Page 35 of Somewhere down the Ley Line
“Sorry,” he muttered, glancing away.
“Oh, Felix…” she said, startled. “I was just going to see the elder. Hello, Leif.”
“Hi!” Leif chirped, apparently delighted to be acknowledged.
“Alone?” Felix asked, frowning. “I’ll come with you.”
She opened her mouth as if to argue, but nodded instead and swept past him. Felix turned and followed her to the large wooden hall. Of course, Leif fell into step beside them without waiting for an invitation.
Inside, the elder sat at a long table, her gnarled hands tying bundles of herbs together. Across from her, Leif’s sister Asara was sorting through a pile of dried leaves. The earthy aroma mingled with the faint scent of smoke from a small brazier nearby.
“Ah, here she is,” the old woman said. “Come, sit. Help me with these. We will need them for the gathering of the fires tonight.” She beckoned them over to the table and handed Isolde a bundle. “Tie them off with the string, like these others.”
Isolde took the herbs gingerly, setting to work. Felix hesitated, but sat down and picked up some of the plants as well. Asara caught his eye and smiled. Leif flopped into a seat next to them.
“You too, Leif,” Asara said, eyes narrowed. Leif sighed, then grabbed a few stray sprigs.
“The gathering of the fires?” Isolde asked, curiosity and hunger for knowledge plain on her face.
“It is a celebration of the end of summer,” the elder said. “A torch is brought from each of our homes, and we light a bonfire and tell stories. The herbs give off a pleasant smell. You have arrived at a very fortuitous time; it is lucky to have visitors at the gathering of the fires.”
“That sounds wonderful,” Isolde said with a sigh. “Will there be many stories?”
The elder smiled. “Oh yes. But there is one story, about one just like you, that I will share with you now. It was passed down from elder to elder for as long as memory recalls. It begins, as many stories do, with a mysterious guest.”
“Wait,” Leif interrupted, “aren’t you supposed to say ‘once, long ago, when the stars were young and the rivers sang’?”
The elder shook her head but smiled fondly. “Must you correct me every time I tell this tale?”
“It sets the mood!” Leif insisted.
“Fine,” she said, mock-weary. “Once, long ago, when the stars were young, and the rivers sang, a mysterious guest came to the city of Taerrok.”
Felix looked at Isolde. She was listening to the old woman with rapt attention, as if she hoped everything would be clear now. He felt a pang of sympathy for her, for her desperate desire for answers.
The elder wove her tale, speaking of the ancient Crovan city. “... until one day a terrible illness swept through, leaving many dead and more dying. Just as the people prepared to abandon the city, a man walked in – an Aelithar, flanked by his guardian.”
“I always found it hard to believe they didn’t even ask his name or anything,” Leif whispered to Felix. “But I suppose it adds to the mystery.” Felix made a noncommittal noise.
The elder, unperturbed by the interruption, continued, speaking of the people’s hesitation and fear towards the Aelithar. “He asked to see the sick. The people, afraid yet desperate, let him. He laid a hand on a dying child and brought him back from the brink. The Aelithar made his way through the city, healing as he went. When asked what he wanted in return, he only requested help to any who might come after him. So that is what our people swore.”
“That is a fascinating tale,” Isolde said, a note of uncertainty in her voice. “I don’t think I possess such extraordinary power…”
“My dear,” the elder said, “it is an ancient story. Who can say how much of it is true? But the oath remains, no matter what it was once based on. We are sworn to help you, so help you we will. You are welcome here for as long as you wish to stay, and our stores are open to you.”
“I… thank you,” Isolde said. “Is there any more to the story? Do you know anything about the Nexus?”
The elder’s gaze was distant. “Not much. The Aelithar came to us a few more times in the centuries that followed. But as the mage circles rose in power, the Aelithar disappeared. We know the people of the cities – wielders of magic – grew fearful of them. The lands around what you call the Nexus fell into ruin many generations ago, and our people travelled south because of it. We know the mage circles have any Aelithar they find killed.” At this, she looked pointedly at Isolde. “You told me you are from Azuill. Their circle is powerful. How is it you yet live?”
Isolde’s gaze dropped to her hands, fidgeting with the herbs. “My father is powerful, too. The mages did not want to anger him, so they said I might be cured if I travel to the Nexus…” Her voice faltered, her brow furrowing. “But now… now that I think about it, that doesn’t make much sense.”
The old woman scoffed. “Pah! Cured! Your power is a gift. Why would this mage suggest such a thing?”
“I don’t know,” Isolde sighed. “I had hoped perhaps you did.”
“I wish I did, too, my dear,” the elder said, patting Isolde’s hand. After a pause she continued, “and your father sent you into the wilderness, just like that? With unstable new powers and a mere three companions? No caravan, no honour guard? And once you arrive at this Nexus, how is this cure supposed to take place? Did these mages tell you what to do?”
Felix raised his eyebrows; the old lady was a sharp one. He had never laid it all out like this, too preoccupied with the journey to think much about the goal. Across the table, Leif and Asara were looking on with rapt attention.
