Life Giver

by Lisa Lowell

  Yeolani felt his jaw drop open in wonder, but he recovered quickly. "Candle it is. Now, where's my bowl?" He would think about what he didn't know later. Right now, he was more interested in the stew.

  And that is how Yeolani managed to survive his first winter in Fallon Forest. Moving with a whole crew of woodsmen taught him much: how to chop and fell trees, but also how to interact with a variety of men and make deals with them as he listened to the crew chief Bowdry selling loads of wood at the hamlets deep in the forest or at towns closer to the edge. Yeolani managed to hold his own and bulked up with the benefit of reliable meals and hefty work. This did nothing to teach him the self-reliance he craved. While his companions weren't great hunters, they could bring down a deer with a well-placed ax throw. Quarry rarely came within range, for cutting timber drove off most of the game, but the men were always ready, nonetheless.

  The crew slept in tents which thankfully kept the fairies away at night, much to Yeolani’s relief. However, that did not stop these pesky creatures from buzzing over him when they worked during the day. Their bright lights hovered just beyond reach over his head. He alone seemed to be irritated with them, although they swooped throughout the camp. One evening, early in spring, one of the other men caught him trying to swat at one and chided him.

  "If you've got the attention of the fae, you shouldn't try to sweep them away," Arvid, his friend, said frankly. "Most of us can't see them, so you should be grateful that you interest them."

  "I’d rather have a lady’s interest,” Yeolani replied in amazement. He had not realized no one else noticed the fairies that flew in flocks around Arvid’s head.

  Arvid chuckled at that. "Almost as good as a lady. No, the fairies are a sign of good luck. My sister Rashel, supposedly she's got them hovering about her head all the time. And a good thing. They kept her from falling in the well once, and our ma, she claims they're protecting her from evil."

  "But…but if you can't see them, isn't that…well, odd? They’re more of a nuisance than a sliver in your toe. They keep me up at night if I'm outside the tents."

  Arvid, the only other younger man in the wood crew, simply shrugged. "Maybe they're the reason why you've not been injured in your time here," and he suggestively pointed at his boot.

  Arvid had already told him the tale of how he had accidentally planted his ax blade between his toes after he'd been at the work only a few weeks and then added that it was a minor miracle that Yeolani hadn't hurt himself already in the dangerous work of a lumberjack. "Most of the men don't believe in the fairies, but I've seen my sister with that look…bedazzled by the fairy lights. And the others say you're freakishly lucky so far. You've got some kind of protection for sure."

  At that comment, Yeolani remembered, for the first time in ages, his conversation with Honiea. He didn't think the two things, magic and fairies, could be related, but maybe being plagued by fairies was a magical signal like his seasickness had been. He would not ever be completely free of Honiea’s world, he reasoned. And if that meant the fairies were concerned for him, he could deal with that far better than seasickness. Generally, these creatures didn't interfere with his work by day, and now, sleeping in a tent, they didn't keep him awake either. Yeolani didn't pursue more about the fairies. He could ignore them just as easily as he could his curiosity of magic, and he did well at that until the summer. Then everything changed again.

  The crew planned that morning to cut down a massive tree. Ten men could not complete a ring about it, and its top was lost in the sun’s glare. Yeolani noted that fairies covered it more than other trees he’d seen. It was thick with them, so Yeolani could not even see the lower branches where he had cast his guideline. He wasn’t on the cutting crew at the moment, so he wasn’t exactly watching the first swing of the ax. The blow simply sounded wrong. That one swing made every fairy’s light go out. Abruptly, the tree began to fall. It shattered, revealing its rotten, unstable core. It twisted as it fell. Yeolani saw it all from his place on the guide rope. It swung as if some invisible giant rolled the falling timber toward them. The massive tree snapped with a bang, bounced off its jagged stump and swept in an arc toward the other side's guide ropes. They didn't stand a chance. Four men were struck and bowled over and one remained pinned under the log when it finally came to a rest.

  Everyone dropped their lines or axes and scrambled toward the fallen men. Luckily, two had fallen in the soft loamy earth and had been pressed into the ground rather than crushed, but two were not so well off. One had broken ribs, and his breathing came labored. And then there was Arvid, still pinned under the massive tree. He was still conscious but raving in pain. Someone went running for shovels to start digging out around him, but the camp was half-a-mile away.

  "Yeolani, where's your pack?" barked Bowdry, who shoved Yeolani off toward the camp, assuming he'd left it with the tents. Quite often the young man brought it with him since it was amazingly light, and he liked to have access to his jug of water. Yeolani staggered the mere yards to where they had started the morning at the edge of the clearing and snatched up his pack, bringing it back as fast as he could run.

  Captain Bowdry looked gratified that Yeolani didn't have to run as far as the camp. "Get out the candle. We need her help," he ordered.

  Obediently Yeolani did as he was instructed. He dumped out his pack and lifted the candle from the pile, confused as to what to do next.

  "Well, light it, boy," barked the captain.

  Still not sure what good a candle would do for his friend or the men who now knelt around Arvid's body, using their hands to scoop the ground underneath his pinned legs, Yeolani did as he was ordered. His hands shook as he gathered a pile of dry pine needles and then found his flint and steel from his belongings. It seemed to take forever to get a smoke to start, and then he fished around on the ground for a stick that would light. His hands barely held the tiny flame steady as he set the stick to the candle's wick. Once he knew it was lit, he looked over at Bowdry and felt a well of fear. Everyone in the crew knew that this candle was magic and so was he.

  Without quite knowing why, Yeolani lifted the light high and began wishing that Honiea and her magical healing hands would come to this signal. No wonder these men were willing to let him join them; he had been given a magic candle that could call for help. Honiea hadn't given him the explanation, but somehow this must have been known among many others that worked amidst the dangers of the forest.

  It didn't take long. One moment she wasn't there, and the next, she was. Yeolani saw the honey hair and a bright flash of lavender before his eyes normalized and Honiea, appearing exactly like she had come from a surgery, with bloody smudges on her apron and carrying her pack.

  "You didn't give me a chance to explain," she said in a low murmur and then took the candle from him, blew it out, and then handed it back without another comment. Then she purposefully walked around Yeolani like he was a tree in the forest and stepped up to Arvid's side. Bowdry simply nodded a greeting but didn't question Honiea's magical arrival.

  Wordlessly, she assessed the situation and knelt to see under to Arvid’s crushed legs. Then she rose and motioned to everyone. "Step away from him, from the tree,” she ordered. “I don't want anyone else to get hurt. You too," and she waved at Yeolani who was too stunned to react. Hastily, he finally moved aside and joined the remainder of the men, away from the fallen tree and their pathetic excavation efforts. Like a statue, she stood over Arvid and pushed up her sleeves as if she were about to do some hard labor.

  Honiea lifted her arms high, and the tree rose magically at this signal without even her touch. She brought the massive trunk up a few feet, hovering effortlessly as if it were light as a feather. Then Honiea bent her wrists, and the log swung on its lighter end. Finally, Honiea lowered her arms, and the timber came to rest just beyond Arvid's legs.

  Now, everyone stood there with his mouth open in awe.

  "Boy, bring me my pack," she ordered, and Yeolani jumped at the command.
He lugged her pack as she knelt at Arvid's side and began moving her hands over his crushed body. Mercifully, he'd finally passed out, but Yeolani could see his legs and feet looked all wrong, and now blood from his crushed limbs began seeping through his pants. "Take his boots off carefully," Honiea ordered. "And what name are you using with these men?" she added silently.

  Yeolani almost answered aloud before he realized her mouth hadn't moved with that final question. Honiea was speaking directly into his mind.

  “Yeolani,” he replied carefully, under his breath and didn't look up but addressed his careful effort to not harm his friend as he pulled the boots free from his feet. What he saw, with bone and blood coming directly out from punctured skin, would normally have made most men sick, but Yeolani forced himself to look at Arvid's pale leg like it was simply a dead fish and moved to his friend's other boot.

  "That wasn't wise," came Honiea’s silent reply.

  Rather than open himself up to discovery or argument, Yeolani ignored her comment and continued working as directed and changed the subject. “The fairies, they were thick over this particular tree. Did they make it fall that way on purpose?”

  Honiea ignored him as her hands hovered over Arvid's legs and they squirmed as if there were some alien creatures in a sack rather than fractured bones and ruptured muscles moving into place.

  "There's wine in my pack. If he wakes while I'm doing this, give him some," she ordered aloud, and obediently, Yeolani rose to go rummage in her bag.

  To his surprise, there was nothing in the bag except a flask which he pulled out and then returned to Arvid's side. Next, she sent the other men to make splints for braces and poles for stretchers while Yeolani returned once again to the huge pack for bandages to tie the braces. Again, he found nothing but a long spool of linen gauze. When the men came with the splints, he helped lift Arvid's legs as she carefully set a brace on either side of his leg and wound the gauze around him until his leg had completely disappeared under the white wrapping. Then, without actually touching her work, she made it harden into a plaster cast, stiff and protective.

  Then, without comment, Honiea turned to address the other lumberjack with broken ribs and a punctured lung. Yeolani watched her gentle hands move over this man's pained body, and immediately the patient began breathing easier. The other uninjured men gathered around their comrades and began to fashion the stretchers to carry them back to camp. Yeolani stood by Arvid's side with the wine and didn't move to help, as if Honiea's magic included him and held him frozen.

  He watched his work companions make their ways back towards the camp while he felt completely rooted to the ground. They had left him there with Honiea, and she turned toward him, wiping her hands on a rag that hadn't been there before. Her movement finally shifted his mind back into gear, and he could ask questions, though too many percolated to the surface.

  Where had she been? How did the candle figure into her work? Was this all she could do, rescue fallen men and battle plagues? Where did she go when there was no candle calling her? How did that work, anyway? Was she the only one who could do this? Why had she given him the candle? Would any old candle work? Why here and not somewhere else in the Land, for surely there must be other emergencies to call her?

  Not one question came out of his mouth.

  Honiea, without his asking, began answering quite matter-of-factly. "I am called the Queen of Healing. It is what I do as a Wise One, though I can do just about anything I have the imagination to do. For example, lift a tree, make a knife, or listen to your thoughts. You too will one day have those abilities, though you won't have the healing instincts as I do. You will be the King of…of something else. We do not know yet where your gifts will reside.”

  “My husband, Vamilion, for example, is the King of Mountains. He works with earthquakes and avalanches, volcanoes, stone, gems and erosion, building with stone. He knows how to help the people who live in the mountains, miners and goatherds and the like. He is drawn to them. You too will be drawn to some kind of magic in the Land,” she promised and then continued with her explanation.

  “The candle is my Talisman. The people who make a living in dangerous ways…like lumberjacks, they know they can light a candle and it will call me. Also, I have a candle that allows me to travel instantly from wherever I am to where I am needed, and the healers know this as well. I gave you a candle so you could call me anytime you needed my help. My husband, on the other hand, can travel from mountain to mountain without such a device. However, this limits him. He must often walk where he needs to go if it’s on the coast or plains. Most often those that need his magic come to him at his home in the southern mountains. I spend most of my time flitting from crisis to crisis somewhere around the Land. It's a good life, but I travel a lot."

  "Also, you should know about Talismans. When a Wise One first goes Seeking they are searching for certain tools like my candle that they will use to help the Land. These, my candle and my pack, were specifically crafted to help me. You too will have Talismans that you will be drawn to and must Seek. Once you have found them, as well as the means to break the seal around your home, you will no longer be a Seeking King but a Seated King. Now, does that answer all your questions?"

  Yeolani rolled his eyes in alarm and sighed. "Hardly! For every question you answer, up pops two more like weeds I must pull in a garden. Why didn't you show you were this powerful? You could have stopped that Simten plague with a thought, but instead, you only helped us plug up the well and burn bodies. Why didn't you stop the tree from snapping like that? You could do anything. You could …you could be worshipped."

  Honiea shook her head sadly and began walking slowly toward the camp, and Yeolani was obliged to follow if he were to hear her reply.

  "I don't… I can't be everywhere. I came to Simten when I heard about the plague and by that time there were too many sick for me to stop what had started. I have no foreknowledge of accidents or epidemics. Life happens, and even God does not stop such bad things from occurring. It's life, and we learn and grow from the experiences we undergo. A Wise One would not be wise to prevent every mishap or bad thing from happening. Look at you: would you have grown and come into the forest, leaving your home and venturing out into the world if that plague had not taken your family? Or if your father had not beaten you? Perhaps if you were never seasick? Those bad things formed the nudge for you to launch yourself into the world, and you've become more than a peasant fisherman. And you will become even more someday. You will become a King, armed with magic, and will serve the people of the Land in miraculous ways. But you will not stop loss and pain, no matter how powerful you become. It is not the way of the wise."

  Yeolani could not think of what to say in response for the longest time. Finally, he took a swig of the wine he still held and then stopped in the path, suddenly exhausted by this conversation. "First, it was rules and danger. Now it's 'not wise.' You have a poor way of making ultimate magical power seem like a good lifestyle. I thought you wanted me to be a magician. You're not convincing me very well."

  Honiea walked back to him and reached for the wine, sharing a sip with him and giving it back. Then she sighed and looked up into the sky where their clearing had opened to the summer, not a fairy in sight. "I'm not good at this," she admitted finally. "We're human if you haven't noticed, and hardly worth worshipping. Wise Ones simply have talents that we're encouraged to use. I cannot and should not force you into magic. I'm just here to inform you of your options. You'll decide for yourself, and it's best to know all the good as well as the bad sides of a decision. But let me put it this way; would you still have come into the forest to become a woodsman if you knew how hard that work would be?"

  "Yes," he admitted frankly. "I was as hungry as a bear in spring, but I’m free to make up my mind. I knew it would be hard…but…but life is hard."

  Honiea smiled, nodding. "And so is being a magician. It’s a bit like being a woodsman. It's just different work. We aren't worshipped fo
r holding power over men, though the terms king or queen might suggest otherwise. I am the Queen of Healing because I control that aspect of the world, not the world itself. You too will find your gifts and then simply decide to pursue them or not. No one should force you."

  Something about her tone and her steady gaze into the sky again made Yeolani look at her quizzically. "What?" he asked.

  "Oh, I'm just reminding the fairies of that fact. They've been encouraging you, trying to convince you of your magical abilities, that's all."

  Yeolani looked down at his hands, suddenly embarrassed at his behavior toward the little sprites. "Encouraging, is that what they call it?"

  Yeolani then peered up into the sky too, but either they had fled, or the sun had grown too bright. "What am I supposed to tell my friends back at the camp? They'll want to know…they’ll be curious as a dog poking at an empty supper bowl."

  Before she answered, Honiea deliberately took the bottle of wine from Yeolani’s hand and made it disappear. “That’s up to you, but you’ve shared your real name with them. It was unwise, and now your name and my magic will be connected in their thoughts. If you remain, your innate magic will only grow, and they’ll suspect something. You should move on and find another place. You still have the candle and know how to use it now. Call me if you need help...and when you’re ready to learn more.”

  Then in a shimmering light, not unlike the fairies, she disappeared into the sky. Yeolani stood there in the clearing for quite a while, but eventually, with a sigh, he returned to the fallen tree, gathered up his scattered things and marched off toward camp with his mind full of many thoughts flitting like fairies.

  4

  Gil

  By mid-winter Yeolani was alone and starving again, approaching the base of the mountains. He had left the wood crew soon after he saw that Arvid recovered fully. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the companionship or having reliable meals, but Yeolani agreed deep down that staying behind would only bring magic to mind, and that couldn’t be good.