by TJ Muir
“No. At least I don’t think so. I wouldn’t even know how to go about trying.”
All three of them looked at Cham, expectant. He raised his eyebrows. “What? Are you asking how to start a fire?”
“Yes.” Came from all three of them simultaneously.
“The way it was taught, to me. Find the sun, feel her warmth. Concentrate that into one tiny focused point, and release that heat, that fire, into the point.” When nobody said a word, he laughed. “What? Were you expecting wands and magical words and flashing lights?”
Jedda flushed, embarrassed. Kirrin mad Tattia wore similar expressions. At least he wasn’t the only one without any ideas.
“If that is what one is expecting,” Cham said, “then that is not Faenyr magic. That is Chanmyran magic. Two very different creatures. Faenyr magic asks. Chanmyran magic forces, compels.”
Jedda remembered hearing something similar before, about how Chanmyrans had learned to tap into the magic forces in the world on their own because they did not possess the innate abilities the Faenyr did.
“So what can Faenyr magic do, anyway?” Jedda asked.
“It can make bows that do not miss or break. It can make fire, or bring coolness. It can do many things. It can heal both body and soul. It can change the path of your life. It can make food grow bigger and stronger. Keep herds safe. It is not an index of skills. It is a force, each Faenyr possessing different skills and abilities, much the way you are gifted with carving, where Tattia is not. But she is gifted with animals in a way neither of you two is. Kirrin is clever and quick minded. Does this help any of it make more sense?”
Jedda shrugged. “Yes, and no.”
“Good. That is a start. If you understand that you cannot and will not grasp magic, the way you can grasp maps, or reading, then at least that is progress.”
“So what does Chanmyr magic do?” Jedda asked.
Cham looked a little surprised by the question. “That, I cannot answer, because that is not something I know. Faenyr do not learn or practice Chanmyr magic.”
From the way Cham said that Jedda got the sense that the Faenyr looked down on Chanmyr magic. He looked over at Kirrin and Tattia. “Do either of you know anything about Chanmyr magic?”
They avoided both the question and his gaze. Jedda's jaw tightened. “Look, how am I going to learn anything, and figure this all out, if no one will tell me anything?” He took a breath, lowered his voice, trying to sound patient. “Have either of you done or seen any Chanmyr magic?”
Kirrin stared down at his cup, swirling the tea. “Well, obviously there is magic scattered around Tatak Rhe. But most of that is ancient. Like the hedges and bushes in the parks.”
Jedda perked up. He had forgotten about that. “But there must be people in the city that do magic, right?”
Kirrin shrugged. “There are some. Less than there used to be, from what I understand.”
“Why is that?”
Another shrug. “No idea.”
“Magic is fainter in Tatak Rhe,” Cham added. “Harder to access, as though there is less of it, or it’s blocked somehow.”
“Probably not a bad thing. The Gods only know what people like Hak’kar might do with magic in his hands,” Kirrin said.
Jedda didn’t want to get distracted talking about Hak'kar. “So how does Chanmyr magic work? What can it do?”
Tattia coughed, clearing her throat. Jedda looked at her, expectantly.“I’ve seen it used to make fires. Normal fires, that is. And to light things up, like a room. But it doesn’t last forever. A few hours, maybe, or a day or so, at best.”
“I’ve seen it used to change the way something looks. To make a person look like someone else, but mostly from a distance, not close up. And I’ve seen it used to create distractions. Like a sudden noise,” Kirrin added
Jedda wondered what kinds of situations Kirrin might have been in that required those kinds of magics. And then he decided he didn’t want to know. “Well, what about the shells that are all over the city? Those are magic, right?”
“Yeah, but those are different. Ancient magic, Tarishve magic. From the gods. No one knows how those work. Not really,” Kirrin said.
Jedda glanced over at Cham, who wore a guarded expression. He wondered if Cham knew something about the shells that most Chanmyr did not.
. “This is getting off of the topic,” Cham said.
Jedda decided not to press it. “Okay- so how does Chanmyr magic work? Like, how does someone do magic?”
Kirrin grunted slightly. “There are spells that can be learned.”
“What about Faenyr magic, then? Do you learn spells to do magic?”
Cham laughed. Jedda wasn’t sure what he had said that was so funny.
“No. Not spells. It is more like when you carve… or if you cook, you do not use a formula or recipe. You just reach for ingredients that you need, as you need them.”
“You’re saying that my problem is that I am reaching for ‘ingredients’ without knowing what I am grabbing?”
Cham looked relieved and smiled tentatively. “Yes. That is a good explanation for your problem.” He nodded as he spoke.
“So. What is the answer?” Kirrin asked.
“Jedda needs a teacher.”
It still sounded strange, hearing Cham or Kirrin call him by his real name. He had been Jay to everyone in Tatak Rhe. It didn’t sound strange when Tattia called him. But neither of the others had ever known him as Jedda, until a few weeks ago. “What kind of teacher,” he asked, bringing his attention back to the real issue. “And where do we find such a person?”
“A teacher who can train you to feel and connect and be aware of the forces that flow around you.”
“The Lya Chiqui?” he asked.
“That is one part of it, but not the core that you need to master. When you master these other things, you will learn how to tune into the Invisible River, though.”
“So. Now what?” Kirrin asked.
Cham shrugged, looking around at the group. “The time has come to move forward. This camp has become restless. We may not have a clear destination, but at least a path forward is showing itself.”
Jedda was relieved to hear Cham say that. He felt the need to move. But more than that, he also sensed what Cham was feeling. The camp had begun to seem less welcoming since his episode. He'd thought it was only his imagination.
“I think it is time to begin preparations. to move on," Cham stood. "I will go out and try to get a deer. We can smoke the venison and take it with us-- and leave some behind, to replenish the camp for future guests.”
They headed back into the cabin and began cleaning up, replenishing the firewood, and making sure to leave everything the way they had found it. None of them had much in the way of gear to pack, so they finished up quickly and then had a quiet dinner.
“Where are we going?” Jedda asked as they drank some mint tea. He missed wine and brandy, but admitted to himself that he felt better now that he was no longer living an extravagant lifestyle of endless parties and wine.
“The best thing is to head down country and see where the path leads. As we head west, there is a greater chance of running into a scouting party or someone running the herds. Then we might be able to find out where to go next. And we may just try to head west for Syrrane-- a village that might not be too far. It depends on where we actually are. I’ve been giving it some thought, about who to ask. There are bound to be a few elders that might know what Jedda needs and how to go about it.”
“Why is it so difficult?” Kirrin asked. “Why can’t any elder in any village help?”
Cham stared at him. Jedda was trying to decide if the question had been foolish, but couldn’t tell because Cham had almost no reaction.
Kirrin continued. “Jedda needs someone who can teach him to use his magic, right? There must be teachers who do that, right?”
“Two things to understand. First, belonging to a community...” Cham frowned, stretching for the r
ight words. “A tribe? Or clan? Is important among the Faenyr. It defines one as being Faenyr. Jedda is Chan’mroa. Outsider.”
“That is a problem?” Kirrin asked.
“Do you share things that are personal with someone you do not know?”
Kirrin nodded, agreeing. “Okay. Makes sense.”
“But, since Jedda is part Faenyr, and in need, it is possible that we can find someone who can and is willing to teach him. But it isn’t like there are specialists with signs hanging on their doors among the Faenyr,” Cham sighed. “Faenyr villages are a little different than Chanmyr ones. Yes, there are people with specialties, or rather, some people have particular abilities. But it is not considered… how to explain?” He paused “It is like this. In Tatak Rhe, if someone is very good at a thing, he boasts and brags and people think he is a grand person, they look up to him for excelling. It is not that way among the Faenyr. There is less specialization among them. And if you were to single someone out, they would be embarrassed.”
Jedda listened and tried to follow, knowing this was important. It was also information about him, his people- even if he wasn’t directly related to them. It was his heritage.
“Also,” Cham continued, “The Faenyr lands are vast, and not as heavily populated as human settlements. If they were not prone to moving about, they might never know people from other villages, other regions.”
“So you’re saying they aren’t all one people?” Jedda asked.
Cham paused, considering the question. “Yes and no. There are different clans, and most Faenyr would identify as either Tajynal or Shendahal.”
“Are those two tribes?”
“Yes and no. Tajynal are more plains-dwelling, herding and hunting- and some farming-- that is where you and I get our skin color from. The Shendahal dwell more to the west, in the mountains. The Shendahal are also herders and hunters but do not farm. And, I suppose they do live up to their nickname of ‘tree rats,’ as they are excellent climbers, and often build in the trees- for the winter, to be above the snow.” Cham explained.
Jedda listened with full attention, sharp focus on every word, like a child hearing about the legendary Gallius or Gilliad and learning they were related.
“Your green eyes, for example,” Cham said, “are far more common in the west, and among the Shendahal than among the Tajynal.”
“So am I Shendahal then?” Jedda asked.
“Tajynal without a doubt,” Cham said, shaking his head.
Jedda frowned. The mystery of his heritage refused to unravel into anything that made sense.
“There will be ample time to explore and learn more,” Cham assured him.
Jedda yawned, pretending to be more tired than he was, and excused himself. He just wanted to be alone, so he went and curled up on his bed, watching the moons through the window. He was dreading whatever was about to come next.
After a late breakfast, they closed up the cabin, assuring that it was left in proper condition and wood stacked, for whoever might come next. As they were finishing up their meal, Cham pushed his chair back and brushed out his hair with his fingers. Then he spent a few minutes braiding his hair. When he was done, he looked different. More exotic. Faenyr.
He shrugged. “Not the best braiding, but it is sufficient.”
As a group, they headed to the horse pen; each one tending to their own horse, checking legs, grooming, going over gear and tacking up. Jedda was pleased that he was able to pull his own weight now, and no one was looking over his shoulder to check his work.
“Come,” Cham said to Jedda, as he took Trillian by the reins and walked her over to the fire pit. Jedda handed the reins to Kirrin and followed.
Cham knelt down on the ground for a moment and reached into his pack. He motioned for Jedda to join him, and Jedda knelt down near him. Cham handed him a small clump of tobacco. Jedda could smell the rich pungent scent. He watched as Cham drew it close to his lips. It looked like he kissed it, and then he scattered it over the fire pit. He nodded to Jedda to do likewise. “To say thank you for the hospitality” Cham explained. Then he reached up, pulled a hair out, and repeated the action. Jedda copied Cham again. Last, he poured wine into the ground. When he was done, he passed the jug to Jedda. Cham watched as Jedda made his offering, and then knelt there for a moment, eyes closed. Jedda closed his eyes as well, trying to sense what Cham was doing; but he was going through the motions with no idea what it meant. He opened one eye slightly and saw Cham nod. Cham stood and swung himself up onto Trillian’s back.
The others also climbed up. Cham took a look behind to be sure they were all set, then turned his horse west, winding downward.
Jedda caught up to Cham. “What was that? At the fire pit, what were you doing?”
“I was thanking the spirits of the land for hosting us. Feeding them and wishing them prosperity and welcome to the next travelers who are in need of sanctuary.”
Jedda didn’t know what to say to that. Feeding the land? Feeding spirits? But then he remembered the land, or some dark magic, making them get lost and turned around on the trail when they first came.
“Will we have to worry about getting turned around or lost again?” Jedda asked.
Cham turned in the saddle, looking back towards Jedda. “We should be fine, so long as we stay on the trails and continue to honor the land. The boundaries are the trickiest areas.”
Jedda felt a little easier, hearing that. He remembered something Cham had told him, way back in Tatak Rhe, when he'd been so terrified of Hak’kar. Cham had begun talking about various places all over the world. Jedda thought he was insane, but Cham had explained that the world was a very big place and Hak'kar's power did not reach everywhere. At the time, Jedda could not imagine any place that Hak’kar could not touch. Now, looking out over the low rolling valley filled with trees and plants he could never have imagined, he understood what Cham had tried to make him see.
Jedda looked forward at Cham and Tattia, and glanced back to Kirrin, riding just behind him. Tension still ran through the group, but Jedda sensed that grudges were secondary now. Maybe it was the fresh air and the trail, or the calming effects of being on the horses. He reached down and patted Jespen, thinking about how much he was learning from the fellow.
That evening they made camp in a little clearing just off the trail. It looked like the place had evolved for just that purpose. Plenty of grass for the horses to graze, and a rail where they could be picketed. And across from the trail ran a stream of clear water.
After untacking and tending to the horses, Jedda led Jespen down to the stream for a drink. Jespen snorted, and began thrashing around, pawing at the water and splashing Jedda until he was soaked. “It’s okay,” Jedda said, trying to calm the gelding. “It’s just water. You’ve drunk from streams before.”
Cham came up behind him.
Jedda looked over his shoulder as he tried to reel Jespen in. “I can’t make him stop. What’s wrong? Is he sick or hurt?”
Cham laughed. “He is playing. He is having fun with the water. Becoming, no, remembering, how to be a horse. Like people, horses also need time to play, to rest their soul.”
Jedda sighed, relieved that Jespen wasn’t about to collapse and die. He loosened the lead rope and let Jespen enjoy himself, striking the water first with one foot, then the other, snorting and pawing as though he were a war horse in a ferocious battle.
“Okay, that’s enough now,” Jedda said finally-- but not before he was drenched from head to toe. He used a towel to dry them both off, put the horse away and went to search out dry clothes.
While he had his pack out, he set up his bedroll, then watched as Cham started a small fire. Jedda tried to see how he did it. Cham just held his hands near the dry grass and twigs, and then they started to smolder and glow. He waved his hands slightly, as though pushing the fire into the wood, and it began to flare up. But Jedda couldn’t tell how he had made it happen. He was annoyed that his strongest skill, observing, was of no hel
p.
Cham seemed to sense this, and stood up, walking over to Jedda’s side of the fire. He clapped him on the shoulder, brotherly. Jedda sighed. It looked like Cham was about to say something. But then Cham looked over Jedda’s shoulder and smiled.
“What?” Jedda asked, turning his head.
Cham pointed down the hill, where they had a view of the valley. “Over to the left a bit.”
“What? More trees?”
“No,” Cham said, ignoring Jedda’s jibe. “Smoke rising, likely a camp fire. If we are lucky, within the next day or so, we might be able to cross paths with them.”
“Should we keep going, now?” Kirrin asked, coming up on Jedda’s other side, looking where Cham had pointed. “We could lose them, if they keep moving.”
Cham shrugged. “They may. Or they may not. But we can follow their tracks.”
“That’s if they are on horseback,” Kirrin said.
Cham looked at Kirrin as though he had said something very foolish.
“What?” Kirrin asked.
“Because this is Tajynal land. That is the edge of the range. They will be riding.” Cham said, sounding like he was stating the obvious.
Jedda stared down the mountain, watching the thin trail of smoke rising up until it disappeared in the darkening sky. Faenyr. Excitement and anxiety mixed in equal parts. What were they like and what would they think about him—an outsider and a half-breed?
Chapter Eight
By late afternoon, they were most of the way down the mountain. The trail was deceptive. From their camp, it looked like a day’s ride would get them down to where they had spotted the fire. But the trail down from the mountain curved up to the north first, before cutting back toward the floor of the valley. The trail was almost a road now, where they could ride comfortably, and sometimes all four of them could ride side by side.
That evening, they came out of the forest to the edge of the valley, where rolling hills and fields stretched as far as they could see. The sun was setting across the plains, washing the valley floor in deep purples and dusty magenta hues. Jedda stood in awe, taking it in.