by CJ Arroway
Aldrwyn’s grin had gone now, replaced by wide eyes and a lowered lip. ‘But I told you, Nan. I got it just like you asked. It was really dangerous – guards everywhere, really stressful. Then I was on my way back to you and I thought I’d have a drink to settle my nerves, and this girl–’
‘What – this girl?’ Nan gestured to her right as a short, strikingly pretty, dark haired woman stepped from behind the front row of onlookers.
‘Hi Aldrwyn,’ she smiled, sheepishly waving at him. ‘Sorry about all that.’
The room burst into laughter as Aldrwyn looked around, at first bewildered and then reddening in the face.
‘Oh, I’m sorry Aldrwyn,’ Nan wheezed, barely able to speak for laughing. ‘I couldn’t resist.’
She was nearly doubled over now, propping herself up on the side of one of the long heavy tables that lined the centre of the hall. She turned to Evie and Luda who were looking at each other as if to see if either knew what had just gone on.
‘Aldrwyn is a lovely boy, but I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could throw a cow over Farn mountain. Not with money anyway,’ she said, dabbing at her eyes with the corner of her wide sleeves. ‘I know he would have meant to bring the scroll back to us, but it was worth a lot and, well – it’s Aldrwyn.’
Aldrwyn looked genuinely hurt.
She put her arm on the shoulder of the pretty girl. ‘Jinny here managed to get Aldrwyn to, let’s say, drop his guard and then made sure the scroll came back to us safe and sound. Just a little insurance for us.’
‘It was lovely working with you, Aldrwyn,’ Jinny smiled, and Aldrwyn went even redder than he had before.
The evening opened up into the fire and feast that Aldrwyn had promised. Guests were sacred to the Cyl, and two of the fattest sheep had been slaughtered and the seal broken on a new barrel of nettle ale. Evie and Luda were deep in conversation with two of the men who had stopped them on the mountain, while Aldrwyn and Nan Tabyn talked quietly on a double seat close to the central hearth.
Nan would slap Aldrwyn’s leg and laugh every once in a while, while he still looked a little flustered, suggesting to Evie that Nan had not quite finished her teasing.
Evie saw Aldrwyn throw a subtle, subdued glance in the direction of Jinny as she sat next to a dark-browed, handsome warrior whose beard she playfully tweaked as they drank and laughed together. She smiled to herself.
Nan slapped Aldrwyn’s leg one last time and stood up stiffly to fill her tankard with more ale, then walked over to Evie and Luda. The two men excused themselves as Nan sat down next to Evie.
‘So Aldrwyn tells me you are Daw? Magic kin.’
Evie nodded. ‘Yes – we’re Daw.’
‘A long way from home then? Well we all are in our own way – but a long way from where you live.’
‘Yes,’ Evie replied, unsure exactly what Nan had meant but keen to be friendly. ‘I don’t know if Aldrwyn told you but we were attacked, and my mother was taken. I’m trying to find her.’
‘Find her here?’ Nan said, surprised.
‘No, no,’ Evie quickly explained. ‘She was taken by the Sea People and I was trying to get help in Wyrra when they attacked The Home so we had to run, and Aldrwyn helped us get here.’
‘Yes,’ Nan said, suddenly solemn. ‘Aldrwyn mentioned the Sea People. As much as I lose no tears over People falling, the Sea People are…’ She hesitated as if she could find no word strong enough to express her meaning.
‘They hate us… magic kin, too?’ Evie asked.
‘Passionately,’ Nan’s face darkened. ‘The People treat us as if we are less than them, and they have killed enough of us in war and raids. But the Sea People…’ She closed her eyes and Evie saw the corner of her thin mouth curl, as if in a snarl. ‘The Sea People butchered us – every one. No war, no battle, just cold murder. The Dirans, the Fawl, The Sa Fawl – whole tribes wiped out. Men, women and children, until there was no trace of their line left on this earth.’
Evie and Luda were silent. Luda clenched his jaw so that the muscles of his thin face flexed in and out in time to the increasing beat of his heart.
‘Do you think that is why they are looking for me? To kill me? Because I’m magic?’
‘Looking for you?’ The creases of Nan’s time-worn face deepened further. Luda turned his, open-mouthed, to Evie.
‘Sorry Luda,’ she said, ‘I should have said something – I didn’t want to scare you. When they came – when they chased us in the forest – those people, I don’t think they just found us by chance; I think they were looking for me. A man, a hunter, caught me and told me he was taking me to them. To the Sea People. I don’t know why – but he said they wanted me. They sent him for me, and I only just got away.’
‘You have magic then I assume?’ Nan asked. Evie thought from her expression that she could almost hear her mind working.
‘Yes. I have the curse but so do–’
‘It is not a curse!’ Nan slapped her hand on the hard table top and Evie jumped back. Nan checked herself to rest her hand on Evie’s apologetically. She spoke more softly. ‘It’s not a curse – it’s a gift. I’m sorry they made you think that way. I’m sorry I snapped.’
She flicked a sideways glance at Luda, leaning back in his chair with his arms folded.
Evie sat up straighter. ‘My magic, then. But it’s nothing special. I don’t know who, but I know others in the village must have it too.’
She stopped herself suddenly. ‘Maybe that’s who they took? No, mum isn’t magic – that I am absolutely sure of. I can’t explain it.’ She buried her face in her hand to stifle the headache she could feel rushing on.
Nan lowered her head to try to catch Evie’s eye. ‘The Sea People fear and despise magic. They say their lands were destroyed by spellsingers, it is an ancient hatred. Perhaps they’ve brought that murderous hate to The Home? Your village would be known as home to magic kin.’
Luda had stayed silent but now spoke in a wavering voice. ‘You could have told me. I wouldn’t have left you. I’m your friend – you could have told me. Don’t you trust me?’
Evie stood up suddenly. ‘I’m really sorry, I think I’ve had too much nettle ale – my head hurts. Please excuse me, I’ll see you in the morning.’ She slipped awkwardly between two seated men behind them, raising a hand in apology for stepping on a foot, and turned out through the dark of the door.
Luda and Nan looked at each other in silence for a moment.
‘Your friend will need you – go after her. But please, don’t be hard on her, she seems confused.’
Luda nodded contritely. ‘Yeah, I know. She’s lost her mum, I shouldn’t expect… I’ll give her some space and talk to her in the morning.’
Luda thanked Nan for the feast and waved across to Aldrwyn, who was now talking with Jinny and the Cyl men at the end of the far table. Aldrwyn nodded back and raised his tankard in acknowledgement.
‘Thanks for letting us stay here,’ Luda said to Nan. ‘It’s good to be somewhere we feel welcome.’
Nan smiled. ‘Magic kin are always welcome here. We are family – don’t ever forget that.’
‘I won’t,’ Luda said. He stood to drop in his head in thanks and headed for the door, stopping to check directions from a squat guard who was minding the exit.
Nan sat up straight and stretched her neck to each side before shaking her head. She walked back to her chair near the fire, stopping to pick at the lamb meat that still stuck to the bones on the fire’s spit.
‘Now why would they want her?’ She said to herself quietly. ‘Why on earth would they want some little Daw girl?’
The Guardian
Nan Tabyn was old, even for a Cyl elder. No one was sure quite how old, but some of the younger Cyl would joke that she must have been around when the Lost Lands were taken, and that was why she hated The People so much.
She was also the closest thing the Cyl had to a leader. Decisions rarely had to be taken among them – the cattle always fed at th
e same place, the sheep were always brought down from the high mountains at the same time of year. Little changed and little needed discussion.
Only when war threatened, or it was time to run a raid, did they need a decision – and when they did it was usually Nan who made that call, unless one of the other elders disagreed. In which case there would be a debate. All sides of the argument would be aired and considered, and then at the end Nan would still usually make the decision.
Her time was spent instead in study. The Cyl, like most magic kin, had a long tradition of learning. Most Cyl could read, Nan was always quick to remind anyone from The Home. But even those in the richest families of The People rarely had an understanding of letters, unless they had been destined for a career at court, the Temple or the Treasury.
And her passion was for the study of magic. She saw the Cyl, and particularly herself, as the guardians of magic lore and history. For Nan, the magic kin were one people – no Daw, no Nix, no Duvrans, just one magic kin. She guarded their history, and she would guard anyone who shared the gift as if they were her own family.
The scroll she had asked Aldrwyn to steal was now safely stored in the library: a huge underground space carved over centuries out of the rock beneath the great hall in Brya, filled from floor to ceiling with the collected works of ages. The books and scrolls were chained in place and only through Nan could you access its knowledge.
Occasionally a traveller, magic kin, would come to Cyl drawn by tales of Nan’s knowledge and searching for answers. She had sat and studied with students from the farthest known reaches of the world – even further than the distant ports that the spice traders called the End of the Earth.
That is how Aldrwyn had come to know her, and how she had learned for the first time of his kin – the Nix – who loved music and water and hated thieves. Her joy at learning of a new part of her family made her particularly fond of Aldrwyn, even if she did not fully trust him, and even if she had a hard sense of humour when it came to teasing him.
But of all the kin who had come to Brya, Evie intrigued her more than most. She was troubled by the news that the Sea People had been looking for her. And she sensed there was more than she was telling, and she needed to know.
‘This is the oldest part of the library,’ Nan said as she pulled back a wooden screen that separated out a narrow row of shelves. Evie stared wide-eyed at the ancient vellum scrolls that were rolled up, three to a broad shelf to give the air room to circulate around them. Bundles of dried flowers and mosses were tied to the ceiling above – to keep the air dry, Nan told her.
‘How old are they?’ Evie asked.
‘The oldest? Since well before The People came. Maybe 800 years old for this one.’ She pointed a thin finger at a yellowing parchment that was tied much more loosely than the others. Evie assumed it must be too fragile to roll.
‘What’s it about?’
‘Oh, very dull. It’s mostly accounting – stock checking for some Duvran traders. Just because something is old doesn’t make it interesting, unless you are talking about me.’ She winked at Evie, who chuckled.
‘So what’s the most interesting then?’ Evie said brightly.
‘Hmm – that’s a very good question. I don’t know if I can pick a favourite, there are so many. There’s some lore from a very illusive tribe that used to live in Myria – spell songs for a better harvest and for the health of children. They don’t actually work, but they are beautifully written and very rare.
‘Oh now, there’s the Book of Daw – that would interest you.’.’
Evie sat up excitedly. She wasn’t aware of much Daw history, other than the knowledge her mother had to share – let alone that any of it was written down. ‘Can you show me?’
‘Of course!’ Nan closed the screen to reach over and take a book from one of the bigger shelves in the main library. It was a small book, the binding creased and brittle with turning. Nan made her wear soft gloves of kid skin to turn the pages.
‘Now, it’s a very rare book, but the themes are well known to serious students of magic. The Daw – well you know, of course – they don’t embrace their gift. This would have been a highly seditious book, and well hidden to survive long enough to come into my collection.’
‘What kind of themes?’ Evie asked.
‘Oh, a little of your lore – your people have a strong connection with nature, or course – when you allow it. And empathy. There are some, it says, that have the power to share feelings, memories, emotion; to experience the understanding of others. That has always fascinated me, it’s quite unique among any of the kin.
‘And then there’s a section on your exile – though it is quite vague. It just says that you arrived in The Home from Myria in the days of King Oesyr the Mad, which is about 350 years ago according to the Calendar of Tears. But this is a book written a little while after that. I know for sure that there were Daw in Myria and perhaps other places long before that. Your history goes back to the time before writing – the dark times where the lost tribes hide.’
‘This is amazing Nan – thank you so much. I will read this.’ Evie reached out a gloved hand to gently hold Nan’s arm.
‘That is wonderful Evie. And if you have any questions about magic – anything at all – then ask me.’
Nan softly held Evie’s hand in place then moved away to tidy the books where they had slid down as she removed the one she had given to Evie.
‘I did have a couple, if you don’t mind?’ Evie said, carefully closing her book and gently brushing its frayed spine with the side of her hand.
‘Of course I don’t mind, dear. It’s what I love to do best – talk about magic.’ Nan smiled and clasped her hands together in anticipation of talking magic again.
‘The first one is a bit…’ Evie paused and turned her mouth in an apologetic grimace. ‘You might not like it.’
‘Oh nonsense, I like any questions about magic,’ Nan waved away any doubts Evie was projecting.
‘Well it’s just that we – The Daw – we say magic destroys your essence, that it turns you bad. It’s what we believe; I believe, I mean I think I believe. Is that true?’
‘Hmm,’ Nan frowned. ‘Well I don’t like that idea but I am glad you asked. It will do you no harm girl, the only harm is in holding it in and denying yourself.’ Nan moved back closer to Evie, hovering briefly at her side as if to put a hand on her, before pulling back.
‘I have never understood, of all the magic kin, why the Daw hate their own gifts. There are others who hide it from outsiders for fear of prejudice, but the Daw – you hide it from yourselves. You are worse, if anything, to each other than The People are to you in that regard. The truth is, that is one of the few questions to which I don’t have an answer. Somewhere in your history you learned to hate the best part of yourselves, and I don’t know why.’
Evie nodded solemnly.
‘You had another question Evie?’ Nan prompted.
‘Oh yes – Aldrwyn told me to ask you. It seems silly – but I thought once that I could hear my father. My father is dead – I should have said that first. I thought I heard him – sort of heard him, but heard inside his head. Oh, I’m not explaining it very well.’
Nan pulled a chair out from under the table and sat down close to Evie. ‘I’m sorry to ask, has he been dead long?’
‘10 years now, a little more.’
Nan curled her mouth curiously. ‘I see. A soul can linger a while between life and death, in the borders of the Spirit World, in the moment between death and the passage of the soul. But minutes, not years. They are looking for the Gateway to the Plains of the Dead and there is no way back from there. This much is known. Are you sure it was him? Had you taken any herbs?’
‘Herbs?’ Evie shook her head. ‘What do you mean?’
‘There are herbs with special properties, we take them to visit the Spirit World. Perhaps you saw someone who looked–’
‘No. It was him. I hadn’t taken any…’ Evie
closed her eyes. ‘You know, I shouldn’t have asked.’
Nan put a hand on Evie’s forearm. ‘It’s alright. It must have been hard. Is there a chance you may have been confused, upset? I hate to ask that, but when you love someone deeply it is hard to let them go, to believe they are gone.’
‘Yes,’ Evie said, drawing in a breath and straightening her back. ‘You are right, it was a stupid question. I was in a bad state when it happened, in shock. It was my imagination. I’m sure of that now. Sorry.’
‘Oh darling, please don’t apologise. No question is stupid – I’m just sorry I couldn’t have given more help.’ Nan took Evie’s hand again in both of hers. Evie smiled weakly.
‘That’s ok – can I come back tomorrow and read through this book? I promised Luda I’d have lunch with him today and he’ll be waiting now.’
‘Of course – you are welcome down here any time. I love to see young kin like you take an interest in the old lore, it makes my heart grow.’ Nan’s smile widened and traced the creases of her weathered face.
Evie climbed back up the ladder-stairs that took her out of the cellar library and into the far end of the great hall. Seats had been set again around the central hearth. Luda, Aldrwyn and a group of Cyl women were sitting and breaking pieces off a large, flat loaf to dip into bowls they were holding under leather cloth to keep their hands from the broth’s heat.
‘That smells delicious,’ Evie said as she slipped between Luda and Aldrwyn to sit down – dipping her finger quickly into Luda’s soup to taste.
‘Oy – that’s disgusting,’ Luda said as Evie licked her finger.
‘Stop complaining.’ She smiled and rested her other hand on his shoulder. ‘At least I didn’t double-dip!’
