If I shut my eyes, I could see him. Sometimes he was all I could see and dream about. But around the constant he provided, as annoying and childish as he could be, there was a dim dark cloud. I couldn’t believe I could ever choose him as mine. There was no explanation why; I just sensed it. If I probed into my future, there was nothing other than a dark abyss of nothing. Never more had I wanted my training to be over, so I could control the sight like my father did. Then I’d know. Then I’d know what my destiny held for me.
“Thanks for the stone,” I turned to Heather, starting with surprise when her space was filled with fresh air and the Knee Woman was nowhere in sight.
I turned the purple gem in my hand. It wasn’t one I recognised—yet another example of how far in my lore training I still had to travel. I sighed. The Kneel Woman was known for her cryptic ramblings, but we all smiled and let her get on with it, after all she was the one who guided most new life into the settlement with little tragedy. But a jewel? With a shrug, I popped the chain over my head. If it helped with my studies, I wasn’t going to dismiss it. In fact I’d never take the thing off—I needed all the help I could get. The earth gave us many tools, and stones and crystals were essential for multiple tasks. Maybe this was the crystal of remembrance, in which case I needed it more than any other.
I sighed and sat for a moment. It was quiet, calm out there at the furthest edge of the settlement. Behind me the forest stood and waited. Would it provide more food today? Turning on the log I searched into the trees. Withering beech trees shook their golden leaves at me and I smiled at their pretty dance. Behind them a solid oak, the tree of our people, loomed large and strong. Like the tree, so tall and proud, our people would never fall—I’d make sure of it, even if took me countless years to learn how to help them.
I closed my eyes, relaxing with every breath. To wander in one’s own mind was a great achievement. There was a place you could find where you could just be, the future stretching before you, the past settled, drifting with the sands of time—unchangeable and complete.
Meditation was a challenge. My brain didn’t want to settle, my thoughts never wanted to still. Every time I cleared my mind, another thought would jump in. How was I supposed to expand my foresight, if I could find it, due to the endless chatter my own mind created? I was doomed.
Ignoring my nagging self-doubts, I cleared my mind. Then I cleared it again. I focused on the log underneath my dress, refusing to let my brain think of anything other than the old tree and the way its rough surface was scored and lined with age.
The gentle hum of rain falling through leaves caused me to lift my face, expecting to find damp droplets falling. I opened my eyes when no rain fell on my skin. Closing my eyes, I heard it again.
Most strange.
I was happy sitting in the quiet, playing with the sound of rain, when the shout of my name rose loudly from the depths of the village. My stomach dipped when I recognised the voice hollering.
What was I going to do if he was glowing from his time laying with Glynis?
Swallowing a hard lump in my throat, I steeled myself. I would act as any baduri, any priestess, would. I’d treat him, help him, and then I’d shut myself in my hut and curse the day I’d ever laid eyes on him.
I stomped to the central hearth, the scene of the festival last night. The common ground, its fire pit and free space was for the use of everyone. Our settlement was circular, dotted round houses all faced in towards the hearth. Surrounding us, a low brick wall formed an encasement which prevented children wandering, and wild animals venturing in. Behind the wall was the forest and wilds of our land.
Tristram was laid on a plank of wood, clutching his head—still in the same clothes he’d worn the night before. I contemplated the wilds of the forest. I would rather be there than glaring at the man before me.
“My Mae,” he clutched at my hand, pulling it tight to his chest, “Why do you allow me to suffer?”
I yanked my hand away and surveyed his face. Golden thick hair covered his jaw, the skin under his eye shadowed. “You did this to yourself,” I replied, my voice sharp.
Unable to help myself, I glanced at Glynis' door which was still shut. I relaxed a little but not entirely.
“Come help me, Mae. Deacon said you cured his ails.” His eyes were screwed closed, his long fingers working the bridge of his straight nose.
“Maybe Deacon didn’t suffer as bad as you because he didn’t partake in all the many things you did.”
With his fingers still squeezing the skin between his fair brows, one eye popped open, and he levered onto an elbow, wincing as he moved. “And what exactly do you think I partook in?” His skin turned to an ashen hue and he fell back. “This is your father’s fault, that honey wine is unnecessarily strong.”
I smirked. “I think the man who overindulges is the one to blame, not the man who made it.”
Tristram groaned and mumbled something about magic which I dutifully ignored.
Sighing and muttering under my breath, I went to the fire and scooped up a bowl of bubbling water. Clear and scorching, the liquid slopped in the earthenware vessel as I reached into the leather belt around
