3
Whatever the old man had done, it seemed to have settled the Gaeradine soldier, though Mythrd couldn't tell from the man's face. That black war paint, thick and crusted, covered most of his features, with only gaps where fearsome looking demon eyes left his own eyes uncovered. He looked thin, almost gaunt, as most Gaeradine did, but this seemed worse than the other invaders, seen from a distance, captured and marched to the capital past the village.
The fire gave them welcome relief, not least for Gythryn, who had put on her dress as soon as she had stopped threatening to kill the old man. She still seemed angry, though Mythrd couldn't understand why. She knew she wasn't a harlot and that she had undressed for the best of reasons. Still, the words of the old man, his mere presence, even, seemed to irk her.
As for the old man, himself, after telling them he was the 'Father of the Green', he had moved to sit against one of the three huge monoliths, watching them with amused eyes. No matter what the old man said, Mythrd could not believe what he was that long-lost immortal. A Guardian? Never! No-one saw the Guardians. Not even when that old religion was at its height.
Taking a walk around the perimeter of the standing stones, Mythrd collected as much wood as he could find. There was more, outside the stone circle, but he hesitated to set one foot outside the area of protection until morning. He could still hear the howls of the Traal, in the distance now, and the deeper, echoing howls of wolves, too. He didn't fancy becoming food for either.
"They'll not bother us in here, boy. Not to worry." A long, thin, parchment skinned hand rested on his shoulder, almost causing Mythrd to jump out of the stone circle. "They like easy prey, they do, and they'll not step beyond the aura."
"Aura?" Mythrd picked up one last stick, his arms full, now. Giving the old man a squinting glance, he began to head back to the fire, the old man falling in at his side. "I don't see anything."
"Ah, that's right. You aren't attuned." Nodding his head, his beard drooping to his waist, the old man clasped his hands behind his back. "Yet."
That sounded ominous to Mythrd. Almost like a threat, but he felt no animosity from the old man. As they walked, he tried to watch the old man without making it obvious. Despite his bowed legs, bent back and wizened appearance, the old man seemed quite spry, moving with little difficulty without his staff. The light of the moons shone upon his bald pate and the grey, straggly strands of hair seemed healthy, despite how messy it looked. The old man had no braids in his hair. He had never lost family. If he ever had any.
"Thank you for your help, by the way." He watched as the old man scooped up a stick that Mythrd had missed. He didn't seem to have any trouble bending down. "I don't believe you're the 'Father of the Green', you know. So, why not tell me your real name? I'm My ..."
"Mythrd. Yes, I know. The girl that doesn't like clothes is Gythryn. The Gaeradine is called Agarang. Names are the face we show others when we want them to see us." The old man lifted his head as he spoke, as though listening to something only he could hear. Mythrd didn't understand what he meant about names. It sounded like nonsense. "As for me? Well, you're right, I'm not the Father of the Green. Made you think, though, eh? I'm Kaninzir. You could say this is my home."
The old man, Kaninzir, spread out his arms, indicating the entire clearing within the forest. The stone circles, the sky, everything within sight. Mythrd didn't believe that, either. Apart from dark patches upon the soil, near the three monoliths, where travellers had set fires in the past, there were no signs of habitation within the stone circle. No hut. Not even a lean-to. Nothing but stones and soil, grass and trees.
"What is an 'aura'? You said I'm not 'attuned' to see it. Is it a magical shield? A barrier that creatures cannot cross?" They had reached the fire, now, where Mythrd could see Gythryn, laid on the ground near the Gaeradine. 'Agarang', if he were to believe Kaninzir. "Whatever it is, I'm glad of it. I doubt we would have survived the Traal."
"Oh, absolutely! They would have torn you apart! Arms, legs, heads. Blood everywhere. It would have taken weeks for it all to clear away. Terrible." Kaninzir spoke as though the ruination of the clearing, and not Mythrd and Gythryn's deaths, would have caused him the most pain. "The Aura is not magical. Not really. It is a consequence of the standing stones. They are of the Guardians, you see and nothing, not man, beast, or even Patrons can pass the Aura with violence in their hearts."
"I see. So, if, for example, I had wanted to kill the Gaeradine, I couldn't have entered the henge?" If that were the case, it proved to Mythrd that Gythryn had never truly intended to kill Agarang, or the old man. "How come you can see this 'Aura'?"
Settling down beside the fire, Kaninzir tossed the stick, he had found, into the flames. He looked up at Mythrd and then looked at the ground beside him. A silent invitation, or order, to sit beside the old man. Dropping the armfuls of wood to the side, Mythrd joined the old man, crossing his feet and hugging his knees to his chest. The old man looked into the crackling fire, his mouth moving as though he chewed something, a far-away look in his eyes.
"There was a time when every stone circle on this island had three people that called the henges home. A Priest, a Steward and a Protector. It was their duty to maintain the henges, maintain order and lead worship of the Guardians, though the Guardians never wished for worship. Not like them Patrons." Waving a hand in the general direction of the sky, Kaninzir almost spat the word 'Patrons'. "Over the centuries, people turned away from the Guardians. Each successive invasion brought a new Patron to the island. New Priests. And, because the Patrons crave worship, get power from it, those Priests pushed their religion hard upon the people of Iibar."
Of a sudden, Mythrd could see a weariness to the old man. As though even talking about the fall of the old religion pained him. His head drooped for a second, then lifted as he gazed from one great monolith, to the next and the next. Once his eyes finished the circle, they fell upon Mythrd again and Mythrd could tell those eyes were, in fact, a deep green colour. So different from the usual blue of Iibarish people, or the dark brown of the Gaeradine.
"We turned away from them, didn't we? The Iibarish people began to worship the Patrons, instead." Of course they did. Even he prayed to the Patrons, observed their rituals and holy days. Everyone did. The old man nodded.
"The old ways became pushed to the side, lost, forgotten. The henges fell into disuse, decay and ruin. This is one of the few that remains whole. Undisturbed." Patting the ground beside him, Kaninzir gave a sad smile. "I'm one of the last Priests of the Guardians. My companions, the Steward and the Protector long since died. I am alone."
The old man's sadness touched Mythrd. Looking to the side, he could see that Gythryn had opened her eyes. He didn't know how much she had heard, but she no longer looked at the old man with anger. Resting her head upon her hands, she held her three braids between her fingers, brushing them with a thumb. She caught him looking at her and her eyes flicked away. Despite her anger and her aggression, Gythryn had a good heart.
"I'm sorry. So, you live alone, out here? I've never seen you before and I've come here many times in the past. It's ... peaceful." He could feel that sense of peace, even now. It was one of the reasons he had thought of bringing the Gaeradine here.
"That it is. No-one sees me, unless I wish to be seen. That, too, is part of the Aura." The old man looked at Mythrd as he looked around the stone circle. No matter how he squinted, how he tried to focus, he could see nothing like this 'Aura'. "Here. I'll show you."
Reaching out a hand, the old man gripped one of Mythrd's. As soon as their hands touched, it felt as though everything changed. The darkness receded, though Mythrd knew that night still held, daylight hours away. He could see things. Rippling ribbons of light, purples and greens and yellows, all the colours of the rainbow, coruscating and flowing around everything. From the great monoliths, that appeared to send out wave upon wave of colours, to the altar, and the two surrounding circles.
The coloured ribbons stretched up into the night sky and spread, outwards, forming a dome around the entire henge, like liquid, the light flowed and danced all around them. And that was not all. Standing, still holding the old man's hand, Mythrd could see those self-same colours radiating out from himself, the old man, Gythryn, even the Gaeradine, Agarang. Outside the stone circles, and the dome of rippling colours, he could see that light coming from all things. Trees, grass, stone, birds in the sky, beasts on the ground that he could see even though the forest hid them. It was the most intense, most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
"And that is the Aura." The old man released Mythrd's hand, wiping the sweat on his palm onto his robes. "You get used to it."
"I doubt I ever could." His voice faltered as he fell to his knees.
He had worshipped the Patrons his entire life, in one way or another. He had never felt anything from them. Not even all Priests of the Patrons felt the touch of their gifts. What he had felt, right there, what he had seen, was something Mythrd had never felt before.
He wanted to know more about the Guardians.
-+-
Try as he might, Mythrd could not sleep after experiencing the Aura of the stone circle. Kaninzir had patted his shoulder before moving away, staring at the ground until he found a patch to his liking and then laid down, curling into a ball. He fell asleep and started snoring almost immediately while Mythrd continued staring around in wonder.
Instead of sleeping, he sat beside the fire, adding sticks every so often, watching the sleeping forms of Gythryn and Agarang. Several times, he found himself concentrating, trying to recapture the feelings that had washed over him while Kaninzir had held his hand. Nothing happened, however. He saw nothing but the world as he had always seen it. Dull and cold.
Hours later, the moons lowered in the sky, disappearing beyond the trees to the north and then, to the south, the Sun began to rise and the chill of the night began to recede. The night calls of the forest animals, the howls of the Traal, the night-song of nocturnal birds all began to quieten and then stop, replaced by the more welcoming sounds of daylight loving creatures.
"Oh." A grown came from Gythryn as she turned from her side, stretching and arcing her back, her arms shuddering as she raised them above her head. "We are going to be in so much trouble. Abbot Llwnthrn is going to tan my hide."
Scratching her fingers through matted hair, Gythryn looked around, frowning and smacking her lips. Then she rubbed her stomach and Mythrd realised that he, too, had had nothing to eat since the afternoon before. As though taunting him, he smelled cooking meat and looked to the side to find Kaninzir holding a skinned rabbit above the fire, impaled on a stick. Mythrd never saw the old man move, let alone leave the camp long enough to go hunting.
"The island provides!" Turning, Kaninzir waved the rabbit towards Mythrd and then Gythryn. With his other hand, he hooked a thumb towards the injured Gaeradine. "He'll need water. There's a stream fifty feet into the south of the forest."
Tossing a water skin to Mythrd, Kaninzir returned the rabbit to the flames, holding the stick like a fishing rod. Mythrd had no idea the old man had a water skin on him. Uncertain what to do, or say, he decided to try and find the stream, leaving Gythryn with the old man and Agarang.
Sure enough, Mythrd found the stream, where Kaninzir had said it would be, but Mythrd couldn't remember ever seeing the stream before. Everything felt confusing to him, now. Nothing was as he remembered it. Old men that called the Cythrûn Henge his home, a man he had never seen before. Lights and colours that emanated from the standing stones, like rainbows after a storm. A stream that he had never knew existed.
He had lived in this place his entire life. Had explored every inch of the surrounding hills, forests and dales, with Gythryn and alone. He knew his home. Had never known anywhere else. Now it felt as though he didn't even now anything. He wondered if he had fallen through some magical gateway, like in some of the old fairy tales, but only to a place so alike to his own home, it made little difference.
As he returned to the henge, he handed the water skin to Gythryn's outstretched hand as he tried to stifle a yawn that threatened to tear the skin about his mouth. He wondered if he could sleep now that he knew they had all passed beyond the dangers of the night. Except that he couldn't sleep. One, or both, of him or Gythryn had to return to the village and tell them about this Gaeradine soldier.
They had managed to keep him alive through the night, but he was still an enemy soldier. Mythrd would tell the village's Constable and perhaps she could take a horse to the capital. Only a day-and-a-half's ride away, the capital, Patron's Hold, could have an entire company of men back at the village within the week. Then the professionals could deal with the threat of both the Gaeradine and the growing numbers of Traal.
"We can't give him to the army! They'll torture him for information and kill him." Stepping between Mythrd and the Gaeradine, Gythryn looked at Mythrd as though he were the entire army himself.
"What? Just yesterday you were considering killing him yourself!" Throwing his hands up, Mythrd turned away. "What is happening here? When did I suddenly become the person wanting him dead? All I said was we need to tell the Constable!"
"I never said you wanted him dead. I said the army would want him dead." Gythryn raised a defiant chin, though Mythrd could tell she felt hesitant in her words. "I was wrong, yesterday. And you were ... you were right. There. I said it. Happy? He doesn't deserve to die."
"Then what are we going to do?" He looked towards the Gaeradine who still remained unconscious, though he did not look as bad as the night before. "I suppose we could keep him hidden here, until he recovers enough to return to the Esservold. Maybe an act of kindness to one of their own will stop them being so aggressive?"
That would mean that either he, or Gythryn, or both of them, would have to tend to the man and that would involve bandages to keep his broken bones tight and straight. Bandages that they did not have here. He wondered if the old man could conjure up those as he had the rabbit and the water skin.
Kaninzir, however, remained silent on that. Producing a small knife, the old man began cutting slices of meat from the rabbit, handing some to Gythryn and then to Mythrd. Taking a bite, the meat felt wondrous passing over his tongue after not eating for hours. He worried about Gythryn. She, not Mythrd, would suffer the most upon returning to the Monastery. Abbot Llwnthrn was not known for her patience or her forgiveness.
"I'll stay and watch over him. You go back and get some supplies." Kneeling beside the Gaeradine, Gythryn began dribbling water onto the man's lips.
Despite her initial feelings towards Agarang, Gythryn seemed to have warmed to the man. As though a mothering instinct, an urge to protect someone vulnerable, had taken her. Mythrd didn't worry that she may have fallen for the man. If she had, that was a problem for Gythryn to face. Mythrd had only ever been and would only ever be, her friend. Nothing more. He only hoped that if she had fallen for this enemy soldier, she knew what that entailed.
The Gaeradine and Iibarish folk had settled into a state of war-without-war almost half a decade ago, fourteen years after the invasion had stalled. They had caught the Iibarish people by surprise, landing thousands of warriors upon the southern shores of the Esservold and the eastern shores of the Suvold, taking large swathes of land before the armies of Iibar could respond.
Fierce fighting had passed between the two peoples for years until a great battle had almost destroyed both armies, leaving the island in a state of confusion, uncertain about how to continue. And so a period of peace fell. One that saw various skirmishes, minor incursions and much rattling of swords. The Iibarish people would never give up the island and neither, it seemed, would the Gaeradine.
The Iibarish hated the Gaeradine. The Gaeradine hated the Iibarish people. For one, of either side, to fall in love with someone from the enemy was an unthinkable thing. It didn't, however, feel like love that Gythryn showed Agarang. Mythrd couldn't describe why he thought that, but he did. Instead, it felt more how Gythryn would protect him when the other village children had tried to bully him. Gythryn had cracked many heads before they turned their attentions elsewhere. That's what this felt like.
"Alright. I'll go." Taking one last look around, at Gythryn, the Gaeradine and the old man, Mythrd turned to head back to the village. He stopped, glancing at Gythryn again. "Anything you want me to tell the Abbot? She's not going to be happy about you staying out."
"Tell her ..." Gythryn though for a second and then nodded, smiling to herself. "Tell her I have a sword, now, if she has something to say to me."
Shaking his head, Mythrd knew damn well he was not going to say that to Abbot Llwnthrn. If for no other reason than the old woman terrified him, even though she had never treated him badly in the slightest. No. Instead, he would attempt to flit in and out of the village like a ghost. Attempt to be there and back again before anyone could see him.
As he moved away from the three great monoliths, Mythrd could feel those deep green eyes of Kaninzir following him. The old man had said nothing as he and Gythryn had made their plans. In fact, the old man had said little since the night before. Mythrd could do nothing but wonder what were the old man's intentions, if he had any.
For now, Mythrd could only return home and pray to the Patrons and, he supposed, the Guardians that he didn't get caught by anyone. Least of all Abbot Llwnthrn.