by Dan Brigman
Kylia nodded while they approached the sanctuary. Ellia gripped her shoulder before stepping off the road to find a nearly forgotten spring. Another reason for this sanctuary’s location or so Ellia always thought. Barely thirty paces from the wall the spring bubbled up from the ground. Brown vegetation, ready to burst back to life soon, lined the spring. The pristine water flowed in a narrow, meandering strip before disappearing. The Vespow River flowed a way off, and the road would not be closer until they reached the next sanctuary tomorrow evening.
The water seeped into the outstretched round metal canteen. Ellia had already filled the third one before filling this last one. A childish and vague shout from the sanctuary brought Ellia to her feet while the canteen slipped from her fingers.
“Damn,” she muttered. Her eyes focused on the sinking canteen. Another shout rang over the open field around her. Ellia stooped, gritting her teeth as she pushed her hand through the near-frozen surface. Another shout, this one more shrill, rushed Ellia’s hand. Just as the canteen slipped deeper than she could reach, Ellia looped the carrying rope around her finger. Pulling it up, she screwed the lid on, and grabbed the other canteens before dashing back to the sanctuary.
Only seconds passed before Ellia skidded to a halt at the midpoint of the low wall. Her palms rested on the wall’s top, and she had readied a foot to vault over. Ellia glanced up and sighed, exhaling her frustration.
Celex and Eosy gripped a thick branch, wider than Ellia’s wrist. Eosy planted her feet in the hard soil and lifted her hands up nearly over her head. Kylia leaned against one of the wall’s trees. She watched with disgust and helplessness, both fighting for control of how she should react.
Eosy yelled, through gritted teeth, “Celex, let it go!” Spittle flew off her unfurled lips with each word.
Celex’s hands released, his face scrunched with disgust. “You spit on me!”
A slap of flesh upon smooth rock ended the scuffle as if it had never even started. All three pairs of eyes shifted their gaze to the wall. The children lowered their eyes when their view fell on Ellia.
“Good,” Ellia said letting her disappointment ooze while she rubbed her hand. “Kylia,” Ellia said, her focus on Eosy and Celex, “I thought I asked you to help them make a fire. Not let them kill one another over a stick.”
“Yes, mother,” Kylia mumbled.
“Eosy put that branch down now.” Ellia waited for her daughter to comply before walking around the wall. When she was within an arm’s distance of the two, Ellia said, “You two have not fought at all until here.” She motioned around them. “Here, of all places. A sanctuary.”
“Yes, mother,” Celex and Eosy replied in unison. Celex followed with a, “Sorry,” just after Eosy’s, “We know better.”
“Discipline isn’t really an option out here,” Ellia mumbled to herself while she scanned the area for ideas. Raising her voice loudly enough for all three, Ellia continued, “I had planned on doing all of the prep work to give you all a break this evening. But seeing that you can’t get along on the road very well, you’ll have to prepare the fire and our dinner.” Before she finished the last word, Celex and Eosy open their mouths to speak. Before they could utter a word, Ellia cut them off with an upraised hand. “And Kylia will lead you to complete your chores.”
Kylia stepped away from the wall and paced to their place near the fire pit. “Fine, mother. These two will listen well.” She tilted her head and asked, “Mother, what will you do?”
“I’ll be keeping an eye out for brigands. They tend to capture loud and unruly children and make them slaves.”
Celex gulped and Eosy’s eyes widened enough that Ellia had to bend her will to not laugh; she had to turn to keep her composure. Even so, she held a hand to her mouth to hide the grin. Ellia strode to the stone wall, and the sounds of the children working in peace brought Ellia satisfaction. “They really are good children, Einar.”
The name had come unbidden, yet she did not push it away as she had done nearly a thousand times since leaving their home.
The moons hung overhead filtering silvery light through the sanctuary’s canopy. Chilled air moved around the sanctuary, barely touching the four resting figures. Ellia sat with her back against the stone wall watching the children sleeping less than a foot from the fire. Their chests rose and fell contentedly with the bed rolls pulled up to their chins. Even so, cloudy wisps floated upward with each breath. Ellia wrapped her brown woolen bedroll around her body and pulled the hood around her head. All three of the children’s heads lay upon smooth stones, left near the wall by the last visitors. The fire will burn for an hour or more. I’ll just sleep a bit. Ellia had spent the better part of the last half hour debating on whether to stay awake to guard the children. Finally, the thought of the upcoming storm lulled her into a comfortable meditation. The sanctuary’s solace soon enveloped her in sleep.
Bright flashes flickered through Ellia’s eyelids, rousing her. The gentle tap, tap, tap, tap of a woodpecker furthered her awakening. She kept still, listening for voices or movement. She pushed panicked thoughts away, keeping her focus outward. After counting twenty breaths Ellia opened her eyes to slits just as another flicker flared. Ellia’s gaze shifted to the flash’s origin—Kylia.
Kylia sat on the fire’s opposite side facing Ellia, her green eyes wide and blazing at the fire’s lapping flames. She held her right hand poised palm forward, seemingly to warm it. Then she lowered all fingers but her index. At the tip, white light ignited and emblazoned her face, highlighting wrinkles already forming on her young visage. Wrinkles from what? Ellia thought through the shock. Kylia let her hand fall, the whiteness following. A line, the width of her finger, pulsed brighter with each passing heartbeat. The smell of rain caressed Ellia’s nose while the fire diminished almost imperceptibly.
“Stop!” The word rushed from Ellia’s mouth with regret flushing her face.
Kylia gasped, the whiteness fading to leave only a slight afterimage. Kylia’s eyes met Ellia’s, and neither of them could look away. Surprise mirrored itself over the fire. A breath later, Ellia stood, her eyes still on Kylia. She stamped her legs, loosening the cramps laden by the cold and stillness of sleep. She wrapped the bedroll around her shoulders and pulled back the hood to let her hair flow freely. Each of the ten paces to the fireside carried with them an eternity. Thoughts of her admiration for what the girl could do, conjoined with the danger inherent in her obvious ability, threatened to unhinge Ellia’s mind, until she glanced down at Eosy and Celex, their beings restoring some of her eroding sanity.
Eosy and Celex lay sleeping, their eyes still closed innocently. Their forms seemed foreign through the fog of uncertainty. Kylia’s gaze met Ellia’s as she sat facing the girl. No, not a girl anymore. Originators help me. Help us. The woodpecker’s tapping brought Ellia’s gaze upward past Kylia. Sol touched the horizon. I’ve slept most of the night. Ellia inhaled and noticed Kylia bracing, with her head moved back and shoulders scrunching.
Ellia settled on the compacted bare soil, thankful it had warmed above freezing. With one hand she held the roll together at her chest and motioned the other toward Kylia, hoping the movement would calm her daughter.
“Kylia, I’m sorry. You surprised me is all.” Ellia paused. Kylia’s eyes narrowed with uncertainty. “But really, I should have known better.” Kylia’s head tilted, curiosity flecking her eyes and mouth.
“You’ve always been close to your father. More than he probably realizes.” Need to take another route. “Listen, please. Alteration has always been problematic in our family. With all that is going on, I never expected you,” she said, waving toward the still-sleeping children, “or them to take on your father’s profession.”
“Why would you think I’d do that?” Kylia whispered.
“What do you intend to do then?” Ellia’s resumption to confused surprise put an edge to her tone. “Become an Itinerant? Selling your services to whomever can pay the most?”
“
I plan on redeeming Alteration. Back to where it was years ago. Before dad went to university to learn. Before his time in the war. I don’t want any other Alterator to suffer through the public’s ignorance, mother.”
Ellia nodded. “Respectable. I remember your father saying nearly the same thing twenty years ago, before the war.”
Anger tinged each word. “I may not be an adult yet, but I’ll not be treated like a child.”
“Well, perhaps, you shouldn’t act like one, Ky,” Ellia replied drily.
Kylia’s face clouded, anger stirring. Ellia saw her hands gripping her knees white-knuckled and said, “A child wouldn’t have kept something so serious, so pivotal, from her mother who has cared for her since birth.”
Kylia’s eyes widened as her hands relaxed. Her head fell, eyes staring vacantly into the fire. Her mumbled reply prompted Ellia to ask her to repeat herself. She sighed before complying. “You’re right mother. But father said to keep this secret until he was ready to tell you.”
“Of course, he’s been teaching you.” Ellia repeated the words trying to convince herself of what was going on.
“Why shouldn’t I learn our family’s trade?”
Ellia felt her mouth open, surprise unhidden from her face. Kylia frowned as the seconds passed, waiting for an answer. Anger bubbled up into rage with each possible reply to Kylia’s question.
“That trade is why we are going to your grandfather’s home.” Ellia kept her voice low to avoid waking the others, but each word was clipped from the attempt.
Kylia’s green eyes met Ellia’s, their exchanged gazes flashing in the firelight, and neither spoke for several long moments until the cadence of frog chirps interrupted their stares. Even from the nearby spring, the frogs’ noise drowned out their thoughts. Kylia glanced down and said, “Well, mother, I can’t just unlearn it. Father started over a month ago. Teaching me, I mean.” Kylia paused, twirling an edge of her bedroll with the same finger she had used to scribe.
“I know that, daughter. I do know.” Ellia sighed, letting out a long narrow wisp of breath. “I’m sure your dad thought he knew best, and maybe he did.” This time her gaze slipped to the fire while Kylia stared, wide-eyed, at her mother. “All I know is that Alteration has only given us nothing but heartache since your father accepted his position in Durik’s Pass. Before you were born, even.” Ellia looked up and continued, “It is beautiful, though.” She sighed again as Kylia grinned. Ellia could not match the grin before she resumed, “You need to promise me that you’ll only practice when we are nowhere near a village or town. Nor even a shack.”
Ellia felt her mind fracture at Kylia’s ever-widening grin. The young woman, Ellia could never think of her as a girl again, appeared to be utterly transfixed and confused by Ellia’s decision. Kylia rushed to Ellia’s side and nearly threw herself upon her. Ellia embraced her child for a long moment until she felt compelled to pull away, tears pooling in her eyes. Kylia glimpsed the glistening eyes and said, “Mother, don’t worry. Dad ensured that I’d only learn harmless runes. Only two, and two which do nothing but create the light you saw.”
“Daughter, I know which ones are harmless,” Ellia replied, wiping her thumb across both eyes. She stood, Kylia’s unbelieving eyes following her, and said, “Get some rest. We’ll be leaving an hour after Sol’s rise. By my accounting, you’ve got about an hour before they’re awake, if you’re lucky.”
Kylia grinned again, wrinkles wiped away, her youth plain again. Enough so that Ellia forced herself to look away, toward the glimmers of light in the east. “Rest,” Ellia said over her shoulder, “we’ve got a long walk ahead of us today; but we might have some respite this night.”
Behind her, Ellia made out her daughter’s movement to lie upon the ground. Respite is not going to come again, not now. Will it ever? Ellia let the question roll through her mind until she felt Celex’s hand on hers. Sol had still not risen above the horizon, and Ellia glanced down before reaching to lift him up for an embrace. Within seconds of kissing her on the cheek, he snored at her shoulder. After her arms became dead weights from holding him, Ellia realized the predicament she had put the children into.
She frowned. What? Not a predicament. Where did that thought come from? I’m protecting these children. The stirrings from Eosy’s bedroll pushed away the unwanted thoughts—the day would begin soon. I must be strong. I must be.
The road wore the children down with each passing mile. Ellia lost count of the times her temper slipped, especially after the children’s nerves had frayed during the first few hours of walking. Kylia withdrew into stoic silence following Ellia’s first slip of anger, her face sullen and red-cheeked from the crisp breezes blowing west over the river. By the time they stopped next to one of the squat stone mile markers, Ellia had been leading a trio of quiet children with faces alternating between fear, boredom, and tiredness.
Celex’s blue eyes picked up the sight of each marker before skipping ahead to climb atop the marker. He had stopped bragging about how tall he was compared to the girls when Eosy had pushed him unceremoniously off the top. Ellia gasped at thought of a broken bone or two, but she sighed as Celex picked himself up and brushed dust off. His small tongue poked out at Eosy before she lunged at him. He ducked underneath her outstretched arms and sprinted ahead. That burst of energy helped to pass only a few moments and then their resumption to the road’s unyielding drain.
Ellia motioned for the children to sit on the brown grasses cropping up around the next stone marker. She passed around pieces of wrapped cheese from her pack followed by bits of goose jerky. They ate mechanically and offered only a polite “thank you” to their mother’s offerings. Ellia glanced upward as she repacked the remnants of the meal; gray clouds hung low hiding Sol. She swallowed a mouthful of water from a canteen, letting the chill linger to match her mood. The children stared off down the road, standing one by one and waiting for Ellia. She capped the canteen, repacked it, and joined them.
“How far, Mother?” Celex asked after grabbing Ellia’s hand. The others gave her a sidelong look, curiosity pushing back the tiredness in their eyes.
“When we pass five more of those markers, we’ll be able to stop for the night. An old friend should be there, waiting, as he always is.”
“Waiting for what?” Eosy offered.
“Waiting for weary travelers. He should have horses. I just hope he lets us borrow one or two.”
“This time we can’t push them so hard, Mother,” Kylia muttered, her green eyes scanning ahead.
“I know,” Ellia replied, then sighed. “We’ll be much more careful; but we are trying to outrun a blizzard. Some risks have to be taken at times.”
Kylia smiled prompting Eosy to nod. Celex looked at all three of their faces now that they walked abreast. “Well, I hope your friend has horses for us, even if it means we have to be risky.”
Ellia tilted her head at Celex. His mouth had blossomed into a smile, and from the corner of her eye Ellia noted a slight upturn of Kylia’s lips. Eosy looked to each one of their faces, confusion plain. Celex noticed Eosy and whispered, “What’s risky mean, Eosy?”
Ellia and Kylia’s laughter burst out, startling Eosy and Celex, but only long enough for them all to settle into a comfortable pace.
“It means to take a chance,” Eosy answered finally. Celex frowned, concern scrunching his features until Ellia gripped his shoulder. He glanced up to see her faint smile before skipping ahead.
Only once did Celex turn back and ask, “How much further?” Kylia replied by pointing out the small shack and stable to their mother.
“I had hoped children would grace my home again one day. Welcome.”
The old man, as Ellia always had known him even when she had been a child, glanced at her, his bright blue eyes shimmered. A long-stemmed pipe clicked between his teeth with each word, yet he enunciated the words plainly. “And your children, Ellia, they are beautiful and getting so big.” Asgrim patted Celex on the top of his hea
d, careful to not further muss up the boy’s filthy hair.
We’ll need baths soon, Ellia thought. Even my thoughts are tired. They stood just inside the now-closed door of Asgrim’s shack. The pipe smoke mingled with the chimney’s smoke, which had been pushed outward into the small room.
“This must be little Kylia,” Asgrim continued, his aged voice resounding with delight, enough to match her smile. “Not so little anymore. You’ve not been by in a while. Years, if my memory holds.” He turned to Ellia and said under his breath, “Strange time for a trip, Ellia.”
“Hello, Grandpa Asgrim,” Kylia replied. “Mother said we couldn’t stop the last time I was with her. We were too busy, weren’t we?” Kylia looked up at Ellia. Eosy and Celex glanced at one another mouthing “grandpa,” then looking upward at Ellia, their faces bearing an expectant frown.
“That’s right Asgrim, and it’s a long story as to why we are traveling now.” She placed a hand on Celex and Eosy’s shoulders. “Can we stay the night? We’ve had a long walk since losing our horses.”
Asgrim frowned at Ellia, his blue eyes catching what little light came from the meager yet warming fireplace. “Losing your horses. You?”
“Grandpa,” Kylia offered, luring the old man’s eyes to her. “We pushed too hard, trying to beat the coming storm. We’re heading to Tolsont to stay with Grandpa Ryukin.”
The frown faded, replaced with a grin upon Asgrim’s face, his white teeth flashing. “Of course, you all can stay the night. I’d love to talk with your mother alone this evening before you all head out to Jasten in the morning. Maybe I’ll even offer you a song.” The last came out more of a question, vague, yet offering promises.
Asgrim motioned them further into the shack, his wrinkled hands emptying chairs of their contents—leather bound books, clay and metal pots, a black kitten, and a wooden writing desk. “Don’t have too many visitors who want to stay the night,” he mumbled while placing the chairs around the small table. Besides random items piled on chairs, the room’s tidiness lured them in further. Herbs hung from the rafters, just a foot above Asgrim’s head, and two narrow dark-stained cabinets stood near the fireplace’s wall. Two short doors, low enough for even Ellia to need to duck under, stood at the front and back of the shack. Small, six-paned windows dotted empty wall space. The tiled floor had no remnants of dust or dirt—Asgrim’s boots stood tucked by the side of the back door.