They embraced; soul to soul, pure and all-knowing. ‘Elimar needs my help and … my queen, if it’s not too late.’ She clearly remembered Artride now and felt a warmth around her heart.
Mabel smiled warmly at her, nodding in approval. Then hurry Tirs; before your blood turns thick and your body too cold to return to. Hurry … I will be here waiting for you always …
Now that she gave in on the thought to go back, she felt that she was pulled quickly backwards through the light blue tunnel. ‘I love you, Mabel!’ I love you. Her voice sounded pleasant, but her image dissolved in the distance, becoming smaller and smaller.
Watch out for … the woman of stone – was the last thing she heard her say; before she started to fall with an enormous speed, making her dizzy. The beautiful colours faded and it became darker and darker … And then she came down and landed most painfully.
She could feel pain again; all over, and cold. So much feeling and so overwhelming, she felt nauseous. Her soul had fallen back harshly into her body; head first, feet last. She was back. Back in the darkness …
CHAPTER 6
REAWAKENING
There is no greater force than love,
And no greater quality than truth
Gaelic pronoun
A heartbeat … blood being pumped persistently through veins; like a single stream after rainfall. Then silence. Another heartbeat, more rushing blood finding its way again, and a silence and then another, quicker rhythm and another, now more steady. The drum of life. Fresh blood rushing through veins, nourishing the organs, bringing them back to life. A sharp burning like a flame in her chest. Lungs wanting to be filled with air.
Suddenly a gasping sound; breathing? Trying to breath; filling lungs with cold moist air – holding it, letting go, drawing more in and breathing out only to gasp for more. Tirsa never knew it could be so difficult; so measured and so … painful.
Coldness; frozen stiff arms and legs. Shaking, pins and needles; awakening tingling limbs, realising who she was and where, with closed eyes.
She felt a light pressure on her lips; a soft kiss, whispering. ‘Tirsa, please.’ It sounded familiar, but it wasn’t the same voice she had heard moments ago; only moments ago … back there, where? She tried to think, but her head felt so heavy. And the cold and the thirst so overpowering.
Her stiff muscles strained themselves and her whole body started to shiver and shake violently, uncontrollable; like a spasm.
Artride was so shocked and overwhelmed to see movement in Tirsa again; she wanted to cry out, but quickly covered her mouth, her eyes wide open.
As quick as the shaking had come it had disappeared again; and Tirsa lay motionless again, yet silently breathing.
‘Tirsa?’ the queen’s quavering voice muttered and squeezed her hand to get a reaction; she removed the blanket she had placed on top of her from one of her saddlebags. Touching her chest she tried to feel for life inside. It slowly rose up and down, hopefully.
Artride started to weep out of pure joy and bit her knuckles to feel she wasn’t dreaming.
‘You’re alive! By the gods; alive!’
Tirsa heard her and tried to lift her heavy eyelids. She heard very clearly now; better than she ever did before, overwhelming her; the wind rushing through the leaves overhead and through the bushes, the grass. When she opened her eyes, she saw the splendour of bright sunlight on the fresh green canopy above her; the patterns of the leaves dancing carelessly in the tender movement of the wind. Greyish pink clouds were passing by and she smelled the scent of wet grass, mulch and leaves mixed with rain and … blood; death.
She remembered. She was one with all life now, truly. She knew her world was different from now on and would never be the same again.
She noticed a face staring at her patiently. The concerned face of Artride, blood and dirt stained.
‘My … Lady?’
The queen laughed and cried through her tears; covering her mouth, with such pure joy that Tirsa almost did not recognize her. It was a side of her until now unseen.
The colour was back on Tirsa’s face and the light in her eyes had returned, sparkling from within. It had been true; that white woman had not been lying and she actually succeeded. Artride realised this was probably the best moment in her entire life.
She softly embraced her companion. ‘Tirsa.’
Tirsa returned the gesture at last by putting her arms around the queen’s neck.
‘Volmer?’ she asked with a dry throat. She felt Artride hug her closer and there was no worry in her voice when she announced,’ He is gone.’
Tirsa nodded and thought about the word ‘gone’, for she knew now that there was no such thing as ‘gone’.
‘How?’
Artride let go of her and smiled faintly, ‘In self-defence.’
She nodded slowly and returned her smile, a little worried. ‘I am glad he didn’t get you,’ and felt a wave of guilt when she thought about wanting to stay in the Afterworld. ‘I failed in protecting you.’
Artride’s smile faded. ‘No, don’t say that, Tirsa.’
‘He could have killed you.’
‘But he did not. You were the target, I was his aim. He wanted me alive, but you had to be killed.’
Artride’s tear-stung eyes examined her all over and rested at her torn bloody surcoat. She plucked on the broken chain mail and touched the healed skin between her breasts. The wound was closed without so much as a scar and only the blood was a silent reminder of the past hour.
‘There are no words to express how glad I am you are back, Tirsa.’
Tirsa smiled lightly and wiped the tears from the other woman’s face with one hand, noticing the bloodstains on her cheek and touching the dried blood questionably.
‘That is yours, not mine. Look.’ And she pointed at the hole in her clothes. ‘That’s where you have been hit. I had to pull the arrow out.’ Drowsily she glanced from the hole in her surcoat to the queen.
‘But there is no wound?’
‘It’s healed and it was not my doing this time.’
Tirsa couldn’t fathom it. It just wasn’t natural.
‘You were dead, Tirsa and beyond my powers. A white lady who said she was some sort of guide called you back. I do not now how, but all I care about is that you’re back.’ And she glimpsed thoughtfully around. ‘I never even had a chance to thank her. I presume we shan’t be seeing her anymore.’ And looking at Tirsa she added, ‘But you must be exhausted, can you stand?’
Artride helped her up. Tirsa struggled, feeling weary and trembling on her legs. She saw the dead bodies of Gradolf nearby and that of Volmer further away. The air already stank of death.
Together they left the awful scenery, Tirsa leaning ashamedly on the queen for help, walking past the lifeless body of the faithful mount, Xaverius. Artride started to remove the saddlebags with her things and said goodbye. She hated to leave him there, but promised his soul to come back and give him a proper funeral.
‘He has no pain anymore,’ Tirsa muttered and Artride had to swallow a knot away.
They walked about half a mile more before they found Tirsa’s mare, Fiosa; as if she was waiting.
‘Amazing.’ Artride sighed and watched Tirsa approach her horse carefully. Fiosa had her ears pricked backwards from fear. Clearly Tirsa stunk of death, but there was love in her brown eyes and when she rubbed her nose, softly muttering, the mare relaxed.
Nearby they made camp in the cover of a dense pinewood, both feeling completely depleted.
~ ~ ~
‘Do you … want to talk about it?’ Artride gingerly tried.
Tirsa had been unable to sleep or eat after the recent events, having too much to ponder about and as a result sat staring into the air. Artride had built a simple hut of branches and leaves against the returning rain and left her at peace. It was in the midst of night and she had tried to sleep, however she could not deal with the continuing silence. Even though Tirsa was back among the living, she wasn’t
really present.
Artride respected her too much to interfere, but thought she might want help dealing with whatever was bothering her.
The blonde woman was wrapped in her blanket trying to get warm and looked tired and confused. The simple hut was leaking here and there, and the only sound was that of the falling of raindrops, intermittently through the leaves and needles, on the forest floor, branches, grass and mulch of their hut.
Slowly she nodded as Artride shuffled a little closer to be able to hear her above the sound of the rain. It was almost completely dark, but the sound of her voice and her words were all the queen needed at the moment; some proof of her existence. She laid a comforting hand on her knee, which startled Tirsa and shook her up a little. Her heart was thumping against her chest. No pain anymore; however, so exhausted, like she never had been before. Artride heard her drawing a deep breath.
‘I … never knew what would happen when we die.’ She began with an unsteady voice. ‘I thought about it a lot, who doesn’t? But then again when the final moment comes … let’s say I wasn’t disappointed. Although I have no idea if this happens to everyone. All I know is that what I experienced was lovely and peaceful, like I became a part of contentment itself.’ Her eyes glowed like stars in the dark when she remembered the sceneries and her voice was full of excitement, like never before.
‘The colours were brighter, the soft sounds like harmonious … music, the people I loved … so thoughtful and kind; full of understanding.’
‘You saw people?’
‘Yes and they are all right.’ And she laughed to the surprise of Artride. She waited for Tirsa to continue, but the young woman sighed when she thought about it and after a short moment resumed, ‘It’s hard to explain in words, but when I was there I seemed to understood everything and everyone. I was … one.’
There was remorse in her voice as she talked, so much that Artride almost felt guilty and selfish she had wanted her back. It sounded like she had already been happy there in that short moment of her death. Nevertheless, the white woman had made it clear Tirsa had to really want to return, in order to come back, like she did.
Tirsa somehow sensed it and added more softly, ‘They made it clear to me I wasn’t supposed to be there yet; my tasks are not over, but that one day I will return. Knowing that comforts me greatly.’
‘I want you to know how glad I am you came back, Tirsa. I really am,’ Artride sounded near to tears.
‘I know and I am grateful too. I have treated life and myself badly. That will change from now on. Almost every day I face death, but I feel that in order to really fathom life we have to die. Sometimes a little.’
She sounded different; calmer, wiser and enlightened.
‘There was this voice calling me back, and I was torn between two worlds for a moment, but in my heart I knew what I had to do. This voice; could she be what you called the White Lady?’
‘I think so. She suddenly appeared when you lay lifeless, and offered to help. She said she couldn’t have done the same in our country, but here in the Magical Land everything seems possible.’
‘I hope she is right when it comes down to a counter spell for the curse as well.’
Artride knew what she meant and asked, ‘But could it also mean there is no death here?’
‘I don’t think so, I do not know why I was saved and if that would happen every time. Ultimately death is unavoidable, even here, eventually; but I feel we don’t have to fear it so much. In any case we mustn’t fear death back in Ceartas either, for even though death is always near, it is not something we have to be frightened of. It’s an essential part of life, a next phase. When we live in fear … we don’t really live.’
‘I have never feared death really; it’s just that it would be such a waste to lose it all, and especially now. Is that the reason you returned?’ Could that be true?
She heard Tirsa move her blanket.
‘I realised there was something important to go back for, yes. I couldn’t have helped Elimar, or you otherwise.’
After a short silence Artride kindly spoke, ‘Try to get some sleep, Tirsa.’ However, she noticed that her eyes had closed already and she was drifting off.
~ ~ ~
It was the silent moment of the early morning hours, when the land is caught between a light sleep and awakening. The air was still swollen with the scents of the night, the pine trees and the rain. Inside the hut where the women lay asleep it was dry, apart from a few moist needles on the ground where the roof had leaked.
Tirsa opened her eyes to stare at the familiar sight of dark tree trunks. The sight of trees had always comforted her in every season; their soothing constant beings, old and wise, never judging. Now that she had some sleep, she remembered everything that happened, and laid thinking about the recent events, and Mabel, until she had to move her stiff limbs to avoid a cramp in her hip. Could she ever let her go truly? She was her first love after all. And could she love again? Before this happened it had never even crossed her mind.
When she turned over, she realised the warmth she had felt at her back was that of Artride clinging closely to her.
What a failure I am; to be nurtured by the queen over and over again! But then she thought about the Sisters of the Sword; a group of fierce mercenaries in Zoria, always travelling in couples, pledged to protect and help each other during battles. They lend their bodies and souls for that goal. How can I even compare us with them! I am a warrior all right; but Artride is still a queen, a lady and I am supposed to be her bodyguard! And what a mistake it has proven!
And then suddenly, like a flash of lightning, she remembered the words spoken by Mabel, Look out for the woman of stone …What and who did she mean by that; Artride? She wasn’t made of stone; she had seen her cry. But who then?
Puzzled, she stood up, not wanting to wake her, and gathered her damp clothes to put them on again over her sleeveless shirt; the only garniture which had remained dry in the protection of the saddlebag. She didn’t bring an extra uniform; therefore the wet, mud and blood stained tunic had to do for now, until she could wash it in a river or lake. She examined the mail skirt closely and came to the conclusion she could not mend it right now; she lacked the tools to repair the broken metal rings. It didn’t do me much good anyway. The hole was not that big; only a couple of rings were scattered, but she felt reluctant to put the heavy thing on again. Foolish or not, she put it away in her bag.
When she glimpsed at the serene face of the queen, she felt even worse. She had to kill her own freaking uncle because I was shot down! And now … who knows what will happen when she returns to Ceartas without a counter spell for the curse for killing him. Most likely she will be punished, even if she is the Queen of Ceartas! If she is not even allowed to travel without a guard unpunished, what will the penalty be for murder, even if it was in self-defence! And she remembered that she had mentioned no one ever got a trial when breaking a law; there was always a penalty and the queen would be no exception.
Murder meant death, period. Gods no.
Now you know what you have to do … a voice spoke in her head, her own or … Mabel’s? She wasn’t sure, but yes, one thing she knew: there was no turning back without a spell, or not only her brother would die but her queen as well, and with her death the hope of a decent future for Ceartas would certainly be lost.
Absentmindedly she went outside to tend to her mare Fiosa and prepare breakfast. When she stared in those big brown mirrors of eyes she saw herself reflected; her blonde hair fussed and tangled. She started to brush her hair and then tug it into one hightail at the back of her head. She could not get rid of the taste of blood, however, and she wondered if everything in her body was properly healed. Well, she reckoned, for she didn’t feel any pain other than morning stiffness and her rumbling stomach.
It was a clear brisk morning and dusk drew in. The first signs of the rising sun appeared; a marvellous yellow and bright pink glow illuminated the slow drifting clouds. It was
almost a leftover of what she had seen. She had had spiritual moments like this before; usually sunrise or sunset does something to a person and you feel one and there is no room for thoughts.
And she remembered the feeling she had felt on the other side; it had been a similar experience. She took a deep breath; it felt exquisite.
This is life, my destiny. And she thought about the things she had learned in the Afterworld; not so different from what she initially had known when she was a child. Before the confusion started. From now on she promised she would embrace life again. Now that she knew her father was still there, and Mabel, and not gone or lost; only clouded from her view for a little while longer, but present somewhere …
We will meet again, love … She looked at the fierce red sun showing itself above the treetops and the clouds. Is that where souls live? She regained strength and courage, if not for herself, then for her brother and the queen. Others need my help and I won’t fail again. We cannot afford that.
The queen noticed soon that her bodyguard had gone outside and joined her shortly after. They spoke softly and both avoided the past events’ issues. What was there to say? She surely had a lot more to tell, and Artride was curious; but remained composed. The shock of the experience might still come.
Tirsa found it kind and began to respect the queen more with every day for her ways, trying to forget the vague rest. She still didn’t know if she was completely honest with her, but then again why would she be? Tirsa was just her bodyguard and a queen didn’t need to explain everything to her. She had just hoped she would have told her about this uncle and his bodyguard, and well … no she should have been on her guard anyway; protecting the life of her queen, so it would not have made much difference. Maybe she had already said more than she had to anyone, and Tirsa should feel honoured for that fact alone. But still …
A bodyguard wasn’t supposed to question a queen, but she was Tirsa Lathabris first of all, and she just had to see through her mask and look at the true person behind the queen. And what she had seen so far seemed sincere, so she did not think about it anymore, for now.
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