Silver Dew

by Suzi Davis

  I rarely left the temple. It wasn’t because I wasn’t allowed, I simply chose not to. I hated the looks of awe and fear that the villagers would give me. I despised the way they wouldn’t meet my eye when I spoke to them. I resented them for the way they made me feel – hurt, isolated, inhuman. I blamed them for my mother’s rejection, for her abandonment. I convinced myself that I was better than them, that they deserved my disdain and I avoided the nearby villages. Yet even though my face was rarely seen outside the temple walls, my power, beauty and apparent youth were instantly recognized and acknowledged, my reputation preceding me wherever I went.

  As I contemplated my past, I wandered closer to the temple gates. I found myself standing before them now, looking down the hill to the small village below. The rich green grass of the surrounding countryside glowed emerald under the bright sun and unfolded like a beautiful tapestry before me. The hills rolled all around, creating a small valley in which the village was located. The temple where I stood was on top of the highest hill, the cliffs and the nearby ocean just visible from where I stood. The lands were vibrant and lush and full of life. My heart felt dead and lifeless in contrast. I feared I was coming too close to wanting this life to be over with. Was I ready to move on to the next? Would I find any love or acceptance there? Would I ever?

  I was distracted from my dark thoughts by the movement below me. Just where the path down to the village crested the hill, a young man had appeared, breathing hard and covered in sweat as he jogged up the steep path.

  I hesitated as I watched him approach. I knew it would be better to withdraw within the safety of the temple’s walls and call one of my Sisters to assist him. It would be expected of me – one as powerful as I was not typically involved in the villagers’ trivial problems and I had no desire to change that. But still… there was something about this boy that made me pause. His dark head was down, his whole body radiating his determination to reach his goal. He was close enough now that I could hear the rhythm of his feet beating against the path. And despite myself, I was curious. I was overwhelmed by the sudden desire to speak to him, to know why he was in such a rush to reach the temple though there was no reason why I should care.

  Without any further hesitation, I stepped forward through the temple’s gates and walked to meet him on the path.

  He glanced up as we neared one another, his gray eyes steadily meeting mine. I couldn’t imagine how I looked to him, stepping forward from the temple with my long, white blonde hair and dark robes swirling in the breeze around me. His eyes were bright and sharp, the intelligence and kindness in them obvious in just one glance. He stood before me boldly with his shoulders pushed back, his stance straight and tall. He didn’t speak immediately; he looked surprised and was obviously too out-of-breath to form words. I knew he must recognize me but he didn’t look afraid or intimidated as I had expected. The look in his eyes was one of steady determination and hesitant wariness. I waited patiently for him to speak, studying him all the while.

  “Priestess.” He somehow managed to get the word out between ragged breaths. He dropped his gaze as he spoke and made the slightest of bows with his head. He immediately straightened up, his eyes snapping back to my face as he rushed to continue. “Please, I beg your assistance. The Gods have truly favored me today by bringing me before you, for you are the only one who can possibly save my mother.”

  I should have turned and walked away right then and there. But by the will of the Gods, I didn’t. “What ails her?” I calmly asked.

  “My mother births a child as we speak but the midwife fears she is too old and the babe too big. She says they are both lost to us.” His voice caught as he spoke, the emotion flaring in his eyes. His breathing was slowing and steadying now. I noticed he was trembling slightly despite the hot day and the sweat on his brow.

  “The midwife knows more of childbirth than I,” I readily admitted. It was true, living in a temple with a group of women sworn to chastity, I had never even witnessed a birth and had only the vaguest idea of what the process was about. “If the midwife has pronounced the situation hopeless, I am sorry to say that it must be so.”

  “No.” His eyes flared once more and flooded with unshed tears. The way he spoke to me so defiantly, so fearlessly, made me reconsider him. “I refuse to accept that. She is my mother, she is dying, she’s afraid and in pain, and her babe is dying inside of her. You must help. Please. I beg you. Please.” Tears spilled down his cheeks as he spoke, leaving clear trails through the dusty grime that coated his face. His eyes shone with the tears, so bright and sparkling that I was unable to immediately look away. My heart stirred within my chest, the sudden empathy I felt for this young man powerful and unexpected. I knew in that moment that I would not be able to refuse him though I couldn’t yet understand why. It had to be the will of the Gods.

  “I will come,” I agreed. Relief flooded his face, words of gratitude and thanks already forming on his lips. “But I make no promises. Most likely your mother and the babe will both die, but I shall do what I can.”

  His expression became weary and somber once more at my pronouncement. He nodded his head in agreement. “I appreciate the truth of your words. Thank you.”

  The young man sounded so genuinely grateful that for a moment, I was at a loss for words. I blinked twice, quickly regaining my composure and wondering over the strange effect this boy was having over me.

  “There is little time. Let us make haste.” I began marching down the path as I spoke, the young man’s long legs and steady stride an even match for my own.

  We half-marched, half-ran down the winding path that led us to the village. I asked the boy a few quick questions about his mother as we approached. He had three older sisters who were caring for her alongside the midwife. He was the youngest sibling of the four. Many had been shocked when his mother had conceived another child near sixteen-summers after his own birth. I guessed her age to be close to that of the Head Priestess’s – far too old to be bearing children as far as my limited knowledge told me. I could not imagine how I was going to help this poor woman or if it were even possible for me to do so but I had told the boy I would try, and so I would.

  Thankfully the boy’s family lived at the edge of the village, close to the base of the hill. We passed only a few other villagers as we made our way there, all of whom gasped at the sight of me and hurriedly scurried away. They feared me, they rejected me, they didn’t remember that I had once been one of them. My heart wept from the aching loneliness that chewed at its edges and my anger flared, cold and sharp. I pushed all the emotions aside, maintaining the calm, collected composure that was expected for someone of my station.

  As we neared the young man’s home, the sounds of his mother’s agonized moans and cries began to reach my ears. I needed no further direction and marched ahead of him, striding up to the sturdy little hut with its finely woven roof. I pushed the door open without announcing myself, knowing it was not truly necessary. The shocked gasps as I entered the dimly lit room confirmed that I had been recognized.

  I took the scene in quickly. Three young women knelt about the mother’s bed. They were all quite attractive and had long, dark, nearly black hair and bright blue eyes. The similarity between the sisters and their brother outside was obvious. Their mother looked to be even older than I had expected, streaks of silver twisted throughout her loose dark hair that stuck to her sweaty forehead. She had obviously once been an attractive woman but her face was now worn with exhaustion, her skin pale as death, her beautiful gray eyes clouded with fear and pain. Her swollen belly protruded beneath a coarse blanket, her arms and legs so thin and frail in comparison. I quickly took note of the pile of blood-stained rags nearby and the large dark stain on the dirt floor. I took a quick, steadying breath.

  “Your son has brought me to help you.” I spoke only to the woman, watching her without displaying any emotion as her eyes tried to focus on my face. “I will do all I can but no matter what you may have he
ard, there are limits to my powers. I will try to save you.”

  “And the babe?” she asked, her voice stronger than I had expected, her words carrying a clear confidence just like her son’s. “Please, save my baby.”

  “I will try.”

  I turned to the daughters then who all immediately dropped their eyes and shrank back from me in fear. I swallowed down my disgust at their reaction.

  “Leave us,” I quietly instructed. They rushed, almost gratefully, from the small room.

  “Who are you?” the woman asked in the silence that followed. She peered at me in disorientation, her eyes now focused on my face, her expression one of confusion and vague recognition. “You are familiar to me.”

  I was about to answer that I was a Priestess from the temple, one of the most powerful ever known… but then, for some reason, I changed my mind.

  “I was born in this village many years ago. My mother’s name was Liadan, and my name is Caoilinn.” It felt strange to say my given name out loud, so few people had ever heard it. The woman relaxed though and nodded slightly.

  “I remember your mother, she was a good woman. I forgot she gave a babe up to the temple. Thank you for coming, Caoilinn.”

  “It is my duty but I am glad I came,” I quietly answered surprised and a little unnerved by the sudden sense of kinship radiating out from the woman towards me.

  I began working on the woman as fast and thoroughly as I was able to. I tried everything I could possibly think of, combining my natural skill and ability with my temple training in a way that I had never attempted before. I chanted and prayed, I blessed her, I performed spells and incantations, I drew designs over her body and belly, I strained with all of my power, with the whole essence of my being to save her. But no matter how strongly I wanted for her to survive, it was all to no avail. She was dying.

  Eventually I sent for the midwife. I let the boy and his sisters know that we were about to deliver the child and that though it may survive, their mother would not live for long afterwards. It was the woman’s choice and they all accepted it. The young man was the only one brave enough to respond; he whispered his thanks through his tears.

  It was not long after that I watched the midwife deliver the baby boy. It was the first birth I had ever witnessed and I found myself awed and nearly brought to tears by the beauty of it. I had seen many amazing and miraculous things in my young life but it was all nothing in comparison to this. As I saw the pure joy and love on the mother’s face as she took the small, crying babe into her arms, I realized how sheltered my life in the temple had been. My heart tore open even wider as I felt the loss of my own mother, my own family, my life. The pain hit me hard as I seemed to really feel it for the first time. But I had little time to wonder over this miracle of life that I had witnessed, now all of my energy and power had to be focused on the mother.

  “I can only hold her here for a little while longer.” I forced the words out between my clenched teeth. The mother didn’t appear to hear me, completely at peace and captivated by her new baby, held weakly in her arms. The midwife reacted immediately.

  “I’ll send the girls in to say their goodbyes,” she muttered, head down and shoulders hunched as she scuttled around me.

  “No,” the mother immediately objected in that surprisingly clear and firm voice. “I know I don’t have long. Please, ask my Seamus to come.”

  The midwife nodded in understanding and disappeared outside. Only seconds after the door had closed behind her it burst open again and Seamus, the dark-haired young man who had first brought me to his mother’s aid, reappeared. He rushed over to kneel before his mother’s bedside, his eyes barely taking in my presence or acknowledging me.

  “My sweet Seamus. I want you to meet your brother, Gradaigh Mathuin. You must take Grady from me now for he grows too heavy for my arms to hold any longer. Please ask your sister, Emer, to care for him and raise him alongside her dear Braonan. She has enough milk for two,” the woman instructed, the strength behind her words rapidly fading.

  Seamus nodded silently, carefully lifting the tiny baby from his mother’s arms and cradling him tenderly in his own. I looked away as I saw a single tear trickle down his cheek.

  “I love you with my whole heart, Seamus. You’re so like your father – patient, strong, so kind. I only wish I had lived long enough to see you happy with a family of your own. I know she’ll be quite the woman, the one you eventually do choose,” she mused, sounding and appearing almost sleepy now. I could feel my control wavering. No matter how I wanted this woman to live, I could defy the wills of the Gods no longer. Tears of frustration filled my eyes.

  “Tis time for me to go now. Leave us, sweet Caoilinn. I will forever be in gratitude for the gifts you have given me – my babe, this time to say goodbye, this peaceful tranquility absent of pain.”

  I shook my head in denial, straining to speak while maintaining my flimsy concentration. “I can’t… I don’t want to give up,” I gasped. I was exhausted – both emotionally and physically, and unexpected tears began rolling down my cheeks. I told myself it was because I wasn’t used to failure, wasn’t used to appearing weak or flawed in front of others. My whole body began to tremble.

  “It’s alright,” Seamus quietly reassured me. He met my gaze with his own tear-filled eyes. His expression was open and honest, accepting and peaceful – not a shred of resentment for my failing to save his mother. “Please, wait outside. It’s time.”

  I slowly nodded. I rose from the small, rickety stool I had been perched on at the foot of his mother’s bed, smoothing my robes and attempting to regain my composure. Without looking back, I strode from the room, aware that with each step I took, his mother slipped away from the world of the living a little more. I heard her voice weakly whispering goodbyes into her son’s ear and I knew with an unquestionable certainty that she would be dead moments after I stepped out the door.

  “She’s gone,” I told the three young women who waited outside. They gasped and inched away from me, wrapping their arms around one another as they consoled each other’s grief. I watched them comfort one another as I stood a few feet away from them, exhausted, drained and alone.

  Several minutes later Seamus emerged from the hut with the new babe, Grady, sleeping peacefully in his arms. He walked around me and over to his sisters, murmuring words of reassurance to them all. He carefully passed the innocent babe over to his eldest sister and then kissed each of their cheeks and embraced them. The eldest disappeared, presumably taking the baby back to her home. The other two reentered the tent, tears streaking their cheeks as they avoided my gaze and hurried around me.

  Seamus stood facing me, studying me silently, his face without expression. I stared back boldly, reexamining his attractive features. His cheeks, though dirtied, were young and fresh – his youth apparent as he was nearly of an age with myself. His black hair curled down and around his ears, nearly brushing the tops of his shoulders. His eyes were large and a dark, mysterious gray that at times hinted at a hidden blue tint; they were the exact same color as his mother’s I realized. His eyes, though dry now, were filled with such unspeakable pain that I felt the uncontrollable urge to say something that might offer him some comfort, however small.

  “She was a very strong woman, another would not have lasted as long as she.”

  Seamus nodded his agreement, his lips pressing together tightly as if he were holding something back.

  “I told you that I might not be able to save her. I…” I hesitated, my voice unexpectedly wavering. A sob rose in my chest as I stared into his dark, beautiful eyes – eyes so filled with his loss and agony that I couldn’t help but share in his pain. “I tried to save her. Please believe me. I tried so hard… I…” Exhaustion swept over me and I collapsed to my knees. I quietly sobbed, my whole body trembling as I allowed myself to feel all the emotions that I had held back for so many years. In my exhaustion, I allowed myself to be the young, innocent girl of seventeen summers that I norm
ally worked so hard to pretend I was not and I broke down and cried.

  And then something truly shocking happened. My tears and sadness were enough that I did not hear or sense his approach until he was already kneeling right by my side. Before I could object or speak at all, Seamus took me into his arms. He held me tightly, the warmth and security of his embrace unfamiliar but so comforting that I was powerless to push him away. I tensed for a moment, so surprised by his closeness, by his boldness and audacity that my tears momentarily ceased. I hadn’t been touched by another or experienced this kind of physical closeness in so long… I didn’t know what to do.

  “It will be fine,” he murmured, his words laden with such genuine kindness and reassurance that I was completely disarmed. And so I let him hold me and comfort me and I cried until my tears ran dry. And somehow, on a day when others should be comforting him for his loss, Seamus found himself kneeling on the dirty ground, comforting the most powerful Priestess in all the lands who sniveled and trembled before him.

  My tears eventually stopped and I regained control of myself. I reluctantly pulled away from his embrace, only to find myself looking directly into his stunning eyes and for several long heartbeats of time, I was unable to look away.

  “I should return to the temple,” I quietly announced, dropping my gaze to the dusty ground. The sun hung low on the horizon, my absence would be noticed soon if I did not return.

  “I’ll send for a horse,” Seamus offered. He reached for my hand to help me up in a way that was so natural and easy, it really did seem that he didn’t have to think about it.

  “No, that’s not necessary. I’ll walk.”

  “But you’re exhausted.”

  I didn’t reply. It was true but I wasn’t about to admit that I didn’t know how to ride a horse. I turned my back and began walking away from Seamus, unsure of what else to say, unsure of why I felt like I needed to say something else.