Enchantress Sacrifice

by Denice Hughes Lewis

  His voice cuts off my connection. “I waste your meat, bearran. You led me far from home and I cannot carry all of you back.”

  He cuts off chunks and cooks them. The smell turns my stomach. I force myself to look away and carefully slip deeper into the roots of the tree, not wanting this Ice Lord to discover me. The sight of him causes my physical body to vibrate with unfamiliar heat that frightens me.

  I shut him out with thoughts of the coming day. He is going home. The Ice Mountains are west and he knows how to get there from the beach. I do not. I need to follow him without being seen. West is home for me, too.

  Eleven: The Following

  I awake to shouts and cringe from sore muscles stiffened by the damp soil. Hot pain sears through my leg. Nauseous from lack of food, I pull myself up by hanging onto a sturdy root.

  On the beach, the Ice Lord throws parts of the slain animal far out into the ocean. With each heave, he yells with the effort. He strides back and kicks sand on the dying fire. Grabbing his pack, he heaves it onto his back with a grunt.

  I am torn between safety and my desire to return home. The ache in my leg decides for me. I need the medicinal plant. Limping and weaving between the roots, my senses tell me it is safe to leave the tree. I squint in the sun’s brightness and inhale, grateful for the familiar tingles sliding into my hair.

  Pebbles crumble down the rocks to my left. The Ice Lord’s feelings center on his climbing. His muscles strain with effort.

  I move under the overhang of rock so as not to be seen from above. It is not long before the narrow path he has taken reveals itself, cutting up through the boulders. The Ice Lord’s strength and ability to climb such a steep path with a heavy pack take my breath away. It requires every ounce of energy to follow him in my condition.

  Pain hits like a thousand spikes when I start to climb. I clench my teeth, clinging to every rock. My leg wound seeps until blood flows. At least the wound is clean now. Rocks slick from ocean spray dig into my hands and feet. I climb without stopping, inch by inch, muscles screaming, breath coming in gasps.

  Foremost in my mind is the fear of losing the Ice Lord. A moss-covered boulder crashes overhead as I cling high above the ocean. It bounces on sharp rock, splinters and stones shower me. Silent tears slide down my face. Only the thought of home keeps me from crying out and letting go.

  I finally reach the top and peek over the edge. Shades of green fungus brighten drab rock. Scraggly trees shaped by sea winds scrape the bluff. A brave flower here and there sprouts through cracks in the ground. The Ice Mountains loom in the distance, cold and forbidding. I shudder.

  With a last look at the boundless sea, I search for Bryntar, never giving up hope.

  The Ice Lord strides far ahead.

  Crawling over the edge, I keep low to the ground.

  Time passes in pain and determination. The cliffs turn into hills that slope to a valley enclosed by more mountains. A shining river divides a land of magnificent trees. Some stand like giants with deep green needle-like leaves. Others spread leafy shade in wide circles. I limp down the hill. Something brown and white vanishes into a tree above me, chattering in anger.

  I spot one of Bryntar’s medicinal plants, tear off fleshy leaves and hide behind the massive trunk of a tree. The sticky, sharp-smelling juice of the plant stings my leg, the sores on my swollen feet and new stone punctures. I am grateful the plant will heal my physical wounds.

  The Ice Lord increases the distance between us in his desire to reach the mountains. Keeping his pace is impossible in my condition. The valley offers food, water and time for healing. If I keep the Ice Mountains on my right, they can lead me home. The young man hurries out of sight. I ignore the slight twinge of being alone. Again.

  I sidestep holes in the ground and hurry to the river. Hiding under thick bushes, I watch fat silver fish dart through flat rocks. Cool, fresh water quenches my thirst, but does nothing for my hunger. Without a knife, it is impossible to strip the bark off trees to reach the inner layer next to the wood. Waves of loss sweep through me as I remember Bryntar’s lessons on finding food in the wild. Content to eat anything, I gorge on plant roots, half-rotten fruit on the ground, fallen nuts smashed with a pointed rock.

  Too soon shadows slant over the valley. I need to find safety for the night. The rolling hills offer no cave system. The branches of the trees are too high to reach. My choices suddenly vanish.

  A prowl of jaguarats creeps over the hills and slinks into the valley. Six large white bodies stretch over the ground. Muscles ripple under thick, wavy fur.

  I cannot control the fear that lights up my hair.

  The creatures stop and stare at me. Their noses sniff, long tails flicking. They screech and bound toward me on silent paws.

  Terrified, I run and dive into the icy river. I stroke hard against the current to reach the far side, ignoring pain for the greater fear.

  The sun disappears like a snuffed candle. My body shakes so hard my teeth rattle. Not from the water, but from experiencing the desire of the prowl as they reach the river’s edge.

  Moonlight leans over the mountains. Golden eyes gleam as the jaguarats race along the bank. The largest one leaps into the water. The rest follow him. Crazy with fear, I count the splashes. Two, three, four, five, six. Two strokes to the edge. I scramble up the bank. Spot a tree with low branches. Wind sways the top. I race toward it, hoping to climb higher than the jaguarats can. Their splashes as they jump out of the water spur me on.

  I trip on a mound of grass. The ground sucks me into a hole. Screaming, sliding down a short tunnel, I hit the bottom with a thud. Dirt sifts over me. Stench fills my nose, a creature’s leavings. I frantically search for a larger tunnel and only find smaller holes.

  The jaguarats shriek above. One pauses in hesitation. Desire for fresh meat wins. It scratches at the hole and shoves in its head.

  The snarling mad thing horrifies me. My hair stands on end and fills with light.

  The creature stops and regards me with glaring eyes.

  “Leave me alone.”

  It screeches. Bloodlust shakes me all the way to my toes. My heart thumps erratically.

  I shrink back against the tunnel wall, not knowing how to protect myself without a weapon.

  The jaguarat yowls. A dozen claws rake through dirt, whip through air.

  “Get away!” I scream.

  The creature screeches. Digs deeper in frenzy.

  I think I will go mad when an ancient awareness surges from a deep place in my mind. You are an Enchantress with the knowledge of generations. You cannot be separated from the power of the light. Control your fear and feel it.

  An unfamiliar calmness enters my mind. Wave upon wave of shimmering light courses through my body, filling me up. For the first time, I experience a true connection and know how to save myself.

  I am sorry, jaguarat.

  I raise a finger and point it at the animal’s head. It shrieks once when the stream of light hits it between the eyes. Shocking pain is over in an instant for both of us. The force of the impact throws the creature backward out of the hole. Hisses and growls echo overhead as the others tear at their dead companion. Sorrow sweeps into my bones for killing a living thing.

  A horrendous roar thunders from above. Raging. Continuous. The ground shakes. Shrieks and screams of a terrific battle fill the hole. My hair fades. I cover my ears and try to stop the rips and tremors of death that torture me.

  Abrupt silence, until a high keening cry pierces the quiet. Bryntar! I claw up the hole, choking on dirt. “You are alive!”

  She stares, uncomprehending for a second. Then crushes me into her arms.

  I am home.

  Twelve: The Homing

  “Hear scream . . . afraid . . . too late.” Breathless, Bryntar shakes, her chest heaving from exertion. I lead her away from the dead jaguarats. She sinks to the ground, bleeding from many wounds in her skin. Tears slide down her face and mine.

  “You found me.”
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br />   She sweeps her eyes over my torn dress, bruises and dirty face. Pride shines in her eyes. “You survived.”

  I look toward the silent dead. “I did not want to kill.”

  “You killed to live. How?”

  “Something inside, like an essence from long ago, told me to remember who I am. How can that happen?”

  “You are Enchantress,” Bryntar says.

  I stare at her simplistic answer. “The light struck with such power.”

  “Good. You learn.”

  “How did you find me?”

  “Seas pulled south. Fought to shore. Found footprints and another’s.”

  “The Ice Lord’s.”

  Her eyes flare. “He saw you?”

  “No.” My stomach flutters and my face burns when his image flickers in my mind.

  She stares into my eyes. “Ice Lord not for you.”

  I never thought of having anyone in my life besides Taroc and Bryntar. Yet the faces of two young men flit through my mind, uninvited.

  Bryntar interrupts my thoughts. “We leave valley tomorrow. You sleep now.”

  “Please, the river first,” I say. The stench of blood and death smother every sense. “You need to clean your wounds.”

  My tattered dress reeks of things best forgotten. The cold water is welcome. I scrub hard, knowing it is impossible to feel clean.

  Bryntar stands in front of the current so it cannot sweep me away and washes off the blood.

  Will I ever feel the need to protect someone over all else? Will I know a man, have a child, understand the depths of love? No. I am thrust into saving a world without attachment.

  Bryntar carries me to a grassy knoll with views in all directions.

  “Tell me your story,” she says.

  I curl up beside her and relate some of what happened when we were torn apart. My eyes close with warmth and sleep claims me.

  . . .

  It seems like only moments later when I awake, inhaling light. Sunrise glows across the mountains in orange, red and yellow.

  On the ground next to me lay leather coverings for my feet and a white fur coat. I am touched that Bryntar stayed up all night to provide me with clothes. “Thank you, Bryntar.”

  I wipe tears from my eyes. The fur is soft and warm against my skin. I have been cold for so long that the odor and the dampness of fresh leather seems little to bear.

  Bryntar hands me a leaf from the medicinal plant. I smear the juice on wounds that are starting to heal and tend to those of Bryntar’s that she cannot reach on her back.

  “Eat and walk,” she says. She retrieves a piece of fruit from her bag full of fresh food

  and starts toward the tree-covered mountains to our west.

  Sweetness melts down my throat from a crunchy piece of fruit. “How long until we reach home?”

  “One day through mountains. That leg wound serious. How?”

  “A sea serpent.”

  She stops, shocked. “You killed sea serpent?”

  “No. I could not protect myself. Aru created a whirlpool that took it away.”

  “You saw beast?”

  “I only felt it. Why would it spare my life?”

  Bryntar shakes her head. “I have no answers. Even living for so long.”

  “How many seasons have you lived?”

  Her answer is to lengthen her stride and pull away.

  I run to keep up. “Are you ever going to tell me anything I need to know?”

  “Not my place,” she says. “You will learn sooner than you want.”

  Her mysterious comments lie next to the others in my mind.

  The Ice Mountains grow distant behind us, but they still seem to watch, to judge, to lure me.

  The sun blazes overhead when Bryntar stops near a ridge of peaks. Her eyes search rocks and shrubs that cover the ground. “There.” She rushes to a huge boulder and heaves it aside to reveal a deep hole in the mountain. “You first. I close.”

  I face the black cavity and shiver. “Tell me there is another way.”

  “There is not. Watch head.”

  We crawl inside. The boulder thumps in place, sealing us inside. Silence swallows the small space. The ridges on Bryntar’s back scrape the ceiling and the noise comforts me in the total darkness. Her breath warms the air.

  My fingers become my eyes. I touch sharp spurs of rock, slide around twisting edges and creep over the pebble-strewn floor. I give thanks for the protective coverings on my feet.

  Bryntar’s groans force me to concentrate on something else. The Ice Lord. No. The wounded young man. No. I count. One, two, three.

  Seventy-nine, eighty. Dull light gleams ahead. Relieved, I push dry plants aside and

  creep into muted light.

  Bryntar crawls out and collapses, heaving with fatigue.

  I kneel at her side. “Are you all right?”

  She sits up. “Tunnel seemed larger last time.”

  “When was that?”

  “Nine-hundred seasons.”

  I sigh, and wonder how she could be that old. I will not get an answer if I ask. Maybe longevity belongs to creatures like her.

  She turns around and stands in silence. Brief nostalgia tinges with love. It fills her heart and mine. “I showed this place to Taroc.”

  Intruding on feelings embarrasses me more and more. Will I ever have the time to practice control? I turn to face a solid wall so high that only a tiny patch of blue sky shows far above. The gray rock glitters with veins of gold.

  I touch the gold and, to my surprise, warmth. “Why did you bring us here?”

  Bryntar strokes the mountain of rock in reverence. “Quick way home.”

  “This is a sheer cliff.”

  “Learn to see beyond obvious.” She takes food from her bag. “Eat. Need strength.”

  “I need hooves.”

  She roars with laughter, steam furling from her nostrils. A few minutes later, she heaves her body off the ground and grabs the bag. “Come.”

  Bryntar skirts the cliff and disappears.

  I hurry after her and discover a corridor between towering mountains big enough for me to squeeze through. “Where are you?”

  She stands on a promontory high above me. “Meet farther on. Keep going.” Her claws scratch rock, massive legs jumping to a higher precipice. She vanishes into clouds.

  No light filters into the corridor. The cliff is smooth on either side, as if someone sliced the rock with a giant knife. I touch cool walls and move forward, wondering why every path we take leads through darkness.

  At the end of the passageway, the mountain splits open. I gasp in pleasure. Several waterfalls splash into a river drifting through a narrow valley. Lush plants reflect the brilliant colors of the setting sun. The scent of flowers floats on the air. I breathe deeply

  and absorb the quiet peace.

  Bryntar leaps down from a ledge and I yelp.

  She hisses. “Be alert all times.”

  “It is so beautiful. We should live here instead of the caverns.”

  “Aru find you.” She says the words with such finality that questioning her is futile. She looks me over. “Cross valley before sun sets. Strong enough?”

  I long to be home and quickly answer. “Yes.” Surprised, I realize I am stronger. Sore muscles and bruises have faded. The wound on my leg is smaller and scabbed over.

  Bryntar smiles. “Enchantress heals fast.” She thumps off.

  The valley is smaller than it seemed at first. We follow the river. More peaks grow in front of us like giant guardians. They echo a loud gushing sound. Bryntar’s stride quickens. When she stops, I rush to her side and gasp. A huge hole sucks up the river.

  I sense Bryntar’s fear. “What is it?”

  She points at the hole. “Way out.”

  “Another cold bath?”

  Bryntar snorts.

  “It does not look safe,” I say. “When did you last go this way?”

  “When showed Taroc.”

  “A tu
nnel can change in nine-hundred seasons. Surely we can find a path instead.”

  “No time. Tunnel drops through mountain. Empties into river. Before we found boy.”

  I shiver, remembering the waterfall that spews out of the cliff. “Why are we in such a hurry?”

  A deep sadness shifts through Bryntar. “Tomorrow is day of birth. Everything changes.” She turns me to face her and points to the water. “Go.”

  I am confused with what she is hiding and her feelings of dread. “No. You first.”

  Bryntar touches my cheek with a claw, so tenderly my heart swells with love. She secures the bag around her neck and jumps in with a screech. The hole sucks her away like a starving animal.

  I inhale light and leap after her. Dragged straight down, the overpowering force shocks me more than the cold. My eyes open to slits against the surging water. It is dark again,

  except where light seeps through cracks in the mountain and glows green. I hit a deep curve and draw in my arms. Uncontrolled, the force slams me into walls smooth from ages of wear.

  The flood suddenly slows to a stop, backing up into a pool. Submerged completely, I strain in the murky water and see the struggling white form of Bryntar, her arms pinned and useless at her sides. Her strong neck fights to jerk her horn free from the crack in the rock overhead.

  Her terror sweeps into me. Close her feelings out. Concentrate. Her struggles use up her breath. I point my finger to a spot above Bryntar’s head and carefully summon the light within. I could kill us with too much force. Heat and light drizzle through the water without reaching the rock. There is no time now. I glow with light and throw a beam above her head.

  BOOM. Rocks explode, pieces shooting through the swirling water and piercing our bodies. The pressure sweeps us away with mud and rock.