Silver Mantle

by Gail Merritt

  ‘Yes fire!’ I spoke to it, not knowing if it could understand. ‘I want to see you better.’ The light was too dim to see much except a raw gash on its flank, still bleeding. ‘Stay here,’ I told my friends as I reached again inside my baggage. I had salve and ointments, preparations to stop bleeding and heal wounds but how as I supposed to administer them. The creature would have trampled me into the ground before I could touch it. I began to descend, talking all the while about my intentions, not knowing if it understood anything I said or if it could even hear me. It bellowed once more and stamped on the path. It was wise enough not to attempt to climb, the path was too narrow for its bulk.

  ‘More trouble!’ yelped the fox behind me. Before I could scold him and insist he return to the trembling Gilbert, I caught the gleam of eyes in my torch light, several pairs of eyes on the edge of the clearing and more bounding through the trees to join them. Wolves.

  They snarled at the great beast as they surrounded it and I wondered if the wound had been caused by them. They must be hungry indeed to attack such a monster.

  ‘Go back where you came from,’ one wolf’s message was delivered with fearsome growling but in my head his words were clear.

  ‘I am Megwin, pupil to Green Mantle, and I seek only safe passage through the forest. The auroch is wounded.’

  Several of the wolves had heard my words and looked up while the others continued to keep the giant bull in their sights.

  ‘Your kind did this. How can we trust you?’

  ‘I follow Green Mantle. You must have heard of him. He does not kill or harm any living creature and neither do I. I wish only to help.’

  ‘The Great One cannot hear you. It will not let you pass alive. It’s anger cannot be calmed for it bleeds in its skin and its heart. Its cub is dying.’

  ‘Speak to it for me. Tell it I will try to help.’ There was no reply but the wolves ceased their snarling and formed a tight ring on the edge of the clearing. The auroch, breathing heavily, lifted its head towards me. ‘I only wish to help you,’ I pleaded.

  ‘It is too angry and afraid,’ the wolf’s voice explained. ‘If you are to save the cub, you must trust us, as you ask us to trust you. Do you agree?’ The fox was repeating ‘no,no,no’ behind me and Gilbert appeared to be praying rapidly to the Silver Tree Beneath the World.

  ‘I agree.’

  ‘You alone. Tell those who shiver in the darkness to have no fear. We will not harm them. They can wait here when the Great One has left.’ A large grey wolf crept closer to the auroch and began to climb the track. I thought Gilbert was preparing to die, so I went down to meet the wolf.

  ‘You are but a human child. How can you be the Green One’s friend?’

  ‘His pupil. I learn from him.’

  ‘You have his skills?’

  ‘Yes!’ I tried to sound confident and hoped this was not really a lie.

  ‘You will ride upon my back. You must hold fast for when we go, I cannot stop and the Great One will be following. If you fall, he will kill you. I will take you to his cub and we will protect you but if you fail, you will die.’

  With the fox and Gilbert both protesting loudly behind me. I took what medicines I could, as well as my fire box and climbed on the wolf’s back. He was a large, strong male who could take my weight but I hoped the ride would not be a long one, for both our sakes. As soon as we passed beneath the auroch it bellowed, but fearful of so many wolves, it waited long enough for us to speed through the clearing and into the darkness of the forest. As I clung to the wolf’s thick fur, his scent filling my nostrils, I could feel the other wolves running with us and further back, the lumbering fury of the auroch, demolishing samplings as he thundered after us. I kept my face low, close to the wolf, trying to avoid the twigs and branches that scraped across my face and snagged my hair but by the time we reached the sick calf, the auroch was not the only one bleeding. My forehead dripped steadily into my eyes.

  The calf was the size of a normal cow and lay on its side, panting. It was clear to see what the injury was, an arrow had pierced its shoulder and congealing blood spread out across the rough grass. Fortunately, the attack had happened in a clearing where the beasts had been feeding and strong moonlight flooded the area with enough light. On my ride, I had decided that this occasion might well demand Mantle magic to save life, my own included, but I set to work, removing the spear, stitching the wound and cleaning it as best I could. The task took all my attention and I was only vaguely aware that we were now surrounded by a ring snarling wolves, outside which the auroch and his mate were patrolling.

  The young calf was very weak. I stroked its its hornless head and felt helpless. I had never tried to heal such a huge creature, my practice in such arts had been limited to chickens and the occasional cat that haunted the Talarin. I doubted that I could succeed, so as the moon slid above the branches towards dawn, I too offered a prayer to the Tree Beneath the World. I must have fallen asleep soon after and slept until the sky to east was paling.

  I woke with a jolt, when the calf’s skin shuddered as if to shed an annoying fly. Its breathing was deeper, its eyes opening slowly, cautious, our eyes meeting. We could not communicate and I saw the fear in his eyes, another human and a ring of wolves surrounding us. I might have jumped to my feet if I had not noticed that many of the wolves slept too and beyond their cordon, the great auroch sat, its head nodding slowly. The calf’s eyes had seen it too, and heard the gentle lowing of an anxious mother, now inside the circle, having stepped carefully between the sleepers. She came towards us and at last I found my feet and stepped away.

  The air was still, a world holding its breath before sunrise as this mother licked her child gently, urging it to stand and stand it did, a little unsteadily at first but well again. The auroch and the wolves were waking too, all silent, looking about themselves, blinking and yawning.

  I do not know where it came from, nor who put it there or how it stirred and fell, but drifting down from the trees in this silence came a single, delicate, swaying leave. It zigzagged down before our eyes and settled at my feet. A leaf of such etherial beauty, thin as silk, green veined and almost silver, it was from no tree I had ever seen. The wolves all sat, their eyes fixed on the ground where it rocked gently. The auroch now took his chance to pass through the wolves and had I not been transfixed by the tiny leaf, I might have feared my death was coming but the great beast only joined his family licking and lowing to each other. They ignored me and the wolf circle, leaving the clearing in search of food. Only when he reached the edge of the forest did the auroch look back, lower his head and snort. I took it as his thanks, although it might not have been.

  I sat on the ground, wanting to touch the leaf but afraid it might crumble at my touch. The wolves crept nearer, the large grey who had carried me the night before sat beside me.

  ‘We believe you have the Green One’s power,’ he said.

  ‘Not only that, but we have all witnessed the message from the One Below. You are welcome in our pack.’ A female, the colour of buttermilk, sat closer to me that the grey. ‘I am Deema, First Among Sisters, my mate, Ro, is First and he has taken brothers to follow the Great One to keep you safe. Sisters have gone to bring the scavenger and your horse captive to us. You have already met my son, Yared.’

  The fox and Gilbert arrived shortly afterwards and the whole wolf pack shared their food with us, well, the fox, at least. Gilbert cropped grass while I still had bread from the Manor kitchens of Gaheil. I watched the ritual of feeding that the wolves observed. Ro ate first, followed by Yared, his son, then Deema before all the rest of the pack. One wolf hung back with the fox, who seemed to know the etiquette of the occasion. Yared explained that this was his youngest brother, Lop, who held the lowest rank in the pack, a rank now bestowed on my scavenger.

  ‘You must take the leaf,’ Yared said as we were preparing to leave. He had agreed to shepherd us through the forest.

  ‘It is so delicate and I’m not sure I can say
it belongs to me.’

  ‘Of course it does,’ Gilbert put in, now revived to his usual self after a feed of rich grass. ‘You must have touched the soul of The Tree with your prayer.’ Then he looked confused. ‘I know you don’t really believe in The Tree, but you did pray didn’t you. I’d thought the gift of a silver leaf was just a legend but it seems some people get them. I did hear tell…’

  ‘Tell her some other time,’ the fox interrupted, anxious to be gone. He had gathered the leaf in his teeth and dropped it rather unceremoniously at my feet. It made a small metallic sound as it hit the buckle of my shoe. It felt like metal in my hand, perhaps silver but hard, far too heavy to have floated lazily down to me in the still dawn. I wrapped it in my kerchief and slipped it into the pouch at my waist. I would ponder about the leaf later. Now we were heading south, into the borders of Dereculd and wondering what new challenges awaited us there.

  13.

  The Village With No Name

  It hurt inside every time I thought of Llewid. I had trusted and liked him, and he had betrayed me. Gilbert thought that we should visit the King but the fox hastily explained to him why that was not possible. I thought about Llewid as we passed through his kingdom and I dreamed too. Sometimes the dreams were about the birthday celebrations and the happy times we shared but at other times , the dreams were frightening. I saw us together in the palace of Dereculd, planning the downfall of Ardin and his father. After such dreams I woke in an icy sweat and shook violently.

  ‘Let’s keep going south,’ the fox suggested. ‘At least it stays warmer and the days are longer there.’

  So we left Dereculd without either adventure or mishap and reached the wastelands of Mosagin. It is a poor place, with very little vegetation and the people live in poverty, scratching to find sufficient food and water, even in the best of times. There are no cities, just a few ugly villages, where a cluster miserable huts surrounding a waterhole. Since our experiences in Stovin, I travelled in my official robes. It was one of the few concessions granted to novices during their quests as it usually ensured them a respectful welcome. In my foolishness and perhaps pride, I had imagined that I did not need its protection.

  We came to one of those villages in the afternoon. There was no name and no one to ask where we were, so we stopped, intending to fill our water flasks before moving on. Although the people live mean existences, they are always generous with what they have and that includes water. We were never stopped from taking precious water from their wells. We found that the well at this village was almost dry, so we took only a tiny amount. That was when we heard the wailing. The dreadful sound came from one the finer homes. On a wide, covered porch at the front, a group of black-veiled women were sitting, swaying wildly and making such a din that Gilbert refused to go any nearer. Their high-pitched voices rose and fell and occasionally one would stand and scream. I tried to attract their attention, but they seemed to be in a trance, and kept up their keening even when I stepped over them to reach the open doorway.

  The place smelt of death. An acrid stench that filled the throat was mixed with the sticky-sweet odour of herbs and spices, and I might have retched on the threshold if I had not seen the pitiful sight in the tiny room beyond. With darkened windows, the room was lit only by a solitary candle beside a narrow bed. A child of perhaps six or seven lay there. She was so white and beautiful that she did not appear to be real. Her small hands rested at her sides and her long, black hair spread across the pillow. I felt the tears stinging the back of my eyes and I turned away, accidentally gathering the thoughts of those who sat in the small room with her. The only man in the room was the girl’s uncle. He sat in deep shadow at the back of the room and I felt my anger rising as I realised that he was growing impatient for her death. There was no sense of loss in this man. He cared little for the girl. She could never bring wealth to the family as a boy could. She had always been sickly and was prone to daydreams too. He eyed me suspiciously but recognised the robe of the Mantles and bowed to show that I was welcome. I smiled gently at the mother and took the child’s cold hand.

  Using the skills taught by Blue Mantle, I learnt that she was a victim of the drought. The water in the village was from the very bottom of the well and tainted. Her frail little body was undernourished and could not fight. She would be dead in a few hours. As I tried to search for all her life force and to reach her mind to offer peace, I became aware that other minds were troubled. The village had several children suffering as this one suffered. Many of the adults were also affected.

  I returned to the sunlight, explaining to the fox and Gilbert what I had discovered.

  ‘You can’t interfere,’ Gilbert cautioned. ‘You know the law of the Souran prohibits novices from using their powers without special dispensation. No one must detect the powers that you have.

  ‘Except in special circumstances,’ I argued.

  ‘But this is interfering.’ The fox concurred with the horse.

  ‘I need to think.’ I was impatient. They were right. I knew that, but the death of so many children was more than I wanted on my conscience. If I ran from this village without helping helping, then I might become a Mantle, but I would hate myself for the rest of my life. I walked away from the buildings to a grove of olive trees. The afternoon sun was low in the sky, turning all the twisted trunks pink. It was a tranquil place where I could reconsider the decision I had already made. I tried to weigh my future against the futures of these innocent children and the obvious conclusion gave me no satisfaction.

  ‘It is never an easy path!’ In the stillness a familiar voice haunted me.

  ‘Silver Mantle, are you here?’

  ‘No. But when the mind of one of us is tormented, as your is, then the Souran feel your misery.’

  ‘Then you agree that this is a special case, involving the lives of innocents, and requiring the use of my powers?’

  'I did not say that.’ There was silence, only crickets and the hiss of a breeze through the olive leaves.

  ‘I can’t let them die!’

  The sun had set, the sky brooding in angry streaks after its departing, the thin clouds melting as the darkness crept in and the first stars appeared before I was certain that Silver Mantle would speak no more. I trudged back to the house where the mourners were reaching a crescendo of misery. Gilbert and the fox had found themselves food and I apologised for neglecting them, before I returned to the olive grove, sick at heart. The night was clear and cool, with a sky full of painfully bright stars. Even at this distance I could hear the mourning women. I wanted to cry but my eyes, like everything else in this arid place, were dry. I beat my fist against an olive trunk and heard shrivelled fruits drop in the dark. I longed for the fox to join me, for someone to ease the bitter ache of desperation. I called out in vain to Silver Mantle, Black Mantle, to the stars, to anyone in the whole universe who cared for the weak and the dying. The night waited with only the gentle whisper of the olives and the blinking of starlight to comfort me.

  I must have slept for I woke with a jolt. It was colder now and I shivered. For one terrible moment I thought that the mourners had ceased and that the poor child had died while I slept but the wailing continued. I returned to the village, where the uncle was outside the house making final arrangements for the child’s burial. The bile rose in my throat. She was to be buried in the pit with the dead animals because she was only a girl child and of a young age. He insisted that everything must be done to keep the cost low as his sister was a widow and he would have to meet all the expenses. The man’s thoughts and words drew such anger from me that I retreated back to the tranquillity of the olives.

  Perhaps it was the image of all the dying children being consigned to that end, or perhaps the callous way the man dismissed the death of his niece, but something ignited all the fury inside me demanded action. In the snapping of dry twig in my fingers, I knew what I must do, and neither the Souran nor the whole college of the Mantles could prevent me. The consequences wer
e unimportant. I only hoped that I had learnt Blue Mantle’s lessons well.

  It begins with the spreading of arms and the stretching of fingers until the body feels the elements. Every storm or hurricane or winter blizzard begins with the gathering of moisture. So too, begins the Mantle art of gathering clouds. In the stillness of the grove, I summoned them from far in the north. I drew them to me, building and forming great anvil-shaped plateaus, creating wild electric serpents in their centre. I felt their coming in my hair and on my face. The air about me crackled with their energy and as they came, they caused the winds, rushing before them, turning and twisting the olive branches so their leaves out-wailed the mourners.