Kimi moved to Lydria’s bed and kneaded the furs before turning twice in a circle and lying down with his spine resting against her stomach and breasts. “Good night, Kimi,” Lydria thought absently, scratching the cub’s ears.
“Good night,” he replied. “And don’t scratch so hard, your claws are not as soft as you think.”
With that, both surrendered to their dreams, while several feet away Haidrea and her grandfather spoke quietly.
When morning came, Lydria woke feeling better than she had in ages. Kimi was nowhere to be seen, but judging by the noises outside, he was entertaining some of the children and she could hear his low growls punctuated with laughter and the running of small feet in mock terror.
“Come out and get some breakfast before I eat it all.” The cat’s voice entered her head cleanly, but more quietly than normal. Perhaps, like a real voice, the further away he was the fainter would be his voice. Lydria wondered if one could yell silently.
“Of course. You just have to think how you want it to sound.”
“Can you read my mind? I wasn’t talking to you.” Lydria tried to sound indignant, but she enjoyed the cat’s presence, both physical and mental.
“If you concentrate, you can tell what I’m thinking too, but that won’t get you far unless you’re interested in food or sleep. So, in some ways, yes, we can read each other’s minds. But, I believe you could also stop me from doing so if you wish.”
Lydria laughed out loud. She couldn’t imagine blocking out Kimi.
“So, you are awake, nearly in time to watch the sun begin its descent toward the western hills.”
“Good morning, Haidrea, I must have been very tired.”
“And so you were. Grandfather says rest is often the best of all the medicines. The Eifen council waits in the great hall. When you are ready there is food as well.”
As she turned to leave, Haidrea stared at Lydria for a few seconds as if she wanted to say something, but the moment passed, and she pushed open the wooden door.
“You’d better hurry,” Kimi said. “The council is gathering, and I’ve only got to make it past three stern looking ladies to have a second breakfast – yours.”
Lydria left the house and found Kimi in the street. She gently pushed him to his back and rubbed his stomach. “You’re not such a bad kitten, are you? Little kitten.” The children laughed when they saw how gentle Kimi was and as Lydria moved toward Drae Ghern and Wae Ilsit, the youngsters moved in.
“Don’t hurt them, Kimi.”
“I’ll get you…” The rest of his thought was buried in a wave of happiness as small hands eagerly sought out his belly, ears, and chin to tickle and scratch until the cat’s purr could be heard by anyone nearby.
“Good morning Wielder.” It was Drae Ghern who approached first and greeted her with the formal greeting he had shared with Haidrea. Following the graetongue’s lead, Wae Ilsit also greeted her as did Haidrea and her brother Nethyal. The formal greeting from the siblings was unexpected.
Indicating the great hall where they had eaten the previous evening the four entered and found most of the tables and benches had been removed. Now there was a long table with only a few chairs clustered at the far end. By one chair there were bowls of food and Haidrea invited Lydria to sit. The hall was dark and cool, lit only by the light from cleverly designed windows. As it was near mid-day the foliage of the trees blocked most of the light from entering the hall. Only in early morning and before the sun set did the room have full natural light.
“Father tells me the spirits call you wielder. We will call you Lydria, but do not be surprised if many among us choose to call you wielder in deference to the word of the spirits. So, you have two souls, you now have two names.” Wae Ilsit, in the light, was not much older than Lydria’s own father and the two shared the same rugged intensity and even temperament that marked the leaders of men. But where Cargile had grown large and heavy as he aged, Wae Ilsit’s frame was thin and taut like a well-made rope. Age seemed to have done little to impede his movements and his motions were as supple and easy as his daughters’. Wae Ilsit was a warrior who one underestimated at one’s own peril.
“Tell them you’ll take the name and honor it.”
“I gladly accept this second name and will do honor to the Eifen with all who speak it,” Lydria said, silently thanking Kimi for his intervention.
Drae Ghern, who had watched Lydria’s expression could tell she was listening to something outside the lodge and he laughed out loud, a short, sharp laugh, but with a smile that showed his mostly full set of teeth and set off his deep, brown eyes. The others looked at their elder and waited as he slowly rose and went to the doorway which opened on silent hinges.
“Kimi,” Drae Ghern called. “Pardon an old man’s manners – please come join us. It’s not often we have such a guest.”
Answering the blank expressions of those around him, and with Lydria’s permission, Drae Ghern told the story of the previous evening, to include his presumption of the connection between Lydria and Kimi.
Lydria watched the ears of the chief as they moved back and forth as if trying to detect some falsehood in what Drae Ghern had said. “Is this true? You can speak to this bobcat?” Wae Ilsit was stunned, but also deeply impressed. He turned to Drae Ghern and asked, “how then, father, are we to help one who can heal with a touch, bring flame from nothing, and speak with forest cats?”
“As best we can. First there are things we must know or guess at. Last night, with Haidrea’s help, I sought the guidance of the spirits and for my troubles was given a word; but there is no way to repeat the word as it was told to me. This power of Lydria’s, the spirits call it ‘magic’.”
“You’re saying I can do these things on purpose, then? It wasn’t an accident?”
“There is one way to find out,” Kimi interceded. “Light another fire.”
Lydria realized she was staring at the cat and the others had turned to him as well. When she looked up all eyes were on her, waiting to hear what she had been told.
“Kimi says I should try to make a fire again.”
Drae Ghern jumped from his chair to stack small kindling and branches in the hall’s large central fireplace. “I think there is no need to make fire from nothing,” he said by way of explanation. “I have seen a path. All I need…” Drae Ghern turned where he stood as if looking for something, before reaching taking the knife from beside Lydria’s plate and quickly opening a large wound in his left hand. He moved around the table and sat beside Lydria never taking his eyes from hers. “Take my hand.”
Overcoming her shock, Lydria took the old man’s hand in hers and felt once again the calloused and deeply lined texture of his skin. Beneath it though, she felt a vibrancy she had not felt before. The smell of death, too, had receded, replaced with an essence of spring and hope. She looked at the wound and saw the white bone underneath and understood how it would be mended with needle and thread. She cradled his hand in her two smaller, paler hands and pressed her thumbs together on either side of the wound. She closed her eyes and saw the wound and how it should be. Seconds later there were gasps and she could see the yellow light through her eyelids.
Lydria opened her eyes and sought first the silent Haidrea, who smiled knowingly. She had seen this light before and was happy to see it repeated. Wae Ilsit took his father’s hand and rubbed the palm, smearing the warm blood, but finding no gash. Nethyal poured water onto his grandfather’s hand and touched it himself before sitting again next to his sister and apologizing for his disbelief.
“Are you tired, Wielder?” It was apparent to her that the Shaman knew the answer.
“I am weary as if I’ve been up for several hours, and a little stiff, but I do not ache, nor am I hurt. Why do you ask?”
“It is what I saw while you slept. Now, light the fire.”
Lydria made to get up to approach the pit, and Kimi put a paw on her thigh. “There is no need to move closer.”
Lo
oking at the fire pit again, Lydria spent several minutes thinking of how she managed the feat the previous evening. The longer it took, the more worried she became and more quickly she lost focus.
“Take a deep breath, Wielder. Imagine the smoke filling you and becoming one with you. Breathe deeply, achieve balance, and then call the fire.” Drae Ghern’s voice had a steadying effect on her and she did as he said.
Without the pipe it was difficult, but Lydria’s experience and memory of the spirits calmed her. Thinking only within, she moved her hands forward and out toward the pit and released a small ball of fire that seemed to float like a leaf on a turbulent stream toward the wood where it set the dried timber alight. Almost instantly she tilted sideways and had to reach out a hand to steady herself. She was dizzy, nauseous, and the good feeling she had when she woke up was now a distant memory. She wanted to lay down and possibly be sick, but a sharp, stabbing sensation above her knee helped her recover some of her alertness. Kimi was dislodging his cub teeth from her leggings.
“Don’t be sick on me – I’m not washing your sick out of my fur.”
Nethyal, Haidrea, and Wae Ilsit slowly turned their gaze from the fire.
“It is as I have been shown,” Drae Ghern said. “The Wielder’s power to heal comes from within. She has the healer’s art and it speaks through this gift, taking little of her magic.” Drae Ghern was talking to everyone, shifting his gaze between them. “Your power to harm is real as well – but it takes more from you. We all have the two sides within us, the dark and the light, ready to be called upon in time of need. This is the line you must walk. I cannot say what might happen should you use your gift in the cause of the darkness,” he said. “That sight was not for me.”
“Why then, did I pass out when I healed Kimi?”
Drae Ghern laughed a shallow, understanding, and protective laugh. “Daughter,” it was the first time he used the term and it caused the goose flesh to stand up on Lydria’s arms. She had lost her father, her only family. To be called daughter by Drae Ghern reminded her of that fact. “When you healed Kimi, your world had been ripped apart, and your body nearly so, you were threatened by a mad man and you held a nearly dead bobcat on your lap. Anyone might be forgiven passing out after all that.”
“Grandfather, forgive me, but can this be true? Can one person contain so much power?” Nethyal’s enthusiasm to see more was palpable.
In Lydria’s mind, Kimi spoke quietly, indicating she was to give no outward sign he had spoken. “Nethyal is a warrior, and he has yet to learn command as has his father.” For her part, Lydria observed Nethyal more closely. For all the time she had spent inspecting Wynter, and Haidrea, and even Drae Ghern, she had given barely a thought to Nethyal. There were thin beads of sweat above his brow that were not caused by the new fire. His veins stood out along his well-muscled arms and without a tunic, it was obvious his heart was racing, thumping against his slim, angular chest. His ears were pitched forward, eager to hear more. “He’s considering the possibilities of what this power could do for the Eifen. Do not fault him for that.”
“You have witnessed it for yourself Nethyal,” Drae Ghern replied. Lydria guessed he could also sense Nethyal’s rising appreciation of her power.
“Nethyal. We speak of this to no one.” The command in Wae Ilsit’s voice was not that of a father, but of a commander that left no room for questions.
Turning to Lydria Wae Ilsit’s voice lowered and he looked genuinely sad to say the words he spoke next. “We will provide what aid we can, but I am sorry, Lydria, you may not remain in Eifynar.” There was a finality in his voice that even Drae Ghern could not openly speak against.
Haidrea looked at her father as if ready to speak but was cut off by her grandfather. “You are correct, of course, Wae Ilsit.” The old man spoke the words with respect and an inflection that bestowed wisdom to the chief’s words. “Please join me by the fire and provide your counsel as I ask the spirits the shape our aid shall take.”
EIGHT
The walk out of the crater was miserable. Everything hurt – even the parts of him he thought strongest stabbed at him as he walked. Each step was agony built upon despair, but until he was out of sight, pride dictated he continue. Pride was a selfish bitch, he thought. The sightline from the crater was easily more than a mile and for a long time he thought he would make an easy target for even a moderate bowman.
“But there are no arrows trained on you, my love.”
“All arrows will be trained on me. You’ve seen to that.” He answered the voice in his head out loud. He needn’t have bothered, but he felt doing so kept him planted in a reality he could control instead of the waking nightmare his life was becoming. “Why do you continue to torment me? I did as you asked and relieved you of your suffering to be with our daughter.”
“You killed our son.”
It was by now an old conversation. It always came back to the death of Sol. There was nothing he could do to placate the spirit of his wife. He had tried bargaining. He had tried killing himself, only to find her fighting against him in his mind. Part of him continued to resist her intrusion, but his body had given up. It was too weak, and he knew it wouldn’t be long until his mind gave up as well.
“Admit it, Wynter, you enjoy the hunt. You enjoy the killing. The begging for mercy, the power, the sound as your arrow strikes home and the body is thrown backward to land like a stone in the mud. You love the smell of the blood, fresh as it pours out of a small wound, or several. You are a hunter, Wynter. You always have been, but you’ve managed to hide it all these years. Even from me, you’ve hidden your past. What you’re capable of. What you once did with relish and satisfaction.”
Wynter was stunned by the revelations she made and stopped as he reached the cover of the forest. “How do you know?”
“I know everything you know. There are no secrets between us anymore. I live now through you, Wynter, and we shall use your skills to create a new home.”
“For what?”
“Why, for us, of course.”
“But, you’re…”
“Dead? Yes, I’m dead, thanks to you. As is our daughter and our son. But there’s a new day coming, Wynter. I can feel the change. Can’t you? Listen to the world, husband. It is crying out for a ruler.”
Wynter stopped by a small birch tree and emptied what little was in his stomach. The bile was thick on his tongue and he could smell it as well as taste it. It was acrid and foul and lingered at the back of his throat and in his nose. The voice in his head had politely gone quiet so he could savor the unpleasantness with all his senses.
It would be some time before darkness fell completely. As he walked north, the ash lessened as the winds blew it west and south. The moon should be full enough to walk by, but the fouled air made it only a glimmer. Regardless, he thought, it would be best to rest and perhaps find some small thing to eat.
Gathering sticks was easy. Even in the standing trees the impact had caused shock enough to disturb the branches and the ground was littered with small pieces of wood for kindling. He reached into the small sack he had retrieved from the soldier who chased him into the woods; the soldier he had put out of his misery as his body lay crushed beneath a tree. Inside the sack were the stone he had taken at the crater, some line, bandages, a small flask, a needle and fine thread, a short filleting knife and a tinder box – everything a soldier would need for a night in the woods in one package. So very thoughtful, Wynter mused to himself. He opened the flask first, and lifted it to the sky, “to you, soldier, you’ve been the best thing that’s happened to me in weeks.” The liquor in the flask was strong and none too fine, but it helped give him enough energy to light a fire and set a string trap a distance away for anything small and unwary enough to become dinner.
The next day Wynter woke sore and stiff. Between the cold ground, the damp air and the beating he had taken the day before, he just wanted to lie in a bed and sleep. But there was nothing to be done but move on. He gat
hered his meager supplies, ate half of what remained of the rabbit he had caught the evening before, and headed north. There was nowhere else to go.
“Let’s say I head north and see what’s going on in the flatlands, eh?” He had spoken aloud to hear himself talk, and he thought Ellaster would talk back. It struck him that he hadn’t said his wife’s name, nor thought about it, since before that day in his home. She was always ‘his wife’ and the more he thought about it, the more he thought that was how it should be. “You stopped being Ellaster the day you died,” he said to the trees. “I stopped being me then as well.”
“No. That’s when you became you again,” came the voice, sending a shiver of disgust down Wynter’s neck. The voice was unrelenting, but he also missed it when it wasn’t there. Loneliness drove men to do unusual things. “You never told me what you did in Bayside before we met. You never mentioned the time you spent in the castle with the king; the dark nights on the road, at taverns, in ditches, wearing black, hiding in shadows, filling shallow graves. You never mentioned to me or anyone in Thrushton what Wynter did before he became a bowyer. Why do you think that is?”
“It wasn’t important for you to know. Do you think I was proud of those things? Do you think anyone chooses to do that work?”
“Work! Ha! Even now you see it as work, as just another chore to pass the day. Or should I say, chore to pass the days – weeks sometimes. You were very good at your job, Wynter. Tell me, why did you leave such an exalted position?”
“Piss off.”
“Tell me about the women and the children who so enraged the king that he sent you to them. Tell me how they looked, sighted down an arrow shaft, moments before they were silently cut down. Tell me how children died of poisoned milk, or how men and women were found with their throats cut. What did you tell yourself to stop from going mad? That it was a job? That someone had to do it? Or was it really because you just enjoyed it?”
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