|
 It was a fine crop of berries
at that. Along the riverbank, under the scattered pines and among the gray-green
clumps of lichen, the round blue ones were deepening from red to purple
as their sour taste mellowed into piquant sweetnest. Briar patches too
were heavy with their black, tangy berries, and during the daylight hours
of toil, slender pale forms would reach long fingers between thorns to
gather the ripe ones.
Now Almeck extended his weakened
hands carefully, slowly relieving first one bush, then another, of its
sweet burden. Even the mild tartness of the blueberries seemed a bit too
biting, an assault upon the senses of a body too recently ravaged. He sighed.
Settling back to rest --perhaps a double handful of berries later -- he
scarcely noticed when his eyes closed and his spirit slipped free of its
weary shell. But suddenly he found himsef with the revelers on the other
side of the hill, surrounded by the siles and doings nof his kin. There
was Talen, his face smeared withdeer grease, lying contentedly in Selnac's
arms. Marreck cracked a marrowbone to share with Jennah, whild Menolan
amused others by setting fire to a boulder that inconveniently blocked
the shorest way from the cook-fire to the spring. Enlet, returning to the
feast-circle with a drinking gourd full of water, halted to watch his father
with admiring eyes. His own fire-magic was still weak and unpredictable,
and such flourishes were generally beyond him. Almexk even saw Oraynah
hunkered down happily next to the cooking fire, one hand brandishing a
roasted rib, the other making stabbing motions to punctuate whatever hunting
tale she was telling. Beyond the circle of firelight and feasting, the
moons rose over the forest. Behind the gathering of his kin, Almeck could
see many dark hummocks scatter at the base of the cliff. Some reached for
the sky in odd, upward-pointed shapes, like the branches of fallen trees.
Thest ere the corpses of the blackneck herd, littering the glade at the
base of the rock wall. The moons rose silently over the carnage scene.
The herd had numbered perhaps forty,
including fawns and a smattering of gray-chins. Now all lay broken together
where thy had been driven to their deaths by the elfin hunters. Two or
three had been butchered to provide the night's feast and, of the others,
perhaps a dozen could be stripped and the meat preserved before rot and
wild scavengers rendered the kill unuseable. Some of the hides would be
removed and tanned by magic, but many deer would lie unclaimed and unused,
except by the foxes and the vultures and the carrion crows.
In the glade where Almeck's body
lay motionless, a shadow detached itself from the forest and glided cautiously
into the clearing. A young bobcat, a male, sniffed suspiciously at the
unfamiliar scent of elf. Unknown to Almeck, he had chosen a resting place
near the edge of the small predator's territory; the berry-rich glade was
also home to dozens of ravvits, the small cat's most favorite food. The
scent of an unknown larger creature might be enought to kee the sky feline
from following his course towoard the river. But elves were not habitual
hunters of bobcats, and tonight the young male had other things to concern
him. He circled the grove on huge, noiseless pads, giving Almeck's body
as wide a berth as possible, then disappeared down the slope toward the
river. A sweet scent, borne on the breeze wafting from the riverbank, touched
and tatalized the deepest part of his wild brain. It would take more than
the presense of an unconscious elf to keep the cat from answering that
sweet lure tonight.
In spirit form, Almeck was attuned
to a depth of things not usually visible to him. About each body of a feaster
glowed the bright aura of his or her living spirit. The life-forms of the
ground and forest glowed with a different light. Recognizing the comforting
presence of his plant acquaintences, Almeck drifted closer, close enough
to catch an occasionaly flicker of sending as thoughts made their way from
one elfin mind to another. Suddenly several minds paused, and all focused
their attention upon one child, Khyra. That youngling had not yet seen
eleven summers, and now her wide blue eyes were fixed expectantly upon
the face of her mother. Her aura was bright with question and longing.
The faces of her elders reflected pain, and also guilt; several of them
slid their eyes away. Almeck puzzled. What could the child have asked?
Then, slowly, faintly, one mind began to answer. An image of their sky-ship
was held up in their midst. It was Samael, and he was not projecting his
own memories (for he was one of the earth-born) but relating his version
of a story once given him by an elder.
Khyra had a remarkable gift of
projection. The images she received she held up in her aura to study with
her intense need to know, so clear that even Almeck could perceive them.
A flying ship was beyond her, so she imagined a great rock like a mountain
hanging suspended above the clouds. Time travel? Shapeshifting? To this
child of the mud and cold of the two-mooned world, these concepts had no
reference or meaning. Samael's sending faltered and came to and end. The
firstcomers turned their heads away, their minds closed up in pain and
in sham that they could not answer. They could barely face the memories
of all they had lost, let alone communicate them to this bright, asking
child. Khyra as unsatisfied; he could feel her curiousity gathering again
into another brilliant burst. THen Almeck saw Nefahrin steel herself mentally,
slide her eyes back to meet Khyra's, and begin to speak. She began to describe
their ship, their quest, their accident, using words without sending images
behind them. Her mind was strong and disciplined, and she held it completely
closed. Before the Fall she had been one of the Sighters, those who reached
out through time and space to find worlds the life-sphere might like to
visit, providing direction to the motive power of the Guiders. Now her
power served her for nothing. She was a decent basket weaver, here on the
world of two moons, and she used only the words of her lips to give some
sense of their origins to Khyra. Honerable, unswervingly responsible, she
could not leave the child completely in the dark. In spirit-form, Almeck
could not hear the exact workds Nefahrin spoke. But he could watch their
effect upon the mind of Khyra, whose life-glow momentarily darkened and
brightened, with confusion or understanding. And now the child formed no
images at all. She could only imagine, not see, the story Nefahrin told
her.
For one time in his tranquil life,
Almeck was filled with a tearing, helpless rage. His spirit blazed like
skyfire as he send it swirling into the treetops in frustration, sent it
pulsing aling the life-lines of the forest around the cook-fire. His kin
were sick, they were losing the life of the mind in the mud of this alien
planet! Cut off from its healing teachings by their crippled powers, most
of the levels never flet connected to anything anymore. The creatures of
fire who had survived the Fall were dying inside and their children, born
on the two-mooned world, were growing up in puzzlement and ignorance. Only
Timmain could tap into the new world's life-currents, and the measure of
healing she brought to her kinfolk was short-lived. Almeck's spirit pooled
in a wide circle of green light round his still and darkened body. Healing
-- his people needed healing in spirit and in mind! They needed a way around
their pain as he had his way through the plants -- some way to make the
pain disappear, to let minds fly free again without fear. But how? Neither
he nor Timmain could transfer their powers to any other elf, just as one
could not drink water for a thirsty friend or eat for one who was starving.
No possible way. He turned away in frustration, feeling there was nothing
else to see amoung the feasters. He gathered his spirit and prepared to
reinhabit his still-quiet body.
Something caught one edge of his
spirit-circle as he was drawing inward, as though a thorn had hooked the
hem of a leather cloak. It was a little bump, or ripple in the otherwise
serene web of plant life-spirits he could feel In and out of the pale green
glow of the plant-consciousness wove a chereful purple thread of -- something
else. Not the normal, red-orange glow of animal life, but an aura altered,
merged with the plants' -- an animal note but sounding in harmony
with the gree. What was going on? His return to form momentarily forgotten,
Almeck drew himself over to concentracete on the little patch of mossy
ground.
The bobcat crouched on a pile of
crushed herbage, eyes narrowed to slits of pure bliss. A raspy purr rumbled
in his throat. The potent scent of wild catnip hung heavy in the moist
night air. Growing in profusion among the nettles on the riverbank its
scent was irrisistible to most wild creatures of the cat family. Its essential
oils, inhaled, touched the most ancient parts of a feline's brain, setting
off a cascade of emotions and responses. Earlier the woods along the river
had been witness to a most extraordinaty scene: the normally reserved and
graceful young bobcat pouncing like a kitten into the patch of catnip,
biting eagerly at the minty leaves, releasing more of the intoxicating
scent with every stem he crushed. He rolled and wriggled on the ground,
strangely reminiscent of a female bobcat in heat., and indeed the sensations
coursing through his brain might well have resembled those of a female
in the grip of sweet spring mating madness. His initial euphoric energy
spent, the cat was content now to remain blissfully still, enjoying the
strange state of catnip catatonia.
A beautiful incongruity -- a feline
spirit wandinering freely in the world-green! Almeck had not seen anything
like it before on this planet -- but then how often had he truely seen
the green before Timmain showed him the key to its secrets? Hovering by
the bobcat's entranced body, he sensed it's life-force near, its spirit
padding lazily through the forest's essence as its body would in life.
He had an impression of great eyes turning to regard him. The cat was aware
of him, but unconcerned. The cat drew Almeck's attention back toward the
life-glow of the forest. The music of the world was open to him; he could
catch it in his claws like little rodents, romp through it like a pile
of autumn leaves. Almeck felt the tug of that song on his own heart. He
smiled sadly at that ironly. Now here was a mortal creature born to live
a few seasons at best on this primitive world; for all the subtleties of
the elfin people, for all their ages of sentience and eons of complexity,
his folk could not equal the simply wisdom of the cat. Once his people
had had community -- as "one heart and one mind" had been their
seperate hearts and minds, and no heart needed to shut itself up in grief
when , ever and always, comfort was as close as the touch of a neighboring
mind. Now comfort was elusive, misunderstanding flared and smoldered, and
madness stalked their grief-enshrouded souls. Unlike the earth-born cat,
the elves no longer knew their road to unity.
The bobcat's spirit was returning;
the simple power of the catnip was clearing from its brain. It stirred
in its trance. Now himself, now one with the world, the cat blinked. A
good night's wander was coming to an end as the drug wore off. Almeck sensed
that perhaps he, too, should take up his flesh again. The eyes of the cat's
settling spirit met his once more as he backed ofrom the bobcat's grove.
How could he help but envy this animal, who was at peace with himself in
a way the elves could not match anymore? One heart and one mind, thought
Almeck as he lay back down into his body. One heart and one mind -- not
anymore! Almeck felt the tingling of his spirit's return to flesh.
Suddenly, revelation struck! Heedless
of the spots that swam before his eyes, Almeck started up so suddenly that
he lost his balance. He stumbled into the bushes with a resounding crash.
Ten feet away a bobcat jumped up, eyes round as the two full moon, and
fled away like skyfire into the darkened forest. The answer was before
him! Bodies: it was their bodies that were the problem. And plant essences
could influence their bodies! He felt like running over the hill shouting
the news to his ailing kinfolk. The answer! The cure! The end to all our
sickness! But telling them without showing them would not bring them the
certainty that he suddenly felt -- he had seen things most of the others
had no inkling of, and in their weakened state he might seem merely another
madman in their midst. He would do his work and set it before them finished,
smiling. He looked around the grove. Was there something he could use?
Yes, here was something right at had that would suffice! A tremendous joy
ran through him. At last, perhaps, he could use his powers for lasting
good for his friends and kinfolk. He knelt on the soft green moss and took
one berry bush's slender twigs between his fingers. He took a moment to
discipline his mind then slipped into a shaper's trance and felt his life-force
flowing out into the green, minling with the pulsing life around him. His
mind and body reverberated with the opening music of the world-song, and
now he joined his spirit-voice to that song. He was being swept away in
a river of green and he reveled in the river. He bent his will to teach
the little plant to sing in harmony with the alien voices from the stars.
The living wood responded; he could feel the change imprinting on the life-codes
of the green being he held in his hands. Mutation moved like sunrise, first
lighting one bush, then the next in the small grove around him. He did
not notice when his spirit danced free of his body, set free by his shaper's
magic. The green glow faded from his hands and from around the berry bushes.
They held their fat and juicy cargo with new dignity, as though keeping
a pregnant secret within. Almeck's soul shouted and ran though the world-green,
reunited, at one with the world and with joy. There was nothing he could
not do, all places in the world were one. He gave a thought to the land
of frozen mountains, and to his surprise he seemed to see the Palace, as
if from a great height -- was it full of ice? No, that was a mistake --
his vision cleared and it glowed with its warm and welcoming light -- and
in the doorway, arms wide -- was that Seeree? In the green?! He laughed,
and flowers climbed the walls; behind Seeree , a throng of old friends
and companions, waving up at him, laughing and shouting. Dimly he felt
a tug from another place, a pale elf-body slumped on a carpet of moss in
a twilight forest far away. But why hurry? All time and space had opened
wide for him, and here and now were his old friends, welcoming him back,
alive, rejoicing, and the Palace, long-list home, warm and golden as the
summer sun! There was no one left in the grove to notice the subtle change
in the glossy leaves, in the way the heavy purple berries gleamed ripe
in the moonlight. Almeck had so much to tell his old friends!
It was only later that Samael,
coming over the hill with a bwol of steaming broth, found Almeck's still
form slumped beside the berry bushes. At his cry Enlet and Timmain were
the first two over the hill and Segray came running with her back of herbs.
Samael watched with tears starting as the healer kneltbeside the body,
only to confirm , as she touched Almeck , what the three knew already:
these Fallen had seen death much too often not to recognize when it claimed
one of their own. Almeck's body lay still in the quiet moonlight as the
tribe straggled over the hill to gather silently about him.
The faces of the firstcomers were
frozen, numb, perhaps , to new grief in a world that seemed to hand them
noting but endless causes for sorrow. From the younger, questions and confusion
filled the air: ** He wasn't that ill! How could he die from
sickness? ** ** Who saw him last? Was anything wrong with
him this afternoon? ** ** He'd been a bit touched for a while,
you know. ** ** Yes, and now the white-cold's coming! What
will we do when summer tree-bowers need their winter mending? **
Samael bent to the vegitation.
"But -- Look -- Timmain -- these bushes!" Samael had noticed
the subtle change in the ones closet to the body. The berries gleamed fat
and purplescent, larger than before, and a faint magic vibration still
clung to the leaves. As Timmain broke a twig off the nearest bush, twirling
it thoughtfully between her fingers, Enlet pushed forward. "To use
his last strength to shape a berry bush? Instead of calling for
help? Why, Timmain? What would he have been thinking?!" The red-haired
youth was close to tears. Handing him a purplescent berry, she stared thoughtfully
at the juice now staining her fingers. Samael looked on, confusion knitting
his brow. "Timmain, why do you think he made these? So -- So
we would remember him?"
Timmain looked around the grove,
noting the many bushes that now gleamed with that new, changed light. Fat
juicydark berries nestled under every leaf. Her eyes aquired a far-off
expression, as though recalling a green place where fear and sorrow were
forgotten. "Yes, " she said. "We will remember."
|
This story is an exerpt from
'In Memory Green' which
appeared in Dark Hours,
Blood of Ten Chiefs Vol 5
Written by:A. Cascorbi
& R Pini
Copyright Warp Graphics |
|
