The gods are mysterious, Ma often said. Then she said it ever more often, especially after the Holy Men first came.
She started saying it when I was barely more than a babe, after I fell into the Amasa pool during the Wishing Ceremony, after I came out with my brown eyes two different shades of green and I started seeing those spirits and other fantastical creatures that only witches said they saw. She said it again when I was ten, and I began to have the Dreams. Not normal dreams, the sort you have when you fall into a sleep, but ones where I would be awake and then everything would switch off and then I’d be in another world. The neighbours said it too, after I told them about the one where there was a skeleton in the water and then Farmer Daz’ youngest drowned in the lake. Then everyone came to me when they were feeling jumpy and superstitious about something, and when they needed someone to interpret their dreams.
It was four years later that the Holy Men came, in the mid of Winter too. It was Zayra who first saw them, in her dreams. She told me about it the morning before they came, how she was atop a snow-capped hill and ownerless footprints came to her and a voice said, ‘Open the door.’ They said that too, instead of knocking, and I did. I knew who they were without needing to see them. They were the Holy Men, the ones who lived in and cared for Imra, the gods’ mountain haven for when they came down from the sky as humans. They wanted me to come and stay with them, for I was a great prophetess they said, and they needed one of those, they said. But Da wasn’t sure, I remember him getting angry and then they went away. But the next morn Zayra told me she had the dream again, and I knew they would be back next Winter. And I knew I would be going with them.
I spent much of the remaining time fantasizing about life so far away in Imra, and with Zayra too. I remember her asking me if she could maybe come; she was the only one I had told about my decision. I told her maybe she could, for she was a demigod, do you know, the daughter of Aedos, god of fire. I had seen this too through a dream, where she danced with a fire-breathing salamander. She thought me mad, but when her father heard of our conversation he told us the truth, of how her deceased mother had met the god upon an eve. I worried about her after that. None else knew of her heritage, but if they did it could be potentially dangerous. Once upon a time, demigods were killed because the Holy Men believed they wished to usurp their parents. The custom had mostly died out, though every now and then it was not uncommon to hear of traditionalists going on a demigod-hunt. I remember telling her maybe, while watching a bird alight on a branch.
When they came next Winter, I had my things ready. Ma and Da hadn’t said a word to me since the previous night, when I had told them of my decision. None of my siblings came to my room either, except Lugaru, or Luga, as I called him. I didn’t even know he was around. He was two years older than me, and always getting into trouble for his thievery. He’d been hiding out in the mountains for about a week now, since Farmer Daz’ prize sheep had been stolen. And yet he was my favourite brother; like Zayra he treated me no differently despite my gifts.
He leaned in the doorway and said to me, ‘Still going, eh?’
I nodded.
‘How long will you stay?’
‘As long as they need me.’ There was a blue spirit sitting on his shoulder, I wondered if its influence was the reason for what he said next.
‘I’m sorry.’
‘…Pardon?’
‘I’m sorry. If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have fallen into the Amasa.’ I smiled at him, shook my head.
‘It’s not your fault.’ It wasn’t. We had all three been there, I, Luga and Zayra. We’d been playing together by the water’s edge, opposite the older villagers who were still casting magic and praying fervently. I wasn’t careful, and I fell in. That was all.
But Luga only shook his head, though he didn’t verbally contest me. He looked out into the hall, and then back at me.
‘Ma and Da’ll be broken. First it was my hobbies (he always referred to his thieving as his ‘hobbies’), and now you’re leaving.’ I only smiled. I already knew Ma’s fate; I had seen it long ago. I used to cry when I was little, but I didn’t anymore. Life is Death. Death is Life.
‘You should hurry up and go, Luga. Daz’ sons have been searching for you.’ He smiled at me, and I decided that if he was to die whilst I was away, I would always remember him like that. The soft smile and cheek dimples accompanying it. The mad black hair that would not be tamed by Ma’s efforts, nearly brown in the sunlight streaming in. And the scar just behind his left ear, given to him by Zayra when we were still small.
‘Daz’ sons are all talk. You see them around now I’m here?’ He looked past me, at the world outside the window.
‘Why do those Holy Men want you again? Don’t they have enough prophetesses?’
I sighed. ‘The gods have rejected all their prophets for five years, Luga. They think that maybe the gods will not reject me, that they may find out the reason for their silence.’
‘And how can they tell that you are so special?’
‘They are Holy Men, Luga. They have their ways.’ He shook his head.
‘It’s all nonsense, in my opinion. Holy Men. Prophets. Anyway, good luck sister. Don’t forget to send messages.’ He seemed about to say something more, it was when the spirit disappeared that he finally spoke again.
‘If anything, anything at all, ever happens to you, find me. I don’t care for all the gods or Holy Men in the world; if they hurt you nothing will stop me.’ His face had turned whiter than normal; his eyes were black.
‘Calm down, Luga. Nothing will happen to me.’ He looked up at me. ‘Nothing will happen.’
#
Ma and Da said nothing as I walked outside into the snow. They stood at the door, but the only response to my wave was for Ma to return inside.
Zayra waited for me at the end of the road. I had asked her not to, but then she never listened to anyone. She’d been silent and withdrawn for the past few days, and she wasn’t any different now.
We walked in silence until we reached the hill. All the while, I’d noticed her struggling with something. Now she spoke.
‘Kata…’ I turned around. I was slightly ahead and so I looked back, I could see her playing with her fringe, pushing the silver hair back and then letting it fall down again.
‘Zayra?’
‘I…you’re not coming back, are you?’ I looked at her. She could just about pass as an elf, but she’d always looked different I suppose. Not quite elf, but not quite human. Her skin was not as white as the rest of ours, yet it wasn’t quite the fleshy pink of humans. She was older than me, the guardian Luga couldn’t be because he was never around, but now she looked weak and fragile. It was disconcerting.
‘I don’t know. I really don’t. Why?’
‘Because I, I…Kata I—‘ There was the crunching of boots on snow and we both looked up. A man in a hooded cloak was coming towards us from down the hill. By his white cloak and the belt of bells around his waist, I recognized a Holy Man. I bowed and so did Zayra.
The Holy Man stopped a few feet above me, and then he lowered his hood. He was human, and far younger than I expected, his light blonde hair was drawn back in a braid. But his eyes were old, they hid the secrets of the ages.
‘It is time, young one. Meet me at the hill’s summit.’ He replaced his hood, and began to walk back up the hill. Zayra stared after him, her gaze turned to me when I moved closer to her.
I hugged her. She was my friend; she would always be even if I didn’t return. She was slow to return the embrace, and when I began to draw away she pressed her cheek to mine. Her eyes were soft when she finally let me go, and then she withdrew something from her pocket. It was a locket, a silver star with my name inscribed.
‘I made it,’ she said, pressing it into my open palm. ‘It has magic inside. If you need me, just call my name.’
‘That’s all?’
‘That’s all.’ She smiled sadly, and then she turned her face away.
‘Goodbye Kata.’ Her voice cracked on the second note, and then she turned her back on me and began to walk down the hill, slowly. I watched her, and I felt a tear roll down my cheek. And then another.
I looked up, the Holy Man stood at the hill’s summit, his back to me. I looked at Zayra again. My past and my future.
Slowly, so slowly, I turned and began to ascend the hill.
The Holy Man did not talk at all as we went on our way. He was so silent, I was sometimes surprised to look to my left and see another there.
We were passing by the Forbidden Forest when he stopped and turned towards it. I didn’t notice he had stopped; I was talking to a yellow bat at my side. But then he vanished in a spout of green vapour, and I turned around.
‘We can’t go in there,’ I said to my silent companion. He turned to me.
‘There is a monster there. People who venture in, they don’t come back. They never come back.’ He still looked at me, and then a harsh wind blew and I had the feeling that we were not alone.
#
It was She. I could smell her, and I burned with the desire for her lifeblood. It had been so long. I didn’t think she would be one of the elf people. A human or magickind maybe, but not an elf.
But I could do nothing. I burned with desire and too with pain, for the Krusas’ presence was strong. But then I didn’t mind. I would wait. I had waited since and I would wait more. For I knew where the Krusas was taking her, to the Hallow Mountains. And though I knew I could not go there, could never go there, I knew when she would be back. And I would still be waiting.
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