The Alterator's Light

by Dan Brigman

  Asgrim continued, “It’ll be dark soon. Celex, you want to get some more firewood? And you, young lady,” he said while looking at Eosy, “please get me some herbs of your choosing for the stew I’ll begin working on now.”

  “Stew!” Eosy and Celex replied together. Asgrim’s deep laugh brought a smile to their faces. He rubbed one hand, spotted with age, over his nearly-bald head, the white wisps of hair patted down for a breath before popping back up in wild directions. If not for the striking blue eyes, sharply focused, the three children would have thought a madman sat in their presence. And even though Asgrim had issued requests, the children caught Ellia’s eye for permission. When she nodded, they jumped from the seats and began working to fulfill the cook’s needs.

  “What can I do for you, grandpa?” Kylia asked.

  “My young lady, you can retrieve some water for our stew. Do you remember where the well pump is?”

  Kylia nodded and departed the small room, seemingly large enough for two people, yet it held no sense of being cramped to any of the four visitors. When Kylia pushed the rear door closed, Asgrim caught sight of Eosy across the room. She had found a double-rung step stool. Eosy stood atop the wide top rung pulling different hanging herbs down. She inspected each one closely with her eyes, nose, and fingers.

  With Eosy’s attention firmly on her assigned task, Asgrim caught Ellia’s gaze before asking, “You’ll tell me what’s happened, won’t you?” After he motioned for her to sit, they both took seats on plain wooden high-backed chairs. He reached a gnarled hand over the square wooden table and grasped Ellia’s outstretched hand. His wrinkled and paper-thin skin barely covered blue and purple veins stretching past his wrist and under his long-sleeved shirt. Her hands lay within his strong grip and her smooth, black skin contrasted enough from his seemingly ancient hands that Asgrim smiled as he looked downward from her eyes.

  Her smile did not reach her eyes as she recounted the past few months as well as the last few days on the road. Her eyes glistened several times throughout her account, but she refused to let one tear drop. It’ll be confirmation that I hold regret, she repeated to herself. Again. And again.

  Taking a long breath, she finished, “Asgrim, we need your help. Do you have two mounts we can use on the morrow, at least to Jasten? Holli would have them sent back, I’m sure.”

  Asgrim’s wrinkled face tilted sideways at the request. He opened his mouth, then closed it and looked down. The black kitten pawed at his ankle, and Asgrim noted, “He’s got sharp claws and always wants attention.” He bent over and before the kitten laid in Asgrim’s lap, Ellia heard purring—slight, yet rhythmic. Asgrim caressed his head and glanced back up at Ellia. “I do have two mounts you can use, but they’ll cost you.” His blue eyes twinkled at Ellia’s deep sigh.

  “Asgrim, we don’t have much money. Einar hasn’t made—” Ellia began. He lifted his empty hand, waving it to push that idea away.

  “You can pay me in other ways.” Her confused frown prompted him to continue. “You’ll promise that you’ll not let anything happen to these children.”

  “Of course,” Ellia breathed. “You don’t know what it means to us.”

  “Good. They’ll be ready in the morning. You’ll want to leave at sunrise. Jasten is straight south, as you know. You’ll be there by noon, if you push.” He glanced upward, seemingly trying to pierce the thatched roof with his eyes. “That storm isn’t going to let you travel easily, unless you use the horses.”

  “It’s settled, then. Thank you, Asgrim.” Ellia stood and stopped a half-step from the chair. All three children worked at preparing components of the meal—Celex at the fire, Kylia mixing in the ingredients, and Eosy cutting and delivering each item.

  To Ellia’s side, she heard Asgrim stand and say, “Care for a smoke?” She turned, and Asgrim’s grin and wink relieved stress which had built during her recollection. He strode to a small woodstove opposite the fireplace and pulled out a long, thin metal rod. It had been buried deep in the red-orange coals. Asgrim clicked the pipe into place between his teeth—already stuffed with tobacco—puffed while he laid the glowing rod’s end into the pipe bowl. The bowl quickly lit, and he thrust the rod back into the stove before sitting again.

  Asgrim inhaled and exhaled several times while Ellia looked on, her hands held together in front of her. The sweet odor of the smoke cloud brought a cough from each of the children. Asgrim smiled and said, “Open a window, Ellia, if you must, or open the chimney damper a bit more. The children’s lungs aren’t ready for such exotic fragrances.”

  Ellia complied by sliding open two windows the width of a finger while replying, “That habit’s going to kill you someday.”

  Asgrim nodded and inhaled again, the smile firmly in place.

  Conversation lulled during the meal. Only Celex ate too fast to enjoy the flavor, despite Ellia’s admonitions to slow down. After scouring the bowl’s bottom for a third time, Asgrim licked off the remaining spoon’s liquid and sat back contentedly. “Your mother taught all of you well. I’ve not had a meal that tasty in a long time.” The children beamed and Ellia blushed.

  Asgrim chuckled, “Oh, come now. Take credit when its due.”

  All three children nodded and said in unison, “Thank you, grandpa!” Asgrim had replaced the spoon with the pipe before looking at each child.

  “All of you will have a comfortable night in the stables, but before then I’d like for Celex and Eosy to clean up the dishes. This fine meal deserves fine sets of hands to clean up.” He smiled around the pipe stem, then continued as he stood, “When you’re done, meet me outside.” Asgrim reached the door, glanced down at his boots and shook his head. He slipped on a pair of leather soles and departed the shack.

  A moment passed, and the children had still not risen until Ellia said, calmly, “Do as he says and hurry.” They scrambled to their feet. Kylia caught Ellia’s eye with a questioning frown. Ellia replied to Kylia, “And you need to help, too.” Kylia shrugged, seemingly expecting no other option.

  With the children back to work, Ellia stepped outside. Night had fallen during the meal and the snow clouds blocked moon and star light. She rubbed her arms to push off the cold while wishing she had not left her cloak hanging on a hook. With each inhalation, Ellia felt her nostrils chill; with each exhalation a white cloud was issued. Light streamed outward from the wide-open sliding door of the stable. Across the short distance Ellia caught the sounds of snorting from inside and horses grinding hay or straw between their teeth. Ellia paced to the door, her boots crunching on frozen brown grasses and fingernail-sized pebbles strewn about the well-tended yard.

  The light flowed from four rune lanterns hanging equidistant on wrought-iron hooks. They were attached to wooden posts extending the two-story height of the stable. Ellia stepped within, letting her eyes grow accustomed to the brightness. Asgrim noticed Ellia enter while he brushed down a short black stallion—his shoulders reaching only to Asgrim’s chin.

  He said, “Please close that door if you want heat for the night. Your bunks are in the same place, as always—at the back of the stables.” He pointed with a thumb over his shoulder. “No hay or straw allowed back there—only wood for the stove.”

  Ellia followed the direction and within a minute she could feel the intensity of the stove’s warmth, even from the back of the room. She returned and leaned against an empty stall’s railing to watch Asgrim attend to every detail of the horse’s needs: combing, brushing, cleaning the shoes and hooves, then providing a bucket, presumably filled with oats. Halfway through the same method on a painted mare, the children entered. They pulled the sliding door shut as Ellia motioned them to do, once all three stood within.

  “Good. Good. You’re finished, as I’ll soon be. The black stallion and this lady,” he said, patting the mount, “will be your friends, at least for a day. Go check out your bunks and get ready for sleep.”

  Ellia led the children to the stable’s rear bunk room. They followed silently
through the well-lit narrow wooden hallway. From the hallway’s opening to the room’s open door, only two closed doors midway down the hall offered any other openings. Ignoring those doors, they filed into the small, yet comfortable room. Four sets of simple wooden bunk beds lined the walls with enough space for a woodstove and a tall chest of drawers. Two four-legged wooden stools sat against an empty spot on the wall. Two cats, one black and one pregnant yellow, lay on the feather-filled mattresses. The cats’ heads darted upward to stare at the strangers’ entry. Eventually their heads fell, slipped back on their front paws, and followed with soft purring.

  “I’ve stayed here over the years,” Ellia commented, “either coming home or heading south. I can’t remember leaving Asgrim’s place without a full stomach and a good night’s rest.”

  A chorus of “this is my bed” broke through anything else Ellia had planned on saying. She smiled and mentioned she would be back with their packs in a moment. When Ellia entered the narrow hallway, a song, melancholy and low, reached her ears. She faltered at the hauntingly familiar tune, yet the words were too low to make out. Ellia continued to its source in the main room of the stable. Even moving closer did not help fashion out the song’s words. Asgrim stood, still brushing the stallion, and his words matched the tempo of each stroke. Despite Ellia’s initial confusion, the song transfixed her. After several verses, the words became more familiar, yet she could not place their meaning or where she had heard them before. I know I’ve heard this song before. Doesn’t matter, though. Asgrim has a better voice than anyone I’ve ever heard. Even the mounts had stilled, only chewing out of habit.

  After ten more long brush strokes, Asgrim’s voice faded before his hand fell to his side. He turned and noticed Ellia unmoving in the doorway. Asgrim’s short laugh startled Ellia into a grin following a whispered, “What language was that?”

  His gaze dropped, and his brow creased with concern, wrinkles forming deep ridges. He looked up again and caught Ellia’s question. “Are you well, Asgrim?” He nodded, his frown dissipating.

  “Yes. That is a long dead tongue. One I shouldn’t have uttered aloud.”

  “Well, it’s beautiful and familiar. I just can’t place where I’ve heard it before,” Ellia replied. She brushed past Asgrim on her way to the sliding door. “I’d love to hear more, if you’re willing, but I just came to retrieve our packs. We have a long day ahead of us.”

  “That’s probably because of who you are married to, my dear.”

  “What?” Ellia asked, her voice grunting with the effort of picking up the four small brown leather packs. Her eyes met Asgrim’s and she patiently waited despite the heft of the packs.

  “You said it was familiar,” Asgrim said finally. Ellia nodded. “Well, that’s because it’s taught to all Alterators at some point in their career.” Ellia pursed her lips, her face unreadable. Understanding flashed over her green eyes. A moment passed before Ellia’s gaze dropped to the wooden floor. Of course. Einar used to sing that to the children when they were younger.

  “I must get back to the children,” Ellia whispered while passing by the old man.

  “I’ll check on you in a bit,” Asgrim replied. He watched her pass through the doorway and out of sight. What have I done? Asgrim thought. Fool! Singing like that with them around. He strode near to a narrow shelf holding various implements and threw the brush at the top. It deflected off, bounced off the wall, and skimmed across the floor. When it stopped near the mare’s hooves, Asgrim sighed. Only one way to make it up to them. A flash of inspiration erased his irritation. With a smile, he picked the brush up and placed it lovingly on the shelf, his gaze toward where the vague voices of children reached the stable.

  “Go to sleep, Eosy,” Ellia whispered. “We’ve got a long day ahead of us.”

  “Yes, Mother,” she replied through a long wide-mouthed yawn.

  Ellia looked down from her bunk, all three children laying on the bottom bunk of their own respective bed. The coverlet she had retrieved from the chest of drawers had seemed to be quite a luxury until the room’s warmth forced her to throw it to her waist. Above all three of them, Ellia made out the slightest shift in the beds, the tugging of clothes, or attempts at late-night chatter between Eosy and Celex. A fourth time of the talking, despite her demands for peace, brought Ellia to an elbow. Just as she opened her mouth to speak, Asgrim’s voice broke the near-silence.

  “Listen to your mother, children.”

  “Yes, grandfather,” Eosy said, quickly followed by Celex.

  “Why do we call you ‘grandfather’?” Kylia said in hushed tones. A deep laugh rolled over the room just as Asgrim grabbed a stool. He placed it next to the woodstove and sat. Ellia could see no hint of his age as he positioned himself. Nothing like other elderly people in Durik’s Pass who took every movement carefully for fear of falling.

  Asgrim scanned the room, taking in the children. Somehow, though, Ellia knew his eyes reached her, too. “You call me ‘grandfather’ because I am old enough to be your mother’s grandfather.” Eosy laughed, and he continued, “Plus, I like the sound of grandfather.” He paused. “I never had a grandchild of my own.”

  “I’m sorry,” Kylia began as she rolled to her side, her face toward Asgrim. “I just wondered. I didn’t mean anything, sir.”

  “No, no. Don’t you worry, young lady.” A slight grin followed. “I’m too old now for children, and my wife, may the Originators bless her, has been gone almost as long as your mother has been alive.”

  “You’re old,” Celex began.

  “Mind your tongue, son,” Ellia hissed through a whisper.

  “Don’t worry, boy. I am old,” Asgrim replied followed by a barking laugh. “But, really, I don’t feel a day over eighty. Now, sleep, the lot of you. I’ll watch over.”

  “But I can’t sleep. I miss daddy,” Eosy whined. “I wish he were here, too.”

  Asgrim glanced up at Ellia, catching her eye. Their eyes locked in place until Asgrim nodded, almost imperceptibly. She felt her eyes glisten, and Asgrim turned to Eosy.

  “I know you do. I would, too, I think. Nothing wrong with missing your dad.” He paused, placing the pipe stem between his teeth. “If you promise not to talk anymore and close your eyes, I’ll sing you something that may offer a reminder of your father. But not another word, or I’ll have to see about my own sleep. I am old, you know.” That brought restrained laughter from the three children. Then, Ellia could hear the shifting of three young bodies, attempting to find comfort in the unfamiliar beds.

  With the pipe still between his teeth, Asgrim’s soft singing never rose higher than his normal, tender voice. The words caressed them into sleep one by one. The ancient language carried no name that Ellia could remember and only she witnessed Asgrim’s entire right hand weaving a rune. Each finger formed white lines interlacing with one another and the soft scent of rain reached her nostrils. The fingers’ movement matched each strange lyric, strengthening the song, matching her heartbeat. The heat diminished gradually with the inscribing, yet the rune’s light never grew so bright as to overwhelm the soundness of the children’s sleep.

  Asgrim lowered his hand, the afterimage soft, not causing Ellia to squint as she had grown accustomed to over the years. I’d almost forgotten what one looks like. With the other hand, Asgrim replaced the pipe and puffed, letting the gray smoke waft throughout the room and up the open woodstove. Finally, he closed the stove’s black metal door and stood. He turned and jumped at seeing Ellia still awake.

  He laughed gently, then whispered, “I see grandfather’s song only works on the children.” He smiled and patted her open hand. He departed humming the song, barely audible over his diminishing footsteps.

  She lay, watching him walk into the hallway. Does Einar know of Asgrim’s ability? The warmth of his hand and the humming quieted her to sleep.

  Ellia looked askance at Eosy and Kylia upon the painted mare and scanned to ensure they left with everything they had brought. Celex sat
in front of her upon the black stallion, Ellia and his pack in a saddlebag behind them. She could smell Celex’s clean hair, his head barely a hand’s width beneath her.

  Asgrim cinched the stirrups to meet their feet, the lantern light illuminating enough to push back the pre-dawn darkness. The mounts stomped a hoof while he worked, their breaths coming in white clouds. Ellia had heard Eosy’s nose sniffling long before any of the children had risen. Asgrim handed her a red handkerchief and smiled as she reached for it.

  “Well, you’ll get there early due to leaving before the dawn. It’s getting colder, Ellia. You’ll not want to waste any time.” He pulled his gray woolen cloak tighter around his neck.

  “Of course, Asgrim. We can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done. The warm baths will be remembered for days.”

  Asgrim’s eyes narrowed. “Your cousin can’t be that barbaric,” Asgrim wondered aloud.

  “No, but she’s not as forthcoming with warming the water on cold winter days.”

  Asgrim’s deep laugh followed them as Ellia and Kylia spurred their mounts forward. When they had reached the first of the stone mile markers, Kylia asked with a smile, “We don’t have far to travel, do we, Mother?”

  Ellia frowned and turned her face from the road. The implacable gray clouds overhead had pushed her thoughts elsewhere—to their house and to what awaited, all but what they struggled with now. “What?” Ellia mumbled.

  “We don’t have far to go, do we, Mother?”

  For the first time since they had departed that morning, Ellia saw their faces. Reddened cheeks and noses were emphasized by wisps of breath. Eosy stared forward, her head tilted as if listening for Ellia’s answers, but too cold to turn. Celex stirred, looking up and giving Ellia a glimpse of his similarly-colored face. Kylia opened her mouth again, but Ellia caught her gaze. Kylia nodded, focused her eyes between her two siblings, and widened her eyes upon each one.