Life Giver

by Lisa Lowell

  "I've put a treatment in the well, but it will take another week before the water will be fit to drink again. Thank you for coming." Then she bent to pick up her sizable pack, but Yeolani stopped her and hefted it instead. It was heavier than his own, and she smiled her thanks.

  "Come with me," she ordered since he was offering to take both packs. "I'll buy you supper at the inn. That's where I'm staying, and we need to talk."

  Obediently, Yeolani followed the lady toward Simten's only inn, swallowing his excitement. He'd never been inside the public-house, always considering it his father's hideout where he grew drunk and learned where the best fishing could be found. However, somewhere within, Yeolani also knew this was where travelers stayed and where the townsfolk could always come for news, like cholera. The inn had always been the denizen of adults, but at this point, carrying his father's ale and giving away his inheritance, Yeolani realized that yes, now he could consider himself an adult.

  He had expected the inn to be crowded with men who had been away fishing and now came to drown their sorrows after spending the day burning bodies. However, the common room echoed and stood empty but for the innkeeper. Yeolani could hear the crackling fire and the clink of rearranging glasses behind the enormous counter, but no one had come for news. The entire town knew about the plague and didn't want to share their grief yet. Honiea ordered two suppers from the morose barkeeper and then guided Yeolani to a dark corner far away from the fire. On a warm spring evening, they didn't need the heat, and apparently, their conversation required privacy. Yeolani's innate curiosity nearly choked him as he set the packs down and watched how Honiea deliberately sat with her face toward the door, her back to the corner. What had a healer, a magical healer, to fear from being overheard?

  She didn't say anything until the cook brought them each a plate of fish baked in cream and spring vegetables. Yeolani's stomach growled at him, and he began wolfing down this fine food like a dog, barely tasting it. He also sampled his first ale and decided he didn't like it, though it was better than going thirsty with no water. Honiea watched him eat and was covering a private smile before he noticed, and he realized his manners probably spoke volumes. Self-consciously, he stopped with his fork halfway to his mouth and put it down.

  "No," she insisted. "You need to eat. If you were a sailor, I don't doubt you need nourishment. You're skin and bones and a growing boy. Let me guess – sea-sick?"

  Yeolani nodded wearily. "Sick as a cur dog every single day," he mumbled, swallowed, and then repeated it. "I could never hold a thing down when I was aboard. How did you know?"

  "Because you're a magician. I can't go to sea either and for the same reason. Magical people cannot cross the water without…well, let's just say it's not the best state of being, and I have yet to find a cure. Believe me, I've tried."

  "Magical?" Yeolani wasn't actually agreeing with the preposterous statement. He knew of magic's existence and didn't doubt Honiea’s claim of magic for herself, but he had never seen demonstrations of the art unless her healing touch counted. But to apply that mystical skill to himself seemed alien. Yeolani had expected magic would involve sparks and spells, potions and puffs of smoke, not just her gentle touch. Besides, he was a failed sailor, not a magician.

  "Oh, you can be both," Honiea assured him, and only then did Yeolani realize she had heard his inner thoughts, for he hadn't spoken his doubts out loud. "I'm surprised you stuck with fishing as long as you did. I would have gone inland and found another way."

  "You didn't have a father who beat you to liver and expected you to take over the ship someday, a mother and sister who needed you as a buffer from…from him. I failed at both, and now I have to suffer the consequences. I'm alone, without skills other than fishing, which I cannot do, and now you say I'm a magician? I don't mean to be rude, but, lady, I highly doubt what you are telling me."

  Honiea nodded her understanding as if his skepticism didn't surprise her. "I would doubt me too. I also doubted the first time I was told about my powers. Here in the Land, obvious magic is so rare as to be non-existent. The actual magic all lies underground like water in a well. In other countries, there would be a dozen magicians in a town the size of Simten, and they could have stopped the cholera outbreak before it even got started. Instead, there is just me and two others in this whole nation. That’s simply not enough, and we have been Seeking for you to add to our numbers. I've been looking for you for years. Now, I find you here in the middle of an epidemic, without a single skill and with no way to help you trust me when I say, yes, you are a magician…or will be. Right now, you are too young and too inexperienced in the ways of the world to take on the power, I think."

  "What's that mean? I’m a slick-eared calf then?" He bristled at the implied lack of maturity.

  "Essentially, yes. It means that I shouldn’t open the door to magic to you until you grow up a little, that’s all. If I was to start training you now, you would be frozen as you are now: sixteen, gawky and not full grown. You admit that you have no skills and have never seen more than this town. It is not right for you to make any decision about magic until you've seen more than the sea and a tiny village beside it. Have you ever been into the Fallon Forest?" Honiea asked bluntly.

  "Any idiot here has. I've been on the edge, cutting wood," he provided, a little proud of the bravery it took to go into that deep place. The rumors of what lurked in the trees sent chills down his spine.

  "And have you lived on your own, defended yourself, and struggled to feed yourself?"

  "Well," he equivocated, "no, but my family always has…had to struggle. It's not easy." Something in Honiea's smile set off his sarcastic side, and he chided her. "You try pulling sail line while you're losing your supper and dodging your captain's fist."

  "Oh, I believe you," she admitted heartily. "There are many ways to learn how to survive. I could not do what you have done any more than you could do what I've done to make my way. The point I'm trying to make is you will need to learn and master new ways and meet new people before magic can be real for you. What have you planned to do with your life now that your family is dead?"

  Reluctantly, Yeolani set down his fork completely and looked the lady in the eye. Part of him wanted to bare his soul to her, and he suspected magic subtly urged him to do this. Another part realized he could be manipulated into making decisions she would want, not what he really desired, and if he ever were free to make his own path, now it must be.

  "I…I've decided to go into Fallon Forest and make my way there. I've got nothing to lose, and now there's nothing holding me back except for my own fear."

  Honiea nodded understanding. "Very good. Truly, this is the time to make your own way. Explore the world and learn all you can,” she advised. “Is there anything you need to make your way easier?"

  Yeolani's mouth fell open in amazement. "You aren't going to try to talk me out of it? Ask me to come learn magic? Teach me some nifty trick that will make me hungry for more?"

  Honiea's expression grew secretive as she shook her head. "No, that is not the way of good magic. It would be wrong to manipulate you, and as I said, you're really too young to take on magic as of yet. It's more important that you learn to live independent of the life you've led so far. The magic will be yours when you are ready, when you need it, and you will come to it willingly. For right now, you need a pack."

  Her clever eyes must have caught sight of his impromptu bag. Without explanation, she leaned over to open her own sizable pack and pulled from it a sturdy leather knapsack capable of carrying everything he had lugged from home in a coat. Along with it, she also brought forth a thick candle and a hunting knife with a sheath he could wear on his belt. Yeolani knew his eyes probably bugged out, but he managed to shut his mouth when she placed these fine and valuable items on the table.

  "You need a knife if I'm not mistaken, as well as something better than a jacket to carry all your things in."

  With effort, Yeolani nodded, for now he had pro
of she indeed had been wandering through his mind and had conjured the things he wanted most, probably created with a magical thought from her own bag. No one who happened to be watching them from across the deserted room would ever realize those things were not there a minute before.

  "Yeolani, magic here in the Land is subtle. Most people who meet me don't know I am a magician unless they witness an act of healing, and it's best to keep it that way. This life is not easy. There are some things you must understand, even if you choose not to ever pursue magic. For one thing, there are powers out in the world that will notice you. You noticed me when you saw me at the bonfire. That… that recognition will work against you in some ways. Other magical creatures, maybe even sorcerers and demons who manipulate magic for evil, will sense you and seek you out."

  Yeolani's voice cracked dramatically. "I thought you said magicians in the Land were as rare as hen’s teeth." He didn’t want to even think about the demons he’d heard tales of, not when he was about to go into Fallon on his own.

  Honiea nodded. "True magicians, born to it natively, are incredibly rare, yes. There are only three at this time, not counting you. Here in the Land, there will eventually only be sixteen of us, the Wise Ones, according to prophesy. But this Land is…or was sealed from magic for many years, so it developed differently. Of course, anyone who wanted to make a deal with demons could be gifted with sorcery, but here in the Land, the magic is far stronger but also more subtle. I don't have to say a spell or make a potion to use my power. I only have to possess this."

  Yeolani's eyes blurred a little like he was observing her from underwater, but then he realized she'd put a kind of invisible shield around them, further protecting them from prying eyes. If he turned his head to look at the innkeeper across the room, he saw only a blurry shape, almost indistinguishable from the bar itself, but when he focused on Honiea alone, she seemed perfectly normal. She then held a small blue-white globe in her hand to show him. It pulsed with a gentle beat, white and bright as a summer sun.

  "This is a Heart Stone. All you have to do is touch it, and the magic within you will be sparked. This one is mine, but I carry yours as well. God gave it to me when he gave me your name so I would know who I was Seeking. This leads me to another important thing: your name. You must leave it behind."

  "My name? Why, by a dragon’s back tooth, do I need to change my name?" he asked. It surprised him almost as much as the unmistakable urge to reach out and touch the Heart Stone she held.

  As if she understood the temptation, the little orb disappeared back into Honiea’s pocket and the shield against anyone observing them now faded with it. "Because of those other type of magicians out there. Remember, the ones that purchased their power from demons? There’s an evil in that power. That kind of magic demands blood sacrifice and spells, and the user loses his or her soul to it. Their magic craves the native, natural power you and I possess, and it will do anything to control it. If they know your name, they can control you. You must not give them your name."

  "Control me? How?"

  Honiea's eyes flashed with a hidden challenge and what he hoped was a hint of compassion as she commanded him, "Yeolani, bark like a dog."

  Before he could react, Yeolani let out a yelp that drew the quizzical eye of the barkeeper who polished glasses across the room. Appalled, the boy tried to cover the second bark behind his hand. Then Honiea ordered him to stop before he made another animal sound. Instead, Yeolani let out a more human gasp and pushed away from the healer across the table from him, “Hell’s bells!” he swore in fear.

  "Do you see?" she whispered, obviously pained by the fear she had caused Yeolani. "I cannot harm you. It would be against the ethics of the Wise Ones, and the Heart Stone would block me. However, the sorcerers and demons have no such inhibitions. If they knew your name and that you are magical, they would use you terribly. They could even order you to die and …. and you would have to obey them. It almost happened to me."

  Yeolani waited for the story that must have been attached to a statement like that; but Honiea’s expression clouded, and she shook her head, refusing to elaborate. “That is a story for another age,” she whispered.

  Abruptly, a thousand thoughts rolled through Yeolani's mind: fear foremost, curiosity, and revulsion. How would slavery to another impact him? He had often felt like a slave aboard his father’s ship, with orders barked at him and no escape from the lash. Could he have endured more of it? No, but he was free now, free to think for himself.

  Yeolani thought about his mother and his love for her. He wanted to honor her and the name she had given him. Yeolani wanted something of that mother’s love to remain in the world as vengeance for the abuse she had withstood. Something in Lani’s son dripped with anger, and to this emotion, he reacted. He rebelled. Why would he bother with this magical claptrap if it was so manipulative? He had no desire for power. He wanted peace, quiet, and some security that he could build for himself, not relying on an unstable sea-faring life or an even less stable father. Honiea's Wise One magic sounded like more work and restriction than anything.

  Rattled and now feeling severely abused, Yeolani stood up and reached for his pack, not realizing that somehow, magically, Honiea had replaced his makeshift bag with the one she had given him. "I thank you for the meal, my Lady, but I'll be going now. I've no interest in magic," he announced with a shaky voice, and he left the inn, his life and all thought of magic behind in one swift move.

  3

  A Tree Falls

  Three months later he wanted to reconsider. Oh, at first, he had been fine with his decision and had walked the woods, sleeping under the stars and having little interaction with humans in the forest. It only took him a few days to recognize that many of the horror tales about Fallon were fiction. No demons stalked him. No dragons hunted here. Instead, he faced far more real issues than those fairy tales threatened. Yeolani wandered between the trees eating anything he could find before he realized he would soon starve if he didn't find some reliable means of hunting or trading for food. Winter was coming, and he couldn't afford to wait to find that security. He grew tired of struggling to net fish from the rivers or raiding squirrels for their hoards, and despite his desire to find his own way, he knew he wouldn't survive without help from other humans.

  As fall descended, he finally made up his mind. He couldn't continue eating hand-to-mouth and washing only when he came across a creek. He dreaded sleeping out in the open when the rains began. And worst of all, the haunting of the fairy lights would drive him insane if he didn't get under some shelter. He had heard stories of the fairies, far less frightening than demons, but at least these were real. The little sprites filled the Fallon Forest like mosquitoes on a pond. Their constant cloud of lights overhead kept him awake, and their fluttering wings invaded his dreams. He yearned for a shelter to help keep them at bay, and Yeolani deeply regretted not asking Honiea for a tent, but it was too late now.

  So, one miserably rainy evening, he finally approached one of the logging crews that supplied fuel for Simten and Savone on the forest's edge and asked for work. At first, the leader of the crew, Bowdry, looked at his scrawny frame and mocked him. "You'll not last a week.”

  Again, Yeolani's temper drove his tongue. "I'll wager you I can chop as much wood as the best man on your team," he boasted, knowing he was a fool for doing so, but he was desperate, and the smell of the stew on the evening fire captivated him. "Just give me some food, and tomorrow I'll prove I can be an asset to your crew."

  Fully half-a-dozen woodsmen in the group laughed, as if it were a joke, and encouraged Captain Bowdry to at least not back down from the challenge. Meanwhile, Yeolani stood by the fire in the center of the makeshift camp, stubbornly looking the leader in the eye, unashamed of his worn clothing or shoddy appearance. Of course, Yeolani looked needy; he was. He hadn't been able to eat or wash much over the last few days, and the constant harassment of the fairies kept him awake half the night.

  "And
what happens if you don't bring in more wood than me? What am I to get in return for this meal?" Bowdry demanded cheerfully.

  "I've got…I've got a …a very good knife. It's small, great for gutting fish. You can have it if I don't perform." In fact, it was the magically crafted one Honiea had put in his newly created pack along with a candle which she also, for some unknown reason, had given him. Yeolani really didn't want to part with the knife, but he figured that would be the only thing he owned that would tempt the crew into taking a risk on him.

  "Here, let's see what else you've got," chuckled another crew member who snatched Yeolani's pack off his shoulder. He wanted to protest but resisted, realizing these men, all rough and most probably at least his father's age, would not steal from him. He had nothing they would want. Yeolani watched impassively as the lumberjacks dumped his belongings out on the ground. Once they found the jug filled with water, not ale, they began muttering in discontent.

  Then to his surprise, one of the men lifted the candle, and everyone stopped speaking. They all turned to peer at Yeolani, a look on their faces that he couldn't interpret.

  "Where did you get the candle?" Bowdry asked in a careful voice.

  Yeolani didn't know how to answer. A candle? He had used it a few times to light his way when he had to find a place to sleep and found nothing magical about it, but obviously, these men knew something about it that he didn't. Yeolani dare not reveal his ignorance. So instead he remained silent. Stoically, he stood in the firelight waiting for an explanation, pretending he understood but had nothing to say.

  Finally, when he realized Yeolani wouldn't speak, Bowdry capitulated. "Very well, if you want work, there's a place to be had. We only have two requirements: work hard and, when there's a need, let us use the candle."