“Clouds deposit rain and snow on the mountain peak. Snow melts from the peaks of mountains into water that flows down the slopes, winding its way through valleys and across the plains for a time until joining the sea. Clouds form above the seas and gather at the mountains. It is a circle…. Magic permeates the material world through the boundary of the aether. It gives souls to lifeless forms that make their way through the turns of the world for a time, changing and being changed, eventually returning to the immaterial world of the empyrean sea. The souls of life-bearing forms create the magic of the aether that gathers at the boundary of the material world. It is a circle.”
* The Book of Heaven and Earth
Magic beasts are a curious mix of near human cunning and brutal animal instincts the youth noted. Sucking thoughtfully on a honeycomb, he watched as the creature below him demolished a giant hive of white-scaled bees. The young man in the tree and the magic beast below were both protected by a barrier of thin purple smoke that emanated from a smouldering bundle of twigs and broad blue leaves held in the youth’s hand. The angry swarm was repelled by the smoke as if it were a physical thing.
Eventually the swarm divided into six parts, each one centred about a queen, and departed. Workers carrying larvae and stomachs full of precious honey. They would spread through the forest, forming new hives while the magic beast got to enjoy a rare treat in exchange for not eating the strange human who spoke the in the wyrding tongue.
As the two enjoyed the fruits of their labours a myre-bird alighted upon the youth’s shoulder. It looked upon the scene imperiously, regally accepting the young man’s offering of a honey smeared grub. Finishing the treat, it tilted its head to the youth and seemed whisper in his ear. The young man’s lips pressed into a grim line of contemplation, then he turned and warbled at his new friend below who was in the midst of gorging on honey. The magic beast lifted a white furred brow in perplexation.
What did the strange human want now?
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Life and death walk hand in hand in the forest. From the old giants standing shoulder to shoulder, their upper canopies soaking in the light. To the myriad lifeforms living within and below them, scurrying through their flicker-lives in a headlong race for survival. The tree tops cast the forest floor in a perpetual shadow broken only intermittently as the sway of branches in the wind opened rare windows of opportunity for sunlight to gently brush the earth as if a lover surreptitiously stealing a kiss.
In places where one of the forest’s giants had fallen to age, illness or rank happenstance. Young contenders vied for their place in the circle of lifegiving illumination like drowning men desperately scrambling against each other as they reach for salvation. To a stranger the black forest might seem an ominous thing. The dark bark of tall trees in an ever-present gloom. Mysterious sounds carried on the wind, distant roars, chirps and whistles. The earthy smell of decomposing leaves littering the ground hiding unseen creatures stirring there under.
The girl fleeing for her life with her friend is not a stranger to the forest. Her earliest years had been spent travelling in the company of the village’s hunters trailing behind her mother as she was taught the simple woodcraft needed to survive in the wilds. How to navigate the forest edges without losing her way, what plants heal, hurt or were fit to eat. Learning to use bow and arrow held her interest more than knowing how to field dress game, treat minor wounds or move surefooted across the leaf strewn forest floor. It was only in the last few moments, as Nenya’s aunt brought Myra to her and instructed them to hide in the forest, that she realised what those lessons had really been about.
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With worried eyes she looked back at her gasping friend struggling with her hiked up skirt, so impractical for the task at hand when compared to her own more sensible leggings. They were still a fair bit away from the hidden camp the village hunters sometimes used. Fortunately, it seemed that they had evaded pursuit by the forces attacking their village. That gave her some leeway for helping Myra.
Decision made, she slowed her pace and led Myra to a moss-covered stump of a blackwood tree. Tall and wide, the unassuming exterior hid a hollow centre accessed through a hole carefully hidden by moss and vines tied to rope netting. It was just large enough to fit the two girls comfortably. More importantly, after a bit of searching Nenya found an oilskin bag containing hunter’s clothing, some weapons and other supplies. She kept watch through the disguised opening as Myra adjusted the clothing with a knife and some petty spells in preparation for wearing them.
Soon the other girl was ready to go and Nenya took Myra’s hand, already planning her next step, when she paused before the opening beset with a feeling of dread. Dropping to a crouch, she motioned Myra to silence, whispering softly.
“Hold a moment, I think something is out there.”
Smiling in reassurance to calm the worry that flashed across the face of the girl kneeling beside her, Nenya carefully peered through the moss covered netting disguising their hideout. Long minutes passed in silence filled with only the sound of buzzing forest insects and Myra shifting uneasily behind her. Nenya was about to signal that they were going to leave when she heard the sound of baying hounds and distant curses in an unfamiliar language.
Gripping Myra’s hand in warning, Nenya drew the dagger she carried with her and stabbed it into the earth at her feet. Then she quickly began to string her hunter’s bow. Looking out through the weave of the netting she watched as two men following a pair of dogs became visible through the trees. Turning toward Myra, she quickly mouthed.
“Two raiders with dogs.”
Grimly, she watched as they grew closer to their position obviously following their scent. She was going to have to kill the trackers.
“Um, Nenya.” Myra’s voice whispered querulously.
“Quiet.” She reprimanded softly without looking back, preparing to nock an arrow.
“We’ll only get one shot at this.”
Bringing up her bow, she carefully moved forward until the head of the arrow peeked out a gap in the netting. She aimed for the trailing man and began to time her breaths. Steadying herself, in one fluid motion she drew and let fly an arrow. Her focused eyes saw the leading man inhale sharply as the arrow whizzed by, sinking into the chest of his fellow who let out a guttural cry. She was already reaching for a second arrow, hoping to get the raider before he could find cover when her thoughts were scattered by a tremendous roar.
Nenya watched in shock as a morbriosca, forty stone of angry fur, muscle and teeth, collided with the raider and began to maul him as the hunting dogs fled in terror.
“Nenya…”
“Myra,” She interrupted her friend whispering breathlessly, “When I say the word, run.”
“That won’t be necessary.” Replied a voice that was most certainly not Myra’s.
“Who?!”
Snatching up her knife, Nenya whirled around to find Myra leaning away from a grinning stranger wearing the forest cloak of a druid.
Unperturbed by the weapon pointed at him, the dark-haired youth continued to smile winningly as he introduced himself in an obviously rehearsed manner with a sketch of a formal a bow.
“I bid you greetings, my dear ladies. I am called Myrelin. Might I inquire after your names and how fare you, on this fine morning?”
The two girls looked at each other, nonplussed.