Solem

by Clive S. Johnson

  “What is it, Janeen?”

  “Swede and wild potato, oh, and thinly sliced affodille, to perk it up a bit.”

  “Right,” and Craith poked it with his fingertip. When Janeen tucked into her own with apparent enjoyment, he briefly raised an eyebrow before cautiously trying his. This time his eyebrows lifted of their own accord. The taste was, if not mouth-watering, at least palatable. “Hmm, the affodille certainly makes a difference.”

  “It’s useful, but easily overdone. I’m sure you wouldn’t want the runs.”

  “Er, no. Thanks for that, Janeen!”

  “Oh, sorry. I didn’t think.”

  Despite this, Craith found himself scooping more into his mouth. “Wouldn’t it be better cooked?” he mumbled past his mouthful.

  “Fulmer said to bring a flint, but I told him it’d be of no use to me; I can’t see fire. I’d end up burning myself, or burning down the forest.”

  “But I’ve got a flint with me, although t’tinder’s likely sodden by now, but I can always make some more. Why don’t I—”

  “That’s where we differ, Craith. In The Green, we rarely use fire, whereas here no one thinks twice about it.”

  “So we’d make a good union then, don’t you reckon. You know…you and me?”

  At first, Janeen said nothing, but then lines scored what little he could see of her forehead above the pain-guard. “What will they do to Fulmer?” she asked.

  “The dwelgefa? Er, well, I don’t really know. I’ve never heard of Gryff arresting anybody before. I didn’t even know they ‘ad constables, ‘acting’ or otherwise.”

  “And now you’re separated from your family…and your trade. How’s your mum going to cope?”

  “There’s m’brother, Digga, although he’s not likely to get Gryff’s stipend, not after what I’ve done. Trouble is: there’s plenty of carters in The Espousal, even in Crook’s Fold. They’ll make ends meet, though; I’m sure they will.”

  “And Sharman? What about him?”

  “Oh, I reckon he’ll be all right. Sharmans are ‘ard come by: a lifetime o’ knowledge about boats and their own stretch o’ river. And ‘is apprentice ain’t old enough yet. Nah, they’ll probably turn a blind eye to his part in it all. They can train-up any number o’ dwelgefas, hire as many carters as they like, but sharmans are like rocking horse shit.”

  “So, it seems Fulmer’s fate’s unknown, but likely unpleasant, and you’re a homeless outlaw.”

  “That’s why this is the only place I can live now. What d’you say, Janeen, eh? We’d make a good union, wouldn’t we? Your knowledge of the forest and being able to see in the dark, my proper sight for making fire and the like. We could make a good life here for ourselves; keep each other company. A damned good union if you ask me, all things considered.”

  “A good union? I suppose it could have been.”

  “Could have? How about ‘will be’?”

  “It can’t be, Craith. I’m sorry, but it wouldn’t be right; it wouldn’t be fair on you and your family, and certainly not on Fulmer. His life is his place in Halden Weald, with his pigs and goats and his vegetable plots, not to mention his beer.”

  “But that’s all over now, Janeen; what’s done is done.” Janeen quietly stared at Craith until he was forced to say, “Come on, Janeen. Spit it out, though I’ve a feeling I won’t like what you’re going to say.”

  “I have to agree, Craith; we will make a good union, you and me, a very good one—as trader and traded goods.”

  “Eh?”

  “We’re going to Gryff, the two of us, and you’re going to trade me for yours and Fulmer’s freedom.” She grabbed his arm before the rising fire in his blood could spill out. “Now hang on, Craith. I got us all into this, so I’ve got to get us out, and the only way I know—”

  “What about Solem, eh?” Craith fumed, the first selfless objection his fumbling mind could find. “You said Solem told you you were special, and we both know where the dwelgefa’s rules said damaged demons had to go. Do you really think your being drowned in the river is what Solem meant by ‘Special’? And how do you think me and Fulmer could live with that, eh? Knowing our freedom was bought with your life. How, Janeen? Tell me that.”

  She stood and stared down at him, as only she could.

  “What of Solem, Janeen?” he again demanded, rising to his feet before her.

  She flinched and dipped her head, enough to stir Craith. He embraced her, hugged her tightly to his chest, tears long since having welled now dropping to her hair pressed close beneath his cheek.

  And so they stood for some time, the wolf angling its head up at their mingled hair and tears and breath, until Janeen moved her face away from his. Her cheeks quivered, then a hard-fought-for smile surfaced, softening her lips.

  “But,” she whispered, “Solem also said ‘Trust in me’, and I can do no other, not after having felt her enter my heart. If you can’t do the same, Craith, then I ask that you put your trust in me, in my heart’s certainty that my path lies clearly before me—all the way to Gryff.”

  31 Then They were Legion

  All morning, as they sat on the ground before the bud-house, Craith tried to dissuade Janeen from what he wholeheartedly saw as a doomed venture. She was clearly adamant, though, and seemed to have her whole course already charted out.

  “But if you’re to keep yourself hidden until I do a deal with Gryff, how on Earth are we going to get there? We can’t very well brazenly walk down the road. I mean, we both look like ragamuffins and are bound to attract attention, especially with you wearing your pain-guard.”

  “We’ll go through the forest.”

  “We’ll do what? Do you know the way?”

  “No, but you’ve been there, so you must know where it is.”

  “By road, yes. Otherwise, all I know is it’s a full day’s walk towards the noon-high and on high ground, quite possibly the highest in The Espousal, but I can’t be sure. And anyway, we can’t rely on seeing the Sun to guide us, not down here in the forest. We’ll be lucky to see it at all.”

  “But I can see it.”

  “Eh?”

  “I can mind-see the Sun, through the canopy.”

  “How?”

  “When I saw Solem’s face, it—”

  “Oh, come on, Janeen. Solem’s a way of life, not a…a person or owt. You know that, really. It’s just a name for how we live our lives within the world’s limited means. What do they call it? a…a phil–something.”

  “A philosophy.”

  “That’s it; rules for living t’best way we can, without screwing up t’world.”

  Janeen looked up at the canopy. “When the wolves attacked me and I saw Solem—”

  “Thought you did, in your desperation. Imagined it, Janeen.”

  “When I saw Solem, I remembered having seen her before, many times throughout my childhood; each previous time forgotten. But not this time, Craith. This time something was different—something grown out of fear.”

  “Fear?”

  “The thing is, Craith: I can see, in my mind, when the Sun’s at noon-high, as it nearly is now.”

  Craith looked up but saw nothing but layer upon layer of leaves above a black tracery of branches.

  “So, all we need do is head—that way,” and she pointed towards where the pond lay hidden.

  Craith cradled his head in his hands and groaned softly to himself. “This is madness, Janeen. So, we’ll only know which way to go once a day—great!”

  She finally turned to him, a grin spread beneath her pain-guard. “But I also see sunbeams, Craith, shooting out from the Sun.”

  “You have gone mad, lass; truly. Sunbeams?”

  “Streaking across the sky, like water streaming down a…down a windowpane,” and a look of wonder replaced her grin. “I—I can tell what time of day it is by their angle across the sky, and how splayed they are.”

  “Angle? Splayed?”

  “And so where, at any time of day, the no
on-high Sun would sit—simple.”

  “You do know we’re just going to end up wandering around the forest for the rest of our lives.”

  “Trust me, Craith. Trust my own trust in Solem.”

  He threw himself back against the ground, his hands behind his head, and found himself looking up into the wolf’s suspicious eyes. “Do you trust her?” he asked the creature, and it bent, tongue lolling, and licked the side of his face before trotting over to sit beside Janeen.

  “I don’t believe it,” Craith said, wiping his cheek, “outvoted by a bloody wolf. And a mangy one at that,” and Janeen laughed.

  The following morning, they set out at first light. Janeen carried everything she now owned in a shoulder bag, the leaf-blanket draped around her shoulders like a cloak. Slobber, as Craith had named the wolf, followed close at their heels.

  Retracing their way through the press of slender white trunks and out of the dene, they came down to a narrow gorge that ran, according to Janeen, towards the noon-high. It climbed beneath the high canopy of great and ancient trees, steadily narrowing as its confining walls lessened in height.

  Craith knew, if Janeen’s strange sense of direction was right, that they must strike Dagning Way at some point, given it ran all the way across The Espousal. Sure enough, they soon came to a ridge of grass-topped loose stones beyond which they could see the wide swathe the road cut through the forest. They stopped for a rest, sitting on the stones, watching through the trees for any sign of traffic.

  “Yesterday, Janeen, you said ‘Fear’. ‘Something grown out of fear’. What did you mean?”

  “Ah, yes,” she said, absently, her mouth dropping open a little, as though she’d become lost in thought. “You remember when you thumped Fulmer, when I was trying to have a wash? Well, that was the first time I saw you…in my imagination, what you looked like, what you were doing.”

  “Yeah, like thumping the poor old dwelgefa. But I really did think he was—”

  “I was so scared then, terrified you were going to…well, to kill him, I suppose. Then there was the night Gryff came calling, looking for me, and that scared the shit out of me, it really did. But I mind-saw so much more then, and in such better detail, and it lasted.”

  “You’ve not really had a great time in The Espousal, have you, Janeen?”

  “And of course, when I thought my end had finally come at the jaws of the wolves,” and she patted Slobber’s head beside her, “well, that was beyond fear. So much so that from that day on I’ve been able to mind-see almost as well as I once saw with my eyes. It seems, for some reason, fear has brought me a vision I’d always had but would never accept. Strange that, isn’t it, Craith? I keep wondering why, and is it just me or do we all have such sight locked away within us.”

  “I dunno, Janeen, but if you’re rested, doesn’t look like there’s owt on t’road. Maybe we ought to get across now, eh?” and Janeen slowly nodded.

  As she rose, he softly said, “Fear can do odd things to us, Janeen,” and only to himself, “which is what worries me the most.”

  She smiled, distantly, but then glanced to both sides, through the trees of the forest. “There’s no one on the road for a long way, Craith. It’s safe to cross.”

  “Is that how you found me, with your strange sight?”

  “Found you? Oh, no, Craith. No. You’ve the wolves to thank for that; I couldn’t see you through the rock you were hiding in. They must have scented you as a threat. I just noticed they were agitated, and followed their lead.”

  “Oh,” and Craith looked down at Slobber in a new light.

  Despite Janeen’s assurances, Craith was all eyes as they crept out of the forest and towards the long, straight stretch of road. It was indeed clear as far as he could see, until they began to cross.

  Both ways, all along the road and far into the distance, the low, fleeting forms of wolves crossed with them. When he stopped Janeen to point them out, the wolves too all stopped, turned and stared up Dagning Way towards them—waiting.

  “Bloody Dwargstor,” Craith gasped. “Just look at them all!” and Janeen did, jolting at what her mind could see.

  “There must be hundreds of them,” she marvelled. “Where’ve they all come from?”

  “More importantly, why? That’s what I’d like to know. What in Solem’s name are they all up to?”

  32 A Dark Past

  When Craith, Janeen and Slobber moved on into the forest on the other side of the road, the wolves swept in with them. Like a wave, they surged across until once more soaked up by the forest. It brought Craith to wonder about Solem, as he’d never done before, as no one he’d ever known had ever done before. Could Janeen really be right? Was Solem more than just a way of life? As he watched Janeen stealthily lead them deeper into the forest, he began to suspect that maybe there was much more to life than he’d realised before.

  He stopped, frozen in thought, marvelling at his unaccustomed wondering as Janeen slowed to a halt and turned to look back. He stared at her, now standing half hidden by the bracken through which she’d ploughed. How much more is there to Janeen? he wondered, or have I been no more than bewitched, like the wolves?

  “You all right?” she called.

  “Er, yeah; just a bit o’ pain from my arm,” he lied and then pushed on, to catch her up.

  For most of the morning they laboured through the forest’s often dense undergrowth, trying to follow Janeen’s sense of where noon-high should be. Even when they overcame the vegetation, the terrain itself seemed set on barring their way. It had steadily risen, drawing them into dark valleys that insisted on running the wrong way, always towards the winter-rise.

  They’d taken to climbing the valley sides, surmounting each ridge only to find yet another but higher one in the way of their elusive goal. On top of a particularly sharp and high ridge, the trees had thinned enough to give Craith a limited view ahead.

  “Bloody Dwargstor,” he exclaimed. “Just look at ‘em. Which way’s noon-high again, Janeen?” She pointed across a long series of rising ridges, the valleys between seeming to become even deeper and bluer as they vanished into the distance.

  “This ain’t goin’ to work,” he sighed, hands on hips as he stared at the daunting sight. “The ground’s against us, lass. Those ridges are getting pretty high; we’re going to knacker ourselves cutting across them all. We either turn to the winter-rise for high ground or head round the valley mouths, towards the winter-set.

  “I never knew anywhere could be this high. Is this what’s called a mountain?”

  “Aye, Janeen, it is, the slopes of, and somewhere up there is Gryff. But I’m buggered if I know where.” He stared at her for a moment, Slobber now lying at her feet. “Are you sure you want to go through with this, Janeen? ‘Cos you know, I don’t think Gryff would do owt really bad to the dwelgefa. What did he reckon? Get him scrubbing refectory floors for the rest of his life; wasn’t that it? I think he’d be more than content with a penance like that for keeping you safe.”

  She didn’t look happy as she turned away from the heights and stared down at the valley mouths. “It’s… It’s more than that, Craith.”

  “What? More than throwing your life away just for the sake of mine and Fulmer’s freedom?”

  “I’ve lived my whole life not meant to be. Do you know that, Craith? Hiding who I was from everyone in Delph, worrying both my parents to death—” She broke into tears and dropped her head to her hands. It took Craith by surprise but then he tentatively slid his arm around her shoulders.

  “What is it, Janeen? What’s—”

  She pushed him away, now sobbing fitfully, shaking her head. “You’ve no idea,” and the intensity of her hidden stare almost knocked him back. “I’m a demon, Craith. Don’t you understand? I bewitch people, bend them to my will, and…and by it, ruin their lives. I always have—always will whilst I’m still alive.”

  “But Janeen—”

  “I killed my mother; don’t you see? I realise
that now; I tore her apart: her trust in the ancient ways stretched beyond what she could bear by my damned bewitching. And I nearly killed my father. Almost, though he had the strength and support to pull himself back; thank Uncle Calver for that.”

  She looked pained, cried out in anguish and fled down the ridge, pushing wildly through the undergrowth, seemingly fleeing from her own uncovered truths.

  At first, Craith only stared after her, his mind reeling. Then at full pelt, he crashed through the forest in pursuit. She was fleet of foot, though, and kept well ahead until abruptly dropping from sight.

  When Craith skidded to a halt above a gulley, Janeen sat at the bottom of a long scrape of lose dry earth, her head once again in her hands, her shoulders heaving. He scrambled down and dropped to the ground behind her, his arms enfolding and rocking her back and forth as he murmured soothing words in her ear. Even Slobber slithered down and stood before her, licking the hands she’d hard-pressed to her face. She lowered one and ran her fingers shakily along the wolf’s neck.

  “Neither of you should be here,” she forced out between subsiding sobs.

  “Did you hurt yourself?”

  She dropped her other hand but barely shook her head. “I understand now what my dad meant by his last words to me, why he phrased it the way he did: ‘Remember I always loved you, always will’, as though hinting at a dark time when he hadn’t, when he’d blamed me. O, Mum, I’m so sorry, so very sorry.”

  Slobber dragged his long tongue across Janeen’s face, so firmly he dislodged her pain-guard. Her hand snapped up, but paused, her head turning this way then that.

  “Craith?”

  “Yes, Janeen?”

  “Would you undo my guard?”

  He fumbled with the knot at the back of her head. “When did you last undo this? It’s really tight.”

  “Er, I can’t remember; a while back. I’d sort of forgotten about it.”

  Finally, he loosened the thong and prised the knot apart, her hand meanwhile holding the guard against her eyes.

  “That’s it, Janeen. It’s undone.”