The Ways of Winter

by Karen Myers

  Right now the servants were laying logs in the broad fireplace and clearing the furniture off to one side. Edern directed the staff to set up a semicircle of chairs facing the fire with a large open space for Seething Magma in front of it. At the end of the room nearest the inner doors of the manor, other servants set up food and drink.

  Ceridwen sent one of them off on an errand, and soon both she and Eluned were set up with small tables and writing materials near the fire which was taking the chill off the room. As Cadugan returned from his initial arrangements outside, she beckoned him to a seat beside her, and they shared the table. George watched this byplay and thought, she knew he’d want to take notes and planned the courtesy.

  Eluned stood to introduce herself as Rhys approached his own seat, next to Rhodri. George was struck by the resemblance between them, both blond in this room of dark-haired people.

  “My lord, I’m Eluned, come to help you as Ceridwen has helped your foster-father.”

  Rhys bowed. “I am honored, my lady. Please be welcome.”

  “You know, we’re kin,” she said. “I was your mother’s great-aunt, her grandmother’s sister.”

  Rhys stiffened. “No, I didn’t realize. Did you know her well?”

  “Only as a child. My travels took me far away in the early years of her marriage, and then it turned out there was no more time.”

  Rhys lowered his head at the thought of his mother Eiryth, abducted with his father by Madog when he was ten years old, and killed.

  Edern stood and bowed to her as well. “Welcome, kinswoman.” She nodded in reply and reseated herself.

  George anchored one end of the semicircle, to help as Seething Magma’s translator. Broch set himself next to him, as close to her as he could get, and never took his eyes off of her. Idris sat beside him, and next to him, Rhys’s marshal, Lleision.

  Cydifor found a seat behind Rhodri and made himself as unnoticeable as possible.

  Rhys took charge of the meeting. He’s come a long way in a few weeks, George thought, as he watched the young man. He’s done well to take his foster-father as a model.

  “We are here assembled with our council and our guest, Seething Magma. Before we hear her story, is there anything affecting our defenses that can’t wait?”

  Idris said, “Gwyn’s greatest concern was the peculiar situation with the Edgewood Way and the disappearance of his courier.”

  Lleision replied, next to him. “We have the way entrance blocked and guarded, and we haven’t seen any messenger since Friday.”

  Cadugan spoke up. “The travelers are being housed in guest halls and we’ll be settling them in the Edgewood villages over the next few days, those that are come to stay. They’re all taken care of for the present.”

  Edern summarized. “I see no reason we can’t now spend whatever time is necessary to hear from our guest.”

  Rhys nodded. “Huntsman, are you the only one who can talk to her? Will you please make the introductions?”

  George rose and remained standing. “It may only be me who hears her but I think she can understand all of us, words and thoughts. She doesn’t speak to me in words, but in pictures and emotions.”

  He turned to her and bowed. “My lady Seething Magma, thank you for bringing us from the Archer’s Way and for waiting so patiently. Are you comfortable? Is everything to your liking?”

  *Yes, thanks.*

  “Alright. Let me present to you Rhys, earl of this Edgewood domain under his foster-father Gwyn, Prince of Annwn. This is his grandfather, Edern, Gwyn’s brother, acting temporarily as Rhys’s chancellor. Their kinsman Rhodri, a way-finder.”

  Rhys and Edern nodded from their seats, and Rhodri grinned.

  “Next to me are Idris, Gwyn’s marshal, and Lleision, Rhys’s marshal. Rhys has but lately taken charge here after a disastrous predecessor, and there is much work to do for the relief of his people and to welcome new settlers.”

  The two marshals nodded.

  “You’ve met Ceridwen and Eluned, scholars and healers for Gwyn and Rhys, respectively, and Cadugan, Rhys’s new steward.” They nodded, each in turn.

  “You’ve also met Broch, most eager to help, with all of his people. And behind Rhodri, just to be complete, is Cydifor, Rhys’s new musician.” Cydifor was aghast at the presumption and Rhys glanced back over his shoulder at him in surprise, but Rhodri next to him patted his arm and said he’d explain later.

  *Picture of George. Question?*

  “Oh, and I’m Gwyn’s great-grandson and his huntsman, a way-finder like my kinsman Rhodri.” And related in some way to Cernunnos, as we discussed, he thought to her.

  “Please tell us who you are and help us understand what you need. We’d like to help, if we can.”

  Mag visibly settled herself in place as the crackling fires behind them began to warm the room.

  *Pictures of Blue Ridge cutaway, budded child, child reaching.*

  “She’s asked me to summarize our conversation so far. Her name is Seething Magma. She lives inside the Blue Ridge, I’m not sure just where. She has a child, Granite Cloud. This child went away and is prevented from returning.”

  *Picture of Mag, child budding, growing up, leaving, repeated several time. Picture of Granite Cloud reaching, still a child.*

  “She’s had many children, all grown. This one’s very young, her youngest.”

  *Picture of Blue Ridge cutaway, view from higher, many miles long. Several creatures like Mag.*

  “There are more like Mag throughout the Blue Ridge. She showed me a picture, looked like it was maybe a hundred miles long or more. Are they all family, Mag?”

  *Yes. Picture of Mag, getting smaller, shrinking to a bud on another creature.*

  “Is that your mother, Mag?”

  *Yes. Picture of a pile of small rocks.*

  Another name, George thought. “Rock pile?”

  *Picture of river washing small pebbles, river vanishing, stones remaining.*

  “Pebbles? Gravel?”

  *Yes.*

  “Her mother’s name seems to be Gravel,” George told them. “She’s bigger than you are, isn’t she?”

  *Picture of Mag next to Gravel.*

  George swallowed. “Um, yes, her mother is larger than Mag. A lot larger. Like a small house.” To Mag, he said, “Gravel seems like such a little name.”

  *Amusement. Picture of Mag very small, picture of small red rock. Picture of Mag larger, picture of boiling lava. Picture of Gravel very small, picture of gravel pile. Picture of Gravel larger, picture of gravel pile.*

  “You change names as you grow up? What, Gravel is a baby name, like Sweetums?”

  *Yes.*

  The chuckles started with Rhodri but they spread until everyone, even Cadugan and Edern, were smiling. It broke the formal tension in the room, to think these ancient creatures would have baby names.

  *Picture of mouse, deer, man, Mag, horned man.*

  Yes, you’re right, he thought to her. More alike than different.

  Rhodri asked, “Is Granite Cloud her baby name?”

  *Picture of small bud, picture of granite, picture of cloud.*

  “Yes.”

  *Picture high in the hills. Small bud makes ways that exit high into the sky, falls, makes ways to catch herself before hitting the ground.*

  George was stunned. “She gets her name because of how she plays, like a skydiver. She makes a way that exits far up in the sky, like a cloud, then falls, and makes a way she can enter before she hits the ground.” He listened a moment. “Oh, it’s the same way, catching and throwing her over and over until she stops.”

  He rubbed his face. “Why, it’s like a children’s slide. How old is she, Mag? Is she very young?”

  *Consternation. Uncertainty.*

  “I think I’ve asked a hard one,” he told his audience.

  *Map of eastern part of continent as far as the Great Lakes. Recognition?*

  “Yes, I recognize that, Mag.”

  *Picture of map
, ice coming down from the north well past the Great Lakes. Recognition?*

  “Yes, I know about the ice ages.”

  *Satisfaction. Picture of Mag, Picture of ice advancing and receding.*

  George said, slowly, “I think Mag has just told me she’s seen the ice advance into the middle of this continent and then retreat. I’m not sure about the length of the previous glaciations and the interval before it, all I know is the most recent one retreated maybe twelve-fourteen thousand years ago. Without getting into actual numbers, let’s just estimate that she’s about fifty thousand years old. Or more. And I got the distinct impression that her mother was still alive.”

  Dead silence in the room, except for the scritch of Eluned’s pen.

  *Picture of the continent, east of the Blue Ridge. Question?*

  “Yes, I recognize that.”

  *Picture of horned man, arriving with an expedition of people. Question?*

  Was that the arrival of Gwyn when he moved Annwn here, he wondered.

  *Picture of Granite Cloud as a very small bud.*

  “Looks like Cloudie was born not long before Gwyn arrived.”

  *Wider picture, includes Shenandoah Valley across the Blue Ridge. Question?*

  “Yes, I recognize that, too.”

  *Another expedition arrives, picture of north end of Massanutten mountain rising from the valley floor.*

  That’s Madog’s arrival, I bet.

  *Picture of Granite Cloud playing. Drops down to look at people on Massanutten mountain. Picture of child reaching.*

  “Alright. What I think she’s trying to do is peg the dates by other events she thinks I’ll recognize. She saw Gwyn’s arrival when he moved Annwn, though it’s Cernunnos she noticed. She saw an arrival over in the Shenandoah Valley up on top of Massanutten mountain, I don’t know what your name for it is, the one that rises like a keel from the valley floor, maybe thirty miles from here on the other side of the Blue Ridge. Assuming that’s Madog’s people, then that would be about eight or nine hundred years ago, yes? Cloudie went to see what was going on and was somehow caught.”

  He paused. “I think Cloudie’s very young, for her kind, like a small child, and I think Madog’s got her.”

  “How’s he holding her, Mag?” he asked.

  *Frustration.*

  “That’s too hard for her to explain with this limited method. We’re going to have to break the question into pieces.”

  Rhys stood. “Let’s take a moment to eat and discuss this. Maybe we can come up with some theories to test against her.”

  “Mag, we’re going to pause and talk about it,” George said.

  *Agreement.*

  They filled plates from the food the servants had brought in and took them back to their seats, pulling up small tables as necessary to hold them.

  Rhodri and Eluned pulled chairs over to Mag while they ate. Eluned said, “I’d like to try a method for you to talk to more of us, if you don’t mind. Can you make a rapping sound, like this?”

  She knocked on her chair with a knuckle.

  Mag answered with a chock on the stone beneath her.

  “That’ll do fine. First step: one knock is for ‘yes,’ two knocks for ‘no,’ and three for ‘I don’t know.’ Clear?”

  One knock.

  “Can you understand all of us?”

  One knock.

  She turned to Rhodri. “You and I are going to need to put together some symbols to stand in for people and places. That way she can point to answers for ‘who’ and ‘where.’ Unfortunately, ‘how’ and ‘why’ are going to be much more difficult.”

  “Numbers would be useful, too. Here’s how we count,” she told Mag. She explained the decimal system, that a number like 234 could be represented as two hundreds, three tens, and four ones.

  As she demonstrated on her fingers, Mag surprised them by creating a pseudopod on each corner of her leading edge, with five rods, like fingers.

  “Yes! That will be a big help.”

  *Amusement. Admiration.*

  “She’s impressed by your skill in conveying all of this, Eluned,” George said.

  “Well, it’s what I do,” she demurred. “Though this is nothing like teaching a young student.”

  *Picture of Granite Cloud running off to play instead of listening.*

  “She agrees,” he said.

  Seething Magma settled down to wait and occupied herself watching the busyness of these new allies. She’d never been close to one of the two-legs before, much less so many, in one of their hives.

  She understood that the one in the middle, Rhys, was in charge here, as her mother Gravel made the important decisions for any clan members in range, but couldn’t understand why he was so young, clearly the youngest in the room. Even in their short lives, their experience colored their tastes as the drips of dissolved minerals colored the taste of stalagmites, and so their relative ages were clear to her.

  But still, the oldest of them—so young. She’d gathered from George’s thoughts that many of them were younger than Granite Cloud, much younger. How brief their own childhoods must be, no time to savor the world, to try its many flavors.

  The one she wanted, George, was also young but he tasted different. Must be the element of the horned man, the one he called Cernunnos. Too bad he can’t understand me more clearly.

  His thoughts revealed all sorts of interesting notions. It takes two of them to make a young one, how strange. That’s much on his mind. And he himself is from somewhere else, that strange place that a way occasionally breaks into. It must be somewhere with a long memory—she hadn’t expected him to recognize the pulsing of the ice.

  We’ve never heeded these creatures who use the ways we leave behind, but we were wrong, she decided. One of them has paid too much attention to Granite Cloud. From George she saw that they had a name for him, Madog, and that he was not a friend. Enemy was an odd concept for her. With so few of them and an endless world to inhabit, what did her kind have to dispute about? But even they were not immune to personal quarrels, perhaps it was something like that. It must be worse, though—she saw in George’s mind fleeting images of fights, wounds, deaths. They were very savage.

  She was impatient to free her child, now that she knew of the problem, but she could see that they had many things to occupy them, lives of their own. They wanted to help, and she trusted that they would, she could taste it. A few days would make no difference, certainly less to her than to them. She’d learn what she could while they readied themselves.

  She wished there were fewer of them in the room. Hard to keep the flavors of so many sentient beings separate, all in one place. How did they do it?

  As the council finished their meal and individual conversations, something about Seething Magma’s posture caught George’s attention. What’s wrong, he thought to her.

  *Picture of each person in the room, moving around, mingling. Too much weight.*

  Overload, he thought. Yes, crowds can be exhausting. We’re very different, but we all care about lost children.

  *Agreement. Picture of mouse, deer, man, Mag, horned man.*

  Rhys resumed the meeting. “We’ve heard much from our guest. Now we need to understand better what Madog has done, and how.”

  Rhodri said, “Ask her about the ways.”

  “Alright,” George said. “Mag, you made a way for us this morning. Do all of your kind make ways?”

  *Yes. Picture of Mag, making a way in the rock to eat, making a way in the rock to travel.*

  “Apparently it’s how they make passages in the rock, to eat and to move around.”

  “This would explain why so many ways are found in rock, one end or both,” Ceridwen said.

  He thought about Mag’s pictures for a moment. “When you travel, the way starts, there’s a transition, and the way ends. You’ve gone a good distance. When you eat, the way starts and ends, but there’s no transition. Is that right?”

  *Same. Difference not important.*
r />   “So, the transition is an arbitrary element of the way, not an essential one,” George said.

  “All the ways we use have a transition—it’s why they’re useful,” Rhodri said. “The ones that don’t are no better than tunnels.”

  “How about it, Mag? Are your kind responsible for all the ways, both underground and above?” George asked.

  *Surprise. Thought. Tentative agreement.*

  “Yes, she says.”

  Into the silence, she added *No. Picture of horned man.*

  “Alright, except for those made by Cernunnos.”

  *Picture of way in rock, crushed if mountain moves. Picture of Granite Cloud’s way in air, unanchored, dissolving. Picture of way on land. Anchored, slow to dissolve.*

  “This is complicated. Let’s see if I have it right. If they make a way in the rock, it lasts until the movement of the earth crushes it. If they make one in the air, there’s nothing to hold it, and it dissolves soon. If it’s on the land, then it’s anchored. I think it may eventually fall apart, but I can’t get a sense of the time scale.”

  Ceridwen said, “All the major ways, we’ve been using them for thousands of years.”

  “That’s not very long for our guest, is it?” Edern said.

  “Can they destroy a way?” Rhodri asked.

  Three knocks.

  “She doesn’t know,” Eluned said.

  *Picture of George, picture of the Archer’s Way exit.*

  “You want to know how we use the ways?”

  *Yes.*

  “Rhodri, you want to take this one?”

  Rhodri walked over to stand near Mag and talk to her directly. “Most of us can’t detect or use them. A few of us, like George and me, and Madog, can find them. We can see them at a distance. If the way is unclaimed, we can claim it.”

  *Question?*

  George said, “She wants to know more about claiming, I think.”

  Eluned broke in, “Mag, can you make a different noise when you have a question?”

  One knock. Scratch.

  “The first way-finder to stumble upon a way can claim it,” Rhodri said. “That means he, in effect, owns it, at least the end he located. What typically happens next is that he goes through it, up to the transition point, and tries to determine what sort of location the exit’s in. Often the other end is in solid rock. I guess now we know why. If so, the way’s useless to him. But if the end is somewhere on the surface, then he claims that end as well, and owns the whole way.