“Soldiers work is tiring and requires muscles and skill, it is true. A healer’s work, however, is tiring and requires skill, empathy, plant lore, body knowledge, and compassion. It is far more worthwhile and far less understood. Yet we seem always to turn our attention to fighting. It is a shame that we learn to hurt so much more easily than we learn to heal.”
Lydria nodded. Drae Ghern presented his opinion as a fact and not a question, but Lydria didn’t agree. Soldiering had provided for herself and her father and it was what taught her how the body works, how wounds were healed, and how she could make the body heal faster. “Surely, the two are part of the same,” she offered, explaining her reasoning. “If not for the soldier, the healer would learn little and would be less skilled for the benefit of the children and the rest of the community?” Lydria raised her voice to present her thoughts as a question so as not to offend the graetongue.
Drae Ghern was quiet as he cleaned the wounded finger stump so carefully Lydria hardly felt his work against her still-raw nerves. He chuckled quietly and applied a paste from the bowl and rewrapped her hand with a material so fine Lydria wasn’t sure what she saw was real. It was thin and light, and she was sure she would be able to see through it in daylight.
When he was finished he continued to hold her hand and stared. She stared back, searching his eyes to determine his intent. His hands were supple, yet rough. Heavy lines of age and work ran along his skin which was lighter than Haidrea’s, but far darker than the bronzed skin of his son, Wae Ilsit. Drae Ghern’s hands felt like they might tell a story of their own if they were held long enough. A story about work, building, pain, experience … life.
“Haidrea was correct, you do have two spirits in you,” he said finally, releasing her hand and adding some small sticks to the glowing coals of his fire. “What you must do, is determine which spirit you will follow.”
“Can I not choose to follow both?” Her question was not adversarial, but inquisitive. She shifted her garments and felt the stone in the pouch at her side. Taking it out she held the small sphere in front of her and stared, waiting to see what Drae Ghern might say.
The old man stared at the stone and leaned backward, extending his arm for a small sack on the floor nearby. The sack was bare of any decoration and made, Drae Ghern told her, from the pelt of an ancient beaver who dammed the river to the east of Eifynar.
“The beaver who belonged to this skin was so old, we would bring wood close to his lodge, so he didn’t have to swim far or work long to cut timber for his family. Animals, like men, need to feel useful,” he said, nodding with a small grin toward the curled bobcat breathing fast, regular breaths behind her. “By helping the beaver retain his youth with his den, he lived many long years and I’m sure he passed his stories to his family for many seasons. One day, we found him outside this very house. He had come here, a good distance from his river home, to die and repay us with all he had. This lesson we must remember as well – that our actions in life will much longer be remembered if our actions in death are for the benefit of others.”
He paused for a moment, his hands tracing the stitching along the beaver-skin bag, lightly following the patterns that held it together and feeling the old smooth skin against his old roughened skin.
“This skin has seen many seasons and built many lodges and dams. He has sired many young, told many stories, and lived nobly amongst the beings of this world. His spirit resides within this skin, for he gave it as a gift to us.” As if to punctuate the importance of the bag, he silently searched Lydria’s blue and green eyes, both of which were locked onto the bag he held.
“I give this bag now to you so that you may always remember the story of the great beaver. In it you can place what you will - pieces of your life’s story to protect you and help those who will come after you.”
Lydria blushed as she accepted the gift and placed it on her lap, laying her hand, still holding the stone, on top of it, moving the stone between her fingers, searching its bright silver lines.
“The stone you carry is unlike any stone I have seen in all my years,” Drae Ghern said. “Haidrea must have sensed this too as she chose not to include in her story how you came by it. How this stone is special, however, is hidden from me. Together, perhaps, we can determine if the spirit it carries is light or dark.”
To prove Drae Ghern correct, Lydria pulled back her hair and lifted her chin, showing Drae Ghern clearly the band of blue skin that encircled her neck. “Soon after I touched the stone, this appeared, as it did with Wynter, and I believe with this bobcat as well.” She took the stone and touched it to her neck, expecting the clicking sound of stone on stone, and surprised when she heard not only the noise, but also saw a light that penetrated the shadows of Drae Ghern’s house with a pale blue light. Touching her neck with her fingers, however, the blue collar felt as supple as her own skin, and no joint could be felt between skin and collar.
Drae Ghern thanked Lydria for showing him both the stone and her collar, and then moved quickly to his feet with a nimbleness that startled both Lydria and the cub, trotting up the stairs to his sleeping area and returning seconds later with another bag, slightly larger than the one Lydria held, and darkened with age and weather. It was decorated with a delicate inlay of silver and gold in the shapes of leaves and trees. Drae Ghern gently shook the bag to indicate something inside and the noise was enough to perk the interest of the cat who moved to the side of Lydria nearest the fire. His paws were to his front and his eyes locked onto the old man’s.
“May I hold the stone?”
Lydria offered him the stone without hesitation and Drae Ghern held it carefully as if it might break, turning it over and singing his chant once more. This time there was more inflection and occasionally a high note would escape as he lifted his head to the rafters which were thick with hanging herbs and vegetables. His singing rose and fell for long minutes before he suddenly stopped and locked eyes with Lydria once more. Not taking his gaze from her, his lined hands felt along the stone as if searching for a crease and stopped, his eyebrows arching sharply. Placing the stone on the ground, he stood again and busied himself looking through several baskets and bundles and then built the fire higher and hotter, placing upon it succulent plants and leaves that gave off a thick, pungent smoke.
Returning to his bench he quickly picked up his chant again, opening his bag with deliberate care, retrieving a thin bone pipe and packing it with a weed from a special pouch before turning to the fire and lighting the pipe with a glowing stick. He sucked in his leathered cheeks until they seemed to touch and blew out the resulting smoke in a series of short wisps, murmuring a word or phrase with each release. Finally, he took in the smoke once more and picking up the stone he pressed his lips to the curved face and blew. A thin stream of smoke, barely visible as a haze in the firelight, flowed over the stone and engulfed it for a moment in a sphere of grey before continuing.
“Your stone has stories of its own,” Drae Ghern said. “Take in the smoke and let it fill your body. Let us see what the smoke tells us about your stories and your path.”
Lydria took the pipe and hesitated, never taking her eyes from the old man. Drae Ghern laughed and patted the woman’s knee. “You do not know much about me. I am sorry,” he said. “I am a graetongue, that is I speak with and for the earth on behalf of the Eifen. There are among the Eifen those who can keenly sense the world around him in a way that goes unnoticed by all others. That person becomes the voice of the earth, the graetongue. I have felt the earth’s sorrows and joys all my life; she tells me when her rivers will overflow, when the time is right to plant crops, which trees can be used for homes or fires, and much more besides. To me, it is obvious, but to everyone else, what the earth says goes largely unnoticed.”
“Are women not graetongues, then? You said, a child could sense the world around him.” Lydria didn’t want to offend Drae Ghern, but she was tired and wanted him to keep talking. She thought the question might entice him
to tell her more about the Eifen.
“As far as I know, only men have been graetongues.” Drae Ghern smiled appreciatively and looked hard at her eyes before continuing. “There is, however, The Haustis, who is always a woman, and it is said she possesses a connection with Eigrae that is to the graetongue what the graetongue is to the rest of the Eifen. But there is only one, and she does not make her home with her people. She is betrothed to Eigrae.”
Seeing sadness in the old man’s eyes, Lydria didn’t press the issue, and instead picked up the pipe and mimicking Drae Ghern, sucked her cheeks together and inhaled deeply, pausing shortly before coughing it all out again, eliciting a laugh from the graetongue. “Draw from the pipe more slowly and let the smoke live for a time in your mouth. When the smoke has accepted you, swallow it, so it becomes part of you. It will take some time, be patient and let the spirits come to you to tell their stories.”
Lydria drew deeply and held the smoke in her mouth and immediately tasted flavors of fruit and earthy loam. It wasn’t disagreeable, but she was glad when she heard Drae Ghern tell her to swallow the smoke and let it settle inside her. His rough hands lifted hers again with the pipe to her mouth to repeat the process. After several breaths, Lydria was becoming used to the smoke and its taste became more pleasant. It was like nature, rich with grass and tree and soil. As the power of the smoke took hold, Drae Ghern brought out a set of tiles, crafted of bone and carved into different shapes with ebony inlay. He selected several of the tiles at random and placed them in front of Lydria and himself. He sang all the while, not stopping until the last tile was placed. Then, his chant became slower as he turned each tile over, sometimes switching a tile with one he had not turned before continuing until all the tiles reflected the light of the fire from their black inscriptions.
Lydria closed her eyes and felt warm inside from the smoke and her skin warmed as the embers in the fireplace began to lick up around the sticks and small pieces of wood. She felt each individual bead of sweat burst forth from her skin leaving a trail in the dirt that still covered her as it made its way down her body. She felt as if she was seeing all this from a position outside and above her sitting body. The graetongue, the sleeping area, the fire, the bobcat, – all floated beneath her in a pleasant drift and she was beginning to enjoy the experience when she heard the word ‘kimi’ in her dream.
The bobcat pressed himself up and arched his back to stretch before curling again on her lap. A voice interrupted her pleasant drift across the house, but Lydria didn’t hear it with her ears. It was part of her, entering her directly like the rumble of thunder, filling her entirely.
“You and I have been chosen and are marked by the collars we wear. Through the stone, I can speak with you, through the stone we are bonded.”
It was unlike any dream she had ever experienced. Lydria continued to drift above the room. She could see and hear Drae Ghern chanting. She watched as the old man helped her raise her hands and she felt the pipe being pressed to her lips, and she welcomed the smoke, letting it envelope her like a warm bath.
The dream shifted from the lodge to the far north where forests grew tall, narrow, and sparse. She watched a man bathed in blue light walk among the trees. He carried a stick and a wore a blue collar like her.
“You must find him,” said a different voice, a more ethereal, whispering voice. “His soul is corrupted. The stone enhances the essence of those who are bonded to it so that the light and darkness within each wielder is magnified and made purposeful.”
“How?” Lydria asked the dream voice, but she was met with silence and opened her eyes to a dark room.
“Welcome back,” said Drae Ghern, handing her a skin of water and a bowl of fruit, making no move to relight the cold fireplace. “You were gone long – longer ever than I have watched someone travel. What the spirits have shown is for you alone, unless you would share it.”
“Should I?”
“No one other than you can answer that. But if you do, I will use the wisdom of my years to provide what counsel I may. However, you may not like it. If you do not want counsel, then keep what you have learned to yourself and trust your own counsel. It is often the wisest choice.”
Quickly, fearing she might forget some important detail, Lydria told him what she remembered from the feeling of looking down on the room to the voice of the bobcat, to a second voice, and the man in the north.
Drae Ghern was silent and Lydria could not judge his expression in the dark but finally, his voice reached her as a wisp of wind close to her face before reaching her ears. She smelled upon him the odor of the very old and dying and felt sorry for the man and his people.
“The voice named you wielder, one who carries. Perhaps this refers to the stone which you carry, or the blue ring you wear on your neck. It is encouraging. Dream voices, when they speak, do not always speak as friends,” he explained. “Kimi, I believe, is the cat, and it is a good name, for it is an old word for a secret. I believe your furry companion has a secret … or maybe he has shared his secret with you already?” Drae Ghern smiled like a grandfather who has shown a youngster an old trick for the first time. They both knew he was correct and that, however impossible it seemed, the cat had talked to her in the dream.
“As for the rest of your dream, I would advise caution and strength. You must find this man Wynter and retrieve his stone. When spirits talk of evil and darkness, it is best to listen. At the same time, dream voices often speak in riddles, and we cannot so easily accept the words they say. We must each use our power, whatever it may be, to the benefit of that light which guides us.”
Lydria struggled with the questions racing through her mind, finally making her decision. “Drae Ghern, what did you see when you touched the stone? Did your world slow and turn blue?”
“I saw many things, as is the way when I seek the spirits’ help, but the colors were those we see outside and around us, and things moved too fast, like they do in life. I also saw the Haustis, and you should seek her counsel as you prepare to meet Wynter again.”
“Who is the Haustis and where can I find her?”
“There are many stories that follow the name of the Haustis. Some say she is older than all the Eifen; others say she can fly; some few believe her to be a legend, a tale to help us discover for ourselves what we need.” Drae Ghern paused as if deciding if he should tell a great secret and looked for a long time at Kimi, whose ears perked up when he sensed the old man’s eyes lingering upon him and yawned to show his teeth and pink tongue. “Haustis is no spirit or legend. How she comes by her great age, if indeed she is ancient, none may know. The Eifen live longer than the men of your kingdom, but if stories can be believed, she has eclipsed all the Eifen and has walked the land for generations. As to where she lives, I do not know. It is said the wisdom of the Haustis finds you.”
Lydria was exhausted and now she was apprehensive as well. Meeting Wynter was bad; having to search for him and take his stone, having to find a legendary figure who has no home – these were not things Lydria had considered as she made her way to Steven’s Folly.
If she found Wynter, what was she to do? Kill him? Lydria didn’t think Drae Ghern would answer that question. She lowered her hands to steady herself in the darkness and felt the cool roundness of the stone against her palm. She wondered if Drae Ghern would relight the fire. Light would help her make sense of everything. As Wae Ilsit had said, the light helped to cleanse. She closed her eyes before rising, thinking perhaps her motion would encourage Drae Ghern to relight his fire.
“There it is.” It was the dream voice again, the one she had heard first, and its suddenness caused Lydria to open her eyes and instantly shut them again as they instinctively adjusted to the bright light of the fireplace. She dropped to one knee, nausea threatening to overcome her and outside she could hear startled voices reacting to the sudden bright shaft of light coming through the small windows of Drae Ghern’s home. The fire burned like daylight but without smoke and, it appea
red, without wood. Drae Ghern smiled at her and repacked his bag. Kimi, all signs of tiredness gone, put his front paws on her bent knee and licked her nose. “Your stone will help you reach for the light.”
Lydria stared at the cat and wondered if the dream voice really could be coming from the bobcat, and no sooner did she think it then the voice responded, “Of course. I told you we were bonded by the stone.”
Lydria felt weak in her stomach and her head throbbed with pain. Trying to look at Kimi, she realized she was slumping.
“Wielder, wake up.” Kimi’s tongue persistently licked Lydria’s nose and face until she moved her head and held out her hand for him to stop. When she rose, the cat was sitting between her and the graetongue, the fire had died down to its normal state with several pieces of new wood being licked by the orange flames. Drae Ghern called for Haidrea who entered at once, as if she were waiting on the doorstep.
“Come, Haidrea, sit with us, we have much to discuss.”
SEVEN
Drae Ghern made a bed of blankets and furs for Lydria a few paces away from the fire. “Lie down and rest peacefully, wielder. You have had a long day. You will make history as one of the few among the kingdom to have their story become part of the Eifen history. Sleep, while my granddaughter and I discuss your vision and what the coming of the stone and Wynter could mean for our people.”
Lydria dragged herself to the makeshift bed and thanked Drae Ghern. She didn’t think she’d be able to sleep despite being bone tired. Every muscle ached, and her body cried out to be prone among the soft furs, but she was nervous and curious. She put her head on the bag Drae Ghern had given her and watched the fire. The flames snapped peacefully as the aromatic herbs Drae Ghern added made the house thick with the smells of jasmine and wildflowers.
Magic's Genesis- The Grey Page 6
