Myran

by Angela J. Ford

  “We know Mermis now,” Charlon interrupted my thoughts.

  “Yes, we do,” I nodded at him. “Then, the White Steeds had to rely on their strength to build the fortress. We were more numerous almost a hundred years ago or else it would have taken all of those years to build this massive fortress out of stone. When the place was determined, White Steeds came from far and wide to help build. They swore to secrecy and determined to protect White Steeds from the invasive Black Steeds who were starting their campaign of massacre.” I paused here and shuddered before continuing.

  A flashback of memories overwhelmed me: my mother singing and playing with my hair, leaning over the fire, cooking, and laughing with my father. My father swinging me above his head, and I holding on tight to their necks and sleeping safely in their arms. I remembered the little hut where my most precious childish days were spent before they were taken away from me. Suddenly, I wanted that hut again, not that one particularly, but, looking around the fortress, I realized this was not such a place to raise a child, at least, to give them a childhood like mine. If I ever got to the place in life in which I married, which did not look likely, even at only twenty-one, I would want to raise my children where they could be wild, free, and, most importantly, safe. I felt that was what my parents had wanted for me; only it was not safe. As much as my mind told me that the fortress was the safest place in the world to live, my heart could not give up the hope of one day returning to the land of the Iaen, and I was surprised as this thought passed through my mind.

  “And then what happened?” asked Charlon, pulling at the skirt of my dress.

  I quickly retrieved from my thoughts. “Crons, Tiders, Ezincks, and all the talking animals began to build. The foundation was laid, the stones were piled high, and the plans and designs were laid out, almost as if they were working with one mind. Those were glorious days for the White Steeds as they built this place high. Each group worked on a different part and built so many secret passages and doorways. They built an underground cavern, reaching out to the sea, that fills the barrels that the mice are in charge of. Then it was almost as if the sun changed the colors on the stones because some were white, mirroring the clouds; others were blue, borrowing from the sky; and some were as green as the leaves of the forest. Finally, when the fortress was finished, it was as if the Daelidrains blessed it and made it strong. The White Steeds, in full joy, poured into the fortress. In that way, some were able to escape, and others went and spread the news of the strong fortress. Ever since, White Steeds have come in great numbers to abide here and to escape the increasing darkness.”

  The little girl, sitting in my lap finally took her wet thumb out of her mouth and looked up at me. Her large, round eyes were full of trust. “And we will live here forever and ever?” she asked.

  Before I could answer, Charlon did. “Yes, forever and ever.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her out of my lap. “Come. I want to tell you a story!”

  The two ran off into a corner of the room, and despite myself, I laughed. I knew he was repeating back to her exactly what I had told him. Stories were a powerful encouragement.

  Another little girl crept into my lap as I watched the hilarious antics of my small and varied charges. One day, I'd tell their stories to other small but brave children, most of them orphaned and left to die. They were all much braver than I had been; their joyous noises filled the room. They laughed as if they never had anything to cry about. They sang loudly and out of tune as if they were the best singers in the world. They danced their funny, little, mismatched steps, shamelessly trying to imitate the Cron who drank too much wine and ended up singing, laughing, and talking about old times. I watched two young boys hitting each other with wooden swords; already they were quite good. One day, they would become amazing warriors.

  A strong sense of protection rose up inside of me as I held their warm bodies and stroked their unruly hair. I would take care of them and make sure they wanted for nothing. No one would harm them, not under my watch at least.

  I sat there thinking, lost in a world of my own dreams, when the door opened and in walked Shelo. She was an older Cron, advancing in her middle years. Like me, she had come to the fortress as a young one and had taken up with the children. Now she carried a small bundle wrapped in travel-stained clothes in her arms. When I looked at her, her eyes were full of tears. “What happened?” I sprang up, running to her side. My worried eyes darted from her to the bundle. It was a babe with eyes shut tight, sleeping with its tiny fists curled near its face.

  “Less than a week old.” Shelo looked at me and shook her head. Gently, she passed the babe into my arms, and I was surprised at how light and tiny it was.

  “Who found this one?” was all I thought to say, staring at the small miracle.

  “Oh, they are always coming and going, but this time one Tider and one Cron returned with this babe and a company of Crons.”

  I looked at her, and I did not think about then. I looked at the tiny babe and thought of the sweet oblivion she would grow up in. Oh, to be a naive child again with no exposure to bitter death.

  Shelo gave me a concerned look. “You will want to see the visitors,” she said.

  I did not believe her.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  A Tale

  I walked through the fortress in the dark, a single candle outstretched in my cold hand. Its flame flickered and danced, casting abnormal shadows on the walls. The children were all sound asleep now, and if they woke up crying from deathly nightmares, others would see to them. I could hear the rest of the inhabitants behind doors, talking, laughing, singing, drinking, and eating. Some spoke earnestly, others fearfully and angrily. I knew somewhere there were those intensely discussing what news the newcomers had brought. It was to their door that I ventured alone and unafraid in the darkness.

  The warm safety of the fortress surrounded me like a blanket on a chilly spring night, impeding out all thoughts of fear. The door I approached was cracked, and a pool of yellow light streamed out of it. I hesitated before going in because I liked standing out there in the gentle darkness, the cold, bare stones beneath my feet. It was only natural for me to pause before walking out of my own thoughts into the world of spoken opinion and tangible ideas. It was during that pause that I first saw him, sitting beside Leon, who was talking quite animatedly, as usual. Hal sat there, calmly adding a word in now and then while others threw in their input.

  I did not know how to react at first; it had been four years since I had last seen him. I was grown now and saw him through different eyes. He and Leon still looked the same, if only more travel-stained and knowledgeable. As I watched their faces in the glow of the fire and the dancing candles, suddenly I wasn't so sure if I should creep into the room to listen as usual. Slowly, careful not to make a sound, I began to withdraw from the doorway. The movement, slight as it was, must have caught his attention for his head turned, and even in that poor light, I could tell his black hair was still long and fine. He looked up, and his dark eyes caught mine. Unexpectedly, my thoughts were overwhelmed with memories that were years old. I remembered our first disgraceful meeting and then our refreshing journey in which I learned more of the world and ways of my people. Now I was immersed in them, more of a Cron now than an Iaen. I wondered if he remembered my poor tale; it was quite common now, almost the same as every other. Those thoughts ran swiftly through my mind, but it was only a brief glance, lasting less than two seconds. Not knowing if I should acknowledge him or even if he remembered me, I fled.

  ***

  “So, you thought I'd want to see the visitors.” I confronted Shelo the next morning, pacing back and forth as the children played in their various riotous ways around us. Shelo held the new babe.

  Shelo pretended to be obsessed with the infant as she stroked her fair head. “Visitors generally do not stay forever,” she said. "I would make the best of this opportunity if I were you."

  “What are you talking about?” I was just short
of infuriated. I knew what she was talking about, and she gave me an expression that told me she knew I knew. Frustrated, I went on. “Yes, we met and traveled here together, but that was four years ago, and then they were only here for half a year. Don't you get it? Four long years ago. I don't even know if we remember each other!”

  Shelo just smiled at me in an annoying way. I suddenly thought of the “wild things” and their way of foreseeing. Spooked, I looked at Shelo sharply. “What do you know?” I demanded.

  “Oh, nothing. I cannot see the future, but I saw this circumstance happen before. Ultimately the choice is yours. You could become like me and stay here and take care of the children. I do not know that, with your shadowed past, this life would satisfy you. You've seen much of the world, I wager.” She looked at me now with inquisitive eyes.

  I bit my tongue for a moment, knowing she spoke the truth, and yet there were none here who knew my tale. There was only one place where I let myself think of what I missed, and that was when I was high on the balcony. Alone. I missed the teasing winds whispering around me and the triumphant feeling of conquering the world by climbing the lofty branches of a tree. I missed sitting close enough to the sky to whisper secrets up to its blue vastness. I missed the freedom of losing myself in the invisible paths of the woodlands and listening to the song of the waterfall that told me of its numerous adventures. I missed the tangy smell of pine and fragrant flowers and the unmistakable mystery surrounding the sacred land I lived on. I missed the patter of woodland creatures and my wild friends stopping to say hello. There was a vast difference between creatures in the wild and the ones who inhabited the fortress. I was used to their strange and unexpected ways and the tall tales of what they had seen from afar. And then there were small scrimmages about tree border lines, where to build a nest and the best place to search for food. Did my golden dreams dare allow me to even think about returning to that sacred paradise? Granted, there is a vast difference between safety and paradise. The thought of possibly leaving in the future had never struck me, but now the force of it threatened to blow me over. My whole purpose in coming to the fortress was not to leave it but to find a place of safety to rest for the end of my days. But Shelo went and blew my preconceptions to pieces. Of course, ultimately it was my choice, but now I was thinking, and my brain would not stop.

  Shelo placed a hand on my shoulder, which snapped me out of my wondering reprieve. “Don't think so hard.” She looked at me kindly. “Here. She needs a name,” she said and placed the babe in my arms.

  “Leina,” I said, almost without thinking. “Her name is Leina.”

  Shelo paused. “You have a gift,” she said. “That is beautiful.”

  I looked down at the sleeping child nestled in my arms and wondered what she dreamed of so unknowingly in her peaceful sleep. I hoped she would always know this quiet fortress and never have to experience first-hand the power of darkness. I did not know the precious gift I had given her in a name, but it caused me to think. If one day I had one of my own...Then, for unknown reasons, I shuddered.

  Shelo still watched me. She never asked people about their dark pasts, but I knew sometimes she must wonder. To distract her from thinking about me, I handed the baby back. “Look, I am going upstairs for food.”

  I was really going to see if I could hear a word of the visitors, and the Mermis, who I could always find around the kitchen, seemed to know almost everything. Even so, I found my heart was pounding strangely harder than normal as I exited the room and shut away the noise from the young ones.

  I threaded my way through throngs of people. That was one drawback of the fortress; I found myself living with a multitude of perfect strangers who day by day grew more familiar until they disappeared and another round of strangers took their places. I never understood why some would seek the safety of the fortress and then head back out to the uncertainties of the cold world. Maybe some found surer hiding places, but wherever they were, I still wondered if those who left were still White Steeds. I always supposed so, but then again, I'd never been betrayed by White Steeds turning Black. Although I vaguely remembered hearing those tales, they were not uncommon.

  Skirting past hungry Crons, children ignoring their parents and playing in the stairways (for not all children were orphans), and mice carrying barrels and singing at the top of their shrill lungs, I made my way up to the kitchens. The kitchen was far from quiet, even in midmorning, it was crowded with people who all found it worthwhile to be cooking because the hundreds and hundreds of inhabitants seemed to be eating every second of the day. Even at night, there were always some people up eating and drinking over their important conversations.

  I found the three Mermis around a large table covered with some sort of cinnamon and sugar pastries. They were cooking the raw ones and putting the piping hot ones out to cool. It couldn't have been clearer if they had put a sign on them and wrote: “to be distributed throughout the fortress” because others kept coming in and whisking them away in large baskets. I tasted one of the small buns and found myself satisfied with its light but delicious flavor. Leaka saw my face and smiled as she glided over. “If you like that, I wish I could take you to Spherical Land and let you sample their delights.”

  I smiled back. It had taken a while. The laughing, singing, and dancing Mermis, whom Cuthan the Adventurous had described, were actually shy and serious without their kind surrounding them. Now they were becoming more comfortable with living in the fortress, yet they stuck to the hot kitchens and shied away from the overwhelming attention they received. People counted the Mermis as heroes because of the part they played in helping Pharengon of the Jeweled Sword and his companions save the Eastern World. Maybe the Mermis sensed my connection with creatures of the wood for they were more open with me. We had been sly friends, and I did not seek their company every day, which would have been impossible. I could sympathize with them because I knew how it felt to live free and wild in the woods and then to find oneself captured by the press of people and voices all around.

  “What made you three decide to stay?” I asked Leaka as Sletaira and Indonesia walked over. I cut straight to the real reason I was there.

  “Ah, so now you want the story from our point of view,” said Leaka, and the next thing I knew, we were all sitting together around the pastries, flour, and mouthwatering scents in the middle of the kitchen. Somewhere I heard the mice put down a barrel and someone else yell directions.

  “I just wondered…” I started over. “There are better places to settle than here, and you have been to all the worlds.”

  “I must admit,” Sletaira started softly, “traveling with Cuthan was my favorite adventure.”

  Leaka laughed. “Wasn't it all of ours? Too bad it was so short!”

  I looked at the two of them giggling over Cuthan. Indonesia had enough of their foolishness and, blocking out their laughter, turned to me and began unwinding a beautiful tale, which began in another world and ended in front of me. “We were born in Spherical, the beautiful kingdom high above the Afrd Mounts in the Western World. I am the daughter of Crinte the Wise. Leaka and Sletaira are daughters of Marklus the Healer. We are granddaughters of the king of Spherical. It's also known as Bubble Land now.” She sighed, her violet eyes flashing. “The bubbles give off a lovely perfume and cause all to be blessed with life and health and strength. In fact, the scent is so strong that some Mermis can only live without the smell for a certain number of days. Not so with us, we dwell just fine without the effects of the bubbles. Besides, we were born well after the curse, but because we were born, the king gave us, the Blended Ones, the task of becoming storytellers: that is spreading tales of encouragement from world to world. A great company of us flew to the North Forests of the landmass of the Eastern World. We were given a secret mission, and, thus, we took the Silver Herd and our prisoner and set forth.”

  “But there isn't much to say about it,” Leaka interrupted. She had bright red hair, closer to the color of a ruby than any
thing else. “We saw sky and then water and sky yet again. We could never stop for there was no place to land and rest our weary heads and that was when we were glad for any clouds which happened to be drifting out there. Oceantic is amazingly clear and cloudless so sometimes we just had to press on. There was never a happier sight than when we finally saw the islands of the Eastern World.”

  Sletaira took over. She looked nothing like her sister, Leaka, for she had hair like wheat. “After we left the islands, we settled under the leafy boughs of the strange North Forests. You must remember, all we had known was Spherical, and life was lived at a great height. Granted, we did sometimes go dance on the mountain tops during the evenings, but living under trees on the ground was...” Sletaira trailed off.

  “Interesting,” Leaka went on. “We learned the lay of the land, and then we were able to grow comfortable in our seclusion.”

  “Did you ever miss home and your parents?” I asked, thinking how brave they were to choose to leave. They had everything: parents who were heroes across the Four Worlds and families who were not slain. How could they leave?

  “Oh, with everything in us,” Sletaira answered. “But living in the Eastern World for those years felt right despite our wish that we could return home.”

  “Yes, it did feel right,” said Leaka. “As hard as it was to adapt, we did, and then even the forest became a sort of home.”

  Indonesia picked the story back up. “We did not realize how much we were missing out on news of the world. In Spherical, there is daily news concerning how the mortals are living their lives down below us. In the forest, we were completely cut off until Pharengon and his friends came and told us their tale. When we saw the Jeweled Sword, we knew we must help them. After we heard their tale and restored them to their kingdom, we knew it was time to tell their story to other worlds. Then…” Indonesia grinned, showing her row of tiny, sharp teeth. “Along came Cuthan. He asked to come with us. No, he begged. And because half of them were already in love with him, we took him.”