"We're not certain how, but Enoch took control of his bodily functions. He stopped the bleeding and, afterward, found it easier to continue healing himself. He communicated directly with his formerly subconscious mind, which then became his alter-consciousness. He learned exactly what his body needed to repair itself, and working in concert with his alter-consciousness, he made himself anew," she continued.
"Enoch was so excited about his discovery that he explored ways to pass along his ability to his countrymen. Most could not duplicate the feat; only two others managed to break down their barriers with his guidance and assistance. Discouraged by his failures, he roamed the battlefields, searching for those mortally wounded, and his success rate increased dramatically. Word of his exploits spread, and his appearance on the battlefield drove men to discard their fear. They fought with wild abandon, winning many victories, and Enoch passed his ability to many dying men. But he could not bring back the dead, and hundreds died despite his efforts.
"Within a decade, almost every Varic man still alive had gained the ability to heal themselves. The Varics were not far from conquering the Zjhon, and the Elsics believed they would be next, but that is another story. The Varic nation began to thrive again with the aid of Enoch's imparted healing powers. There were times, it was said, that every Varic woman alive was pregnant. But the next generation of Varics proved to have very little aptitude with the power of Istra, and almost none attained healing powers.
"The passing of traits from one generation to the next is a mysterious process, and it was not until the grandchildren of Enoch's generation were born that the unexpected aftereffects manifested. The second generation since the time of Enoch's discovery was decimated; most did not live past birth. Of those that survived birth, the majority died soon after. They would simply fall asleep and never wake. Enoch watched in horror as his nation's death knell rung, and it was far too late to effect any change.
"By this time, many of the first generation of healers had gone to their graves from either old age or deadly wounds they were unable to heal. Despite the ability to heal themselves, they were unable to heal others. If a self-healer took a wound that rendered them unconscious, they usually perished. Enoch saw the healers dwindling in number and waited in horror for his own grandchild to be born.
"Determined to save the life of his grandchild, even at the cost of his own, he assembled everyone adept with Istra's power and gathered them around his son's wife, Alia, to await the birth. Alia's labors produced a baby boy in apparent good health, but Enoch knew his grandchild would most likely die if he ever fell asleep. He used every conceivable technique to keep the infant from sleep, but it soon became apparent the child would eventually succumb to exhaustion.
"Driven by desperation, he used his powers to reach into the infant's mind and establish a mental link. He smashed the feeble barriers of the impressionable mind and used his alter-consciousness to supplant that of the child. In this way, Enoch was able to control the child's breathing and other body functions, keeping him alive. He hoped to break the link once the child grew stronger, but it was not to be. The boy, Ain, was wholly dependent on Enoch for the maintenance of his bodily functions. The two had to remain together always and could not even go into separate rooms without both becoming violently ill.
"Legends say other Sleepless Ones survived, but those instances were rare. The stories of Enoch and Ain say that, together, they were able to stall the aging process and gain longevity. It was said they committed themselves to preventing the same thing from happening during the next Istran phase, but then the madness set in. Both Enoch and Ain were faced with situations no other mortal would encounter, and their beliefs crumbled around them. The ancient writings say they went mad, but I often wonder if they actually entered a new reality. Either way, they disappeared from the writings of men. I've told this tale so you will clearly understand the gravity of the situation and the seriousness of my warning. Do not try to heal yourself," Sister Velona concluded.
Catrin needed a moment to absorb and store all the details; then she nodded and thanked Sister Velona. "If the Herald prophecy is false, then perhaps I should just go home. I don't need magic or power in my life, and I can just go back to being normal."
"I'm sorry, dear. This has gone too far for you to disappear now. Too many people are focused on finding you and destroying you. Your only choice in this matter is to fight or die. There will be no going back to normal."
Despair was starting to settle on Catrin when Mother Gwendolin interrupted her thoughts. "Perhaps this would be a good time for you to tell us a bit more of your story. It may answer some of our questions and raise new ones in your mind. I know it may be painful, but would you tell us of your mother and the circumstances of her death?"
Catrin did not object to telling what she knew; the pain was old and did not cut as deeply as it once had. She told them of the days preceding her mother's death, or at least what she knew of them. She did not remember much of the events herself, but she remembered very clearly the things she had overheard when she was older--things not intended for her ears. She told of her mother and aunt going to market to get the ingredients for a special meal. Catrin did not know what they had been celebrating. Whatever it was, it no longer mattered.
She told of the glorious meal, some of which she remembered for herself. She recalled how excited her mother had been to let her try a sweet bun, but Catrin had not liked the taste and spat out the only bite she took. She remembered everyone else laughing while they enjoyed their buns; it was a memory that still stung, which surprised Catrin.
When she began to describe the symptoms her aunt and mother developed, Mother Gwendolin went pale and sat with her hand over her mouth, but she let Catrin finish her description. By the time Catrin finished telling the details she had overheard from her father and Benjin over the years, Mother Gwendolin had tears in her eyes and she looked as if she would be ill. The usually serene woman appeared absolutely stricken, and she let out an awful wail. Catrin watched in confusion as she writhed in anguish.
"Oh, Catrin," she sobbed, pounding the soil with her fists. "I'm sorry. I'm so very sorry. I could have saved them; I should have. How could I have been so selfish and blind?"
CHAPTER TWELVE
In the days beyond her coming, echoes of the past shall peal like thunder.
--Prophet Herodamus as translated by Brother Jamison, Cathuran monk
* * *
"This challenge will be extra difficult," Benjin said. "I told the merchants you would be coming, and I purchased the goods you are going to steal. The purpose is to test your ability to move with stealth. If any of the merchants see you take anything, then I will lose my wager with them. You don't want me to lose my wager, do you?"
"I wouldn't bet on it," Chase said, looking over the list: One red pepper, one loaf of apple bread, and three balls of netted cheese. "No problem. I'll be back soon."
"Good luck," Benjin said.
Though he didn't need stealth to approach the market, Chase kept himself hidden and watched what everyone around was doing. When he saw the vegetable vendor, he settled in for a good look. The vendor was a young man who seemed to be looking everywhere at once. He stood right behind the display of red peppers, ready to fend off a would-be thief.
For a while, Chase just watched. Then he saw an opportunity. Two beautiful girls were walking toward the shop. When the vendor's head was turned, Chase darted across the narrow street and approached from the opposite direction as the girls.
"Good day, ladies," the man said, and that was all the time Chase needed. Quickly and quietly, he reached out and grabbed a single red pepper. When the vendor looked back, Chase was already seeking the next item on his list.
While hiding in a darkened alley, he spotted a young boy playing with a ball and stick. "Ho there, young man," Chase said. "I'll give you a copper to ask the baker a bunch of questions."
"I can do that."
Chase smiled, handed the boy
a copper, and slid into the shadows, one step closer to his loaf of apple bread.
* * *
Confused, Catrin moved to Mother Gwendolin's side and tried to console her. From the looks the other monks were exchanging, they were as confused as she was. Mother Gwendolin took several deep breaths and gradually regained her composure. A young monk approached with jars of water, and Mother Gwendolin drank deeply when Catrin offered one to her. Catrin could barely stand the suspense, but she respected Mother Gwendolin and gave her time to calm herself.
"I'm sorry, Catrin," Mother Gwendolin said after another deep breath. "Your mother and aunt were poisoned. They were given a deadly overdose of mother's root, and I believe you were also a target, for mother's root only affects females."
Catrin was stunned. Her father and Benjin had always believed there had been some sort of foul deed involved with her mother's and aunt's deaths, but it had never felt real to Catrin. Now that Mother Gwendolin confirmed their suspicions, Catrin felt a deep, burning anger rise from the depths of her being. She had suppressed it for so long, uncertain it was warranted, but now the justification existed. She balled her hands into fists and wished she had something to punch, wanting very much to vent the searing fury before it consumed her.
"I wasn't certain at first," Mother Gwendolin said, breaking the heavy silence, "but you described every symptom of a mother's root overdose, and the sweet buns would have made a perfect vessel. Mother's root has a sickeningly sweet taste that could be masked with honey or sugar and become almost undetectable. Had you eaten your sweet bun, you would most likely be dead. And were it not for my envy, your mother and aunt would most likely be alive." Catrin was taken aback by the admission and waited silently for an explanation.
"When I met Benjin, he was trying to make his way back to Endland after parting company with your mother and father. He was so handsome, honorable, and in so much pain. I was drawn to him, and I admit I fell in love with him," she continued, looking embarrassed. "Benjin was smitten with your mother, and his heart was broken, but I didn't see it--didn't want to see it. I convinced myself he would fall in love with me and we would be happy together. We both had a love for herb lore, and we spent days discussing various rare plants and roots, but he did not fall in love with me. He didn't even seem to see me as a woman. I was jealous and hurt, which made me most uncharitable.
"During our last days together, Benjin asked me to help him transcribe my notes on several rare herbs of which he had no previous knowledge. I remember it clearly, though I wish I didn't. I was angry and didn't want to help him. I copied the section on mother's root, and I remember omitting the information on the effects of an overdose simply because I didn't feel like doing it. I included the information that warned against overdoses and left it at that. Now I see how high the price of my envy was. I would change it all if I could. I'm so sorry."
Catrin tried to find words to absolve Mother Gwendolin of guilt, but she found none. Instead, she gave her a hug, and they cried together for a while. Mother Gwendolin regained her composure and seemed to realize it was pointless to torture herself.
"I will send Benjin an invitation to meet with us this evening. There is nothing we can do about it now, but he deserves to know the truth," she said.
At that same moment, another young monk approached. "Many pardons, Mother, but Brother Vaughn asked me to come right away if any birds returned. These just came in from Drascha Stone," he said, bowing, and he presented several small, rolled pieces of parchment. She received them with a sad smile, her cheeks still shining with tears.
While Mother Gwendolin read, Brother Vaughn proudly explained their system of using pigeons to send messages between holds. He said several monks from each hold would travel to the other holds during the warm months, and they would carry many birds with them. The birds could then be released at any time to carry messages quickly back to their home hold. It was not a perfect system, he said, and messages were often lost. Important messages were sent with multiple birds, and any urgent messages received by one hold were forwarded to every other hold upon receipt. This, he said, helped to ensure that no Cathuran stronghold would ever be completely isolated from the others.
Mother Gwendolin looked up from the messages and handed one to Brother Vaughn. "I think this will be of most interest to you. It would appear a landslide in southern Faulk has uncovered the skeletal remains of a giant winged beast. The message indicates the beast would have been larger than a warship--incredible," she said. "There is also word of Zjhon troop movements. Several large detachments are converging near the northern tip of the Inland Sea in Lankland. I suspect they will be bound for Ohmahold by the spring melt. It would appear the Zjhon have reason to believe Catrin is here."
The news gave Catrin a cold feeling in her stomach. Now Ohmahold would be subjected to a siege simply because she was there, much as the Godfist suffered because of her. She tried not to castigate herself, knowing, deep in her heart, it was not her fault, but that failed to lessen her anguish. It was difficult to sit near Brother Vaughn, who could barely contain his excitement. The discovery of the winged beast clearly had his imagination running wild, and she tried to draw from his enthusiasm rather than dampen it with her melodrama.
"Do not be overly concerned," Mother Gwendolin said, sensing her thoughts. "Ohmahold is well defended and well provisioned. We can be completely self-sufficient in the event of a siege, and the Zjhon will have to battle the Wastes. When they launched their attack on the Godfist, they sent nearly two-thirds of their strength, and now they are left with insufficient troops to hold lands only recently conquered. I'm told the armies are now conscripting young women into service. These nations have already lost most of their working-age men, and now the Zjhon are sapping them of young women as well. The rural farmers have been the hardest hit. The Zjhon come unexpectedly, and the farmers have been ill prepared to defend themselves. The Zjhon take their young folk and livestock, and they make notes of any small children, so they can return for them later.
"In the meantime, the elderly and the very young are left with all of the work of growing food and caring for what remains of their livestock. The Greatland is on the cusp of famine and a full-scale revolution. I fear there are dark days ahead of us, and there is little we can do to stop it."
"I must accept the things I cannot change and focus on what I can do, I suppose," Catrin said, trying to find some escape from the futility. She glanced at Sister Hanna, who had not said a word since their introduction. "Sister Hanna, perhaps there is something you can help me with. I've been trying to translate a phrase from High Script. Do you know what Om'Sa means?" she asked.
Sister Hanna appeared impressed that Catrin would attempt to translate High Script. "I've seen that phrase only once in all my studies, and that was in one of the oldest texts we have. High Script evolved over the centuries, and the earliest versions are the most difficult to translate. From the context in which I saw the phrase, I interpreted it to mean departure or exodus of the first men. I cannot be certain my translation is correct, for phrases in early High Script can have many meanings, depending on the order of the words and their context, which makes the translation more art than science. In what context, may I ask, did you see this phrase?"
"Om'Sa is the name of a book that was given to me. It's very old, and I could not translate much of it. It's in my room at the First Inn, perhaps we could ask Benjin to bring it with him this evening," Catrin said, and Sister Hanna seemed genuinely excited about the prospect.
Mother Gwendolin added the request to her missive and sent the young monk to deliver the message.
"I know this has been a trying day for you, Catrin, and for me as well, but I sense events are beginning to accelerate. I'm sorry to bring this up, but I think it will be important for you to understand the nature and properties of noonstone," Mother Gwendolin said, and Catrin wondered what noonstone was.
"From what we know, the fish figurine you found, Imeteri's Fish, was carved
from noonstone. Noonstone is very rare, and as you found, it can be used to store a finite amount of Istra's energy. In truth, noonstones are actually crystals that only form under the most rare circumstances. The old texts say they only form during the Istran noon, when thousands of comets can be seen in the skies at any given time. Even then, it is written that they only form under deep salt water and only when the wind is blowing east."
Catrin found it hard to imagine anything could be so rare, and again she felt the sting of having destroyed Imeteri's Fish. "How did the ancients find and retrieve the crystals if they were under deep water?"
"We don't know," Mother Gwendolin admitted. "While that remains a mystery, there are some things I do know. Noonstone is clear and shiny when it is fully charged, and it becomes chalky and porous when its store of energy has been depleted. When energy is drawn from the stone, it grows warm to the touch, and if you draw too much energy too fast, then it will get hot. If you continue to draw upon a depleted stone, it will eventually disintegrate, and the crumbled remains will no longer be viable. The stone will be destroyed."
Catrin nodded in acceptance. Much of what Mother Gwendolin said confirmed what she had deduced on her own--only too late. It was good to have the information confirmed, but Catrin doubted she would ever find another noonstone, which made the discussion seem pointless.
"What is Istra? Is she a goddess or a bunch of rocks in the sky?" Catrin asked, partially in an attempt to change the subject.
Mother Gwendolin laughed and shook her head. "You've a talent for asking questions that are nearly impossible to answer," she said. "Again, understand that this is my opinion. I believe the ancient peoples had no way to explain heavenly bodies, so they made up stories of gods and goddesses to define the unknown. Istra was their personification of the comet storm that lasted for over a hundred and fifty years. And comets are not big rocks in the sky; those are called asteroids. We believe comets are made of ice and they radiate their own energy. It is this energy you feel, much like you feel the warmth of the sun.
The Dragon Writers Collection Page 81