When he gazed at the bird, it was as if he could sense the air beneath his body. When staring at the man, he knew instinctively he was a falconer and could understand the connection he held with his beautiful feathered friend. And when he studied the mountain, he could feel a joy at being home to majestic creatures great and small, and could see the hawk circle its top. The piece of artwork wasn’t just something to look at, enjoy, and ponder; it was something that somehow transmitted feelings and senses, and he was mesmerised by it. He was annoyed at Kasha when she finally tore him away. But her enthusiasm was irrepressible, and he found it impossible to stay cross with her for long.
Every so often, Kasha would stop and sing another piece, and each time he would be transported to another place: flying through the clouds; standing atop tall mountains; sailing the sea’s waves; exploring the darkest caverns of the earth. Each song was completely different, yet each had a strangely magical effect.
“Where do the background sounds come from?” he asked after one performance. “They don’t seem to be coming from your throat, but they’re there when you sing.”
“It is from all around me,” she replied with her wide smile. “I use the wind, or the birds, or the rustle of leaves, or whatever nature is offering, and tune them to my song.”
That seemed to be all the explanation he could get from her, and eventually he gave up.
After some time, they ran into Aneh. His pulse quickened when he saw her. He had never seen her in a dress before, and the one she wore now, although sharing the same off-white colour of the shirt she usually wore, was self-patterned and carried delicate images of forest animals and flowers. Though not tight fitting, it was beautifully shaped, reminding Michael that this was a woman he had befriended – not a girl. Her hair was tied in French plaits above each of her ears, the plaits joining at the back of her head, with green ribbon carefully woven through it.
“You look… well, you look great,” he complimented. “Your hair is…”
“The same as mine!” interrupted Kasha.
It was only when Michael suddenly looked at Kasha’s angry face that he realised that her hair was done in the same style as Aneh’s, and that she too was wearing a dress with similar patterns on it. In fact, when he looked around, he noticed that unusually almost all of the women were wearing dresses today, and had taken care with their hair. Odd, he thought, that he hadn’t noticed.
“Sorry, Kasha,” he apologised.
“Hmph,” she said as she folded her arms, before a small smile crept across her face. “You two have known each other for less than half a moon and already are besotted with each other.”
She walked off at that, leaving Michael and Aneh alone in the crowd where they hoped that only they would notice each other’s blushing faces, but they quickly busied themselves with their own tour of the wide range of excitement on offer. Michael knew that it was silly to think of Aneh as anything more than a friend, having known her for such a short time. They had shared some remarkable and personal experiences with each other that had inevitably created a bond of friendship, but even if his feelings ever developed any further in the future, he knew that Aneh couldn’t reciprocate. She was a prized and respected Healing Weaver within their Waylet, and her mother the Sooth Weaver to their Lora. He knew she would never develop feelings for a strange orphan boy who knew nothing of Aylosia. And so he quickly covered the thoughts and feelings that had arisen from Kasha’s words with the wonders of the Weavings he was seeing for the first time.
He wasn’t sure whether his self-determined task to ignore Kasha’s comment was made easier or more difficult when they bumped into Devu.
“Devu!” cried Aneh, as she ran to embrace him.
The Sword Weaver’s smile was broad. “Are you enjoying the festival?” he asked.
“Oh, yes. It is a marvel.”
Michael’s stomach churned seeing Aneh enjoying Devu’s company, and he turned away, immediately inspecting the trinkets displayed on the nearby table. He tried to block out the conversation behind him, but found it impossible.
“Perhaps one day such preparations will be made in our honour,” said Devu.
“Oh, Devu. Stop speaking of it. You will find a woman far more suited to you soon enough.”
Aneh’s response cut him, and he closed his eyes. While her words rejected her tall friend, Michael was sure they were said playfully. They confirmed that it was only a matter of time until she fell to Devu’s charms.
What does it matter, anyway? he asked himself. We’re never going to be more than friends, so she can Entwine with whoever she likes. Whether it’s Devu or anyone else, it doesn’t matter.
But his thoughts were ignored by the feeling in his chest, the ache getting stronger as he heard Aneh and Devu laugh.
“You must meet me after the Entwining,” Devu said.
“I will,” replied Aneh.
There was a pause and Aneh appeared at Michael’s side, tugging at his arm so that she could continue their tour. Michael forced a smile to his face, pretending to both Aneh and himself that the exchange he had overheard was unimportant to him.
After Devu left them, they sampled a variety of foods for their lunch, Michael able to taste a host of different food combinations that he hadn’t come across before. Occasionally, he would come across something he liked, although usually he couldn’t be certain, the flavours being too foreign for him. Anything by a Food Weaver was guaranteed to be delicious, of course, but Aneh said that there were only three Food Weavers in the Waylet, so most of what they sampled had been by members of their camp who enjoyed cooking or who were simply talented.
After they ate, Aneh began to tell Michael about Talor and Relka: the two who were to be Entwined. They were both friends, she explained, and so today was particularly exciting.
“Talor and Relka?” Michael said, “They don’t sound like the names that Arevu used when she talked about the Entwining.
“Oh, I am sorry,” Aneh replied, “There is so much you still do not know of us, and I forget to explain. Talor and Relka is what they are called, but Arevu used their names: Pashatalor, and Anurelka.”
When Aneh said no more, appearing to think that she had provided enough of an explanation, Michael questioned further, “Um… Nope, you’ve got me again I’m afraid. I don’t really understand.”
Aneh looked confused for a minute, and then seemed to remember the brief conversation they had when Michael had first arrived in their land when he had similarly seemed confused about the same subject. “Please forgive me, Michael. My mind is distracted today with the Entwining, and I had forgotten that you already did not know of our customs. When a child is born, their name will include a part of their mother’s name. In my case, my name is Anehlohka.
“That is why the Hafashal asked you about your mother,” she explained. “If the Lora had known your mother’s name, perhaps they could have identified from where you came.”
It made sense, and Michael immediately saw the connection with Lohka, but wanted to be sure he understood “So does that mean that Kasha’s full name is Kashalohka?”
“No. My mother’s name is Lohkasha,” Aneh explained. “So my name includes a part of her name – Lohka – and my sister’s name includes a different part – Kasha. But our names are usually used only on formal occasions.”
“So your name is Anehlohka, but you have chosen to be called Aneh. Your mother’s name is Lohkasha, but she’s chosen to be called Lohka. And Kasha’s name is… something longer than Kasha, but she’s chosen to be called Kasha. Is that right? Would boys have part of their father’s name instead?”
“My sister’s name is Kashaveh. You seem to understand now, and I am pleased.” Aneh seemed happy that Michael now grasped the custom, although she continued, “But boys also have a part of their mother’s name, not their father’s. I do not understand why a boy would use his father’s name when it is his mother who gives him life.”
Michael didn’t know how to answe
r her, having never given it much thought. “Well, I don’t know really. It’s just a custom where I come from that in addition to your first name – so that’s Michael for me – we would also get what we call a surname, which would usually be the same surname as our father. So Arevu asking about my mother really wouldn’t have achieved anything even if I knew who she was. I didn’t really have a surname of course. Or at least I don’t know what it was, so when I needed one I just used Rob’s, which was Levington. But why we traditionally use the father’s name and not the mother’s, I really don’t know.” A part of Michael still felt that his mother was in this strange world, but he hadn’t been prepared to share that even with Aneh yet.
They asked only a few more questions of each other before they were both sure that they understood. Michael decided that in the end, it wasn’t overly complicated; more a case of using words a little differently to the way he was used to, but he knew he would need to remember to ask people what they were called and not their name, as they had different meanings.
Not long afterwards the partying atmosphere began to die away, and gradually people started to drift towards the forest. Kasha found them and together the three of them joined the informal progression, eventually arriving at a clearing large enough for the five hundred people or so to sit or stand, surrounded on all sides by the tall trees; their branches having allowed half of their colourful clothing to carpet the forest floor.
Aneh and Kasha had positioned their small group near enough the front of the congregation to be able to sit on the forest floor and still witness proceedings, some of their friends also joining them, and after walking for several hours Michael was grateful to be able to rest his legs.
The ground was slightly inclined and before long an older man dressed in a long white robe stood in front of the gathered group. The colour of his beard matched his garment, and Michael wondered if he was some sort of Priest. He carried a small round drum, and after carefully hitting his wrist against it three times, the crowd fell silent.
“My name is Eridoshar,” he called in a loud voice that held no evidence of his age. “I am Soul Weaver, and act today at the behest of two whose souls have chosen to become one.”
He continued for several minutes describing the wonder of Entwining; the solemnity of the occasion. He described that the two people the congregation would shortly see had made their choice not due to the fancies of youth, but having deeply pondered the implications of their decision. Part of Michael wanted to be bored at the speech and to find the long explanations tedious. But he had heard Aneh speak in reverent tones of the Entwining and knew it was something that she and the other young women of the Elahish yearned for. He didn’t know whether he would ever return to England, or whether he was destined to live the rest of his life in Aylosia, but just in case he realised he ought to know of this custom that was so important to them. And so he worked hard to concentrate on the words being spoken.
When Eridoshar had finished speaking, he made a gesture and simultaneously the woman – Relka – was led from the trees at Michael’s left to stand in front of the Sooth Weaver; the man – Talor – from the right. Each was accompanied by their mother.
What struck Michael most from the scene, however, was their attire. Up until now, he had seen only clothes that were coloured from vegetation. The Plant and Cloth Weavers used the materials available to them, apparently only altering their colours for parts of their tents. Their clothes were therefore creams, tans, and autumnal colours. Green leaves were seemingly reserved for their dwellings.
But for the couple standing before the congregation today it was different. Relka wore a full-length dress, coloured deep green at the base and gradually changing to a rich dark blue above the waist, from which shone silver stars. There were hints of birds scattered amongst the branches of a tree that stretched from her feet to her breast, its branches angling to her right, reaching towards the man with whom she would Entwine. Talor’s long gown mirrored that of Relka’s, though the colours were a lighter shade, and the stars were replaced by a sun’s rays. As they stood together, it was as if the branches of the trees they wore on their clothing had begun the ceremony, reaching for each other.
As the Soul Weaver next directed Talor to repeat the ceremonial words, Michael listened closely.
“I am Pashatalor.
The words I speak are for thee alone Anurelka,
though others here may bear witness.
The yearning of my heart is that we may become one,
for my soul is but half a soul without it being bound to thine.
I have found one who would weave our souls together
in a unity that will last beyond death and through the eternities.
Thus, if it meets with thy approval,
I give myself to thee and to no other.
From this day,
my body is thine;
my thoughts are thine;
my heart is thine.
No part of my being is withheld.
All that I have and will have;
all that I am and will be;
from this day, henceforth and forever
I give thee willingly.
No longer am I whole without thee at my side
and in my heart.
May Ashael’s grace attend us.”
After Relka had repeated the same words, the couple’s mothers stepped forward, both with tears on their cheeks. Each handed to their child a coloured oval-shaped stone that fit easily into the palms of their hands. The one now held by Relka softly glowed a lush green colour; Talor’s a brilliant blue. The slim rays of sun that broke through the trees seemed to reflect off tiny points on each piece of rock, causing them to glisten.
At the sight of them, Michael’s blood rushed; his heartbeat sped. He didn’t know why, but there was something about them that drew him. It was as if the feelings that he had known as he had flown to this land – the peace and joy; a feeling that he was loved – were emanating from them, filling his heart.
The young couple turned to face each other, then placed the palms that held their glowing stones against each other’s so that the small rocks were touching. Next they gently placed their free hands on top of the back of the other’s so that their hands themselves appeared woven together. Finally, the Sooth Weaver then cupped their hands in his own. “I have heard the pleas of these two who would be as one. I will Weave their souls.”
As Talor and Relka looked in each other’s eyes, Michael expected the Soul Weaver to speak more, but instead there was silence. The couple’s gaze was one of excited anticipation, while Eridoshar closed his eyes in concentration. At first nothing happened, but slowly the look in the expressions of the two changed. The thrilled expectation that had been painted on their faces was being replaced. The joy was still in their eyes, but somehow Michael thought it was changing from one of innocence and naivety to one of… understanding. Occasionally, one of the other’s eyes would widen slightly as if in wonder, and then settle again. When they had first faced each other, Michael thought that their expressions for each other were those of newlyweds, but after what must have been five minutes their gazes looked more like those of a couple who had learned every secret of each other over a lifetime of faithful companionship.
He looked briefly at Aneh, his eyes questioning what was happening, but her wet eyes were fixed on the scene before them; spellbound by the silent drama of the Soul Weaving. Scanning past her, he saw Kasha was equally moved by the events.
The smack of the Soul Weaver’s wrist against the drum couldn’t even break the spell, although all bar Relka and Talor looked again at him as he called, “Their Souls have been Woven. Pashatalor and Anurelka are Entwined, and no power on earth or in heaven may now break their bond.” He looked directly at the young couple, a kind smile giving a radiance to his face, “May Ashael’s grace, which has been bestowed bounteously on us today, forever fill your hearts.”
With a final bang of his wrist on the small dru
m, it was finished, and he led the newly Entwined couple away from the crowd.
There was no clapping or cheering as the couple departed with the Soul Weaver. All remained sitting or standing, the solemnity of the Entwining ensuring a reverent quiet was maintained. It was only when a baby behind him made a short cry that Michael realised that even the children had been silent throughout.
They stayed like that for several minutes, before slowly one, then two people left the clearing. Michael was finally able to catch Aneh’s attention as she wiped tears from her eyes. Kasha stood and left with her friends, and as others also then drifted off, the two of them were eventually alone.
“Do you begin to glimpse?” she asked him with a thoughtful smile on her face.
He didn’t respond immediately, not sure what to think, but eventually replied to her, “I really don’t know what to say. It was… certainly different. I’ve never seen anything like it.” He continued, though still struggling for words, “It seemed like… I don’t know. Something changed them, didn’t it? Something the Soul Weaver did.”
“They do not merely see each other’s souls now,” Aneh explained, again wiping her eyes. “They share each other’s souls. How could that not change them?”
“What were the stones?” he asked. “There was something about them. I felt something when I saw them.”
“They are Kerid stones,” she answered. She didn’t wait for Michael’s confused silence this time before beginning her explanation, “When Ashael left this land a thousand summers past, she imbued certain stones with her grace before she departed. They are found in few locations, and when discovered are kept hidden so that they do not become despoiled. They are known by the soft glows that you witnessed, but you may also feel them in your heart.”
Dreams and Shadows (The Aylosian Chronicles Book 1) Page 14