Wolf's Eye

by Rae D. Magdon

  “My grandmother told stories,” I broke the silence. “I wish I could see her again,” I added regretfully.

  “I know you will see her again,” Larna said firmly. “Tell me more about her.”

  “I will, but only if you tell me something about your past.” Larna frowned. This was not a surprise. Larna always seemed uncomfortable discussing her life before she joined the Farseer pack. If she needed time, I would give it to her. “Or something about you, things you like,” I suggested instead.

  “I like you.” Larna’s frown became a charming smile and my heartbeat got faster. She really was good looking. “I like swimming. I like to be making things with my hands. I was after watching the tradespeople in the town I grew up in, the basketweavers and the blacksmiths and the woodcarvers. I enjoy making any sort of thing.” And she was strong enough for the work, too, I thought. I admired her broad shoulders and the long muscles of her arms.

  “Did you build this hut?” I asked.

  “I helped,” Larna said modestly. “A group of us put up most of them together. What do you enjoy, Cate?”

  I thought about it for a moment. “I can mend and sew, but I do not enjoy it much. I can cook and clean, too… You know, I worked as a servant for so long that I have no idea what I like to do.” I had never thought about it before. Suddenly, I realized how much I was missing in my life. It was time to start forging my own identity. The most important thing missing from my life at Baxstresse, though, was Larna.

  “Will you show me what you do?” I asked. “I want to find things I enjoy.”

  “I will show you whatever you wish. Be you not enjoying your magic lessons?”

  “They are very interesting,” I said. “I meant some sort of hobby or work. Magic is more like… a part of me.” A thought struck me. “Are you disappointed? That I am Ariada ?” Larna’s face did not twist at the word. I remembered that Ariada was not a curse in Amendyr, only an adjective.

  “Why would I be? I am not understanding magic, but it is useful and interesting. You are interesting. If it is a part of you, I like it.”

  I smiled, reassured. “You are a part of me, too, Larna.” I blinked, surprised at what I had said. I regretted it until Larna smiled back, showing a row of neat white teeth.

  “And you are a part of me.” That made me smile, too.

  …

  In fairy stories, the suffering, the longing, ends when the two lovers find each other at last. But that is only in stories. At Baxstresse, I ached for someone to complete my soul. Now that I had found Larna, I discovered the sharp, persistent pain of waiting. The hardest part was just beginning.

  Our touches were cautious. Even our kisses were careful. Knowing she was just across the room, but so far away, left me cold at night. I wanted Larna to return to her bed, where she belonged. With me. But I did not know how to ask.

  I knew that Larna was waiting for me. At any moment, I could ask her to make love to me, to take what belonged to her. She would accept. But could I give her what she wanted? What she deserved?

  I warred with my fears constantly. What if I disappointed her? What if it was too soon? What if I made a mistake? I did not think that Larna would hurt me, but sometimes, thoughts of Luciana rose to the surface. I worked hard to shove them down.

  Perhaps some of it was guilt. Wanting a quiet, tender lover would have been easier on my conscience. But that was not the lover that haunted my dreams. I wanted Larna to have me roughly. I needed her to consume me. Mark me. Claim me. Lose herself in her own need and hurt me a little. Then, I would remember how Luciana had hurt me. That was not what I wanted with Larna at all.

  Other times, I thought about Ellie and Belladonna. I remembered the scene I stumbled upon months ago. How tender Belladonna had been with my friend. The whispered words. The joy and sweetness in their kisses. Would it be like that with Larna?

  She had no idea, of course. To her, I was something gentle and precious, to be handled delicately. I was not ready, so she would wait. Larna was interesting, but her thoughts and feelings were not complex or hard to interpret. She was wonderfully simple. My thoughts and feelings were a jumbled mess. I was ready and not ready at the same time, and I ached with wanting.

  I hated myself for holding back. My heart urged me to take Larna in my arms and forget everything but her. Knowing that the decision was mine made me sick. Sometimes, I cried myself to sleep, hiding my face in my pillow so that Larna would not wake up and see. Just as often, I woke in the middle of the night, pulsing and close to release, with my hand clutching between my legs, waiting for my dark, handsome lover to make me hers while she slept on the other side of the room.

  …

  Part Two:

  As told by Cathelin Raybrook, recorded by Lady Eleanor of Baxstresse

  …

  Chapter One:

  The mess in Kalwyn’s house surprised me all over again on my next visit. She was standing in the same place where she waved goodbye to us a few days before. When she saw us, she said, “Ah, it is the new shaman and the young pup. Come in, but step careful. There are a few things on the floor.” ‘A few things’ was an understatement. Like last time, objects were piled and scattered around the room.

  When I found a safe place to stand, I said, “Good morning, teacher. Am I going to visit the spirit world today?” My excitement broke through in my voice, embarrassing me.

  Kalwyn smiled. Her face became a netted crosswork of brown wrinkles. In the center were her two black-button eyes. They glinted at me. “What did I say before? Yes, Acha, I will show if you will learn.”

  “I want to learn,” I said, sounding breathless.

  Larna squeezed my shoulder. “Of course you do.” She dropped a kiss on my head. My face went bright red and I knew that Kalwyn was watching. Larna and I shared simple touches, but neither of us knew what they meant. They just felt right. Our hugs, our small kisses, our linked hands… we were more than friends, but not quite lovers. We hung somewhere in between.

  “Is there any heavy work for me, wise one?” Larna asked. “I am wanting something to do while you teach. Learning magic is for Ariada.”

  Kalwyn thought for a moment. “The roof is needing repairs. But I only be letting you fix it to keep you out of trouble! I am not too old for work.”

  “Of course not,” Larna said soothingly. I felt the vibration of her voice against my side. “But too old for climbing about on roofs, to be sure.”

  Kalwyn went to show Larna where the damage was, and where to find her supplies. They left me alone in the cluttered house, looking around curiously. The first thing my eyes settled on was an hourglass. A long golden rope snaked around its glass body. Perched on top of the hourglass, a miniature golden dragon curled back, its wings stretching out. I realized that the golden rope was the dragon’s tail. All of the sand was in the bottom half of the hourglass.

  “Ah,” said Kalwyn’s voice behind me, “you found that, have you?” I jumped back, clutching my hand to my chest. My heartbeat seemed unnaturally loud.

  “I was just looking at the hourglass,” I explained.

  “That is a very special hourglass.” Kalwyn picked it up, turning it on its side. The grains of sand inside it did not move. When she flipped it upside down, they did not run back towards the top. I stared at it, confused. “My mother gave it to me, and her mother gave it to her.”

  “How much time does it measure?” I asked.

  “It does not measure time. It knows when the dragons be returning.”

  Kalwyn set the hourglass back in its place. I reached out to touch it. She did not stop me. It felt warm in my hands. I picked it up. No matter which way I turned the hourglass, the sand did not leave the bottom half. “I thought all of the dragons were gone.”

  “Not gone, just sleeping,” said Kalwyn. “When it is time, the sand in the hourglass will be flowing up to the top.”

  “How soon?” I asked.

  Kalwyn shook her old head. “I dinna have numbers, young shaman. Now
, we are using the Deadeye.” With her dark green folds flapping, Kalwyn shuffled over to a chest of drawers. She began rummaging around. I tried not to stare. After a lot of muttering, she pulled something out, holding her fist up. “Aah, here!”

  In her hand was a glossy black stone. It was a round oval, about the size of an egg, but flat. There was a hole through the center. Kalwyn peered through the hole. I could see her tiny black eye glinting through the empty space. She was looking at me, but did not seem to see me. She took the stone from her eye and held it out to me in her palm.

  “The Deadeye is a charm. Dinna be looking through it yet,” she scolded as I held it up to my eye. I lowered my hand and clutched it in my palm. The stone hummed with energy. It was warm against my skin, like the hourglass. Did all magical objects feel like this?

  “There be many ways of talking to the spirits,” Kalwyn went on. “Most of them do not use voices. They are sending you feelings.”

  “What is a spirit?” I asked. “Do we turn into ghosts after death?” I did not like the idea of lingering in the Forest of Amendyr for eternity. Perhaps it was foolish, but I had always pictured myself in Heaven.

  “Only the Maker is knowing what happens to the soul after death. A Spirit is only magical energy left behind when a person passes.”

  I tested the weight of the Deadeye in my palm. It was lighter than it looked. As I squeezed, the surface became warmer. The stone pulsed in my hand. “It feels like it’s moving…” I whispered, amazed.

  “Lift it. See.” I obeyed and lifted the black stone to my right eye.

  Thousands of shimmering shapes flickered along the walls, under the chairs, around my legs. They were everywhere, like white water, faintly glowing. Some were just tiny dots in the air, floating alone. Some formed faces and the shapes of bending arms. Two or three looked like full people with clothes, moving around.

  “The stronger the magic was in life, the more is being left behind,” Kalwyn explained. “Powerful Ariada can gather their energy into shapes, even bodies. Weaker energies are only that – energy.”

  I watched, fascinated. “Do they remember who they were?”

  “In a way.”

  “I want to talk to them,” I said, still peering through the Deadeye. The small sparks of light seemed to feel me watching. They swirled around my legs and arms and I felt warmth and light crawl over my skin. I was filled with energy. It was not frightening or unpleasant.

  “Not yet,” Kalwyn clucked. “Give me the stone, girl.”

  Reluctantly, I lowered the stone. My skin was still warm as I placed the Deadeye back in Kalwyn’s twisted old hand. She tucked it in her robes. “It is important to know where your power comes from as a Shaman. Someday, your energy will be added to what you saw.”

  Perhaps this was true, I thought, but I knew where my soul would be. Whether I traveled to heaven, hell, or was reborn in some great circle, my half-soul would always find Larna’s again.

  “Now, we will be singing.”

  My heartbeat hammered faster. Singing? In front of someone else? I could carry a tune, but the thought of anyone hearing my voice made me nervous. “I have to sing?” I asked, shifting my feet uncomfortably.

  “You grew up in Amendyr. Sing the Winter song.”

  A song I knew! That made me feel a little braver. All Amendyri children learned the old songs growing up, but I still did not want to sing.

  “It is not Winter yet,” I protested weakly.

  Kalwyn whacked my arm. I gripped it sulkily. “Sing!” she said. So I sang.

  The high wind blows down from the mountains

  The tall cliffs climb out of the sea

  The sharp wind blows up from the ocean

  Come sit by my fire with me

  The cold wind blows over the moorland

  A white blanket covers the Sweep

  The stars in the sky have grown dimmer

  So rest in my arms now and sleep

  “You,” Kalwyn declared, “are a baby! Afraid of a song…” she rolled her eyes. It was not as nice as a ‘good job’, but it did make me smile. “Now, I will be teaching you tone sets. Sing after me.”

  After that, we did not sing words. Instead, I learned patterns, combinations of notes that would draw magic closer to me. They started simply. Each pattern only had three or four notes. Then the range got bigger.

  Kalwyn made me hold the Deadeye and watch while she sang. The white sparks of magical energy gathered around her in a swirling, humming cloud. She sang a mournful half-step, and one of the human shapes came and took her hand. I wondered if she could feel its fingers lacing with hers.

  “So, you will practice?” Kalwyn asked suspiciously. She could read my mind. I did not want to practice where other people could hear me, especially Larna.

  “Yes,” I sighed. I resigned myself to my fate. “I will practice.”

  “Good. Next, I will teach you dances.”

  I almost fell over.

  …

  The leaves were tinged with red the next morning when I stepped outside. Winter was coming after all. The scent of pine and woodsmoke were strong in my nose. Even though I could feel autumn in the trees, I was only a little cold. Maybe my new Wyr blood kept me warm. It did many other remarkable things.

  Larna was inside of our hut, sleeping. I let her rest, hoping that some distance would make me want her a little less. My hair tickled my neck as the wind blew it over my shoulders. The trunks of the forest trees blocked the worst of the gusts. I walked along the border of camp, not heading anywhere. I just wanted to be outside, where I could think.

  A twig cracked behind me and I glanced over my shoulder. I saw nothing. Lifting my nose, I tried smelling instead. The scent of Wyr was nearby, but that was not unusual. I was still near camp.

  I had only taken six steps when I heard the sound again. This time, I knew someone was following me. I thought of turning around and returning to my hut, but whatever was stalking me stood in the way. “Come out,” I said, my voice shaking.

  I stepped back when Hosta emerged from behind a tree. He was in his human form, but seeing him made me feel uneasy. “Did I frighten you?” he asked smoothly, as though concerned. But there was something hostile in his black eyes.

  I avoided the question. “I was not expecting you.”

  He took another step closer. I held my ground, refusing to let him back me farther into the woods. “I saw you walking alone. I wanted to make sure that you were all right.”

  Goosebumps rose over my skin, but I was not cold. I recognized the emotions on Hosta’s face. Dislike, brewing anger, and lust. It reminded me of Luciana and I felt sick. My chest tightened, making it hard to breathe.

  “Do you need a coat?” Hosta offered, reaching to take off his.

  “No,” I shook my head, “thank you.” He reached out, perhaps to say something more, but I hurried past him, walking quickly back the way I had come.

  I was so distracted that I slammed right in to something solid and warm. My legs buckled and I fell backwards onto the grass. My heartbeat slowed down when I saw Yerta’s concerned face peering down at me. It surprised me that he could look so different from his brother, even though their features were similar. Maybe it was their expressions.

  He reached down to help me up. I bent to brush myself off. “Did I frighten you?” The words startled me. That was exactly what Hosta had asked.

  “No,” I said. My voice was small. “I was… looking for Larna.” Suddenly, I did want to find Larna. I needed her warm smell, her comfort.

  “I have not seen her. I thought you were staying with her.”

  “I am. I apologize for running in to you. It was my fault.”

  Yerta smiled. “Pretty girls running in to me every day? I should be so lucky.”

  I started walking backward. He had embarrassed me, but I was not frightened. “Cate,” Yerta called after me. “Have you seen my brother?” I pointed into the trees. Yerta headed in that direction, waving a hand to thank me. />
  I had a few moments to examine my feelings on the walk back to Larna’s hut. Yerta and Hosta looked similar. They even said many of the same things. Why did Hosta frighten me so badly? Why did Yerta seem so kind? My thoughts were jumbled. Running in to Hosta had brought back unpleasant memories. I had flinched when he took off his coat. It reminded me of Luciana undressing.

  “You are a fool,” I said to myself. My breath hung in the air, a silver cloud. It was colder than I thought. Stiffly, my fingers opened the door to the small cabin that had become my home. Larna was sitting up in bed, waiting for me.

  “Cate?” she asked, immediately standing and walking to meet me.

  “I am fine,” I tried to protest. Two strong arms pulled me against a warm chest. Some of the ice thawed from around my heart. For now, I was all right.

  “Did something happen?”

  “Nothing that matters. I – someone startled me outside. It reminded me of a bad time in the past.”

  Gently, Larna pushed me away from her. I was sad, until I realized that she had done it so that she could see my face. Her brown eyes were soft and warm. I lost myself in them.

  “Will you tell me about it?” When I did not offer an answer, she added, “when you feel ready?”

  I was grateful that Larna did not push me. “Yes. When I am ready.”

  …

  Chapter Two:

  “Tell me the card,” said Kalwyn. She had a deck of picture-cards that we were practicing with. It seemed like a silly child’s game, but telling her what picture was on the card took concentration and effort.

  I looked through my Other eye. The Deadeye was a shortcut, a link between two planes, but if I concentrated hard enough, I could see the white sparks of magic around me without it. They gathered at my fingers and around my eyes and mouth. I thought I saw the ghostly form of a man standing by Kalwyn’s chair. It was an Imprint of someone who had lived here long ago. I had seen him twice before.

  The man smiled and made wavy lines with his fingers. He began to fade. The sparks against my skin hummed. My mouth twitched into a smile as well. “Ocean,” I said.