The Alterator's Light

by Dan Brigman

  “That’s right daughter,” Ellia breathed. “Not very far at all. We should be sipping from bowls at Cousin Holli’s home for lunch.”

  “Really?” Celex asked, his voice faint. His normal enthusiasm had been doused by the chilled wind blowing from the northwest.

  “Yes, and she’ll be so glad to see all three of you. I’m sure to her, you’ve all grown like a wild rune.” Ellia clamped her mouth shut at the word. Fool! Don’t mention anything like that to remind them. At least until we get to Tolsont.

  “That’s good, Mother,” Eosy said, her voice fainter than Celex’s.

  Ellia nodded and glanced over her shoulder. The low-looming gray-white clouds would hide the sun this entire day. She pulled Celex’s hood up around his woolen cap and scarf, colors matching the sky. Eosy and Kylia had already tightened their garments again, and Kylia spurred their mount forward to match Ellia’s sudden burst of movement. They trotted, galloped, and walked several rounds by mid-morning, only stopping once at another stream, albeit frozen, not far from another stone marker. Out in the cold, several hours from the comfort of the barn, had already inured the children to the vapid wind. They had dismounted several paces from the stream, still on the roadway.

  Ellia motioned Celex toward the stream. “Break the ice, son. The horses are thirsty.” Celex smiled and looked back at the mounts, their sweat streaked down their backs and necks.

  Ellia smiled as Celex ran stiff-legged to the frozen stream bed and threw several large black-red stones onto the ice. Two chunks broke away, the ice bobbing up and down until they disappeared under the ice layer. The mounts sniffed the water, then drank several large draughts. Ellia and Celex stood nearby with the cotton blankets, stiff from the cold. Eosy and Kylia tugged on the reins, trying to pull the horses away before they drank too much.

  “Come on, you two,” Eosy begged. “We don’t have much further to go.” Tugging became dragging and the mounts relented. Ellia and Celex toweled the excess water from their muzzles before replacing the quickly-freezing towels into the saddlebags. Ellia motioned for them all to remount, and she faced north as she had already done countless times since leaving Asgrim’s.

  “The storm’s still heading our way, but the wind’s not as strong now.”

  Kylia’s words swung Ellia’s head back around. “But we are still cold. The wind’s died down, but it’s gotten colder.” Ellia could only nod before prompting the horses to walk. Let the water settle a bit.

  The rounds began again—walk, trot, and gallop. Through open plains dotted only by small groves, the river carrying ice chunks, and the Veinrivens towering in the west. The children kept quiet, their faces wrapped above their noses, the scarves to their lower eyelids. The woolen caps pulled to just below their eyebrows and the hoods were cinched tight. Only their eyes shone through, glistening with hope and tinged with fatigue. Ellia pulled the reigns up slightly, but enough that the stallion snorted and slowed. She opened her mouth for the first time in hours and felt her lips crack. She could taste blood on the tip of her tongue. She grimaced as the clotting blood began freezing, and she readied to halt for another break before letting out a hearty laugh.

  “What, Mother?” Celek whispered. His voice sounded frozen.

  “We’ve reached Jasten, children.”

  “This place is a dump,” Celex whispered before clapping a hand over his mouth. His eyes had widened in disbelief. “I’m sorry, Mother.”

  “Celex, mind your tongue in new towns. Some folk take offense to anything untoward. And some folk especially don’t like boys and girls offering their opinions.” Ellia glanced at Kylia and Eosy. With their eyes fixed straight ahead they swallowed at Ellia’s words.

  “Sorry, Mother.”

  Ellia nodded. She said, “Just mind your tongue. Now. Holli lives toward the center of the village.” Ellia scanned the village, wondering why she even bothered. She could find the squat one-story home with her eyes closed. I almost wish my eyes were closed, she thought, feeling much the same as Celex. Through the winter, even though now very late, the villagers had not spent much time preparing for spring. The road wound straight down Jasten’s middle, marked by wagon ruts, deep hoof prints, and nothing seemingly alive, other than the occasional villager or stray dog who crossed their path. Nearly every structure needed paint—the thought brought a laugh to her throat. Jasten’s cloth dyes had the best quality of any village in the province. Their clothes looked fine, yet their homes looked worn and uncared for. Many roofs needed new shingles, yet not one person could be seen on a ladder.

  “What’s funny, Mother?” Eosy asked, her voice muffled by the scarf. Her brown eyes met Ellia’s.

  “Nothing really. This impending storm has almost everyone inside but us. Ah, here we are,” Ellia said while gesturing toward an unremarkable home on the west side of the road. A few small windows dotted the walls with a closed sturdy oaken door in the middle of the wall facing the road. The door was just as faded with only a few flecks of paint with a short set of steps leading up from bare ground. An attached barn loomed over the house by a full story. Shadows hid most of the interior, but Ellia made out what she remembered as stalls. The stomping of what could only be a horse reaffirmed her memory. The second story’s interior was blocked by a wall of vertical wooden slats—faded and with a few spots of red paint here and there with one small opening near the roof’s peak

  Ten paces from the home, Ellia lowered Celex to the ground then dismounted shortly before Eosy and Kylia. Ellia held both sets of reins as all four slightly stamped their feet while striding toward the home, letting warmth reach their feet and legs again. Inhaling deeply to let the briskness touch her throat, Ellia handed the reins to Kylia.

  Ellia pointed to the barn and said, “Stable the horses, please. Holli’s never had a stable hand.”

  “And I’ve never had a need for one, especially with children to give me a hand.”

  The voice turned all four heads to its origin. A woman nearly ten years younger than Ellia stood in the open doorway, a clay mug cupped in both hands, steam rising from its top.

  “Hello, Holli.” Ellia sniffed the air. “Coffee?”

  Holli nodded; her short black hair remained still around the slightest of grins. Deep glacial blue eyes focused on all four visitors for a breath before she motioned them in. “All but you, dear Kylia. A cup of coffee awaits you inside. Milk and tea will be ready for you, too,” she said while taking a longer look at Eosy and Celex. They turned to Ellia, and her approving nod spurred the children into a run. She stared after the children wonderingly. They’re so resilient, she thought, as they pushed past Holli. Einar would be proud. She paused. Stop that…

  Ellia glanced up at Holli with a thankful smirk. Holli’s grin had deepened into a frown. She motioned her head inward for Ellia to enter. Without a word, Holli turned and disappeared inside. Ellia exhaled deeply. Please let her be civil to the children. The thought faded while Ellia stepped through the still-open door.

  Ellia and all three children sat at the rectangular wooden table. Even with Holli, at least three more people could sit comfortably around it. Little had been said since they had all gathered, sipping from ceramic teacups of all different colors, which Ellia remembered as Holli’s finest despite a crack or chip in each piece. Ellia scanned the children when Holli stood to refill their cups. Eosy and Celex grinned at one another, milk lining their upper lips. Kylia stared into her mug throughout the forced conversation.

  Holli turned from the cookstove. With a rag, she grasped the bare metal handle of the coffeepot and filled Kylia and Ellia’s cups, both muttering their thanks. Holli’s voice—normally high and expecting quick answers—took a low tone.

  “I’m so glad you all made it here safely. Since I received your letter a few weeks back, I wasn’t sure entirely how soon or if you would come.”

  “Yes,” Ellia replied, catching Kylia’s gaze, “Well, I wasn’t sure when we’d leave, Cousin.”

  Holli nodded as she sat ba
ck upon the ladder-backed chair. She sipped from the warmed coffee, her blue eyes taking in all her visitors, as if seeing them for the first time.

  “Nonetheless, I’m glad you’ve all come. It’s been ages since I’ve seen Eosy and Celex.” She smiled at their grinning faces. “Why don’t the three of you head into my parlor? I’ve got a few games and the fireplace should be ready to be stoked. Is Runic still your favorite, Kylia?” She paused until Kylia nodded. “I’ll be there in just a moment.”

  Celex and Eosy shot up from their chairs, saying in unison, “Yes, ma’am. Thank you,” before exiting the room. Kylia took a long drink, then prepared to stand after gently setting the cup down.

  Ellia forestalled her. “Daughter, please sit.”

  Holli raised a black eyebrow questioningly. Ellia continued, “She knows our reasons—my reasons—for taking us away. She should listen in just in case anything should happen to me between now and Tolsont.”

  “Very well,” Holli replied. “Please excuse me for just a moment.” Her tone shifted, light-hearted yet forceful. “It’s not often I have children in the home, and I’d prefer to not have the place burn down.” Ellia smiled, not letting the words disrupt her already-fragile peace of mind.

  The kitchen door clicked shut behind Holli. Ellia turned to Kylia, who put her entire focus on Ellia. “You can’t tell her anything.” The forced whisper spurred a confused grimace to Kylia’s face.

  “What do you mean, Mother?”

  “I mean anything,” Ellia responded, her whisper shifted from caution to iciness. “Anything your father taught you—wandering or otherwise.”

  Kylia’s face reddened. “Of course. I’ll just listen.” Her face returned slowly to normal. Ellia nodded in acceptance just as the door handle clicked. Holli pushed the door in and left it open behind her, a grin on her face. She took a seat at the table and turned her focus to both faces.

  “What is the matter?” Holli asked, a slight frown replacing the grin.

  “Nothing, Cousin,” Ellia replied, shifting her gaze to Holli. “This trip has been fraught with peril and more stress than could have been anticipated.”

  “Yes, I can only imagine,” Holli replied. Her furrowed brow exacerbated by a frown. “Really, Ellia, what were you thinking taking your children on the road just as a blizzard is coming?” She lifted the cup, the coffee still steaming, to her lips. She sipped with her eyes focused on the liquid’s rigid blackness.

  “Holli, you’ve never been married, so our situation may be difficult for you to fully understand.”

  “Well, then.” Her blue eyes peaked above the cup’s rim as she blew on the liquid. “Perhaps, you can enlighten me, as you seem to love doing, at least in your letters.”

  Holli and Kylia jumped at a clipped and loud snap from the tabletop. Ellia’s hand lay flat and unmoving, and as she replied, her voice threatened no nonsense. “I sent those letters in confidence that you would listen and understand, not bellyache, when you’ve offered your help via those same letters.”

  Mother, calm yourself, Kylia thought. Ellia stared at Kylia, her green eyes boring. Kylia had moved her hands beneath the table. Her fingers moved of their own volition until she grasped her thighs. You should take your own advice.

  Holli sniffed and said, “My apologies, Cousin.” She paused. “I meant what I said within those letters, and you’re right. I can barely imagine what you’ve been through.” She set the cup down and splayed both hands out wide. All ten fingers held mismatched colors—black, grays, reds, blues, and yellows with intermixed hues of unnamed colors. Kylia watched her focus shift from her fingers to spilled coffee. “I’ve worked as a dyer for most of my life. To become the best, I’ve had to give up a great deal.”

  “I know that, Holli, and that’s what I’ve always valued about you—your devotion to mastering what you love. Use that knowledge to understand my devotion—the safety and care of the children and myself.” Ellia pulled her hands back from the tabletop and laid them on her lap. Holli placed a hand around the cup and lifted it again. She reached around with the other hand to pull a rag from the cookstove’s handle. With the spilled coffee wiped away, Holli placed the rag back in its place, carefully arranging it in the same spot on the handle.

  “I also care for your safety,” Holli said. She reached over, her palm up and open, to Kylia. Her palm held the same variety of colors. Even her hand’s wrinkles held nothing of her skin’s normal tone. Kylia reached for the hand, thankful she no longer had to grasp her thigh for control. “You are quite sweaty, young cousin. Perhaps, you’ll wash out the dyes?” Holli winked at Kylia who smiled weakly in return.

  “Tell me of your tale, Ellia. I’ll work on preparing dinner while you talk. It’s been awhile since I’ve made a meal for family. Perhaps young Kylia can offer some insight.” She squeezed Kylia’s hand before standing. “After dinner, you’ll meet Jaken.”

  Ellia and Kylia passed confused glances, and Holli said as she turned toward the stove, “He’s an old friend. Now, let me know what has happened to bring you all the way here. The last letter is weeks old already.”

  The simple dinner passed with little conversation. All three of the children were nearly asleep at their bowls of soup. Ellia pushed her tiredness away; the mention of this Jaken touched the back of her consciousness. Holli’s lack of follow-up wrought Ellia’s anxiety to a finer edge. For the two bowls of meat stew they had eaten, Ellia had barely finished the first half of the wide wooden bowl she scraped with a pewter spoon.

  Holli chuckled as Ellia scraped for what must have been the hundredth time. Not eating, just pushing the food around. She would have told any of the children to stop playing and just eat their dinner. “I see you’re not as hungry as these growing and exhausted children.”

  Ellia smiled in reply. She whispered to the children to help clean up and get ready for sleep. They would have a long day tomorrow, she cautioned. Expecting their normal resolution to fight off bedtime, Ellia smiled again as they laid the bowls in the cracked, white porcelain sink and exited the kitchen. Holli had the children make up their floor pallets while she had cooked. Ellia wished them all to sleep soundly, hugging and kissing each on the forehead before they exited to the parlor.

  “I’ll be there soon. I just want to finish my dinner. Brush your teeth,” she admonished with a slight smile, the playful tone pulling a grin to Celex’s tired face. Kylia’s eye roll made Ellia’s grin widen further.

  Eosy closed the door behind her. Holli poured steaming water into the sink, and as she set the dull gray pail down Ellia flipped the metal lock beneath the doorknob. Holli turned with an eyebrow raised. “What is the matter, Ellia?”

  “Nothing, but I want to know who this Jaken and what his purpose is?” Ellia’s tone offered no hint of debate on the matter.

  “Oh,” Holli replied, positioning herself over the sink with a rag in hand. “I’ve hired him to help you and the children. It’s plain that you aren’t thinking carefully—taking the children on such a trek at this time of year no matter what your issues are with Einar.” She scoffed and reached for a mug. She took a long drink before resuming her work.

  “Holli, if only you understood,” Ellia said, sighing as she took her seat at the table. Her tone carried the tiredness that had seeped incrementally deeper into her flesh since their departure. “I had to leave. Einar’s attention was elsewhere and has been for a long time. It is time for a change away from that town. Besides, Einar’s probably not even aware that we’ve gone. I hope to reach Tolsont before he even knows.”

  “You don’t think much of your husband.” Holli’s statement held no hint of a question.

  “Truthfully?” Ellia asked.

  Holli laid the rag down on the sink’s edge and turned. Her gaze took in Ellia’s moroseness for a moment before she nodded. Ellia sat up straight in the chair before continuing, “I still love him, but I can’t be with him. I don’t love him as I once did, but as the father of our children. He wouldn’t accept a
divorce without such drastic measures. The children can’t be with him either. Einar couldn’t take care of them, anyway, with his wanderings these last few years. And he never fully recovered mentally from the war.”

  Holli grabbed the mug, filled it, then offered to fill Ellia’s cup. Ellia shook her head, and Holli shrugged and sat opposite Ellia. “I have a better idea of your plight. But,” Holli said, holding a palm up to forestall Ellia’s reply, “I demand that this guard go with you. It’s not that you’re weak, Ellia, it’s just that I think a bodyguard for you four can only help. One who could defend against bandits.”

  Ellia tilted her head and sighed. “It seems refusal isn’t an option.”

  “No,” Holli began, but broke off as the back door to the kitchen opened. The bottom of the wooden door scraped the floorboards, but the person, shrouded in blacks and grays, entered through the slightly ajar opening without a sound. Ellia could only stare, as she could make out no features in the dimly lit room.

  A voice, clear and deep, said, with perfect enunciation, “My name is Jaken. You must be Ellia.”

  6 — Formulated Plans

  The Lord Mayor of Durik’s Pass sat in a large high-backed wooden chair writing a response to some insignificant missive. It contained a request requiring his attention only long enough to formulate a response. Dipping his quill into the inkwell, he scratched out a decision and pushed back from the large desk. He laid the note in a tray near the door so that it could be delivered by his secretary.

  As he walked to the only window in his office, the Lord Mayor glanced at the room’s few furnishings. A small, yet empty, glass vase in the shape of a sphere sat upon a simple wooden stand. Several small tapestries hung on the walls depicting battle scenes from the Great Thuin Wars. He rarely looked at the impressions of the Wars since they usually provoked brilliant memories to flash through his mind. While the artists who had painted the scenes had never witnessed the battles depicted, the symbolism portrayed by the artists held enough accuracy for Valen Kendach. He remembered all the horrors he had witnessed; ones even he had unleashed. Valen only suffered the images so visitors to his home would be reminded of the town’s role during that chaotic time.