Sighing, he sat on one of the stones and patted the hard surface. I lowered myself next to him reluctantly. The stone seemed to warm at my touch. I ran my hands along their surface. I couldn’t admire them knowing animals had lost their life on them, yet a deep calmness settled in my chest when I touched them. The necklace under my dress heated as it did when I saw Tristram.
Closing my eyes, I allowed the security of the stones to hold me in their grasp. Instead of the darkness I expected behind my closed lids, I was met with a brightness as if I were under the sun on a mountain top. I breathed the fresh air rushing my lungs.
“Your knowledge. I sense from you a great understanding.”
His words pulled me from the mountain top and the fresh scents of evergreen, healthy with vitality; and into the golden forest in which we were sat, where summer was fading and the harsh realities of winter crept its bitter touch towards us.
“I didn’t do anything, Father.” I stared up at him, unwilling for him to think I was up to no good. Yes, I may be a poor student, but I never tried to be a bad daughter. “I didn’t try to make it happen.”
From under robust brows he watched me intently, before leaning in and nudging his shoulder against mine—the most fatherly action he’d made towards me in a while. “These things, we never ask for them.”
I didn’t speak. I watched and waited. His face smoothed into that far away expression he held when he mentally dipped into the wealth of knowledge only he owned. Unlike when I was a child, when I’d cross my legs and await eagerly for his words, I remained ramrod straight.
“In the times past, magic and reality entwined themselves, one thread of gold, weaving itself with the red of the other. Tightly bound they wound themselves into the fabric of the existence of our forebears.” I leant a little closer. “Close your eyes, Mae.” I did, my eyelashes fluttering shut. “The gold thread contained the energy, the power of magic. From the earth, it sourced the good fortune of ancient races of men, guiding them to fertile lands, bringing harvests, bountiful fruits, the right water to drink when others would have made us sick.
“While the red was man himself, running with blood and flesh, it bent to the will of man. Following the deepest darkest desires of the human soul.”
With my eyes closed, the golden energy warmed in my veins. “What happened?”
Unwillingly, I opened my eyes, losing my vision of the virile twisting gold and red threads within the depth of my imagination.
“Red and gold can’t exist for long in peace.” His bright eyes settled on my face, his hand reaching for mine and squeezing my fingers. My stomach clenched, a deep unease settling in the pit of my tummy.
“Why?”
He turned his attention to the trees. Scorched and burned they stared back remorse, their glorious palace of strength brought down by my father’s arrangement of the stones. “Because man wants to control everything and any power they don’t understand will be extinguished.”
“But the threads were closely entwined?” In my vision they seemed to be equal, supporting one another almost.
His fingers squeezed mine. “Until men realised the power those containing the magic held. Then they wanted it themselves, unwilling to leave things as they were, they sought it, wanted to control it.”
“Do you feel the magic?” I bit on my bottom lip with my question.
Slowly he shook his head. “No, the skill was lost a long time ago. I can guide it, as can that Kneel Woman, but I don’t have it within me. I’m the High Priest because I sense it. I’m closer to it than most, so Alen keeps me close to hand; better to have the power men crave as close as possible.”
I didn’t correct him and remind him Alen was dead. Tristram would now be the one keeping him close.
Surprising me, he laughed, tilting his head back and shouting into the trees. “But now we have it returned.”
“Me?” I backed away a little, but he held my fingers tight.
“You, my child. It is more than I ever dreamed.” His eyes sparked with excitement. “Do you know what this means? You can help us prevent famine, you can lead us to fight these invaders. You hold the future of our people in your hands.”
I shied away. “No, Father, Tristram does.”
His eyebrows knotted, his hands clenching. “You cannot tell Tristram of this.”
“Why?” Forcing myself free, I jumped from the stone. My connection with it didn’t end. Just as it had warmed me as I sat on its surface, when I pulled away I felt its immovable strength linger deep within my veins.
“Because he is of the red thread. It runs deep within him. It’s the red tie to humanity which puts him in charge. Alen was the same. Men who are meant to fight, to lead; their greed knows no bounds. He will find a way to use the magic, to turn it to his needs.”
“Why would he have to turn it?” I whirled, my hands clenching into fists. “I would willingly guide him, help him. Give it to him.”
“No.” Father’s barked word doused the fire in my heart. “Those of the red can’t be helped. Can’t be guided. They are and always will be guided by their greed and misunderstanding of the complicated balance between right and wrong.”
“But, Tristram wasn’t meant to lead us, he was the second son.”
Father scorned me with a brutal laugh. “You’ve a lot to learn, Mae. The will of man, the thread of red and blood always fulfils its own purpose. If Tristram is now our leader, then it was always meant to be so.”
“Bu—”
He held his hand. “Forget your childish fancies, Mae. Your path is now no longer yours. You shall grow great, you shall guide
