Magic's Genesis- The Grey

by Rosaire Bushey

  Her hair, liker her skin, was black like onyx and straight, but tied simply with string in an intricate braided pattern that produced a stunning oak leaf effect that started from the back of her head and continued past her shoulder blades where it was tucked under her snug top. The tunic itself was a work of art, made primarily of light brown, supple and flexible leather, it fitted her body and hugged her torso to fall over her hips and waist freely. The design was clever and would have taken a long time for even a skilled seamstress as it seemed to be made specifically for Haidrea’s form.

  On her back Haidrea carried a short bow, like a cavalry bow. It was unstrung and hung so as not to impede her movement in any way. Like her clothes, the weapon looked to have been made to fit her form. Sewn into the back of her tunic, there was an extra layer of hide, where the black feathers of six short arrows were cleverly placed. It was not a situation that would allow for the rapid deployment of the weapon, but it spared having to carry a quiver and the noise it would cause.

  Unlike many women, but like Lydria, Haidrea wore her clothing in the fashion of men with leggings instead of a dress. It made practical sense for a warrior or a hunter. Exposed skin in the forest was susceptible to everything from insect bites to thorns and a dress made noise and caught on foliage.

  “Where are we going?” Lydria asked after noticing the faded yellow sun settling in the sky. “It must be getting late.”

  “The moon has risen over the hills and the sun is on its way to bed,” Haidrea answered. “We will camp here. You are tired, and we have some distance to travel.” With no more said, Haidrea stopped to gather sticks for a fire in a small clearing. After their sparse camp was made Lydria lay down with her back to a tree and when she woke up, Haidrea was smiling and holding out breakfast. “The sun is up, and we should be on our way.”

  Still stiff, but feeling better with the food, the two traveled east and slightly north. The cub occasionally wandered into the woods but if he was fed, he seemed content to spend most of his time riding on Lydria’s shoulders.

  They walked the whole day and the next and as the sun started to set for the third time, Haidrea stopped and waited for Lydria to stand by her. “We will soon be challenged by our scouts. Keep the cat close.”

  Their pace slowed, and the tree roots were a nuisance to Lydria who tried not to jostle the bobcat too much lest she become a pin cushion for his claws. Occasionally she thought she heard Haidrea whisper for her to be careful and so she tried to follow her guide’s lead. Haidrea never missed a stride; she flowed like smoke over the terrain and finally came to a full stop and turned her head to Lydria. In the growing darkness the whites of Haidrea’s eyes shone brightly and she closed one quickly, winking at Lydria and warning her to pay close attention.

  “You can come out Nethyal, I can smell the rabbit you had for dinner. I hope you saved me some; I bring guests and we are hungry.”

  Almost imperceptible footfalls came from the darkness by a birch tree where a man appeared with the same easy stride Lydria had found so remarkable in Haidrea. “Ah, sister, your skill will continue to amaze me as it will continue to ensure no one takes you for a wife.” The tone was not remonstrative; in fact, Lydria heard the love the man had for Haidrea in his tone. It was caring, chiding, and respectful all at the same time. After hugging his sister, he turned toward Lydria and stopped, pausing for a moment to stare at her. Taking a step backward so he was next to Haidrea again, he spoke to his sister in the language of the Eifen, a gentle and soft language that made Lydria think of a spring breeze. There were few harsh sounds as they spoke, and she realized even the language of the Eifen was quiet and at home in the forest.

  The cat around Lydria’s neck stopped purring and Haidrea laughed. It was the first time Lydria had heard her laugh and unlike all her skills and muscles, the laugh belonged to a woman; it pealed across the trees like a small creek released from winter’s embrace. But it was short lived and replaced with a less delicate snort when the cat lifted his head and Nethyal took a quick step back, instinctively raising his spear to a defensive position.

  “Are you going to kill our guests before I can introduce them properly, then? I think father would find disgrace in such a welcome. Come, let us get home so I can tell you of my journey.”

  Lydria followed as quietly as she was able and watched Nethyal make quick, uneasy glances in her direction, finally stopping in the trail and turning to her just as the cat opened his mouth and let out a crackling, barely audible mewl of a noise. “Gods, how is this, then,” he turned to his sister. “How is it that you walk from the ash rain and come back with a kingdom woman who carries a bobcat like a cloak?”

  “First fire and food, and then we will speak. I will tell our story to Wae Ilsit, for I fear there is more here than a cub who has lost its mother.” They walked, treading lightly but no longer silent as Nethyal and his sister continued to converse in the language of Wesolk. After half a mile, Lydria guessed, she began to see the soft glow of fires as if they were hidden by a piece of cloth. A man came out and spoke to Nethyal briefly before running back through the trees to signal their arrival.

  When they reached the edge of the village, the people of Eifynar were waiting in two lines that provided a path to the center of the village where they met a man wearing clothes very much like Haidrea and Nethyal. Unlike the others, however, he also wore what looked like an amulet around his neck. It was not gold but shimmered in the setting sun and firelight. The amulet captivated Lydria. It fit the man’s shape almost perfectly, covering his collarbone under his tunic, and the base of his throat.

  Only the sound of Haidrea’s voice dragged her attention away from the man’s neck. “Wae Ilsit,” Haidrea said clearly, formally hugging the man before turning to another, older man beside him who wore a tunic with long sleeves and who leaned heavily on a carved staff, and offered him the same, deliberate, respectful hug. “Drae Ghern. I bring to Eifynar a woman with two spirits and a cub who has befriended her. Lydria, this is Wae Ilsit, the leader of the Eifen east of the Great Lake, sire of Nethyal and Haidrea; and this is Drae Ghern, our Graetongue, oldest and wisest of us all, keeper of many stories, sire of Wae Ilsit, and my grandfather.”

  SIX

  Haidrea stepped aside and motioned for Lydria. The cat stopped purring and sniffed hopefully at the air, catching the scent of food drifting across the street from different directions. As he sniffed, he stood by Lydria’s head kneading his claws into her shoulders. The woman held back any indication of pain caused by cub, sensing a show of strength would reflect well upon her host, and following the lead of Nethyal whom she had watched greet Wae Ilsit and Drae Ghern, she touched her right hand to her heart and lips and extended her fingers, palms up toward the elders. The older of the two men smiled faintly and motioned her forward to greet her as he had Haidrea.

  With formal greetings finished, Wae Ilsit looked at Lydria and then past her down the street. “It is time for food and then we shall hear what stories Haidrea and Lydria have to share,” he told the people gathered outside, who parted and went to their homes, leaving small trace of their passage on the ash-covered path. As they left, Lydria got her first good look at Eifynar. The Eifen town was similar to Bayside only in that they held large numbers of people. There were no roads, but clean and natural dirt paths that lead to homes built inside of trees. No, Lydria realized, they weren’t inside of trees, they were made of wood as were the homes of Bayside, but they were skillfully and thoughtfully crafted so that they became a part of the forest instead of a replacement for the forest.

  “You have never seen Eifynar?” Haidrea stood by Lydria’s side and stroked the cats’ ears. “You should see it in the height of summer or when the snow is banked high. It is a lovely place. I will show you more of it tomorrow, but for now, we must go into the chief’s hall.” Lydria turned and smiled at Haidrea and they walked down the road where Wae Ilsit and Drae Ghern were already entering a building that to Lydria looked like a path into the forest
.

  Inside the hall it was bright and warm with firelight and torches. Everything Lydria saw seemed to be made of wood and stone and soil, and it was created with exacting craftsmanship that allowed the light of fires to stay inside, but smoke to drift out through unseen vents. Men and women were moving carved chairs and wooden stumps into positions around planks that served as tables. Others brought food from a kitchen at the back, and some brought food from outside. When the chairs were settled and planks in place, those who didn’t have a seat made themselves comfortable on the ground or around the walls.

  Haidrea leaned close to Lydria and pointed upward and around the building to small spaces where shutters were being opened. Outside on tree branches those who couldn’t fit in the hall were finding seats until it seemed like everyone must be waiting to hear what the newcomers had to say.

  Drae Ghern sat on a chair at the far end of the room, indicating Lydria should sit between he and Wae Ilsit while Haidrea sat to Drae Ghern’s left. As they reached their seats, women and children served meat and fruit, root vegetables, and a corn-based bread from wooden bowls. Each place at the plank had metal spoons and knives that were among the most delicately carved and beautiful pieces Lydria had ever seen. Skins and bowls of fresh water were passed, and horn and bone cups were given to the four in honored positions.

  The cub, whose tiny claws were drawing blood from Lydria’s shoulder by this time, was far better behaved than any wild animal could hope to be, and it was a great surprise when a dish of raw meat found its way to Lydria and the cat launched itself off her shoulder and onto the plank, his small tail swishing back and forth as it worried its dinner. Lydria thought she heard a voice say, thank you, and turned to add her own thanks to that of Drae Ghern to the child who had brought the cat’s dinner.

  Wae Ilsit’s voice grabbed her attention and he indicated with his hand the bobcat who was by now making low, growling noises as he ate. “Your friend looks hungry.” Wae Ilsit smiled at the cub and then gently to Lydria as the cat continued to growl in warning to anyone who might be tempted to steal his meal. As more meat appeared, his growling stopped and, ignoring the audience that watched, he turned his back to the rest of the hall and ate his meal in peace on the table next to Lydria’s own plate.

  Drae Ghern and Wae Ilsit looked across Lydria to each other and the graetongue put down his cup. “Haidrea, come forward. You have brought us two remarkable guests and we would hear your story.”

  A young girl brought a finely carved wooden chair with a deep cushion and placed it in front of the table where Wae Ilsit and Drae Ghern sat. Haidrea sat down, placing her elbows on her knees as if considering her story, and soon, Lydria noted, the crowd had gathered, children to the front, in a great semi-circle. The noises of dinner began to fade as the Eifen pushed aside their plates and turned their attention to Haidrea who waited only for the graetongue to finish speaking with Lydria.

  “The telling of stories is very important. All stories told here will be written down and put aside in the tree of knowledge. As the years pass, some of this information can be re-examined. Some of our oldest stories, traditions, myths and legends have been created from stories that start just as this will. They provide guidance, and a link to our past, and are useful to look upon in times of trouble.”

  “Do you think there will be trouble?” Lydria asked, sure of the answer as she remembered Wynter at the crater.

  “Trouble happens when people who have lost their way, meet others who have lost theirs. When these two souls find each other, neither can be sure of the other and great sadness often follows.”

  As Drae Ghern finished, the crowd settled and Haidrea began her story, telling the quiet ranks of Eifen how the kingdom men and the wagons made a tremendous crashing noise along the forest road which she heard even from a great distance. She told of how she noticed the strange behavior of animals in the area as they fled and could be heard no more. She recited Lydria’s story of how the kingdom men chased the archer into the trees; and the grit of the woman who calmly pulled an arrow from her hand and deftly pocketed her finger and dressed her wound. At this she paused as all eyes turned toward Lydria and she somewhat proudly held up her left hand, wrapped in leafy bandage of Haidrea’s making.

  Haidrea continued Lydria’s tale of the bowman’s cowardly murder of the horse soldier followed by his own capture, before pausing again to take up her own story. “The air became numb and the hairs on my arm stood up as if searching for the sun,” she told her audience, paying special attention the children. “My chest was heavy as if the air were water and then, at the same time, the sun was no more and the forest in front of me vanished.”

  The village had heard the impact and had seen a very light dusting of ash filter through the trees of their homes the first day. It was not as thick in Eifynar owing largely to the wind which pushed the ash to the west. Aside from the ash, however, there was no evidence in the city of what had happened. Hearing of this strike from the heavens, all the Eifen rested more easily knowing the source of the ash rain.

  “When I lifted my head from the wall of rock that shielded me, I saw a forest the size of many grazing lands cut down as if by the scythe of the gods. The kingdom men were gone. Their horses were gone. The wagons were gone. I moved forward through the broken forest and I saw a man rise from amongst the trees. He looked as if he had come from the ground, so covered with dirt and mud were his clothes and skin. Even from where I crouched, I could feel a dark presence about him, as if a spirit not his own moved his legs forward. I prepared my bow to rid the land of his darkness and then saw another rise from the ash,” and she nodded again toward Lydria, and smiled, showing a set of beautiful teeth perched delicately below cheekbones that, under the firelight, made Lydria feel warm and cared for, as if her father were staring at her.

  Haidrea told the Eifen of how Lydria and Wynter met in the crater and after a few minutes, how Wynter had left limping toward the north, and how Lydria had climbed out, found the bobcat and then fallen asleep under a golden light. “This woman stood up to and cowed a murderer, and then she turned to her other spirit and comforted this broken cub, and his body shone as if the sun hid behind him instead of behind the clouds of ash and ruin. When the light ebbed, the cub jumped to his feet, but Lydria fell to the ground. That is when we met. When she awoke, I could see she was possessed of two spirits – the strong and the gentle.”

  The crowd was unsure if the story were finished but turned their heads slowly to Lydria who seemed to be asleep. She was sitting with her eyes closed, thinking of Haidrea’s story realizing that the light was real, and that she had, somehow, healed the cub. It didn’t make sense and the Eifen shifted uneasily as they waited for the story to continue. Lydria opened her eyes and found scores of men, women and children staring at her. Where they had looked at her with curiosity and compassion earlier, they now looked at her with interest and respect.

  “Our guests are tired. We will speak more of this in the cleansing light of day. Lydria,” the word came easily to his tongue as Wae Ilsit spoke it. He was clearly fluent with the language of Wesolk. “You will stay in our home this evening with my daughter and Drae Ghern.”

  “My son,” Drae Ghern interrupted before Lydria could find her feet. “Let me first speak with this child. She is tired, but she is also wounded. She has lost a part of herself and bears the marks of a warrior’s courage. We owe her a debt for the story.”

  “You are wise and teach me still, father. You are correct. Lydria, my manners are lacking. Please, tend to your wounds. Tomorrow we will speak again.” Wae Ilsit embraced her with the greeting he shared with Haidrea and turned away to his home at the opposite end of town from where she had entered.

  Haidrea waited as the children were coaxed away from her by their parents. Drae Ghern led Lydria to a small building between two large maples. Although made of wood and stone, the chief’s home was soft and comfortable. Inside it was warm and thick with the smell of smoldering wood from a
fireplace in a back corner where the remnants of a fire glowed red, and a chimney made of a dark stone funneled the smoke out. Around the small house there were several chairs and a bench near a handsome wooden table, carved around the edges with leaves and small animals. Nearby there was a reed basket with blankets and animal furs. Stairs led to an alcove of a second level where Lydria guessed Drae Ghern kept his bed, and the old man explained that his rooms were attached to those of his son and grandchildren through another door.

  Motioning Lydria to a soft, low chair by the fire, Drae Ghern sat next to her on a plain bench and they faced one another with their knees nearly touching. The bobcat had made himself at home in the basket of furs and was just settling down after kneading his bed as Lydria began to relax.

  “You’ll be fine.”

  In the dimly lit room Lydria didn’t see Drae Ghern speak, but in the time they’d shared, she thought his voice was thicker and deeper than what she had just heard. It had been a very confusing day. The old man murmured to himself as he crushed together several plants and liquids in a bowl. Having seen army surgeons do similar things, she knew he was creating a medicine or poultice, probably for her finger, so she waited patiently not wanting to interrupt the rhythm of his song, for almost surely, he was singing rather than talking.

  His voice was low and slow as he chanted words that were strange but made her think of trees and plants, sun and rain, and the smells of a spring morning in the sunshine. As he finished his song, he took her left hand in his and carefully unwrapped her bandage. “You are not unskilled in the healing arts.” He said it as if confirming the information to himself, but Lydria offered that she had some experience with needle and thread with the wounded but that Haidrea had tended her wound while she slept the first night.