The little bird again opened its beak as if to sing and then flew upward to land on the narrow door lentil, as if it meant to take its rest while Briok was inside.
Briok flew slowly down through the narrow opening; he felt the strain of the Rowan’s barrier pressing against his body. It was clear to Briok that the Rowan allowed few to enter this way and he understood the door was well guarded by the Rowan’s sacred magic. He was suddenly very glad the sacred tree had remembered to open the way for him. He didn’t want to find out what would have happened to him if he continued to push against the barrier if the way hadn’t been opened. The thought sent a shiver down his spine.
Once inside Briok could see the crystals set tightly within the walls of the narrow hallway. The stones let off a surreal glow, and though he came to this cavern every day, he was not immune to the beauty of the shifting light. His wings carried him cautiously forward between the stalagmites; he continued along the twisting trail that came to an abrupt end on the sandy beach near the spring’s source. Quickly Briok landed and removed the container from his waist belt and pulled the stopper before he leaned down and let the water flow into the container. All around him he could hear the water laughing and singing a little song, he wondered if the girl’s arrival had anything to do with it. He had never heard the water singing before, or he wondered if maybe he just hadn’t understood it before. Perhaps it was left over from speaking with the Rowan. Briok shook his head and sighed as he bent low and reached out into the pool of healing waters. He liked to dip out of the sandy side of the pool where he could rest on his knees amongst the small flowers that grew around the water’s edge. Briok relaxed a moment enjoying his newly acquired ability to hear the water. As usual he was taken with the beauty of the lights as they played across the lake’s surface. Breathing in the air of the cavern, he felt somewhat refreshed. From where he sat by the water’s edge, he could see himself reflected in the underground lake’s surface. His face looked calm, but he knew better. He was nervous and afraid. Just as he reached out to run his fingers across the water, Briok heard a ker-plop, he swung his head around and there stood a member of the stone tribe from the council of elders.
“Hello lad,” the stone’s craggy voice called out. “More water today, that’s a bit unusual isn’t it,” he asked, as he advanced slowly on his squat legs?
Briok stared at the stone man a long moment, as his mind went blank with fear. “The Rowan is making an experiment,” he finally mumbled.
“Ah I see,” the stone man said slowly rubbing his rough hands together. “By the way I was out enjoying the light this morning, and I thought I saw you flying away from the journeying cave. That was you wasn’t it Briok?”
“What, er,” Briok stood up slowly and corked the bottle. He felt his face growing hot, ‘think, he had to think.’ He couldn’t lie because the stone clan all had perfect perception. It was said, the stone people could hear a lie almost before it was spoken, and he had to be careful to not give anything away either. Stone magic was strong and this stone elder was known for his heavy handed ways. “Yes elder I was there; it’s been such a long time since I’ve seen the cavern. I felt like seeing it this morning. Now if you will pardon me I need to see to my chores.” Briok bent quickly at the waist giving the elder a hurried bow, and lifting off, flew back the way he had come as fast as his wings could carry him. He dared not give the elder a chance to question him further.
Outside the spirit bird still sat on the lintel. Seeing Briok it rose up in the air, and flew in small tight circles around and around Briok’s head. Briok couldn’t help but laugh, clearly the bird was delighted to have Briok return. Then it turned away and flew off down the long dark corridor, ready to guide Briok to the journeying cavern. The rest of the journey proved to be uneventful. Briok followed the little spirit bird as it flew between the great pillars, and on through the deepening darkness until the bird at last slowed at the smallest of doors. The spirit bird carefully straddled the stone lintel, and lifted his beak once again, as if in song.
“You must have been a glorious singer, I’m sorry you aren’t able to sing any longer. I thank you for your skills in guiding me true,” Briok said, bowing low to the spirit bird.
The small bird flitted across to sit on the lid of the water jug.
“Say, that’s an idea. Would the water help do you think?”
The small spirit bird body lifted up as if riding upward on an invisible wind. It then opened its transparent wings and floated gently down to settle itself once again on the bottle’s cork.
“For your kindness to me, come and let me pour out a little water onto your beak, perhaps it will give you your voice once again.”
The small bird rose up and flew like a fast moving beacon, circling the room around and around, its body whirring about the space as fast as it could fly. Finally it slowed down it and came to rest on the door lentil again.
Briok laughed, “Good thing you didn’t fly that fast today, I would have been left far behind. Please come and sit upon my hand so that I might direct the water more easily.”
The bird flitted over and came to rest not on Briok’s hand, but instead on the sand in front of Briok.
“Suit yourself,” Briok said, shrugging. He knelt in the sand before the bird. Easing the cork out he raised the bottle slowly, and tipped out a small amount of the water. Briok watched the droplets fall on the spirit bird’s transparent beak. The bird opened his beak and several drops splashed inside the spirit bird’s mouth as well.
Then Briok heard a great rumbling, the small bird began shifting about, its tiny body shook and its wings began to shiver fiercely.
Briok had only wanted to help the bird to sing. Instead he watched in horror, as the small ghost bird dropped over onto the sandy floor, its tiny body caught in the violent thrashing. Though the tiny swallow was already spirit, Briok feared it would come to harm. He wrung his hands and desperately tried to recall anything that might help save the small creature. Briok heard the sound of great thrumming coming as if from far off, this was followed by a great rumbling that seemed to come from deep within the cavern itself, and then just as suddenly as it had begun, it was over and the tiny bird lay very still in the sand.
Briok reached out to touch the ghost bird’s body just as the bird gave off a loud shriek, and its tiny body cracked open along its breast bone. A heavy mist began to roll up from the floor, and it covered the poor creature, completely hiding the bird’s broken carcass from Briok’s view.
Briok, who had fallen backward at the shriek, lay shaking with fear, to the very core of his being. So bad was his fear even his wings would not lift him away from the danger. Held captive as he was by his fear, he could only lie on the sand and watch as the mist continued to roll up and around the bird. Unable to escape or take his eyes off the unfurling mist, Briok recognized a moment when the mist seemed to reverse itself and began to dissipate. Where the tiny swallow had lain, Briok now saw a body of a great bird. He couldn’t believe his eyes, it was if the gigantic bird was, in fact, still growing. Looking about the cavern, Briok realized that soon the bird would not fit within the Rowan’s great walls. He watched mesmerized as the bird began to mature at an impossible rate, its plumage filled in, even as its wings grew to fit its body’s proportion and he then he saw a cockscomb of vivid iridescent green filling out on its carapace. Briok could not believe his eyes, the tiny spirit bird had transmuted, and it was being reborn into the fabled Netxl bird. The plumage changed rapidly, from dull brown to magnificent iridescent blues and purples, which flashed brilliantly, on the body of the great bird, and then it lifted its beak and began to sing the sacred song of life. The clear crisp notes fell upon Briok’s ears; the music itself was a healing balm. Briok felt his body release the fear he had so tightly gripped only moments before. Briok felt his shoulders relax and felt the fear deep within his body leaving. He continued listening to the beautiful music, and realized the exhaustion from all that had taken place on this day h
ad fallen away and he felt not just renewed, but full of deep sense of joy as well.
Briok who had only hoped to help the spirit bird regain his voice, had been completely unaware that the bird had been ready to be reborn into a Nextl bird, of the sacred well. The bird finished singing his song and rose up, shaking out its great cape of feathers. It towered high over Briok, for the Nextl is in fact the largest bird in any of the magical kingdoms, large enough to carry a whole kingdom on its great iridescent back. He remembered that his father had said the Nextl was the only creature who could fly in time and space. He didn’t understand what that even meant. Briok couldn’t even understand how the bird could fit in the room, but he knew the bird had the strongest magic. The bird must be able to bend space and time as well. It was the only way it made any sense that he could be standing here now, in what was too small of a space for the bird, though the hall was large enough to hold all the tribes of the Realm.
The bird leaned his great body down and ever so gently laid his huge beak alongside Briok. Briok lay trembling in both fear and wonder before the majestic creature. The bird crooned tenderly, as it touched its beak to Briok, and then the Nextl turned away. It snapped open its great wings and rose up and without a further look backwards, flew quickly into the darkness of the great chamber of time.
Briok, his heart beating wildly lay in the sand along while, mesmerized as he was by the sight of the Nextl. None had been seen for many eons in the realm, there had only been half a dozen births in all the history of the Realm. Briok had heard stories, told by the elders around the great fires, and his father had studied the history of the great birds with the Rowan and had shared some of that knowledge with him. He knew they always came upon the eve of great change, still it was considered a blessing to have one reborn, and to witness it was considered a great honor. He wanted to fly and tell the Rowan or even the elder down by the spring? Laughter bubbled up from deep inside himself and he did not try to stop it as his joy spilled out. He had been present at the birth of a greatest magical being in all of the realm! Briok laughed, and laughed, till tears of joy ran down his face.
Briok at last lay exhausted, and was finally able to regain control of his emotions, though the bliss of the occasion still warmed his heart deeply. He needed to finish his delivery of the water before he would let himself fly home and share the news of the Nextl with his father.
Dusting himself off, Briok picked up the water vessel, his hands still shaking as he carried the water before him to the entrance and crouching low he crawled through the doorway slowly. So low was the doorway, Briok found he could not hold the water vessel and crawl through at the same time. Instead he had to reach out placing the water ahead of himself and then crawl forward toward it, and then repeat the process over and over again till he was through the low tunnel like entrance. He reached the cavern side of the tunnel and stood up. He looked about and realized he was standing in the deepest part of the journeying cavern. Here crystal stalagmites stood tightly packed in; it was clear there was no room for open wings. Briok stepped gingerly through the rough garden of stalagmites, careful to keep his wings tucked up tight against his body. It would not due to brush up against and awaken these old stones; they could be a cantankerous lot and might try to send him somewhere he did not at this time wish to go. He had heard stories that they had been known to grow angry, and use their crystalline bodies to slash wings to ribbons. Slipping carefully between the sleeping stones he made his way to the open part of the cavern.
Briok stopped near the edge of the field of stalagmites, from there he could see Gwenth laying across the room, asleep on the sandy floor, around her the cavern walls pulsed and glowed. He could make out a low humming noise that he found soothing. The sound came from the crystalline walls. Perhaps it was a healing for the girl, even from across the cavern she looked worn out. Briok flew near her and the wall nearest briefly flared up. Briok sat the water container near the sleeping girl. His mind reeled with the events of the day. He flitted over to the cavern entrance and leapt out into the air. His only thought was to take his tired body home, and discuss all that had transpired, with his parents.
Of Fears and Gods
“God, woman, can’t you see she is sick, maybe even dying,” James yelled! “Either we need to get a doctor up here, or I should take her to town.” James having slept very little for the last week looked wildly about the cottage. His fear was palpable to Meredith, and like a caged animal, he had spent all of his waking hours wearing away the floor in front of the girl’s door.
“What, now you think my skills as a healer aren’t enough? She might heal better if you would stop stomping all about the house.” Meredith reached out taking James hand, as he passed by, on his way to check on Gwenth again. “I know why you are afraid, but you must understand husband your fear doesn’t help her, please come and eat some soup and afterward, go out and care for the sheep. When she wakes, we will need all that they can offer to build up her strength,” her tender voice pleaded, with him.
James’ fevered mind cleared for a moment, and finally seeing Meredith’s own exhaustion, he went quietly to the table and sat down. He looked away while she served him, and then mechanically forced himself to lift the spoon to his mouth. The soup was good, and hot, and the herbs Meredith had added began to work on James’ fear. He had not realized how little he had eaten lately and as he sat spooning in the warm soup he focused in on his lovely wife, sitting across the table. There were new lines around her eyes. “You must eat more too,” he said fumbling, as he rose to bring her a bowl of the warm mutton stew. James sat the steaming bowl on the table before her, and grabbing his own dish he sat down at the seat nearer her.
Meredith watched in relief as the food brought her beloved husband back from the place of deep fear. She gratefully lifted her spoon to her mouth as well and gave thanks as she chewed the hearty stew.
“I’m sorry,” he said, as he laid the spoon in the empty bowl. “I only know I would go mad if I lose her too.” James reached across the table and took Meredith’s hand into his own.
She looked into his face and saw the buried sorrow. His eyes were bright with unshed tears, and she began to understand how deeply he loved. Meredith caught her breath, as she wondered, if this was to be how deeply he would come to love her. She felt the tears fill her own eyes, “Darling, I can imagine how frightening her illness is, but my people raise some of the wisest medicine people in all the land. I promise you I will not lose her,” she said reaching out to stroke his face.
James looked at his beautiful wife, he saw in her black pupils a deep knowing, and he saw her great love for him welling up. “I don’t know where this comes from, but I’m sure somehow you are right,” he sighed as he pushed back his chair and rose. James ran his fingers through his black locks, making the hair even more unruly. “I’m going out, and staying out all day. The sheep need to get out of the paddock.”
Meredith rose, and walked around the table. She let herself be taken into his arms and kissed deeply. “I packed you a meal.”
James picked up the food wrapped in waxed cloth and hurriedly shoved the food into his coat pocket. Walking to the door he stepped out, and quickly pulled it shut behind him.
“That is one stubborn man.”
Meredith turned and there seated at the worn wooden table were her two sisters, each holding a bowl full of the mutton stew. “Didn’t you think you should at least wait till he is gone with the sheep?”
“Nah, we can see he is very determined, and will not come back no matter what.”
“Sister, this is exquisite, and I don’t even taste any magic,” Reval said, greedily slurping up the soup.
“Well that is because, I cooked it myself. There is no magic.”
“But how could you cook so well. You never had that skill before?”
“I don’t really know I just assumed cooking was easier than it looked.”
“Sister, father made us come you know. He says there is more
going on here than meets the proverbial human eye,” Hectain said laughing.
“Oh you made a funny sister,” Reval said her high voice, tinkling with laughter.
“Father says that you are pregnant by the human and...”
Meredith cut Hectain off. “What? Pregnant by a human, now that surely would be a miracle. Are we to believe now in the human’s God? Do you think he has interceded somehow,” she asked, laughing?
Reval and Hectain sat staring at their youngest sister as she laughed.
“Sister, how is it you don’t know that you’re pregnant?”
“Why are you carrying on this farce, Hectain? I assure you if I were pregnant I would know,” Meredith said, reaching for the dishes covering the table.
Reval and Hectain looked across the wooden table at one another.
Reval cleared her throat. “Sister did you know there is an old magic, much older than our own which is so different than our own, we often can’t see it clearly. I think that old magic is somehow, somewhere in this house, and I think we need to look for it.”
Meredith sat the stack of dirty bowls back down on the tabletop and looked keenly from Hectain to Reval’s face. “You’re serious then?”
REALM'S END (BOOK OF FEY 1) Page 7