by Diana Rivers
With her body swaying slightly, the old Asharan began intoning words in a steady, repetitive, melodic drone. Almost immediately I was caught in the tide of her voice like a leaf caught in the flow of the river. Utterly at peace, I floated there for what seemed like a long while. Then I suddenly found myself being pulled, drawn in, sucked under by a faster and faster current, pulled into what felt like the center of a whirlpool, taken at great speed through many unknown places, split open to the core, peeled back and turned inside out. These are only words to speak of experiences for which there are no words. How long this all took as measured in the ordinary mortal world I have no idea, but when I finally came back to myself the light in the cave had shifted from morning to well past noon. The Asharan had not moved and was watching me with a look of concern on her face.
Of what happened after that, of what I learned there, I am forbidden to speak or to write in this account, though I am free to say that just before the Old One left me, she leaned forward and said in my ear, “If any of those Witches have the wish to speak to an old Asharan and the strength to climb up here, they are welcome to it, for I do not think I will leave this place alive. And you are right, sometimes it does grow lonely even in Her Presence, but tell them to come only one at a time. More than that would be too much for me now. And that one that I see so much in your head, that one especially I would like to share some thoughts with.”
“Alyeeta,” I said softly, picturing Alyeeta sitting by the pool in the cavern, ‘sharing thoughts’ as the Old One had said, speaking or not speaking as was needed.
“Yes, Alyeeta. Be sure to tell that one to come.” Those are the last words I remember her speaking. Then she passed her hand across my eyes. I closed them, and almost instantly fell asleep.
I was awakened by the cold and the rising winds. From far off I could hear the thunder rolling, coming closer each time. Soon the lightning began to flash, tearing open the darkness. The sound of the wind rose to a screech, then a howl, sometimes blowing into the mouth of the cavern itself in its passing. It almost felt as if there was some malignant presence coming at me there. When the rain began, I went to sit against the cavern wall, pulling my bedroll up around me as if for protection. The rage and fury of the storm seemed to be increasing. The lightning was close and frequent now, and the roar of the thunder shook the ground under my feet. Added to that was the uproar of rain lashing against the rock. I thought that soon the water in the cavern would begin to rise, but I was far too afraid to go and look. Then the wind began tugging at my covers as if to tear them out of my hands. It seemed clear now that the storm was coming after me, seeking me out with its violence. Trembling I hunched myself down even smaller, clutching my covers around me. When my hand touched the pendant, I remembered the Old One’s words. I was able to shift the covers to one hand and press the pendant between my breasts with the other.
At first all that happened was that the wind grew even fiercer, tugging first this way and then that. My fingers cramped with pain as I wrestled with it. Then, very gradually, the warmth from the pendant spread through me, and with it a measure of calm. After a while the wind and thunder and lightning seemed to draw back and have less force. The storm seemed to be abating somewhat, or I was less afraid.
***
When I woke next the space around me was lit by a shaft of sunlight breaking through some hole in the cavern roof. I was stiff and cramped, leaning at some strange angle against the cavern wall with my pendant gripped in one hand and my covers in the other. It took some effort to loosen my fingers. Outside the sun was shining brightly. Inside the cavern there were torn leaves and branches strewn about. The pool had risen to cover most of the floor. With a groan, I pushed myself upright and found that I was swaying on my feet. I felt light and hollow, like something washed clean and hung out to dry, my anger gone like the storm. Of the old woman I saw no sign. It was as if she had never been there.
Cautiously I went to the edge of the pool to fill my water gourd. The face that met me there was my own—calm, clear and somehow vacant. Then the face of the old Asharan floated up through mine so that I turned quickly to look for her, but there was no one behind me. When I turned back there was another old woman’s face in the water, familiar and yet not familiar. I leaned forward to look more closely and she leaned forward, too. I opened my mouth to speak and she opened hers as well. Then I understood. It was myself as an old woman who looked back at me. The word ‘Hadra’ came into my head as if she had spoken it. With that I felt that same twisting and shifting of time inside me that I had felt on the knoll that day. “Enough,” I said quickly to the pool, dipping in the gourd and so breaking the reflection.
The slope down was a scene of devastation, the path strewn with torn and broken branches, leaves and flowers and dead butterflies, the bright scattered remnants of yesterday’s beauty. Water was flowing everywhere, not one waterfall but many. The main waterfall from the cave was foamy and brown with mud. Branches and boulders made the scramble down even more difficult and dangerous than the way up. When I reached the valley floor there were few signs of the fury of the storm, only some broken twigs and some puddles already reflecting a blue sky.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Once I was down in the valley, I walked back as quickly as I could, fearing that some unexpected happening might force the others to leave without me. But I moved strange and dazed, as if spellbound, almost absent from myself, seeing nothing of the land around me. I had little thought of the future as I went, or even of what lay ahead for me in the camp. All I knew was that my anger was gone and that I had not died in parting with it, though at times I think I had come very close. There were moments in my encounter with the Old One when it had seemed as if body and spirit might be wrenched apart forever. And perhaps some part of me had indeed died there, leaving me with a strange aching hollowness. Things had passed in that cave, some of terror and some of wonder that I will never find words for, even if I were free to speak.
When it grew dark I dropped by the road to sleep. I was up and moving again with the first light. Altogether I was in no way prepared for or expecting the welcome that came rushing at me. I must have been spotted by a sentry, for long before I was in the camp, long before I was walking among the tents and wagons, a mass of Khal Hadera Lossien, with some Witches and Wanderers among them, poured out to greet me. The same women who had turned their faces away and shown me their backs, were now shouting greetings, eager to reach out and touch me, hugging and kissing if they could press close enough. At the edge of the crowd I saw Hereschell watching me anxiously, but not trying to force himself a path.
Suddenly, pushing her way through the others, it was Kara who stood before me. For that moment, out of all the crowd, hers was the only face I saw, the only voice I heard. “Oh, Tazzia, I thought I would die when they sent you away.”
I gazed at that familiar pale face in its mass of copper red hair, and everything else stopped. Her green eyes were staring intently into mine. It was almost like that first look between us, back when we were children, and she had stared into my soul till suddenly I had come alive in her eyes. In the silence that followed I felt her pleading with me, or rather heard her in my head. Finally, not even knowing what I was going to say, I opened my mouth and heard the words rushing out. “Kara, I will love you always. No matter who you share your bed with, you will always be the sister of my heart.” I reached out to her. At the same moment a weakness came over me and I began swaying on my feet. Rishka had ridden up next to me leading Dancer. Before my legs could buckle under me she was off her horse and boosting me onto Dancer’s back with Kara’s help. Then she tossed her horse’s reins to another and leapt on behind me. In this way, clinging to Dancer’s mane with both hands and held upright in Rishka’s strong arms, I rode into camp surrounded by shouting, cheering women.
While I was eating, women began showering me with questions, questions I was forbidden to answer or had not yet put words to myself. This went on until Pell
shouted for silence and Kara raised her flute to play. Then I was free to finish in peace.
Afterward, while I was resting in front of Alyeeta’s tent, Vestri came striding in that direction, clearly in search of me. Much surprised, I jumped up instantly, ready to defend myself, but there was no anger in her face. She even took a step or two backward. Looking down at the ground she said slowly and clearly, as if she had practiced the words, “Tazzi, you may not believe me, but I am very glad to see you safely back. It was I who provoked your anger and in so doing helped drive you away. There may even have been some intention in that. If so, I have paid dearly for it in sleepless nights, tossing and turning, fearful for your safety and ashamed of my part in what happened between us. I hope you may have it in your heart to forgive me.” So saying, she held out her hand to me.
I looked away for a moment as if I had not seen her gesture and had to bite the inside of my lip to keep from laughing. I did not want her to think I mocked her, but it felt as if fate had just spun me around in her fingers. Was this the Cerroi at work, that circle of connections that Hereschell had spoken of so often? I remembered all too well my own guilt-ridden, sleepless nights when Renaise was on the road. At that moment I could see again in my mind’s eye Pell standing so humble-proud with her hand outstretched, waiting for Hereschell to accept or refuse her. Vestri had much the same look on her face. What had it cost her to come and say these words to me? I hesitated for just an instant longer, then quickly reached out to clasp her hand in both of mine. “The Goddess must think us great fools to hate each other for loving the same woman.” I said with a sudden grin.
“I think perhaps you are more generous than I could have been,” she replied, looking into my face for the first time in that encounter.
I shrugged, still trying to hold back the laughter. “I would not bet any money on Tazzi’s generosity,” I answered with amusement. “That one has much to learn of such things. It is just that she has been emptied of anger, emptied as a cracked pot is emptied of water. It has all run out; there is nothing left to hold it in.”
Vestri was staring at me as if trying to read the meaning of those strange words. Suddenly the laughter rose up in me irresistibly and broke through. Instantly Vestri withdrew her hand, looking at me sharply to see if I mocked her.
“No, no,” I said quickly. “It is not you I laugh at, it is myself. It all comes round. Oh Mother, it all comes round.” I choked out those last words and began laughing again. It must have been clear to Vestri that I meant no harm, for this time she joined me. That is how Kara found us. We were leaning against each other and laughing together like two fools or like two old friends. When my laughter subsided I took both of their hands in mine. “As Pell would say, what does any of this matter anyhow? We are alive, we are free, we are all here together. The rest is details.” Brave words indeed and for that moment I meant them, though later there were still times when it was very hard for me to see them together. Of course, now that I was no longer angry with Kara, she spent far more time with me, even seeking me out, but all that is ahead of my story.
For her part Alyeeta welcomed me back. She greeted me as lovingly as if I had never said those dreadful words. I heard them over and over in my own head, but she made no mention of what had passed. Contrite and ashamed, I finally mumbled, “I was not sure you would miss me at all. I thought I had been so troublesome that you would not grieve for me if I died there.”
“Daughter, if I lived to be three hundred I would have grieved for you always, grieved for you dying alone in those hills. Thank the Mother there is no need for that, though I can tell you I did not sleep well these past few nights. Instead you have come back to plague us and tug at my heart again.”
“Oh, Alyeeta, when I think of all the pain I have caused you...”
“Well, pain lets us know we are alive as much as joy does. I am seldom bored. And at least this time you have the grace not to make grand promises you cannot keep about your future words.” I bowed my head and looked at the ground in shame, remembering where my tongue had led me. On my side of it I did not mention Alyeeta’ s part in the belling-out. It was all over now. Perhaps it had been for the best, after all.
That first night back I slept with Alyeeta, held in her arms, not for passion but for protection, for shelter. I was much like a child again, though far more fragile than the child Tazzia had ever been. And first we talked. With a sly smile Alyeeta said, “It is a shame there are no Ashara left in the Asharan Hills. An Asharan could best have taught you what you needed to know. Tell me, how is it that you came away from there cured?”
I nodded and said nothing, trying hard to shield my thoughts, not sure if I wanted to speak even to Alyeeta of what had passed between me and the old woman in the cave. Then I knew from her smile that she mocked me gently and could see into my head. “There is much I cannot speak of,” I said quickly.
“Tell me what you are free to tell and shut the door of your mind on the rest. I will not try to pry my way past that barrier.”
I told her all I have written here and no more. She listened sharply to everything I said and asked few questions, though when I told her the message that was for her ears alone her expression changed. I knew without a doubt that she would go. I have told Alyeeta and Kara and these pages what happened in my time away, no one else, neither Star-Child nor Witch, no matter how they begged. When I finished my tale, Alyeeta sat silent for a while, staring off into the dark, a strange look playing across her face in the light of her little oil lamp. Finally, to draw her back, I whispered, “Alyeeta, did you ever meet with the Ashara?”
She turned and looked at me as if surprised to see me there. When I had almost given up hope of her answering me at all, she said, “Yes, many Ashara and many times. When I was still a child I was sent for a short while to live in one of their villages high in the hills. It was my mother’s plan that they should have the teaching of me. She herself had only modest powers, but she knew my talent and had ambitions for me. She wanted me to rank among the great Witches. In spite of my bent toward mischief she thought I had the makings of it, but only if I could be well trained. That was in the old days, in the time before the Witch-kills, when a mother could have such hopes for her daughter. And, indeed, I fulfilled her hopes, at least for a while, becoming the head of the Witch convent at a younger age than could have been expected, but that is all part of another story. Now the mother of a Witch-child is glad if her child survives and can pass herself off as a simple healer with the rest of her powers well hidden. Ah well, as it must be. It is all gone now, a whole world gone.
“As to the child Alyeeta, they took me blindfolded on a two day ride. When they unbound my eyes we were high in the hills. The horses were struggling up a steep rocky path. Mist was swirling around us, sometimes obscuring everything but the ground a few steps in front of the horses’ hooves. In the next moment it would rise, revealing the steep craggy drop that fell away next to our path. As I was a valley child, I clung with terror to the pony’s mane. Also, I was much afraid at being separated in this way from everything and everyone I knew.
“But I was a curious and daring young one at the time. Soon I recovered my spirit. Besides, the Ashara were kind and gentle to me. They taught me with never a raised voice or hand, not what I had been accustomed to at home. Yet I, who had no habit of obedience, and had been struck often enough by my mother for my willful ways, strove my best to please them and do just as I was bidden, trembling when I failed. For all their kindness I never felt a closeness with them. They took me into their homes, but not into their hearts. I never even knew where their hearts lay. They are not like us, the Ashara—human yes, but they are different. Though they were always good to me, I never felt included in the core of their lives. It was as if I were an intelligent animal or a pet, something to be well treated. Yet in some ways I am their daughter. I learned much from them. Who else is left to carry on their ways? And you, the Khal Hadera Lossien, you are their granddaughters. Yes
, much of what I still practice is what they taught me. And still, with all that, I was very glad to return to my quarrelsome family and my mother’s quick hand.”
“Where is your family now? You have never spoken to me of a family. Are any still living?”
I saw her stiffen suddenly and a look of pain filled her eyes. “No, no, all gone, all dead. Murdered at the time of the Witch-kills. Even my poor old father, a kind gentle man with no more powers than a winter’s leaf. All butchered—my mother; my father; my older sister Cassil who truly had the makings of a great Witch; my younger brother and sister who had no talents at all but for living a good, simple life; all their children, even little babies—all slaughtered.
“All that survived were myself, for I was living in Macktesh by then and running a Witch convent there, and Cassil’s man Torrin along with two of their daughters, the two who had gone with him to market in the next town that day. A friend had ridden in haste to tell them to flee for their lives. When the news was brought to me, I thought my time would be next. I was sure the Zarn of Macktesh would soon do as the Zarn of Eezore had done and set his sword against the Witches of the city. And to my great grief I was right. All those who would not listen to my warning perished in those next few months. But that is another tale. Enough of these horrors.”