Ventus | Page 5

in his eyes startled
him. He caught a confused glimpse of sunlit grass and white clouds,
where straw and wooden slats should be.
"Jordan?" His elbow hurt. Somehow, he was on the floor.
"Hey..." She knelt beside him, looking concerned. "Are you okay? You
fell over."
"I did? It was that flash of light. I saw--" Now he wasn't sure what he'd
seen.
Emmy gently felt his skull for bruises. "Nothing hurts here, does it?."
"I didn't hit myself, really." He brushed himself off and stood up.
"You looked really weird there for a second."

"I don't know. It's not anything." He felt scared suddenly, so to cover it,
he said, "No, I was just joking. Come on, let's check on Willam. Then
we'd better get back to work."
"Okay," she said uncertainly.
Willam and Ryman were still with the surgeon, and nobody knew what
to do about the stone mother, so Jordan told the rest of the men to take
an early lunch. He went to the kitchens and found a stool near Emmy.
They wiled away some time near the warmness of the hearth.
Jordan had just decided to round up his men and get back to work,
when he suddenly felt a horse under him, and saw grasslands sweeping
by. A thunderous sound, as of many mounted men, filled his ears. This
time, he was lost for what seemed a long time.
His hand gripped the reins tightly, only it was not his hand, but the
sunburned hand of a mature man.
In an eye-blink the vision was gone, and he stood again in the kitchen.
He hadn't fallen, and no one was looking at him. Jordan's heart began to
pound as if he'd run a kilometer.
He waved at Emmy urgently. She was talking to one of the bakers, and
ignored him until he started to walk over. Then she quickly intercepted
him and whispered, "What?" in that particular tone of voice she used
lately when her interrupted her talking to young men.
"It happened again."
"What happened?"
"Like in the stables. And outside. I saw something." Her skeptical look
told him to be careful what he said. "I--I do think I'm sick," he said.
Her look softened. "You look awful, actually. What's wrong?"
"I keep seeing things. And hearing things."

"Voices? Like uncle Wilson?"
"No. Horses. Like in the dream I had last night."
"Dream? What are you talking about?
"The dream I had last night. I'm still having it."
"Tell me."
"Horses, and grasslands. There was a battle, and the Winds came. All
last night, it was just like I was there. And it keeps happening today,
too. I'm still seeing it."
Emmy shook her head. "You are sick. Come on, we'll go see the
surgeon."
"No, I don't want to."
"Don't be a baby."
"Okay, okay. But I can go on my own. You don't have to come with
me."
"All right," she said reluctantly. He felt her concerned gaze on him as
he left.
The surgeon was busy with Willam's broken leg. Jordan stood around
for a few minutes outside his door, but the sound of screaming coming
from inside made him feel worse and worse, until finally he had to
leave. He sat in the courtyard, unsure whether to go back to work or go
home. Something was wrong, and he had no idea what to do about it.
He couldn't stay idle, though. If he went home, his father would treat
him with contempt at dinner; Jordan always felt terribly guilty when he
was sick, as if he was doing something bad.
He thought of the walk home, and that made him think of the forest.
There was someone there who could help him--and maybe solve the

problem of the stone mother too. It was a long walk, and he didn't like
to be in the forest alone, but just now he didn't know what else to do.
He stood up and left the manor, taking the path that led to the church,
and the house of the priests.
* * *
The church lay several kilometers within the forest. Jordan relaxed as
he walked, frightening as the forest was. Father Allegri would help
him.
The path opened onto the church lands abruptly: Jordan came around a
sharp bend where towering silver maple and oak trees closed in
overhead, and there was the clearing, broad and level, skirted at its
edges with low stone buildings where the ministers lived. In front of
the church itself, a broad flagstone courtyard, unwalled, was kept bare
and clean.
The priests' house stood off to one side, under overhanging oaks. It was
a stout stone building, two stories high, with its own stable. Jordan had
been inside many times, since his father helped in its upkeep.
With