by Cory Huff
On the third day, Nia woke, washed herself in the pond and waited for Gaoth. She didn’t show until the sun was nearly directly above. Gaoth walked into the grove slowly, seeming even more the tired old woman. “Nia,” she started. “Today I need you to leave the grove and find the trees of the Ogham. Now that you know their properties, I want you to spend time among them. See those properties among them. I will be back tomorrow to see what you find.”
Nia thought she saw a small tremble in the hand holding the yew cane as Gaoth turned to leave. How could a spirit have a trembling hand? Nia felt confused.
After Gaoth left, Nia left the grove. Never quite sure where Gaoth disappeared to after she left the grove, she looked around to see if the spirit was perhaps watching her. No.
Nia looked around. The first tree she saw was an ancient, tall oak tree. Duir in the Ogham. It had green leaves with a slight silver sheen. Sturdy. Solid. Invoked for times when stability was needed. She put her hands on the tree and felt the rough bark. Nothing felt different with her new knowledge. She jumped up, grabbed a low-hanging limb and pulled herself up into the tree, climbing higher and higher until she got to the uppermost branch that would still support her tiny frame. She looked down and estimated she was fifty feet from the ground. She felt no vertigo. She had done this before and the oak had always held her up. She wasn’t sure she felt the essence of the tree, not as some external force, but she thought she got what Gaoth was talking about. She admired the view for another moment, and then remembered she had 24 other plants to find and commune with.
She hurriedly climbed down and found the next tree, an ash. Nuin in the Ogham. Straight. Mystical. Used in a variety of rituals. She looked around for a thorn tree, to see if this was a complete fairy circle, but there was no thorn tree nearby.
Nia spent the remainder of the day seeking in the forest, identifying trees and their Ogham properties. Not all of the plants were here in these woods, or Nia couldn’t find them all, but a surprisingly large variety of them were present. Nia didn’t know much about trees, but it did seem remarkable to her that so many different kinds grew together here.
The next day, Nia waited nervously for Gaoth. She didn’t come. After the sun was more than two hours past the mid-day, Nia decided she would go out and look for more of the plants from the Ogham alphabet. She found two more, but after hours of looking and the sun starting to set, she decided she would head back to the safety of the grove.
The next day was more of the same. Gaoth didn’t appear, and Nia grew worried. Gaoth had been shaky and tired, but it seemed silly to worry about whether a spirit was tired.
Nia spent the next two days sleeping in the grove, memorizing the oath poem, and hoping Gaoth would appear again. She did not.
On the third day, as Nia was waking and the cool morning breeze blew in off of the pond, she had a strong impression come into her mind that a friend needed help. She didn’t want to leave the woods or her training, but she wasn’t sure what else to do. She knew that she needed to listen to these impressions that came upon the wind. And the impression was urgent. The need was urgent.
So she turned and ran. She ran towards the only friend that she really had. She ran to the church. She ran to Aidan.
As she was running, Nia thought about what had happened to her. She had learned and changed so much in what seemed like the blink of an eye. She knew things now. Things that would change her life forever. She couldn’t wait to tell Aidan.
Nia practically flew through the woods. She knew the land so well, and the extra aid from listening to the wind helped her avoid every low hanging branch that might smack her, every tree root and rock that might trip her. She ran out of the woods and across the graveyard to the church, hopping crumbling grey headstones and sunken graves. She knew that it might be a bit sacrilegious to some, but they were dead and the need was urgent. She ran through the massive wooden church grounds gate, nodding to the guards on duty and paused in the cobblestone courtyard. Everyone was gathering for the morning combat drills. She saw the women picking up their wooden practice swords and she almost walked over to join them when they waved.
But the wind wasn’t calling her there.
She looked around and then she saw Aidan, sidling out of the half-built temple, trying to remain unseen as he walked, head down, across the courtyard. Nia saw people looking at him in an odd way. One of the younger boys was clearly looking at him with a mix of awe and reverence. He clasped his hands in prayer as he watched Aidan walk. What had happened? She suddenly remembered how angry she had been at him, and she felt embarrassed. Why had she been so angry?
“Aidan,” she called out loudly. Everyone in the courtyard looked at her, some astonished that she would call out his name so loudly. Aidan looked up, saw her and his eyes widened in surprise and he reflexively went into a defensive stance. They looked at each other across the distance for several seconds. Nia felt chagrined. “Aidan, I’m sorry.”
He eased a bit. “Ok,” he said. “I have to go.”
He headed for the exit and after shrugging off her surprise, Nia fell in step with him. “What do you mean you have to go? We need to talk. I need to apologize properly to you.”
Aidan shook his head, “Not right now Nia. Something is wrong and I need to help someone.”
Nia stopped, surprised at his abrupt behavior. What was going on? She took a deep breath and listened as the sounds of battle practice resumed. The breeze floated by and Nia realized that her urgent call to help had not disappeared. She decided to follow Aidan. “Fine. I’m coming with you,” she yelled out behind him. He glanced over his shoulder, shook his head, and set out at a jog when he cleared the gate.
Nia caught up easily, “Who are you helping?”
“I don’t know. I’m following a prompting.”
“Oh,” said Nia. “I get that.”
Aidan glanced at her with a puzzled look, “You do?”
“I think I do. Aidan, I’m sorry again. I have so much to tell you.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Fire
Caile walked through the house she used as a hideout until she entered the neglected kitchen. The house had crumbled to the point that most of the people of Atania would never feel safe living there. There were little holes in the walls where rot had set in and vines on the outside walls had broken through. The wooden cabinets sagged. After moving in, she had scrubbed away the mold and rot. She had found some nails and put boards up over the holes. The house was livable, and if the roof caved in, Mindee thought grimly, at least she might find some peace in death.
Caile hummed a martial battle song as she walked. She opened a wooden pantry cupboard covered with peeled white paint and lifted a loose board on the back wall. She reached into the darkness to pull an oilcloth-wrapped item out from its hiding spot. She lifted the cloth off and she held a beautiful longsword. The hilt was wrapped in leather, surrounded by a guard that looked like the branches of a willow tree hanging down from the blade. The blade itself was etched with the Ogham inscriptions for song, dance, and war. That meant it was a dedicated blade of the Amhranaithe - the blade singers.
She walked back to the living room, having already cleared the space for what she was about to do.
Caile began dancing.
She hummed that same martial tone as she danced. Very slowly at first, warming up. She stepped to the right, then to the left, knees easy and loose, her sword held at a 45 degree angle perfectly balanced in her hand. She continued stepping right, then left, as if introducing herself to her dance partner. She stepped forward to the right, extending her sword to the furthest point of balance, then back, then forward to the left, then back. The dance became more complex after that. Thrusts turned into cuts. Simple footwork turned complex, balancing weight in intricate ways that moved her around the room.
It was a beautiful dance, full of strength, flexibility, and danger. After a few minutes, her lithe body was covered in perspiration as she flowed from form to form with a
grace that embodied the fluid, economical movements of a forest hunting cat.
Before she became a blade singer, Caile had been a great dancer. Her mother, a Tuatha, one of the people of the forest descended from the Sidhe, had traveled all over Rune, entertaining the people with her dances. That’s where she had met Caile’s father, a human from Atania. Their love had been wonderful at first. But as the Hartland War broke out and Cyric the Warlord bore down on their homeland, her mother and father had separated. Caile had still been a young girl. The Tuatha children had tormented Caile because she was different, but more so because their homeland was under siege by Cyric the Warlord’s forces. Caile represented the enemy, and she was never allowed to forget it. After her mother had been murdered by one of Cyric’s assassins, Caile’s social isolation became profound. In the present, her dance steps increased in speed.
The fact that she had followed in her mother’s footsteps and become an incredible dancer at a young age hadn’t helped her. So she had also honed her singing ability. Her wealth, inherited from her mother, and status as the child of a Tuatha icon gave her access to the best tutors. Well before she was an adult in their culture, she had cemented her reputation as one of the most powerful performers among the Tuatha. Her swings came harder.
But she still hadn’t received acceptance. The older Tuatha saw her rise as a mark of her overly ambitious human side. Caile had refused to wait. She wanted to be the best. She knew she had less time to live because of her human blood, so she would do what the other Tuatha did in less time, to prove that she was just as good as them. The sweat dripped into her eyes, stinging, and bringing tears.
During that time, she also pushed herself to offer service. She tended to the Tuatha who had been injured in the war, performing for them and sitting with them. She listened to their tales about the war. After years of listening to their stories, she decided that she would join the Amhranaithe. It had been exceedingly difficult, but not quite as hard as she had thought it would be. She mastered the bladesong. It was just another performance. The Ogham had come harder, but she had learned that too. The day she received this sword should have been a day of great honor. Instead, it was just another reason to be disappointed that she hadn’t received acceptance. Her breath burned like fire in her lungs as she struggled to maintain her form.
Caile could have been among the greatest of the Tuatha. But they never forgave her human heritage. They never forgave her for reminding them of the humans who killed her beloved mother and destroyed a generation of Tuatha. She grit her teeth.
So Caile had kept looking for the thing that would bring her acceptance. Her need became obsessive. She worked herself to the point of exhaustion. She would frequently study the Ogham for days on end, not sleeping or eating, only to find find herself suddenly waking up naked in the forest with only a sword and a dagger. She found new cuts on her skin that she didn’t recognize. Her superiors in the Amhranaithe warned her that she was burning out, but she didn’t care. Without thinking she invoked the Ogham, making the gestures with her free hand, making her sword lighter and relieving her stress, allowing her to move with flow again.
She had discovered the Cumhneantach by accident. She had borrowed a book from Tarkin Songcrest, the leader of the Amhranaithe, and a paper in the book had the name written on it, with a warning to watch them. She had wheedled what they were out of Tarkin, and sought to join them. If she could prove that humanity was no threat to the Tuatha then perhaps she would be respected.
What the Cumneantach had done to her had hurt. Had it been worth it?
It doesn’t matter. Thought Mindee.
Caile stopped the dance, breathing heavily, her lungs and arms on fire from her workout. It matters to me. This is not what I wanted to do.
What you wanted? You knew what you signed up for when it happened. I’m here now. Let me use the dance. Mindee had been asking for this more lately. She knew what a weapon it was and how deadly Caile could really be.
If I do this, if we kill Sophronia, can this be the last one? Caile pleaded.
It’s not up to us. Mindee was seemingly uncaring.
Then I won’t do it. Caile was resolved
We have to go and find those warriors from the Thir. Mindee was impervious to Caile’s desires.
We will just watch them and observe? Caile asked.
We will go. Mindee demanded.
Caile relented and Mindee walked out of the house with the sword belted on. Since she knew what she was looking for, it was a small matter to use the Ogham to locate the warriors. She watched them set a fire and begin beating a neighborhood drunk. An opportunity presented itself and Mindee set fire to a very particular house. Again.
As they jogged along, Nia told Aidan that she had left the church and gone back to the woods where she had been attacked by the wolves. She told Aidan about her vow to honor the Spirits for saving her life. Aidan knew about how devout her mother had been. He nodded, “That makes sense.”
They jogged for another long minute in silence. Aidan could tell there was more to the story. “Nia, did something else happen?” Aidan asked.
Nia nodded. “I don’t know how to start to tell you this. It’s pretty unbelievable.” She hesitated.
“Nia, I saved another person’s life while you were gone. I don’t know how it happened. It was also pretty unbelievable. Whatever you have to share, I will believe you.” He could tell that she wanted to tell him. He hoped that his sharing would encourage her to do the same.
“Gaoth appeared to me.”
Aidan came to a stop and stared at Nia. “Gaoth? The spirit of the wind, Gaoth?”
“Nia?” A voice came from just across the street.
Aidan and Nia both jumped at the voice and looked up. Aidan saw a tall red headed woman standing next to Liam, the neighborhood tanner. He looked nervous. How did this woman know Nia?
Nia recognized Sophronia.
Aidan suddenly realized how bad it smelled, which led him to realize they were standing right next to Liam’s tannery.
“Nia how are you? You’re running! How is this possible? Your arm looks totally healed!”
Liam spoke low, “Sophronia. We need to go.”
Sophronia looked around and nodded. “Nia, come with us into the tannery. We need to gather some supplies for a journey. While we’re doing that, I want you to tell me what happened.”
Nia and Aidan looked at each other, both silently knowing this is where they needed to be.
Brannan, the taller of the two muscular warriors, reached down and scooped a handful of flat, round stones from his belt pouch. He shook them in his hand and then abruptly slammed his hand down on the ground in front of where he crouched in a crumbling alleyway.
He and Einain had wandered through the Atanian alleyways for a day, silently watching the people. Despite their large and muscular frames, long blonde hair, and obvious weapons, they were able to move around unseen. The warriors were disgusted to see that these people were soft and unaware. They didn't see the danger lurking behind their crumbling houses nor did they acknowledge the spirits that might have protected them. There were few houses with the symbols or baubles that the Black Ravens used to protect themselves from Tine or the other spirits. A fire symbol carved into a doorpost would have gone a long way, but most of the people here had nothing.
After returning to report a few days ago, they had been told to come back and begin sowing discord. Personally, Brannan didn't see a need for it. These people were not warriors. They were not vigilant. But the chief and shaman gave orders. Their task was to start small fires, dole out a few beatings, and terrorize the people without coming into the open. If they were already unsettled and scared when the tribe showed up, then the fighting would be even easier.
He looked down at the stones on the ground in front of him. Seven stones covered in carved lines. He picked up the ones that were face down. They wouldn't tell him where to go next. He looked at the two remaining stones. He nodded and looked u
p, counting houses. He pointed and picked up his remaining rune stones.
His companion nodded and moved forward, grinning. The house was covered in thatch, dry grasses that Brannan thought should easily ignite. They made their preparations, striking flint and steel together to spark fire to a torch. He held his torch to the thatch. It didn’t immediately burn. He frowned, confused. He held the torch there longer and the thatch smoked and curled, but the fire didn't easily spread. He dug into the grasses, and realized that the thatch underneath wasn't tinder-dry like what was on top. This would require more work.
"Hey, what are you guys doing?"
They both whirled around to see a man standing there in a plain white workman’s shirt. The man looked angry. "What are you doing? Why would you do that? Who are you?"
The two warriors looked at each other and shrugged. Brannan tossed the torch on the ground and walked forward, stretching his arms and flexing. The man turned toward the front of the house to run and the warrior lunged forward, grabbing the man by his shirt. He shoved the man up against the house, head first, when he tried to scream, knocking the air from his lungs and opening a cut on his forehead. Then he punched him in the kidney and the man's eyes bulged in pain as he tried to suck in some air. Brannan kicked the man's legs out from underneath him and he went down hard.
The two warriors laughed and mocked the man for his weakness. The man tried to crawl out of the alley and got a kick to the stomach. He rolled over on his side and closed his eyes, hoping it would be over soon.
Aidan's younger brother, Auley, ran home from school, but never in a straightforward route. Like his older brother, Auley was agile and curious. He loved to sprint through the alleyways, his natural agility carrying him up the side of houses, onto thatched roofs, and jumping from house to house. When he came to a gap too large to jump, he slid down the side of a thatched roof and tucked into a roll as he hit the ground. He came up smoothly and continued running around corners. He took them wide, at full speed, jumping and running sideways along a house for just a step or two to keep his momentum going. It made him feel like he was flying.
