Patrick S. Smith

DEATH's Holiday

The Seeress.  The stories about her are countless.  Who she is and where she comes from is shrouded in mystery.  People say she is the harbinger of good tidings or calamity.

A link to one of my stories

Returning Home

Stanson waded out into the lagoon. It was low tide, which meant that the water where he set the fish trap was only chest deep. Still, it took nearly all his energy to reach it. It had been three days since he had any fish or crab to eat and he didn’t have the strength to climb to get a coconut, much less open one.

When he reached the marker for the fish trap, he carefully pulled it up. He was weary of a repeat of one of the first times he pulled up a trap. The ray resting on top of the trap got startled and slapped Stanson on the hand with its tail. Luckily, the tip of the tail hit Stanson and not the barb, but still Stanson learned to be more careful.

He pulled up the trap and found it contained a single fish. It was not as large as he hoped, but at least he would have something more than roots and seaweed today. A joyous “Yes” erupted from him at his good fortune. With his trap in hand, he turned and made it back to the beach and home.

His home for many years was this small island, some fifty acres total. Stanson had become stranded on this little patch of land when the ship he had been on got caught in a storm and capsized. He and two other members of the crew were lucky and climbed into a dingy and weathered out the rest of the storm. The next day, they found themselves alone on the ocean, amidst a sea of wreckage.

For ten days, they drifted before the tiny boat washed up on the island. By that time, his two companions had died of thirst. Stanson would have joined them, if it had not been for another storm bringing rain.

The ship Stanson had been on, the RNS Sea Pixie, was a trading ship. During his time on board, he had traveled to various islands to pick up cargo for the Sea Pixie to carry to Pembroke. From there, they loaded her cargo onto larger ships to be shipped to other territories of the empire.

It was on these islands that Stanson had learned how the local natives survived without modern conveniences that had allowed him to survive.

Once back on shore, he carried the fish trap into the shade of the palm trees. There, he took his knife to clean the fish and skewered it on a bone needle and line so he could carry it back to his hut.

During Stanson’s short walk back to his hut, he kept looking up at the trees for any signs of fruit or bird nests. These were rare treats for him when they were available, but saw no indications today.

When he got back to his hut, he hung the fish on a tree while he started a fire. “At least I won’t die of starvation today,” he said to himself. Stanson tried several times to get a fire started and was about to give up when he met with success. After cooking and eating the fish, he laid down in the shade of his hut to rest through the most of the heat of the day.

While he rested, he thought he heard someone call out in the distance. It wasn’t intelligible and nearly drowned out by the waves lapping on the shore. Shaking his head, Stanson sat up. He first noticed that the fire he had built was a pile of embers and emitting smoke. Then he spotted what could be the source of the sound that had aroused him.

Not far from his island, Stanson spied a small ship. It was hard to make out its true size, but it was a single-masted vessel similar to the Sea Pixie, though smaller.

Stanson immediately stood and started jumping up and down, waving his arms. He tried to call out, but his voice was hoarse. He did this until he nearly dropped from exhaustion, but saw no sign anyone on the ship had spotted him as its single sail remained raised.

Fearing that they would leave him on the island to spend the rest of his days, Stanson frantically searched for something to signal the ship with. He immediately began tearing the thatching off of his hut and throwing it on the remains of the fire. It only took a moment for it to begin to smolder, producing a mass of smoke.

He took one of the fronds of the thatching that was smoldering and tried to run up wind with it, waving it about. They could dismiss one smoke signal as chance, but two could not. 

Almost as proof of this, the vessel turned towards Stanson. He fell to his knees, crying. After all those years alone and consigning himself, he would never see another person again, he was being rescued.

As the ship approached, Stanson could see a person on deck, steering the ship. When it was just outside the breakers, the crew lowered the sail. At this distance, Stanson could make out a smaller craft suspended on the stern. It was this smaller craft that the individual lowered into the water and began rowing to shore in.

The craft was a canoe of some sort, as it was long and thin with an outrigger to one side that made it more stable in the breakers.

On Stanson’s savior beached the canoe, he came over Stanson saying, “Good grief man, are you all right?”

Stanson threw himself at the stranger, wrapping his arms around him, nearly causing both of them to fall over. “Steady man, get a hold of yourself. Who are you? How did you come here?” The stranger grabbed Stanson by the arms and held him at arm’s length.

“Stanson, Earnest Stanson. I was bosun on the Sea Pixie before she was destroyed in a storm,” Stanson said in a weak, hoarse voice.

The stranger shook his head. “Never heard of the Sea Pixie. How long have you been here? It looks as if it has been an age.”

“Since Gninn, 1218.”

The man’s eyes grew large at this. “Good heavens. That was nearly twenty years ago. It is 17 Judi, 1237. Is there anyone else with you?”

Stanson lowered his head as he sobbed dryly. The stranger pulled Stanson to him and held him as if he was a child. “You poor soul. All is good now, as you are no longer alone. Let me get you back to the Eless. I’m sure the Captain will do all he can to get you home. And where is your home?”

“Pembroke.”

The stranger released Stanson and started leading him to the canoe. “Then this is truly your day. The Captain and I are bound for Port Pembroke. Or at least that is what your Pembroke is now called. We should have you home in a few days. I am Omar, by the way. First mate on the FS Eless and at your service.”

“Bless you and your Captain.”

Omar got Stanson settled in the front of the canoe before pushing it back out into the water and paddling back to the Eless. Once there, Omar hooked the canoe to a pair of tackle blocks before pulling in the outrigger.

“You stay here and I’ll hoist the canoe up so you don’t have to try to climb aboard.”

Since Omar and the Eless had found him, Stanson felt a weariness he had never known before come over him. He simply laid in the canoe and nodded to Omar. Once Omar had the canoe hoisted up and fully secured, he helped Stanson on to the deck of the Eless.

“Welcome aboard the Eless.”

Stanson looked around the deck, but didn’t see anyone else. “Where is the crew?”

Chuckling, Omar said, “It is just the Captain and me. The Eless was built for a crew of five, but really only needs one to sail. Come, I’ll show you to the crew’s quarters so you can rest, but I’ll bring you some food first.”

Omar helped Stanson to the foredeck and down the steps to the crew’s quarters. Inside, he found a small table with a pair of benches and a low hanging lamp. Set along the hull on either side of the room were a pair of bunks. Setting Stanson on the lower port side bunk, Omar said, “Give me a minute, and I’ll bring you some food.”

This left Stanson alone in the cabin, but Omar soon returned with a bowl of salt pork stew, some hardtack, and cheese. Even this was standard fare on a ship, but after twenty years of what Stanson had to eat on the island, this was a banquet of a feast. He ate voraciously, oblivious to his surroundings. He did not notice that Omar had left and returned bearing a pair of bottles, one of wine and the other water.

When he was eating, he asked Omar, “Can I speak with your Captain? I want to thank him for saving me and for the food.”

Omar shook his head. “I’m afraid not right now. Captain Mosi took ill a few days ago and has been bedridden. He is recovering though, and I expect to see him on deck in a day or two. You can thank him then.”

“Rest now. I need to get us on the way again.”

Stanson laid down and slept.

He awoke to Omar lighting the lamp that overhung the table in the cabin. His muscles were stiff and he was slow to move. “How long was I asleep?”

“Only through the night. I hope I didn’t wake you with the lamp,” Omar said.

“No. I feel like I need to get up and move around some.”

“Well, I washed a set of my clothes for you yesterday after we got underway. There on the table.”

Stanson nearly fell over when he went to stand up. “Looks like my sea legs are not what they once were. Thanks for the clothes.”

Omar chuckled a bit. “I’ll bring you some food and drink while you change. After you eat, come join me on deck when you feel you can stand.”

“I’ll do that.”

Stanson could tell when Omar opened the door that it was early morning or late evening. The sky was a dark reddish color. Although the ship was sailing on calm waters, its gentle rocking made standing for Stanson difficult. Eventually, he stood upright by holding on to the sideboard of the upper bunk. He practiced walking around the small cabin until he felt confident that he could set foot on deck.

When he opened the door, he could now tell it was morning as the sky was lighting up. Slowly, he made his way out the cabin door and up the three steps to the main deck proper. From there, he could see Omar on the aftcastle leaning over something next to the ship’s wheel. When Stanson looked out over the railings of the ship, he saw the same sight he had seen for nearly twenty years. 

An endless expanse of blue ocean. Yet, today, it somehow looked different to him.

Using the rail to steady himself some, he went to where Omar was. When he reached him, he saw Omar was writing in the ship’s log, which was on top of a map. “The Captain lets you write in his log?”

Omar twitch at Stanson voice. “It is the ship’s log, and it is common practice that the officer on duty makes entries in it. Not just the Captain. So what do you think of the Eless?”

“She seems like a fine ship. Hard to imagine that you can sail her by yourself.”

“Only because of her size. She has a few changes from what you are used to that make it easier to handle, but not as quick. For example, the sail is raised by a lever system. Come, I’ll show you.” He closed the logbook and slid the table it had been resting on underneath a second table before showing Stanson the control for the sail. It was an ingenious design where one man could do the work of four, but took twice as long to do so.

Omar continued to show Stanson other such innovations that reduced the number of men necessary to perform a particular task to just one. When they were done, Stanson said, “She truly is a fine ship.”

“She is, but you should see the innovations in Port Pembroke. You may not recognize it. Go back to our quarters and I’ll get us some lunch after I check on the Captain.”

“Very well then.”

Stanson made his way back to the cabin and, once inside, went straight to his bunk. He had not realized how tired he was from the simple excursion onto the deck. He had not realized he had fallen asleep until he awoke to find Omar standing over him.

“Captain Mosi has asked us to have lunch with him.”

“Ah, I finally get to thank him for rescuing me.”

The two men made their way to the Captain’s quarters. When they reached the door, Omar knocked before announcing themselves. A faint “Enter” could be heard through the door.

When they entered, Stanson looked all about the room. Less than half the size of the Captain’s quarters of the Sea Pixie, its walls were a pristine white. The bed, desk, table and chairs that adorned the room were all of a simple, practical nature. This simplicity gave the room a much grander feeling.

“Mr. Stanson,” came a voice from an open doorway to the side of the Captain’s quarters. “Please excuse me, I’m trying to finish preparing lunch. I hope roast lamb suits you. Please have a seat and I will join you in a moment.”

The table was set with a plate, cup, knife, and fork in preparation for lunch. Stanson took a seat near the head of the table, with his back to the open doorway. “I thank you for your hospitality, Captain Mosi. After twenty years on that island, even salt pork seems like a grand meal.”

“I’m glad we could save you. Mr. Omar says you served on the Sea Pixie. I am unfamiliar with that ship. Based on your tale, it would have been lost twenty years ago. I know of a presumed cursed ship out of Port Pembroke, the Sea Sprite. Reportedly, she had a sister ship that was lost, but no one will speak its name. Are you familiar with the Sea Sprite?”

Stanson’s mouth twitched at the Captain’s statement. It took him a moment to regain his composure. “Aye, I am. The Sea Pixie was her sister ship. You say the Sea Sprite is cursed?”

“Was cursed. She had a run of unfortunate accidents. Some superstitious fools attributed it to her sister being lost. In reality, her keel was too weak and her mast had a void in its base. She was a doomed ship from the start.”

Stanson’s back was to the Captain as he entered the room. His first sign that Captain Mosi was in the room was when he sat a tray of lamb on the table. “Welcome aboard the Eless, Mr. Stanson.”

To be proper, Stanson stood to face Captain Mosi to salute him. When he laid eyes on the Captain, he froze.

The Captain was a slight man who appeared to be ten to fifteen years younger than Stanson. What gave Stanson pause when seeing the Captain was the Captain’s face. Unlike Stanson and Omar, whose faces were a reddish tan from being out in the sun, the Captain’s face was white like the snow-capped mountains Stanson had seen inland from Pembroke. The irises of the Captain’s eyes were bright red.

The mere sight of the Captain sent Stanson stumbling back into the table. He fell over, knocking his place setting on the ground. He continued to push himself away from the Captain. “Stay away from me, you demon!” he screamed at the Captain as his hand came down around his knife.

Omar jumped up and said, “Man, have you gone mad? Calm yourself.” He came around to the side of the table where Stanson and the Captain were at.

By the time Omar had gotten around the table, Stanson was standing back up, brandishing the knife.

“Mr. Stanson, I can explain my condition,” the Captain said, taking a step towards Stanson.

Stanson swiped at the Captain saying, “Back!”

Omar lunged at Stanson, grabbing for the knife and knocking both down. The two men rolled on the deck, struggling for the knife. The Captain bellowed at them to stop. Finally, they stopped with Omar on top of Stanson. Blood pooling on the floor underneath them.

Slowly, Omar rolled off of Stanson. Stanson was still clutching the knife, which was now stained red. Across Omar’s stomach was a deep, long gash.

“Oh god. Oh god what have I done?” Stanson said as he pushed himself away.

The Captain immediately dropped to his knees beside Omar and put his hands over Omar’s wound. “Mr. Omar, hold on. Damn, hold on.” He lowered his head over his First Mate.

Stanson stood up and looked at the scene. Omar lay on the ground, gasping for breath as the Captain leaned over him.

Still wide eyed over all that transpired, Stanson stood motionless. Slowly, he looked down at his hands and saw he still held the knife. At that moment, he heard Omar take his last gasp.

“Return to the hell that spawned you!” Sanson said as he plunged the knife with both hands into the back of the Captain’s neck.

Stanson released the knife, still buried in the Captain’s neck, and stepped back until he reached the bulkhead. The Captain collapsed onto Omar’s body, his jaw moving like he was trying to say something, but no sound would come. Then he was still.

Once the Captain was dead, Stanson slid down the bulkhead until he was sitting on the deck. A shudder ran through his body when he locked eyes with Omar. The first person he had seen in twenty years, his savior, now lay dead. Stanson pulled his legs up to his chest and lowered his head as he started crying.

There he sat for an indeterminate amount of time. When he looked up, things were the same as when he put his head down. Captain Mosi still laid on top of Omar’s body on the deck of the Captain’s quarters.

“I am sorry, my friend. I couldn’t save you from this monster,” he said as he stood up. He walked over to where the bodies lay and pulled the Captain off of Omar. He dragged the Captain’s lifeless body out on the open deck and unceremoniously pushed it over the side into the ocean, the knife still buried in the Captain’s neck.

“Back to whatever hell spawned you.”

Stanson went back to the Captain’s quarters and rummaged around in the Captain’s possessions until he found what he was looking for. A pair of coins to put over Omar’s eyes. Once he had done that, he stripped the Captain’s bed of its linens and used them to carefully wrap Omar’s body.

Before tying off Omar’s shroud, Stanson searched the Eless for something to weigh it down. From underneath the hold, he removed a few of the ballast stones. These he tied together with spare netting and set it upon the deck while he retrieved Omar’s body.

After staging Omar for his final rest, Stanson ensured the coins were still over Omar’s eyes. He then set about securing the shroud and affixing the weight to Omar’s feet. When all was ready, Stanson said a silent prayer before pushing the weight into the sea. A second after the weight hit the water, it pulled Omar’s body overboard.

“Farewell, my savior. May the heavens accept you,” Stanson said. He stood there for several minutes in silence as the Eless continued on.

When Stanson finally stepped away, he immediately made a quick survey of the Eless and her provisions.

The galley was next to the Captain’s quarters and a pair of doors gave access not only to the main deck, but the Captain’s quarters as well. There he found the normal complement of utensils expected in such a galley besides a stove and a washbasin.

He then went back down into the cramped hold. The roof was a chaotic mess of ropes, pulleys and other mechanics that allowed one man to operate the Eless. Because of these workings, Stanson had to stoop to move around.

He found several casks, small crates and a side of cured pork hanging from a deck beam. Upon further inspection, he found some casks held fresh water while one held wine.

In the crates, he found food stores of dried bread and cheese. However, one crate held small bags filled with a reddish brown bark. He took a small piece of bark and put it to his tongue. After tasting it, he quickly spit it out.

“Cinamon.”

The last crate also contained small sacks. These sacks contained small, dried berries and when Stanson tasted one, it had a mix of flavors. Other than the two crates of spices, there didn’t seem to be much of value in the hold.

Going back on deck, he went to the aftcastle and the ship’s wheel. He pulled out the table where he had seen the map and log book. After a few minutes of study, he could make a fair guess where he was.

“Only two and a half days out from Pembroke, if I’m reading this right. Or at least that is how long the Sea Pixie would have taken. Hopefully, the sky will be clear tonight so I can get a better idea of my position,” Stanson said. Excitement growing in his voice.

Patting the wheel, he said, “Don’t worry, Eless. I’ll take care of you should no one have a claim on you. You might not be as big as some other traders, but I doubt many can match you for speed.”

With that, he secured the helm and went back down to the Captain’s quarters. He paused at the threshold for a moment before entering. As he stepped into the room, he shivered as he looked at the stain on the deck where Omar and the Captain had died.

“I need to clean that up, but first, something to eat.” He went over to the table and filled his plate with lamb, bread and dried fruits and vegetables. Then he filled one cup with wine from the cask that was sitting on the Captain’s desk. When he went to take a sip, he shivered again. “Wouldn’t be proper to eat here until I clean,” so he went back on deck and ate.

After he finished eating, he went back to the Captain’s quarters via the galley. Again, he shivered as he entered. He went through the Captain’s personal effect to find clothes to clean up the blood, which had started to dry. He pulled a shirt and pair of pants from the wardrobe, paying no heed to their workmanship as he threw them on the pool of blood.

He went back to the galley to get a bucket before going back on deck to fill the bucket. Once he had gotten the sea water, he then set about cleaning. It took him several hours and several refreshes of the water to get most of the stain removed from the whitewashed deck. Standing up, he said, “A fresh coat of whitewash will get the rest.”

That evening there was a clear sky, and he got a better fix on his position. His earlier calculations proved to be very close to where he actually was. So when he secured everything and went back to his bunk to sleep, it was with the joy of knowing he would be home in two days.

The next morning, he was up early to get one last fix on his position. The Eless had drifted some off his desired heading, but not so much that he would lose much time getting to Pembroke. A slight course change and all was well again. Other than periodically checking his course, the rest of Stanson’s day was uneventful.

Near dusk, Stanson thought he spied a black whiff of smoke against the red sky. Try as he might, he could not tell if it was real or just his eyes playing tricks. It seemed to him to come from the direction that Pembroke lay. He continued to stare at it until the sun went down and then he went to bed.

When the morning came and he went on deck, he was met with something he had never seen before.

Off the port side of the Eless was a ship like nothing he had ever seen. She appeared to be a large cargo ship with a large black mast that spewed a black smoke and on her side was a wheel-like device. Though this strange ship was moving faster than the Eless, it had no sails.

Stanson ran to the Eless’s wheel as watched the other ship. When he took charge of the wheel and looked out over the Eless’s bow, he found that the whiff of black smoke was still there, but had grown and thickened. It now appeared to be a column of black smoke rising to the heavens.

For the next several hours, Stanson maintained a course towards the column of black smoke. The other ship seemed to be heading for it as well. “Maybe all that smoke is coming from Pembroke,” he whispered to himself.

An hour later, Stanson sighted land. As he approached it, he recognized where he was at; Pembroke. Another hour more of sailing, he would be home.

As he drew closer to Pembroke, he noticed it had changed. The once merchant port now was a large metropolitan area. Throughout the harbor was a collection of lattice structures with a boom on them. Along the piers, several ships were docked. These ships were more akin to the one Stanson had seen earlier than the Eless.

Beyond the harbor area, a new, larger settlement had sprung up. There was an array of buildings that dwarfed anything he had seen before and in a kaleidoscope of colors. Everywhere he looked all over Pembroke, he saw chimneys billowing out black smoke. As came closer, he could see carriages and wagons moving along the streets and causeways with no horses.

Stanson had no sooner reached the entrance to the harbor, when a ship that looked like it could have been a twin for the Eless, if she did not have those wheels on her sides and that black pipe in place of a proper mast, approached. As this other ship approached, someone on deck called out to Stanson, “Ahoy! Lower your sail and drop anchor. The Governor wishes to come aboard.”

“One moment,” Stanson said as he pulled the lever to lower the sail. Once lowered, the Eless began slowing to a crawl. He then released the anchor, and she came to a stop with a slight groan of protest.

Stanson then ran down to the main deck to catch and secure the mooring lines from the other ship. Once Stanson had tied them off, the crew of the other ship lowered the gangplank. A stately dressed man came across, accompanied by two guards. He had over his eyes, two pieces of glass of a dark green color, suspended by metal frames that hooked over his ears. The glass was so dark that the Stanson could not make out what he was looking at or the color of his eyes.

“I am Governor Mardon. Who are you? Where do you come from and where is the crew of the Eless?”

Stanson licked his lips before saying, “I am Earnest Stanson, your Excellency. I was bosun on the Sea Pixie. She sank during a storm after leaving here twenty years ago and I spent all those years alone on an island. The crew of the Eless spotted me and rescued me.”

“Then it is good you are home and safe. But tell me, where is the crew?”

Licking his lips again, Stanson closed his eyes. After a deep breath, he said, “There was a demon posing as the Captain. It killed Mr. Omar before I could kill it. A horrible-looking thing. Its skin was a white like I’ve never seen and it had these sickening red eyes.”

The Governor’s mouth opened slightly as he pulled the metal frames off his face, revealing his bright green eyes, which were forming tears.

A link to one of my poems

WhAT iS MaDNeSs

Things My Mother Never Told Me

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A link to one of my poems - From my book "The Chaos of Me."

Old Poems

A link to one of my stories

Aran's Compassion, A Mother's Love

The first women of Aran were escaped slaves from Neria, lead by Skarah and Azyn. They first fled to Imneral where the elves there provided shelter and taught them to survive on their own…

…The elves eventually led them to Aran so they could live in freedom. There, these escaped slaves of Neria became the first Arnians and Skarah and Azyn became the first Ma’hals…

…In those early years, they remembered the people of the town and villages, led by men, who denied them aid and comfort on their long trek to Aran. But rather than bare unwonted malice to their neighbors, the Aranians show compassion and hospitality.

…The women of the tribes of Aran, led by the Ma’hals, openly accept any woman or child seeking refuge there…

–Master Dahor, Sage of ElhrubYear 403

A group of ten women, dressed in simple skirts, pants and tops of muted yellows, greens and browns, were heading home to the forest of Aran. They were carrying baskets on their backs as they had spent the early autumn day gathering berries from fields near the forest. The sun was behind them as they passed the first line of trees into Aran. Some of them gleefully talked about how they would preserve the berries the next day.

They had been following the trail back to their home about a mile, when Funi, the Ma’hal, stopped. She waved her hand horizontally, palm down, to stop and silence the others that were following her. Her dark brown eyes squinted as she seemed to scan for something. 

One of the others cautiously approached the Ma’hal and said, “What is it, Mother?” in a low whisper.

The Ma’hal shook her head before turning to her daughter. “I am not sure, Delea. I thought I heard crying.”

Funi was about to start off again when she clearly heard the crying again. It was faint, but unmistakably a baby crying in distress. 

“Mother, it came from the right.”

Funi pulled the basket off her back saying, “Delea, you, Kason and Brothya, come with me and help me find the child. The rest of you stay here, but out of sight.” In a few seconds, the four women had left the path and were looking for the source.

As they crested a slight rise, Funi found the source. Swaddled in a cream-colored blanket and partially concealed by a bush was a baby. Stains marked the blanket from where the child had relieved itself.

The Ma’hal set her atlatl down and picked up the child. “Don’t worry, child. Ma’hal Funi has you,” the Ma’hal said. She cradled and rocked the child gently, which calmed the child down. “There now. Let’s take a look at you and see about getting you clean.” With one hand, she undid the swaddling and set it aside before removing the child’s dress and revealing it was a girl. She looked the little girl over before using her shawl to cover the baby. “Until we find your name, I call you Forvitni.”

The other three women joined Funi. “I could find no tracks, Ma’hal,” Brothya said.

“Neither could I,” said Kason.

“Then it may be someone with some knowledge of the woods. Kason and Brothya, leave your water skins and return to the others. Let them know we found a baby and tell them to return to the camp. Brothya, bring back four more skins and my basket.”

“Kason, get a turndun and let the camp know we need a wet nurse. I doubt this girl has been fully weaned yet. Stay at the trail to watch for help and lead them here.”

“Delea, get a fire started, then start making a camp.”

Kason asked, “Shouldn’t we try to get something else to eat?”

“There are enough berries in my basket to last until tomorrow midday. The wet nurse should bring some food also, but we can look for more after we get a fire and camp,” Funi said as she sat down with the girl.

Delea took the waters skins from Kason and Brothya as they nodded to Funi and set off to the others.

“Mother, is it safe for the girl to camp out here after being left alone? How long was she out here?” Delea asked.

Funi’s shoulders dropped as she shook her head and lowered her face. “I don’t think more than half a day, but I am not sure. Once we see how much she eats, we may have a better idea. Once we have a fire, some shelter and bedding, Forvitni should be alright for the night. It is fortunate we found her.”

“Now, get to your task.”

Delea nodded to her mother and immediately went to gather wood for a fire. Left alone with Forvitni, Funi tried to give the little girl some water from a water skin before cleaning her.

The sound of the wind in the trees and chirping birds made for a tranquil moment in Aran. The chopping and breaking of wood and the occasional whimper by Forvitni interrupted this. Soon, a turndun broke the sounds of the forest and the Aranian’s activity. Its buzzing and droning sent birds flying from the trees to more placid parts of the forest. Funi intently listened to the irregular rhythms of the turndun.

Funi looked down at Forvitni and said, “Listen, we are calling for aid for you.”

Soon, Brothya returned with the basket and water skins. In addition, she had a pair of hunting spears. “I would have been back sooner, Ma’hal, but the others wanted to debate about returning home. They wanted to join us, but Kason and I convinced them otherwise. Also, Lina is irate about the girl being abandoned,” she said as she set the supplies down.

Funi sighed before saying, “We all are, just some of us put our anger in the right place. For now, we must do our duty and ensure that Forvitni is safe and well cared for. How did you convince the others to return?”

“I agreed to bring you a couple of spears, a second basket, four full skins and a few shawls.” A smile crossed her face as she said this.

“I see but one basket.”

“Kason will bring yours with the wet nurse.”

Funi’s eyes narrowed at Brothya. “Where did you learn to persuade people like that?”

“From Funi, before she became Ma’hal.” Both women laughed a little at this.

“Hand me the basket, then go help Delea.”

After handing Funi the basket, Brothya left to help Delea. Funi removed the bandana that held her graying hair tied back and spread it out on her lap. Then she opened the basket and pulled a handful of berries out and placed them on the bandana. Seeing this, Forvitni started kicking her legs and whining. “Oh, I see you’ve had berries before. Give me a moment and I’ll give you some,” Funi said.

She sorted through the berries and found a soft raspberry and crushed it in her fingers until it became a pulp. Taking the pulp, Funi placed some on Forvitni’s lips. The girl thrust her tongue on to her lips to get at the raspberry paste. Funi let the child do this for a few seconds before attempting to give her more. This time, Forvitni opened her mouth, inviting Funi to put the paste in her mouth.

Funi repeated this several times. Even though Forvitni seemed to push more out of her mouth than she actually ate, seeing her eat eased Funi some. While Funi was smashing a blackberry, Delea and Brothya returned with firewood and some long limbs to start building a shelter with.

After setting the firewood down, Delea cleared a space for their campfire. Once satisfied with space, she pulled aside some smaller sticks from the woodpile and set them aside before reaching into her pouch. From there, she produced a cattail, a leather wrap, and a pair of stones. One stone, the larger, was about the size of her palm and flat except for a shallow bowl like indention. It also had a leather thong attached to it.

Funi made a clicking noise at her daughter and said, “It is good you have a hearthstone, but cattail is notorious for use as a tender. Birch bark would be better.”

Delea turned to face her mother. “Cattail by itself is, but bind it with some resin and it is as good as birch, and easier to take a spark, or as I have been taught.”

Funi watched closely as her daughter unrolled the leather wrap, revealing a small glob of pine resin. Delea then used her knife to scrape some off, before setting the wrap aside and folding it over once. She then spread the resin onto the hearthstone before breaking the end of the cattail. Using her knife, she worked the fluff into the resin on the hearthstone.

Once satisfied, Delea took her flint and struck it with her knife. On the second strike, she got a good spark followed by flame.

Funi smiled at Forvitni. “You see my clever daughter? She showed her mother a trick to make a fire. Maybe one day, she will teach you that trick. Now, since you don’t seem to care for blackberries, let’s see about some blueberries.”

While Delea had been working on a fire, Brothya had set a long limb between two branches and rested several others across the first one. Upon this framework, she piled tree branches containing leaves and pine needles. Now that Delea had the fire going, she assisted Brothya by gathering more branches and taking the ones too small to fit on the frame and using them for bedding.

As the shelter was being built, Funi fed Forvitni a few more berries before giving her a little water from one of the skins. “That is enough for now. Don’t want you to get a bellyache. But not to worry, we have a friend coming who will get you something else.”

“Though we are not the friends you expect, can we offer assistance?” said an aelf twenty feet away. She and her companion wore the typical browns and greens the elves wore when hunting in the forest, and they were each carrying a bow and spear. However, instead of a satchel they would normally carry, these two elves had backpacks.

Delea and Brothya stopped working and faced their guests, who now approached them. “I am Funi, the Ma’hal. This is Brothya and Delea, my daughter,” Funi said in Imneralian. The other two Aranians nodded at the elves when Funi said their names. “Please forgive me for not getting up to greet you properly, but I’m trying to keep this little one settled. You are a bit far west to be hunting this time of the year.”

The elf said in Nerian, “If we were hunting, yes. This is my wife Meorise and I am Rolim, and we greet you, Ma’hal. We were heading to the western edge of Aran to watch for pilgrims when we heard a call for help. Is there something we can aid you with?”

Funi pursed her lips together for a moment before responding. “We found this girl abandoned here, but could find no tracks.”

“And you wish to return her?” asked Meorise, tilting her head. “That does not sound like an Aranian. I thought you welcomed all children. I don’t want to think what Aran was like before you came, with all those children left to die here.”

Shaking her head, Funi said, “I have no intention of returning Forvitni. To do so would dishonor us. But had I not heard her, she would have joined those poor souls you spoke of. We found her hidden under a bush as if whoever left her there didn’t want her to be found.”

Hearing this, Meorise started physically shaking. Her husband reached out and put his hand on her shoulder. “Calm yourself, Meorise.”

She jerked away from Rolim. “Calm myself? How can I? We are now witness to the cruelty that some humans have. That child has done nothing and someone tried to condemn her to death. I am sorry Ma’hal for doubting you.” After nodding to Funi, Meorise buried her face and hands into her husband’s chest.

“Excuse her, she is with child.”

Funi let a slight smile crease her lips. “That is good news and I think we needed some after the events this evening. I know the Mothers will bless you and your child.”

“But Meorise, you were partly correct. I am of two minds. One is to return home in the morning. The other is to find where Forvitni came from and give her name, her real name, back to her.”

The elves raised their eyebrows at hearing this. “So you don’t even know her name and would consider going home without learning it?” Meorise asked.

Brothya put her hands on her hips and said, “I have never heard of a child being abandoned to us without at least knowing their name. But Ma’hal, neither Kason nor I could find any tracks, so how are we to supposed to find Forvitni’s home?”

Funi held her free hand up to Brothya as she turned her head to face her. “The sun was going down, and we were more focused on finding Forvitni than trying to find tracks. I believe there is a pond near here. I had planned on bathing Forvitni and washing her dress and blanket before we left. In that time, you and the others could look again.”

The two elves looked at each other for a second before turning back to the Aranians. “If you would allow us to camp with you, my wife and I can help in trying to find Forvitni’s home. We can afford to help for a few days before we must be ready to greet pilgrims.”

Before anyone could say a word, Forvitni let out a squeal of glee. Funi laughed as she looked down at the little girl. “So you approve, do you? You are not Ma’hal, so you don’t get to decide. However, I agree. Even if aelves weren’t such excellent trackers, another pair of eyes wouldn’t hurt.” She then looked back up at the elves. “Please join us, and thank you for offering to help.”

“It is an honor to help a friend,” Meorise said as she nodded her head. “I think I hear your other help coming.”

It was only a few minutes before Kason and another woman came down the rise to the camp. The woman with Kason was several inches taller and was carrying a pack and a couple of water skins. The two women soon joined the others by the campfire.

“I’ve come as requested, Ma’hal,” the woman said. “I hope all is well with the girl.”

Funi looked at her and nodded. “She seems to be fine other than being hungry, Chana. I managed to feed her some berries.” Chana was flush and sweaty while her breathing was quick and deep, as if she had been running. “Rest for a bit and catch your breath. Forvitni is calm for now. Did you run here?”

Chana unslung her pack and water skins before sitting down next to Funi. “Thank you, Ma’hal. I did run some. Some others at the camp bade me to make haste to you and packed the satchel while I got the water skins. Do you know anything about her?”

“Very little, other than she does not care for blackberries,” Funi said, shaking her head. “When we found her, all she had was her dress and blanket. Whoever left her partially hidden under a bush had her swaddled tightly so she couldn’t move.”

“Then let us see what we have for the child.” Chana opened up her pack. She reached in and pulled out a large blanket. “I think they meant for us,” she said as she set the blanket aside. Reaching back in, she produced a second, rolled up, blanket. Chana unrolled it, showing it was a baby blanket with a baby dress in the middle. “Ah, Forvitni. They packed you a new dress. What do you think of it?” Chana said as she held up the dress.

In response, Forvitni made a gurgling laugh.

“I am glad you like it. We’ll put it on you before you go to bed for the night,” Funi said.

Continuing to examine the contents of the pack, Chana pulled out a carry sling and a short leather thong with beads attached to it so that it rattled when moved. “It looks like the rest is food for us,” she said as she lifted the pack to judge its weight. “Enough for us for a day. We weren’t aware that aelves were here also, or I’m sure they would have packed more.”

Meorise looked at the pair and said, “We appreciate your sentiment. Rolim and I are going to greet pilgrims, so we have our own supplies. We heard the Ma’hal’s request for help and offered to assist.”

Hearing this, Chana nodded and turned back to Funi. “Let me take Forvitni now,” she said, reaching out to take the child. “May I ask what your intent is, Ma’hal?”

Handing Forvitni over to Chana, Funi pursed her lips slightly. “There is a pond and stream near here. In the morning, you and I will take Forvitni and her things there to wash and bathe before we return home.”

“But as we do not know the child’s real name, the others will look again to see if they can find any tracks. Meorise and Rolim have been gracious enough to offer to help in that. Should they find any, you and Brothya will take Forvitni home, while the rest of us will go and try to find her real name.”

Brothya stopped what she was doing and cocked her head at Funi. “I should go with you. Delea can escort Chana home. You would benefit from having experienced people with you.”

“And how did you come by your experience? A great deal of it came from watching and listening. Yes, you coming would help me, but Delea needs to learn as well. As long as she listens to Kason and me, all should be well.”

Brothya was silent as she closed her eyes and gave a small nod of her head. “As you wish, Ma’hal. Though you have not said it, I agree we should not take Forvitni home. I fear that could cause problems.”

The three other Aranian women each said, “Aye,” echoing Brothya’s thoughts.

Funi nodded. “I see your council agrees with my intent on that matter. Which leaves one last issue.”

“Meorise, Rolim. If we happen to find tracks to Forvitni’s home, I ask that you stay out of sight. Some people in this area are suspicious of your kind, and I do not wish to see it sour more.”

The elves had just finished their shelter when Funi spoke to them. “We are aware of how some view us and we will be careful. Thank you for your concern, Ma’hal,” Rolim said.

By this point in the discussions, Chana had started feeding Forvitni, and the others had finished the shelter. The women and the elves then sat down around the campfire and passed around a berry basket and the other foods they had brought with them. They ate in relative silence so not to disturb Forvitni, who was falling asleep.

Once Forvitni was sound asleep, Funi and Chana cleaned her again and dressed her in her new dress before swaddling her in the fresh blanket they had for her. Both women went to the shelter with Forvitni and settled themselves. “Delea, you take the first watch, followed by Kason. Brothya, wake us with the first light.”

“Not to upset your plans or your generosity, but I’ll take the first watch,” Rolim said. “Delea can rest with Meorise until it is her turn. Better to do it in four turns rather than three.”

Funi gave a short set of nods to Rolim and said, “If that is what you wish. Delea, you take the watch from Rolim.” She then laid down, after Forvitni and Chana settled down.

Early the next morning, Funi awoke to find Brothya, Chana, and the elves were already awake. The light from the sun was just breaking through the trees. The elves were stowing their gear while Chana was nursing Forvitni. This left Brothya to tend the fire and prepare a quick breakfast for the others.

Seeing that Funi was now awake, Chana said, “Forvitni does seem to like berries, Ma’hal. I got her to take a couple of blackberries with no fuss.”

Funi tilted her head at hearing this. “That is good to hear. I tried to give her one last night. She took it, but didn’t seem to care for it. How old do you think she is?”

Chana rubbed her forehead as she looked down at Forvitni. “She doesn’t seem to be teething and her arms and knees show no wear. I think she was born in the spring. Maybe six months.”

“I am thinking about the same.”

Meorise stopped what she was doing and said, “I could never understand why some humans would abandon a child like her. There are other options than to leave her to die like that.”

“We are from different worlds with different views and practices. Just as many humans do not understand your love affairs and partners.”

“The reasons I have heard are many, and none makes sense to me. I think if you were to travel all of Aran and ask every Aranian, you still wouldn’t have a concise answer. I know you view it as a barbaric practice, and I agree. What matters at this moment is we found her and now she has a chance at a full life.”

“Then Ma’hal, let us finish here and see if we can give her a gift to enjoy that life with. Her true name,” Rolim said with emphasis. 

Funi awoke the others, and they had a quick breakfast of berries and a bite of sweet bread that the elves provided. When they were done, Delea and Kason packed what supplies they thought they may need for the day’s journey, should they find the tracks of the one who abandoned Forvitni. 

As Funi and Chana left to go bathe Forvitni and wash her old clothes, Meorise and Rolim started searching the area.

The pond that they were heading for was not far off and full of reeds. There were a few places that were free of reeds that were large enough for the women to bathe Forvitni and wash her dress and blanket. One such area had a stone just below the surface of the water that Chana set Forvitni on. When she did, the girl squealed with displeasure and squirmed to get out.

“I think someone does not like baths, Ma’hal.”

“Then you should make it quick. We don’t want to upset her too much,” Funi said with a laugh, as she beat Forvitni’s things on a rock to clean. When she had them cleaned to her liking, she found a branch of a tree to dry. “It seems like it will be a warm day, so it shouldn’t take her clothes long to dry.”

“Aye, but what I could see of the sky this morning it was red. We may have a storm coming in.”

Funi cocked her head. “All the more reason for you to get Forvitni back home. Come, let us go back to the others. I’ll return for Forvitni’s things later.” As the two made ready to return to their camp, Funi stopped to pick a few cattails and put them in her pouch.

When they reached the camp, Kason was the only one there but greeted them with good news. “Meorise and Rolim think they have found tracks. Now what we know we are looking for, Brothya and I can track them.”

“Good, but where is everyone?”

“The aelves are scouting ahead and Brothya is showing Delea how to follow these tracks. They should return shortly.”

“In which direction did they go?” Funi asked.

Kason pointed along the base of the rise. “That way, between the route you took to the pond and the trail we were using yesterday.”

Funi walked over to the remains of the fire and began tamping it out. “While we wait for them to return, let us start making ready to go. We will leave the shelter up. There may be foul weather later today and will stop here if there is.”

The three women set about their task and were nearly complete when all but Meorise returned. The three approached with a slow, measured pace. “Is something wrong?” Funi asked when she saw them approach.

“We lost the tracks, Mother. They crossed a stream and we couldn’t pick them back up.” Delea hung her head. “We failed.”

Brothya’s face darkened in response. “No, we did not fail. We only found one set of tracks, those leading here. We know someone brought Forvitni here, so there has to be a second set of tracks leading away. Whoever brought her here either tried to conceal their leaving, or left by another path.”

“It may be that whoever we are looking for used the stream to hide their path. Meorise is still looking there while we look again, here, for other tracks,” Rolim said, nodding in agreement with Brothya.

Funi narrowed her eyes some. “Delea, while there is a chance, then we must seize it. Brothya, you and Chana go ahead and return home. The rest of us will search again and join with Meorise.”

“Yes, Ma’hal,” Chana and Brothya said together and started gathering what they were to take back to their home. After they said their farewells, they departed.

The remaining four scoured the camp and the surrounding area, looking for more tracks, but did not find any useful ones. Delea and Rolim stopped searching and stood up, as if listening for something. Delea started to say something when Rolim waved his hand for her to be quiet.

A moment later, Delea asked in a lowered tone, “Was that Meorise?”

Rolim beamed a smile at the others. “It was. She has our quarry’s tracks again.”

“I heard nothing but a bird,” Kason said.

“It was a sage thrush,” Rolim said. “A bird that would not be in the woods and also would have already gone north for the coming winter. Meorise imitated its call to signal us.”

“Rolim, we need to go back to the pond to get Forvitni’s things before we join up with your wife. I left them there to dry after washing them. Let me have your wife’s pack.”

Rolim reached down and picked both of the elves’ packs up, saying, “Very well, Ma’hal” After handing his wife’s pack to Funi, he then shouldered his own. The other two women quickly grabbed the remaining supplies from their camp and made ready to leave.

The group made its way back to the pond where Funi retrieved Forvitni’s blanket and dress while the others refilled the water skins. From there, they made their way around the pond to a game trail on the other side of the stream that drained the pond. Once they reached the trail, Rolim stopped and examined the ground and plants. It only took him a moment for him to find what he was looking for. “Meorise is this way,” he said, pointing to the south-west. 

As they followed the trail, they would periodically stop so Rolim could look for more signs from his wife that they were on the correct trail. Sometimes when they halted, Delea would assist Rolim looking for markers and study what Meorise had left for them to follow.

On the fourth such pause in their trek, Rolim asked Delea, “Have you worked with elves before? You recognized my wife’s call and you seem to find her marks without too much difficulty.”

“Her bird call sounded… wrong,” Delea said as her face grimaced and she twirled her hands. “When I heard it, even though it sounded like a bird, I knew it wasn’t a bird. The rhythm was wrong. The rhythm reminded me of a turndun.”

“As for her marks, they just seem out of place. I can’t explain it other than they don’t look right, but they don’t tell me anything other than we are on the right path.”

Funi and Rolim both nodded. “That says volumes, my daughter. You know she passed this way tracking who ever left Forvitni. That knowledge alone would allow us to follow her, even without Rolim’s aid.”

“And now that you’ve seen her mark, what does it tell you?” Rolim asked.

Delea looked at what she thought was Meorise’s mark. It was a vine draped between two trees that ran parallel to the trail. “I think she is saying we continue to follow the trail,” Delea said, biting her lower lip.

Nodding in approval, Rolim said, “Yes, but how far?”

“To the edge of Aran? No, that can’t be right. She couldn’t have gone to the edge and back so fast.”

Rolim reached out to the vine and fingered one leaf near the tree in the direction they were to go. A split ran from its point to its spine. “There is a fork in the path up ahead. That is where we will find her next mark.”

“Rolim, you should be careful what you teach her. She is clever as she figured out on her own cattail and resin makes for a good fire starter,” Kason said, laughing.

Funi’s eyes narrowed at her daughter. “We will have words later about that. For now, let us catch up with Meorise.”

Again, they set off along the trail, walking in single file. It was late morning and the air in the forest was cool and would have made for a pleasant journey if not for the weight of their quest. To both the Aranians and the elves, a person’s birth name was invaluable, especially a child’s. The Aranians viewed it as a link to their past and a parent’s hope of who the child may become. For the elves, it was something more, something much deeper.

The fork in the trail was only thirty or forty yards from the last marker Meorise had left them. It only took a moment for Delea and Rolim to find the markers. “Now, we wait for Meorise. She is checking the southern fork.”

While the three women waited, Rolim examined the ground along the trail. He had just bent down to look at a second spot when his head snapped up a split second before a cry of “Aye,” rang out. Rolim stood up with a grin on his face.

Shortly afterwards, Meorise ran up to the fork. She was sweating and her breathing was heavy. “You’ve caught up with me. Good,” she said between deep breaths.

“Yes. You left an easy trail for us to follow. But why hurry?” Rolim asked.

Meorise closed her eyes and nodded. “Water first.”

Funi handed her one of the water skins. After taking a sip, Meorise took a handful and splashed it on her face. “Are you hurrying so you can meet the pilgrims?”

After taking another sip of water and while rubbing some on the back of her neck, Meorise said, “No. It is a fear that Forvitni’s name will disappear on the wind.” She took another sip of water. “I see signs a storm may be coming and did not want to lose the trail. Fortunately, the tracks become clear on the other side of the stream.”

“Then once you have rested, we can resume,” Kason said.

Shaking her head, Meorise said, “No, I am good. I was in more need of water than rest. Thank you for bringing my pack. I can take it now.”

“I’ll carry it a while longer so you can rest some,” Funi said, holding up her hand. “We appreciate what you are doing for Forvitni. If you are ready, let us resume.”

With that, they set off down the southern fork. They crossed over the stream shortly thereafter, and as Meorise had said, their quarry’s tracks were clear. So much so that Delea and Kason could track them easily. They continued along the trail, and after about an hour, they emerged from Aran near a well-worn cart path.

Here, the tracks were again easy to follow. Delea and the elves quickly picked them back up and they lead towards a small farming village a few miles from the forest. 

It was now late afternoon, and the group stopped to rest where the tracks turned down a second cart path.

“I know this village and they are none too keen on aelves. So, I think this is where we part company. Again, we thank you for your help,” Funi said, handing Meorise her pack.

“No. Unless my wife chooses otherwise, we will wait for you here. We are too caught up in this not to know Forvitni’s true name.”

As an answer to Rolim, Meorise put her pack on the ground and sat down next to it. “I would say we would accompany you to the town, but I sense you think our presence would cause problems, so we will wait here.”

“Then we share a meal before the three of us go to Stavir,” Funi said as she helped her daughter take her pack off. Soon the five had a short quick meal of berries and dried venison that Chana had brought the evening before. When they were done, the elves wished them good luck as the Aranians made ready and set off to Stavir.

As the three women walked along the cart path, the tall prairie grasses soon gave way to taller stalks of wheat. The not quite ripe, the wheat rippled in the slight breeze, giving the illusion of a great green and yellow sea.

When the women were close enough to Stavir to make out the people, they noticed four women, dressed in the greens and browns of the Aranians, among the villagers. They seemed to be trading with the villagers, as one of them would gesture towards various sacks and baskets on the ground near the center of the village. One woman in the village spied Funi and her companions. She pointed to them and said something to the Aranians, which ceased their negotiations.

As Funi, Kason and Delea entered Stavir, the woman and the Aranian, who Funi now recognized as another Ma’hal, approached them.

“This should be a fine day. Two Ma’hals to grace our village. I am Aysel and I bid you welcome,” the villager said in the local language of Guician. Unlike most of the other village women, she was almost as short as an elf, and heavyset, with a blue dress draped over a light blue top.

The other Ma’hal reached out to embrace Funi and said, “I am Ma’hal Indira and I am pleased to greet you, sister. I am nearly done negotiating with Aysel, so you shouldn’t have long to wait to trade.” Indira was a little taller than Fuin and about the same age. A warm smile lit up her face.

When Funi and Indira separated, Funi shook her head and said, “I am Ma’hal Funi and we did not come to trade, so you need not hurry. We came here seeking an answer to a question.”

“What question would bring a Ma’hal here for an answer?” asked Aysel as she tilted her head and drew it back some.

Funi reached into her satchel and drew out Forvitni’s blanket and dress. “We seek the name of the child who these belong to.” She then presented them to Aysel and Indira.

Aysel took the dress and looked at it, turning it over several times. Finally, she turned to the mill house and called out, “Pertev. Pertev, come here, please.”

Soon, a woman in her late twenties came out. The white of fresh ground flour stained her face and dress, which she tried to clean off as she approached Aysel and the others.

“You called for me, Aysel?”

“Yes, Pertev. Ma’hal Funi brought us this dress and wanted to know the child’s name. Is this not Takwin’s dress and blanket? And where is Takwin? I have not seen her or seen you leave to tend to her.”

Pertev’s eyes avoided everyone as she turned her head to look away from the blanket and dress. “Yes, it is Takwin’s. But didn’t my husband tell you her name when he took her to you yesterday?” Tears traced her face as she asked the question.

Funi nodded her head slowly before saying, “So, Forvitni’s true name is Takwin. Thank you.” She then turned to Aysel and Indira and bowed slightly. “I now have the answer I sought. Thank you for…”

“What in the hells is going on?” a man bellowed, cutting Funi off. The four women looked in the direction of the mill house where the sound came from. Striding towards them was a man about Pertev’s age, also covered in flour. “What have you done to my wife?”

“Ledbic, they came to ask what Takwin’s name was. That is all,” Pertev said. When he reached the group, she wrapped her arms around him and put her head on his chest.

“Stupid witches, can’t remember a simple name and have to come here and make a scene.” His voice had an edge to it, as if he was trying to belittle Funi.

Funi’s tanned face flushed red. “You did not leave your Takwin with us. You left her in Aran, off the known paths swaddled and hidden under a bush. There was no attempt to leave her with us. Had I not heard Takwin crying, she would have died there.” A righteous fire burned in Funi’s eyes as she confronted the man who had abandoned Takwin.

Hearing this, Pertev and Aysel looked first and Funi and then Ledbic. His wide eyes spoke volumes to them. He responded by saying, “I left Takwin with a woman. She said she was an Aranian and would take her.”

“There was no woman. There was only one set of tracks to where I found her. A man’s.”

 In Nerian, Indira asked Funi, “Are you sure?”

“Yes. A pair of aelves can confirm,” Funi responded in Nerian.

“A Ma’hal would only speak full truth in such a case,” Indira said to the group in Guician. This caused Pertev to release Ledbic and run off.

Ledbic reached out to grab his wife, saying, “Pertev. Pertev, wait.”

“Someone, go with her,” Aysel called out to the other villagers.

Seeing his wife run into one of the buildings of the village, Ledbic spun back on Funi, who was still glaring at him. He drew his hand back to hit Funi, but found the knob end of Indira’s atlatl in his chest.

“You would strike a Ma’hal whose ire you’ve incurred and earn the wrath of a second Ma’hal?” Indira said to Ledbic. Winter winds were warmer than the voice she used towards him. The other Aranians quickly came to the two Ma’hals’ aid. By this point, the spectacle in the village center had drawn several onlookers. Ledbic looked around, but saw no one coming to his aid, so he lowered his hand slowly.

“What say you, Ma’hal Funi?” Indira asked, her voice now more normal than a moment ago.

Turning around, Funi said, “We are through here.” She then began walking out of the village, followed by Indira and the other Aranians.

“What about our trade?” Aysel asked.

Indira repeated, “We are through here.”

The seven Aranians walked in silence along the cart path by the wheat fields. The last sounds of the commotion from the village had faded when Indira walked beside Funi and said, “I will not openly go against another Ma’hal in front of outsiders, but I would like to know your mind, Funi. Are you forsaking the village?”

Funi took a couple of deep breaths. “I am sorry for spoiling your trade. You may do as you wish. You do not need to follow me. I wish no ill will on the villagers, nor will I forsake them if they are in need. Save for Ledbic.” Funi spit after saying his name.

“And what of Pertev and her daughters?”

Funi looked at Indira. “Daughters? No matter. I believe they and Pertev had no more hand in Takwin’s abandonment than the others. I will not abandon them.”

Indira made a slight smile. “Then we are of a like mind. I have long wanted to abandon Ledbic, and now I have cause to.” She, too, stopped to spit when she said his name. “He is a brute, that one, and forgive me, it was good to see him shamed that way.”

“But answer me this: if Pertev seeks us, would you accept her?”

Funi stopped walking and looked at Indira. “You question my duties as a Ma’hal?”

“No. Takwin is of your tribe. If Pertev wished to join any tribe but yours, would you acknowledge it? And what of Takwin?”

After a heavy sigh, Funi said, “Damn our ways at times. Takwin is of my tribe and there she will be until she is sixteen, unless the Coven overrules me. If Takwin was old enough to move freely with the other children, I would ask that Pertev join my tribe. Mother and child should be together, but I cannot ask a mother, even a surrogate, to give up a child. So, for that reason, I hope Pertev does not wish to join my tribe.” Funi then resumed walking.

Indira closed her eyes and nodded. “Yes, our duties sometimes bind us too tightly. I would like to see Pertev be reunited with Takwin if Pertev joins us. But I, like you, don’t see a path to that end without straying from the path that we have walked for centuries. It may be time for some of us to do like Skarah, Azyn and the first of us and set our own paths.”

“Maybe we don’t see the path yet. Or both. Ultimately, we will endure as Skarah and Azyn did when they fled Urosa to come here. They faced more than we do and gave rise to us.”

“Full truth sister.”

Once the two Ma’hals had begun talking, the other women in their party made introductions to one another and talked amongst themselves. Their chatter made for a scene of close friends renewing old relationships. Their banter lightened the mood as they walked back to the crossroad.

Meorise and Rolim were there to greet them. “Indira, this is Meorise and Rolim, the aelves I spoke of. Meorise and Rolim, this is Ma’hal Indira. She and her party were in town trading when we arrived.” 

The three exchanged proper greetings before Meorise asked eagerly, “Were you able to discover Forvitni’s true name?”

After the events in the village, Meorise’s eagerness caused both Funi and Indira to laugh. It took them a moment to regain composure enough to respond.

“Yes. Forvitni’s real name is Takwin. Though I would have liked to have gotten more information about her from her mother, but other things prevented that,” Funi said.

“Meorise, Rolim, and Funi, you must excuse us, but since we did not complete our trading in Stavir, we must return home. Farewell to you all, and you, my sister. If you need council, we are camped near Three Ponds.”

 “Farewell to you, Indira. I welcome you to come visit the Twisted Tree where we are camped,” Funi responded as she reached out to embrace Indira. The rest said their farewells before the two groups went their separate ways.

As Funi and the others head back to their home in Aran, she explained to the elves what had transpired. Short of Ledbic threatening to hit Funi, the elves reacted little to what had transpired.

Rolim expressed his concern for Funi by asking, “Do you think Takwin’s father will try anything since you humiliated him in public like that? I know some humans would do such a thing. Your own history with Neria shows that.”

Delea’s eyes widened when she heard Rolim’s question. “Mother, do you? What are you going to do if he does?”

Kason put her hand on Delea’s shoulder. “Have confidence in your mother, Delea. She is not one to take unnecessary risks or ignore dangers. That is why she is Ma’hal.”

“Be a bit more observant, child,” Funi said. “When he threatened to hit me, you, Indira, and the others moved to intercede on my behalf. No one interceded for him, so he backed down. He lacks the courage to face me head on. If he tries anything, it will be in secret. To defeat that, I only must be aware. I refuse to give in to him by cowering.”

“But tell me, daughter, why did you not tell me you figured out combining cattail and resin made for a good fire starter?”

Delea’s eyes darted around as she bit her lower lip. It was when her mother turned to look back at her she finally answered. “I thought you might chastise me for it because no one else knew of it. By saying I learned it from someone, I knew you would let me continue.”

“Child, have confidence in yourself. Had you told me you had done it before, or explained how it was supposed to work, I would have let you proceed. I might be skeptical and question whether it would work, but you proved it would.” While she was talking to Delea, Funi had reached into her satchel and produced the two cattails she had picked that morning and showed them to Delea. “I am delighted my youngest has something to teach me. Now tell me, have you tried adding birch bark to the resin or other combinations?”

“I have not, only because I didn’t see the need,” Delea said, looking directly at her mother. She had a slight smile on her face from teaching her mother something. “I have thought of making a batch large enough for several fires, but haven’t figured out a good way to carry it. Resin spreads out so easily in a wrap. I don’t think that way will work.”

When the group reached the entrance to Aran, Funi stopped for a moment to look at the sky. It was now late afternoon and dark clouds were gathering in the east. The air was getting heavy.

 “Tonight we will camp where we found Takwin. It will be easier than trying to beat the storm, and it won’t take us long to get home in the morning,” she said before entering Aran.

Not long after they had entered the forest, the air lightened, but the forest was eerily silent. The only sound heard was the light wind in the trees and the occasional crunch of a twig on the path being stepped on.

When the group reached the fork where Meorise had rejoined them this morning, the elves stopped. “Rolim, now we have discovered Takwin’s real name, I think we should go prepare to meet the pilgrims.”

Rolim turned to Funi, saying, “Unless you need our help more, Ma’hal, we will take our leave now.”

Funi nodded slightly. “Go and tend to your duties. We appreciate your help and we will ensure that Takwin knows the role you played in saving her name.”

The elves bowed, first to Funi, then to Kason and Delea. “We are glad to have been of help and honored we will be remembered that way. Farewell,” Meorise said.

“Farewell to you Meorise and Rolim. If events permit, please come by the Twisted Tree with the pilgrims, so we can welcome them, too.”

“It is custom we escort them directly to Imneral, but we will extend your offer,” Meorise said before bowing. “Again, farewell.” From there, the elves and the Aranians went their separate ways.

It was mid-evening when the Aranians reached the camp they had used the night before. The clouds Funi had seen earlier made the forest look much darker and later than it really was.

They quickly stowed their gear and made the camp ready for use again. All the while, the wind would howl in the treetops.

Not long after they had eaten and had the fire going good, the rains came.

At first, the rain was light and barely made it through the canopy of the forest. Then a thunderclap roared, and with it came a torrent that threatened to douse the fire. The women quickly used some branches from their bedding to shield the fire from the rain and move some of the collected firewood underneath their shelter. 

Through the night, they took turns keeping watch and tending the fire. As the night wore on, the storm finally passed and through the small breaks in the tops of the trees, they could see the stars.

The next morning, Funi and the others smothered the fire after having a small breakfast. After breaking down their camp, they set off for home.

The trail home was now slick with mud from the rains the night before. Not so much to make the journey treacherous, but it slowed down their pace some. Because of this, it was late morning when they arrived at the camp.

When they arrived, a few of the women took much notice of their arrival other than to say welcome. The children, who were out playing, swarmed Funi and the others. They were eager to hear about what transpired with the elves and if they would come to visit them at the camp. It disheartened most when Funi only answered by saying that she would tell them all that evening.

Brothya and Lina approached Funi after the children had dispersed. “I hope you met with success, Ma’hal,” Brothya asked.

“We did,” Funi replied as she made her way to her yurt. “Where are Chana and Forvitni?”

“I have not seen them this morning, so I presume they are in Chana’s yurt. Have you seen them, Lina?”

“I have not. There was much commotion yesterday when she arrived with Forvitni. I think Chana withdrew to find peace for the child. I will fetch them once you tell us Forvitni’s real name, Ma’hal.”

Funi shook her head while a smile came across her lips. “No. I will go to her and tell her myself. I am sure Chana will have questions. You can come with me to see if Chana will see you as well.”

At Funi’s yurt, she set her basket of berries by the entrance and placed her satchel inside. “I’m going to give Chana the good news now,” she said as she started towards Chana’s yurt, followed by Brothya and Lina.

Chana had just stepped outside when Funi arrived. “Ma’hal, you’re back. Do you have news?”

“I do. Along with two curious sisters who wish to know.”

Chana covered her mouth with her hands, her eyes alight with excitement. When she lowered her hands, she asked eagerly, “Forvitni is asleep right now, but tell me her true name.”

Grinning, Funi said, “Her mother calls her Takwin, and she is from Stavir. I learned little else about her, other than she has sisters. We discovered her father, Ledbic, lied and threatened to strike me.” As she had done the day before, Funi spit when she spoke Ledbic’s name.

This revelation caused varied looks from the three other women. Brothya’s eyes widened and her mouth hung open while Lina just stared at Funi. Chana covered her mouth, shaking her head.

Lina was the first to recover. “Ma’hal, I told Brothya that we should have all stayed with you when Takwin was found. Had we all gone, he would not have tried such a thing.”

Funi, her jaw cocked, spun on Lina. “Had you all stayed, we may not have found the tracks that lead back to Stavir. We were fortunate that two aelves heard Kason’s message and offered to help, but they had some hardship finding them.”

“And we met with some fortune in Stavir, as another Ma’hal was there trading.” Funi’s expression and her explanation caused Lina to lower her gaze.

“But I will tell you everything this evening after I recant our exploits with the aelves to the children.”

She turned back to Chana. “Now tell me, how is Takwin?”

Chana lowered her hand. “She is well. I would tell you more, but I have some things to do while she sleeps. If you care to walk with me, I could tell you.”

Funi furrowed her brow some. “I have berries that need to be preserved, but I can spend a few minutes to hear how Takwin is.”

“Ma’hal, I will preserve your berries for you. Would give you more time to spend with Chana,” Lina said.

With a slight chuckle, Brothya said, “I’ll go and see about getting more firewood for this evening since you are going to tell the children a grand story this evening, Ma’hal.”

“I thank you both, but that is unnecessary. I can preserve my own berries and I do not plan on regaling the children with some grand story like some bard,” Funi said, shaking her head while a slight smile crossed her lips.

Brothya put her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes slightly at Funi. “We know you and your stories to the children. You will make something common like weaving a basket seem like some grand affair and enspell the children. And you enjoy it.” Lina nodded in agreement with Brothya while Chana covered her mouth to suppress a giggle at this.

Again, though, Funi shook her head before saying, “Not this time. There are things I must contemplate and only have my own counsel to rely on.”

“All the more reason I should preserve your berries for you,” Lina said as she turned to leave, cutting off any further debate.

Before Funi could say more, Brothya also turned and left, saying, “Now I must get more wood.”

“Ma’hal, I think you have a small rebellion on your head.”

Funi stood for a moment with a half smile on her lips and her eyes slightly narrowed. “Aye. But one partially founded on full truth. Come, let us go so you can finish your tasks.”

The two women made their rounds through the camp and its outskirts. 

As they walked, Chana explained that Takwin’s arrival had caused more than the normal commotion in the camp as it had been several years since a child so young had arrived there. Only the oldest of the Aranians in the camp could remember the last time someone had abandoned a child like Takwin. 

Because of this, quite a few of the women in the camp came by to see Takwin and wish her good tidings. All this attention caused Takwin to be fretty and restless most of the day.

“So I stayed inside today to avoid the others for Takwin’s sake,” Chana said.

While Chana had recounted the events with Takwin from yesterday, Funi said little and often nodded in agreement. When Chana had finished, Funi let out a slight groan. “I would have thought that the others would have shown more respect to you and Takwin. Especially the elders. But tell me, how did your son do with her?”

“Other than wanting to sleep in the cradle with her, he took little notice of her.”

“And he is how old?”

“He will be three come spring.”

Chana took a deep breath and looked Funi straight in the eye. “Tell me, Ma’hal, may I raise her as my own?”

Funi met Chana’s gaze with her own and placed her hand on her shoulder as she said, “You are not my first choice, as you are young, only twenty-two. You lack experience and wisdom. But, you answered my request when we found Takwin and withdrawing to your yurt today was not a bad idea. Still, I have not decided who should raise Takwin yet. Come join me this evening when I tell the children how the aelves helped us rescue Takwin’s name.”

The two were about to resume their walk when someone called out to Chana. “Chana. I hear Forvitni stirring.”

“I must go Ma’hal.”

“Yes go. We will speak later,” Funi said as she pulled Chana to hug her. When they released, they returned to their respective yurts. Funi took a roundabout path so she could observe the others in the camp. Throughout the camp, the women were busy with various tasks. Some were preserving foods for the coming winter, while others were weaving or making clothes. As Funi walked by, many would briefly stop what they were doing to acknowledge Funi. Finally, she reached her yurt and went inside and sat down to think over things.

Outside the normal sounds of the camp, Funi was left undisturbed until she emerged that evening.

When she came out, she discovered that some women who had gone hunting that day had fell two bucks which were skinned and partially butchered. Around a large fire pit, most of the children and several women had gathered. In the pit was a stack of wood in preparation for the tale Funi would tell later.

Funi joined the others, who were standing in line to get something to eat. A few asked what Takwin’s real name was, to which Funi responded it would spoil the story for the children. Funi also took the opportunity to ask the other women to let Chana and the child be for a few days while the little girl got used to her new home. “Let her approach you,” was what she said to them.

Funi went to a log near the fire pit to sit and eat. Several Aranians had named it ‘the throne’ as Funi like to sit there when told stories to the children or on rare occasions that she had important things to discuss with the others. An older woman joined Funi, and they reminisced about their days when they were younger and Funi had just become a mother for the first time.

Twilight had started to fall when the two had finished eating. The other woman got up slowly, saying, “If you excuse me, Funi, I need more sleep than when we were younger. I think it is because of the sleep I didn’t get because of my children.”

Funi laughed at this. “Yes, they deprived us of sleep, but it was a small price to pay for the joy they have brought us. But before you retire, would you have someone light the fire for us and have Delea join me?”

“Of course,” the other woman said as she slowly made her way out of the throng of children.

Soon, Delea approached the assembly with a torch in her hand. As she reached the center, she thrust it into the campfire to set it alight. The wood within soon caught and, showing it was lit to her satisfaction, Delea released the torch into the fire before joining her mother.

“You sent for me, mother?”

“I did. Have you seen Chana and Takwin? I have been talking with Estar and have not seen them,” Funi said in little more whisper as she leaned towards her daughter.

“I have. They are on the outer edge of the children. Do you wish me to bring them here?”

Nodding with a smile. “Yes, as it is almost time.”

Delea left her mother and soon returned with Chana, Takwin, and Chana’s son. 

Once they arrived, Funi asked them to sit as she stood up and said in a raised, commanding voice, “I understand some of you expressed an interest in how Forvitni came to join us and how we recovered her name.” She paused as a silence fell over those assembled. “It is my pleasure to tell you that tale…”

If magic was real, or if the Aranians were true witches, it was on display as Funi told the tale. She mimicked the actions that had occurred over the last two days as she walked around the firepit.

While telling her tale, she changed some details to make the tale more dramatic, or to shift the focus of some events from her. 

In her story, it was her daughter who first heard Forvitni and found her. Kason was the one who had convinced Funi to send for aid and search for Forvitni’s name. It was Lina who suggested that the others return to camp to prevent destroying any trace that might lead them to Forvitni’s home.

The women and older children knew Funi was embellishing and altering the facts some, but it did not matter. The true story would have been boring. Funi’s version was far better. It drew everyone in and kept them enthralled. Only when Funi finished her tale, without mentioning Takwin was Forvitni’s real name, did anyone speak.

“Ma’hal, excuse me,” a boy of about nine said, “but was is Forvitni’s real name?”

Facing the boy, she stood with her shoulders thrown back and her hands on her hips. “Did I not just tell you that?”

A few other children shook their heads as the boy said, “No, Ma’hal. What is Forvitni’s real name?”

In a dramatic fashion, Funi slumped her shoulders, put her hand to her mouth and tapped her fingers on her lips. “Oh. Oh my. All this excitement has addled my mind and I don’t seem to remember Forvitni’s name. Chana, I do hope I told you before I forgot her name.”

Chana closed her eyes and smiled as she shook her head. She then stood up and said, “Yes, Ma’hal, you told me her real name was Takwin.”

“Takwin. That is it,” Funi said as she folded her arms across her chest. “How could I have forgotten?” She walked over to where Chana was standing and turned back to the assembled crowd. In a quiet voice, she said, “Takwin has had some uncertain days and is easily upset. But let us softly welcome her.” She turned to Chana and Takwin, saying, “We welcome you, Takwin.”

“We welcome you,” came as a whisper from the crowd.

It was twilight when Funi had started her tale, now night had come. Turning back to those assembled, “Now, for some of you, it is time to go to sleep. The others, I’m sure, have some things left to do before you sleep tonight.”

Funi watched as her audience got up to leave. Some of the younger children had already fallen asleep, and either had to be carried to their beds or rustled to return to their yurt. Chana’s son had fallen asleep and was lying partially in Delea’s lap. When Funi turned to summon them to her yurt, she couldn’t help but smile, watching her daughter stroke the boy’s hair.

“Please, come with me,” Funi said. “Delea, see if you can carry Eurus without waking him.”

“Yes, mother.”

Delea was able to sit the boy up so she could stand and then hoisted him onto her shoulder. In the shuffling, the boy didn’t move or make a sound. Once Delea had him settled, the three women went to Funi’s yurt and went inside.

Once inside, Funi asked them to sit on her cot as she took a seat opposite them on Delea’s cot. Funi waited for Chana and Delea to sit before she spoke.

“I have made my decision about who should raise Takwin, Chana. As I told you earlier, you are inexperienced and lack wisdom. Still, you take advice well and can figure some things out on your own. But I don’t think you are ready to tend to two children on your own.”

“And I can say the same about you, Delea. There is much that you have yet to learn and I can not readily teach you. You need to learn to tend to children.”

Chana’s shoulders sagged and her head drooped some, while Delea’s mouth opened slightly before her mother continued.

“So, it is my decision that Takwin will stay with you, Chana, as your daughter, with Delea’s help.”

“Delea, you will stay with Chana to help and learn from her. That is, if you agree to this.”

Chana sat up straight and adjusted the sling Takwin had been resting in. “I would welcome Delea to my home and her help. More importantly, I am grateful you are allowing Takwin to stay with me.”

Delea’s eyes darted between her mother and Chana as her mouth quivered. “But… but mother, are you sure? Both Eurus and Takwin are so young. There are those who are better suited to…”

Funi held her hand up to cut her daughter off. “Yes, there are others, but most are already mothers in their own right or grandmothers. You need to start learning about raising children for the day you make me a grandmother again.”

Putting her hand on Delea’s shoulder, she said, “Ma’hal is right. I was about your age when my mother advised me to offer to be a nanny. I refused and found I had much to learn with Eurus when he was born. It is better to learn some now than all later. Besides, you’ve already taken the first steps and Eurus seems to be comfortable with you.” She nodded at her son, who had not stirred since he fell asleep on Delea.

After a deep sigh, Delea lowered her head some. “Very well, mother. I will go with Chana, though the prospect of being a nanny scares me.”

“One day, you will find that fear is nothing compared to the terror of being a mother. Learn now so you can better enjoy the great joy motherhood brings,” Funi said. “Now, I think it is time for you two to get the little ones to bed. Chana, do you have space for Delea in your yurt?”

“Yes, I have an extra cot there.”

“Good. Then Delea, stay there tonight and you can come back for your possessions.”

The three women stood up and Funi embraced the other two. First Chana and then Delea, whose eyes had begun to water. She then led them to the entrance to her yurt and watched them as they departed.

Funi went back inside and laid down on her cot after she watched them enter Chana’s yurt.

For the first time in over a quarter century, she slept alone in her yurt.

A little over a week had passed since Takwin’s rescue and Funi was making clay jars with a couple of other women and several children. Rather, she was supposed to be making jars, but was playing more in the clay like the children than actually working.

She was showing one little girl how to draw the sides of the jar out from a lump of clay when someone called out to her. “Ma’hal. Ma’hal, we have visitors.”

“Who is it?” she called back with a slight frown on her face.

The woman who had called out to Funi now came around the yurt that had obscured her. “Ma’hal Indira, and an outlander woman with three children. The Ma’hal wishes to speak with you.”

Funi furrowed her eyebrows at this. It was not unheard of for a Ma’hal to seek advice from another Ma’hal. But to do so in the company of an outlander and children, this was new to Funi.

“Lead them to my yurt. I will join you shortly,” she said as she stood and walked over to a bucket of water. The woman nodded and walked off as Funi tried to wash as much of the clay as she could off her hands and face.

After washing, Funi made her way to her yurt. While walking there, Kason intercepted her. “I have heard we have visitors. Do you know who the outlander is or what this is about, Ma’hal?”

“No, but please accompany me should I need a runner.”

“Yes, Ma’hal.”

When the two reached Funi’s yurt, they found Indira, two women from her tribe, along with the outlanders. The woman’s eyes kept darting around like she was searching for something while the three children, of which the oldest may have been eight, looked tired and fidgety. Seeing the woman, Funi recognized her from Stavir, Takwin’s mother.

“Ma’hal Indira, I welcome you to our camp. Excuse me if I do not greet you properly as I have been working in clay. I understand you wish to speak with me?”

Indira nodded. “Thank you Ma’hal Funi. It is quite alright as I should apologize for not sending someone ahead to let you know of our coming. I brought Pertev from Stavir, as it is she who wishes to speak with you.”

“Come then, let us go inside. Kason, please show our other guests where they may rest. I suspect the children are hungry, so find Brothya and have her feed them and watch them,” Funi said as she pulled the flap open to her yurt. “After that, return here, please.”

“Yes, Ma’hal.”

After Indira and Pertev entered Funi’s yurt, she asked them to sit down on her cot. “Do not worry about your children, Pertev. They will be well tended to.” She sat down on the cot that had been Delea’s. “You wished to speak with me.”

Pertev looked at Indira and then back at Funi as she clenched and twisted the skirt of her dress. Indira reached out and put her hand on Pertev’s forearm in a reassuring measure.

“Yes,” Indira said in Nerian. “She does not speak our language, so we are free to talk.” I

“After we left, Stavir and her husband’s actions were revealed, he blamed Pertev and beat her. I have heard things about him, so I have no doubt about this. She left him and Stavir four days ago with her daughters. They wandered Aran for two days before we found them and she was instant on coming here. She seeks her youngest daughter.”

Indira then turned to Pertev and said in Guician, “Speak to her, Pertev. I have told her some, but you must tell her everything.”

Pertev’s lip quivered as she again looked back between the two Ma’hals. Tears flowed from her eyes as she blurted out. “I want my daughter back. I want Takwin. My husband made me give her up. He cursed and beat me because I’ve only given him daughters. He thought by giving Takwin to you we could have another child, a son.”

Pertev released her skirt and put her hands over her face as she started crying. The two Ma’hals sat in silence until Pertev regained her composure. It took a few minutes before Pertev’s sobbing ceased. When pulled her hands away from her face and looked up, her eyes and cheeks were red.

Funi’s face was stone as she asked, “What is your intent?”

Pertev looked at Funi with her mouth partially open. “My… my intent? I don’t understand.”

“You have left your husband, Stavir, the life you knew. Do you intend to stay in Aran or move on to another village?”

“I don’t know. I just want to be with Takwin again,” Pertev said, shaking her head. “If it means I must become a witch, then I will pay that price.”

Funi’s eyes narrowed at Pertev for her comment. “Her husband taints her words,” Indira said. “She does not mean to insult us. Do you, child?”

“No. It is just that I’m at my wit’s end without Takwin. My husband wanted a son so badly and complained about dowries for our daughters that he thought if he got rid of Takwin, we could have a son. When you came to Stavir and said how you found Takwin, he became angry because the others in the village now despise him.”

There was an uneasy silence for several moments as Funi sat with her hands clasped, tapping her thumbs together. “What is your mind, Indira?” Funi finally asked in Nerian.

“The child is of your tribe, so the decision is yours. For Pertev’s sake, she is welcome in my tribe if you do not accept her, though I think you will have a frequent visitor.”

Funi continued to tap her thumbs together she as pursed her lips and nodded.. “She knows I cannot force a mother to give up a child?”

“I have made her aware of our ways regarding that.”

Funi stood up and went to the flap and looked outside. “Ah, Kason, you have returned. Ask Chana to come here with Takwin.”

Kason raised an eyebrow at this request before saying, “Yes, Ma’hal,” and setting off.

Funi returned to her seat on the cot. Looking straight at Pertev, she said, “Ma’hal Indira has told you that another is now mother to Takwin. And that I can not force them to give her to you, even if you were to join my tribe.”

Tears once again came to Pertev’s eyes as she nodded. “Yes.”

“This is not fully my choice. When the first of us arrived in Aran, they were fleeing slavery. Women who had their children and babies taken from them without their consent. Those first Aranians said no more to taking children like that.”

“Then they saw people abandoning children here in Aran. They began the practice of taking those children and raising them as their own. Those two facts make us, in part, who we are. I can no more go against that than I can make the sun set anywhere except in the west.”

Just then Chana called from outside the yurt, “Excuse me, Ma’hal. You called for me?”

“Yes, Chana. Come in.” As Chana entered wearing a baby sling, Funi stood up and beckoned Chana to join her on Delea’s cot. “Chana, this is Ma’hal Indira and Pertev of Stavir. Pertev is Takwin’s birth mother. Indira, Pertev, this is Chana who serves as Takwin’s mother.”

Chana nodded to Funi’s guests before sitting down.

“M… may I see my daughter?” Pertev asked. Her voice cracking as she asked.

Before Funi could respond, Chana stood and stepped over to Petrev, opening up the sling. “I just fed her, so she is sleeping right now.” She leaned over so Petrev could see her daughter. Through the tears that seemed non-stop from Petrev, a smile came to her face.

“Her lips are red,” Pertev said with a little laugh. “Berries?”

Standing up and closing the sling, Chana said, “Yes. She seems to like them. Particularly raspberries.”

Funi sat down next to Chana. “Pertev has left her husband and is considering joining us in Aran. I think she has many questions that need to be answered first. Pertev, please, tell Chana all.”

Pertev recounted her tale to Chana of how Ledbic was overbearing and wanted a son. She told how he beat her for giving birth to girls and that it was Ledbic who took Takwin and left her in Aran. When she talked about Takwin and how she didn’t want to lose her and how much she had missed her, she began crying again. Pertev said that Takwin was the reason she left her husband, and she just wanted to be with her daughter.

When she was done, Chana looked at Funi and asked, “What is your decision, Ma’hal?”

Sitting up straight, Funi said, “She has made herself clear she would join us if she can be near Takwin, so I will accept her into our tribe. That is all I can do.”

Pertev looked at Funi, her mouth moving as if she wanted to say something. She swallowed hard before saying, “But what of my daughter? Is she to stay with Chana?”

“I cannot force Chana to give up Takwin. I would no longer be Ma’hal or an Aranian if I did. And I have never heard of such a series of events as we have here. Have you Ma’hal Indira?”

Indira shook her head. “I have not. We could ask during the next coven, but that is not until midwinter. There may be other Ma’hals who know of such a situation.”

Chana suddenly stood up and looked at the two Ma’hals. As neither reacted to her standing up, Chana turned to Petrev and asked, “You wish to become an Aranian and forsake the world you knew only to be with Takwin?” Petrev slowly nodded. “Then sister, welcome. I have done my best to care for your daughter in your absence.”

Cradling Takwin with one arm, Chana carefully lifted the sling over her head. She then handed Takwin over to Petrev and helped her put the sling on. Again, Petrev started crying as she opened the sling to look at Takwin. When she looked back up at Chana, she said, “Thank you.”

Indira’s eyes widened slightly while Funi’s narrowed slightly. “Chana…,” she started to say.

“I do this of my own will. I have heard Pertev’s story and I believe she would have joined us sooner if she knew what was to befall Takwin. Also, it was not her choice to give up Takwin. He took her from her.”

A slight smile crossed the two Ma’hal’s lips and Funi nodded slightly. “Very well then. Show your sister to your yurt so she may rest some. Afterwards, introduce her to some of the others. Tomorrow, we shall talk more, as I must decide on some other matters concerning Pertev’s arrival.”

“And what of Delea?” Chana asked.

Laughing, Funi pulled at a lock of her fading black hair. “I have raised five children. This was once black as night, but it took only three of Delea’s brothers and sisters to cause it to fade. Delea will stay with you to help you both.”

Chana bowed, saying, “Yes, Ma’hal. Come Pertev.”

As Chana helped Petrev stand, Petrev looked at Funi and said, “Ma’hal.”

Raising her hand, Funi cut her off. “Later child. Do as I have advised and rest for now.”

It was several minutes after Chana and Pertev left Funi’s yurt and the two Ma’hals sat in silence. Finally, Indira turned to Funi. “It looks like the problem we foresaw has found its solution.”

The audio version of "The Chaos of Me."  

Thirty-one poems written and read by me Readers have called it “powerful,” “moving,” and “intense.”

Inbul, the man credited for starting the Sage of Elhrub.

But why did he disappear for five years, and what happened to him during those years?

A link to one of my stories

After A Ghostly Millennium, I Am Heard

The tattered curtains to the study swayed in the night breeze. They were more cobwebs and rags than curtains. The glass that had once been in the windows had long since fallen out. The shards that remained sometimes rattled in the wind.

The study was little more than just another abandoned room in the house. At one point, there was a desk, a pair of tables, and several chairs sitting on an ornate rug. Books and curios had once filled the bookcases that lined the walls.

Now, all the furniture had collapsed and decayed, save for the small table and chair near the fireplace. The table had once been round, but part of the top had broken off, while the chair now lacked an arm and one leg had split. Most of the books that had adorned the shelves were gone, and the few that had remained had long since crumbled. The once opulent rug now was just ragged strips on the floor.

There was a single occupant in the room sitting on the chair next to the round table. He was reading a leather-bound volume. In nearly any other setting, this would not have been so unusual had the figure not been sitting as if nothing was wrong with the chair.

To Casek, the room still looked to him as it had in his life. The books still lined the shelves, the rug was in good repair, and the furniture looked as it did a hundred-fifty years ago. A bright fire in the fireplace lit the room.

In life, Casek enjoyed reading. It did not matter to him what the book was. He had read books on science, spiritualism, religious texts, and even novels. Regardless of the subject of the book, Casek would read it, saying, “It takes my mind to new places.”

Because of his desire to read and learn, Casek had studied engineering and took a job with the railroad. He had wanted to be in charge of the train, responsible for the locomotive. But his first trip was his last. He worked as a tender and struggled to keep feeding the firebox with enough coal. It was the first sign of his ailment.

After discovering he wasn’t fit to work on the trains, Casek set his sights on another item of engineering, the telegraph. He studied its workings and Morse so he could send and receive messages on it. Once he became the operator, he found he had a good deal of time to read.

Casek’s father had made some money investing in the railroads. Enough so, when his father died in 1854, Casek could live better than his salary as a telegraph operator. Rather than quit, Casek stayed on at the telegraph station, as it offered him a chance to purchase books and pick up the occasional ‘penny dreadful’ from British travelers.

In the winter before the outbreak of the war, Casek had fallen ill because of consumption, and his recovery was slow. Nearly completely bedridden, Casek passed the days reading.

The following summer, he had recovered well enough to return to his job at the train station. When he returned, however, he found his station manned by Union soldiers, sending and receiving messages. This left Casek to deliver the handful of civilian messages that came in.

When autumn came, Casek relapsed and never recovered. He passed away shortly before spring with a book in his hands. Casek had never married and had no siblings, so the courts locked his modest estate in probate.

Shortly after his death, Casek woke up in his chair in the study with a book in his hand. Or at least, he thought was waking up in his chair. Then he remembered he had been in his bed when he last fell asleep.

Not knowing how he got there, Casek put the book down on the table and looked for Connell Hunkin, his servant. While calling for Connell and searching for him, Casek noticed that all the doors in the house were open. With the windows closed, the house felt stuffy.

When he couldn’t find Connell anywhere in the house, Casek attempted to go outside. Here he found the front and back doors were closed. When he tried opening them, the doors wouldn’t budge. Nor would the windows open when he tried them. He was trapped in his own home.

It was another two days before Connell returned. He came with another individual who Casek didn’t recognize. Unusual for his routine, Connell did not announce that there was a visitor when they entered the house. Casek only realized there was anyone in the house when he heard a door close downstairs.

Casek went downstairs to see who was there and found the door to Connell’s room closed. He could hear through the door that Connell was talking to someone.

“Well, that is the last of it,” Connell said.

“Let me get that bag for you, Mr. Hunkin. Shall we leave?”

Casek heard the latch on the door turn, which caused him to step back. When the door opened, he saw Connell and the other man holding a couple of bags. The two men did not see Casek standing at the doorway, and what’s more, they walked right through Casek as if he wasn’t there.

Casek stood motionless, watching the two men leave. They paused at the front door where the stranger turned to Connel and said, “Even though the younger Mr. Bawden didn’t have a will, parts of his father’s will are still in effect. My partners and I believe we should be able to secure you a stipend from the Bawden estate, and we will provide you with letters of recommendation.” The stranger extended his hand to Connell.

Connell shifted the bag he was carrying from his right hand to his left, then shook the man’s hand. “Thank you, Mr. Cheetum. I would prefer it though if you could hold the letters and the stipend for me, as I see little point in that right now with this damn rebellion going on. I suspect it will be a matter of days before I’m swept up into it, so I’ve decided to go ahead and sign up of my own conscience.”

“Very well Mr. Hunkin. I’ll start drawing up the papers so you can claim everything when you are discharged. I wish you the best.” The two men turned and left, closing the door behind them.

Casek’s jaw hung partially open with what had transpired. The men had not seen him and walked right through him. Then they talked as if he were dead. Casek ran to the door. He had not heard the men lock the door when they left, but when he checked it, the handle would not turn. He went to the parlor to look out the window, watching the two men leave in a carriage.

Retiring to the sofa, Casek contemplated the last few days. He vividly remembered lying in bed, coughing and wheezing, trying to read. He also remembered putting the book down as his eyes felt heavy and feeling cold. The next thing he could remember was waking up in the study with a warm fire going.

Casek now realized it. He didn’t remember moving from his bedroom to the study, nor did he feel cold like he had when he was in bed.

When he awoke in his study, it was his spirit, and he now was a phantom. That also explained why Connell and Mr. Cheetum didn’t see him and passed right through him. That left the question: how did this happen to him?

Not wanting to ponder the question more, Casek went back upstairs to the study and sat down to read in solitude.

Over the next century and a half, Casek’s home remained unoccupied by the living. There was the occasional person or small group that would stay for a brief respite, but no one laid claim to the house. Slowly, it fell into disrepair while Casek sat and read. Strangely, the book Casek was reading would change after he finished it and put it down on the table.

Casek had learned that he could influence the content of the book on the table in the study. He had to only think about the type of the book he wanted to read. If he thought about a prison escape, the book on the table would be about a prison escape. If he thought about exploration, the book would be about an explorer or adventure. A newspaper would appear if he thought about what was going on in the world.

Now Casek’s solitude was being disturbed again. Putting his book down, a fanciful story by an English author about his experience traveling into the future, he listened intently. From downstairs, he could make out the clopping of footfalls mixed with other feet shuffling about. Casek couldn’t tell how many people were downstairs, but he thought at least four, based on their voices.

He picked his book back up and started reading again, hoping whoever was downstairs was just looking for a place to spend the night. Those who had done so in the past were far less bothersome than those who came seeking mischief.

Casek had hardly turned the page when he discovered his visitors’ intent. In his mind, he heard it. A sound that called to him incessantly, compelling him to go to the old storyboard.

He had acquired the storyboard from a British spiritualist and her husband late in 1860. They were desperate to get to New York so they could return home. The couple's original schedule was to go by carriage to Columbus in a few days, but the woman was frantic to get to New York. In order to secure passage on the train, she sold Casek the storyboard for $2.

From his reading of newspapers, Casek thought he recognized it for what it was, a tool of spiritualists in Europe. The wood of the storyboard was old as it had grayed, and the faded symbols on it were nearly indecipherable. The planchette, too, showed age and was in a shape that reminded Casek of an inverted fleur-de-lis with a blue gemstone set in the flower’s stalk.

Outside of it being a novelty, Casek thought little of the storyboard at the time he purchased it. Upon returning home that night, he placed it on the mantle above the fireplace in the parlor before retiring for the night.

The next morning, when he went into the parlor, the storyboard looked different. Where faded symbols appeared the day before, now appeared letters. He picked it up and examined it. Other than the symbols that were now letters, it was the same as yesterday. He noticed on the back there were some indecipherable markings before he put it back and went about his day.

Since that day, Casek often thought he heard something whenever someone touched the storyboard. He had few visitors, and he usually entertained them in the parlor with the storyboard. Some would make comments about it and touch it.

After his death, Casek seemed to have a connection with the board. For years, no one came to his home except for the occasional traveler looking for shelter. A number had tried to use the storyboard as firewood, but the wood wouldn’t burn. It would, however, scream in Casek’s mind.

It was during the first attempt to burn it that Casek learned something.

A man in a gray uniform was in the parlor. Casek had observed the man rummage through the house, collecting a change of clothes and some books. The man built a small fire in the fireplace using the books before trying to put the storyboard on the fire.

No sooner than the storyboard hit the fire, Casek heard the scream in his head. He fell into an end table, knocking it over. The noise startled the stranger.

“Who’s there?” he said, his eyes wide with fear as he whipped his head around, looking over the room.

Realizing he had knocked over the table, Casek kicked the table across the room. The man jumped at this and repeated his question.

Casek answered by shoving the sofa to the side and shouting, “Out!”

The intruder bolted out of Casek’s home at the sight of the sofa sliding across the room.

Once Casek was alone again, he gingerly reached into the fire to retrieve the storyboard. To his astonishment, he didn’t feel the heat from the fire. 

He pulled the storyboard from the fire and examined it. The front appeared the same as he remembered it. When he flipped it over, he noticed the markings he had seen before appeared to be runes of some sort, but ones Casek had never seen. He studied the symbols for a few moments before putting the board back on the mantle and returning to the study.

Now he thought about the runes he had seen. When he picked up the book, he found a piece of paper with a copy of the runes on it in the book. The book itself was on runes and their meanings. Casek spent days studying both items until he became frustrated. He put both aside so he could clear his mind. When he turned back, the paper was gone, and the book had changed.

In the days he had studied the runes, he made little progress understanding them. They had appeared to be a mix of several languages, and all he could decipher was ‘freely taken,’ ‘freely given,’ and ‘immutable.’ Other than that, he could not make sense of it.

Casek went downstairs to the door of the parlor, which was open. Inside, he saw six people huddled around the storyboard that they had placed on the floor. They appeared to be around twenty and were drinking something from cans that they had brought with them.

“Who wants to ask the first question?” a woman wearing a black knit cap said. Her brunette hair hung out underneath.

A black woman shivered and said, “Are you sure about this? My Aunt Saundra swears this house is haunted. She won’t talk about it, but said something happened here when she came up here.”

A blond man who had been drinking heavily from a can, stopped and crushed the can in his hand. “My old man says your aunt has been messed up in the head since she came back home from the Army, Kalona.”

This struck a bad chord with Casek. The young woman lowered her head and her shoulders slumped at the barb, while it caused Casek’s jaw to clench. In life, he had not approved of the mistreatments of blacks, and his feelings on that subject had not changed. He banged his fist on the wall, which caused the six trespassers to jump.

The woman with the knit cap had grabbed Kalona when Casek had hit the wall. She looked up at the man who had insulted Kalona’s aunt. “Brent, you don’t have to say things like that about Kalona’s aunt. She knows more about this place than we do.”

“Come on. If we’re going to do this, let’s do it,” Kalona said. The group then sat down around the storyboard, holding each other’s hand. Kalona took a rectangular block and used her fingers to tap on it a few times. The glass window on it lit up for a second before going dark. When it did, she put it in her pocket and joined the brunette, putting a finger on the planchette.

Once everyone was situated, the brunet said, “We’re trying to contact any of the spirits that are here. If you can hear us, give us a sign.”

BANG. Casek hit his hand on the wall as he entered the room.

The sound caused the group to jump as they looked around, not noticing the planchette moved to the letter ‘L.’

Tat. Walking along the perimeter, Casek rapped on the walls as the planchette moved to ‘E.’

Tat, tap. ‘A.’

Continuing to rap as he paced the room, tat, tat, tat, tap. ‘V.’

Tat.

With each set of raps, the planchette moved to a different letter, ending on ‘E.’ When he stopped, the only thing that broke the silence was the breathing of the six intruders.

“What was that?” whispered a purple-haired woman.

A man with a shaved head said, “I don’t know. Sounded like something banging on something.”

“Look, the pointer moved,” Kalona said, her eyes wide.

“You and Jen moved it. And it’s the wind that is causing that knocking noise.” There was a slight hesitation in Brent’s voice. “Come on, try again.”

The group slowly turned back to the storyboard, but before they could ask another question, Casek started rapping again, while the planchette moved through the letters.

Tap, tap, tat. ‘G.’

Tat. ‘E.’

Tap. ‘T.’

Tat…tat. ‘O.’

Tat, tat, tap. ‘U.’

Tap. ‘T.’

To punctuate his last message, Casek grabbed the remains of the sofa and jerked it back towards the wall. 

At the sofa’s sudden, violent movement, the women screamed, and the group bolted from the parlor. They ran to a pair of horseless carriages that were waiting out front. Frantically, the six clambered in and soon the two carriages made a roaring noise before they started rolling down the path.

Casek watched the red lights on the back of the carriages disappear in the distance before he made his way back upstairs to the study. Once he had settled back into his chair, he picked up his book again.

He didn’t know how long he had been reading, when he heard the roar of a horseless carriage pulling up. Not waiting to see what the intruders in this carriage were about, Casek went downstairs to investigate.

When he reached the door, he saw it was one of the two carriages that had left earlier. The black girl, Kalona, was standing alongside it, talking to someone inside. She then approached the front door and when she arrived, she stopped. After pulling a block from a pocket and tapping it a few times, it illuminated Kalona’s face as she then reached up to the door frame and began knocking.

Tat, tat, tat.

Tat…tat.

Tat…tat, tat.

Tat…tat, tat.

Tat, tat…tat, tat.

A link to one of my stories

After A Ghostly Millennium, I Am Heard

The tattered curtains to the study swayed in the night breeze. They were more cobwebs and rags than curtains. The glass that had once been in the windows had long since fallen out. The shards that remained sometimes rattled in the wind.

The study was little more than just another abandoned room in the house. At one point, there was a desk, a pair of tables, and several chairs sitting on an ornate rug. Books and curios had once filled the bookcases that lined the walls.

Now, all the furniture had collapsed and decayed, save for the small table and chair near the fireplace. The table had once been round, but part of the top had broken off, while the chair now lacked an arm and one leg had split. Most of the books that had adorned the shelves were gone, and the few that had remained had long since crumbled. The once opulent rug now was just ragged strips on the floor.

There was a single occupant in the room sitting on the chair next to the round table. He was reading a leather-bound volume. In nearly any other setting, this would not have been so unusual had the figure not been sitting as if nothing was wrong with the chair.

To Casek, the room still looked to him as it had in his life. The books still lined the shelves, the rug was in good repair, and the furniture looked as it did a hundred-fifty years ago. A bright fire in the fireplace lit the room.

In life, Casek enjoyed reading. It did not matter to him what the book was. He had read books on science, spiritualism, religious texts, and even novels. Regardless of the subject of the book, Casek would read it, saying, “It takes my mind to new places.”

Because of his desire to read and learn, Casek had studied engineering and took a job with the railroad. He had wanted to be in charge of the train, responsible for the locomotive. But his first trip was his last. He worked as a tender and struggled to keep feeding the firebox with enough coal. It was the first sign of his ailment.

After discovering he wasn’t fit to work on the trains, Casek set his sights on another item of engineering, the telegraph. He studied its workings and Morse so he could send and receive messages on it. Once he became the operator, he found he had a good deal of time to read.

Casek’s father had made some money investing in the railroads. Enough so, when his father died in 1854, Casek could live better than his salary as a telegraph operator. Rather than quit, Casek stayed on at the telegraph station, as it offered him a chance to purchase books and pick up the occasional ‘penny dreadful’ from British travelers.

In the winter before the outbreak of the war, Casek had fallen ill because of consumption, and his recovery was slow. Nearly completely bedridden, Casek passed the days reading.

The following summer, he had recovered well enough to return to his job at the train station. When he returned, however, he found his station manned by Union soldiers, sending and receiving messages. This left Casek to deliver the handful of civilian messages that came in.

When autumn came, Casek relapsed and never recovered. He passed away shortly before spring with a book in his hands. Casek had never married and had no siblings, so the courts locked his modest estate in probate.

Shortly after his death, Casek woke up in his chair in the study with a book in his hand. Or at least, he thought was waking up in his chair. Then he remembered he had been in his bed when he last fell asleep.

Not knowing how he got there, Casek put the book down on the table and looked for Connell Hunkin, his servant. While calling for Connell and searching for him, Casek noticed that all the doors in the house were open. With the windows closed, the house felt stuffy.

When he couldn’t find Connell anywhere in the house, Casek attempted to go outside. Here he found the front and back doors were closed. When he tried opening them, the doors wouldn’t budge. Nor would the windows open when he tried them. He was trapped in his own home.

It was another two days before Connell returned. He came with another individual who Casek didn’t recognize. Unusual for his routine, Connell did not announce that there was a visitor when they entered the house. Casek only realized there was anyone in the house when he heard a door close downstairs.

Casek went downstairs to see who was there and found the door to Connell’s room closed. He could hear through the door that Connell was talking to someone.

“Well, that is the last of it,” Connell said.

“Let me get that bag for you, Mr. Hunkin. Shall we leave?”

Casek heard the latch on the door turn, which caused him to step back. When the door opened, he saw Connell and the other man holding a couple of bags. The two men did not see Casek standing at the doorway, and what’s more, they walked right through Casek as if he wasn’t there.

Casek stood motionless, watching the two men leave. They paused at the front door where the stranger turned to Connel and said, “Even though the younger Mr. Bawden didn’t have a will, parts of his father’s will are still in effect. My partners and I believe we should be able to secure you a stipend from the Bawden estate, and we will provide you with letters of recommendation.” The stranger extended his hand to Connell.

Connell shifted the bag he was carrying from his right hand to his left, then shook the man’s hand. “Thank you, Mr. Cheetum. I would prefer it though if you could hold the letters and the stipend for me, as I see little point in that right now with this damn rebellion going on. I suspect it will be a matter of days before I’m swept up into it, so I’ve decided to go ahead and sign up of my own conscience.”

“Very well Mr. Hunkin. I’ll start drawing up the papers so you can claim everything when you are discharged. I wish you the best.” The two men turned and left, closing the door behind them.

Casek’s jaw hung partially open with what had transpired. The men had not seen him and walked right through him. Then they talked as if he were dead. Casek ran to the door. He had not heard the men lock the door when they left, but when he checked it, the handle would not turn. He went to the parlor to look out the window, watching the two men leave in a carriage.

Retiring to the sofa, Casek contemplated the last few days. He vividly remembered lying in bed, coughing and wheezing, trying to read. He also remembered putting the book down as his eyes felt heavy and feeling cold. The next thing he could remember was waking up in the study with a warm fire going.

Casek now realized it. He didn’t remember moving from his bedroom to the study, nor did he feel cold like he had when he was in bed.

When he awoke in his study, it was his spirit, and he now was a phantom. That also explained why Connell and Mr. Cheetum didn’t see him and passed right through him. That left the question: how did this happen to him?

Not wanting to ponder the question more, Casek went back upstairs to the study and sat down to read in solitude.

Over the next century and a half, Casek’s home remained unoccupied by the living. There was the occasional person or small group that would stay for a brief respite, but no one laid claim to the house. Slowly, it fell into disrepair while Casek sat and read. Strangely, the book Casek was reading would change after he finished it and put it down on the table.

Casek had learned that he could influence the content of the book on the table in the study. He had to only think about the type of the book he wanted to read. If he thought about a prison escape, the book on the table would be about a prison escape. If he thought about exploration, the book would be about an explorer or adventure. A newspaper would appear if he thought about what was going on in the world.

Now Casek’s solitude was being disturbed again. Putting his book down, a fanciful story by an English author about his experience traveling into the future, he listened intently. From downstairs, he could make out the clopping of footfalls mixed with other feet shuffling about. Casek couldn’t tell how many people were downstairs, but he thought at least four, based on their voices.

He picked his book back up and started reading again, hoping whoever was downstairs was just looking for a place to spend the night. Those who had done so in the past were far less bothersome than those who came seeking mischief.

Casek had hardly turned the page when he discovered his visitors’ intent. In his mind, he heard it. A sound that called to him incessantly, compelling him to go to the old storyboard.

He had acquired the storyboard from a British spiritualist and her husband late in 1860. They were desperate to get to New York so they could return home. The couple's original schedule was to go by carriage to Columbus in a few days, but the woman was frantic to get to New York. In order to secure passage on the train, she sold Casek the storyboard for $2.

From his reading of newspapers, Casek thought he recognized it for what it was, a tool of spiritualists in Europe. The wood of the storyboard was old as it had grayed, and the faded symbols on it were nearly indecipherable. The planchette, too, showed age and was in a shape that reminded Casek of an inverted fleur-de-lis with a blue gemstone set in the flower’s stalk.

Outside of it being a novelty, Casek thought little of the storyboard at the time he purchased it. Upon returning home that night, he placed it on the mantle above the fireplace in the parlor before retiring for the night.

The next morning, when he went into the parlor, the storyboard looked different. Where faded symbols appeared the day before, now appeared letters. He picked it up and examined it. Other than the symbols that were now letters, it was the same as yesterday. He noticed on the back there were some indecipherable markings before he put it back and went about his day.

Since that day, Casek often thought he heard something whenever someone touched the storyboard. He had few visitors, and he usually entertained them in the parlor with the storyboard. Some would make comments about it and touch it.

After his death, Casek seemed to have a connection with the board. For years, no one came to his home except for the occasional traveler looking for shelter. A number had tried to use the storyboard as firewood, but the wood wouldn’t burn. It would, however, scream in Casek’s mind.

It was during the first attempt to burn it that Casek learned something.

A man in a gray uniform was in the parlor. Casek had observed the man rummage through the house, collecting a change of clothes and some books. The man built a small fire in the fireplace using the books before trying to put the storyboard on the fire.

No sooner than the storyboard hit the fire, Casek heard the scream in his head. He fell into an end table, knocking it over. The noise startled the stranger.

“Who’s there?” he said, his eyes wide with fear as he whipped his head around, looking over the room.

Realizing he had knocked over the table, Casek kicked the table across the room. The man jumped at this and repeated his question.

Casek answered by shoving the sofa to the side and shouting, “Out!”

The intruder bolted out of Casek’s home at the sight of the sofa sliding across the room.

Once Casek was alone again, he gingerly reached into the fire to retrieve the storyboard. To his astonishment, he didn’t feel the heat from the fire. 

He pulled the storyboard from the fire and examined it. The front appeared the same as he remembered it. When he flipped it over, he noticed the markings he had seen before appeared to be runes of some sort, but ones Casek had never seen. He studied the symbols for a few moments before putting the board back on the mantle and returning to the study.

Now he thought about the runes he had seen. When he picked up the book, he found a piece of paper with a copy of the runes on it in the book. The book itself was on runes and their meanings. Casek spent days studying both items until he became frustrated. He put both aside so he could clear his mind. When he turned back, the paper was gone, and the book had changed.

In the days he had studied the runes, he made little progress understanding them. They had appeared to be a mix of several languages, and all he could decipher was ‘freely taken,’ ‘freely given,’ and ‘immutable.’ Other than that, he could not make sense of it.

Casek went downstairs to the door of the parlor, which was open. Inside, he saw six people huddled around the storyboard that they had placed on the floor. They appeared to be around twenty and were drinking something from cans that they had brought with them.

“Who wants to ask the first question?” a woman wearing a black knit cap said. Her brunette hair hung out underneath.

A black woman shivered and said, “Are you sure about this? My Aunt Saundra swears this house is haunted. She won’t talk about it, but said something happened here when she came up here.”

A blond man who had been drinking heavily from a can, stopped and crushed the can in his hand. “My old man says your aunt has been messed up in the head since she came back home from the Army, Kalona.”

This struck a bad chord with Casek. The young woman lowered her head and her shoulders slumped at the barb, while it caused Casek’s jaw to clench. In life, he had not approved of the mistreatments of blacks, and his feelings on that subject had not changed. He banged his fist on the wall, which caused the six trespassers to jump.

The woman with the knit cap had grabbed Kalona when Casek had hit the wall. She looked up at the man who had insulted Kalona’s aunt. “Brent, you don’t have to say things like that about Kalona’s aunt. She knows more about this place than we do.”

“Come on. If we’re going to do this, let’s do it,” Kalona said. The group then sat down around the storyboard, holding each other’s hand. Kalona took a rectangular block and used her fingers to tap on it a few times. The glass window on it lit up for a second before going dark. When it did, she put it in her pocket and joined the brunette, putting a finger on the planchette.

Once everyone was situated, the brunet said, “We’re trying to contact any of the spirits that are here. If you can hear us, give us a sign.”

BANG. Casek hit his hand on the wall as he entered the room.

The sound caused the group to jump as they looked around, not noticing the planchette moved to the letter ‘L.’

Tat. Walking along the perimeter, Casek rapped on the walls as the planchette moved to ‘E.’

Tat, tap. ‘A.’

Continuing to rap as he paced the room, tat, tat, tat, tap. ‘V.’

Tat.

With each set of raps, the planchette moved to a different letter, ending on ‘E.’ When he stopped, the only thing that broke the silence was the breathing of the six intruders.

“What was that?” whispered a purple-haired woman.

A man with a shaved head said, “I don’t know. Sounded like something banging on something.”

“Look, the pointer moved,” Kalona said, her eyes wide.

“You and Jen moved it. And it’s the wind that is causing that knocking noise.” There was a slight hesitation in Brent’s voice. “Come on, try again.”

The group slowly turned back to the storyboard, but before they could ask another question, Casek started rapping again, while the planchette moved through the letters.

Tap, tap, tat. ‘G.’

Tat. ‘E.’

Tap. ‘T.’

Tat…tat. ‘O.’

Tat, tat, tap. ‘U.’

Tap. ‘T.’

To punctuate his last message, Casek grabbed the remains of the sofa and jerked it back towards the wall. 

At the sofa’s sudden, violent movement, the women screamed, and the group bolted from the parlor. They ran to a pair of horseless carriages that were waiting out front. Frantically, the six clambered in and soon the two carriages made a roaring noise before they started rolling down the path.

Casek watched the red lights on the back of the carriages disappear in the distance before he made his way back upstairs to the study. Once he had settled back into his chair, he picked up his book again.

He didn’t know how long he had been reading, when he heard the roar of a horseless carriage pulling up. Not waiting to see what the intruders in this carriage were about, Casek went downstairs to investigate.

When he reached the door, he saw it was one of the two carriages that had left earlier. The black girl, Kalona, was standing alongside it, talking to someone inside. She then approached the front door and when she arrived, she stopped. After pulling a block from a pocket and tapping it a few times, it illuminated Kalona’s face as she then reached up to the door frame and began knocking.

Tat, tat, tat.

Tat…tat.

Tat…tat, tat.

Tat…tat, tat.

Tat, tat…tat, tat.

A link to one of my poems - From my book "The Chaos of Me."

The Blade