by Moira Young
He’s kept his voice low. Leashed. Now, in the silence, the air’s thick with the roots of our lives. They crowd me. Press me. Choke me.
My sister don’t need yer help, he says. C’mon, y’all, we’re outta here.
Emmi says, But, Lugh—
Can it, Em, he says. Tommo, bring Saba.
Tommo slips his arm around my waist. Helps me up. Tracker’s got to his feet. He’s whinin, lookin between us an Auriel. Nero caw caw caws.
We cain’t go! cries Emmi. No, Lugh, this is wrong!
Auriel grabs my hand. I can help you, she says. I can heal you. I can banish the dead, put yer bow back in yer hands. I can prepare you fer what lies ahead.
West is what lies ahead, says Lugh. The Big Water.
You won’t go west, she says. I’m sorry, that ain’t what I see.
What you see, what you see! You big fake! He lunges an grabs somethin from a table. Suddenly, a spear of light shatters the gloom of the tent. Auriel shrinks away, throwin her hand over her eyes.
Lugh’s holdin a piece of lookin glass. He’s played it in the light from one of the lamps, right into her face. He tosses it at her feet. Tell yer nature guide to fix yer gawdamn eyes, he says.
As he goes to leave, Auriel starts to speak.
She was a rare beauty, was Allis, in body an soul. Eyes like a spring sky an long golden hair, the same as her firstborn, the child of her heart. She named him Lugh. Lugh, Lugh with yer eyes so blue, I could sail me away on yer eyes.
Lugh’s stopped in his tracks. He stands with his back to Auriel, his tense, hunched back. He cain’t see what she’s doin.
She stands stock still, eyes wide. It’s clear she’s listenin to somethin. Her voice runs like shallow water over stones. Quickly, lightly. Every now an agin, a shudder racks her body.
My flesh is all goosebumps. It’s Ma she’s talkin about. The song she made up an sang to Lugh when we was kids. Auriel’s goin on.
But Allis couldn’t stay. She birthed the baby, then she bled fer two days an died. Don’t leave me, sweet Allis, don’t leave me, my heartsoul, my life. Poor Willem, her death left him broken, he was never the same. Love makes you weak. Who’d wanna end up like him? I ain’t never gonna love nobody, it’s better that way.
Auriel stops, a dazed look on her face. She staggers an Emmi catches her. My skin crackles. We stare at her, me, Em an Tommo. She was speakin our lives. How Ma died. How Pa was. What Lugh always says.
Lugh turns slowly back into the tent. He’s pale. His eyes dark pools of shock. His voice a bruised whisper as he says, How dare you?
She ain’t no fake, Emmi says.
I wanna stay, I says. Please, Lugh.
A long moment. I can see him fight his need to run. Then, Two days an two nights, he says to Auriel. That’s how long you got. Yer time starts now. An I’ll be watchin you. I’m gonna pertect my sister. An if you do her wrong, I’ll do you wrong tenfold, d’you unnerstand?
Auriel nods.
I need some air, he says. C’mon, Tommo.
With that, Lugh disappears into the rainy night.
An I’m suddenly aware of Tommo. I’m still leanin on his shoulder. He’s still got his arm around my waist. He’s tall as me. I never noticed till now. A deep flush colours his cheeks.
I’m fine, I says. Go on.
He hesitates a moment. Then he’s gone too.
The air in the tent, so heavy with tension, lightens with the two of ’em gone.
Auriel sinks onto the cot. Her eyes meet mine. She’s got what she wanted. What I need. It’s took it outta her, tired her, that last . . . the thing with Lugh, whatever that was.
Em rushes to kneel at her feet. How d’you do that? she says. Can you show me how?
Emmi, let her be, I says.
It’s all right. Auriel smiles at her. When I was eight year, she says, I was playin by myself in the woods, when I heard this music. Voices singin, kinda shimmerin in the air. I followed the voices to a little clearin. The sun, the light there was so dazzlin, an that’s where the music was comin from, it was the light. It was singin. I stepped outta the trees into it, into the light an the music an . . . I went on a journey of the spirit. I was unconscious fer many days, my family cared fer my body, watched over me, but my spirit was elsewhere. I was brought back by my grandfather, by Namid. He became my teacher. He died last winter. I miss him very much.
Will you teach me? says Emmi.
Auriel shakes her head. First you must hear the call an be brave enough to follow it, she says. Then yer teacher will come.
I’m gonna listen real hard, says Emmi.
Auriel looks at me. Yer exhausted, she says. We’ll eat, then you need to git some sleep. You an I, we’ll make a start in the mornin.
She serves up tins of thin soup. Emmi, Tracker an Nero hunker down to fill their bellies. As I take mine, Auriel touches my hand. In a low voice she says, The deaf boy. Take heed, Saba. He’s in love with you.
Lugh an me lie on our backs on the shore at Silverlake. We’re eight year old. Pa an Ma lie between us. Ma’s got a round belly from the babby that’s growin inside of her. It’s a soft summer night. We’re all lookin at the stars.
Tell us, Pa, says Lugh.
Yeah, Pa, I says. Tell us agin.
Not tonight, he says.
Oh, go on, Willem, says Ma. You know how they love to hear.
He turns his head an they smile at each other. That secret smile they got jest between the two of ’em. It makes my insides go all funny. He takes her hand an kisses it.
Well, he says, everythin’s set. It’s all fixed. The lives of everybody who’s ever bin born.
The lives of everybody still waitin to be born, says Ma, layin her hand on her belly.
It was all set in the stars the moment the world began, says Pa. The time of yer birthin, the time of yer death, even what kinda person yer gonna be, good or bad.
What am I gonna be, Pa? says Lugh.
Oh, yer one of the good ones, says Ma. She strokes Lugh’s face, smilin at him. My beautiful golden boy.
An me? I says. What am I gonna be, Pa?
Pa don’t answer. He gathers me into his arms, hugs me in tight to his side. His heart beats into me, strong an steady. I breathe his warm, safe skin.
We’re flesh an blood an heart an soul. The four of us. Now an always, till the end of time.
Suddenly a star goes streakin across the sky.
Lugh points at it. Look, Saba! A shootin star!
We watch as it slashes through the darkness. So bright. So fast. Gone so quick.
I tug on Pa’s shirt. Pa? You never said. What’m I gonna be? Good or bad?
He kisses the top of my head. Whispers in my ear, so’s only him an me can hear.
You, my darlin daughter, are gonna be somethin else entirely.
I open my eyes. I’m lyin curled up on my side on the floor of Auriel’s tent. Nero’s tucked hisself between my chin an my chest. Lugh sleeps like he always does. With his head hidden in his arms. Pertectin hisself, Ma used to say. They’re silent, him an Tommo an Emmi. Deep in the black of slumber.
The rain’s stopped. It’s night. Stars twinkle through the smokehole.
Auriel’s awake. She sits in a small rocker beside the firepit, starin into the low flames. She’s wrapped in a dark shawl. Tracker’s head rests heavy on her feet. His great paws twitch in his sleep.
Ancient wolfdog dreams, she says.
She didn’t look, I didn’t make a sound, but she knew I was awake.
He lived with our friend Mercy, I says. Far away from here. It was strange. He jest showed up. Led me right to you.
We speak in low voices, so’s not to wake th’others.
He’s been hangin around the edges of the camp fer a while now, says Auriel. I wondered about him.
I thought Mer
cy might be here, I says.
The dog comes an goes, she says. No one claims him. But he’s chosen you. He runs with you now. The wolfdog an the crow. Fit companions fer a warrior.
I ain’t no warrior, I says. I’m done with all that.
I drape the blanket around my shoulders. I scoop up Nero an go sit on the ground across from Auriel. I hug him to me, buryin my nose in his warm feathers. He grumbles a bit, but don’t wake. Auriel reaches down, takes a pinch of somethin from a tin beside her an throws it on the fire. It flares blue fer a second. A strange, sweet smell starts to wind around the tent.
She turns her head an looks at me. You was dreamin jest then, she says.
Not a dream, I says. I was rememberin. Somethin Pa said to me once. A long time ago, when I was a kid. I fergot all about it.
Our eyes meet in the firelight. Hers so pale an wild.
There are some people, she says, not many, who have within them the power to change things. The courage to act in the service of somethin greater than themselves.
To change things, I says.
Through their actions, she says, they can turn the tide of human affairs.
They, I says. You mean me.
The Tonton grow in strength an purpose, she says. They have a new leader, a man of vision. The Pathfinder, they call him.
The Pathfinder, I says.
A new leader fer the Tonton. I git a sudden, clear picture in my mind. Of DeMalo at Pine Top Hill. Turnin his back on Vicar Pinch, ridin away before the battle started, takin a good few Tonton with him. But that don’t mean he’d take over. Jest that he warn’t willin to put his life on the line fer a madman. He’s probly long gone.
Day after day, people arrive here, says Auriel. All with the same story. They’ve had to flee their homes. Run before they was killed by the Tonton. They’re grabbin land. Any earth good enough to work, any clean water. Then they move their own people in to work it – Stewards of the Earth. Any day now, everythin east of the Waste’ll be in Tonton hands. New Eden, they call it. An they decide who’s allowed to live there. Who’s good enough to live in their new world.
I done enough already, I says. Hopetown’s gone. Vicar Pinch is dead. All I want is fer you to fix me. Make me myself agin, so I can go west with my family. So I can be with Jack. He’s there, waitin fer me.
She throws another pinch on the fire. We all got our parts to play in this, she says. Him, yer sister, yer brother, Tommo. The wolfdog. Me. Nero. Long before you was born, Saba, a train of events was set in motion.
You mean fate, I says. I don’t believe in it.
Not fate, she says. Destiny. I’m speakin what my guides tell me, what I see in you. Fer you, Saba, all roads lead to the same place. It’s better you act now than later. Many people – not jest now but still to come – many people need you.
The same thing Pa said to me, jest before he died.
They’re gonna need you, Saba. Lugh an Emmi. An there’ll be others too. Many others. Don’t give in to fear. Be strong, like I know you are.
You an I got much to do, says Auriel, an very little time to do it in. But first, you need to sleep. She stirs the flames. The sweet smell grows stronger.
My eyelids start to droop. I lay myself by the fire, me an Nero. I close my eyes. My bones sob. Throb. I’m so weary with tryin to hold myself together. Tryin to hold back the darkness.
The heavy hands of sleep soothe me. Smooth me. Ease me down.
I look down down down to the bottom. To the ancient bed of the lake. Where the dark things crouch. Where the old things wait. Where they crouch an wait . . . fer me.
Don’t be afeared. Auriel’s voice whispers inside my head. I’ll be right here, walkin with you in yer dreams. Fer in our dreams we find ourselves. Who we were. Who we are. Who we can become. Sleep. Dream.
A old man stands by a twisted tree. His skin gleams, a rich nut brown. His white hair coils down his back. We’re alone, him an me, on a wide, flat plain. No hills, no grass, no life. There’s a darkenin sky. The wind blows hard. The tree shines silver white.
I never seen him before, yet I know him. I know him fer what he is. Warrior. Bowyer. Shaman. He holds a bow in his hands. It’s white, like the twisted tree. Pale, silvery white.
An I know why I’m here. What to do.
I go to the tree. I crouch. I wrap my arms round the trunk an pull. It comes easy. No roots. As I lift it free, I can see what lies beneath. A gravepit. A body. Somebody dead, laid out in the pit full length. The head’s bin wrapped in a dark red shawl. The body’s dressed in armour. Rusted an battered, a warrior, then. Man or woman, who knows?
I look at the man. He nods. I kneel. I draw the shawl away.
There ain’t no face. Jest a shape. A blank. Smooth as the smoothest stone. An stone to the touch, too, cold an hard. No eyes, no nose, no lips.
Then the shaman’s gone. An I’m alone. The tree bursts green with leaf. Its branches, its trunk, alive an new.
I hold the white bow in my hands. An the wild wide wind mutters my name.
Saba. Saba. Saba.
More new arrivals, says Auriel.
We stop. I squint aginst the sun, fierce an harsh. Down the far end of camp, a mulecart jolts to a halt. The driver sits there a long moment. Then she climbs out, stiff legged an clumsy. Them that’s nearby stir theirselfs to lend a hand. The lone passenger – looks to be a man – don’t move.
What’re they all doin here? I says.
They’re headed west, she says. They cain’t go back to New Eden an they cain’t stay here fer long. They’re on their way to the Big Water, to a better life. They’ve heard the stories – the good earth, the good air – jest like yer brother. That’s what they want too.
Not jest Lugh, I says. Him an me, we want the same.
Lugh dreams of a settled life, she says. He longs to plant hisself in one place, plant the land around him. His hands itch to work good earth, put food on the table that he’s grown hisself, raise children. That ain’t you. You cain’t be tied. You’ve gotta be free to soar. To fly.
She looks at me. At least, I think she does. She’s wearin a dark eyeshield. Any glint of light – the sun hittin water or metal in a certain way – it’s liable to set her off in a vision, so she’s gotta keep herself pertected. She waits. Like I oughta say somethin. Maybe I should. But I cain’t think why or what. I’m slow. Dull. My head’s still thick with the dreams of my night.
Auriel’s draped her shawl over her head. My eyes keep goin to it. It’s dark red. The colour of blood. The same as the one in my dream.
Somebody dead, laid out in the pit full length. The head’s bin wrapped in a dark red shawl.
I wish she’d take it off. The shades of the dead press on me. I don’t see ’em. But I feel ’em, so close around me I cain’t hardly breathe.
I dreamed of a old man, I says.
Yes, she says. Namid.
He gave me a bow, I says.
Yes, she says.
We pick our way down the camp, along the road between the shelters. The rain-churned earth’s dried into ruts ankle deep.
Her an me’s on walkabout. That’s what she calls it. She feels responsible fer these people. Lost souls, she calls ’em. She’s bin up since before dawn, talkin to the welcome committee an the privy detail an the health an death committee an who knows what else. She’s even thinkin she might lead everybody out west herself. She’s waitin fer a sign from the light, from her nature guides.
They need a leader, she says. These people ain’t like you, Saba. They’ve spent their lives in the dirt, cowerin at the feet of the strong. They believe it’s all they’re fit fer.
It’s a slow walkabout. Auriel’s a mighty wonder. They rush at her, to kiss her hands, to touch her tunic. She speaks to each one, askin about their child, their wife, the old woman they travelled with. Me, they only look at sidewise. Speci
ally with Nero ridin my shoulder an Tracker by my side. But at least people ain’t holdin their charms aginst me today.
I look back. Lugh, Tommo an Em dog our footsteps, twenny paces or so behind. Auriel asked that they let her an me alone, but Lugh ain’t one to be told. He warned he’d be watchin her an he means it.
Not that there’s anythin to watch. The first thing I did today was ask her to git on with it. To gimme a potion or bleed me or read the stars or whatever it is she’s gotta do to fix me so’s we can git back on the road west. She said it don’t work that way. That I’ll know when I’m ready. After that, she wouldn’t say no more.
The next tent along on the right, two painted ladies sit out front, watchin the world go by. The younger one – plump as a pigeon – sits with her feet up, coaxin a rattly tune from the strings of a banjax. Her friend squats on a stool, her skirt hitched above her knees, smokin a pipe. She’s a handsome woman, loaded down with jangly bracelets an necklaces. There’s a ring on every toe an finger. Dozens of ’em in her ears too.
In their ragged finery they’re a strange sight among these worn-out dusty folk. Like colourful birds blown off course. Nero hops onto the pipe-smoker’s shoulder an starts pickin at her flounces.
Would you credit that, Meg? she says. He thinks I’m a crow.
Ferget the bird, Lilith. Unless my eyes deceive me, th’ Angel of Death has come to call. Meg lays her banjax aside. She sashays over, lookin me up an down, sayin, You’d be a big hit in our line of business, Angel.
She moves in so close that I can smell her. Sweat an sweetgrass. A big hit, she says. Mean . . . magnificent . . . a bit grubby. I seen you fight once. I still dream about it. She leans in. Her red painted lips brush mine. I always did wanna kiss a girl with a price on her head, she says.
A price, I says.
Lilith takes the pipe outta her mouth. Didn’t you know? Oh yeah, the Pathfinder wants you real bad. Anybody harms a hair on th’ Angel’s head gits theirs chopped off, an it’s a parcel of good New Eden land to the person who delivers you alive to Resurrection.
