by Linda Jordan
On her other side, sat Jerrin, who made her feel nervous. He stared at her and she found herself trying to ignore his pointed questions.
“So, did your horse really get attacked by trees?”
She nodded, paying close attention to the soup and hoping he would lose interest.
“Where was that?” he asked.
“Forest of Sorrows.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she watched his mouth drop open. “What possessed you to go there?”
“Insanity.”
Her concise answers only brought more questions. She wasn’t so sure about what Ronan said, that Krispin was the untrustworthy son. Jerrin seemed determined to pry information out of her.
The next morning after breakfast, she walked in the gardens with Ronan.
“I want to build another wagon,” she said.
“Where will you go once it is ready?”
“I do not know.”
“You looked uncomfortable last night,” he said.
“I was. Painfully. I am sorry it was so obvious.”
“Only to me, I think.”
“How long will you stay here?” she asked.
“Five more days. We wait for a courier.”
She groaned and sank down on one of the benches. Five more days here.
“Perhaps we can find something for you to do,” he said, looking at Jerrin who walked towards them.
“Good morning,” said Jerrin.
“We missed you at breakfast,” said Ronan.
“I rise earlier than most. I was out riding,” he said. “I needed to think.
“I assume you have a woodworker here at your manor,” said Ronan.
“Yes, of course,” said Jerrin. “Would you like to meet her?”
“ I am sure Arien does. I will come along and arrange to purchase materials from Lord Somerville.”
“Really?” she asked. “I cannot repay you.”
He glared at her. “You are my sister. I will not allow you to pay me.”
She nodded and they went to visit the woodworker. Ronan and Jerrin stood by and watched as she talked to Mariah about what she needed. They examined the available wood, cut into planks and dried, left over from building shelving. Mariah had never built a covered wagon before and was excited that Arien could teach her how. They arranged to meet again after lunch.
Arien returned to her rooms and changed back into her own clothes. Perhaps the Opal had pulled her away from the Shishaw people to meet her brother again. But why? To give her the choice of returning to the human world again? She still wanted to travel. To be free out on the land. This was no longer her world.
All afternoon Mariah and Arien measured and sawed boards to the right sizes. By dusk they had put together much of the box for the wagon. Jerrin helped them, seemingly fascinated by the process. Arien found she quite liked him.
The days passed quickly and the wagon came together. The smith pitched in, making axles and wheel rims. Arien knew it wouldn’t be completely finished by the time Ronan was ready to leave; the carving, painting and finishing would take a cycle at least. But the wagon would be covered and ready to move by then.
On the way back to the manor to dress for dinner, Jerrin asked her, “May I come with you?”
She was puzzled. “To get dressed?”
“No. To wherever you and Magnus are going.”
“Why would you want to do that?” she asked.
“Why would I not want to? I’m not the eldest. I have no place here. My brother will inherit. If not him, then my eldest sister, who you have not met, since she is traveling.”
“But why would you want to come with me?”
He laughed and said, “So many reasons. If you have paid any attention to my brother, you would have noticed that family is unimportant to him. As soon as he can, he will try to have me killed again. My eldest sister is out of his reach hopefully, but I am next in line behind her and even though I have no desire to inherit, in his mind I am still his rival. He will not give up.”
“He tried to kill you?” asked Arien. She had heard of such things as a child, but had never known any families where it actually happened.
Jerrin rolled his eyes. “My count is four times, that I know of. Poison, ambushed by thugs, he tried to drown me when I was six. About a month ago, he tried to shoot me with an arrow when I was hunting. I always bring friends when I hunt now. It is a bother. I prefer to hunt alone.”
“All right that counts as one reason,” she said, appalled at his brother’s behavior.
“Also, I like you. A great deal. I want to get to know you better and I cannot do that if I never see you again. I can bring my tent and all my own gear. I can hunt so there will be food. I am an animal-speaker. If you return to the Shishaw, I will at least be worth something when they barter with villages.”
“You do realize that my building this wagon is a choice. It means I have no intention of returning to the Black Opal City or anywhere ‘civilized’ for a long, long time, if ever,” she said.
“I did figure that out,” he said. “And you may have noticed that I am not exactly at home here. I would much rather be on the road. It is good my brother or sister will inherit before me. I hate politics.”
She thought about what he said. She trusted him; her magic could read him well enough to know he told the truth. “I will have to think on it.”
“Thank you for considering it,” he said, bowing.
They entered the manor and went their separate ways. On the way to her room, she ran into Ronan, coming down the stairs.
“Arien,” he said. “The courier has come. I will need to leave the day after tomorrow.”
She nodded.
“I am not going to Black Opal City, but am returning to the coast. So, I can ride in that direction with you for a while.”
She felt warmed by the possibility. “What do you know about Jerrin?” she asked.
He turned and walked her to her room, closing the door behind them. “Why do you ask?”
“He wants to come with me. Says he likes me and wants to get to know me better.”
“Is he telling the truth?” asked Ronan. He knew about her truth-telling skills.
“Yes.”
“I do not know him well, but have heard nothing but good about him. He pays his debts, hunts well, makes and keeps friends, and generally treats everyone well. Unlike his elder brother,” said Ronan. “I had noticed Jerrin spends his time wherever you are.”
“I noticed it too, but thought he simply wanted to learn how to make a wagon.”
Ronan laughed. “I will talk to him tonight or tomorrow and sound him out.”
“Is that appropriate?” she asked. She wasn’t used to having anyone try to take care of her.
“Entirely. I am your elder brother. Now, you better change before dinner is over.”
Arien felt relieved there were only two more formal dinners to sit through. She wasn’t used to being around people who talked so much. The Shishaw didn’t speak as much as humans did.
After dinner, back in her room and lying in bed, she searched her emotions. She quite liked Jerrin, but had always planned on spending her life without a man. Other than the villagers, she didn’t meet humans. And the Shishaw never stayed in one place long enough for her to form an attachment to another person. Jerrin’s desire to travel with her opened up possibilities in Arien’s life. Would she get a chance to love someone after all?
The next day, work on the wagon progressed at a hectic pace. The small iron stove Mariah had found was installed; the stovepipe got fitted and sealed in place. Doors and shutters were attached. The bed with drawers beneath it, and a sleeping mat were put in. Ronan had insisted on taking her to the village to buy clothing, bedding, dishes and food.
“I have decided that if you like Jerrin,” said Ronan, “you should take him along.”
“Why did you decide that?”
“He not only likes you, he clearly loves you. But he did not want to s
care you away. It is obvious that the two of you work well together. You can trust him. I would feel better if he were with you; which I realize does not matter to you. I simply think that if you find him attractive, you will not find a better choice. Plus he is willing to ride to the end of the world and around and around, just to be with you.”
“I do not know how I feel about him.”
“He will not push you. He is a patient man. It may take time for you to understand what you feel. And if you should decide you do not want him, let him know and he has assured me he will leave.”
She nodded.
“Do you know where you will go?”
“I am not sure yet,” she said.
“Not to Black Opal City?” he asked.
“Definitely not.”
“Will you try to find the Shishaw?”
“I need to find my magic again first. Understand what went wrong.”
He nodded in understanding. “If you ever need me....”
“I will try to contact you,” she hugged him.
When they returned to the estate, she found Jerrin in the stables, holding Magnus’ lead rope as the farrier trimmed his hooves. Magnus nickered at her.
“Thank you,” she said, rubbing Magnus’ neck. “I had not even thought of his feet. I have visited him everyday, but forgot to have him seen to.”
Jerrin said, “You have been rather busy. I was not sure when you would come across a farrier again.”
“I came to tell you that I would be happy to have you travel with me.”
He smiled, widely. “I am already packed and my horse is ready.”
“You knew?”
“I decided to hope for the best,” he said.
“Then we leave after breakfast tomorrow,” she said.
“I will finish here, so you can finish packing your wagon,” he said.
“Thank you, again.”
After an early breakfast, the three of them left the estate. Ronan rode his bay, Pinecone, and Jerrin was mounted on a small, fast gray mare covered with brown spots. Magnus trotted, his knees high, eager to be on the road. This wagon was lighter than her last one, she knew. She had learned a few tricks from Mariah to keep the weight down.
In the afternoon, they came to the cross roads, one road of which led to the Forest of Sorrows. Arien felt something flitter through her mind.
The tiniest whisper of a thought. ‘You have work to do here. You must finish what you started,’ said the Black Opal.
But what had she started? She’d woken the trees from a long sleep. They had been starving and wanted to murder her. What was it she needed to finish with the forest?
‘Try,” she whispered to Arien.
“I must go back into the forest,” Arien said, suddenly, to Ronan and Jerrin.
Ronan looked at her intently, then nodded his head.
Jerrin asked, “Are you mad? After they attacked you last time? Magnus won’t go in there again.”
“I know. I am walking in. Alone. Tonight.”
“Why?” he asked.
“I need to do this. I need to....”
Jerrin stared at her, “You need to what?”
Arien took a deep breath and said, “I need to try to heal the forest and regain my magic.” Letting her breath out slowly, she marveled at her own arrogance.
Ronan raised his eyebrows in surprise.
Jerrin said, “I’m going with you.”
“No. I need to do this alone. Besides, are you a plant-speaker?”
“No, but are you?”
“No, but I spoke to them once.”
“And we can see how well, that turned out.” Then he realized what he’d said. “I am sorry. That was a horrible thing to say. I am worried about you.”
“I know. But I must do this alone. Please, tell me you will stay and take care of the horses.”
Jerrin nodded.
Ronan insisted on coming with them to camp where he had met Arien before, instead of continuing on to the coast that day. As they approached the big log, Arien realized the area surrounding the forest was still covered with snow. After they settled in, Ronan began cooking a meal, while Jerrin tended the horses.
Arien wrapped herself in her cloak and began walking toward the forest. The trees stood silent in the coming darkness. The white snow illuminated their inky trunks. Once scarlet leaves, which carpeted the snow, had turned black. She could see Aine rising above the trees, the lilac colored moon causing the trees’ long shadows to cover the road.
Arien tried to sense the trees’ mood. They seemed to be dormant in the chilly twilight. She stopped in the middle of the shadows. Putting her arms out, she searched for the thread of the Black Opal.
The power pushed in through the top of her head. She felt it stream inside her body, filling her with energy. She imagined that strand of power flowing out her fingertips, touching all the trees around her and filling them as well.
As she watched the Opal’s force move through the trees, she realized that the trees were all connected by their roots. She focused her efforts downward beneath the frozen ground, feeling the energy pass through the root mat of one tree and on to the next.
The heat caused by the power traveling through the forest began to melt the snow and unfreeze the soil. Arien watched in amazement as tender green shoots began to emerge from the ground. ‘No,’ she wanted to whisper, ‘it is too cold for you. Sleep until the birthing time comes.’ But she didn’t. She simply let the Black Opal control everything, using her as a channel through which the energy could move.
The Forest of Sorrows came to life around her and she walked farther in, carrying the potency to the heart of the woodland. She stopped when she came to the dead trees who had absorbed the people. As the energy ran through the frozen trunks, the dead trees began to break down and disintegrate; the raw materials of the trees finally returned to the soil, nourishing the next generation of plants.
Now, the center of the forest stood open and bare, waiting to be filled with new life. Arien moved on, coming to the place where the trees had destroyed her wagon. She could feel them waiting expectantly, fluttering their branches. She spread the power among their roots and heard them sigh with relief. Green leaves sprouted from the tips of stems. From within their bodies she watched as tiny and large spots of light emerged and flew about.
Arien realized they were wood faeries who had been trapped by the trees, turns upon turns ago. Huge faeries with butterfly wings and goat faces, tiny faeries with dragon wings and doll-like features, each faery completely different than the next, began to whirl about her, grasping at the rejuvenating energy and moving it through the remaining forest. She simply had to stand in one place and let it flow through her. She laughed with delight at the life which was emerging around her.
When it was finished, one of the trees nearby bent a branch down to her. She saw that it held the fabric which contained her mother’s portrait, undamaged, other than the frame gone.
Arien bowed and took the painting, touching it gently, tears coming to her eyes. There was no other sign of her wagon, but this was enough.
She turned and walked back down the road, the faeries following her, weaving in and out of the newly leafed out trees. The forest felt warm and glowed with life. As she left the forest, the faeries swirled around her, caressed her face and sang with their melodic voices; then they swarmed back through the trees. Arien folded the painting and tucked it into her shirt.
By the time she returned to camp, Ronan and Jerrin had eaten and were sitting by the fire, transfixed by the luminescence of the woods.
She didn’t say anything, simply sat down and ate the roasted meat, whatever it was. Then she climbed into her wagon, pulled out the painting and spread it out on her little table. Crawling onto her mat and pulling the blanket over herself, she fell asleep for the first time in her new home.
It was midday before she awoke, disoriented. Once Arien finally realized where she was, she wondered if healing the forest had been
a dream. She cautiously opened her door and climbed out. The land around her and in the forest beyond was green, vivacious and sprung with new life. Even in the purple light of day the forest glowed with vibrancy.
She became aware of the clatter of wagons and horses on the road. Arien turned to see them coming up the road. As the caravan got closer, Ronan and Jerrin joined her. Jerrin wrapped an arm around her shoulders, while Ronan had a wry smile on his face.
Arien recognized the first wagon, elegantly painted in purple, crimson and gold with a carved bear on top. It belonged to Ereon and his family. The Shishaw had come, which both pleased and puzzled her.
They stopped behind her bare wagon since it blocked most of the road. Ereon, one of the elder plant-speakers got down off the wagon and came toward her.
“Sister. It is good to see you again,” he bowed.
She bowed in return as did Ronan and Jerrin. Arien said, “May the wind ever blow in the direction you wish to travel. How did you come to be here?”
“The Black Opal said we would find our hearts’ desires here. How could we not come?”
By that time, other clan members had gathered nearby and Arien did what she could to introduce them all to Ronan and Jerrin.
One by one, they noticed the Forest of Sorrows and touched their foreheads above their third eyes.
Sarai had been the last Shishaw who Arien had spoken with before she left in shame at her magic failing. Sarai turned to her and asked, “You are responsible for this great healing?”
“I just did what the Black Opal asked me to,” she said, her cheeks flushing with heat.
“Has your weather-working magic turned in the right direction?” she asked.
“I do not know.”
“Try,” she said.
Arien closed her eyes and felt for the stream of power her magic had flowed with. She asked for a warm breeze to spread the fertility of the trees’ flowers.
A breath of air whispered past them drifting towards the woods. Sarai nodded and said, “Yes, the Black Opal has healed you while you brought the forest back to life and harmony.”
