Fascinated, she moved at great speed until she seemed to hang among great suns, cool planets, gazing at them as if she, too, were a star, equal to those about her. As if carried along in some antique dance, she was moved among her companions, often swirling entirely around them before going forward to her next partner. Delight filled her, a sense of sureness she had not felt since she was a tiny child.
As she joined in the celestial ballet, she began to sense words, not quite hearing them, for she had no ears, but knowing their meaning. “You are a part of all this,” they assured her. “Never be afraid. So long as you are of good intent, there is no need for fear. Follow your truth, trust your instincts, and neither fear nor guilt may tarnish you.”
Then she was released from the dance, moving away from the clustered worlds and suns. She could see the shape of the universe spread all around her, an intricate filigree of brilliance. If she had possessed breath, it would have stopped in her throat. If she had still had a heart it might have halted its beating. Having neither, she simply observed, absorbed, as she spun like wool back onto the spindle of her world. When she opened her eyes again she lay before the hearth, and the coals had not yet lost their glow.
Ela drew her knees up against her chest, preserving the warmth that had blossomed inside her on her journey. The dream, if such it had been, offered no explanation of those stones and suggested no solution for her exploration of the question they posed. Yet she felt strangely satisfied with Atelle’s contribution. That spin among the stars had given her something real, though intangible.
* * * *
The winter was almost over, and Ela waited impatiently for spring to begin. The goats became anxious to browse on the young leaves. When that happened, she put on her rough smock and her shoulder-bag of bread and cheese, took up her staff, bade her parents and brother goodbye, and went to the goat pens. One by one she opened the gates, letting the flock of each family free to follow her.
Day by day spring advanced, with only a few late snow showers Ela grew even more impatient to climb farther up the slopes. Yet no one can hurry spring any more than she can hurry goats. She greeted the new growth each day, as the goats climbed the slopes, moving closer and closer to her goal at the top.
By June they had reached the huge beech, but Ela felt it was too soon to begin her investigations. First she must rethink her winter plans; here she must either discard them or put them into action. So she spent the first day lying under the beech, going over all the things she had thought while winter wore away. On the second day she warned her parents that she might spend the night on the Mountain. The goats would be safe there at this time of year, so they bade her goodbye cheerfully. They had, of course, no idea what she planned to do.
All the way up the height, she considered her plan. The tiny bit of herb she had saved, twisted into the parchment, might serve her well, when the time came to confront whatever she might find. Deciding when to venture into the angle between the stones was important, and to find that ideal moment she must use the last of the herb.
When the sun grew hot in the afternoon, the goats always gathered in the shade and napped, and when that happened, Ela did the same, though this time she chewed the last of the herb before closing her eyes. Strangely, once she began to drift into sleep she found herself rising to her feet. Then a glimmer began against the stone ahead of her. Guided by something outside herself, she moved toward the huddle of shapes, taking her place inside their angle to sit on the bare ground. Not until she was settled in her new location did she realize that her skin was crinkling with chill, though it had been too hot outside.
There was no sound. Even the whisper of breeze among the beech leaves had died to silence. Insects had lost their voices, and no hawk or falcon shrieked overhead. Such silence she had never known before, and she drew her knees up, waiting for what might come next. The light had dimmed, though the noon sun still burned the grasslands below. Yet inside that narrow space the night was coming. A last she sat in blackness, into which even the daylight did not intrude.
Then a glimmer began to glow against the stone. As she stared, the space seemed to grow larger, the light stronger. She could see that she was now enclosed in a sort of cave whose walls glowed with phosphorescence. There was a strong earthy smell that told her she was below-ground—had she fallen into that hole the ancient scholar had found? Even as she wondered, she began to see a shape formed by the glimmer, a very old man who sat cross-legged and stared back at her with interest.
Ela felt colder than she had before. How many hundreds of winters had passed since this man had gone into the hole and somehow triggered the birth of the Mountain?
“And how did a child like you find her way into the Secret Way?” he asked. “I have been here for several years now, and no one has ever appeared before.” His accent was strange, but the tongue was that of her own people.
She pulled her skirt about her goose-pimpled arms. “It has been far longer than that, if you are the one who explored a hole you found among the hillocks. The place where I waited for something to happen was formed after you went, when the Mountain was created.”
He sat straighter. “Mountain? There is no mountain here!”
“You have been gone for many lives of men,” Ela told him. “The Mountain holds trees that have been growing forever. I was told great-grandmothers’ tales, and I read the ancient books stored in the teacherage. Even your name is forgotten, though myths tell of the rising of the Mountain beneath which, if I am right, this cavern lies.
“Three great stones stand together on the mountaintop, forming an angle in which nothing grows. Even my goats will not go into that space. But I risked drinking a tea made from a rare herb; then I came to the standing stones. Again I tasted the herb, and some force brought me here.”
He leaned forward, his eyes burning with green fires. “Why?” he demanded. “Why should a child do such a thing?”
Ela calmed her quaking bones, and considered deeply. Why indeed? Then she said, “I am one who cannot abide unanswered questions. Once I knew about that hole and what followed your entry into it, I had to understand. Nothing else will satisfy me.”
The shadowy figure began to shake with laughter, which echoed through the dark cavern. When he calmed a bit, he said, “One after my own heart, who cannot abide the unexplained. When I lived in the village, I was the only one who asked questions. And now there is another.”
Then he sobered. “How long has it been? What is the year?”
She shook her head. “This is the sixth month of the Year of Corn. I think your years may have had other names. Yet if you could see the size of the great beech tree on the Mountain, I think you might have a better idea of the time that has passed.”
“It seems so short. I think I slept for much of it, though it seems that I learned much, even in sleep.” He shook his head, and as he clutched his hair in both hands he seemed to notice for the first time that it was white. He felt his face, running his fingers through his extensive beard, as if surprised to find one at all. His waxen pallor faded to gray. “I have been...gone...for longer than I imagined. “
Then he stared at her, his eyes growing keen and bright. “What name have you?” he asked.
“Ela Castanea,” she said. “Daughter of Per Castanea and Ellana Betula.”
He gave a deep sigh and stood, as if suddenly energized. “I had a son,” he told her. “My line runs true, for my name also is Per Castanea. You are my descendant, I have no doubt.”
Staring into his faded eyes, seeing the familiar set of his jaw and angle of his cheekbones, she could not deny it. Her grandfather had looked much the same, when he was very old, and her father himself shared the shape of his face. “My most honored ancestor,” she said, “I am amazed to meet you, but I do not understand the purpose of this meeting. Is there some task I might perform for you? Do you need anything from the earth, here in you
r ancient cave? “
Those dim eyes widened, as if he had not considered such a matter. He leaned toward the wall and fumbled out a bundle, whose wrappings fell apart .His wrinkled fingers stroked three copper rods thus revealed. Each was topped by a sphere of quartz, one pale blue, one the green of moss, and the third the brilliant yellow of daisies. He held those carefully, one in his left hand, two in his right, separated by his fingers.
He gazed at them as if dreaming for a long moment. Then he looked up into Ela’s eyes. “I think this is no accidental meeting, granddaughter. When I ventured into the hole, I was seeking for wisdom that would help me protect our valley, for there was a terrible drought. I found these wands. I tried everything I could think of to make them work, but at last I fell asleep with them in my hands. I dreamed a terrible noise, but I could not wake for a very long while. When I waked at last I was sealed in this cavern and could find no passage out. I have been here ever since, sleeping.”
She thought hard. Then she said, “The noise you heard was the mountain forming. That must have changed things so the drought was not a devastating one, for there is no tale of such a misfortune in the records.”
The old man laid the rods into her hands. “Is there anything threatening the valley now? Any enemy who might raid for grain or goats?”
Ela shook her head. “If there is, we have had no forewarning of it. If there is a reason why I am here, it has not yet appeared to us. What do you think? Yet you cannot know what happens above, I know. This is so confusing.”
They sat for a long moment, in the glow of the walls, while the silence surrounded them like a blanket. Then the copper warmed in Ela’s hands; her fingers tingled with some strange energy pulsing from them. The crystals began to glimmer.
Per Castanea shivered suddenly. “They did that just before that terrible noise. It almost waked me. These rods...they must appear to the one who needs them. That is a guess, but I think it may be a good one. You must go back above, Ela Castanea, and learn what is happening, for there may be great need of you.”
She glanced around, wildly trying to see some opening that could lead her out of the cavern. “How? I don’t know how I came. If you have not found a way out, how can I?”
The ancient closed his eyes. His head drooped to his chest, and Ela thought for a terrified instant that he had gone to sleep—or died. Then his head came up, his eyes glimmering in the dim glow of the walls. “Use the rods,” he said, his voice suddenly sharp and clear. “Hold them in your fingers, roll them between your palms. I believe they will take you up again. And now I may go to my rest. I am glad to have met you, granddaughter. Thank you for taking my burden.” Then he was gone, his body sinking into a heap of dust.
Ela fingered the rods, rolled them, and breathed upon them. The tingle began again, stronger than before. Filled with hope and despair, the goat girl visualized the space between the stones and willed herself there.
Darkness filled her, and she was disoriented. When she came to herself again she was sitting on the mountaintop; the sun was setting, gilding the stones with reddish light. Yet the angle was wrong—the sun should have hung in its spring position, but now it indicated late fall. How much time had passed while she sat talking with her ancestor? And where were the goats?
She rose to her knees, her legs stiff, as if she had sat here for months. Pulling herself up by one of the stones, she stood, looking around her. The foliage was wearing its fall colors, and the grass was eaten to the roots. The goats would already be retreating down the mountain. She knew she had to go down and see to them, but she found it difficult to walk. With a pang, she realized that her parents must have given her up for lost, even now, mourning her, in their quiet way. She must hurry to comfort them.
The village lay silent below her as she descended the last slope. Too silent. With the sun only just set, there should be some activity, if only Seela seeing to some sick person. But no one stirred, few windows glowed with lamplight. Filled with foreboding, Ela stumbled to her mother’s house and pushed open the door.
The smell of illness met her. The lamp was not lit in the front chamber, but a dim gleam shone through the door to the kitchen. A clink of a spoon told her someone was there, and she forced herself forward. When she entered the room her mother turned a haggard face toward her and almost fell at the shock of seeing her.
Ela ran to her and eased her onto a stool. “Mother, what has happened? Who is ill? How long have I been gone?”
Ellana shook her head. “Stop!” she commanded. “Now tell me, slowly and carefully, where you have been and how you manage to come at this time when almost all are very sick—or dead—with this strange ailment.”
Ela drew a deep breath and sat, facing her mother. Then she told her, in the simplest terms she could find, what had happened. When she was done, Ellana thought for a long time, holding onto Ela’s hands. Then she sighed and said, “You actually spoke to the ancestor of our family—that is a great thing. And it was he who raised the Mountain all those aeons ago. Time must work very differently where he was. But now it is time to see if those things you brought back can work to save our people from this plague. Even Atelle has never seen its like. The books in the teacherage do not mention anything resembling it. Four have died, two of them old, two of them very young. Your father is very sick as well. Let us try first with him.”
Ela felt her heart grow cold. Could she learn so quickly to use those alien rods? Beginning with her own father was a terrible test, but she took the things from her satchel and followed her mother. Her father, big and burly when she had left, now seemed shrunken and pale, his skin hanging loosely upon his bones. She knew the look of death, for many illnesses plagued her people, and she knew that if she could not control those strange rods her father would die within a day.
She touched his forehead, and he opened his eyes. “I am here, Father,” she said, “with something that may help you. I am not sure, but this is better than nothing.”
He could not speak, but he blinked and waited for her to do what she must. The rods warmed in her hands, and she began to tingle all over. She concentrated her mind and her will upon her suffering father. His color improved, and he seemed to be in less pain,. She sat in the chair and rested, while her mother examined him.
“He is better, but he is wasted and weakened. It may be that he will never be the man he was,” Ellana said. “But your brother is also sick, there on his cot. Try with him, for he has less resistance than your father had.”
Ela knelt beside small Urban’s side and touched his forehead. Instead of the heat of fever, she seemed to feel the chill of death. She took the rods in hand again and worked with them to heal. Now the tingle seemed to flow into that of Urban, and he drew a deep breath, his stiff body relaxing. She laid the rods on either side and on his chest, and his breathing eased. Now he looked much better.
The door opened quietly and Atelle looked into the room. Once she learned what had happened, she said, “You must come with me, Ela. Many more are very low tonight, and some may die without your help. You are weary, I know, but they are dying.”
Ela straightened and stood, putting the rods into her satchel again. “I must eat something,” she said. “Mother, do you have food prepared?”
Ellana nodded. “I will bring it after you. Go with Atelle now. I will be there soon.”
The night was very long, despite the hot soup and fresh bread her mother brought. Of the fifteen most serious cases, the rods improved the condition of twelve. Two were marginally better. The oldest of the Elders died, much to her grief. When dawn broke, Ela returned home and dropped into sleep. She dreamed of the old Per Castanea, who spoke to her with great seriousness, though she could not recall exactly what he said.
When she woke, Seela stood beside her, staring down with a strange expression on her wrinkled face. The girl stood up with a murmured apology and went to wash her face in the sto
ne basin beneath the pipe from the cistern on the roof. “Now I am more respectable,” she said, turning to look at the old woman.
Seela did not smile. “I have brought you the command of the Elders,” she said, her voice more stern than Ela had ever heard it. “You must marry Atelle’s son Jerob today, and he will take from you those rods and give them to me, for it is forbidden for me to take them myself.”
Weary as she had been, Ela found herself angry—angrier than ever before. This was what the ancestor had warned her about in her dream. She drew herself up, squared her shoulders, and spoke directly to the Elder.
“I will not marry Jerob or anyone else. I will not relinquish those rods to anyone, for they were put into my keeping for the protection of our people. Possession of them would corrupt your spirit, Seela, however old or wise you consider yourself.”
“We will force you…,” but the old woman’s words were interrupted by a humming sound, as the rods rose from Ela’s satchel and zipped through the open door. Ela laughed. “You could not use them, even if I obeyed your orders. They are a Mystery from the ancient times. I had them from the hands of my distant ancestor, and he came to me in dream to instruct me. Go back to the Elders, Seela, and tell them the rods are gone. I will follow them. Never, save in winter, will I live in this village again.”
“You would leave us unprotected? We need you!” Seela cried.
“I will be near at need,” Ela said. “Blow the ram’s horn. I will hear, for I will build a hut on the Mountain beside the standing stones. If you try to force me to stay here, there will be no help from me, for attempting that will deny this valley grace forever.”
Seela snarled, “This is Power! You are a mere child, unworthy to wield it. We who have borne the responsibility here will find them and take them. We will control all the places beyond the mountain chain.” Her face was distorted.
The Second Ardath Mayhar Page 15