Annah and the Children of Evohe

by Clay Gilbert

“As do I,” Liara chimed in. “Many of them are-like mine and Chelries’ parents once were. They do not trust Shapingand they do not trust you. And they blame you, now, for what has happened to Serra.”

  “They look everywhere but themselves! They did not trust Serra, either.” Annah said, her voice sounding thin and worn.

  “But they knew her,” Chelries said. “And sometimes that makes all the difference. Whether it should or not,” she added in an even softer voice than usual. “I am sorry, Annah.”

  “It is not your fault, Chelries. Perhaps it is no one’s fault. It is simply something that must be faced.” Annah looked back at Serra, as if her teacher might sit up at any moment, restored once again. “And now, I need your help, both of you. We must lay Serra to her rest-even though this sleep will be longer, and of a different kind.”

  The three seed-maidens had nearly completed their task when they saw Charan and the others of the Circle making their way toward them, their feet seeming as slow to Annah as the passage of time itself around her.

  “Thank you for talking to them,” Annah told Charan. “It did little good. But I think there is something that might make a difference. It is not an idea I like, and I doubt you will like it, either. But it may help.”

  “Tell me.”

  * * *

  “I do not like this,” Chelries said. “You are the Elder Shaper now. How can anyone expect you just to leave?” “It may be what is best for now. Many of them still do not understand me, and would reject our ways if I were the one teaching them-both because of my age and becausebecause of who I am. If I go away for a time, and someone else plants the seeds of Shaping anew, perhaps, when I can return, our people will see me more clearly, too. Charan said that they blame me for Serra, too.”

  “That was my brother’s fault, not yours,” Chelries said, stomping the soft soil of the Elder Grove with her foot.

  “I know that, as he does. But if her death will help people to value the old ways again, I am content to continue to be an outcast, for a time.” “If you are an outcast, then I will be, as well.”

  “And I,” Liara said.

  The sentiment was echoed by each of the original nine members of the circle in turn. Annah smiled. “It-it makes me happy, knowing that you would all leave your lives and families behind, when I do not even know where I am going, in the end. But who will keep the ways of Shaping alive for our people, if I am gone, and all of you with me?”

  “I will do it, dear one.” Lilliane stepped forward from the crowd. “As Serra will have told you, there can be only one Elder, and my time along that road is done—but there will be no formal Circle while you are gone; while the Shadow still lies over our people’s hearts. There are those who will still seek the Shaper’s way; there are those who already seek it. And I will teach them, in seclusion, one to another, so that we may not draw attention until wisdom has displaced ignorance. And I will keep in touch with you, wherever you are, so that you may know what passes here, and advise me.”

  Advise you? Annah started to ask, but stilled her thoughts. This was the Way. “Thank you, Lilliane. That is something I am sure I will need. Did you-did you help Serra, too, when she was first an Elder?” Annah laughed. “The word sounds so funny-I am not even nineteen cycles old.” Somehow, Annah knew, the Age of Choosing did not apply where the First Ones were concerned.

  Lilliane smiled. “I did, yes, but she grew into her own counsel quickly. It is the Way. I myself was your age when I led my first Circle, and Serra was actually seventeen when she became an Elder. It is said that the First Ones often choose us early, in any case, so that we will have the strength of youth to help us do what must be done.”

  “Well, that is a comfort.”

  * * *

  “Must you go, Goodman?” Irie asked. He hated the look of pain in her eyes. He had come to see her to say goodbye, although he knew he could have left easily enough, with Annah still away, and not attracted any attention. Calla, Irie’s younger sister, who was now nearly six cycles old, looked up at him with the same question in her eyes. “Stay with us,” she said, as if it were the simplest request in the world.

  Goodman looked at Irie’s still-swollen belly, and he knew it would not be long before her child—her bloomling, he corrected himself-would be born.

  “Yes,” Irie said. “It will be soon.”

  “Will-the father-be coming back before then?” Goodman asked. “I do not think Garlen is going to return. Calla and I, and the new bloomling, will have to survive by ourselves. But it will be all right, Goodman. We will have help from the Grove. It will be all right.”

  Goodman thought it sounded like Irie was trying to convince herself. “You bet it will,” he said. “You’re both coming with me.”

  Irie’s eyes widened. “Are you sure?” Next to her, Calla broke into a grin. “Yeah,” Goodman said. “I am. Now let’s get just what you need, because we’ll have to carry it back to the camp-and then we’re going to get out of here.”

  “What-what about Annah?” Irie asked. “I have been sure that you cared for her.” That’s not the problem. “Annah has her own life. And she belongs to someone else. Come on now; let’s get your things.”

  * * * By the time Goodman, Irie, and Calla were on their way back to the campsite, the light had nearly faded from the sky. Not the best time to leave, he thought, but I’ve made night-lifts before. I’ve got to go before Annah gets back. Too complicated. She’s said before she doesn’t care if I stay or go. She loves Holder. Do I love Irie? I’m not sure. But she and Calla need me, and that’s sure as hell more than I’ve got anywhere else. He looked over at Irie, clutching his hand, and Calla, holding hers. “You two okay?”

  “We are fine, Goodman,” Irie said, her violet eyes gleaming at him, nearly the same color as the sunset above. “Tell me, did your mother name you that?” “She named me Kale,” he said. “‘Goodman’ is a family name. It came from my father, and his father.”

  “Goodman,” Irie said again. “No matter where the name came from, it fits you.” “Thanks,” he told her, smiling. In another moment, he could see the campsite in the distance. Something looked wrong, though. There was no fire. And something was wrong. Holder’s Recon ship was still here—but the stealthcraft the Maestro had found for Goodman when he left Holdfast nearly a month before—it was gone. And there was no sign ofAnnah, anywhere. “Oh, shit.”

  “What is wrong, Goodman?” Irie asked. “Hold on,” he said, fumbling around in the ship’s cockpit. He punched the switch on the shipboard ‘com’s messaging system. Sure enough, he thought, as Annah’s voice began speaking.

  “Kale, I am sorry. For many things. I am sorry that I have kept you here, when you might have done more good back on Holdfast. I am sorry that I did not merely tell you to leave, long ago. And now I am leaving, for I have seen that my world will have no peace while I am here. Serra is dead, and I have been blamed for it. Those who fear Shaping see this as a final sign of its dangers. A few members of my Circle-Chelries and Liara, Keleth, Tieri, and Tenar-have come with me. The ones who fear Shapers-they think it is only I who have any strength in the Craft. Charan-Chelries’ brother, who is staying on my world to help watch over the others-he has made sure they know no different. A few others from our Circle have stayed behind with him to continue the task I told Holder I would complete if I could.”

  What task? Goodman thought, just as Annah’s voice continued from the ‘com.

  “The task of restoring Shaping to Evohe,”Annah said. “The task of reminding my people of themselves. They are beginning to remember—and when they have, I will come back, with the others, and with Holder, and our world will be what it was before the Breaking, and perhaps even more. I am sure I will see you again.”

  But where the hell are you going? “When you return to Holdfast-if that is what you plan to do-you will find me there. Before she died, Serra told me that Holder is there. She said he was ‘wearing the name and face of another man.’ I do not know precisely wh
at that means, but I will find out. And I will find him. He helped me to find my place. He loved me, when the only others who did were gone from me. And I still love him.”

  There was another moment of silence, and then she spoke again, like an afterthought. “Holder’s ship is fixed. I made the last repairs myself. I am sorry I took yours, but it would not have been big enough for all of us. Thank you for not leaving the security lock on.”

  Damn, Goodman thought, laughing to himself.

  “I will meet you on Holdfast, if it is the First Ones’ will that I reach it. A safe journey to you, Kale. Every road I have taken, every choice I have made, has led me to where I am, and given me the strength to do what I have done. And now I can see the Sea of Stars shining all around me, as Holder told me I would one day.”

  Goodman smiled to himself, wondering how Annah liked what she saw. “It is just as I imagined it would be, as I sat on one of the great stones at my parents’ homeground long ago, looking up into the night. It is as beautiful as I have dared to dream.”

  “Write what you know,” they say.

  I don’t think there’s a choice. For better or worse, the things we care about—our dreams, our passions, our principles, find their way into the stories we tell, and the characters who populate them.

  This story’s no different. It began, as all good stories do, with real experiences; real relationships, real people, and the traces they left on my life. As the story became its own tale, so too did the people who inspired it melt into the echoes that may still remain on these pages. It was first published in 2013 by PDMI Publishing, LLC. The edition you hold in your hands is a new one, re-edited, revised and expanded for its publication by Dark Moon Press. But the story within its pages is the same: the story of a young woman who, although an outcast, finds belonging; although she is told not to dream, has her own goals, and achieves them. It’s a story I happen to know has been inspiring to some real-life girls and young women out there, and I hope it continues to be. But it is a story I hope will have meaning and inspiration for all who open its pages, no matter their race, creed, color, gender, sexual preference, nationality or age. I hope this is a tale that transcends borders and boundaries. Lofty goals perhaps, for a story about a girl from another world; a story that can’t hope to be ‘just the facts.” But this is also a story that, I hope, still retains a measure of truth—if not fact— within its pages. Truth and facts are different things. The latter can be manipulated; the former, I believe, never can. Here are some truths I know:

  We live in a world of outcasts, born into the safe harbor of a mother’s arms, and alone until we find those who make us feel we belong, and until we find inside ourselves that calling that shows us how we can help to make the world a better place.

  We live in a world of walls, where we spend most of our time either being unhappy ourselves, or thinking of reasons why others should be unhappy, too. “Follow your bliss,” the key words of wisdom penned by mythologist Joseph Campbell, might as well be words in a language no longer spoken on twenty-first century Earth.

  But we live in a world of wonders, too; where all of us have the potential to be what Annah’s people call Shapers, using our own inner gifts and insights to see the world as a better place and by seeing, make it so. If you remember anything from this story, remember that.

  Find your love and follow it, and don’t let anyone tell you you’re wrong. As for me, Annah tells me she has more stories for you. Two more books of them have been written already. They’re called Annah and the Exiles and Annah and the Gates of Grace. Rest assured, they’ll be coming soon.

  May the dream-winds blow fairly on you all, from the shores of the spirit-river, Essei-Khai.

  Until we meet again.

  -Clay Gilbert, Knoxville, Tennessee, 2017.