Crown of Crystal Flame
Page 76
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“Nei.” Rain refused before Ellysetta could speak. Gaelen he trusted to weave Azrahn in Ellysetta’s presence, but Gaelen was dahl’reisen no more. Then Rain glanced at her pale and trembling form, and shame filled him. “Sieks’ta, shei’tani. I should not refuse so hastily. Sheyl is right. You are in pain.”
She gave a wan smile. “So long as you hold my hand, it is manageable.”
“Tell me if it gets worse,” Sheyl instructed. “If you will both follow me. Farel grows impatient when he’s kept waiting.”
Rain held Ellysetta’s hand and guided her after the healer. He wished she was not blindfolded. The sight of this dahl’reisen village in the early-morning light would have filled her with delight. The cabins nestled high in the trees, vine bridges connecting one tree to another. It reminded him of Navahele. Everywhere were signs of not just functionality but artistic beauty. From the intricate, decorative curling of the vines on every bridge and stair to the graceful lines of the buildings, with their exquisitely carved doors and shutters and leaf-covered roofs.
The village seemed at most a part of the forest itself.
“Did the dahl’reisen build all this themselves?” he asked.
Sheyl nodded. “Many of them turn to gentler things to keep the darkness at bay. Some, like the dahl’reisen who fashioned these cabins, find peace working with Earth. Others prefer creating things without any magic at all.”
A woven vine bridge linked the cabin to another larger cabin nestled in a nearby tree. Sheyl led the way across the gently swaying bridge, and Rain guided Ellysetta after her, sending commands in Spirit to guide her feet.
“We are a village of outcasts,” Sheyl continued. “The mortals among us were either winded as children by the villages where we were born—or we are descendants of those who were.”
“Winded?” Rain repeated. “That’s a term I’m not familiar with.”
Ellysetta answered. “It’s a custom in many of the northern villages. When babies are born with deformities or dangerous magic, the villagers take them out to the woods and leave them for the winds to spirit away—which is just a pretty way of saying they abandon them to starve or be eaten by predators. Which is what Mama and Papa thought had happened to me when they found me abandoned in Great-wood as a child.”
“Your mother was so afraid of magic. I’m surprised she would adopt a child she already suspected must have dangerous powers.”
“Papa told me that when Mama was a little girl living in Dolan, her baby sister Bessinita was winded for having Fire magic. Bessie was only two when she was taken off to die. Papa said that was what made Mama take me in. When she looked at me, she saw her baby sister, and she couldn’t leave me to die.”
Rain noticed Sheyl frowning at Ellysetta. “Something is wrong? “
Sheyl’s frown cleared and became a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry. I was just thinking of all the poor children lost to such an evil custom.” She bent her head and continued walking at a brisker pace. “Your mate’s explanation of winding is correct. The Mage Wars left many scars here in the north. The remnant magic still lives in the ground, seeps into our water, our food, our bodies. Most of us born in the north possess some sort of talent, but usually it’s something small and unnoticeable—sensitivity to the emotions of others, a gift for growing things. In some of us, the magic is stronger, more pronounced. Or, the gift is something fearful. My mother had a vision in which she saw the death of a neighbor. She made the mistake of telling someone. When the neighbor died, my mother was blamed. She was seven months pregnant, but the villagers bound her arms and legs and left her in the forest to die. She was half-dead when Farel rescued her. She died in childbirth that same day.”
Ellysetta stopped walking. “You remember her death. You weren’t even born, but you remember it.”
The color left Sheyl’s cheeks. “Your gift is strong, Feyreisa. I’m usually much better at shielding my thoughts. Yes, I remember. And I remember that the vision for which my mother was killed was mine. She saw it because I lived in her belly.”
“Oh, Sheyl.” Ellysetta reached out blindly to clasp the other woman’s hands. “You believe you caused her death. How can you, a healer, still believe that? You were a baby, an innocent life.”
Tears filled Sheyl’s eyes and spilled over. She smiled and tried to pull her hands away. “I was right. Your gift is strong, but as I said, you should conserve your strength.”
“She does not realize she’s doing it,” Rain said quietly. “To her, she is merely sharing the love in her heart, as she has all her life.”
“Doing what?” Ellysetta asked. “What am I doing?”
“Healing, shei’tani. You are healing her. As instinctively as you read her thoughts a moment ago.”
Ellysetta released the other woman. “I’m sorry. Again.”
“I am not offended,” Sheyl answered. “You should not apologize for being what you are. Which is quite remarkable, you know. I’ve never met such a strongly gifted sensitive who could bear to walk within half a mile of this village, even with our shields.”
“Is that so surprising? You don’t seem to have any trouble living here among the dahl’reisen, and you have strong magical talents.”
“I’m not empathic. I sense disease and I see the flows of magic, but I cannot sense thoughts and emotions.” They had reached a hanging stair that led down towards the forest floor below. Sheyl paused. “Before we go down to Farel, there is someone I would like you both to meet.”
She gave a wan smile. “So long as you hold my hand, it is manageable.”
“Tell me if it gets worse,” Sheyl instructed. “If you will both follow me. Farel grows impatient when he’s kept waiting.”
Rain held Ellysetta’s hand and guided her after the healer. He wished she was not blindfolded. The sight of this dahl’reisen village in the early-morning light would have filled her with delight. The cabins nestled high in the trees, vine bridges connecting one tree to another. It reminded him of Navahele. Everywhere were signs of not just functionality but artistic beauty. From the intricate, decorative curling of the vines on every bridge and stair to the graceful lines of the buildings, with their exquisitely carved doors and shutters and leaf-covered roofs.
The village seemed at most a part of the forest itself.
“Did the dahl’reisen build all this themselves?” he asked.
Sheyl nodded. “Many of them turn to gentler things to keep the darkness at bay. Some, like the dahl’reisen who fashioned these cabins, find peace working with Earth. Others prefer creating things without any magic at all.”
A woven vine bridge linked the cabin to another larger cabin nestled in a nearby tree. Sheyl led the way across the gently swaying bridge, and Rain guided Ellysetta after her, sending commands in Spirit to guide her feet.
“We are a village of outcasts,” Sheyl continued. “The mortals among us were either winded as children by the villages where we were born—or we are descendants of those who were.”
“Winded?” Rain repeated. “That’s a term I’m not familiar with.”
Ellysetta answered. “It’s a custom in many of the northern villages. When babies are born with deformities or dangerous magic, the villagers take them out to the woods and leave them for the winds to spirit away—which is just a pretty way of saying they abandon them to starve or be eaten by predators. Which is what Mama and Papa thought had happened to me when they found me abandoned in Great-wood as a child.”
“Your mother was so afraid of magic. I’m surprised she would adopt a child she already suspected must have dangerous powers.”
“Papa told me that when Mama was a little girl living in Dolan, her baby sister Bessinita was winded for having Fire magic. Bessie was only two when she was taken off to die. Papa said that was what made Mama take me in. When she looked at me, she saw her baby sister, and she couldn’t leave me to die.”
Rain noticed Sheyl frowning at Ellysetta. “Something is wrong? “
Sheyl’s frown cleared and became a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry. I was just thinking of all the poor children lost to such an evil custom.” She bent her head and continued walking at a brisker pace. “Your mate’s explanation of winding is correct. The Mage Wars left many scars here in the north. The remnant magic still lives in the ground, seeps into our water, our food, our bodies. Most of us born in the north possess some sort of talent, but usually it’s something small and unnoticeable—sensitivity to the emotions of others, a gift for growing things. In some of us, the magic is stronger, more pronounced. Or, the gift is something fearful. My mother had a vision in which she saw the death of a neighbor. She made the mistake of telling someone. When the neighbor died, my mother was blamed. She was seven months pregnant, but the villagers bound her arms and legs and left her in the forest to die. She was half-dead when Farel rescued her. She died in childbirth that same day.”
Ellysetta stopped walking. “You remember her death. You weren’t even born, but you remember it.”
The color left Sheyl’s cheeks. “Your gift is strong, Feyreisa. I’m usually much better at shielding my thoughts. Yes, I remember. And I remember that the vision for which my mother was killed was mine. She saw it because I lived in her belly.”
“Oh, Sheyl.” Ellysetta reached out blindly to clasp the other woman’s hands. “You believe you caused her death. How can you, a healer, still believe that? You were a baby, an innocent life.”
Tears filled Sheyl’s eyes and spilled over. She smiled and tried to pull her hands away. “I was right. Your gift is strong, but as I said, you should conserve your strength.”
“She does not realize she’s doing it,” Rain said quietly. “To her, she is merely sharing the love in her heart, as she has all her life.”
“Doing what?” Ellysetta asked. “What am I doing?”
“Healing, shei’tani. You are healing her. As instinctively as you read her thoughts a moment ago.”
Ellysetta released the other woman. “I’m sorry. Again.”
“I am not offended,” Sheyl answered. “You should not apologize for being what you are. Which is quite remarkable, you know. I’ve never met such a strongly gifted sensitive who could bear to walk within half a mile of this village, even with our shields.”
“Is that so surprising? You don’t seem to have any trouble living here among the dahl’reisen, and you have strong magical talents.”
“I’m not empathic. I sense disease and I see the flows of magic, but I cannot sense thoughts and emotions.” They had reached a hanging stair that led down towards the forest floor below. Sheyl paused. “Before we go down to Farel, there is someone I would like you both to meet.”
