When time has brought together an instance of weary hope with an opportunity yet thought of, a release caresses the soul and becomes faith in one's self.
To accomplish what must be done, and go beyond, becomes a dream - a possible vision requiring strength to endure but promises more than the pain to achieve.
Strength of the soul, not of the body.
Before those stories we humble ourselves in obeisance to the simple glory in each success. This then is yet another tale of one of these young adventurers.
Let us not tarry then . . .
Anisah sighed deeply as she trudged along. She was just returning from Mistress Brand's, their nearest neighbor, where she was sent by Brae’x to fetch some eggs. It wasn't even dawn, but it was already too warm and she had to finish her other chores soon.
"Stupid hens, so scared of the fox they can't even lay eggs," she grumbled, deliberately kicking dust up from the road, "might as well just roast them all and be done with them".
She was so engrossed in her dark mood she didn't hear the cart coming behind her.
"Well, Good morning to you, young wool gatherer. You best watch where you're goin' there, or you'll get run over. For sure."
Anisah jumped when the man spoke, almost spilling all the precious eggs; one of them tumbled out before she could catch it, breaking.
She turned and saw who it was and quickly regained her composure. Old Bas, the tinker, was driving his wagon directly behind her and she hadn't noticed.
"Goodness, sir. You scared me half to death. I'm surprised I only broke one of these," Anisah said, holding the basket so he could see.
"Well, didn't mean to, you know. You just had your head in the clouds, is all. Would ya like a ride the rest of the way home? I'll be going right by your place on me way to town," the old man smiled at her and patted the seat.
"Oh, thank you so much. My feet are hurting," Anisah answered. She reached and gave Bas the basket of eggs, gathered her skirts and scrambled up beside him.
He gave her the basket. She held it on her lap and rode in silence for a while. The sun glimmered on the horizon. She could feel the softness of the early sunrise and thought how beautiful everything looked in the morning light. From this higher perch, it didn't feel so hot.
Light mists floated through the great willows near the creek; a rooster crowed on the next farm; morning doves were cooing; it all seemed so peaceful.
They arrived at her cottage too quickly. Smoke was rising from the chimney. Anisah knew she needed to get the eggs into her mother soon. She handed her basket to Old Bas and jumped down.
"Your mother be needing any pots fixed, or any pins or needles for her stitching, or the like, while I'm here?" Old Bas asked, carefully handing her the basket of eggs.
"I don't know but let me take these to her and I'll ask.
I'll be right back to let you know," she answered as she started to turn to run into the house.
He bent over, reaching to give her the basket, and a crystal on a thong fell out of his shirt, swinging from his neck.
"What a beautiful crystal," she stopped and drew in her breath at the sight, her eyes opening wide, "I think I have one that looks just like it. Same color and everything."
She pulled her necklace from inside her dress to show him. "My mother told me my father gave it to me when I was born. Where did you get yours?"
He sat up, looked down at his chest where the crystal lay glittering darkly in the new sunlight and smiled, "Don't know really. I think I traded for it some years ago, somewheres up north. I had an old mare that just tagged along tied behind me wagon. I kinda thought this thing was pretty," he held it up showing it more clearly, "and they needed the horse. So here it is," he chuckled.
"I suppose I'd sell it if I needed the money, but ain't had that problem yet. You're right though, except for the cording, the two could be twins," he observed.
His cord was green like hers, but her crystal was held to the cord by leather thongs, his seemed to be set in a golden cage. Each stone was jagged across one end as though it might have been snapped from some other source, but both, though black, were dazzling in the light.
"Tis odd we have them and so much alike," he added, dropping the stone back into his shirt.
Anisah also returned hers to its place against her skin. Neither cared to talk about the necklaces anymore, both looked away.
It was as though the incident never occurred.
"Thank you so very much for the ride, but I'd better get these eggs inside before I get into trouble. If you'll wait, I'll ask my mother about the pots and stuff." She ran for the back door just as her mother came to peer out, looking for her.
"Mother, Old Bas is outside. He wants to know if he can do any fixin' while he's here?" Anisah asked, quickly thrusting the basket of eggs at her mother. She wanted to leave the house before Brae’x decided to send her on another errand.
"Slow down, Anisah. I don't need any mending done, but I do need some sewin' things –- needles, pins and thread," her mother answered, sitting the eggs down on the table.
She walked to the fireplace and bent down to stoke the wood, raised up and walked to a chest sitting under the window. It was often piled high with coats and other winter stuff, but with spring coming, the coats were all stored.
She raised the top of the chest, reached deeply into it, and brought out a small purse and removed a few coins. "Just a dozen pins and two spools of black thread, dear," she added as she handed Anisah the money, "and come right back because you need to go to the spring to get some water and bring in more firewood from the shed."
Anisah barely heard the last about the chores, but what she heard made her frown as she ran back to the road where Old Bas sat waiting.
"My girl needs a family of her own to settle her down. Something else that needs tendin' to," her mother muttered, shaking her head and brushing aside the hair that falling into her face. She reached and began stirring the soup again.
"We need a dozen pins and some black thread," Anisah told Old Bas, catching her breath. She had run all the way back.
He reached behind the seat, rummaged around for a moment, and pulled out the packet of pins and a bobbin of thread. He handed them down to her and took the coins, straightened on the seat, and reached for the reins. "I thank you, my dear. May you keep yourself in good health," he said, looking over his shoulder at her. He flipped the straps once and the oxen begin to pull the wagon away.
"And the same to you, sir. Thank you again for the ride," she shouted, waved, watching the old man and his cart for a while, turned and walked back to the cottage.
Something happened to her as she walked back into the house. Something new and strange; she didn't understand it, but she sensed a power within her.
Her crystal stood on end with its point against her chest and when she put her arm down from waving, it pricked her and she jumped. "That's strange, almost magical," she said, as she shook the cord and the gem fell back into its usual place. She looked down the road again, but Old Bas was out of sight.
"Anisah, honey, I need you to go get water for coffee. You know your father will be down in a moment and he needs his morning coffee to get started off for work," her mother smiled and told her as she walked back into the kitchen.
"He's not my father!" Anisah spat out as she stomped out the door, slamming it behind her. "And won't ever be!"
Anisah savagely kicked the wooden bucket down the gently sloping hill and screamed at it. Her hair flared at the effort, and sparkled golden orange in the glint of sunlight peeking through the trees.
The bucket rolled toward the small stream running through the forest behind the cottage, bumping along as it banged against rocks and trees, finally coming to rest against the cooling shed spanning the creek.
She had to vent her anger in some way, kicking the bucket provided a certain satisfaction. Her green eyes flickered with amusement. It wasn't the first time she taken her anger out on the bucket, and she always wished
it was Brae’s head.
She pointed at the bucket and shouted, "I could kill you, Brae’x Habberns. Why do you treat me this way? I've done nothing to you?" She stood trembling, turned toward the forest, and screamed with all her might, collapsing on the damp ground and sobbing because she couldn't stop.
"Father, why did you leave me? What am I going to do?" she talked between her knees to the ground, holding her head in her hands. She lingered there for some time.
Soon she quieted, stood up and walked to the bucket. She wanted to kick it again, but she had to go back.
She hated him.
Of all the men in Caliste, her mother decided to marry him. He was a pompous, self-important fool. He was always telling her mother, Callex, and her what to do and when.
She didn't need to be told to get water. She was doing that since she was old enough to walk, for as long as she could remember, before her father had died.
She stopped, bitterly remembering that day. She stood, for a moment, and cried softly before continuing down the hill.
It now seemed so long ago. It was an early spring, the air still cool in the mornings. She was up all night with Mistress Elspeth, the village healer, watching over her father.
Although Mistress Elspeth wasn't a real healer, only an old woman who knew more about herb lore than any-one else in the village, she had helped many and was one of those special people for Anisah.
Anisah's mother collapsed in exhaustion a few hours before daylight, having stayed awake by her husband's bedside for days. She didn't respond when Anisah tried to wake her.
It became clear her father was gravely ill; seizures wracked his body. Anisah decided her mother needed the rest, and nothing could be done anyway, so she let her sleep.
Mistress Elspeth did all she could but it wasn't enough. Just after dawn, when the world was just awakening, Anisah's father had breathed softly, a sigh, and died. Anisah remembered how horribly empty she felt looking down at his calmed face.
"Hey girl, did you forget where the house is? We need water for breakfast, not supper. Now get up here," shouted Brae’x.
Angry her private moment was interrupted, Anisah looked up the hill and frowned. Ignoring Brae’x, she sat for a moment more, then stood, picked up the bucket
and trudged further down the hill still thinking about her father and Mistress Elspeth on the last morning.
Perhaps if they had known more about herbs and how to use them, her father would have lived and she wouldn't be carrying water up to help cook breakfast for a man she couldn't stand. The way he bullied her family, as well as everyone else he came in contact with, was unbearable.
There must be some way out of here, she thought.
Suddenly, she felt something odd happening on her chest, something was changing her crystal. It lay warm against her skin. She pulled it out quickly and it began to glow. Surprised, she jumped up almost breaking the line that held it.
She began to sense the gem, something tugged at her heart and her thoughts. She wanted to lash out at something, at anything, just to feel this power was suddenly surging inside her.
She never felt anything like this before.
"Oh, the gods are trembling," she moaned aloud, not realizing she spoke.
Across the creek from her, the trees began to sway, the water in the creek stopped flowing, and the grass began to whip about with the wind.
Anisah felt nothing. She held her long slender hands in front of her and gazed at them. She peered through them and focused on a large boulder lodged halfway into the ground in the field beyond the thicket.
She wanted to smash it; she needed something to release the tension building inside her. Suddenly the boulder moved.
The boulder shuddered once, then pitched into the sky, traveled almost beyond her sight and plopped down, falling heavily onto the ground again, dust and grass kicking up where it landed.
The moment of exhilaration passed. She could only stand and stare as the dust settled. She couldn't believe what happened.
The crystal, hanging at her front, was dark and cool again. She absently placed it back inside her dress. She searched about her in disbelief, stunned; she couldn't even blink her eyes.
What have I done? How can this be? What did I do? She quivered with excitement.
She sat down heavily to recover, still trembling. She looked at the boulder in the distance, at the hole where it was. She shook her head slowly, trying to think.
Was that magic? She placed her hand on the crystal beneath her blouse. What is this stone?
Suddenly she gasped. Old Bas has one just like it.
Do they fit together at the jagged edges? If this stone gave me such strength, if the two were joined, would that mean even greater power?
She sat thinking for a while longer, trying to put together possibilities.
Each of these stones must be serving some purpose. Together Old Bas's and mine probably could create a force beyond imagining.
She couldn’t imagine the power, unbelievable power, for the bearer. She turned, looked back at the house on top of the rise above the creek, and grinned with an evil sneer.
She turned and picked up the bucket now filled with water though she didn't know how, and started walking toward the house with slow deliberation. She glared at the house from under her brow as she walked.
Abruptly, she frowned and the glaze left her eyes.
What am I doing? What am I thinking? I'm not like this.
She shook her head from side to side, trying to break the aching inside, not knowing what to do.
Stopping in the yard in front of the house, she turned around and around, trying to hold, to see, to find something concrete to bring her back to her old world.
"Don't make me have to come out and get water, or you'll be sorry," Brae’x's voice invaded her thoughts again.
That does it! I hate this man.
She walked to the door and slammed the bucket down in the entryway. The water splashed about, spilling over. She leaned over, dipped her hand into the water, straightened and pushed her wet hands through her autumn colored hair.
Jerking the bucket aloft defiantly, she kicked the door back, actually hurting her toes a bit, and pushed her way into the room.
She walked to the hearth and, once again, slammed the bucket down. More water splashed out and spilled over onto the floor.
Anisah stomped away, her slender frame tense with anger. Her skin flushed, the freckles showing through her lightly tanned face. Her eyes were red from crying, sunken and tired. She rubbed the back of her hand across her small nose and sniffed. Her mouth quivered and made the corners of her lips turn down.
"What're you snifflin' about now? You need to get control of this girl, Callex, 'fore I have to," Brae’x growled over his empty cup.
Anisah went immediately to the cupboard without saying anything, almost snatched the wooden plates and cups out, and began to set the table.
When she finished, she went to the end of the eating area, plopped down on a stool, hiked her dress up to form a pocket, grabbed a pail of potatoes and began to peel them for dinner.
She amused herself by fantasizing each potato was Brae’x's head and she was stripping the flesh from his face with each stroke. She took great pleasure in this little farce and, by the time she finished, she felt much better.
After they ate breakfast and Anisah cleaned all the dishes, there was little for her to do but go outside. She didn't want to be near Brae’x for fear he might actually want to talk to her, and her mother never seemed to want to spend time with her anymore.
Anisah passed the time wandering in the small thicket near the creek and dreaming about being free.
Why is my life so miserable? What have I done to deserve this awful life? And, what is this stone hanging from my neck? Where did my father get such a thing? Does Old Bas know what he possesses?
The thoughts raged through her head. She fell to the ground and cried until he
r eyes hurt.
At last, she grew tired. It was late and she missed sup-per again, but she didn't care. She avoided Brae’x who always ate first. Then he would sit around drinking until he passed out in the chair.
She returned, crept up to her bedroom, lay on the bed, and fell asleep exhausted wondering what had happened today. She reached and clasped the crystal tightly and dreamed.
---------------------------
She's awake. Maybe. No.
She knows she's dreaming, but it seems so real. She isn't in her bed; she's walking on a long, empty road.
It's cold and wet; the sky is emptying rain. She can hardly see more than two steps ahead; the road is full of water. She stops, afraid to take another step, and stands shivering, listening.
Someone is calling her name; she knows the voice, but where is he? She can't recall the face; she knows and can't remember. She shakes her head trying to make the voice go away. She wants to lie down and wake up; she wants out of this misery.
"You'll have to wait. I need to rest. Leave me. Go away," she cries out. Instantly, the voice is gone. She raises her head, listening.
Why did it stop?
Suddenly, lightning streaks through the darkness, crashing into a tree not far from her.
She jumps to her feet; she can't see. She reaches out with her hands, feeling for anything. Falling to her knees, she touches the grass, the rocks, anything solid. The thunderclap comes and seems to break open the world, deafening her.
Am I going to die?
Suddenly, the rain stops. The sky opens, sunlight almost overwhelming her. She throws her arm over her eyes, bowing over her knees, trying to hide.
The water. It's gone.
She opens her eyes and can't believe what lies before her.
She's kneeling in a meadow. It's nightfall, dark and clear; stars stand out against a vague mistiness that softens their light. A small stream meanders slowly across the field. It is unbelievably peaceful. She sits on a small patch of lush grass for a moment; her breathing softens slowly.
The voice speaks again, "No, you are very much alive. But we are here. Here to save your world, but we cannot do it with-out your help?"
"Yes. Yes. What do you want? What have I done?" She hears other voices join the first, then more. She ventures a peek then, holding her hands in front to shade the glare from the light.
Before her, images of men and women appear, ethereal in form, luminescent, glorious. Her eyes open wide in wonder; she rises slowly to her feet and stands in amazement.
The beings hold out their arms to her and beckon her to sit on a small stool that suddenly appears at the edge of a stream. Willowy trees suddenly appear to shade the chair. It's a small sanctuary. She sits slowly, amazed by what is happening.
"Anisah, we have come to you for help. We cannot succeed without you, for it has been forbidden. Only you can do what we cannot."
They seemed to all speak with one voice.
How can this be; how can I help these beautiful beings? "
But what can I do? What can I possibly do?" she trembles, her voice quavering.
"The Ahar'n, the light of good must be found," they answer in accord, "without its return, this world will be destroyed. Look."
Anisah turns. The land whirls, dizzying her. Other images flow into her view. She sees a great room, a cavern, a light flashes an unbearable brilliance, she has to cover her eyes.
Shortly, she senses the light has dimmed and she is moving. She looks over her arms and sees the farms and meadows flowing beneath her, mountains come rushing toward her. She soars up and up, the mountains fly away below.
Abruptly, she pauses, hovering in the air, and can see clearly into a small cave where two men sit eating and talking. Somehow, something about the two men seems familiar, seems right.
Her flight continues and takes her over the mountains. The land is barren now; intense heat blasts upward toward her. The clouds seem to rip themselves apart, seem to be attacking the mountains to rise over them. Below, tented villages are scattered across an open desert, a great plain, only the green of scattered oases providing a change from the drab, dusty land.
The light flashes in her eyes again, and fades slowly. No longer over the barren land, she is looking down on two young men walking along a great road, chatting.
Another flash and she's standing in a street in a small town, its street bustling with activity. A woman walks from one of the buildings as she watches. Anisah catches her breath. The woman seems to be her, only older.
Is that me? Where am I? What am I doing? Why am I so much older?
She wants to ask why; she wants to know what this all means.
She's suddenly back in the sanctuary. The faces are visible again.
"Who are you? You must tell me what you want from me?" she implores them, "Please. I don't understand. I can't help if you won't tell me what you want."
"We cannot reveal more, this is all we can show you about what will be. You have seen what you need to. You will understand, you must. You have a power you do not know, you and the others you will meet. You will know them when the time arrives. Search your heart and, in that, you will learn what is to be done,"
Speaking as the one voice , their statements cause the words to buzz in her head.
"For you and your world, you must think about what you have seen in this moment. All is in jeopardy; all is lost unless you can find the answer,"
Then the voices become softer, murmuring and fade into silence. The images float away as though smoke, disappearing.
---------------------------
She woke with a start, sat up in her bed, stared wildly around her room. She stopped and closed her eyes again. Her hand fiercely clasped the crystal at her chest, her heart beating wildly.
She looked around again. Her bedroom was the same. She exhaled forcefully, realizing she was holding her breath. Her clothing was drenched.
What is happening to my life? Who were they? What can I do? Those places, those people, could be anywhere. Where do I start? Why was I older and where was I? What will my heart lead me to. How can I trust that when I'm so miserable with my life now? Does Old Bas have these horrible dreams?
“I'll ask him the next time I see him,” she muttered.
She lay down and, despite tossing and turning, drifted back to sleep with fantasies of places and things drifting lightly through her dreams. She knew she searched for the beings, but they were gone. She cried softly, tears blurring her eyes. She drifted into sleep exhausted.
When she woke again, it was late. She knew immediately she was in trouble. Brae’x would be talking about how lazy she was to her mother. Changing clothes quickly, she ran out into the kitchen, still buttoning her dress front.
"It's about time," Brae’x mumbled over the top of his stupid coffee cup, "Plan to sleep all day? We need to find you a good husband to straighten you out. Your mother and me don't seem to be able to do much with you anymore. You've gotten pretty uppity of late.”
“Sit down, eat your supper!" She jumped when he shouted, quickly sat down and began to eat. She turned to look, but her mother was looking away, not wanting to be involved.
She turned back to look directly at Brae’x. I think you should be more careful, Brae’x. Yes, I believe you walk on dangerous ground.
She glared at the man. Her eyes glinted.
Brae’x was staring at her, his brow bunched in a self-satisfied look, the one in power.
But slowly, his eyes began to wander away from hers. His face smoothed and he began to busy himself with his plate, shoving the food about as though preparing it to eat. She smirked at him and felt a certain pleasure knowing he had just become a little afraid of her.
She was seventeen now and considered old enough to marry. She had escaped that fate so far but she knew Brae’x wanted her out of the house. He talked about how a girl her age should be married by now and how he would have to do something about her impending spinsterhood unle
ss he could find her a man.
"Maybe marry her off to Old Bas, the tinker, when he comes through the village next time," he said. Old Bas was about eighty with wisps of white hair, small spindly arms and legs, and a great beer belly that hung over his trousers -- he looked as if he were carrying twins.
Anisah knew Brae’x was needling her and she didn't care what he said; the hardest part for her was her mother laughing at his stupid jokes.
She rose from the table and left for her room. Tears came to her eyes as she thought again about how things would be if her father were still alive. If only there was one more herb to try, if they had only known.
Known what? They tried everything Mistress Elspeth knew. She slumped on her bed dejectedly.
Suddenly she sat up as an old memory crept from the back of her thoughts like a mole stealing from its hole. Hadn't Old Bas, old and rickety though he was, once mentioned a school for healers somewhere in the south?
She remembered he told her it was in a city near the southern coast. Tariny was the name she remembered. Old Bas also told her of sailing ships and the exotic people found there.
Oh, how glorious if it was true. There she could learn those things that would have saved her father. It was too late for that, but not for the opportunity to help others.
How will I tell Mother what I want to do? She asked herself. Schools cost money and they had so very little, certainly not enough for anything so frivolous as an education.
"Oh blast! Why can't I go?" she muttered. There wasn't anything to stop her except herself.
“Just get up and go. Once I find the school possibly I could find a way to obtain money, or shelter -- cooking, cleaning, sewing or any of the other five hundred things I am forced to do every blessed day anyway.”
And now she used those skills for nothing more than the privilege of staying in her own home with her mother and her brothers and sisters.
She decided, at that moment, this was the best time. She had to leave and now, while it still seemed a good idea.
Anisah slid quietly out of her bed, to avoid waking the children sleeping with her.
Quiet as kitten paws on new fallen snow, she dressed in an old brown woolen pair of trousers she wore whenever she had to clean the muck from the horse stalls and all of the other unpleasant chores.
Over the trousers, she put on a dark blue tunic that had been her father's, a bit large but tied with a piece of rope from the shed, it would be fine.
She took her largest kerchief and spread it on the floor. On it she placed her only skirt of gray nubbin wool, her tunic of soft brown wool and flax blend wove with her own hands.
Another skill I can bargain with.
She pulled on her boots and laced them loosely. From over the fireplace she took a small chunk of bread, a few dried apples and figs, and a small bit of cheese. She placed these in her kerchief, carried the bundle and leaned it on the wall next to the door.
She gathered a few more items. Along with her tin cup from the table, a bit of twine and a fishing hook she stole from Brae’x's tackle box -- something no one was allowed to touch -- she gathered things as she thought of each need and bundled all these together to carry on her
back.
Carefully, so the old hinges wouldn't creak, Anisah lifted the lid on her mother's oak chest in the corner near the door and took out the short leather scabbard that held her father's hunting knife. She slid the blade, gleaming in the moonlight coming through the window, from the soft leather and looked at it for a moment, tears forming in her eyes.
Sliding the knife back into the scabbard, she set it down beside the handkerchiefs she bound together loosely to form a sling.
She suddenly felt the warmth under her top; the crystal her mother had only recently given her with no explanation. She asked her mother where the amulet came from and her mother only answered, "From your father."
Now she reached down and pressed it to her chest gently, and a tear rolled slowly down her cheek.
Shaking her head to stop from crying, she put her arm through the loop of the sling and seated it behind her shoulder.
Picking up the knife, she opened the door. Inch by inch she pulled it aside. Once the hinges groaned softly and she froze. Not hearing sounds of anyone moving in the house, she pushed the door open wide enough to slip through.
Once outside, she closed the door gently. She turned once to look back through the window of the tiny house, the only home she had ever known and saw her brothers and sisters tumbled about on their two beds. Her eyes began to water again.
She quickly wiped the tears flowing, despite her effort to be brave, and scurried down the path leading to the road out of town.
She didn't look back until she knew she couldn't see the house, stopped for a moment peering through the dark to catch just a glimpse, turned and ran farther down the road.
"Good riddance," Brae’x mumbled. He was standing in the dark looking out the window as the young girl ran down the path; he smiled to himself. "Just as long as she doesn't show her face around here any more."
In front of the tavern down the road a short distance, Old Bas watched the girl, nodded approval, turned toward the door and entered.