They Called Us Shaman

by Corinne Beenfield

  “Impossible.”

  Impossible for me to tell him. It would destroy him to know I had mastered the one thing he wanted most in this world. The one thing he could never have.

  “Yes. I was just wondering. But yes...” I tucked my hair behind my ear and tried to smile in a way that would discredit the whole conversation as nothing but idle musing.

  “Eh, eh!” He pointed at me with a broad, teasing smile. “‘But yes!’” I blushed with a laugh, and the pain of unrealized dreams between us evaporated. “Well, maybe we do know each other better than we know ourselves. Come on.” He stood and offered me a hand to do the same. “I owe you some breakfast. Father should be gone by now, and I would bet Angella has some focaccia left we could have.”

  He lifted me to my feet, and as we walked, his complete familiarity saturated me. I knew how he got each scar, why he wore his hair the way he did. It seemed that even if we had grown up in the same home, as actual siblings, I couldn’t have known him more deeply. Each of his details was a memory, and I imagined that when he looked at me, he saw the same thing. But he didn’t see fur or feathers, didn’t see how I know how to soar in the sun or run silent through the night with an animal’s eyes.

  He doesn’t know me. Not truly. No one ever has. No one likely ever will.

  The ache of the thought stopped me in my tracks, but for a moment, he didn’t notice. Behind him, I watched the gait that I knew as well as my reflection.

  Leo walked on.

  On two feet, all he would ever do.

  ___

  Satisfied, he swivels back to the dazed girl. The blond woman stands, but doesn’t seem to want to leave.

  “You’re excused, Azure.” He jerks his head for her to go. Slowly, she nods and then steps away, her high heels the only sound in the otherwise quiet room.

  All eyes are on the young woman bound to the chair. Gadian lowers himself to her level, crouching before the seat. Her dark eyes only stare at her hands limp in her lap as she is unable to lift her head.

  “We know the myths originated somewhere,” Gadian whispers, ducking his head a bit as if to meet her eyes, but they are too low. “Every culture of every century of the entire world has such myths—they have to come from a seed of truth,” he continues. “We know that ‘It’ is real. Do you understand, Joanna?” His finger hooks under her chin, lifting her gaze until it meets his. “Magic. We know that you have magic.”

  FOUR

  Tuscan Italy, May 1471 A.D.

  It was not a year later that I lay on my belly in a wheat field overrun by poppies, adoring how shaggy and unkempt it hung above me, like uncombed hair before a face. To walk past the field, one might have enjoyed the contrasting green and red, but to actually submerge oneself in it, to watch how the light caught each blade and petal, was to see that it was not two simple colors, but two thousand. That field was only meant to be looked at as an artist would with his palette. Lying there, I thought that if I were to sit quietly in that field a hundred different times, I would never tire of it. That, Mama would say, was why the earth speaks to me.

  “People have the idea of ‘power’ so confused,” I remember her telling me as we gathered herbs once. “They think of it as nearly emotionless. They cannot understand that there is nothing more powerful than to truly be affected by the world around us, as you are. You, darling, feel it all—the sunsets, the wonder of a cooked meal, the fascination of a stranger, the familiarity of a footstep, the hum of the cicadas. None of it is lost on you. The earth reaches out to you and gives you its power because it sees you constantly embracing it, appreciating it as no one else does.” She paused and tucked a strand of lavender behind my ear, then another into her own flowing hair. The gentle fragrance swirled about our heads.

  “This is why, I think, that your abilities cannot be taught to adults. It is part of your childhood that you’ve never lost, but that everyone else has. You see the wonder in everything. Try as they may, they can’t crowd out their busy ‘important’ thoughts just to relish in something so simple as the beauty of a raindrop. I know.” She gave me the saddest look. “I’ve tried.”

  My thoughts were broken by the sudden awareness that I was no longer alone. I knew the sounds of the meadow as well as one might know their family’s voices, so when the grass shook a ways behind me, I knew that it was no motherly caress of the wind. If it was the farmer, he would send me away, so I shed my human form and changed to a sleek dog, the fur a match for my own dark hair color, before peering my head above the wheat.

  There he stood. The Medici boy. That’s all I had ever heard him called, his prestigious father’s name the only one worth noting to the town folks. It’s an outdated term from people who fail to see the world changing around them, people who will someday look at this Medici boy and wonder when he got taller than them. Or so handsome.

  His hair swirled, rich hues of almost black against brown, like darkened tree knots. It loosely curled several inches above his head, the sides short. He stood with shoulders rolled back, swinging a stick in front of him, batting at the tall grass. He had a wide forehead that came down to a slender chin, like a carved arrow. Watching his face, I saw his eyes glazed in memory, and his lips turned up as though recalling something amusing. Thick eyebrows twitched, responding, it seemed, to a conversation that ran through his mind.

  Alessio. That was his name, I finally remembered.

  What reason would a rich young man have for being alone in this field? I let out a friendly bark and trotted toward him, tongue hanging loose in typical canine fashion. I no longer felt silly acting the roles of these animals, no sillier than an actor on a stage would.

  “Hey, pup.” He smiled widely and whistled for me to come close. Obediently, I crossed the short distance to him, and he put out his hand for me to smell before scratching the top of my head. Inside, I smiled. He passed. It was a sort of test I had created for people before I bothered to know them in human form. The same man who has pure blue eyes and loud laughter in the markets may give a swift kick to the house cat, while the woman no one in town will speak to sets out seed for the birds at home.

  “You like games?” He raised a playful eyebrow, to which I wagged in response as if all the wishes of my little doggy heart were coming true. He held up an empty fist and shook it as if some treasure was hidden inside. “Here, catch this!” He threw the invisible object, and I rolled my eyes to myself, then played dumb as he expected. I bounded once, twice after the non-existent and then turned back to him. I was on the brink of deciding that this exchange wasn’t as interesting as I had hoped it would be when he grinned at me. There was no hesitation in his smile. It was completely unfettered and wild, like beautiful things are meant to be.

  “Ah, can’t fool you so easily. Well, then.” The grin took spark in his eyes. “Let’s see if you can catch this.” With that, he swung both arms as though catching the four winds beneath him and lifted off the ground. The shock of it caused me to drop my form briefly and start transforming back into a human, but I caught myself before he noticed the change. For a moment, he was flying backward, face toward the sky, but he spun in the air and then shot across the field. Adrenaline exploded through every inch of me, ignited like oil that met a flame. Bursting across the field, I tried to keep up with him as he cork-screwed forward. I could have changed into a bird to keep up, but somehow the skies seemed to belong to him. We came to a lake, any thought he had of the dog in the meadow long gone, and I changed back into my human form.

  It brought a terrifying joy to watch him, for he loved the flight loudly, recklessly, wildly. His audacity horrified me. It was no wonder I spotted him no matter what form I was in. He didn’t care if he was seen, forcing me to face that my solitude had been my own making.

  Watching Alessio, I realized all that changed.

  I was not so alone in the universe as I had thought.

  He flipped backward, then dove into the water headfirst and face up toward the heavens. Then bursting from the wate
r, he reemerged and took again to the skies. He coiled and pitched, looped and nosedived. As time passed, I could tell when he was calming down. He closed his eyes and soared the length of the lake, its sunlit ripples reflecting against his face.

  Once, he came close enough that I could see the joyful intensity in his expression. It was at that moment I fell in love with Alessio.

  He was everything I had waited for.

  In my chest, the empty yearning—the longing of years for someone who could truly know me—filled to overflowing. It was as though my world had floated in space for centuries alone, cold and dark, when suddenly it came close enough to the sun for it to hold my world, and the very first dawn broke. When the sun’s light first bathed that quiet planet, when it first knew it was cold because it finally understood warmth—that’s what it felt like when Alessio came into my life.

  And perhaps, if he would have me, the abyss would never consume me again.

  It wasn’t fur or feathers, but my simple white dress that I wore as I stepped toward the edge of the lake, one thought moving me forward, one thought over and over.

  I am no longer alone. I am no longer alone.

  ___

  I pull out of the memory and exhale in the dark of the room they have given me. In the night, all the shine they try to blind us with is gone, leaving only the truth.

  It doesn’t matter how bright the bait—we are captured all the same.

  While everyone else here seems content to sip their cocktails and follow strangers to bed, I spend the nighttime hours with eyes closed but unsleeping, searching for the answers I need. I scour their memories, look down the hidden doors of their minds, unlock the truth they would keep from us. Behind one of these curtains there must be the knowledge I require to undo all of this.

  There must be some path home.

  FIVE

  Tuscan Italy, July 1471 A.D.

  The last of the day’s warmth had retreated into the land when I stood on the starlit lakeshore. My thin nightgown was the only thing separating my skin from the prowling nighttime chill, and I rubbed my bare arms for warmth. I could have transformed into a bear with a thick coat and been perfectly warm, but I’d come for a reason. I looked around for Alessio, trying to navigate through the rocks and trees that had become moon-bleached versions of their daytime selves. Just knowing he was close, that soon we would be together again, I felt myself smiling.

  “Well, fancy meeting you here.” Alessio’s charcoal silhouette stepped out from the trees, and though I couldn’t make out his face, I knew his ever-present grin was there. He stretched out his arms, and I didn’t hesitate to run into them. My speed lifted us both off the ground, and he kept us suspended there for a few blissful seconds as he greeted me with a kiss. I flushed and told myself not to shy away, for Alessio kissed as he liked to fly. Recklessly, all-encompassing. On the other hand, I always tried to pay absolute attention to whatever the moment had to offer. I enjoyed life no less than Alessio did—I suppose I am simply more of the slow-and-savor type. In moments like that, my senses were on override, yet I loved that. I loved having him to love and being loved in return. I’d never met anyone like him before. Twining my fingers into his dark waves, I kiss him harder.

  After a moment, Alessio lowered us to the ground, and it was then that in my stomach I felt the magic between us crackling in the air. That was what I dreamed about when we were apart. That was what made us perfect for each other.

  Alessio rested his lips just below my jaw, but I pulled away and playfully danced from him toward the water.

  “No!” He whimpered and reached to grasp around my waist, though I was a step ahead of him. “Do not leave me so unsatisfied!”

  I grabbed the skirt of my nightgown so it wouldn’t hinder my run and gave him a taunting smile. “If you want me, sir, come and get me!” With that, I spun on my heels and took off toward the water. I could hear his breath behind me, feel his fingers brush my ribs, and that was my cue. Reaching the lake’s inky edge, I jumped, changing form as I fell through the air. Before I hit the water, I felt the wind catch under my swan wings, and instead I soared toward heaven.

  Faster than the beat of an eyelid, he was with me, chasing me through the sky. That is what I see in my dreams. Our flight. I soared straight up while he spiraled around me, leaving me blissfully dizzy. I adored his nearness as we flew. More than at any other time I felt such an overwhelming desire to touch him and be touched—likely because it was the only time we barely could, for it would distract me from my swan form. Any sudden interference with my attention to the shape I had taken, and I would plummet to the cold, bruising water below.

  The night sky usually belongs to the owls and bats, but that night, they had to share it with us. We soared through trees and then back over the lake, our reflections and the moon’s cradled in the still waters. If I lived a hundred years, I doubt I could ever describe what it feels like to fly by moonlight other than to say that somehow it soothes me down to my soul, yet emboldens me in the same moment. While so fabulously shrouded, we flew to greater heights than I ever did during the day, and for a second I wondered if this might dampen daytime flight for me. But no, nothing could ruin the joy of flight, day or night. It’s my miracle, this gift from the earth, and nothing could stop me from cherishing every single bit of it.

  With each passing moment, we grew like a forest fire in audacity and energy, and once, above the trees’ outstretched arms, we surged straight up. Then, oh, so briefly at the same moment, we paused in flight. I spread my wings and pressed my swan form against Alessio’s muscular chest, using more concentration to keep my form than I had needed since first learning how to shapeshift. I recall imagining what our silhouette must have looked like, as though Alessio had magnificent wings unfurled against the burnished moon. It lasted three seconds at longest before gravity forced me to arch my back and dive toward the wind-ruffed treetops below.

  As I did so, I had a moonlit view of the lake. Then, like an arrow halting me mid-flight, I saw it. The outline of a human. Someone was watching us from the dark bushes below.

  Panic sliced into the concentration that is necessary to maintain my swan form. The shock severed my mind from my body, and my breathing became all wrong, as if my muscles were trying not to let in another breath. In seconds, my swan form had evaporated, with no hope of finding the calmness that is essential to connect with the earth. Powerless, my arms and legs tumbled through the betraying sky as though caught in a hurricane.

  “Joanna!” Alessio shouted, but he had just looped too far away to get to me in time. His fingers tried grasping at my ankle, shoulder, even hair, anything to stop me from hitting the forest floor, but my clumsy plummeting made it impossible.

  If I had been above the lake, only the cold water would meet me, but no. Thirty feet I fell before I hit the rough stones of the shore, the bones in my leg immediately shattering like a bottle.

  All sound was stolen from my lungs. I couldn’t scream or even gasp aloud. My flesh wept red, a red so deep it was almost purple, and I could clearly see a bone where it should be smooth skin. Grit and mud became enmeshed in my leg that had been flayed open, raw and pink. I thought the shadow onshore would have run away, but instead, it got to me before Alessio could.

  “Jo, I am so sorry. Are you all right? I didn’t know . . .” -” Recognition sliced through me just as Alessio pounced on him with all the fierceness of an alpha wolf.

  “Don’t—” I uttered, but Alessio couldn’t hear my weak attempt. Channeling my pain into my voice, I tried again. “Don’t!” This time, the word came out full force, stopping Alessio immediately. Leaning back against the rocks, I managed to finish my sentence without passing out. “Don’t hurt him!”

  “He could have killed you!” Alessio held him by the shirt, but Leo writhed free and got to my side.

  “Leo.” Through my fog of pain, I tried to focus on his face hovering above me. It was blanched white. “How much did you see?”

  “We
have to get you help.” Leo tried putting an arm around my shoulders, then looked up at Alessio. “Can you lift her other side?” Alessio just stared at him.

  “Who are you?” He demanded, jaw firm.

  There was no time, breath, or words even to explain Leo. “Brother,” I managed. The iron smell of blood thickened the air as it pooled beneath me.

  “You don’t have a brother.” His eyes narrowed, his thick eyebrows drawn in, shading his expression. I just waved a hand as if to say, That’s beside the point.

  “Perhaps her mama can help until the doctor comes.” Leo reached out and yanked Alessio down to help lift me, and this time Alessio relented.

  “There would be too many questions. How are we supposed to explain this? Sleepwalking off a cliff? And we both chanced to be there? No, I know where we can go.” Then he spoke just to me, softly, running a hand through his dark waves. “We will wake my grandfather. He has an ability too—healing. By dawn, no one will be able to tell this ever happened to you.”

  “What do you . . .?” My thoughts were tangled, inseparable threads. “Another?” Why hadn’t he mentioned this grandfather before??

  “Here, lift on three. One . . . two . . . three,” Leo instructed, and together they got me standing. Momentarily, my weight was on the bad leg, and for their sake I tried to muffle the wrenching scream trying to tear me from gut to throat.

  We began to trudge along, and weak beyond words, my head rolled and rested on Alessio’s shoulder. His lips pressed down upon my forehead, and I closed my eyes at his touch. As wonderful as it was to fly together, there are experiences that even flight can’t hold, such as being in Alessio’s arms. For all the agony of the moment, here was some peace found. Alessio’s strength on one side, Leo’s iron grip on the other, and me limping along between them with the knowledge that neither would ever leave.