“I have decided not to comply with the High Council’s orders that you should raise the Healer’s offspring,” he said.
“What?” You cannot do that! “You cannot go against the orders of the High Council! The offspring belongs to me. I claimed it, and you have no authority to set my claim aside!” she said, sitting up abruptly.
Khon’Tor raised his eyebrows at her as if in disbelief. He had perfected a countenance of smug disdain.
“Do I not? What if I told them the offspring you were carrying was not mine? That you had confessed it to be that of another male? Do you think they would find you fit to raise the Healer’s offspring after that?” he taunted her, the sneering smile on his face revealing his long, white canines.
Hakani drew back and slapped Khon’Tor hard, right across the face, then lunged at him, landing across his chest and digging her nails as hard as she could into his neck, then pummeling him with her fists. She tried to bite him, anywhere, trying to inflict any wound she could.
The Leader caught her fists up easily enough and freed himself of her with one powerful shrug, flipping her over and landing her on the sleeping mat a few inches away. The resounding thud indicated that the impact had knocked the wind out of her. With one hand, he pinned and held her there. His other hand went instinctively to the blood dripping from his neck.
He rubbed the warm blood between his fingers, looking over at her, held prisoner beneath his other hand. No matter about the scratches, he had gotten the reaction—and excuse—he wanted.
He shook his head slowly back and forth and said, “Oh, Hakani. You really should not have done that.”
After he saw she had recovered, he released his hold on her, and she came at him again with the same result; he just as easily flipped her off and pinned her against the mat.
He chuckled at her, fuming but powerless against him. Oh, how I wish I had started this with her long ago.
Seeing Hakani was exhausted and probably not capable of another attack, he started moving purposefully, menacingly toward her, never taking his eyes off hers, which grew in alarm the closer he came. He grabbed her ankles and dragged her toward him as he crawled forward over her, letting his weight rest on her just enough to pin her in the way he wanted. He could smell his lust for her and knew she could too. He moved slowly, hoping she would recover enough to try another attack.
“Is that all you have Hakani? Have I won so easily?” he goaded her. “So be it. But I think you will find—inventive—is the word perhaps, all the pleasures I have planned for you tonight,” he smiled.
It was one of the longest and worst nights of Hakani’s life, and one of the longest and best of Khon’Tor’s.
* * *
The next morning, Khon’Tor was still there. Hakani awoke but stayed curled up on her side pretending she had not. She was trying to forget everything from the night before. She was right that Khon’Tor did not mean to cause her injury. But she had learned an important fact—one can inflict a fair amount of pain without inflicting injury.
Hakani wondered what had happened to Khon’Tor. She could not believe this monster was the Leader and her mate. Has he always been like this, she wondered, with these appetites? Or is this an aberration caused by what I put him through over the Waschini offspring? Whatever the reason, she did not believe she could bear even one more night like that.
“Hakani, I know you are awake,” he said. “Best sit up and listen to me before I go. You may not leave the quarters today. But just so you have something to look forward to, I will be back tonight. And the next night. And the next night, and the night after that. I want to make the most of our time together before Adia’s offspring is turned over to you.”
Hakani heard him say that she would be getting the offspring. Was he being cruel the night before? Was it just part of some game to torture her and make her suffer mentally before he made her suffer physically?
She did not have answers to any of those questions. And she wanted to ask why she could not leave the quarters today, but she dared not. Hakani looked up and nodded so Khon’Tor could see she had heard him, and she prayed he would leave so she could tend to her bruised and aching body.
“You can spend your time making plans for where the offspring will sleep and be tended to. But after you have the offspring here, do not forget that you are not absolved of your obligation to provide me an heir,” he finished.
Khon’Tor left and at the end of the hallway gave the guard instructions that Hakani was not allowed to leave, that no one other than he was allowed in, and that he would be back later.
* * *
The next morning, Acaraho introduced Urilla Wuti to Adia and Nadiwani. Urilla Wuti seemed quiet, not very talkative. As a fellow Healer, Adia wondered what the older female thought of her situation. She wondered if Urilla Wuti thought less of her. She did not want to care, but she could not help but feel somewhat ashamed.
Only a few knew her being with offspring was not of her choosing, and that it was not her fault. Khon’Tor had done wonders in presenting it to their people, and she did not feel judgment from them, though she knew there was still an element of shock. But Urilla Wuti did not have the benefit of Khon’Tor’s eloquent discourse and his call for forbearance and forgiveness. She only knew what the High Council had told her.
Adia could not help herself. If this female was going to be her nursemaid during all the time leading up to her delivery, she wanted to know the Healer did not look down on her. For some reason, Adia was drawn to this female and wanted to be like by her. The Healer network was small, and relationships between Healers were cherished.
Urilla Wuti, Adia, and Nadiwani compared notes over the next few days. Adia had no complaints other than those experienced by every female. All seemed to be going smoothly, except that she was putting on a bit more weight than might be expected.
Adia was determined to make the other Healer like her, or at least allow the Healer to get to know her enough to give it a fair chance. She tried to strike up conversations, asking mundane questions about where she lived, how she had become a Healer—anything that occurred to her.
Urilla Wuti put up with it for a little while, but after a few days of it, could no longer cope with the chatter any longer. She was a female of few words and preferred to be subjected to as few words as possible in return.
One afternoon, while Adia was trying to draw Urilla Wuti into conversation, the visiting Healer suddenly put down what she was working on and walked up to Adia, took her by the hand, and led her over to the seating area where she motioned for her to sit down.
Adia sat down and Urilla Wuti sat down next to her.
Urilla Wuti took both of Adia’s hands in hers and rested them on the stone bench.
“You have questions.”
“Yes,” replied Adia, swallowing hard.
“Are you willing to have your questions answered, even if the way I answer them may not be conventional?”
“Yes, of course,” Adia frowned.
“Are you willing to trade your secrets for mine?”
By now, Adia was becoming a little confused.
“I trust you, Urilla Wuti, if that is what you are asking.”
Urilla Wuti nodded, and still holding Adia’s hands, looked into her eyes. Within a few seconds, Adia felt as if a window opened—one that had always been there but that she had never noticed before.
The older Healer closed the link almost immediately, and Adia’s eyes widened with amazement.
“What just happened? What did you do?”
“I opened a Connection with you. It is a deep secret known only by a few Healers and a small select number of Leaders. Would you be willing to experience it further? Again, I must warn you; the Connection is a conduit between two souls. There are few secrets in the Connection.”
Adia thought a moment. I have nothing to hide. I am what I am, imperfect but dedicated to my calling and my community.
“Yes. Yes. Please,” she finally said.
Uri
lla Wuti closed her eyes and opened another Connection, this time leaving it open longer than a second or two.
At that moment, time dropped out of existence, and the space separating the two females disappeared. Urilla Wuti became Adia, and Adia became Urilla Wuti. The consciousness of each Healer swirled and mixed with that of the other until there was only one. After a few moments, the process reversed, and they slowly separated. Each came back to her place on the seat and her separate existence.
Adia had never known such an experience was possible; though she had some unique abilities, she had experienced nothing like this. In the brief exchange, Adia had seen into the heart of Urilla Wuti and knew there was no judgment of her there. It had only taken a few moments, but in that brief time, Adia had also experienced the most traumatic and most uplifting moments of Urilla Wuti’s life.
Adia wondered if Urilla Wuti had been born with this ability, or had learned it, and the moment she asked herself the question she knew the answer. And if Urilla Wuti had learned how to do this, perhaps she could too.
Adia knew all the moments of Urilla Wuti’s life—those that had shaped her, encouraged her, and those that had almost broken her. She knew about those closest to her—most important to her. She knew her abject grief at her brother’s passing, probably the closest person to her, and her pain that she was not able to save his life. She experienced Urilla Wuti’s great joy when her brother’s offspring was delivered after he had passed, and the happiness the young female brought to her life. Adia did not only know of these events; she experienced them just as Urilla Wuti had.
In return, Urilla Wuti now knew about significant, emotionally charged events that had shaped Adia. She knew how deeply Adia loved her father, and how much she still missed him to that day. Urilla Wuti now knew that Adia had feelings for Acaraho, the High Protector of the People, and how wonderful it felt to be carried in his arms; the sense that nothing could ever harm her as long as he was around. And Urilla Wuti lived it as if she were on the path clutching the locket she had retrieved from the Healer’s Cove. She felt Adia’s confusion at running into Khon’Tor, the fever in her body, the impact of Khon’Tor’s first blow, of being knocked down to the hard ground. And through the fog, she felt his crushing weight on her and the piercing pain just before she passed out. Urilla Wuti had learned as much about Adia as Adia had learned about Urilla Wuti.
The two females sat looking at each other, still holding each other’s hands. There was nothing to be said. Adia wondered if this was why Urilla Wuti hardly ever spoke. If she was capable of this type of Connection, might she also sense what was going on in each person she encountered without the need for words? After what Adia had just experienced, speech seemed an archaic, clumsy means of communication.
Adia wondered what would happen if the Connection continued for longer. Urilla Wuti had broken it off; Adia would not have been able to because knowing another person like that—experiencing them at their core through their own eyes and own emotions—was intoxicating. While she was connected to Urilla Wuti, she was not a single entity. She was one, and more than one.
Perhaps that is what it is like to return to the Mother—only instead of merging with one other person it would be like being immersed in a sea of others, separate yet not separate, still you, but at the same time everyone else, thought Adia.
* * *
Urilla Wuti had her reasons for connecting with Adia. This was not an experience she shared with many. Only a handful knew she had this ability—the Healer who taught her this, her own Helper, her brother before he had passed, the Leader of her people, a small network of other Helpers—and now Adia.
When Urilla Wuti was a Healer’s Helper, she had been taught by her Healer how to establish the Connection, just as her Healer had been taught it. Not everyone could develop the gift, and it took years to perfect—to learn how to control the depth and duration of the flow. Adia was renowned throughout the People, and knowing this, Urilla Wuti had suspected that Adia was able to connect to the Mother in ways most Healers were not able to do. She also realized Adia probably did not understand how gifted she was.
This was why, when she was told by her Leader of the need for a Healer urgently to visit the People of the High Rocks, Urilla Wuti knew it was the opportunity she had been asking for. And the minute she met Adia, Urilla Wuti knew her thoughts had been correct, and the younger Healer had this same gift.
Had she maintained the Connection with Adia longer, the transfer would have been deeper, more detailed, more intimate. But Urilla Wuti let it stream only long enough for Adia to experience the exchange of the most significant experiences in each of their lives. She could have taken Adia to a deeper level, but it would have been too invasive. Only with permission and over a significant time would Urilla Wuti connect with another at a deeper level. Once connected so deeply, the two joined were always just a thought away from being in contact, and information could pass instantaneously from one to the other. But not everyone could go to this deepest level of connection. From her experience, they could only go with someone equally gifted.
Urilla Wuti knew the Age of Wrak-Ayya lay ahead. Over the past several years, she had realized part of her life mission was to create a network of connected Healers. Wrak-Ayya presented the greatest ever threat to the People’s existence since the Age of Darkness, and when it came, the People everywhere would have to share information about its challenges, and very quickly. The People could not afford to learn through trial and error within their separate communities; they would have to learn from each other simultaneously. And those lessons would have to be communicated far faster across long distances than was currently possible. Travel took too much time, especially to the outlying communities, and it also put the People at risk of discovery by the Waschini.
They would also have to deal with enormous change, and she knew the People were slow to adapt. However, of all the Sasquatch, including the giants only rumored to exist, the People were the most adaptable. And without adaptation to the coming changes, none of the Sasquatch had any hope of surviving.
Urilla Wuti feared that her people underestimated Wrak-Ayya.
* * *
Adia sat, still looking at Urilla Wuti who squeezed her hands and said, “We have much to talk about.” Then the older Healer got up and added, “I am going to my quarters for a while. Would you be able to join me there later this evening? Will you have the energy?”
Adia said she would be there. It was not far, and she knew Urilla Wuti needed to talk to her alone.
“You should also rest a while now, Adia. Rest and re-ground yourself.”
Urilla Wuti needed a little time alone. After making a Connection, it took time to process what had been assimilated. Emotions were emotions, and when those of another were experienced directly, they left a mark.
On reaching her quarters, she lay down and recalled Adia’s experiences. When she got to the night on which Khon’Tor had attacked Adia, she lived it as if it had been done to her. She felt physically sick and weak. She saw herself look up at Khon’Tor in confusion, and then the blow to her head and hitting the ground so hard. It was all there, every bit of it.
Urilla Wuti now understood the turmoil the young female was in, and also how very strong she was to bear up under the burden forced on her. Urilla Wuti knew Khon’Tor had taken her Without Her Consent and that he was the father of her offspring. And that Adia would have to give up her offspring to a female who hated her.
She also knew Adia was in love with Acaraho.
As a Healer, there is not much more that can go wrong for Adia, thought Urilla Wuti.
* * *
The afternoon dragged on and on. Adia fussed with arranging and rearranging her worktable. Finally, she was on her way. As she passed First Guard Awan he followed her, as were his orders. She paid him no mind knowing it was Acaraho’s doing. It was just as well because, though it was not far to the older Healer’s Quarters, she was still feeling a little dizziness off and on.
When she entered, Urilla Wuti did not rise but motioned to Adia to sit next to her. Adia wondered if Urilla Wuti was going to make another Connection. She did not. Instead, she said, “I know you have many questions. And I want to answer them all, but it will take some time.
“Let me start at the beginning. What I shared with you is called the Connection. It is a derivative of what we experience when we return to the Great Spirit. As Healers, we often refer to the Great Spirit as the Great Mother, in honor of our special connection with the feminine aspect of love. When we return to the Mother, we are all connected yet separate. Your experiences become mine, and mine become yours, and on and on. That way, we all experience every aspect of life in every possible form and manifestation. The love we show others comes back to us, as does the pain we inflict. Somehow, we remain us, but at the same time we are everyone.” Before she continued, she paused to see if Adia understood.
“In the Connection I opened with you I took you to the second level. There are many levels deeper. The deeper you go, the greater the Connection, and the more the one person becomes the other. What of my life did you experience when we merged?”
Adia answered, “I felt the love you had for your family. I felt the closeness between my brother and me—I mean your brother and you. I lived your grief at your brother’s passing; the joy your brother’s offspring brings you. Those were the experiences that stood out the clearest.”
Urilla Wuti nodded. “The deeper we connected, the more intensely you would feel those experiences. Depending on how much trauma the other person has endured, if you connect too deeply before you are prepared, you may damage yourself severely. No matter how difficult, our experiences come to us because we are ready for them, at a time when we are finally strong enough to endure them. Another person who is not walking that path may be permanently overcome with the depth of the pain and suffering of another because it was not their path to walk. They were not prepared by life to go through those experiences, but the experiences were forced on them through the Connection,” she continued.
The Healer’s Mantle Page 16
