3. Rourk
Chapter three
Rourk
I manage to move around the village with the crutches, though my steps are infuriatingly slow. I’m not used to feeling so helpless, but for now, I take each moment as it comes. I’m still getting used to my surroundings and I have a lot of questions about what I’ve seen.
The people around me have wide faces with flawless, smooth skin. Some have large foreheads or heavy brows, while others have powerful jawlines. Very few of the men have facial hair. They are mostly dressed in furs and woven clothing, looking very rugged and rural. A life spent in rough surroundings with meager possessions. What catches my attention is the vibrancy of their eyes, which are mostly vivid blue or emerald. Only a few have dark eyes, but even those have glints of bright color when they catch the light.
“And so, once the Fae Queen reconnected with her magic, she opened the rest of the world to the magic that was locked for so long,” Aldus tells me. He has a similar heavy tone and clipped way of speaking to the woman who had made the tea for me. It’s a slow, deliberate way of talking. While he speaks the Standard Tongue well, it’s clear he has picked up his own inflections and way of saying certain words.
“I don’t quite understand,” I say, hobbling beside him as we walk around. “How does a long-lost Fae bring magic to the entire world?”
Aldus gives a bewildered smirk that shifts his beard. “You will have to ask her that.”
“This Fae Queen,” I say. “Her name is Clio? Clio De’Kalo?”
Aldus shrugs. “We don’t know her name. People just call her the Fae Queen. They say she is with Arthur Bearon. That is a name we know well.”
“Oh?” I ask, feigning ignorance.
“The Grandson of the old Queen of the Oathlands, yes. He and his brother… Ryon, I believe.”
Well. That stings me a little.
“Anyway,” Aldus goes on. “The Lord Bearon rules now with his Fae Queen. A lot has changed in these past two weeks.”
“I can see that,” I say as I almost stumble on a rock.
“Stay,” Aldus says. “Rest here a moment.” He has a gentle hand when he helps me to sit on a nearby tree stump.
It’s a relief to know that Arthur and Clio still live. I have no way of knowing if my daughter May made it out of the attack alive, but I have to hold on to hope.
A glowing ball of golden light swoops through the air in the distance. A fairy? Like from the old stories? I shake my head and crack a smile. I had underestimated Clio, and I feel bad for having been so short with her for so long. It had only been near the end when I’d seen how good she was, and how strong of heart and mind. I hope I get the chance to apologize to her.
I ask more questions, and Aldus seems happy to entertain them.
“Those who had magic in their bloodline simply woke up one day to discover they could access their magical abilities,” he tells me. “They could summon magic, or fly, or control the elements, and many other unique gifts.”
“And that three-tailed fox I saw earlier?” I ask. “Where did he come from?”
Aldus raises a hand to encompass the field. “From all over. The fiorin have been revealing themselves these past two weeks.”
“Fiorin?”
“That’s what we call the magical creatures,” Aldus says. “We believed they had gone into hibernation, or simply vanished from existence once they were cut off from the magic that gave them life. People are looking into where the creatures were and how they have come back, I believe.”
I look up to see a short, older woman is approaching us. Her long auburn hair is tied back loosely, which emphasizes the round fullness of her face. Up close, I see she might be closer to Aldus’s age, with thin lines around her eyes as she gives me a broad smile.
“I see our guest is awake,” she says, coming to a stop before us and clasping her hands behind her. Her tanned complexion is a shade of maroon, more red than brown .
“Magdalena,” Aldus says. “I was hoping we would see you.” He turns to address me. “Tarin. This is Magdalena Othas, a village elder.”
“Oh, shush,” Magdalena says with a wave of her hand. “My mother is an elder. I am still a… youngster.”
They share a quiet laugh.
Their deliberate, controlled speech has a formal air about it. It reminds me of the way people used to speak in the olden days. A way that some people make fun of these days on account of how stiff they sounded.
Magdalena says, “I hope you do not mind me saying. You are far thinner than when you were first brought in. Allow me to have a meal prepared for you. You must be starving.”
“Galene has been tending to him,” Aldus says with a defensive air. “Our guest is well cared for.”
“Of course,” Magdalena says with a polite smile. “I simply meant we have some sister wives preparing lunch, and that I can spare a plate for our Oathland guest.”
“That is very kind of you. Thank you,” I reply. “You’re a… village elder, is it?”
“Some day,” she says. “In training, you might say. Though some already see me as one. But, no, my mother is the elder. I’m sure you will meet them. They are nice.”
“Everyone here seems very nice,” I say, not counting Galene. “I’m embarrassed to say we have the Wildland folk wrong back home.”
“But of course you do,” Magdalena says diplomatically. “As do we, with you Oathlanders, I’m sure. It has been so long since our people have communicated.”
“Old blood,” I say. “Old ways. Change can be difficult.”
She gives me a knowing look with a small smile. She seems like a smart one, with quiet intelligence and a calculating way about her. I’ve always thought I could read people well, and can see that same quality in others who share it.
“I agree,” she says. “One thing you should know is that we are not Wildland folk. We are the Shanti People. Very different, I assure you. I believe many across the land think of us as savages, but that is because they do not know us. They confuse us with the real savages out there.”
I’m getting used to the slow, controlled manner of speaking these people have. And Magdalena’s low voice has a soothing quality. It feels odd to have them both standing over me while I’m sitting.
“Shanti People,” I repeat. “I’m afraid we do not know of your people.”
Aldus nods. “We prefer to keep it that way. Stay out of others’ affairs and keep to our own.”
“There is so much conflict in the world,” Magdalena says with a frown that creases her brow. “Terrible wars. Many deaths. You’ve seen your fair share, I imagine. All know the warring between The Kingdom and the Oathlands.”
“I’m relieved to hear there is still an Oathlands to return to,” I say. I don’t tell them the particular circumstances how I had left the Oathlands and ended up washed up by a riverbank, although I see the question in their eyes. It’s not something I’m ready to think about, and especially not something I want to talk about. With strangers. Who may or may not be bad people.
I’m having a hard time deciding.
“And we will get you back there,” Magdalena says. “I must go help the sister wives for now. Please, Tarin, if you need anything, please ask. I’m happy to help. I will return with some food that I’m sure will satisfy you.” She pauses and adds, “You eat mucus and fish eyes, correct?”
My face freezes.
Magdalena and Aldus both break into laughter.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “Just teasing. I couldn’t help myself.” She chuckles, holding a hand against her stomach.
What an interesting sense of humor.
I nod my thanks as she leaves us.
“Is there more to see?” I ask Aldus. “I have the strength to keep walking now.”
Aldus seems to consider that. “I will continue the tour, yes. If you’ll follow me.”
I take a deep breath and sigh as I rise to my feet and begin walking with the crutches. Magdalena was right. I have lost some weight and muscle. My arms still have some shape to them but they’ve lost their fullness.
Children’s laughter carries in the wind, mixing with the low hum of conversations and people mingling about. Many eyes are on me, I notice. They all want a good look at the foreigner in their midst. One small child whimpers when she sees me and hides behind the legs of her mother.
“What is a sister wife?” I ask Aldus .
“What you call a widow,” he responds. “They devote their time to care for the village, as they would care for their husbands.”
“Is that a common thing here? Losing husbands?”
“We have hostility toward no one, and none to call our enemy. But the Wildlands, as you call it, can be a dangerous place. There are few laws and rules out here, and no one to maintain order but ourselves. And I believe you’ll find there are more diseases and ailments in these less civilized parts of the world.”
“You seem very civilized to me.”
Aldus nods. “And yet there are those who would look down upon us, and our way of living.”
“That’s The Kingdom folk you’re thinking of. Us Oathlanders are far more welcoming and open to others. Well, compared to them, anyway.”
He stops and eyes me firmly. “I used to think that was the right way of thinking. ‘Us’ and ‘them’. Which folk are better, and which are worse? But, as I get older, I see how futile that way of thinking is. I’d like to see us all as one people. All living in the same world, with the same desires to live, to be warm and fed, and to find some semblance of peace in our lives.”
“Well said.” I’m impressed. “If only others had some of your wisdom.”
We round a fence and head towards a collection of vegetable patches. The ground is more even here, and walking on the short grass is better than the rocky earth.
“You said you are a… keeper of books?” I remember what he’d told me earlier.
“I did say that. I am someone who cherishes the past dearly and holds on to it. I have a grand collection of books which I hope will educate the next generations, so they know the past and can use it to shape their future.”
“If we do not know our past,” I say, “we cannot learn from our mistakes.”
Aldus raises an eyebrow, clearly just as impressed with me as I am with him. A small smile curves his mouth upward. “Exactly. Some tease me for my collection, and it has earned me the title Keeper of Books.”
“We call it a historian,” I say.
“Yes. We have that term, as well.”
As we walk, Aldus points out notable people and places to me. He points to the tops of the larger tents over the huts where many families live. Up on a hill is where they pick flowers. I learn that flowers have many benefits and purposes here. They add them to their food, their tea, and their medicine.
We pass a group of elderly women who seem lost in their own worlds as they pick seeds from fruits and pop beans from their shells.
A young man with flowing long hair is coming out from a collection of trees. He is bare-chested and has a muscular physique, but a softness around the edges that makes him look more like a boy than a man. A wet sack is over his shoulder.
“Freddick,” Aldus says. “How are the fish today?”
“Bountiful,” Freddick says with a beaming grin. There is a bounce to his step, and he seems to brim with energy. The wet stench of fish is coming from the sack over his shoulder, and beads of water on his torso are glistening in the sunlight.
Freddick’s eyes widen when he sees me. “Oh, it’s you. I mean, you’re… I didn’t think you were…”
“Our guest, Tarin, is awake and moving about, yes,” Aldus says. “I’m sure at this point you’re the last to know.” He gestures to the young man and says to me, “Freddick here is our newest hunter.”
“What do you hunt around here?” I ask.
“Whatever the land provides,” Aldus says. “Rabbit. Wild boar. Fish. Frogs. Birds. The occasional snake, when we find edible ones. We used to have chickens, but they died off.”
“And crickets,” Freddick says, scrunching his face. “The worst.”
I figure he must barely be out of his teens. I can’t imagine him taking down a wild boar. That must be why they are having him catch fish.
“I was just going back to hand the fish to the sister wives,” Freddick says, “before I head back to the fishermen. But I can find a cup of water for you.”
“Oh, that’s okay, really,” I say, but my words go unheeded.
“It’s no trouble at all. It would be my pleasure. Here, I will be right back before you know it.” He flashes an infectious grin.
Freddick rushes off before I can stop him. Some water does sound good, though. I’m regretting not drinking that tea Aldus’s daughter had made for me .
“Freddick is untested, but eager to do well,” Aldus says to me. “He is hungry to do as many Tasks as he can. He should make a formidable hunter when he’s older.”
I stretch my shoulders and my neck when my muscles cramp up. I’m still getting used to my arms doing most of the work while walking and my muscles have started to burn.
Aldus leads me to a small hut where an old lady is sitting outside. Beside her is a log that has a cushion draped over it. I sit on the cushion with a heavy breath, feeling sweat beading on my forehead. The woman is staring at me, but she seems unbothered. Her deeply tanned complexion has a strong red hue to it. I nod and smile at her and she goes back to knitting something that looks like clothing.
I’m still adjusting to how these Wildmen live. No, not Wildmen. I should stop thinking of them like that. The Shanti People. They seem so peaceful and cultured.
Aldus looks away when I catch him watching me closely.
“Why are you helping me?” I ask him, growing serious. “You could have left me for dead. You didn’t have to bring me all the way out here to your village.”
He takes a second to answer, as if he’s wondering what to tell me. “It is our way. Our way of life means we will help others, if it does not endanger us.”
“I could be a threat to you,” I say.
“You were hurt and in need of medical attention. And you were close to our borders. Our ways say we should help you, whether or not there are negative consequences because of it. ”
I feel like there’s more he isn’t telling me, but I don’t press the matter.
“Well, thank you, for saving my life,” I say.
He nods slowly and presses a hand over his heart. I take that to mean a gesture of gratitude, or thanks.
Freddick soon returns with a clay cup of water. “Boiled and cooled, just as your people like.” He passes it to me with gentle hands, patient as I readjust my weight on the crutches to be able to hold the cup. Freddick sneaks a look at Aldus, who gives him a kind smile and a nod of the hair.
“Good on you, Freddick,” Aldus says.
Freddick dips his head in thanks and sharply turns and strides away, off toward the trees and a streaming river, before I can remember to thank him.
I turn back to speak to Aldus, but something catches my eye. Two women hang laundry together in the grassy fields across from us, opposite the river. They work quickly and gracefully, but there’s something about one of them that feels at once familiar and unknown. It’s the way she carries herself, the way she moves, that has me captivated. Stark blue eyes meet mine from across the distance, as if she felt my gaze. And that’s when I recognize her.
There she is again. The woman with the dark hair and the strange hostility. It isn’t the underlying annoyance that has me turning away from her and back to Aldus, but the reminder that those blue eyes bring. Aldus called her Galene. His Galene.
“That is your daughter?” I ask, trying to cover up that I was just staring at her right in front of him .
Aldus says, “That’s my youngest. Galene.” He’s turned to face her now, and I can’t help but do the same once more.
She notices us watching her, and she gives me a fiercely hot scowl, like she’s trying to kill me with a look.
“She doesn’t seem to like me very much,” I say.
“She doesn’t like foreigners.”
I catch a hesitant note in this voice and think there’s more he isn’t telling me.
Galene flashes another glare my way before turning her back and deciding I don’t exist. Fair enough. I don’t need her to like me, anyway. It’s easier for me if she doesn’t, actually.
I look around and think about how far away from home I am. I’m at the mercy of these people. People I still don’t really know. People I can’t fully trust, if at all. I have to wonder if I’m truly safe here with them.
I continue to study my surroundings and start making plans to leave. Whether or not they’ll let me leave is something I’ll have to wait and see.