The moist, earthy fragrances carried on the early spring breezes had already begun to make her homesick for her garden. She was saddened by the thought of her old friends returning from their winter’s sleep, expecting to find an attentive hand waiting for them, and finding no one. She was sure that her mother would rather let the garden grow wild than kneel down among the plants and soil her hands and clothing. Elowyn knew that the delicate, timid plants would quickly be swallowed up by weeds, and the unruly ones would spread to crowd their neighbors out.
Elowyn asked Morganne if she thought Jadon might allow her to help with the monks’ garden as they began to nurse it back to life. The tavern garden was disappointingly small and contained mostly vegetables and cooking herbs. These did not interest her nearly so much as the wide variety of herbs kept by the monks for use in dyes and medicines. Elowyn was told that Jadon and the other monks would be more than happy to accept her help whenever she had time to give it.
Though Elowyn missed Cailean’s company terribly, she kept her days bursting with activity between her chores at the tavern, practice at the granary, and helping to prepare the monks’ garden for spring. All the while she kept an eye on the lower slopes of the mountains with great anticipation.
Minhaven soon had its first visitor from the south; Jadon’s brother, Liam. He was also a monk, and he served the farming villages that Morganne and Elowyn had passed through on their way to Greywalle. This was apparently an annual pilgrimage he made each spring to check on his younger brother. Knowing how harsh Minhaven winters could be, their mother worried unceasingly until the spring thaw opened up the northern passageway.
The first spring visitor was always welcomed and celebrated by the villagers as a physical confirmation that travel was once again possible. As much as they mistrusted the southern cities in terms of politics, they still depended on their bounty to replenish depleting food stores and supplies. News from the outside world was nearly as precious, and wherever Liam went he was questioned about the happenings throughout the Sovereign’s lands.
However, Liam was wary of speaking too freely except in the presence of Jadon, the brethren of his order, and Minhaven’s leaders, as the news was grim. The farming villages south of Tyroc had lost their entire grain crop, and other crops had fared poorly as well. Such a thing had not happened since before the days of the first Sovereign, and the effects of this catastrophic event were already being felt throughout the entire realm. The height of the growing and harvesting seasons had simply been too cool, and too wet. What little grain had been salvaged was badly tainted with ergot, a black fungus that was dangerous to eat.
Only Morganne, Elowyn, and Glak knew from where the rain and storms of misfortune had come, yet they could say nothing openly. Thankfully all of the other farming regions, still beyond Braeden’s reach, had harvested healthy crops. Under such dire circumstances, their ruling lords had already been obliged by their oaths to the Sovereign to send a portion of their harvests to Tyroc. While this plan had fended off mass starvation in the city and its outlying regions throughout the winter, no doubt it had cut into the supply of grain that Minhaven would now normally purchase from in order to sustain its own citizens. Reserves would have to be carefully managed, home gardens expanded, and belts tightened—at least until everyone felt some assurance that Minhaven’s coming months would not mirror Tyroc’s recent ones.
Tyroc had endured a brutal winter, with the unusual amounts of rainfall changing into an equally unusual amount of snow. Even with food coming in from other parts of the realm, there was not quite enough to comfortably sustain everyone, and prices rose beyond what the poorest could afford. Some of the grain coming in from other regions was given out on Braeden’s authority to those with no other means, and no doubt he made a grand show of his generosity. But in the end, there were too many in need. The starving dared to consume spoiled food and tainted grain, succumbing to illness...sometimes to death. Increased patrols guarded Tyroc’s streets by day and night, as the desperate preyed upon the vulnerable, and those who had consumed tainted grain were given to hallucinations that at times produced violence.
Morganne felt a stab of guilt at having left her mother to face such trials alone. She had known that dark times were imminent, yet she had left behind no word of warning to her mother. However unlikely it was that her mother would have taken any warning seriously, Morganne’s conscience might now rest with greater ease had she at least tried.
But Elowyn’s heart was not nearly as gracious. And though she sensed it was wrong, she secretly felt that her mother deserved whatever hardship had been dealt to her. Elowyn was grateful for her freedom and would not stain her prayers of thanks with feelings of guilt over the blessings she had received. Neither did she want to think of how easily she might have become just another one of the nameless starving, forced to rely on Braeden’s twisted mercy for an inadequate portion of grain. She hoped that she might have had the courage to refuse his poisoned offering.
But all such misery was forgotten the morning Cailean returned to the village looking for her. He and his father had repaired their cottage and would soon return to work. But first, Cailean’s father had granted him a day free of labors so that he might finally show Elowyn their world; the forests and foothills of the mountains that she so longed to see. Much to Elowyn’s astonishment, Cailean went through the formality of asking for Morganne’s permission to take her beyond the confines of the village, vowing to treat her honorably and return her safely before nightfall.
Elowyn had always come and gone as she pleased without answering to anyone, not even her own mother. And though she had always given Morganne the respect she was due, Elowyn would never have thought to seek Morganne’s permission before accepting Cailean’s invitation. Morganne was caught equally by surprise, but gave her consent. Unbeknownst to Elowyn, Morganne had already discreetly sought reports of Cailean’s character from many of the villagers, including members of the Kinship, until she had been thoroughly satisfied that he was a respectable young man. She was wise enough to know that she could not suddenly force maternal authority upon Elowyn, and yet she had a duty to protect her that would need to be exercised cautiously.
Cailean thanked Morganne and advised Elowyn to bring her bow and wear her dagger, not because he anticipated she would need them, but because it was the wise thing to do anytime she left the protection of Minhaven.
Elowyn felt her heart pulsing with excitement as they made their way through the streets toward the northeastern edge of the village, where the homes and shops abruptly gave way first to rough meadows, then to a forest of lofty pines overshadowed only by the mountains. Cailean took her along a well-worn foot path that he himself had probably traversed a thousand times. Elowyn was amazed at how quickly the sights and sounds of the village were swallowed up by the wilderness; another reminder of how small Minhaven truly was.
As the forest around her deepened, the song of Elowyn’s soul resonated within her, and her muscles ached to run, and climb, and dance for joy amidst all the green and growing things rushing forth to greet the spring. She closed her eyes and took deep breaths, trying to steady her mind and trembling body. She reminded herself that she was not alone, and she was not yet certain that Cailean would accept the wilderness within her. He did not know her as the girl who had spent much of her life sleeping in trees and sailing blissfully on their outstretched branches. Since she had come to Minhaven, she had been forced to live a different life. And though she would certainly not choose to go back to her old one, the adjustment had been difficult for her just the same.
Cailean chatted happily as they walked, and Elowyn tried her best to pay attention, but in all honesty she barely heard him. Her ears were full of the sounds of birds and small animals in the brush, the tall pines creaking in the wind, and the rush of nearby mountain streams, newly freed from their icy bonds. Her muscles began to remember themselves, and the subtle movements she had worked so hard over the years to perfect were c
oming back to her. She would now have to get used to making them with a quiver strapped to her back and a bow slung over her shoulder. Inwardly she smiled as she played a silent game, trying to see how quietly she could walk leaving no trace of her own steps, while Cailean crashed through piles of fallen leaves, kicked stones, and snapped dry branches underfoot without a care.
As the path went on it became less like the easy woodland trails she had always known, and more like the difficult road they had taken from Evensong into Minhaven. In places she had to climb steep hills, or skirt immense boulders. She was surprised at how hot and flushed her face had become, and how her muscles burned in protest against her commands. She had been far too idle through the winter months, her strength and endurance diminished, but not entirely gone. Her lungs drew in the crisp mountain air greedily, and her blood flowed with renewed vigor.
Elowyn felt alive again, whole again, as she had not felt since before the emergence of the Hounds. She was almost sorry when Cailean’s cottage came into view and the walk abruptly ended. It was a small stone structure with a noticeably new roof. Cailean’s father was outside, breaking up hot coals in a large, shallow pit, adding more wood as he went. Near the pit was a stone bloomery sealed with clay. There were so many miners and smiths in Minhaven that she had become accustomed to seeing these small chimney-like structures everywhere. They were used to smelt down the ore that the miners toiled to extract from the mountainsides. The smelting process transformed the raw ore into a more pure substance which could then be forged. Leftover slag was discarded, or sometimes thrown back into the bloomery along with the coals that fueled it.
As Cailean’s father saw them approach, a great smile broke across his face. He rushed over to greet them, wiping off his sooty hands on a rag hanging from his belt. Elowyn noticed for the first time that he walked with a slight limp, which became more pronounced the faster he moved. He embraced them both, one in each arm, and ushered them into the cottage where he had a kettle of hot porridge waiting for them. Where Glak’s cottage had seemed rather stark, this one was snug and cozy. The stone walls and floor were covered with bear skins to help keep out the cold, and the simple wooden furniture invited her to sit down and settle in before the fire. She noticed that Cailean and his father had wooden beds like those the monks used and wondered if these were common in Minhaven as a way of staying off the cold ground.
The three of them ate together at a small, sturdy table, chatting comfortably as though they had always known each other. Elowyn was amazed at how readily she was accepted by Cailean’s father, and how naturally they pulled her in to share the warmth of their closeness. She could not help but envy their relationship a little, for they had something she had never experienced, nor ever would. She always imagined that her own father would have been kind and gentle like Cailean’s.
When the meal ended, Cailean’s father returned to his work and Cailean led Elowyn back outside, this time behind the cottage. To the right was a widened path that disappeared through the trees. It was marred by wheel ruts and covered in some places with logs or planks of wood. Elowyn supposed it was a working road, made for carting ore between the mountain and the bloomery. It ran parallel to the base of the mountain, sloping gently upward.
But Cailean did not lead her in that direction. Straight before them was a different path; narrow and foot-worn, winding its way through the trees, straight up the foothills of the mountain. Conversation came in short, gasping bursts as they followed one another single file up the steep path, sometimes forced to climb small ridges or broken rocks that had fallen down the mountainside. Here Cailean’s wood skills clearly surpassed her own, as he scaled the path like a young mountain goat. Elowyn had never experienced such difficult terrain before, and was encumbered by her long clothing, her bow, and boots that were more suited to village life.
Though Elowyn spent much of her time looking down in order to keep her footing, each time she paused to look up, she caught breathtaking glimpses of Aviad’s glory. Giant, ancient evergreens towered above her, sunbeams breaking through their boughs like fingers reaching down from another realm. The smells were equally captivating; invigorating pine mingled with rich spring soil and damp stone. The wind brought her intermittent wafts of a delicate floral scent that was unfamiliar to her, but lured her onward with great anticipation. Not that she needed urging. She was sore, breathless, and damp with sweat, but none of it mattered. She had so longed for this day, that no amount of physical discomfort could now diminish her spirits.
Finally, the trees gave way to open meadowlands filled with hundreds upon hundreds of small yellow flowers. They were the source of the mysterious floral aroma that had enticed her forward along the path. Cailean stopped to scoop up a great handful of them which he presented to Elowyn with a gentle bow. She pressed them against her face and inhaled deeply, trying to mask her blushing cheeks and beaming smile. She longed to sit and rest for a few moments, surrounded by the gently waving beauty of the meadow, but Cailean turned and continued on, his steps full of purpose. She tucked the flowers into her belt and followed. Higher and higher they climbed, twisting along ledges and around boulders until finally they reached a wide, green hillside with the mountain shooting up steeply from one end, and dropping off precariously on the other.
As Elowyn lifted her head to look forward, she gasped in wonder. They were now perched high enough that the whole valley was spread out before them with its green, rolling hills, waterfalls, streams, forests, and of course, the ocean. The world she knew...or thought she knew...looked so different from that height. Minhaven seemed nothing more than an insignificant cluster of soot-stained buildings hugging a rocky, perilous coastline. Apart from that one tiny island of civilization, there was nothing but deep and unforgiving wilderness as far as Elowyn’s eyes could see. But it was beautiful, oh so stunningly beautiful, beyond anything she had ever known or imagined. And Aviad had led her into the midst of it, for what purpose she could only guess.
Elowyn found that her knees were shaking and her legs had lost their strength. She knelt down in the short, rough grass on that mountain hillside and stared with amazement onto the splendored vista before her. Her eyes filled with tears, and her heart sang out in awe of Aviad, whose eye had envisioned such a place, and whose hand had been mighty enough to create it. Elowyn had not felt Aviad’s presence so strongly since she had sought His guidance in prayer upon the clifftop of Evensong. She longed for such closeness, which filled her soul so completely that nothing else in the world seemed real or important. She wanted to pray in words like she had before, and receive Aviad’s guidance in return. But words, even silent ones, would have spoiled everything. In that moment, her only task was to be still, to rest, and to joyfully acknowledge Aviad as the true Creator and Lord over all.
“This is my own special place,” Cailean said in a low, quiet voice. “I come here when I want to be alone. Not even my father has been here.”
Cailean’s voice brought her thoughts back into focus. She was still on her knees, which were now getting stiff and sore. The grasses looked inviting, but beneath them the soil was thin and full of sharp stones.
“From the first day I met you I’ve wanted to bring you,” Cailean said. “There is no way to describe this place in words, but somehow I knew you would love it as much as I do, if only you could see it.”
Elowyn nodded emphatically, unsure that she could control her voice just yet. Perhaps he knew her better than she realized, and had already accepted the part of her she thought she had guarded so closely. Einar had not understood tree sailing, but Cailean, completely enrapt by the beauty and stillness of this remote mountainside, just might. She felt honored that he had bared a part of his soul to her by bringing her here, for she understood what this place must mean to him. After all, she had once loved a special place too, before the Hounds had taken it away from her. She prayed that Aviad would keep the beasts at bay so that Cailean might not know the same loss she had suffered.
&nbs
p; “The monks say that Aviad’s tear was broken against these very mountains, that this is one of the sacred places Aviad’s hand touched when the world was made,” Cailean continued. “When I’m up here, I know they are right.”
After that, neither of them spoke for a long while—there was no need to. What words could compare to the song of the landscape around them, begun by Aviad at the dawn of the first age, ordained to continue on until the last age ends with the world’s final breath. Only the circling birds and the wind broke the stillness around them as it tickled the grasses and tugged playfully at their hair and clothing. Elowyn was sorry when Cailean finally released a regretful sigh and stood up.
“It is time to go back now. I promised your sister that I would get you home safely before dark, and I intend to keep that promise.” He reached down to help Elowyn to her feet. His hands were strong and calloused from hard work, but his grasp was surprisingly tender. She noticed that he held onto her hand for a few lingering moments, even after she no longer needed his help to steady herself. Her heart skipped and her cheeks glowed as she wondered what the gesture meant. His soft brown eyes gazed at her with obvious affection, but he said nothing. He released her hand and turned away toward the homeward path.
Though the return journey was mostly downhill, it was surprisingly difficult and Elowyn had to concentrate on every step in order to avoid sliding on loose stones or getting tangled in her dress and falling.
Cailean gave her a strong warning to never take the path alone. “You don’t know the mountain’s ways yet. If bad weather or fog were to suddenly descend, you could easily get lost or fall over a precipice. The mountains have claimed a lot of good men.”
“Wyman once told me that the mountains buried his brother, but he never said what happened. Whenever he speaks his brother’s name there is such pain behind his eyes that I dare not ask,” Elowyn said. “Sometimes it feels strange to know we are staying in the room that belonged to him.”
Ancient Voices: Into the Depths Page 16
