Chapter 3: Revelations and Flight

Book 1: Naedira

AS BEFORE FEEDBACK on this Chapter is requested! I’m interested in any thoughts any of you might have, but specifically I’d like answers to these two questions:

First, are the details of what is happening clear enough? I don’t, of course, mean “Do you understand absolutely everything that’s happening?” Is there enough detail to allow you to understand the basics of what is happening, and enough hints at what you don’t understand to pique your interest? Which leads to the second question: would reading this make you want to keep reading the next chapter of the book?

If you want to go back and re-read what has come before, here are some links that you can use; I’ve added navigation links to the other posts in this section so you can more easily navigate back here when you are done.

Prologue

Chapter 1: Naming Day

Chapter 2: The Dream

Two years passed, filled with nothing more remarkable than the simple joys and struggles of village life. I began to grow into the life of the Named, learning the skills that I would need to take my place in the adult life of Leitborm one day, as a craftswoman or a goodwife, or perhaps both, if I so chose. My mind was filled with my studies and thoughts of a future that, I know now, could never have been.

My parents and I never spoke again about the strange events of my Naming Day. I thought of it often, of course, and frequently made up my mind to confront Father, demanding that he tell me what had gone amiss, insisting that he explain why everything had played out so differently from what they had told me would happen. But I never followed through with those resolutions, and with time, eventually even the impulse to ask faded, though the questions never did.

I think ultimately I never asked because I feared that the answers would mark me as somehow different, somehow unique and thus unable to fully join in the life of our village. In those days, my deepest, most cherished ambitions centered around the hope of joining in that life. Like most girls my age, both in Leitborm and throughout the villages of my Realm, I dreamt of finding honor in a trade, and love in a good husband. Nothing else seemed to matter, though now I bitterly regret the questions I did not ask and the time I lost, time that I did not spend with my parents. If I had known how soon my time with them would end, I might have… But, no. I am telling you my story, not the story of my regrets; that tale would take far more time than we have, and would not be worth the telling.

Most girls in Leitborm married in their nineteenth or twentieth year, though they are considered women, eligible for marriage, once they turn eighteen. I was still two months short of eighteen, which meant my thoughts were continually filled with who might one day speak to Mother about gaining my hand.

For a time after my Naming Day, I had held hopes that Tel might be the one to ask for such a Promise, though by this time those hopes had all but faded to nothing. For after his brief attention to me on that day, he seemed to have again forgotten that I existed. By this time, as I approached the age of eighteen, his apprenticeship had just ended, lasting far longer than it normally should have. His father often boasted as he went around the village that Tel stayed apprentice so long because he sought to earn the status of Master, so that he could go ply his craft in a city, perhaps even in Jerumbatha, the great City of Light! Baifin whispered a different tale; she said the truth of it was that he was hopelessly clumsy, his strokes and cuts often marring the piece he crafted more than shaping it. He had been so long an apprentice, she said, because it had taken him that long to gain enough skill for Craftsman Garlorn to grant him his woodworking pin, and that only grudgingly when the time came.

Forgive me, again. I admit, I am stalling. It has been a long time since I allowed myself to remember and dwell on these days. I had such a happy life, one that was utterly torn from me once my tale begins, and now that I am on the edge of that tale’s commencement, I find myself hesitating, grasping tangents and seeking out trails of memory to explore, so that I might hold off the trouble of my life from finding me again, if even for a little while. But that is not our purpose here tonight, so I will hesitate no longer. Here is where my tale truly begins.

It was late spring, and the storms of the season were largely spent, though even a few nights before rain and high winds had battered Leitborm and the nearby forest mercilessly, felling trees and making many others lean dangerously. On this day, I found myself once again out in that forest. This was one of the joys of my life, and I spent many hours wondering those woods, ostensibly searching for herbs and roots, though in reality I simply reveled in the feeling of being surrounded by the natural splendor of the forest. Though I often wandered the largely pathless woods alone, on this day Baifin and her newly Named brother, Luth, had joined me. My friend and I had been charged with finding as many tabor roots as we could, and Luth was there to help us haul the tremendous load we expected to find back to the village.

As I recall, he was not best pleased to have been reduced to the level of pack horse, and grumbled along several paces behind us as Baifin and I chatted happily, carelessly about everything that crossed our minds. Though what crossed Baifin’s mind most often, it seemed, was the subject of marriage.

“I am sure, dear Naedira, that you will never find a husband!” she mocked gently. “You spend so much time in these woods, I would almost swear you expect to find one growing on a tree!” Her face took on a look of utter seriousness, and she leaned in closer to me conspiratorially before continuing, “You haven’t found such a tree out here, have you? A husband tree? You would tell me if you had, wouldn’t you Naedira? I would be happy to go with you to that tree, to help you find the right one to pluck. You must make certain he is ripe, though!”

I think she would have continued, but was so amused by her own wittiness that she fell to giggling at that point and was rendered speechless long enough for me to break in with, “I would let you pluck your own from that tree, if I had found it, dear Baifin, since your only other option is clearly unripe!”

She made a choking sound, as if deeply offended, though I knew better than that. “I am sure I do not know what you mean, Naedira!” she sniffed at last, her face a mask of prim outrage, spoiled only by the mirthful grin that threatened to break out on her lips. Of course we both knew that she had Promised her heart to Javin, the blacksmith’s apprentice, more than a year ago. But we could not speak openly of that yet, as Javin’s apprenticeship would not be complete until spring came again, and no one would dream of asking a mother’s Promise of marriage before their apprenticeship was completed!

She held her stern face for only a moment longer before the grin triumphed, and we both fell to laughing, clinging together to support each other in our mirth. So we were walking, almost arm in arm, when suddenly a horrific crash sounded in the forest behind us, breaking our embrace just as surely as it broke my life.

We spun around as one to find that Luth was gone. On the slope that we had just trod, a huge whitebark tree now lay. I recognized it at once. We had just walked by it and I had noted as I passed that it had been blown over, likely by that last storm; it was leaning against another more sound tree, but had seemed steady. Apparently, it had been more precariously balanced that I realized, for it had come crashing down across our path just moments after we had moved beyond it. My first thought was relief; if we had been only a few steps slower, we might have been crushed beneath its huge trunk.

Baifin was more observant than I. She saw what lay beneath that trunk, and with a desperate cry of “Luth!” began rushing back to her brother. As she moved, I saw what she had already seen: Luth’s feet barely visible beneath the tree. Walking a few paces behind us, he had been just beneath the whitebark as it fell.

We both scrambled back through the brush and tangled upper branches of the fallen tree, and it took us several minutes to come to the other side, only to find Luth hopelessly pinned beneath the massive trunk; only his head and shoulders were visible as we both fell to our knees beside him. His face was screwed up in a rictus of agony, and though it was clear that he was struggling for each breath, cries of anguish still escaped his lips, so terrible was the pain he suffered.

I saw in an instant that it was hopeless. Luth was going to die.

Baifin saw it too and began to wail, “Luth, Luth, what have I done! I am sorry, I am sorry! Why did I ask you to come with us? Oh Luth, Luth…”

Her voice continued, winding in painful circles as her panicked mind wandered almost aimlessly in her grief. But her fear was not misplaced, and I only barely managed to quell a similar panic in my own mind. The tree lay right on top of him, and was massive enough that all the men of Leitborm together might have difficulty moving it. Seeing how Luth already struggled for breath, clearly he would have suffocated long before the men could even be gathered, much less free him from his new prison, assuming he didn’t simply bleed to death first. There was nothing that two young women, alone and far from the village, could hope to do in time.

There was no help coming, and we were powerless. Luth was going to die. I reached out toward him, thinking that at least I could try to comfort him in his last moments, when suddenly I was seized by a fierce rage, boiling up from deep within my soul. Luth was an innocent boy, just Named, with his whole life ahead of him. It was wrong that he should have his life snuffed out so early, so meaninglessly. All because of a fallen tree!

This should not have happened, I thought fiercely to myself. It should not have been allowed to happen! Who might have prevented it, in that moment I could not have said, but I was seized by an overwhelming feeling of wrong. Being in the wrong place, at the wrong time when a tree fell should not be allowed to take the life of this newly Named boy!

Instead of his shoulder, my hands fell upon the tree trunk that lay crushing him. I had no clear idea of what I intended to do, nor really any idea that I even intended to do anything at all. I simply knew, to the very depths of my soul, that this should not have happened, and I wished with all of my heart for the tree to move off of Luth. A strange word bubbled up out of my mouth, though I do not remember choosing to speak at all, much less intending to speak that particular word.

And as I spoke, the trunk lifted up off the ground, as if of its own accord, sailing away to come crashing to the ground about ten spans away, further down the slope from where Luth lay beside us.

I sat back on my heels in astonishment. My mind could scarcely understand what had just happened. I had wanted the tree to move, and somehow it had obeyed my desire. My eyes fell on Luth, staring up at me with what I thought was a look of agony still etching his face, and realized the danger was not finished. He was freed, but still very badly hurt.

I started to turn to Baifin, saying, “Quickly, we have to get him home! Can we make some sort of…”

My voice trailed off as my eyes fell fully on my friend. She had moved backwards several paces and was holding her arms out stiffly before her, as if to ward off some horrible danger. Her face was deathly pale, her mouth frozen in the midst of an unsounded scream. She was clearly beside herself with terror.

The rage threatened to rise up within me again. Luth was still dying! We had no time for such foolishness! “What are you doing?” I snapped, somewhat more harshly than I had intended. “He needs our help!”

Her fingers curled into a gesture that I took no note of at the time, and she began stammering, “That… that was… it was magic! You… you did magic! You are…” She sobbed and stumbled backward another pace, and in that moment I recognized the gesture; she was making the sign to ward off evil. Making it toward me. “You are a witch!” she finished, horror and loathing filling her voice.

Preposterous, I thought angrily! We had no time for such nonsense! I stood and began, “Baifin, that is…” but I got no further.

As soon as I rose, she cried out in terror, “Get away from me! Get away! No!” as she tried to back hurriedly away. She managed only to tangle her feet in the underbrush and fell heavily on her back, cutting off her protests in a grunt of surprise. A moment later, she had bounded back to her feet, and, uttering a wordless cry of terror, bolted away into the forest. I don’t think she had the presence of mind, at that time, to realize that she was heading directly away from the village, though that misdirection likely was the only thing that saved my life.

I fought down outrage as I watched her retreating back quickly disappear among the trees, then turned back to Luth. I would help him myself, if I could, I thought. My mind raced, desperately seeking to remember what herbs might help sustain the stricken boy’s life until help could arrive, or until I could get him back to the village. Mother would know, I thought bitterly; if only she were here… Suddenly, I focused again, truly saw Luth’s face again, and I froze, realizing that it was not agony written on his pale face, but terror. Exactly like the look of terror I had just seen on the face of his sister before she abandoned him to his fate. Even injured as he was, he was still trying hopelessly to pull his broken body farther away from where I stood, stammering breathlessly, “Don’t hurt me, please don’t hurt me. Just leave me, go away! Please!”

I let out an exasperated breath, putting my hands on my hips and glancing around, as if to find some unlooked for means of help for this boy, even though he and his sister had clearly lost their minds. And my eyes fell again on the tree, now resting several spans down the slope. Resting where it had landed after flying up off of Luth, just as I had asked it to do.

And in that moment, the reality of what had happened finally broke through to me. I had wished for the tree to move, wished for it with all my heart, and it had obeyed me.

I had done magic.

Terror filled me, banishing all thoughts but one: I was a witch! I had done magic! I forgot about Baifin, forgot about Luth, forgot everything but the need to get away, to be safe. And the only place that came to mind was home, with my parents. I had to get home!

Without another word, I turned and fled, heading back toward the village. I have often wondered, in the time since that day, what happened to Luth after I abandoned him; I always imagine the worst, and regret my rash fear. But at the time, there seemed nothing else for me to do; indeed, there was nothing else that I even thought to do but run home as fast as I could.

I was accounted a swift runner among the youth of Lietborm, and I fairly flew that day. And in my mind, keeping time with every footfall, the refrain ran over and over, “You are a witch. You are a witch. You are a witch.” I was frantic, almost out of my wits, before I had gone twenty paces.

My knowledge of the wood served me well on that day, for time was not on my side. When Baifin got to her home, she would tell everyone who I was. What I was. And then the whole village would fall on my parents and me, rooting out and mercilessly destroying the anathema of magic that had suddenly appeared in their midst. I had to get home before her! Even though she had fled in the wrong direction, and might be wandering lost in the woods for hours, for all I knew, I still raced as fast as I could, making it back to my house faster than I think I had ever done before.

Fortunately, my house was on the outskirts of the forest, so I did not have to raise an unwanted alarm by running through the entire village to get there. In the state I was in, I was incapable of speaking two coherent words, and simply raced silently past our nearest neighbors’ homes, ignoring at least two friendly greetings from the goodwives who lived in them. I had no space in my mind to even think about a reply, no space for anything except the burning need to be safe, to be home!

I burst into the house and found Mother in the kitchen, in the process of gathering the ingredients for what she had planned for our evening meal. Hearing my entrance, she turned and said, “Oh Naedira, you’re back so soon! How many…” Her voice trailed off as she saw my face, then dropping what was in her hands, she rushed to my side and said, “What has happened, dear child?”

I tried to tell her my tale, but panic had gripped me utterly, and all I could manage was to stammer out what seemed to me to be meaningless words. But apparently, I managed to communicate enough, because her face suddenly paled to match my own. Pushing me into the nearest chair, she turned her head and called out in the direction of Father’s workshop, “Rowan, come quickly!”

A moment later, Father appeared in the doorway, wiping his hands on a cloth, his mouth opening to speak some question. But it died on his lips as he took in the scene before him. At the sight of him, I burst into renewed panic, unheeded tears streaming down my face, stammering out apologies and incoherent warnings so franticly that I am surprised I did not rouse all of our neighbors with the noise.

Father listened for only a few moments before glancing grimly at Mother. Then he stepped to my chair, leaned down and placed a finger on my forehead as he spoke a few words that I could not understand.

Suddenly, a whirlwind swept through my mind, gathering up all the conflicting fears and emotions and thrusting them back, through a small doorway in the back of my mind that I had never knew existed before that moment. All the hysteria that had gripped me passed through it, then the door slammed shut behind them, and suddenly my mind was clear. There was no feeling, no emotion, simply pure thought.

Many things that I had known or suspected about my life, especially about my Naming Day, suddenly were as clear as if they had been written in a book before me. But the first thing I said, the first complete thought that rang through my now achingly clear mind, was, “You have just cast a magic spell on me.”

There was no recrimination, no fear, no emotion at all in my voice, simply a statement of fact, but Mother flinched as though I had struck her. Father merely nodded grimly, pulled over another chair and sat facing me. “Tell me what happened, Naedira,” he said, almost wearily.

I told them the whole story, clearly and easily, as if reciting a tale that had no meaning or connection to me at all. And at that moment, it meant no more than that to me. Father’s reaction as I spoke, not surprise but rather resignation, told me more than anything else that they already knew of my ability to do magic. Likely all my life, my newly logical brain told me, since clearly they, or at least he, could use magic as well. Apparently, I was a witch who came from a family of witches, but that thought meant no more to me than the thought that I came from a family of leatherworkers.

When I finished, Father turned to the fire, silent for a few moments. At some point during my tale, Mother had begun weeping softly, but I noted it simply as a fact of the environment; it meant nothing more to me than that.

Unburdened as I was by fear or doubt, I quickly said what they were apparently both too afraid to say. “As soon as Baifin reaches home, they will come for me.”

My words stirred Father from his reverie. “Yes,” he agreed, “they will be coming.” Turning to face me and Mother, he continued, “It may take Baifin some time to gather wits enough to find her way out of the forest, and if she is still as incoherent as you were, that will buy us some more time, perhaps. But once they have her story from her, they will be coming.”

“Perhaps sooner,” I replied, feeling nothing, though I pronounced the fast approach of my own doom. “Goodwife Nantel and Goodwife Peirin saw me come from the woods. They greeted me, and I did not reply. They certainly must realize that something is wrong, and may soon come to see what it is.”

As he spoke, Father’s tone and bearing had become firmer, as if his words had helped him come to a decision, but my words spurred him suddenly into action and he began to move with greater purpose. Turning to Mother, he said gently, “Eilen, gather some clothes for her, and what food you can quickly find. Some money too, as much as we have. No more than she can carry; she can not be burdened.” Mother did not move, but stood still, staring at me with longing and sorrow mixed in her eyes. Father went to her, took her briefly in his arms and murmured, “All will be well, my heart. We knew this day might come, and we know what we must do. Go.”

Shaking herself sharply, as if throwing off sleep, she turned and threw herself into her task, preparing a bundle for me. She did not look at me again, but I could see her watching me out of the corner of her eye, as if trying not to see me but unable to keep herself from it.

Father returned to sit in the chair facing me. Pausing briefly, as if weighing how to begin, he eventually said, “I am sorry, Naedira. As I am sure you have realized, we knew of your potential to touch Magic. Generally, magical talent does not manifest on its own, and never before a person reaches eighteen. Most people have to be coaxed and trained before they can use it, so we thought it safer not to reveal this to you until your training in Magic could begin.” He swallowed hard, and looked away, watching Mother for a moment as she scurried around the house gathering things for my bundle.

Turning back to me, he continued, “What happened today obviously changes everything. Your Magic has manifested naturally, and earlier than we could have expected. This means,” he paused again, as if hoping he could find another conclusion than the one we both knew had to come.

“It means,” I finished for him, “that we must flee.”

He shook his head slightly, but simply said, “There is a wise man, a Master Magician, living far to the south and east of here, somewhere in the Barrier Mountains. His name is Lornus. You must find him and ask for his help. He can teach you all you need to know. And more importantly,” he glanced again toward Mother, who had finished gathering and was now quickly placing all that she had found into a small leather satchel. “More importantly, he can keep you safe, at least for a time.”

But my emotionless brain was working faster than his, and I replied, “It is unlikely that we will be able to escape the village. Even if Baifin has not yet told her story, still our departure will be noted. They will follow and will undoubtedly catch us.”

Father shook his head more firmly this time. “We are not without resources, my dear Naedira. We will speed you on your way, far enough to keep you beyond their reach. That much, we can do for you.” Grimly, almost under his breath, he murmured, “I wish it could be more.”

I opened my mouth to ask what he meant, but at that moment Mother came and placed the newly filled satchel into my hands. I glanced at it briefly, without interest or curiosity. It held everything that I owned in the world, as well as the small supply of food and coin that Mother had hastily gathered.

As I pulled the strap over my head, Father answered the question I had not yet asked. “Mother and I will cast another spell, one that will push you a fair distance in the direction that you need to go. It can’t take you too far, certainly not all the way to Lornus, unfortunately. But it will at least give you enough of a head start to allow you to evade any pursuit that might come from Leitborm.”

I nodded, accepting this new information, but a new thought had occurred to me. “You have spoken only of me,” I said in a flat voice that should have been at least puzzled, if not horrified at the implications of what I was saying. “But the law commands that the family of a known witch be destroyed along with her. You must come with me.”

It was a logical conclusion, two numbers added together to form a simple sum, nothing more.

Father glanced at Mother again, and she moved her hand to rest on his shoulder. Something unspoken passed between them, something so purely emotional that, in my current state, I could not begin to understand. Then Father turned back to me and sadly shook his head. “To push you far enough to be of any use will require the power of both your Mother and I casting it. Once you are gone, we will not be able to follow.”

I digested this information for a moment, then matter-of-factly replied, “You will be killed.”

Mother began sobbing softly again, and Father stood, enfolding her in his arms for a silent moment. Then he pushed away, and I saw her tears were gone, replaced by a stern resolve. “It is time,” he said, motioning for me to stand. “We must act now or all may be lost. She may be lost.”

Mother merely nodded grimly as she took his hand, gripping it fiercely for a moment. I stood, and she touched my cheek briefly with her other hand, murmuring, “My dearest Naedira,” softly, almost as if to herself.

Then Father put his hands on my shoulders and turned me to face him. Leaning down, he gently kissed my forehead and said, Naedira, my daughter, my heart! I knew always that you were special, and you have never disappointed me. Go now, find Lornus, and live. Never forget us, nor how much we love you!” Then he turned me again, so that my back was facing west. Mother moved to stand beside him, both just a step behind me, and both placed their hands atop one another’s on my shoulders.

I heard Father take in a deep breath, then he spoke another phrase that seemed to slip over or around my hearing and out of my mind before I could grasp what was said.

Suddenly, the world dissolved into a swirling wash of color, as if the walls around me had turned into a churning river of sound and light that was rushing past me. I could see nothing clearly, but the sensation of motion, almost of flight, was overwhelming. If I could have felt rather than simply think, I do not believe I would have survived. But that mysterious door that blocked my emotions remained firmly shut, so I merely watched curiously as the world turned to water and bent around me.

When everything stopped, I stumbled to the ground and realized that I was now outside. Standing again, I quickly took stock of my surroundings. I was in a field of early wheat that stood about as high as my waist. Turning north, I saw that the high road lay about fifty spans away, running diagonally from southwest to northeast. Turning again, I saw the eaves of the great forest standing only about half a mile away to the east. That forest stretched south and north for more than a hundred miles, and was so wide that the far boarders lay well within the Barrier Mountains, far away to the east.

I turned in a full circle, then turned again, making certain of what I saw. Between the forest and the road, I knew where I must be, though as far as I could remember, I had never stood in this place before. But I knew that I was now more than three miles away from Leitborm, far beyond the reach of any pursuit that might soon be coming from that direction. If I could reach the forest without being seen, it would be highly unlikely that anyone from the village would ever be able to find me.

Knowing that even a casual remark from a stranger passing on the road could set them on my heels, cold as the trail might then be, my logical brain told me that it would be much safer if I was not seen by anyone, so I immediately turned my face to the east and set out toward the forest, hoping to travel there unseen while paralleling the road for as far as I could. The tracks of the wheat lay against me, so my progress was slow, hindered further by the need to constantly listen for any sound of movement on the road, so that I could quickly crouch down and hide in the wheat before any traveler chanced by to see me.

I had covered perhaps half the distance to the forest when that strange door in my mind burst open and dissolved, allowing my emotions to flood back over me. In an instant, I saw the sacrifice my parents had made to ensure my survival. I remembered the love that shown in both of their eyes as they willingly gave their lives to purchase mine. And in the same instant, I was crushed by the undeniable fact that I would never see my family alive again.

I collapsed on the ground in the middle of the field and wept, heedless of anything other than the grief that suddenly overwhelmed me.

Chapter 4: The Cabin