The ancient forest breathed around Masis, its breath seeping out from amongst mossy beards and craggy lips. He wandered amongst giants whose verdant garments transformed sunbeams into green, muted curtains of light, the very atmosphere perfumed with growing life. Brooks and rivulets scampered here and there, while small creatures scurried about in the underbrush. At his approaching footfalls, they blurred up trees or under cover, squeaks or yips of fear or indignation barked out as they fled. But no matter how they scolded him, whether growls or grunts, their calls melded with the sylvan melody.
After the accident the previous day, after somehow saving his sister, Masis yearned for a place that he knew—hoped—would not change, a place he could safely assume would follow the rules and patterns that he had learned over the years. For within himself a great shift had occurred, a change so fundamentally deep instinct told him it could not be undone. Even now he struggled to understand, to grasp, what it all meant, for every creature that skulked in the woods about him had changed. In his mind, no matter where they hid, whether in a shrub or behind a tree, he Saw them clearly in his mind. Each animal stood out like a gem on the black background of his mind, turbulent bundles of light contained in their fleshy outlines. In his vicinity he could, with his eyes closed, point in the direction of every squirrel, hare, fox, and mouse, no matter where they stood.
What has happened to me? Masis asked himself, shaking from his core, at once himself and yet not, a foreigner in his own skin. What have I become?
As he meandered over familiar, worn trails, his hands lingered on saplings and old growths. His touch rooting him through them deep within the earth, lending stability, security that relaxed his body and calmed his breath, stilling the tremors for a moment.
The path wandered over fern conquered logs moldering into the ground, it tiptoed near cliffs bathed in the sun's fresh morning light, and skirted bogs frothing with the reclaimed life. It moseyed about until it spilled out into a small woodland grove, carpeted with clover and dotted rocks pillowed with moss. Ringed with maple and pine alike, the light came through the canopy unhindered, making the space a dazzling oasis in the midst of the forest. A small beck giggled its way through its center, making the air sweet with cool moisture.
This was Masis' sanctuary, a place of stillness when life became turbulent. Ever since he had discovered it when but a lad, this place had become his confidant, a place unknown to any other person where Masis could steal away during the daylight hours to pause and be. Expectations did not follow him there. Nor titles. Nor worries. Nor anything else.
Here only Masis existed. No matter how much he may have changed in the last few days.
Coming to the edge of the stream he tugged off his boots, hopping about precariously on first one leg and then the other. His jerkin followed and then his shirt. Masis stood there bare chested, Wilo's light warming his sun starved skin. Though only a little more than two feet deep and breath-snatchingly cold, he waded out to the brook's center, lowering himself onto his back, the water bearing him up in the slow current which he easily counteracted with languid strokes.
His eyes closed.
His breath stilled.
His heart slowed.
His mind emptied.
Carefully, hesitating as though approaching a cornered animal or preparing to touch something hot, he Looked inward. There, in the black recesses of his mind, shimmered his own light. Constantly shifting hues, it frothed about within him with no clear direction or purpose. Since saving his sister Masis had not tried to control it. He had let it be much like one does with breathing, letting the action fall to the body's natural processes. Now, tentatively, Masis took control. Resistance he had not felt the first time sprang up. He wrestled with it for a moment, gritting his teeth, until it settled under his control. It would tug from time to time as though to test his concentration, but Masis maintained a firm mental grasp on it. Masis' mind filled with its presence, a part of himself, an appendage, only just discovered, feeling at once alien and powerful but familiar and right, much like the first time he had grasped an axe.
His father's words at the time sprang to mind. "Just remember Masis this is a tool," Lord Domrae had said. "And like tools it can bring about much good or much evil. It's up to the wielder to decide which."
Shivering in mountain runoff but still holding fast to his light, his thoughts turned to moments of warmth—a warm bath, a crackling fire—his fingers gliding through the water to stabilize him. Thoughts turning to warmth, the water surrounding him almost felt as if they were heating. He imagined steam rising from the beck's surface, flowing into his nostrils as he inhaled, relaxing his muscles. Not opening his eyes, he could almost believe the water around his body to be a pleasant fire-warmed bath.
The itch of eyes on him returned.
His eyes snapped open. Launching himself from the stream, his light completely forgotten, Masis scrambled to the shore. Snatching up his clothes, he backed himself into the brightest sunbeam, turning, scanning, hoping to find those eyes.
"I know you're out there!" he yelled at the taciturn trees.
Nothing but his words faintly reverberated back at him.
"You've been watching me for days now and it is becoming rather annoying."
The listening wood returned no reply.
"Why are you doing this?"
His words devoured themselves in the silence.
"Where are you?!" he screamed. "Who are you?!"
Panic had bled into his words as he clutched his garments to his body and turned in sporadic circles, breath ragged.
"Easy, now," a voice said behind him, "someone is going to hear you and think you're a bit touched in the head talking to trees like that."
Masis pivoted on his heel. His clothes fell from his arms as he drew his fists up to defend himself. But he stopped as he took in the stranger standing before him, his eyes widening and his arms hesitating not knowing if a fight was imminent.
A woman stood there. An air of complete nonchalance and ease hung about her, as she leaned casually on a walking stick. Older than Masis by no more than a decade, the fact did not detract from her obvious beauty. Tall with hair as dark as a new moon night, she dressed somberly in traveler's garb, wearing trousers instead of a skirt, her calves wrapped tightly and neatly with winigas. A cloak clasped about her neck falling to her feet, which were oddly bare. With a pack hanging over one shoulder, the woman hosted a pleasant smile on her face.
Traveling by foot was almost unheard of unless one could reach their destination within daylight hours. Most traveled by means of the lines—a mage contraption best described as a sailing ship on wheels running along tracks—if they had to go any great distance, as it allowed them shelter in the night hours. A lone female traveler going about on foot was beyond comprehension, even sanity. And yet, here she stood before him.
Straightening, Masis loosened his posture. She wasn't what he conjured up when he thought of someone watching him from the woods.
Maybe I imagined the whole thing, he thought, frowning with embarrassment.
"I'm sorry if I startled you," she said. "It's not every day that I meet a half-naked boy screaming like a maniac into the greenwood."
Masis glanced down at himself, hands aflutter with indecision. Quickly pulling on his shirt, Masis tossed his jerkin over it, distractedly combing his limp hair from his face. An off-kilter smile hesitated on his lips. "I'm sorry if I startled you. I had the strangest impression that someone was watching me."
The paranoia of his own words came back to his ears making him wince in consideration.
"No need to apologize," she said, waving away his apology. "The woods have a strange effect on some. And to be honest quite a few of those fears are not undeserved. Strange things and people roam the woods."
"I hope you're not one of them." He chuckled but the laugh came to a coughing end as no reciprocation came from the lady.
Her smile did not flicker. She just stood staring without a blink.
"I certainly hope I'm not afraid of the woods," Masis said, beginning again. "I've lived here all my life and one day the entire care of Asthurn will fall to me."
"Am I to understand that you belong to the great Domrae family? A child of the Duke of Asthurn?"
"I must admit that I do have that honor. Lord Masis Domrae at your service." He nodded his head to her, respectfully.
She bowed at the waist, matching her masculine apparel with male formalities. Shallow and brief, the bow did not mock so much as show deferment for curtesy's sake only. Somehow, she thought she ranked equal to him but followed protocol out of politeness.
"And you are?" Masis asked.
"Passing through."
What an odd woman, thought Masis, confusion tightening his brow. What reason would she have to evade his questions?
He considered her more closely. Her smile had some warmth but more like a predator, a wolf's cool grin, both inviting and calculating. She stood with a practiced ease, knees bent, legs relaxed, arms still, all things suggesting comfort, but her head shifted minutely with any small sound, the crack of a twig or the rush of the wind, much like a cat apparently settled yet still capable of pouncing at the slightest provocation. She may have exuded supreme casualness, however with closer inspection that easiness revealed an alert creature ready to react instantly.
"And what has brought you into Asthurn this morning?" asked the woman. "I'm sure it wasn't to simply stare at a strange woman in the wood." Her hand wandered to a small pouch fastened to her belt Masis had not noticed when first inspecting her.
"My thoughts," Masis responded, more tight-lipped.
"Yes, they have a way of drawing a person here, don't they?" She stood for a moment, casting her eyes up along the towering heights of the trees surrounding them. "A bit daunting, though," she said, as though offhand.
"Daunting?" Masis asked.
"Mmm," said the woman, eyes still up in the canopy, "thinking about having to care for all this someday. I don't know how your father manages."
The lady's last statement felt more a taunt than statement. Something in her tone gnawed at him. He was not a prig, but he was the son of a duke, his official title being marquis, and a certain level of deference normally accompanied those addressing him. This woman spoke to him as though almost his social equal, covering her forwardness with suggestive tones and veiled innuendos.
"He's preparing me as his father prepared him," said Masis, firmly, tucking his shirt into his trousers and straightening his jerkin over the top. "When the time comes, I'll be ready."
"No doubt, no doubt," the woman said, picking at a leaf hanging on a branch just before her. "Still it must be tempting..."
She let her words dangle like toes over a cliff.
"What must be tempting?" asked Masis, unable to resist. He had interacted with cunning nobles with hidden agendas all his life and yet somehow this woman had him dancing about with her words.
"To simply leave it all behind." She paused to examine the bark of a nearby tree. "Packing a bag and walking away. Forgetting obligations and all ties."
Masis stiffened. The words prickled his skin as a brisk breeze sent gooseflesh shivering down his body, summoning up seemingly every fear, anxiety, and misgiving he had ever had about stepping into his father's mantle.
Would he be adequate, capable of following his father? His father, that paragon of leadership, towered over him in every respect. How could he possibly compare?
His mind drifted to the incident with Casm at the banquet following their victory on the bolae field. His father had taken him aside afterward and explained to him in precise terms how he had mishandled the situation. He had laid out quite pointedly about Casm's family situation, that though his father was a lieutenant foreman, his large family made it difficult for him to provide for them all, owing to the fact that he insisted on being paid as all the other lieutenant foremen were. Masis' father had made sure his son understood that Casm's family was an ancient and proud one and they would not spend a single coin from that purse. He even went so far as to say that he thought they would find some way to return it.
If he could fail at something so seemingly insignificant, what would happen if he failed with something larger, more important? What if people's lives depended on him? Would he falter then? Would his mistakes cost more than he would be able to pay?
He glanced up to finding that smirking face still observing him. That smirk galled him.
"Not a second," he said, eyes and voice hard. "This is my home. My family is here. My people are here. They expect me to do the best for them."
The woman's smile became more genuine and pointed in the same instant, as if a victory had been won. "I meant no offence. Simply making an observation. But as it is, I must be going. We're near Hyrbn, are we not?"
Masis nodded.
"Would you kindly point me in the right direction?"
He turned, pointing the way. "Follow the path and you should reach the city after an hour's walk." Finishing, he turned back to the woman. He froze.
She was gone. No trace of her remained or marked her passage.
The breeze arose again shaking Masis' damp body. His eyes darted from place to place, breath heavy in his ears, but found nothing.
Had she even been real or just some manifestation of his own fears and anxieties?
With his calming connection to the woods broken, he stomped on his boots over still wet feet and set out for home, his pace tense, his breath snatched at, his heart unsettled. The game trail he followed, so familiar to his feet, never came into focus, his mind wandering on different paths of thought.
Will everything be taken from me? he thought, as he considered the quiet woods.
*DON'T FORGET TO VOTE*