Conduits

Chapter Seven

CHAPTER SEVEN

Clara was on the road alone. The road golems were silent and unmoving in their oblivious slumber. No wind stirred the subtlest of sounds… the tumbling of leaves, the sway and crack of tree branches.

The world could be in no other state that would force Clara into a position of loneliness.

With no distractions Clara had only her thoughts to occupy her. Dark thoughts, some of her own creation.

She could not hold back the image of Merlyn on the ground, bloodied, silvery mustaches drenched in crimson. She had not even glimpsed Merlyn after the battle, yet her mind kept returning to this image. Then there was Gabby's dead body. That too Clara had never seen, yet her imagination desperately put the pieces into a gory portrait for her.

While combing fingers through her dark curls an idle thought came to mind. Clara grabbed for the lifeline. How far from Rivend am I?

She pulled out the portable device from her pocket and turned it on; the Nites she had this morning to Wake the device had not yet left. With a couple finger flicks across the screen Clara pulled up the machine's maps application. It had other functions but this was one of Clara's favorites and one most useful to her. Most of the applications were simply not practical anymore—the thing probably made coffee a long time ago. The one downside to the map application was that the maps in the memory were outdated, only as current as Black Out Thursday. Since that world changing day new communities had sprung up, older ones had been renamed, and monstrous weather events had destroyed bridges and other landmarks. Albeit most of the roads were correct; the new roads were—after all—worn beside the decaying asphalt tracks. Nevertheless Clara had to make guesses about where towns and cities lay. After years of practice she was good at that. One day she would figure out a way to rewrite a device's base programming using the Field. She was close. And on that day she would rewrite the maps.

Until then she was half a mile from Rivend.

Again she pocketed the device. And again the loneliness returned with the faces of the people she'd let down.

I've been alone ever since—

Clara sensed Tink before she saw the Nite. The hairs on the back of her neck rose and her sixth sense—her Field sense—received a ping.

A spark as large as Clara's pinky finger appeared quicker than the teenager conduit could bring to bear a small smile, popping in to existence. The Nite shot toward Clara and fluttered around her head. She, Tink the Nite, had no fixed form for Clara to describe, though when moving the Nite did resemble a rocketing ball of fuzzy light. When she stood still—which was rare, the little spark of energy possessed a lot of... well... energy—the Nite resembled the silhouette of young woman with a mane of lush long hair that trailed away into a whip-snap tail, a gossamer body that was occasionally garbed in a sheer dress of pure light, and dazzling stars for eyes.

Tink always appeared to Clara when the latter was feeling the lowest, never when other humans were present. Clara didn't know what Tink was, exactly. Generally speaking, Nites don't have a personality or consciousness aside from what a conduit wills for it. Every Nite except Tink. She was feisty, playful, and sometimes rude when her mood soured. Above all a friend, Tink was as ever present as the Field around the world, ever since a few days after Clara gave up hope of her father coming home again.

Like other Nites, Tink could not affect the world around her except machines. Other people could see Tink if the Nite desired, just like they could see the Nites Clara created (though not the Field). Despite this, Clara kept her friend a secret. Besides, she didn't know if anyone would think her crazy for talking to a Nite when Nites were not supposed to be sentient. Conduits might also try to take Tink away—as far as Clara knew Tink was unique, why wouldn't another conduit want her? Clara couldn't bare such a betrayal. Think her crazy but leave Tink.