When the morning dawned, Lathan was woken by Mam. Her eyes were dark holes rimmed with red from lack of sleep. She shooed him into the kitchen where Ethan was spooning parritch with sliced apple and cinnamon into bowls. Lathan ate hastily and hurried to his room to gather his few belongings. Mam was there already, packing spare clothes and a blanket into a travelling pack.
“Ethan is packing some food and supplies. If there’s anything special you want to take, then you had better pack it yourself. I’m going to make sure your brother packs everything you need.”
“Mam, do I really have to go? Can’t we just pretend Father has gone away and left us? He has done that before, and comes back months later drunk and with debts to pay. It wouldn’t be that hard to believe.” Lathan said as he added his little parcel of treasures to his pack.
“And then you walk past the Mystic one day and they see what you did? No, we can’t leave it to chance. I won’t let them kill you for this. You and your brother will make a start on your journey, then I will call the guard and tell them what happened.”
“Won’t you be in trouble for helping me escape? I won’t leave if it puts you in danger.”
“They won’t kill me, I’ll be fine,” Mam paused a moment before wrapping her arms around Lathan, “My little boy. My sweet boy. I love you.”
Once packed and ready to set off, the family joined in the kitchen, away from the cold grey body of their Father in the living room. It was time to say their goodbyes. Marnie stood knock-kneed, wrinkling her nose. She had tied the shells that Lathan had found for her into strands of hair on either side of her cheeks. They dangled, clinking as she smiled at him and stuck out her tongue, then gave him a quick hug. “You both better not get lost and die of starvation. I’ll be sad.”
“Huh, thanks Marn. You always have so much faith in me.” Lathan smiled, for once glad for her jibes. If this was the last time he would see her, he wanted her to be smiling.
Ronan ruffled Lathan’s hair affectionately. “Well, at least now you won't be always getting underfoot in the forge. Uh. If you can write to us, Mam would probably like it. Though, with things being what they are with the war... who knows if you'll be able to send any letters. Or if they'll even get here. Don’t worry about the forge. That boy from the inn was asking for an apprenticeship, so I’ll hire him. It was only a matter of time before I took over the place. I’ll look after Mam and Marnie.”
It was the most words he'd heard spoken from Ronan in a long time. His stoic brother had usually avoided speaking altogether. Lathan gave him an awkward nod. Mam stepped forward suddenly, placing her hand on Ethan's shoulder. “You keep your brother safe. Just both of you be careful, alright?” She squeezed his shoulder and then pulled him into a tight embrace. “I love you so much. You were always such a good boy, but now you're a man. You look after yourself and your little brother, you hear me? Now you had better both be going. Stick to the roads, it’ll be safer.”
The brothers left the family home, packs on their shoulders, and headed down the road towards the South. A thought struck Lathan, and he asked his brother, “Did Father ever hit Mam before last night? I... I thought it was just us...”
“You aren't around her as much as I am... I saw the bruises on the arms, the scratches... He broke one of her fingers once, you know? You were only little then. You probably don't remember. I couldn't watch it any more. So, I got in the way whenever he got mad. I did it to protect her. But I know how weak I must have seemed to you. You wanted to protect me too, didn't you? You're a good man, Lathan. I know you've not got your belt yet, but you're a good man.” Ethan grasped Lathan's forearm and looked at him with fire in his eyes.
As they drew nearer to the centre of town, sounds of a huge crowd emanated from the direction of the town square. Occasional cheers, and singing, and music. It was like a festival day. But the festivals weren't for months and months yet, so it couldn't be that. He looked at Ethan, who just shrugged, equally clueless as to what was going on.
Lathan followed the sounds slowly. From a distance, he could see the huge crowd gathered. When they got closer to the source of the commotion, Ethan pointed at a large group of men and women, who wore the military uniform of the capital. There were soldiers in the centre of the crowd. What's more, standing among them were Channelers! Real Channelers! They must have come all the way from the capital! But why?
Thoughts raced through Lathan's head. Was the war coming here? But nothing ever happened this far North. It made no sense! Maybe they were there to take extra taxes for the war effort? But why bring Channelers? Usually they just sent an official with a couple of guards. No, this made no sense. Lathan was glancing around looking for someone friendly to ask what was happening, when suddenly, the crowd fell eerily silent, as though everyone had been put into a trance. Looking around, Lathan saw dozens of the Crabton Port locals simply staring ahead, some with an odd smile on their faces. Ethan had stopped walking, and stood staring at thin air wearing a vacant expression.
A Channeler appeared in a blur next to him, as though he had somehow moved faster than possible for an ordinary man. Lathan jumped slightly, his heart beating rapidly. “Wha-”
He had no chance to ask his question, however, as he was abruptly lifted, and felt himself carried at an impossible speed away from his blank-eyed brother and towards the epicentre of the commotion. Lathan didn't know what was happening, but he knew that he didn't want to be involved. Part of him knew it was futile, knew it would not help him, but still he struggled. A sound of surprise emanated from the Channeler, as Lathan became a whirlwind of elbows, and managed to slip free from his captor's grip. Feeling his chest becoming warm, he remembered the same feeling from the previous night. He felt the pull again, and tugged back instinctively. A rush of energy filled him. He didn't wait around to see what the Channeler would do.
Lathan ran. He dropped his pack, and kept on running. It seemed like it was only a few moments, but he was already about a mile outside of the town. But that was impossible, wasn't it? In his shock at this realisation, he tripped, and fell, rolling several metres before coming to a complete stop. Lathan groaned, and stood, shaking the dust off of himself.
“Are you done running? What are you, a runaway? Why are you running from us, boy? Did your assignment not treat you well or something?” It was the Channeler. He had been following at Lathan’s heels the whole time, and was holding Lathan’s travelling pack under one arm. A low crackle of flames came from the Channeler's left hand. Lathan tried not to look at the burning piece of coal he was carrying between his calloused fingers.
“What are you talking about? What assignment? I don't know who any of you people are and you grabbed me. I ran away because you scared me... Uh... Sir.” Lathan was beginning to think that he had somehow gotten himself into a great deal of trouble. The last thing he needed was to draw attention to himself right now.
“You mean to say that you don't know that you're one of us? You just used Channeler powers running away from us. Surely you have been trained, maybe not well, but you've talent, there's no doubt about it.” The Channeler had a measured and calm, no nonsense way of speaking. It was almost as though he were trying to calm a particularly skittish goat. “So, boy. Did you run away from a school? You’re kind of short, and I see you have a child's belt still, so you mustn't have passed your sixteenth yet. It's alright, boy, my Goddess is a benevolent and wise one. She will not allow anything bad to happen to you.”
Lathan paled at that, and fell back down to his knees. “Your... G-Goddess? You m-mean... Th-there's an Ascended here?”
The Channeler looked sympathetic, and sat down next to Lathan on the dusty ground. “Look, whatever it is that you're worried about, she can help. I know her, and she will understand. Besides, what choice do you have? We've found you now. I'll talk to her about getting you posted somewhere different, then you won't have to run away again.”
“I... I'm sorry Sir, but I d-don't understand. I lived here all my life. I was b-born in Crabton Port. I'm n-nobody special Sir. I'm just the son of the blacksmith here. All I do is chop wood, and feed the forge! I'm a n-nobody! You must’ve mistook me for someone else!”
“If you live here, why did you have a traveling pack? Going somewhere? Well, easy way to find out...” The Channeler looked skeptically at Lathan, and took his hand, gently turning it palm upwards. Lathan flinched as the Channeler took out a sharp and cruel looking knife from a scabbard on his belt, but he didn't dare try to escape again.
The Channeler drew the tip of the knife across Lathan's palm, scoring along his skin deeply. Blood immediately welled up in his palm, and Lathan drew in a sharp breath, but what he saw next, he barely believed. The wound began to close instantly. The scab formed as quickly as the blood had begun to pour out. The scab hardened, and then he felt an itch underneath it, and it flaked off of his hand. The skin underneath was shiny and new, as though he had not been cut at all. “A... a trick! You're a Channeler. You have magic powers. It must be a trick!” Lathan gasped.
“Not how it works, friend. You healed that all by yourself. You're one of us, all right. You really didn't know?” The Channeler stood up, offering Lathan an outstretched hand. “Well, come on. It's you she wanted to see, and it doesn't do to keep a Goddess waiting. You can call me Flame Master Dremos.”
Lathan stood and dusted himself off, briefly considering running again, but he pushed that fool idea away and began walking back to the town centre. “I'm Lathan. Son of Lynn and Doran.”
Before long, Lathan stood before a strange box with curtains around it. The four bare-chested Channelers carrying it stood as still as trees, as though they were statues of men, but the wind rustling through their hair and clothes gave them away. They were most definitely men, but very strange ones.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“You are honoured to be in the presence of Her Radiance Enalla the Gentle, the Herald of War. You may step forward, boy.” said Dremos.
The curtains parted, and, trembling in awe, Lathan dropped his gaze. A woman's voice resonated over his head. He was so nervous he barely understood the words, but the voice was the most beautiful he had ever heard. He wondered what kind of a woman could sound like that, the voice was almost musical, but it held steel within it.
“Lift your head, boy. I wish to look at your face... But perhaps you are afraid. Fear not. You will not be punished. I wish for you to look at me, so that is what you must do.”
Lathan gulped and looked up at the woman sat in the strange box. She was younger than Lathan had supposed, but still older than him. He was an awkward child before her. Her dark waves of hair hung prettily about her face, and strewn about it were dozens of glittering jewels. Her skin was decorated with strange patterns and she wore the rich, brightly dyed silks of the Southerners. He drank in the sight of her, she was the most unusual person he had ever seen and she captivated him. He was still shaking, but he kept his eyes on her, even daring to look at her mark. It swirled around her left cheek and radiated down her neck onto her shoulder, which was left bare apart from some strange brightly painted markings that decorated and emphasised the holy symbol of her divinity. She really was a Goddess! She was a Goddess and she was talking to him!
“Yes, I thought it was you. I have waited a long time to see this face in person. You are important... Perhaps you will win us the war. We shall see if you were worth the wait. You will come with us to the capital. But first... You didn't respond to my mesmerism earlier.” The Goddess appeared to be pondering something, and touched one of her delicate finger tips to her lips for a moment, “You must have a rare talent for avoiding the effects of mind control. That is something of an issue, as many of my family will find this to be ...inconvenient. So, you will keep this talent to yourself. The Channelers here are loyal to me, and so they will not betray you, but do not betray yourself.”
Lathan shifted uncomfortably under her watchful eyes. He cleared his throat uneasily, not quite believing he was about to refuse the demands of a God.
“I can’t…”
One of the Channelers seemed to take half a step towards him as though wanting to punish Lathan for his insolence but the Goddess must have stopped him somehow because he turned to her and bowed so low that his head touched the ground.
“Dremos tells me you are the son of the blacksmith? Is he here in this... square? Point him out to me. Bring him before me.” The Goddess's lilting voice was soothing, but Lathan was not calmed by this request. His Father. His Father was dead. “Why are you so afraid, boy? I have promised that you will not be harmed. Dremos, find me the boy’s family.”
A few agonisingly slow minutes later, Mam was marched into the square, sobbing and wiping her eyes with a cloth. Confusion and fear crossed her face as she weaved in between the people standing in the square, who were almost as still as the Channelers carrying the Goddess. Each and every one of them had a strangely happy expression on their face.
The Goddess's voice chimed over to Lathan, “Ahh. I see now why you are so reluctant to leave. But do not fear. I will resolve this. Go stand with Dremos.”
Lathan did as he was told, though he felt uneasy at what a Goddess “resolving” something might mean. He watched as the statue-like Channelers moved swiftly, but gracefully towards Mam, carrying their holy burden on their shoulders. When the Goddess was directly in front of Mam, she spoke so gently that Lathan could not hear the words. After a murmured exchange with Mam, Enalla turned her gaze to the crowd.
“Ethan. Come forward.” She gestured to Ethan, who came out of his trance and gaped at the sight of the Channelers and the Ascended before him. Her raised hand beckoned him forward, and he shuffled towards the Goddess, wide-eyed and fearful.
“Do not be afraid. Nobody will hurt you. Never again. I have seen into your mother's soul and I know the truth.” She silently ordered her seat to be lowered further, so that she could be level with Ethan’s eyes. “I know what you did. I know why, and it makes me proud of you, if sad that you had to do this, and for so long. But you are a good man. A good son to your mother. Loyal. Perhaps even more loyal than some of my Channelers here.”
“I-I'm n-not sure what you m-mean... Um. Your R-Radiance.” Ethan stammered, trying to keep his eyes lowered.
“Oh, I think you do... You were tired of seeing the bruises on your mother. So, you made sure all of his anger and all of his violence would be focused on you. Of course, you couldn't stop him completely. This very moment she has painful welts on her legs from that belt of his. He never stopped hitting her. He only stopped doing it in places anyone would notice.” Enalla said. Ethan raised misty eyes toward the Goddess.
“You know what happened, don’t you?”
“Yes I am aware of what happened. Lathan. Come forth. You must say your farewells. We are leaving as soon as we can. You will be pardoned for the incident. You both will come with us to Paliathese.” Enalla's expression had softened, but Lathan still detected a hard edge to her voice. She expected to be obeyed without question. “I will leave you for the moment, to say your goodbyes. Return to me before it gets dark. We leave tonight.”
_______________________________________________________________
She struggled to stay afloat for a few desperate moments, the eddying tides of the stream threatening to pull her underwater. She spluttered and panicked as the cold water rushed up her nostrils. Some instinct of self-preservation gave her the thought to turn over onto her back, and she did so, trying to push away the panic and allow herself to float. Slowly, the fear flowed out of her body and she drifted gently away with the current of the water.
Clouds hung tumultuous in the sky above her, and figures danced high above her within the storm. The faint sound of fires, shouts and metal clanking reached her ears, almost drowned out by the splashing around her. Becoming more confident in her ability to keep afloat, she kicked her feet, and pushed against the water with her hands cupped. Before long, she had reached the bank of the stream. She dragged herself to her feet, but couldn’t put any weight on her left leg. Pain. Terrible pain. Looking down, a dreadful gash was spilling blood from her thigh and a red trail followed behind her in the still shallows of the stream.
“Ugh… This looks bad…” She spoke, but a part of her felt some shock when hearing herself. She had spoken the words, but this wasn’t her voice she was hearing. Had the water hurt her throat? Is this why she sounded so strange? Where was she? What was going on?
Lysette shook herself, her mind must have been wandering. Her head swam, and her vision was murky and dark until she pinched herself to regain composure. By now she was quite used to waking up from strange nightmares, but this was the first time that she had had such a vivid daydream. Pain seared through her. What was that?
Looking to be sure that Granny hadn’t seen her daydreaming, she surreptitiously pulled her skirt up under the table so that she could check her leg. Glancing down, she saw it. A nasty cut ripped through the skin on her upper thigh, twisted and jagged, and bleeding. She stared at it in shock. “Granny… I..I-I don’t know how this happened but I’m hurt! Look!”
“What now, poppet? You playing a game with me to get out of crushing the rosemary I gave you to sort out? Hm?” Granny chided, as she walked to the kitchen table where Lysette had been mixing and crushing herbs for storing. “Oh! Ohhhh! That does look bad, my Duckling! Hold on while I get you something. How did you manage to do that?!”
Granny’s rotund form wobbled around the kitchen gathering ingredients for a poultice, tutting to herself and shaking her head occasionally. “Put pressure on it and lift your leg up. It’ll slow the bleeding. You should know that by now, or haven’t I told you anything? Hm?” She used the soft, calming but no-nonsense voice that she often would use with her patients when their injuries were very bad to stop them from panicking. Panicked folks’ hearts beat faster, and then they bleed more, and that does ‘em no good, she would say.
“It’s okay Granny, I’m not scared. I’m sure it’ll be fine. I don’t know how I did it in the first place but it’ll be fine.” Lysette said, not sure if she was trying to reassure her Granny or herself. She held her fingers tightly over the wound, a few drops of blood slowly seeping between them. Lysette lifted her leg and watched as Granny pottered about, taking a pinch of prepared herbs from her pestle and placing them in a clean cloth and tying it into a bundle.
Granny rushed back to Lysette’s side, the freshly prepared and fragrant poultice in her hand. She shooed away Lysette’s hand, and inspected the skin there again. “Well, that’s odd… it mustn’t have been such a bad cut after all, Duckie. See? It’s stopped bleeding. It barely even looks like there’s a cut there now. I suppose the pressure must’ve helped.”
Lysette took the poultice from Granny anyway, and held it against her bloodstained skin. The pain had almost completely subsided. If it wasn’t for all the blood, she would have said she didn’t believe there was anything wrong with her leg at all. Granny fetched a clean strip of cloth from a basket and offered it to Lysette.
“Granny, what do you dream about?” Lysette reached for the bandage, “Only, my dreams are so strange, and sometimes… Sometimes I dream when I’m not asleep. I know people have daydreams but I didn’t think they were supposed to be so vivid… There must be something wrong with me!”
“Where’s this come from? You’ve just got an active imagination, poppet, that’s all. Maybe it’s all those books you read, giving you these strange ideas and fancies. You know, you don’t really see many other girls and boys your age, maybe your mind is just filling in things that it thinks it’s missing. I’ll tell you what, it’s the fair soon, why don’t we attend it this time?” Granny said, “You can talk with your friend, the nice one who gives you the books. Dora, is it? Nelly? Nora! That’s it. Maybe you can have a little dance! There’s usually music of a sort at a fair day. They’ll have booked some Mosey troupe I imagine.”
“Thanks, Granny, I’d like that…” Lysette said, tying the bandage around the bundle of herbs and her thigh.
Lysette didn’t have the heart to tell Granny that the thought of being around so many people wasn’t appealing to her. They’d all be there either ignoring her completely, or staring at her as if expecting to do something odd at any moment, the strange, ugly girl who lives with the wise woman. She would be the only girl there who hadn’t been planning for weeks and weeks. The other girls would have planned everything they did, from what they wore, to who they would talk to and dance with. They wouldn’t have planned for her being there, and she doubted that many would be happy to see her. There was Nora, who liked her well enough to lend her books and chat with her about stories, of course, but Lysette was sure that at the fair she would want to spend time with her other friends from the village. Lysette would enjoy the music, and the food was usually great at a fair, so at least she could look forward to that. She wouldn’t let herself mope about just because she was being ignored or disdained. Granny wanted her to enjoy herself, so she would.
A gentle knock at the front door. Granny wondered aloud who it could be, and went to answer it. The muffled conversation filtered through to Lysette, who had, after washing her hands, resumed the crushing and bottling of herbs at the kitchen table.
“Hello? Is something the matter, dearie?” Granny said.
“Yes. The Williamses… They’re all dreadful sick. It’s awful. Please come quick!” A female voice drifted from the doorway. The sound of Granny collecting bags and a coat and shawl. Lysette walked to the herb shelf and picked three or four bottles, gathering them up for Granny. Pushing away a stray hair from her face, she brought the herbs to Granny in the hall.
“Thank you, Lyssie. I’ll go visit the Williamses and see what I can do for them. Hmm, could you throw a few things in the pot for me when I get back? You’re a love.” Granny finished buttoning her coat and threw her shawl around her neck, before taking the herbs from Lysette’s patient hands and tossing them into a leather satchel.