The walnut tree that had sprung up in the time of Yirva, conceived in a war and carrying a veil as old as its roots, now, with thousands of rings within its thick bark was reaching with its fingerlike branches for the stars in the night. And as the gentle summer breeze with a soft breath silently played with its green leaves, there came a cry from the cottage under its vast canopy.

It was a small wooden cottage with only two rooms. Surrounded by the thick Kordok woods, it stood alone at the site where many centuries ago the village of Boderin could be found. On its left, almost right next to it sprung a shallow stream. A stream, that once provided water to the denizens of this village. The cottage was alone in this clearing surrounded by trees, but despite this, no one that happened to pass by could notice it. Made out of wood, it stood in the same color as the trunks of the trees behind it. The thick layer of ivy and all sorts of other vines that over the years took its walls as their support equated themselves with the low bushes that could be found here or there in between the broad trunks of Kordok. And the green fern leaves that covered it, perfectly matched the color of the toll canopy surrounding it. All this made it so it disappeared and be totally overlaid by its background.

The few old ruins, with their owners dead and forgotten long ago, were the only thing that would give anyone a reason to think that this clearing in the middle of Kordok is anything more than some meadow.

And precisely from that cottage came yells, cries and moans. A penetrating female voice ripped the silence of the night, and with sharp sobs cut the tranquility of the forest. Many birds had already left the brunches of the nearby trees and circled the meadow like vultures lacking the heart to land.

Flickering rays of candle light came through a cracked door into a stifling room and joined the light of the only gauze lamp in the cottage. Even together the flames of the distant candle and the lone lamp hadn’t the strength to completely end the darkness in the small room. They only managed to sharpen the shadows and to make it so the face of the woman on the bed seemed to be carved out of marble.

On a rough wooden bed lay a girl drenched in sweat. Her skin was as white as lime, and her face was contorted in a grimace of pain. Blond locks of hair fell in disarray and half hid her big blue eyes. The simple white sleeping gown that was her only clothing was spilling over the bed and sticking to her body. Her arms were spread and they were hanging off the edges of the bed balled into tight fists. In both hands she was squeezing an amethyst and with all of her being she drew on their power. Even though both were long since emptied, she knew of their hidden power, so by no means could she allow herself to loosen her grip. The pain that in waves washed over her body, would spread and spread and steadily increase, and with it so would her cries. With every new tide of pain, her breath would catch for a moment in her throat before it would loose, escape and pull along another cry in the night. The agony was so all encompassing that the woman was almost unaware of the man sitting beside her. She almost didn’t hear the words he was whispering, but with each of his touches, there was strength flooding her body, and she would greedily drank every drop of energy that he gave her, and for a moment she would relax, before a new wave of pain would drain her anew with a fresh cry.

Regon asked himself where they were. Why were they not here yet, when they knew that today was the day? He tried to think harder on that, but he couldn’t, he needed all of his concentration on what he was doing. He exhaled, closed his eyes and continued with his complicated sentences. With the tips of his fingers he again began rhythmically touching the women’s skin. The foot, the calf, the knee… a new breath, a new sentence, a new flow of energy. And again, the foot, the calf, the knee. His back muscles were quivering from the stiff position in which he was sitting, for not even he was sure how long. His mind was throbbing from the effort needed to get the energy to the needed spot all the way from the leg, but he dared not touch a spot closer to the issue. He didn’t have great power, he always knew that. He had already accepted himself for what he is long ago, but now, when Fonelia was suffering in front of him, and he, because of his own powerlessness and ignorance couldn’t offer her the help she needed, he caught himself beginning to wish again and hope that somehow, with some sort of miracle he would become a real wizard. That he, after some unexpected rush of understanding would begin to throw around real healing spells and that he would be able not only lend her brief gulps of power, but be able to truly help Fonelia. Even this small part of his consciousness that dared fantasize and hope, was hindering his spell. So, with the power of a will born from the love he felt for his wife, he suppressed it, he smothered it and destroyed it. He didn’t need such a hope now. What he needed now were THEM, his friends, the witches, but where were they… it seemed he couldn’t focus his mid today no matter what he did… it might be just tiredness, but maybe, just maybe there was something mystical in him, some sort of intuition trying to tell him something.

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He exhaled again, made a few signs with his fingers, whispered a new phrase and touched Fonelia again. He was doing this for about ten hours now. He again finished the cycle; he again whispered and bent his fingers in a new sign, again his gaze for a moment flicked out the window, as it did at this time of every spell since dusk time yesterday. He gazed again and tried in a single moment, in a single glance out a small window to encompass the whole of Bodrin. But like every previous attempt, he failed; nothing in the darkness of the night would tell him whether anyone arrived to Kordok. Maybe something happened to them… No!- he cut himself off before he could even finish the thought, he couldn’t let himself believe in something like that. They were their only hope if what they said was true. If… his thoughts ceased. With a final loudest moan ceased Fonelia’s cries as well, and a new sound filled the room. Laughter, uncontrollable laughter was coming out of his throat, and in his arms lay a small wrinkled form of a baby, still connected via his umbilical cord to his laughing mother. While with his prepared knife Regon for the first time separated the son from the mother, somewhere in the depths of his mind, behind all that happiness and excitement, there existed a grain of pride that his efforts were worth it. It seemed his spells succeeded. Despite her labors, Fonelia seemed all right, her chest worked overtime so she could calm herself, but even so, after all the pain she endured, there was a soft smile on her face. He let out a sigh of relief, everything seemed to be fine. Another bout of laughter was heard from both parents when the first cry announced the life of their son. Even though the biggest boulder had left his soul, with just one look out the window, he again withdrew within himself. He whispered spells and tried to expand his consciousness, to find his friends, but the ancient magic surrounding Kordok kept stopping him, again and again. With each new failure his smile grew, if he couldn’t touch the outside, they must be all right. But if that was true, why were they still missing? He was so engrossed in what he was doing that he almost didn’t register the laughter coming from the woman on the bed, he was almost unaware of the crying coming from the baby in her arms, but then something wrenched him out of this meditation of his. Something pulled him back to reality, something so unexpected that he had to blink to assure himself that he did see it, but when he opened his eyes again, all was as before. Everything looked like before, but Fonelia was no longer laughing, he hurriedly turned back to her and looked at her, he truly looked at her, not just some quick glace at her mouth to see if her teeth were hidden, but he took her all in. her shoulders were taught, even despite her enfeeblement she was flexing her whole body, the baby in her arms was pressed tightly to her breast, her eyes were wide, and her white face was so pale that she looked like some sort of shade. So it was true. That bright emerald light really for a moment illuminated the whole of Kordok. What could that mean? His eyes still stung from that blinding light, even though it disappeared in less than a moment. He exhaled and tried again, he closed his eyes and repeated the final sentence of his last spell and he braced himself, he couldn’t get himself to release it, he feared it would succeed. All his blood left his face when he did succeed, his consciousness spread ever wider and didn’t encounter a wall at all, the barrier he had come to expect was no longer there.

Did this mean… no, he couldn’t let himself think like that. But if they were really dead, than how… what could he do, a mare mage against an enemy that the tree of them feared…

After another moment of despair he collected himself. He decided, he would do anything so his son could live.

“I’ll go and prepare.”- he said to Fonelia and left the cottage.