Myran

by Angela J. Ford

  “Child.” Now her voice was full of reproof. “I know your fears, but you do not know what you risk here. Iaens are just that, wild, and all Idrains are not kind, though good we may be. It was auspicious they showed forbearance this long; now it is over. You do not want to risk their anger.”

  “They are immortals.” I grew angry now. “Let them wait; they should not be allowed to run the world, the one place I can go. Now they want it back! It has been twelve long years!”

  “And it will be longer still if you stay here until your bones are whitened and taken back by the ground. Do you know how long it will be for them? Have you grasped knowledge of the future and the powers at war? This may not be your desire, but it is not about you. Do you think I am not as hesitant to leave? Do you think you are the only one?”

  Feeling rebuked, I walked after her. “No,” I called after her flaming image. “I do not think I am the only one. Why cannot you stand up to them?”

  “I do not wish it,” she replied and turned.

  I sensed her displeasure with me. As much as I felt the urge to run and hide, I followed. “Where do we go?” I asked softly, trying to make amends.

  “You would not want to know. Ask again sometime.”

  I wanted to know what she meant, and then I did not want to know. “Is this how journeys always start? A sudden departure?”

  “With us, so it is. There is nothing you need except for food.”

  I wanted to disagree and tell her of all my dreams at the waterfalls and treasures in the cave and spread out over the forest. I wanted to tell her all my childhood and forest friends were wrapped up in this hidden mountain. Then, I saw Whryling; she came flying towards me and landed on my shoulder. “My people, they have finally come!” she cried, and then she was off to join them.

  ***

  Sometimes, even in the midst of enchanting beauties, all one can see is destruction and sorrow. The realization was gradual, but my anger held. All that I knew was falling. It was slowly disappearing with each step I took. North and slightly east we ventured, yet I hardly cared. Directions meant nothing; adventures were not wanted. I only wanted a firm standing, and with the future before me, an invincible blank, the fear started coming once again. My feet continued to obey while my heart told me: No, leave this companion and the dreaded life that is impending. Stay. Hide. My feelings were torn.

  Meanwhile, the exterior of the forest was delightfully beautiful, even in the misty eeriness of the night. The white moon shone its' lesser light between the far-stretching reaches of tree boughs. Luthín looked the color of a moonbeam, fading into the shadows of the deep. I followed wordlessly, almost breathlessly, forgetting to wonder about where we were going in this dire flight, what troubles we would face, and what circumstances we would be thrust into.

  In the vague mist of the forest, we went, wasting no time for sleep. Long was the night as the clouds drifted down to kiss the earth and bury us in their cold clamminess. The moon white continued to shine. Then slowly it began to burn off, and no longer was there any luster. It was as if the moon was tired, and its light began to drop and fade. Its brilliance disappeared, and under the hazy cover of clouds, Luthín and I continued our silent journey. She was always two steps ahead, striding quickly and never looking back to see if I were following. Sometime later another joined her. I knew it to be Tilyon, and our pace quickened. Soon, it seemed as if we were running and fleeing. We were white shapes in the darkness, moving forward at an untraceable pace. Every step was a pang, but not a physical one. Outwardly, I felt nothing; inwardly, my walls of safety were crashing, my heart was breaking, and my anger was only helping to destroy the protective barrier. The fear and hopelessness were back, and my mind was heavy, glaring into the vast unknown.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Lightening Vision

  I woke to a silvery light. I could tell it was daylight, yet a phantom of mist floated and snaked its way around me. We were still deep in the forest, lost in its secret and hidden paths. Everything here was enchanted; it all seemed to move around me, or maybe it was the eeriness of the mists. Nothing seemed real, yet everything was touchable. The leaves seemed to have their own bodies, moving, no, even floating in the shadows. The grass was flattened under the presence of the unearthly creatures and even the vast trunks shuddered under an impending weight. Once again, I began to feel the fullness of the power of the Iaen and their knowledge and infinite life. It began to touch me, creeping over my body softly, until I felt cold and clammy and I realized what I had been fighting. Who could live so close to a power impossible to resist, knowledge vast beyond understanding? This was true fear: the large knowledge that stood up and looked me square in the face and told me this life was not for me. I was not an Iaen and would never be one. This is why I must leave and give them back their sacredness, return their secrets to their keepers, and never stir beyond their untraceable borders again. There was no fighting this mystery; they had relented as long as I was a child. Now, grown as I was, it was over, and they returned home. As for me, what would happen to me? Life was meandering, following the directions of the wind. Now I was the stone that had been cast into the waterfall. It was my turn to go, and as much as I wanted to refuse, I could not resist.

  “Are you ready?” Luthín asked. I was surprised at the question; I expected her to rush me off as she did the day before.

  “I will never be ready.” My words sounded neutral in the unforgiving air, pushing me further from the secretive Iaen. “I know now though that it is not up to me.”

  “Then you feel it too.” She paused, lost for a moment, in what, I could not understand. She appeared to be seeing more than thinking.

  Tilyon walked up; it was the signal for departure. Luthín quickly turned to me, almost apologetically. “You cannot know. It must be like you have never been here.” And without warning, she produced a greenish belt that she wound around my eyes.

  A slight hint of anger washed over me, but the relentless power of the Iaen was strong. I knew it would be useless to disagree, so I simply let myself be guided by Luthín's nimble fingers. My thoughts I kept to myself from the probing of the Iaen who seemed to know all, which was all too much. One cannot expect a child raised by nature to suddenly become tame. As much as I liked my wandering ways, I wished for little more than security, and by ripping me apart, the Iaen had lost my trust.

  ***

  Every moment in my life, every decision, and every step forward and backward can be traced to my childhood and the effect the Iaen had on me and what I choose to do with their upbringing. They were the very ones who characterized my life, even up until the very end. The blame lies at their feet; the ways they interacted and my reactions to them changed everything. Maybe, just maybe, things would have been different, but would they have led to the same outcome? I did not think of that then. I did not ponder the meaning of fear and trust, turning those words over and over and mulling their other meanings. I thought only of myself and the escape from the dangerous and overbearing Iaen. What eventually happened was because of all those choices.

  ***

  “Where are we going?” I asked sometime later. It was more of a request than a demanded. I felt at least I deserved to know where we were heading and whether they were faithlessly casting me out into the wild, returning me to my people, or finding a new hiding place.

  “The shadows are fixed far from here,” Luthín murmured as if she did not hear my request.

  “We are returning to the Green Havens,” Tilyon replied in his smooth voice. “Do not worry. They accept outsiders there.” Then he paused, maybe thinking he had offended me by calling me an outsider. “You will not be forced to leave there…” He trailed off.

  Even though I could not see their expressions, I felt rather than visualized the exchange of glances between Luthín and Tilyon. Something was budding; there was information they were hiding from me. “Are you going to take me to my people? Are you tired of hiding me?” I demanded, unkindly.

>   One of them stepped on a stick, an unlikely misstep for an Iaen. It snapped loudly despite the light fluidity of our movements. The remains of my question were answered in silence, but I knew at least I had reached part of the truth and fell quiet for the remainder of the day.

  I heard the forest move. The creatures of the wood continued to live their lives, even with the surprise of travelers silently but swiftly moving through their land. I detected the sound of paws scaling trunks and wings beating the air. I heard the gentle, almost indistinct sounds of the patter of feet against the muddied dirt, the sweet-smelling grass and the older leaves and sticks, fallen and rotting. The blindfold heightened my sense of hearing. I let my feet walk around the path while my mind whirled, wondering, reaching, and grasping for a thread of hope and certainty. What would I do when I quit the company of the all-too-knowing Iaen? Where could I hide and yet survive? I knew the forest, yet it was the home of the creatures of the wood. I was uncertain how much longer they would tolerate me, even if my guardians were around. Survival without them might be impossible, yet I would find a way.

  Later, the rapid pace of forest life slowed, and the air chilled around me. I heard larger wings and higher voices calling; the animals were tiptoeing around each other. Now came the dance of the hunter and prey, and night, as if hiding this deathly game, came like a swift cloud and covered the nocturnal activities.

  Even with this change, however slight, my guardians continued to travel on, pausing for neither food nor drink. It was like the night before; it was a flight into the unknown. A sense of desperation spread, and soon I began to feel chilled and lost. Darkness gathered its' deep despair around me, but instead of relaxing in its arms, I grew tense. At this pace, I guessed we would soon arrive at the Green Havens. Once again, I would be trapped in their designs of life. Possibly, there would be another fight about me and then a decision. I had to escape as soon as my eyes were released. Then it would be my turn to disappear into the forest. It would be my turn to forsake the sacred rules and laws the Iaen appeared to keep.

  Once again, much later, a thought struck my mind, like a lightening vision, and I realized what my plan was. It was my turn to follow the waterfall, and this time I would get to choose which route to take. It was time to find my people. With that thought, I embraced the dark and enveloped myself in a dreamless sleep.

  ***

  I woke with my face embedded in a patch of clover; the blindfold was gone. I sat up warily, but we were only in a small glade of the forest. It was a place where brilliant flowers grew, and there was enough sunlight to go around. I felt gratified in seeing this slight piece of beauty, not that the world of the Iaen wasn't exquisite beyond belief, because it was. Yet with all its richness, catching a glimpse of ordinary beauty in the world of the mythical was refreshing. Slowly and warily I sat up, brushing leaves and grass out of my hair and off my clothes. There was something I should be doing, something I should remember. The thought pressed intensely on my brain, but I wiped it away with the happy thought of running free in the woods among light and beauty such as this.

  The sight of Luthín and Tilyon dashed my thoughts. The two sat face to face, sharing the first meal and whispering, perhaps in that language of theirs. She smiled for a minute; however, the joy faded because of his calm, serious words. She replied back, and then they were silent, reading each other's thoughts through their eyes. I stood slowly, took out my pouch, and unwrapped the first meal for myself, wondering what the strange yet moist leaves were. I'd eaten them all my life.

  Even though my movements were like theirs, slight and silent, like a dance, they still heard me with their large ears. As one, their heads moved to look at me and slowly they stood. Their expressions were gentle. They were cautious of hurting me, yet, for some reason, I think they knew my feelings of resentment. “The forest closes,” Tilyon said, but I did not understand what he meant by it. “Tomorrow we reach the Green Havens,” he continued. Tomorrow it would be too late for me. “From there...”

  “We will tell you all,” Luthín finished.

  I looked from one to the other. “Why not here?” My voice was soft; the traces of anger had faded. I was almost pleading. “Why not now? Then it will be too late.”

  “What do you mean?” Luthín asked. She walked toward me, but I thought she already knew.

  I shrugged. The ways and paths of the Iaen were always hidden; by then, it would be too late for me to find my way out of their maze. “Let's go then.” My voice dropped away, almost to a whisper. I did not want to hint; they knew too much already.

  Luthín continued to close in on me. For a minute, I thought she was going to blindfold me again, but she whispered in my ear. “Don't do this.”

  “Why not?” I whispered; my arrogance was back.

  “Not this way.”

  “What will happen then, if not more hiding and more running?”

  “I cannot see all.”

  “Are you warning me then? What else could happen?”

  “Give us more time.”

  I turned away, ending the conversation. I realized as much as she forced me to leave my haven of safety, she would not completely take over my life. True, she had saved me, but she saw my strong will and apparently would not try to run my life indefinitely. Maybe she saw what that would lead to in the future. For now, she sighed and turned back to Tilyon. “Onward then.” She turned away from me, set forward, and never looked back.

  ***

  If I had not been too stubborn back then, maybe I would have realized what powerful allies I was losing. Maybe it all would have turned out differently, but then, no, I was meant to find my own way.

  We moved out of the sunlight into the refreshing shadows of the forest. I followed, all the while turning through memories, searching, rummaging for the key. I brushed past the blossoming spring of the forest, the energy and life it poured forth into a depressing dying world. I was consumed with my thoughts until a place plopped into my stream of consciousness: the fortress of the White Steeds. A faint memory of Luthín speaking of it skipped through my mind. Everyone knew where it was. Seek, and one can find it. The fortress would be my salvation. For the first time during that long journey; I calmed down. I had decided. After that, I was able to pay attention to my surroundings and take in the direction of the sun to know which way we were traveling, which was northeast. I did not know which direction the fortress lay, but if I escaped from the Iaen, maybe I could find a way.

  Light faded, turning the forest crimson. Luthín looked around and spoke to the silent forest. “The shadows are fixed far from here.”

  “The forest closes,” Tilyon replied in a sing-song voice.

  “The meadows of the open land are near,” Luthín answered.

  “The land of the Crons lies east.”

  “Their fortress is close to the sea.”

  “All this lies east.”

  “Along the border of the forest.”

  “Tangled in threads of thick trees.”

  “A haven of safety for White Steeds who venture near.”

  Slowly their words turned into a song, building off of each other. Although I pretended not to pay attention, I caught their meaning. I knew what they were telling me. It never occurred to me at that time that maybe that was all there was to their plan. Maybe they never meant to do anything with me after all; I was always supposed to run away. Yet even as they talked to me, the words changed into another language: only words an Iaen would sing. I knew they were reaching home, finally. It was the place where they truly belonged, along with their kind, their people, if you call creatures of the wood people. Even though I did not understand their wild words, I felt their meaning, and it slowed me down.

  Their voices blended with each other yet still echoed off the newly tingling leaves and buds bursting with light. The voices within the activity of the forest paused to listen, and then the wind wafted and carried along their song. I never learned their language. I never understood it. But that evening,
as the night faded the light into shadows, I knew only what they were telling me. Even in Iaen, I understood.

  Luthín and Tilyon spoke of my life and of how they became my guardians and protectors. They spoke of the fortress in the east and the White Steeds drifting and hiding, even from one another. They whispered of the secrets told in our safe haven, hidden from the world by the thunder of the waterfall and the hidden paths of the forest. A sorrowful tone was taken on when they spoke of our flight. Even this hinted towards hope at finally being reunited after the self-inflicted banishment, although they did not go as so far as to sing about that. Last of all, they sang of my life and the fact that I trusted them no more and was determined to leave, even though they wished to take me along to the Green Havens before introducing me to my people. It would be less of a shock if they were there. Yet they knew I must go my own way, and they would let me. They wanted me to know, to know always, that they were my friends, and if the need should come, they always would be my guardians. Always.

  Their voices continued to blend and melt and sway yet carried on by the wind. As they continued, my steps grew still until I came to a complete stop and listened to the most beautiful words I had ever heard. My heart was confused; my head did not make sense anymore. I stood alone in the glowing new life of the forest while the wind delivered their message to me. In the midst of my confusion, my eyes brimmed, the dimming forest swayed before my overwhelmed eyes, and my tears went on their long suicidal journey to the forest floor, where they shattered into a million pieces.

  When my vision cleared again, I could see them no more, yet I still heard their song—although I did not know if it was an echo in my heart or the faint rush of the wind. It was at an end; my time with the Iaen was over. No matter what they said, they still had lost my trust. I turned into the open arms of the reaching darkness and ran.