The Wittering Way

by Nat Burns

  “Thanks, brother,” I muttered, stuffing the items into my bag. I strode toward the door but turned to look back.

  My entire life had been centered around this one small, nondescript cottage. Mother’s powerful energy had brought seeking vines which covered it with greenery all year long, with flowers in spring and brilliant color when the weather cooled. The home was filled with the intriguing scents of magic and fire. Shy Fey and Lares lived in each wooden or plant crevice and tree Mothers surrounded it on all sides. I hated to leave but vowed to return. With Avapeony. The two of us would fill it with life and laughter again.

  Afton purred against my shoulder.

  “Yes, it’s time,” I told him. And myself.

  Book Five

  I TURNED AT the doorway and settled the plank door into the frame. I knew our animal friends would be able to get in through the window anyway, but it felt right and true to block the portal. I was looking down at the floorboards, saddened by my departure, so I didn’t see them at first. Nevertheless, I sensed them finally and turned, lifting my gaze.

  “We couldn’t let you go alone,” Yewsy said quietly.

  There were seven of them, all birthmates or close. Two of the Basil join, Lemon and Saffron were there, both small but heavily muscled from herb work. Saffron looked like her mother, Airgialla, and while both of them had Airgialla’s deep green eyes and golden hair, Lemon had the more square jaw of a male Meab. Both fammies were female, healthy and clear in appearance.

  I turned to Memo and Talew of Lore join. Memo was Avapeony’s closest friend, almost a sister, so I knew her well. Talew had been birthed later and I’d never had the opportunity to get close to him. Memo’s fammie, a young male named Higen, boldly approached and nudged me in welcome.

  Capel from Song join stood alone, the only representative of her join. Tiny and petite like others of her join, her long, unruly blond curls seemed to overpower her slight body. Yet she had sung for us at Beltane many times, and I knew the power of her large voice. Her fammie, Walsh, was a powerful seer and had often brought Capel to our cottage to share insights with my mother.

  Striding up from the rear was RoseIII himself, the son of Olive, Mother of Thorn join. His mother was a very powerful, very old wit. She alone had caused the final Human to stumble from our lands just before the Silver Veil was put into place. Her powers of bewitchment were strong.

  And Yewsy, my dear, dear Yewsy, made seven. All were prepared for travel, as well, each carrying a parcel of their possessions and a path bag of magic.

  “But, I...” I was made voiceless by their courage and support.

  “Avapeony was my birth mate,” Memo reminded me, the set of her small mouth determined.

  I was taken aback. And uncharitably worried. How much would so many of them slow me down? I also understood, somewhat bitterly, that I would be responsible for their safety.

  Safety. I shook my head at my outlandish thoughts. It was insane to think that some tribe of the Meab peoples would hurt another tribe. Afton brushed against me and I had a sudden awareness, surely from him. The Brinc clan had killed my join. They had taken my sister from me.

  I glanced at RoseIII and nodded a welcome. Olive was an influential wit, and I was surprised that his join would allow involvement in this endeavor.

  “Your Mothers permit—”

  “They know, but are not joyful,” RoseIII said, his gaze meeting mine. “They worry about harm befalling us, but such violence cannot be allowed. A meeting of Meab wit has been called.”

  “And the Mothers stay for that,” I said, nodding my understanding.

  “And the grown men and very young of the joins stay to feed and care for the Mothers and for one another,” he replied.

  I knew the ways of wit and knew the Mothers would never stop conversing until a resolution was reached. This new resolution, and maybe even others, would be broached to Brinc much as the earlier treaty had been. War would be avoided at all cost. The rescue of Avapeony had to be left to us, those in maiden and youth stages only, just finding our wit. I knew that usually such discovery of personal magic was very potent but quite often hard to predict and control. I shook my head in doubt. Then again, perhaps our smaller senses would pose less a threat than older wits descending upon the Brinc village.

  “Do you think she’s still...” Lemon drew my attention. He stepped forward and impaled me with his bright green eyes. His sister Saffron took his arm and pulled him close for security.

  Yes, I could protect these young friends. And they would protect me. Together we would be stronger than any one of us alone. This was right and true.

  I extended my hand and they moved forward, our eight hands clasping, our fammies flattening out and joining in a circle surrounding us. I felt the energy of the earth rise in us. Trees danced in our forest surroundings and leaves spiraled in a caper of joy. I felt the others’ trepidation but I found my own elation, which I tried to share. The future wasn’t revealed but I found new faith in the assurances of the forest Lares. That would have to be enough.

  I pulled my hand away, slowing nature’s exuberance, and I hoisted my bags onto my shoulder.

  “How shall we go?” RoseIII asked as he lifted his own bags.

  “Well,” I hesitated, not having thought this through all the way. “They are many legs ahead of us now, but I sense they are heading across the Greens, missing Medwas, I’m sure—”

  “Why are you sure?” Memo said. “I sense that they wish to conquer the Asti village, as well.”

  Many of us gasped. If the Brinc clan had the ken to attack the powerful Asti kingdom, then surely we marched to our doom. I set my mouth in a determined line. I cared not what the Brinc did elsewhere, at least not for the moment. My being was directed toward reuniting with my sister. That was all I could deal with at present.

  “We head north, crossing the River Adair and then through the forest,” I suggested.

  “There lie the falls, Cleome. We all know the danger of Felshea Falls,” Yewsy whispered.

  “Will we go south and cross lower on the Finlo or take the bridge across the falls?” RoseIII asked, nervously fingering his tunic.

  I sighed. “There are Gobbyes in Tumpe for sure, and all throughout Ifrsa. At least the bridge is well above the Neisi village, up into Luti land.”

  “The water sprites are in all water,” Lemon piped up. “My brother, Setine, said we can’t trust any of it, or them.”

  “Setine is not all-knowing,” I responded. “My grandmother, Glory, said that the Neisi seldom wander far from the pools of their home. They are creatures of much habit.”

  “Yes, lazy beasts, I heard,” Talew offered.

  “We do not speak ill of others,” I chanted automatically as I turned back for one last glimpse of my home. It looked oddly hopeful to me, as if saying it would see me soon. I deeply, sincerely hoped that this was a truth.

  Book Six

  WE MOVED AWAY from the houses of the Witta village and made our way along the lanes toward the river crossing. The Witta, young and old, but without the Mothers, had come out to bid us a safe journey and had lined the lane on either side, fammies spinning in colors of celebration and good will. Flowers and herb packets were pressed into our hands and strings of pocket magic placed around our necks. Though there were murmured well-wishes, there was still a solemn, fearful air around the Witta. Fear nibbled at me, but I pushed it away. We were Meab, all of us, Brinc and Witta alike. A tribe does not divide, a tribe does not kill others of the tribe. I told myself that I was not seeking revenge, not really. I just wanted to bring my sister back home. I scowled to myself as I stormed quickly along the lane, Afton trailing behind, making his own farewells.

  We found the small boats, left for any who wished to cross the river, tied to posts set into the rocky soil along the banks. RoseIII and Yewsy studied the water, looking for Neisi but it was early in the day, so they probably still slumbered after a night of frolic.

  With the help of several village
men, we piled into two of the small, circular boats but, inexperienced at handling them, we quickly became separated in the current. RoseIII stood carefully in his wobbly craft and magic grew in his hands as he pulled my boat close and, using a working, bound them as one. Thus sealed, we crossed away, downriver from our village.

  I looked back once, forlorn at seeing everything familiar falling into the past.

  We had to drag the boats against the current a short way to tie them to posts on the older forested side, but then we stood as one unit, fammies united, staring up at the towering trees. The Mother Trees on this side of the river were even older than the ones that cradled our Witta village. They swayed in welcome and seemed to open a path for us.

  The ever-buoyant Capel lifted her voice in song and the others joined in, repeating the phrases as we turned as one and marched along the well-worn trail leading into the forest.

  May we all fly like eagles

  All fly like eagles

  Flying so high

  Flying so high

  Circling the Universe

  Circling the Universe

  On wings of pure light

  On wings of pure light

  O E Ah Cha Chi O

  O E Ah Cha Chi O

  O E I O

  O E I O

  I circle around

  I circle around

  the boundaries of the Earth

  Wearing my long tail feathers as I fly

  Wearing my long tail feathers as I fly

  I circle around

  I circle around

  the boundaries of the Earth

  I circle around

  I circle around

  the boundaries of the Earth

  Trees drew closer and the air darkened around us as we traveled several legs farther into the wood. Soon a sudden chill swept across me and Afton quaked. I looked around anxiously. I could perceive no danger. Our voices fell silent only to be replaced by the noise of a heavy shuffling of leaves.

  “The Morries claim a heavy toll these days,” Capel said, moving her small form close to me.

  “What do you mean,” I whispered.

  “You’ve been busy,” RoseIII said quietly. “They are seeking recompense for Brinc damage. The Brinc are stealing trees and the forest has never been so abused.”

  They were eyeing me wonderingly, surely curious that I was not aware of what had been going on within my own lands. It was true that I often allowed book magic to win out over tree magic, and I suddenly felt the imbalance keenly.

  “I’ll take care of it,” Memo said, stepping forward just as the Morri stepped from behind a large oak tree.

  He was from the tree village of Brnclea, in the northern Hites, and his long robes bore the village colors of brown and two greens. He was stoop shouldered, as were all the Morri, and his long, white beard seemed to graze the ground as he moved forward. He observed us with luminous yellow eyes made brighter by the dull tangerine of his skin and the thick overhang of his bushy, white eyebrows. His fammie seemed to be a cheerful one, making up for the accusing cast in the Morri’s eyes.

  “I see you wish to enter our forest,” he said, in a soft, creaking voice. “May I ask which direction you seek?”

  Memo drew herself up as tall as possible before speaking. “We go to rescue our sister wit, Avapeony Widdershin, from the Ray join of Brinc clan.”

  A faraway look appeared in the Morri’s eyes. “Avapeony Widdershin? A nice wit. Very kind to all of us,” he muttered thoughtfully.

  His attention shifted to me.

  “Rescue?” The trees danced in response to his mirthful laughter. “Oh, a fine thing is that. You? Atrebuds rescuing atrebuds? Why are your joins not with you? All of you?” He eyed us angrily.

  I stepped in front of Memo.

  “Step aside, Morri. We only seek passage to the other side of the forest. We mean no harm to any of you.”

  “A fool’s mission you go on. You seek death at the hands of the Brinc. Why?” He stepped to one side and tree roots lifted from the ground, providing him a handy seat. He sat, crossed his legs and adjusted his robes. Leaves fluttered down upon his lap as his fammie settled onto his shoulder.

  I studied his dark, weathered countenance and wondered at his age. Wit means knowledge and I wished suddenly to know more of what he had experienced in his life. His lips and teeth, as well as the beard around his mouth was marked a deep brown with age and eons of smoke.

  “Why is it sure death, wood sprite? Suppose we are victorious and bring our sister home?”

  He shrugged slowly, his eyes blinking languidly. “Have you no knowledge of the Brinc clan then? Do you not know how the machines have made them stronger, fearless?”

  Talew stepped forward, his agitated, whirling fammie disrupting his short, dark hair. “But they have Avapeony. We need to bring her home before they hurt her.”

  The Morri rested his eyes on Talew as he drew a pipe from under his robes. I gasped as the distinctive scent of sopore filled the air around us and tree roots twisted up from the ground behind each of us. Tendrils of morning glory tapped my back then pulled me down to sit on the roots. The Morri manufactured fire on his left hand and lit the pipe. Fragrant, heady smoke swirled all around us.

  The Morri chuckled softy as smoke feathered from his mouth. “You might turn home instead,” he said gently. “They keep her, they will keep you.”

  “No,” I countered, even as I felt the effect of the sopore wash over me. I smiled without wanting to. “Signe Ray killed my parents. She is all the join I have left.”

  “Surely with the might of so many of us, we can escape with her,” RoseIII said dreamily.

  A silence fell and I could feel the inertia filling me. The Morri would trap us there for all eternity, or at least until he tired of us, smiling and smoking. My legs were heavy, my mind dull. I glanced to my left and then my right and saw the others in much the same state. Tiny Capel had fallen asleep, head tilted to one side, her long, blonde curls falling across her acorn-shaped face.

  “We can fight,” Lemon muttered. His fammie, Maol, spun slowly but I could sense her indignation at this turn of events.

  I reached out one hand and connected with Afton. The sopore wasn’t as effective on fammies as on Meab folk, so he was able to do my bidding. He spiraled his form down and into my bag, encircling and lifting a speckled blue rod of sodalite. He pushed it into my open hand, and I closed my fingers around it. I chanted slowly, the words half formed but still powerful.

  Clarity of thought

  Come to me now

  I am yours and you are mine

  Clear thought and vision intertwine

  Book Seven

  THE VINES JERKED and began to move away. I repeated the chant and fell backward as the tree root holding me moved down toward the ground. I repeated the chant again then bound it so that all the Meab tree seats went away and the vines retreated. All eight of us were sprawled onto the ground, the others stirring more slowly.

  The Morri studied me with slitted eyes, his brown teeth clenched around the stem of his pipe. “A powerful wit you are,” he said then giggled inanely.

  I rushed to rouse the others, even resorting to small face slaps to waken them from the sopore’s powerful effect. Memo brushed the hovering Higen aside and looked up at me. “What has happened?”

  “Morri magic,” I replied. “Will you get the others and move along the path?”

  She nodded and scrambled to her feet. I saw Yewsy trying to wake Capel. Even Walsh, Capel’s fammie, was having some trouble rousing her.

  I turned and studied the Morri. I rubbed the rough sodalite against my palm. “We’re moving on into the forest,” I told him.

  He grinned at me and removed the pipe with one large orange hand. “I won’t let you.”

  “Father!” The piping voice came from behind me. I felt the wash from the Jana’s wings as she fluttered close. She was a blur of blue skin and huge green eyes, so upset that she was flashing into and out of vi
sibility, only her tiny pink shoes remaining steady.

  “Now, Tsisi, don’t interfere,” he muttered, rising to his feet.

  “Why do you do this to the good people?” she asked him in her screechy little voice. “We’ve discussed this.”

  “But they go to sure death,” he responded loudly, annoyance clear in his tone. “They are going to Brinc lands.”

  The Jana, Tsisi, turned to me. “But...but why?” she asked, aghast. “Going to Brinc land now is like...like going to the scorching land of the Humans. We just don’t do that anymore.”

  In typical Jana way, she changed subject abruptly, and her small blue form lifted higher into the air. “Are you of MayApple’s join? I left her earlier. Her grief destroys me.”

  “Yes, some of us—”

  “There’s been a death, you know,” Tsisi continued, as she bobbed in front of my face. At least she was remaining solid now. “Widdershin join. They say it was Brinc soldiers.” She turned to the Morri. “Did you know there were Brinc soldiers, Father? Soldiers!”

  I swatted at the Jana but she shied away before my hand could contact her. “Those soldiers killed my join, you winged annoyance!”

  The Jana hid behind her father but not even my anger could quiet her.

  “Did you see that, Father? Why do the Witta annoy so easy?” She grew somber. “Your join? Really? I am so very sorry for your losses. Ahh, you’re going to avenge their deaths. I see. Father, you have to let them pass. I’d do anything to avenge your murder.”

  The Morri shifted his heavy form slightly, his fammie bouncing against his daughter and knocking her askew. She immediately began flashing into and out of visibility again.

  “Hornswiggle!” she cried out, holding her grape-sized head. “Father, can’t you control it a little better?”

  He laughed. “Control a fammie? You’ve got to be joking.”

  I stomped one foot heavily against the ground. “Enough, you two. Morri, step aside. We waste precious moments.”