Life Giver

by Lisa Lowell

  Yeolani sighed with frustration. "No one knew I was magic until I made the mistake of swatting at fairies," he muttered. "And that's another thing, why are they so fascinated with me? I'm about as interesting as an old stump."

  Vamilion was about to reply when Honiea came out of the forest looking haggard as if she'd been doing hard labor for weeks and hadn't stopped to rest. Both men rose, Vamilion to comfort her, and Yeolani suspected he might have to catch her before she fell. She looked twice as exhausted as he felt.

  "They love you," she replied to his forgotten question, "because you are like them, young, new, and magical. You're their new toy."

  Yeolani didn't comment on that but began conjuring a chair and then a more respectable effort at a supper and a fire. He and Vamilion had not bothered. Obviously, Honiea had been working far harder than they had and needed to refresh herself or she would be worthless. What had Vamilion called it: private magic? Well, it had left her as weak as a wet rag, and Vamilion had to practically carry her to the seat and hold the fork for her once she sat. She ate slowly at first as if she felt too tired and wanted to just lay her head down amid the dishes and fall asleep there, but she was too much of a healer to let herself do that. She needed to replenish. Once she got going, she ate with single-mindedness, and the two men let her eat in peace, content to wait for her explanation.

  Finally, after she'd eaten twice as much as they had, Honiea leaned back in the dark and explained what she'd done with the fairies that Yeolani had cursed.

  "Fairy magic is meant to be a harbinger,” she clarified. “Owailion used to be coated with them whenever he came deep enough into the Fallon. They aren't like demons, living in Limbo until they get an opportunity to come to the physical world. They are native here in the Land and have a mandate from God to 'welcome' new magic, but their reputation for being troublemakers sometimes gets in the way of their decorum. So, I've found a new job for these particular fairies."

  She must have hidden the bag magically, but now she pulled into existence a sack that writhed oddly. The leftover dishes disappeared as Honiea put her burden on the table and she poured it out. Dozens of furry little creatures, eyeless, limbless, and without mouths or tails rolled out and began exploring the edges of the table. Each gave off a soft burping sort of purr.

  "What, on God’s green earth, are they?" Yeolani asked, reaching out a hand to pet one, perhaps to pick it up, but the little furball scurried away with an offended yip.

  "Life Givers," Honiea explained. "Remade fairies. They have a new task. They will be helpers to the Seeking. They will be in service to magic and far less bothersome in these new bodies. If they do their duty, they will return to their old form someday."

  "Not all fairies," Yeolani wanted to be sure, "just the ones I cursed? What is this new service?"

  "They will escort someone's human soul back from Limbo if they have died. The human body will still need to be repaired, but they'll come back, and the fairy soul will get a new body capable of flitting between the two worlds."

  "That sounds as complicated as…as…as a snowstorm on a fishing boat," Yeolani murmured.

  "That sounds amazing,” countered Vamilion. “I've never seen magic on that scale unless it's something Owailion…and his lady, did as he established the Wise Ones." Vamilion was obviously proud of his wife and said as much.

  When Yeolani tried once again to reach for one of the little Life Givers, they still did not trust him and scurried for the edge of the table nearest Honiea. With a concerned look, she gathered them up and began putting them back in her sack.

  "I'm afraid that they don't trust you much right now," she apologized. "It will take a while, but as you're the only Seeking Wise One right now, they'll be drawn to you eventually."

  "Very well," Yeolani replied frankly. "I don't much trust them either…about as much as I trust myself."

  7

  East and West

  A month later, Yeolani walked out from under the southern edge of the forest and onto the open plains. There he finally saw the same image from his aborted dream, but this time, without the fairy interference, he could truly appreciate it. In fact, the only fairy nearby was the single fluffy little Life Giver that had followed him, rolling and bumping along the forest floor in Marit's wake on the day they had left. It had looked pathetic by the end of that first day, covered in dirt and pine needles. Eventually, Yeolani had taken pity, snatched up the creature against its protests, and picked it free of debris. After that, the Life Giver allowed itself to be carried in Yeolani's pack, almost forgotten.

  Certainly forgotten as Yeolani finally saw what he had come to find: the plains. He had never seen anything so fascinating. In the late summer, with the grass all bronzed gold, with the wind whipping late summer clouds into a flurry, he felt the majesty of the sea without its terrible memories. It even moved in waves, interrupted only by the slow bend of the western branch of the Lara River that Yeolani had followed out of the forest. He also forgot Vamilion who had come with him, still training him in the mental exercises needed to utilize his magic. Yeolani still couldn't get through to Vamilion's thoughts without permission, but neither could the King of Mountains get into the younger man's shields now that he had strengthened his endurance and lost some of his inhibitions.

  Looking out over the open plains, Vamilion paused too but peered knowingly at his young protégé, caring little for the scenery himself. When Yeolani didn't move, Vamilion smiled. "Like you've just seen the most beautiful woman in the world."

  "What?" Yeolani started, distracted from admiring of the landscape and had forgotten he even had a companion.

  "You are the King of the Plains," Vamilion announced frankly. "You dreamed of them, and now that you've seen them, they've put you in a spell…like the most beautiful woman in the world."

  “Hell’s Bells,” Yeolani acknowledged it. “I need to…to be here.”

  He'd almost gotten accustomed to the strange things magic had done to him: making him think more deeply about the nature around him, recognizing the life in every speck of the world, and the relationship between each facet, but he had not expected to be so overcome with awe and the feeling that he had come home. Indeed, it was as if he'd seen something so glorious that he doubted he would be able to move from this spot. He wanted to run as fast as he had in his dream and embrace this wondrous grassland like a lover. Dancing under the thunderclouds seemed like a fine pastime. He could lie down in the deep grasses and disappear forever and be content.

  "And then there's your appearance," Vamilion commented, directing Yeolani’s attention away from the scenery and closer to home.

  Yeolani looked down at his clothing and felt his jaw drop further. Now, under this magical influence, he wore sage green leather breeches with gold thread depicting wheat growing up to his knees and boots the color of rich earth, polished to a high shine. His shirt, a stunning white to match the color of the rising summer clouds, billowed in the wind. Over that he wore a vest of brushed gold velvet that stood stiffly against his body with stitching depicting horses running across the plains and on his back, a gold and storm gray cloak of velvet fell down to his ankles.

  "But…but I didn't do any high magic. How did this… I can’t go about… Make it go."

  "It's almost an oath. Whenever we make a magical connection this profound, you will shift into the regalia of a King. It also affirms that you are indeed the King of the Plains.

  Yeolani brushed at the ornate embroidery in alarm. "I can't go walking the world, looking like some…some dandy. How do I make it disappear?" But before he could get the words out, the magic faded as if almost on his request, and he watched as the fine clothing shifted back into the traveling leathers he had magically crafted for himself when he was experimenting with conjuring supplies for this trip south.

  "Well, a lot of good that did. Now that I know where my connection is, what am I supposed to do with that knowledge? What are the powers of a King of the Plains?" Yeolani asked s
imply.

  "Where does your instinct want you to go? Something out there must be calling to you, demanding your attention," replied Vamilion.

  “How would I…know…I know there’s something…south of here. Along the river. How did I know that?”

  Vamilion laughed back at him. "You are a Seeking King. Follow those instincts. And at this point, I leave you. You’ll learn what you’re capable of just by experimenting and following the Wise One instincts you’ve been given. You're able to communicate with me from afar if you need to," he added when he saw the panicked look on his protégé's face.

  "But…but I've still got so much to learn. I only just found out I'm the King of the Plains, and I have no idea what that means."

  Vamilion chuckled. "Neither do I. This is like when you were learning to hunt. I've given you the tools. Now you must go hunting." Then without further comment, Vamilion disappeared, not unlike how his wife often just shimmered out of existence.

  "Like how do you do that disappearing act?" Yeolani shouted out at the sky to no one. When he got no reply, he had to relent. With no other ideas, he then took a steadying breath, holding it as he would before firing an arrow, and indeed he did feel like the free wind was pushing him south toward the river. Yeolani swallowed his fear and began walking, followed by Marit, who frolicked in the long grass.

  Yeolani walked for a week before he began seeing signs of civilization: a footpath along the bank of the river that began to widen into a cart path. Then he saw a cabin up under the bank's trees, a cultivated field with wheat, and cows out grazing. Yeolani paused every evening to work on his map that he was crafting. Vamilion’s maps only focused on the geological markings of sea, river, mountains, and plains. Yeolani knew there were people out there, and he wanted to mark villages and towns like the one he expected soon to show up on this river.

  At dusk of his sixth day on the plains, he wasn't disappointed. A sizeable town, larger than Simten, appeared on the eastern shore of the river, and with the torch lights visible for over a mile, Yeolani couldn't wait to sleep in a real bed again. Unfortunately, he was coming down the western shore of this branch of the Lara River, and he feared he might not find a village on his side.

  He looked down at Marit, whose tail wagged patiently, hoping for supper. "Should I toss you in and swim over, or is there a bridge?" Yeolani asked, but the dog remained silent.

  This too must be part of Yeolani’s training; wait and see for yourself. So, Yeolani didn't bother hoping for a river crossing at dusk, but decided if he kept walking, he would get an idea of how to do what he was feeling prompted to try, whatever that was. So, the magician and his dog would keep walking.

  An hour later, in the solid shadows of night, Yeolani saw that there was indeed a village on the west side of the river opposite the much larger eastern side town. He had lost it in the lights and glare off the river. Good, he would still be able to find his warm bed after all and not bother crossing the water. From what little he could see, this much smaller town seemed dedicated to shipping grain down the river. It boasted several docks and roads spread out into the prairie with little direction, off to unseen farms. He passed a huge pen meant for cattle, but it stood empty, and no one seemed to be on the paths. On the other side, however, the streets echoed with the sounds of busy shops and inns with conversation and music drifting across the water.

  Yeolani walked into the empty streets of West looking for an inn and found one with little trouble. As he surveyed the shabby buildings and stretched out his mind, he got a sense of the people who were living here. They seemed tired and depressed. There were few of them too, as if everyone had gone over to the eastern shore to join the party, leaving just those whose work required them to stay on the western side. Yeolani wondered about the differences as he stepped into the only inn this side of the river boasted.

  "Oy, the dog can't come in," called someone with a gruff voice from within the dark common room. Only a single fire, burning low, lit the room, and no one else seemed to frequent this pitiful inn. Yeolani ordered Marit to stay on the stoop, and then he stepped deeper into the murk and up to the barkeeper who stood uselessly polishing already clean glasses at the bar.

  "Where is everyone? Is your cooking so bad that you’ve made this a tomb?" Yeolani commented to the wary barkeeper. Yeolani's magical senses told him he was the only human in the whole establishment. "Or are they all on the other side celebrating something I'm missing?"

  The barkeeper didn't answer but went to his hearth and served up a meat pie he had made and then placed before him. "My food’s fine. What are you drinking, sir?" He wasn't too pleased when Yeolani asked for water, but he ladled that up and then went back to washing his glasses, ignoring the question.

  "Come, sir," Yeolani insisted, feeling the need to engage in a conversation at least. "If I'm going to spend the night or be of some help, can't you at least tell me what's happened?" And greatly daring, he put a little magical prompting into the innkeeper's mind and brought up the fire with a thought to lighten the gloomy atmosphere.

  With that encouragement, the innkeeper came over and sat at the table with Yeolani and began bearing his burdens to his client. "It's been a year since the new lord came to East," began the poor business owner. "At first, he was all talk about combining the towns, building a bridge across the river to this side and making this a great city like over the sea. He wanted to trade on ships coming this far north and then bring goods back off the plains and out of the forest. But in order to do that, the West needed to pay into East's coffers, its half for a bridge and the dock improvements. West's mayor, Dinek, he paid the taxes, up until it got to be too much, and with little to show for it. Tribute, more like. The money went to troops, outlander troops that came up the river to do the building but ended up just staying to bully more money out of us. Dinek's dead now, and we're still paying to have these troops here on our shore, and meanwhile East has gotten bigger and richer. There's no business here, and we're paying the same tribute."

  Yeolani's heart sank. What good would magic be in this situation? Of course, the prompting had been to come down the Westside, to the people who were suffering the abuses of the East. And it sounded truly like East thrived under these tactics, but it left West desolate and deserted. How was a novice magician supposed to cure this problem?

  "Why don't you move your inn to the other side?" Yeolani replied inanely, not really thinking about what that entailed.

  "You, sir, are a fool," the bartender grumbled, looking hurt. "I serve the farmers and ranchers on this side of the river because they need me. My family has owned this place for three generations. I'm not about to walk away from it because it gets difficult. I'd rather fight the East than give into it. A man would, and you're a coward."

  Yeolani rocked back in surprise and put down his fork, feeling foolish. Of course, his host was right. He hadn't been using his head. Here he had offered his help to this man, and now he wasn't even listening. Something of the Wise One instincts finally kicked in, and he carefully considered his next words before he spoke this time.

  "I'm sorry. You're right, I am a fool. Please, tell me more about this Lord in the East. How many soldiers has he brought?"

  The innkeeper dropped his rag on the table in disgust, his hands trembling with ire. "What's a young whelp like you going to do about city politics?" In fact, his anger got the better of him, and he started to throw down the mug he also held, ready to smash it to make his point, but Yeolani acted quicker.

  The expected shattering of crockery never came. Yeolani stopped the mug before it hit the slate floor and lifted it slowly so the barkeeper could see it hovering and set it lightly on the counter. For good measure, Yeolani filled it with ale magically and then passed it toward the man, all without breaking eye contact with the bewildered innkeeper.

  "That's no way to treat your own crockery, let alone a fine ale. I've come to help because I was sent. Now, as I was asking, please tell me about this Lord and all you can a
bout the men he's brought into East. You and I need to make a plan."

  Yeolani walked through the crowded streets of East, observing, counting and hoping he didn't stand out. He held his magic at low levels, and except for his personal shields, no one would have any reason to think he was not a native of the town. He had even left Marit with Sethan, the innkeeper who finally admitted the dog would cause no issues and probably would protect the inn from the ramifications of what they were plotting. It took a week of spying and plotting with Sethan, the innkeeper, and his few farmer friends, but they had a plan that should work, or so Yeolani hoped.

  He felt fairly confident of his estimations gathered over the previous week. He knew who was magical among the newcomers to East and who was simply under orders. The Lord of East had plenty of minions, but only a few were magical, and he himself was only a spokesman for the outlanders. That realization gave Yeolani an idea, and while it took some heavy convincing, he had talked Sethan into becoming the spokesman for the West. Yeolani kept in mind that, when this was done, the two towns must be able to function with the new arrangement without further magical intervention. That required someone with Sethan's willingness to stay and work for his people. Yeolani's magic could only be in the background. The actual uniting work would have to be performed by the townsfolk, not him.

  And the perfect time to launch their plan had arrived. Harvest was imminent, and the ships on the river came and went loaded with the bounty of the year like at no other time. Soon East would be celebrating with a yearly harvest festival, and this would provide the best opportunity to make their point. So, West had been promised a bridge, a better port, and that they would become a great city like those across the sea. In that case, Yeolani would give them some of what they were promised and get rid of the outlander magicians at the same time. He just had to be sure he had covered all the possible reactions of the East and that he had the full support of the people of West.