So Wiglaff meditated on the flames of a fire, and in his mind he felt his spirit enter the flickering flame as part of the white, the blue and the orange and of the ghostly procession of flames across wood and cloth, fat and dry vegetation, minerals that he had collected that favored fire and were changed by the heat of it. With fire Wiglaff associated pain, and he used fire to sensitize himself, applying it to his arm or leg. This made him feel alive. Applying fire gave him a sense of his limits of tolerance. Warriors’ wounds were annealed with a white hot blade. Wiglaff reasoned that his mind could be annealed by raw flames. Ugard showed Wiglaff how to concoct powders that made flames turn color or intensify. He showed Wiglaff the effects of fire on metals and the effects of ashes of various substances that, once burned, contained power for many things.
Only when Wiglaff had mastered the basic knowledge of all things magical did Ugard began pressing him to learn the patterns of shamanic rituals proven to bring the rain to newly planted fields or to keep the clouds away during harvest season. Ugard believed that the most useful shamanic skills were those that helped villagers through their daily lives.
He taught Wiglaff, “Because the village depends on its crops, the shaman has to be the guarantor of every stage of growth, harvest and storage of vegetables, fruits, grains and nuts. Contrariwise, the shaman has to be a master at identifying what would sicken and kill villagers, not only so that the villagers would avoid them, but also so that the poisons in them can be used as weapons against an enemy.”
Wiglaff practiced being sensitive to all things, using all his senses simultaneously. His olfactory senses were well developed before he entered his shamanistic training, but Ugard taught Wiglaff how to detect things about which he had been unaware, like the smells of various kinds of fire, the reasons for sounds that had no other sensory reference, the tricks that could be played on the eye or the sense of touch, and the tastes of deadly poisons. Ugard told Wiglaff about the hallucinatory drugs that some shamans used to heighten their senses, but he preached that such accentuation was ultimately a fraud. He taught, “The shaman can train himself to be attuned to natural things using only his native faculties, developed by practice and empowered by using the mind to catalog and differentiate.”
Wiglaff, naturally a loner, was gratified to be taught by someone who was a loner also and who understood his need for solitude. The two men would separately perform their studies in the cavern, and they learned to do so as if each was entirely alone. Still, whenever Wiglaff had questions, Ugard was eager to help him arrive at answers, but he never simply gave the answers. Instead, he encouraged Wiglaff to discover his answers for himself. This method of instruction at first frustrated the young pupil, but gradually he began to understand his mentor’s reasoning. Self sufficiency was the key to his maturation. Wiglaff understood this within himself. He had already applied the same strategy on his family. Why else had he insisted on retreating to the cavern in the mountain?
“I know no greater disservice to a student than having him learn by rote,” Ugard would say.
So when Wiglaff asked, “Why?” Ugard answered, “Why do you think?” and he would then listen carefully while Wiglaff reasoned and reflected.
If Wiglaff had trouble eliciting his own answer, Ugard would ask his pupil to take time to meditate and to dream. Wiglaff discovered that many answers to difficult questions were answered in his sleep. So he would carefully articulate a question before retiring, and often he’d awaken to find that the answer to his question had come to him in his dreams.
Especially helpful to Wiglaff was his master’s interest in numbers. By calculating in his mind, Wiglaff’s reasoning powers increased, so each day he would do numerical problems to enliven his mental powers. Strange to him, these exercises also helped his memory, both in storage and retrieval of information.
Ugard told him, “The application of numbers to reality is a form of magic better than all the rest.”
But Wiglaff had trouble comprehending that concept. It was too abstract for him to grasp immediately. He became frustrated as he tried to force understanding.
Ugard advised his pupil, “Apprehend first, and then let the mind work on comprehending.”
Wiglaff made this part of his daily routine. He used his memory as a gateway for information. His mind naturally digested what he learned. Instead of demanding his brain to perform, he learned to allow it time to form opinions. Comprehension came without his linking every phase of its mysterious evolution. He began to sense the numbers operating subtly behind the things he heard, touched, saw and smelled.
He once asked Ugard, “How many other shamans used numerical computation in their practice?’
Ugard smiled knowingly and said, “No others.”
So repeatedly Wiglaff discovered that as a shaman, Ugard did things that were unique and wholly developed by him. He was impressed by his mentor’s independent thinking. Others might have been put off that his mentor was so different from other shamans. Wiglaff was like his master in many ways. He sought ways to train himself to be independent. That way, he developed patterns of thought that surpassed his teacher’s and made him feel spiritually strong. Still, he asked Ugard about his background and development to gauge whether he was doing everything he could to master his trade.
“Master,” Wiglaff asked, “is there any form of magic that you didn’t discover wholly on your own?”
Ugard frowned and spoke in a stern, warning expression. “Yes, Wiglaff, for I’ve studied both the natural magic that you’re now immersed in and the black magic that involves the dark spirits of the evil in the world. I don’t teach black magic because as much harm is done to the practitioner as he intends to inflict on others. The door of evil, once opened, allows evil to enter your soul, and it becomes trapped there and festers.”
“Yet you have no evil in you that I can detect.” Wiglaff was both intrigued and confused. He observed his mentor closely for any exterior sign of evil he had missed. Suddenly he felt as if he no longer knew his mentor. He felt uncomfortable being intentionally deprived of a whole dimension of his instruction. Ugard seemed to read his mind and smiled.
“When it’s time for you to learn how to detect evil, you’ll see for yourself that your view of me is skewed by your propensity towards white magic. You haven’t exhibited the malice that would normally provide a platform for evil to reside within you. That’s one reason I chose to be your teacher. The other reason is your mother Onna, but that is a story for another day. Have you completed your daily reflections?”
“Yes, I have. I’m exhausted.”
“Good. Now rest, for tomorrow we’ll begin to learn the forms of rituals for growing corn. These must be mastered in every detail and executed perfectly, because any imperfection in the ritual could cost you your life.”
So Ugard taught Wiglaff, and Wiglaff marveled at his master’s patience even when he thought he had performed poorly. Ugard never raised his voice and never punished his student, except by his silence or his look of disapproval.
How unlike my natural father this mentor is, he thought.
Wiglaff was conflicted by thoughts about his father, feeling both love and anger in equal measure. He did not look down on his father; rather, he respected him to the point of adulation. Yet he resented his father’s physical intimidation. He felt belittled by his father’s disdain. Mordru had been a violent person whose presence seemed a violation of every tenet of privacy in his surroundings. For Mordru, everyone had to know that he was the dominant person, whether in a room or in a forest clearing. He demanded obedience, and he was quick to resort to the most violent means, including shouting and striking, to make his points.
Mordru had no gift for languages or listening. He was the quintessential warrior, and he died as he lived—in the struggle for his supremacy. Wiglaff reflected on the irony that his sister Winna was most like her father. On the other hand, Wiglaff was like his mother, but he was like Ugard also. He was intrigued that Ugard had numbered Onna as one of t
he reasons he agreed to take Wiglaff as his protégé and possible successor.
Wiglaff was surprised the next morning to discover that Winna had come to talk with him alone. He took her outside the cavern, and the two talked as they climbed the mountain to the very summit.
There Winna told Wiglaff in a demanding and desperate tone he had not heard from her before, “I’m in danger. I haven’t told our mother about it because she could do nothing, and she would only worry. Will you help me? I’ve nowhere else to turn.”
Showing unaccustomed concern to his sister, Wiglaff asked, “Winna, what’s wrong? Why are you afraid?”
Winna told him, “A friend of mine overheard three of the new elders plotting to capture me and take me deep into the forest. They’re going to hold me down and dishonor me by force. They feel I should know that I’m like all the other women and shouldn’t put on airs as if I’m a warrior. They said that only men should be warriors, after all.” She felt ashamed and her eyes brimmed with tears, imploring his help.
Wiglaff felt incensed, but he calmly asked her, “Do you know the names of the elders who have plotted against you?”
She gave him the three names of the men who everyone thought to be respectable villagers with wives and children.
Wiglaff then asked, “Winna, do you trust that your friend has told you the truth about what these men are planning to do?”
Winna burst into tears and told Wiglaff, “The three men intend to take me away this very evening. They asked Onna for permission to meet me after dinner to discuss security for the village. Onna saw this as an opportunity and agreed to let me go with them.” Though she did not answer his question about trust explicitly, by her demeanor Wiglaff knew how she felt about the matter.
Wiglaff knew that this was a family matter and not Ugard’s business. He calmed his sister by telling her, “I’ll work things out to your advantage, and I won’t let the three elders violate you. I have an advantage in that the village elders underestimate me. No one would believe that I could or would do damage to others. So I’ll go armed with you and defend your honor. When you go with them, carry sheathed knives tipped with poison hidden in your clothing. Will you do that?”
“I’ll do exactly as you say.” She dried her eyes with the backs of her hands.
On the way back down the mountain, Wiglaff asked Ugard, “May I have your permission to be away for a while on family business?”
The old shaman saw that Winna had been crying. He acquiesced and asked, “Can I help you in any way?”
Wiglaff looked him in the eyes and said, “The matter has to be handled by family because of the implications for the village.”
Ugard nodded, pleased at his protégé’s resolve.
Wiglaff proceeded with Winna to Onna’s hut to prepare and then wait for the three elders to arrive. While they waited, Wiglaff told his mother, “I expect trouble at the meeting, so I intend to go with Winna to protect her.”
Onna, who raised an eyebrow to show her understanding of the real situation with the elders, replied, “You are the man in the family now. Do as you must. I’m glad you’re thinking of your sister. These are dark times.”
The elders arrived at sunset, and they went right into Onna’s hut as if they were entitled to do so. When they saw that Wiglaff was present, they could hardly contain their distaste for the shaman-in-training, and they laughed that he who was surely no warrior wanted to accompany them on this important meeting about village security.
Wiglaff shrugged and said, “I’m coming along anyway to see whether I can learn something from you wise elders and my warrior sister.”
Onna told the elders, “I think no harm will come from my son’s presence at the meeting. I beseech you to allow him to accompany his sister.”
So Wiglaff and Winna went with the three men deep into the forest. While they walked, the elders talked among themselves about matters of security, explicitly ignoring the brother and sister until they arrived at a meadow in a clearing.
There they made a dreadful mistake by trying to assault Winna immediately without regard to Wiglaff, whom they did not deem a threat worth restraining.
Wiglaff stabbed two of the men fatally in the kidneys, and he watched his sister remove one of her knives and stab the third man, who was then struggling to molest her while holding her by the waist. Because of the way he stabbed the men, they could not scream, run away or struggle further.
Wiglaff and Winna, breathing heavily, sat on the ground for a minute looking at each other. They were both exhausted and sickened by what had happened, but also deeply satisfied. How could things have ended happily with the assailants left alive? When Wiglaff saw that his sister had regained her mental balance, he urged her to stand up to finish their job. They wiped their knives clean of blood. They calmly walked back to Onna’s hut and hid their weapons.
Winna told Onna, “The three elders had no interest in my advice on security, so we left them in a meadow in a forest clearing. It’s a pity, since clearly this is a dangerous time.
Onna suspected what had happened by her daughter’s tone. She nodded and turned to her son.
Wiglaff warned his mother, “No mention should be made about my having accompanied the three men and Winna this night. If anyone asks, he should be told that Winna went with the men and returned when she learned they didn’t really need her advice. You must both stick to this story no matter what happens. All our lives depend on this.”
Onna now knew something was dreadfully wrong. In Wiglaff’s voice were echoes she had heard her husband use after a particularly vexing battle. She saw her son’s resolve. She made her choice to do exactly as he prescribed. She and Winna agreed that they would stick to the story Wiglaff advised them to tell.
The next day the village was in an uproar because the three elders had gone missing. No one knew why the men had failed to return to their huts the previous evening or where they might be now. Their wives and children were afraid something grievous had happened to them. Evidently the elders had not told their wives or anyone else what they intended to do the night before.
The village sent out searchers, who dutifully spent the rest of the day looking through the village for the elders and asking questions about the men’s last appearances, but the questions were directed at the male villagers, not the females, so no one asked Onna or Winna about the elders at all.
The day afterward, the search for the elders expanded to the regions outside the village right to the boundaries of the next villages on each side. Two searchers found the lifeless bodies of the three elders, where they had fallen slain. From their evaluation of the evidence, two men had been stabbed in the kidney from behind and the third had been stabbed in the abdomen from the front. Since nothing had been taken from any of the bodies, robbery seemed an unlikely motive for the killings.
Because the three men had been killed by three knife strokes, everyone assumed that three assailants, each male and each with a knife, had killed them. This line of reasoning eliminated any woman and any single man from consideration, so Wiglaff and Winna felt reasonably safe. Onna and Winna kept silent because no one had asked them about the matter. Onna had suspicions of her own, but she kept them to herself.
The remaining village elders had a meeting to discuss the security problems that the killings represented. No one wanted another village war, but they felt something had to be done to prevent another such incident.
No one considered asking Winna to join the group that was appointed to design the security structure for the village, because women weren’t supposed to be warriors. No one consulted either the shaman or his pupil. What would’ve been the point of asking magicians about important matters like security?
So the mystery of the murders went unsolved, and the group that had been formed to do something concrete about the security problem met a few times and then disbanded without any constructive measures being instituted. All these things Winna reported to Wiglaff on her next visit to the mount
ain cavern. Again the brother and sister walked together to the summit to review what they had done.
“Winna, this time we were lucky. We took care of our problem of the lecherous elders without making an issue of their intentions or ours. Justice was done, and the mystery of their deaths will go unsolved. Only one person knew that the three elders intended to lure you into the forest to violate you. What does she think of all that has happened? Does she suspect that you or I was involved?” Asking these questions, Wiglaff was carefully weighing what to do about his sister’s friend. He was worried enough to consider killing the woman, but he tried to remain calm as he talked the matter through with his sister.
“My friend never asked me what happened that night. She thought the three men must have been assaulted before they came to fetch me. I agreed with her that I was lucky they met their fates before they could do any harm to me. She didn’t know about your being present. I had no reason to tell her that you came to accompany me into the forest, and she wouldn’t have believed that you or I could have killed all three elders without significant help from others.”
Wiglaff nodded and said, “Still, the village has a genuine security problem, but it has no way to address it. The current elders haven’t got a clue how to proceed. No one’s thinking about the lessons of the village wars. And what if a real threat came to destroy the village and kill or enslave the villagers?” He paused and looked into his sister’s eyes for an answer.
Winna’s brow furrowed when she said, “I’ve given the question a lot of thought. Our father was the last person who knew enough about fighting and who had the trust of the village in matters of war. Even he failed to anticipate the village wars, and then he died at the end of them. So it’s likely that we’ll have to face new threats as we are and do our best to combat our enemy.” She looked grimly resolved.
Wiglaff told her, “Being a shaman and being a warrior have some things in common. They’re both necessary for the welfare of our village. They both require commitment and practice. They must be entrusted to people who stand outside the normal village community. Don’t you remember the low opinion our father had for the elders? He would fume and rage and curse about them all the time. What did he do? He found ways to identify and train warriors in spite of the blindness and corruption of the council of elders. I’m afraid we’ll have to think how we might do the same thing, quietly.”
The WIglaff Tales (The Wiglaff Chronicles Book 1) Page 2
