Child of a Mad God--A Tale of the Coven

by R. A. Salvatore

  “I hide out here,” he admitted. “I hide from the other frontiersmen with their bullying and raucous foolishness. I hide from the fighting and the disease.” He looked her squarely in the eye and spoke to her nod. “I hide from my memories, from the pain.”

  “You walk the same road over and over because your own footprints comfort you,” Khotai said. “You accept—”

  “I accepted having nothing, being nothing. Having no one and being no one…” Talmadge said quietly.

  “To avoid the pain.” She moved closer and kissed him on the cheek. “Your life is a bard’s tale, and better that story if your life is a tree with spreading branches. Write your own story, my dear Talmadge. Wander the ways of the world and of those feelings that burn and twist within you. Put your fears aside—should not the greatest fear of all be the fear that you will die without ever having lived?”

  “So easy to say,” he replied.

  Khotai laughed at him and kissed him again, then whispered into his ear, “You took me to this place, did you not? And twice took me back.”

  When he didn’t immediately respond, she pushed him out to arm’s length and painted a pained expression on her face. “Do you regret that choice?”

  Now it was Talmadge’s turn to laugh, and with more than a little embarrassment.

  “Of course not,” he said to Khotai’s knowing smirk, but before he had even finished the response, the woman was tugging him along toward the small hut the tribe had offered them. They left the flap open, for the door faced the lake and there were no huts between this one and the waters, and doing so let the silvery moonlight sparkle and splash in upon them in their lovemaking.

  Talmadge thought this night a chapter of his story that he would never forget and ever relish.

  * * *

  Under that same moon, high up on the mountain, Seonagh stared at the crystal of far-sight with a look of complete frustration. She had privately looked in on Aoleyn, to glimpse the girl leaving the entryway and moving along the maze of the crystal cavern, lighting the diamond crystals with ease.

  But Seonagh wanted more than a simple glimpse! She wanted to send her magical vision back in there now to follow the girl’s progress. Could Aoleyn call up some of the other crystals as easily as she had ignited the magical light? Would she find Craos’a’diad and would she at last recognize it for what it was?

  In the larger scheme of things, that didn’t really matter, she supposed. Aoleyn had revealed her easy affinity with the magic of Usgar, and just the display Seonagh and the other two had witnessed would surely be enough to secure her a place in the Coven when came the next opening. No other woman of the tribe not already among the witches was remotely close to this girl’s inherent understanding of the crystals—and Seonagh even wondered how many in the Coven possessed such insights.

  Mod-garadh had been held by the women of Usgar for generations—forever in the counting to the tribe’s memories and oral histories. It was not without danger, for some women simply could not handle the unrelenting blackness and the radiant magical energy of the cave. Some few panicked wholly, and would lie shivering on the floor throughout the night, feeling the effects of the cavern in an acute, unfocused way. They were usually broken and mad by morning, some never to recover.

  For truly, mod-garadh was one of the two great dangers to young Usgar women, the other being childbirth.

  All who went into the cavern felt that panic to some degree, Seonagh knew. She had, and so had Elara and Mairen, and just as had Aoleyn. The measure of the young women was more regarding how they recovered from that panic, and whether they could then go on to enact the magic that would show them the beauty of Usgar about them. For the majority of women who could regain their calmness, the night would be spent in meditation, feeling the vibrations of the cavern in the spot where they had been placed. Even these women would emerge the next day exhilarated and eager to continue the magical training—but alas, it would be minimal.

  Rare were the girls like Aoleyn, ones who proved so naturally attuned to the crystals that they could produce light or other effects. Most of these women would still simply stay in the antechamber of the caverns and explore the magic of the various crystals. When Seonagh saw Aoleyn producing light and standing, she thought the girl might take this path, and she was happy.

  But Aoleyn’s affinity with the crystals was matched by the uncontrollable young woman’s insatiable curiosity, and she had taken the rarest, and most dangerous, path of all, setting out to explore the ways of the labyrinthine cavern.

  It was said that women choosing this path had been, without exception, the greatest singers of Usgar’s song—if they survived.

  But that was the problem, for most of those who went into the caverns on their own during the trial, so untrained and unprepared, never returned.

  Seonagh winced, reminding herself that her own fate would be tied to Aoleyn’s. If the girl did not return, Tay Aillig would likely get his way and return her to her husband.

  She looked down at the crystal of far-sight once again, frustrated to the point where she wanted to throw it away. There was nothing to do now. Magic could not be sent deeper into the caverns from the outside, not through far-sight or far-walking or any other means the Coven had ever discovered. The vibrations of the multitude of crystals within simply prevented such outside intrusions.

  Aoleyn was alone.

  Seonagh, too exhausted to even walk back to the Coven’s fire, collapsed upon the ground into a fitful sleep of terrible dreams.

  * * *

  The moon was still up, though low across Loch Beag, when Talmadge crawled to the threshold of his hut and peered out at it once more.

  He loved it here. Perhaps what he had said earlier rang of truth: that he was hiding from his pain, but that didn’t change the fact that he truly loved this place. The light was different here, both under the sun and the moon, and he found it comforting and pleasing.

  He glanced back at Khotai, sleeping on the mat, and considered her words, her way of life. To her it was a storybook, and one to be made thick. Or as she told it, her life would be no pole, but a tree, spreading wide with hundreds of branches, hundreds of side roads to catch her fancy, and full of blossoms. She had known many men, and had probably killed many, too. She had traveled the world, to the Mirianic Ocean and now, as far out here in the wild as any To-gai-ru or Bearman of Honce had probably ever gone.

  “Except for Redshanks,” Talmadge whispered with a chuckle.

  “What about him?” came Khotai’s voice from right behind him, and she was against him before he could even turn to regard her, looking out at the full, silvery moon.

  “Nothing,” Talmadge answered. “I was just thinking that he has probably enjoyed this very sight from this very place.”

  “The book of his life is thick.”

  Talmadge smiled.

  “Six other villages?” Khotai asked, and not for the first time in the two years since she had first known this place.

  “Seven if you include the one on the mountain.”

  “You don’t include that one.”

  “No.”

  “So, six?” she asked again. “You will be visiting six more before you turn back to the north and east.”

  The man shrugged.

  “Are all the views as grand as from here?” Khotai asked, although Talmadge realized that she was asking much more than that. This time, though, the question sounded a bit different to him.

  “The same,” he replied, though he broke his response a bit short. “Mostly the same,” he corrected.

  “So if e’er I was to make that journey, I’d see little different than I’m seeing this night, looking out across the lake?”

  “The mountain would loom behind you from Fasach Crann,” Talmadge admitted. “A giant shadow upon you the whole of the morning. There is a different feel to that.”

  “But that’s the place you like the most,” said Khotai, and the man nodded. “Mostly the same things to se
e, though?” she asked.

  Talmadge paused and considered his next words carefully. He didn’t want to lie to Khotai, not ever, and there was one place out here where there was indeed much, much more to see. Sellad Tulach, all the way across the lake, directly opposite Car Seileach if one rowed directly to the east from this spot. Sellad Tulach overlooked the Desert of Black Stones, and most of the world, it seemed.

  Talmadge realized and admitted that he wanted to share that view with Khotai.

  He pointed straight out across the lake and said, “The world looks different from the other side of the lake, from Sellad Tulach.”

  “Mountain view?” Khotai asked, properly translating the name. “There are many ways in which the language of To-gai resembles the words spoken here,” she explained. “It would not surprise me to find that the tribes here came from the steppes.”

  “Or maybe the other way around?”

  Khotai thought it over for just a moment, then nodded.

  “I want to see the world from that place, then,” she decided. The way she spoke and the way she backed off from Talmadge and stiffened just a bit told him that she expected a roaring argument over that. Three times he had taken her to this place, Car Seileach, the safest of the lake villages, the one most open to outsiders—and the only easy approach to this region came down this side of the lake—but in their previous journeys, he had never wavered on his refusal to bring her to the other, less inviting and far more dangerous villages.

  Indeed, Talmadge’s first instinct was to shake his head, and his denial of her request was almost out of his mouth.

  Almost.

  But he looked at her, sitting back, chewing her lip, so hopeful, and he knew that he couldn’t deny her.

  “There are two other villages only a day’s walk,” he explained. “We will go to them together this time, and return to this place in no more than a week. If you hold in the good graces of those lakemen and the ones here, I’ll take you across the lake and let you see the world from the high vista of Sellad Tulach.”

  “And if not?” she asked slyly.

  “I’ll bury your corpse,” Talmadge replied immediately. “If the lakemen have not already eaten you.”

  Khotai’s face went through a series of quite funny expressions then, as she tried to wind her way through his surprising statement. In the end, though, Talmadge’s grin gave it away, and the woman went back to him to share his view of the full moon.

  And to kiss him.

  21

  CURIOSITY AND COURAGE

  She could see nothing. She knew she was in the dark pit—and indeed, even the light of the moon had disappeared when she had gone over the edge—but she could not feel the walls about her.

  Just the wind, growing as she plummeted ever faster, whipping her shift about her, bending her face out of shape, threatening to rip the two crystals from her hand so much so that she clutched them tightly to her chest and slapped her other hand above them. And she felt, too, the cold, deepening, reaching into her bones, stealing her life.

  She felt herself tumbling over backward, head down. Aoleyn tried to cry out, expecting to shatter her skull at any moment. Not that it would have mattered, she realized, and perhaps would be better if she landed that way, to end it quickly.

  She reached her thoughts out, seeking some diamond-flecked crystals so that she could at least see. She sent her thoughts out all about, seeking the song of Usgar, seeking crystals on the walls, if there even were walls.

  But she found nothing out there, and it wasn’t until Aoleyn retrieved her sensibilities that she felt the first tug of Usgar, from one of the crystals she held.

  She reached into it with all her strength, and heard the song deep within, far away, tiny. But she felt those green flakes and sang back to them. She felt their vibrations and she sent her own, from her heart, from her line of life.

  She sang louder and forgot she was falling, so deeply did she fall into the glow and magic of Usgar. No longer did the notes seem tiny and far away. She could picture them now in her mind, coming closer, answering her call.

  Together, they sang, Aoleyn and the magical crystal.

  It took her many heartbeats to even realize that her fall had slowed, that the wind was but a breeze now, and she opened her eyes.

  But saw nothing, for the blackness seemed deeper still.

  She hung there for just a moment, disoriented. Was she upside down? Were her feet below her and near to a floor? How far had she fallen?

  She thought she had made an error then, for she began to move again, and panicked as she feared it a fatal mistake as she once again began to gain speed.

  Aoleyn threw her thoughts fully into the crystal, screamed for it to help her, to stop her descent.

  But no, she was speeding once more.

  * * *

  Seonagh stirred and opened her eyes to greet the sunrise, a sunrise that had come earlier because they were on the back side of the mountain. After a moment of reorienting herself to her surroundings and trying to recall all about the previous evening, she was surprised to learn that she was no longer lying right before the entrance to the crystal cavern, but was, rather, back by the campfire.

  Connebragh winked at her, clearly recognizing her confusion, and Seonagh nodded and understood. Connebragh and the others had carried her here. As anxious as she remained about Aoleyn’s fate, Seonagh couldn’t be mad at that choice, for how much more might her bones ache had she spent the night on the cold ground?

  She pulled herself up to a seated position and regarded the sunrise. Her head immediately swiveled, back down to the cave entrance, where a pair of witches maintained the illusionary wall.

  “Aoleyn has not emerged?” she asked.

  Connebragh shook her head.

  “She is back near the entrance, though,” Seonagh prompted. “You have heard her stirring. We will find her when we open the cave.”

  “No,” said a somber Connebragh, shaking her head. “We’ve had no sight or sound of the girl since she began wandering the caverns.”

  “The sun is above the horizon,” Seonagh protested. “Why is the cave not opened?”

  “Soon.”

  “It is past time!” Seonagh climbed to her feet.

  “Seonagh,” Connebragh said, leaping up and taking her by the arm—and looking to the side, thus drawing Seonagh’s gaze to the men, particularly Tay Aillig and Raibert, who were all looking back at her sternly.

  “Seonagh,” Connebragh repeated more quietly. “It is not your choice to make.” She motioned down to the side, where another pair of witches were looking up at her. Both had bowls of steaming stew before them, tubers and roots, and one had another in hand and was filling it, for Seonagh, obviously.

  “The Usgar-righinn will tell us when,” Connebragh added.

  With a sigh and a glance to the cave entrance, Seonagh sat back down and accepted the bowl from the other woman. She ate slowly, not really hungry, her stomach churning as she worried over the fate of her student, her niece. Her protégé.

  “When last did anyone peer into the cavern?” she asked.

  “When the moon touched the western horizon, as is permitted,” Connebragh reminded. “That was many hours ago. Take heart, for we’re sure to find Aoleyn sitting where we left her.”

  Seonagh returned the woman’s comforting smile. She wished she could share that optimism, too. She glanced at the rising sun a hundred times over the next short while. It seemed to move not at all. Time itself had stopped, it seemed.

  She wanted to scream out! To run down and take up a crystal and call forth its power to look inside the cave, to find Aoleyn! A feeling that Aoleyn needed her, that they would find the girl lying broken on the floor, overwhelmed her. Had Aoleyn’s mind been shattered by the magic? Seonagh thought of her sister, reduced to babbling incoherence after her encounter with the power of the fossa. Had the magic of the cavern done the same to Aoleyn? Or was Aoleyn already dead?

  She had to know!

>   She dropped her bowl and stood up to pace about, tapping her finger nervously to her bottom lip. She glanced up the rise and noted Tay Aillig staring back at her, and smiling his awful smile. The truth of his thoughts seemed clear to her. Ever was that one taking pleasure in her discomfort.

  She tried to compose herself, unsuccessfully.

  She nearly jumped out of her shoes when Mairen at last shouted that it was time to open the cavern.

  * * *

  The first rays of dawn seeped about Aoleyn’s eyelids and roused her. Groggily, she pulled herself up to her elbows, blinked the sleep out of her eyes, and looked all about.

  She was on the ground, right beside Craos’a’diad. For a moment, that confused her, but then she smiled, remembering her fall, remembering her magical halt to the fall and then her second fall.

  Except, she had come to understand when she saw again the moonlight, that second plummet was really her soaring upward! She had brought forth the power of the green-flecked crystal to reverse her fall, and it had carried her right up through the ceiling of the cavern, this very chasm the Usgar called the Mouth of God.

  Aoleyn closed her eyes and basked in the warm memories of the overwhelming magical song that had flowed so fully through her, and in the realization that she had passed her test, certainly, that she had escaped.

  Her smile of self-satisfaction disappeared almost immediately, though, and she hopped up to her knees and began reaching all about with her hands, searching for the two crystals!

  There they were, right beside her, and she scooped them up and brought them lovingly to her breast, particularly the green-flecked one that had saved her life.

  Aoleyn crept over and glanced into the maw of the chasm, and saw, far below, the deeper blackness of the pit. She didn’t know how far she had fallen that previous night, or how much farther she had to fall before she found its bottom, but it was a long, long way—it occurred to her that it was possibly deeper than Fireach Speuer was tall!