11 Chapter 11

Ralph spent the entire morning and the better part of the afternoon experimenting with the old forge in the back of the barn. It was hard work pumping the bellows to keep the charcoal burning hot, while alternately working the metal. He was not in shape for such work, but pushed himself to do it all the same. Flushed and streaming perspiration from the radiant heat, shoulders, torso, and arms aching from prolonged exertion, he smiled with pleasure, enjoying the familiar fire-and-brimstone smell of the forge, and the almost magical glow of molten iron.

Guided by an innate feel for the craft, which may as well have been instinct, the hot metal seemed to come alive in his hands, so to speak. In no time he had forged a new blade for the sickle, hardening and sharpening it to a fine edge. He realised that it was a very average grade of iron he had fashioned; nevertheless, it was in every way superior to its predecessor, and would hold a fine edge for a much longer time.

Encouraged by this success, he began creating a number of other artifacts; horseshoes, nails, a draw-knife, and lastly, a long kitchen knife. This last he spent much time on. He had found a bit of metal which he thought to be nickel, and mixed it in with the molten steel, along with some carbon. Hoping to produce a higher grade of steel by working the carbon in and the impurities out, he first raised the forge's temperature. He did this by mixing in with the charcoal what Pran had told him was a poor grade of coal that smoldered rather than burned, which Theuli's father had long set aside. The result was a much higher heat, and soon his metal was close to being white-hot. He then began hammering the metal, folding it back on itself, hammering it out again, reheating it and hammering it once more, repeating the process for hours. When he was satisfied with the consistency of the metal, he shaped the blade, annealed it, and affixed to it a wooden handle.

It was late when he finished. Returning to the house, going in through the back door which opened near to the kitchen area, he found Theuli sitting at the table, mincing dried herbs with a paring knife and placing them in small glass jars, each sealed by a wooden stopper, which she kept in a rack on the inside of a cupboard door.

Smiling, she asked Ralph to sit down. 'I have kept your supper warm. The others are helping some men a few miles down the road towards town.' She got up and went to the stove. Ralph had to stifle an automatic impulse to follow and make himself useful.

Smiling to herself, thoughtfully, Theuli said, 'My father, too, used to spend many hours over that forge, losing all track of time. I had almost forgotten.'

Before sitting down, Ralph presented the kitchen-knife to Theuli. 'I heard you complaining about the one you were using,' he explained.

She stared at the blade in wonder. 'This is a fine piece of work But what is it made of? It does not look like iron. Why is it possessed of such a sheen? It looks almost to be made of silver.'

'Trade secret,' replied Ralph with a smile as he reseated himself. 'Give it a try.'

To her surprise, and his, she cut an apple on the cutting block, and the knife cut deeply into the wood almost effortlessly.

Scratching his head, he muttered, 'Must be very soft wood.'

Lifting an eyebrow she said, 'It is very hard wood. You see?' she said, indicating, 'I have never been able to make more than a scratch upon its surface.'

Ralph was apologetic. 'I'm sorry Maybe I should have tried it out on something first-'

She shook her head. 'No apology is needed; I will just have to remember to use it with due caution. But I must ask you what metal this blade is fashioned from.'

'I just mixed in some carbon, and a little of what I thought was nickel,' he replied.

'Nickel?' she asked, turning to him, frowning. 'I do not know this word. Would you show me.'

Taking a lantern from a peg where it hung near the brick stove, she lighted it and led the way outside to the barn, and to the corner where the forge, now growing cool, lay quiet and idle.

When she saw the metal he had added to the steel, her brow furrowed. 'This is baromiéne.' Seeing his incomprehension, she added, 'They are rock crystals. I have never known them to be of any use, except perhaps as an ornament. Children find them amusing . . . these were no doubt left here by Rani and Zuic.'

'Hm-m-m. They are probably made of mineral deposits with lots of nickel and chromium in them. That still wouldn't explain why the blade was so sharp, though. I mean, it should have been a bit sharper, and held an edge a lot longer, but that's all.'

'I did not realize that you had such an exceeding knowledge of ironmongery,' she said, a note of respect in her voice. 'I would like Pran to see this when he returns, if you don't mind.'

He shrugged. 'Sure. But I'm not what you could call "knowledgeable." This is nothing compared to what some people can do with metals, at least not where I come from.'

'Ah-h,' Theuli said in comprehension, 'Pran has told me that although your people have no magic, they seem to have found other means to vie with the Natural World.'

'Well . . .' Ralph muttered thoughtfully. 'When you say it like that, it doesn't sound like such a good thing.'

'Is it a good thing?' she asked him seriously, as they tacitly began making their way back to the house.

They had made their way to the back door, and were entering the kitchen area, as Ralph considered his reply. 'That's a hard question to answer,' he finally replied as he seated himself at the table.

Theuli got his supper ready, then made herself a cup of herbal tea with water from a large copper kettle which sat, perpetually hissing, on the back of the stove, and sat down across from him to listen.

Between mouthfuls, he said, 'In the place I live, before my people came along, there was nothing but natural wilderness, and people, who lived like the animals did. I mean, not like animals, but they lived in the wild like they were part of it, without trying to change it like we did. Well, no, that's not quite right. They changed it, but in ways that weren't as damaging

'Then, my people came, and kicked everyone and everything off their own land. I guess they thought they were better or something.

'Anyway, the people who lived there before, since time immemorial, were forced into little areas called "reserves." This was a really bad thing to do to many of them, because their way of life depended on being able to move around, following herds of animals. The ones living on "reserves" kept getting their land taken away from them, too, and they were forced to live in places where hardly anything would grow.

'Over time the natural wilderness and the wildlife vanished. Gone forever. The best land, which was taken over by my ancestors was cleared for farms, roads were put in, and cities were built. The wildlife disappeared because we took all the land, and the animals had no place left to go.

'At the same time, it's not like my people were intentionally bad, or evil. They had immigrated, trying to get away from what they called the Old Country. I guess they wanted freedom, and a chance to own their own bit of land. Things were generally awful where they came from. And they were pretty ignorant in those days. I really don't think that they had much, if any, idea of what they were doing. Even so, what they ended up doing was pretty horrible, when you think about it.

'For a long time, everything seemed like it was going their way, and people like my granddad, and five or six generations before him, were about as happy and satisfied with life as people can be.

'But they had left the Old Country because too few people had too much wealth and too much power, and there were just too many people. Eventually, in the place I live, which the people from the Old Country used to call the New World, the same thing started happening all over again. Too few people ended up getting too much wealth and too much power, and everything started to turn sour.

'We have something called technology, which was supposed to make things cheaply, and make doing things easier. I guess that was true in the beginning. But as the people who made technology got better and better at it, things started getting worse, because as the population got bigger, fewer and fewer people were needed to do things. See, we make these things called machines, which do the same work people do. Except that one machine can do the work of hundreds, sometimes thousands of people.'

He sighed. 'Except it's much bigger and more complicated than that. Doc knows more about it than I do. He's seen a lot more than I have, and he thinks about this stuff all the time. But I think he would agree with me that . . . people just don't live right. For one thing, they've gotten too far away from Nature. And instead of trying to control their own lives, they leave the running of things in the hands of others, who can never do the right thing, because the people they represent have completely lost touch. Everyone seems to be lost in his own selfish little world. And nobody seems to be on the right track.'

Theuli seemed to be holding her breath.

'Which is?'

Ralph finished his last bite, washed it down with a drink of water, putting his other arm up in a gesture of frustration. 'How should I know?' Setting his glass down again, he said, 'Things have just gone too far. We can't do away with the things that cause so much damage, because now we depend on them to survive. It's like we've fixed things for ourselves so that we can't go back.'

As he said this, they could hear the others returning. Doc came in the back door carrying his black bag, and took some instruments out of it wrapped in a bloody cloth. He took an old, little used pot from the bottom of one of the cupboards, filled it with water from the hand pump, and placed it on the stove. He then took the bloody cloth and its contents outside for a bit. When he returned, the cloth was damp, his implements clean. Nevertheless, he placed cloth and implements into the pot of water of the stove to boil. To the question in Ralph's eyes, Doc smiled oddly and said, 'Wish I had an autoclave right now. Seems my services came in quite handy after supper, while you were still out pounding metal in the barn.'

Deborah joined them, looking a little green. Rani and Zuic were with her, and seemed to find her demeanour amusing.

'Why don't you sit down?' Theuli suggested.

As she did so, Deborah responded to the question in Ralph's eyes, 'Doc made me help him do a little surgery. Rani and Zuic ended up being more help.'

Rani giggled. 'Deborah had to throw u-'

'It's past time for you two to be in bed. Go, get your bath ready,' Theuli said quickly, and began preparing them a light bedtime meal.

'May we help Doc again?' Zuic asked, in all seriousness, reluctant to leave.

To Doc's smile, she said, 'Yes, if he requires it. Now go, both of you.'

The two left with reluctant alacrity.

'So what happened?' Ralph asked when they were gone.

'Oh-h-h,' Doc drawled, choosing his words, 'some Men were trying to change a wheel on a wagon a couple of miles down the road. One of them got caught underneath when it slid off its blocks and turned over on him. Crushed his leg pretty badly. I had to set a couple of compound fractures, and fish out several splinters about yay long-' he indicated a length of about two or three inches.

'Ouch,' Ralph winced. 'How's the guy doing?'

'Well, if you go by the way he and his friends were acting when I finished, you'd think a miracle had been performed, and he was going to run the rest of the way to town.' He chuckled, and pulled something out of his pocket. 'The Man's name was Arvann. He insisted on giving me a pair of enormous sacks full of vegetables for my trouble, which are sitting out on the back stoop. You can put them in the root cellar; I can hardly shift them, even with the kids' help. Oh, yes, and he gave me this as well . . .'

He passed a small but heavy object to Ralph, who admired it uncomprehendingly. Its significance was not lost on Theuli, however.

'That is a grom-ti ' she said in pleased wonder. 'Here, let me show you.' The object resembled a top made of solid bronze, intricately carved with strange letters in rows upon its surface, as fine as filigree. She set the grom-ti on its point on the table, where it stood balanced, without spinning. While the others watched in surprise, she flicked it off balance with her fingers. It quickly righted itself.

'What's it for?' Ralph asked her.

'It is said to bring you aid when you most need it,' she replied with a smile. 'When aid is given, the custom is to pass it on to another; usually to the one who has helped you.'

'I couldn't help but overhear what the two of you were just talking about,' Doc said.

Ralph shrugged. 'So? What do you think?'

'I think,' Doc replied, 'that people will wake up one day, at the last minute, when it may or may not be too late. In the meantime, I think that people like ourselves can only do the best we can, and watch and wait.'

The empathic look which passed between Doc and Theuli was not lost on the others.

The next morning, Deborah arose early to do the household laundry. She made her way to the stream as Malina had done. Never having washed clothes in a stream before, she hoped that Theuli's instructions would prove useful.

As Theuli had warned her, it was hard work. She soaked the clothes, rubbed them with a soap bar which felt slightly caustic, and worked the dirt out on one of the smooth stones she had seen the Elf-woman use before.

Theuli didn't like the idea of Deborah's going off alone, especially not after Malina's encounter with the Imp. But afterwards, the need for caution seemed unwarranted, so she allowed Deborah to begin the washing alone. Ever cautious, though, Theuli had said that she would join Deborah before too long, using the pretence that the Human girl would need help carrying the wet clothes back to the house.

Deborah paused as Malina had done, to rest her tired back and shoulders, and to take in the beautiful scene around her; the quiet, crystal-clear stream, the lazy willows, the quiet hiss of the wind in the trees, the grassy banks of the stream, dotted with beds of herbs and wildflowers . . . she found herself wishing that she could somehow take this benign tranquillity inside herself, and-

But such thoughts were ridiculous, unattainable, and tormenting to dwell upon. Turning her attention back to the task at hand, she soon found herself working automatically, lost in various rhythms, the irrhythmic sounds of nature, like the sounds of the breeze and the stream, working as counterpoint against the steady, periodic sloshing of laundry being soaped, dipped, scrubbed, wrung, soaped, dipped, scrubbed, wrung . . .

As she worked, she smiled to herself, suddenly. 'Well, now I've seen everyone in their naked pelt, as my grandmother used to call being naked; or making embarrassing noises on the . . . what did Theuli say her mother used to call it . . . oh, yes the thundermug.' She almost laughed out loud at this apt but rude description of the commode. She found herself shaking her head, inwardly, amazed that one could get used to such things in so short a period. The women took turns doing the bathing, their rotation depending entirely on juggling other chores and duties. They would then finish by bathing each other . . .

It was a labour they all seemed to greatly enjoy; it brought all of them closer together, inviting harmless curiosity in some cases, forced more difficult curiosities to be dealt with. The first time Deborah had bathed Pran, something she had only been allowed to do, once the act of bathing others had become well-established as part of her routine, she'd had a difficult time not to stare. His body was solid, lithe, hard muscle, sharply defined, with not an ounce of extra fat anywhere. And he had so many scars

Like a child, as she bathed him, she asked him about his various battle-marks. With a patient smile, as though giving her a tour of the map of his life, he had shown her most of them, telling her enthralling, amazing stories in the meantime, of how they'd been acquired.

The following day, Theuli had told her, as the two women prepared a meal in the kitchen, that Deborah was not to believe all that Pran had told her regarding his war-wounds.

'He was,' the Elf woman confided with a smile, 'having a little fun at your expense. Most of those injuries he got working on the farm.'

Deborah had to smile; to her surprise, instead of feeling miffed, she felt closer to Pran, for his having had it on with her

'Funny,' she thought to herself, 'that the men will wash the children, but will only wash the women in special cases, as Pran will with Theuli sometimes, at the end of a long day, when she's really tired.' She asked Theuli about this, and had received a thoughtful shrug in response.

'I'd never really thought about it,' the Elf woman told her. 'But there is . . . a sort of unspoken taboo, I guess you might say. It is odd, though, when you think about it; that one can so easily accept a woman, any woman, giving a man his bath. But when the rôles are reversed, it seems to completely change the connotation . . .'

Deborah found herself agreeing for the most part, thinking it was a matter more of instinct than of . . . well . . . anything else-

The word instinct seemed to touch her in an almost piquant physical manner, and she shuddered, feeling an almost sexual thrill . . . as though she had been touched . . . though in some indefinable, oblique manner . . .

No, it was some sort of illusion No one had actually physically touched her. But she found herself looking around, certain for no discernable reason that she was being watched, or that she had sensed . . . what? No, she had heard something . . . a sort of melody that sounded like the light breeze, as though they were one and the same. Pulling the wet clothes from the water, she set them on a flat rock so they wouldn't wash away in the current. Then, gingerly crossing the stream, bare feet uncertain on the smooth boulders, coolish water lapping at her ankles, she began making her way towards the alluring sound or music, which affected her like staring at an impossible object composed entirely of light; an indefinable and emotionally breathtaking manifestation which only barely bordered on being comprehensible to her senses.

As she gained the far bank, there was a rustle as of fabric, and some nearby bushes were disturbed, but she saw nothing. The music was getting louder now. Or was it music? The harder she tried to listen, the more, yet less distinct the sound became. Finally, her way was barred by a hedge. Trying to move silently, she pushed her way through this, and stopped in wonder. The hedge formed a wide circle, perhaps fifty feet across. In the center, a group of small women, about the same height as Malina . . . yet very different . . . were dancing to the strange music, which seemed to be all around them. There were dozens of them, similar in dress and appearance. They were slight, lithe and graceful, and bathed in an eldritch presence that was either light or music, or both.

Deborah tried to straighten up a little, when a twig broke beneath her foot. The dancers stopped, in as perfect unison as when they had been dancing. For a heart-stopping moment, she was afraid the dancers would attack her or flee. Instead, one of them approached her.

'You must help us finish the Dance,' the small woman said in annoyance. 'You have broken the Circle.'

'But I do not know the dance,' Deborah replied.

'Have you not heard the music?' the dancer asked her.

There was something odd in the timbre of the way the dancer said the word music that carried with it something elusive and alarming, but Deborah nodded, mutely.

'Then you will know the Dance. But you are unlike us,' she said, appraising Deborah in an unsettling way. 'You must do it at the center of the Circle, else the Balance will be lost.'

Almost with a volition not her own, Deborah did as she was told, stepping into the center of the circle. At once, the dancers began moving together in perfect unison once more, as though she wasn't there at all.

'I know this,' she thought, wondering how "knowing" such a thing was possible, for the dance and the music and the light, she soon discovered, were one and the same thing.

Something is going to happen The thought was both frightening and exhilarating. She felt herself . . . sort of expanding . . . though that wasn't really the right word for the strange sensation rising within her. Paradoxically, she felt herself being drawn deeper and deeper into the dance, and into the light. Suddenly, at one end of the hedge, she saw a tunnel open through the dense brush, down which leaves were falling, as though the mouth of the tunnel ran straight down into the ground, rather than parallel to it. The source of the warm light was moving towards them from somewhere beyond the end of the tunnel . . .

Something is going to-

Something crashed into her, even as the light enveloped the dancers, and she was pulled roughly from the circle, half-dragged through the hedge. What- ?

It was Theuli, watching Deborah with horror.

The hedge was gone, as was the light.

'Where did they go? Where are the dancers?'

'Deborah ' Theuli shouted into her confusion, 'Look at me.' Deborah found herself somehow locked into the Elf-woman's gaze, unable to look away. After a moment, however, Theuli relaxed, seemingly satisfied with what she saw.

'That was foolish What possessed you to join in the Circle?'

Feeling both baffled and ashamed, Deborah said, 'I don't know. I heard the music, and followed it here. When I got here, I interrupted the dance, and one of the dancers told me that I had to join them, so I did.'

Theuli breathed a shuddering sigh. 'You were only moments away from being lost to us.'

Deborah's look was a study in guilty incomprehension.

'I don't understand.'

'Then learn ' said Theuli intently. 'Those dancers were Sprites, engaged in the Dance of Life. You almost . . . how can I say it? They were in the midst of a rite called the Joining.'

Deborah stared, still waiting for an explanation that made sense to her.

'You do not understand,' said Theuli, 'but harken; you were almost lost, even to yourself. Come, let us finish the washing and return to the house. Malina and my husband should be returning soon.'

Pran and Malina returned two days after their departure, late in the evening. Iniiq was not with them. Rani and Zuic had gone to bed some hours before, and the others gathered at the table hear Pran's tale. Theuli, with Deborah's assistance, meanwhile went about making a late meal. Deborah sensed that Theuli needed the distraction, more than anything. There was some tension between the Elf-woman and her husband . . . or was it something else?

The three had journeyed northwards into the wood, directly toward the Imp tribe of which Iniiq was a member. They didn't have to go far; the main group had been awaiting Iniiq's possible return.

She had been right about their reaction to her transgression, and even when Pran explained to them that he had coerced Iniiq's name from her, still they berated her and desired her death.

Pran then told their Elders of his intent to aid them, but threatened to withhold such aid if they didn't recant. After much angry debate, they promised to uphold their judgement, until such time as the Search was over.

Again, Pran was meant to refuse, but Iniiq, speaking for herself, had said, 'There is no use trying to dissuade them. If they promise to spare me, that promise would soon be broken, regardless. Let us get on with the matter at hand; this arguing is pointless.'

'Not if your life is spared ' Malina had said.

To that, Iniiq didn't reply.

They followed a course north by northwest, along a trail which led to a tiny river called the Vassar. A small stone bridge crossed at this point, but they turned to the right, taking a trail that followed the river northeast. The ground was very rugged, with low, rocky hills, and birch and alder forest becoming interspersed with pine. There were several waterfalls here, and deep, narrow ravines, and everywhere there were ferns and mushrooms, toadstools and poisonous bleeding-hearts, devil's club, and some sort of low evergreen shrub which bore fruit in every stage of development, starting out as a white berry which later turned red, then black as it ripened.

Malina Pixie senses, though stunted, as her powers were greatly diminished without her Pixie dress, were nevertheless far keener than Elf or Imp, and she guided them unerringly in their search of places where echoes of the Earth Mother's presence could still be felt. Finally reaching such a spot, she was thankful when they stopped by a wide pool at the bottom of a waterfall. Her thighs were raw and very sore from riding. It wasn't long before she noticed that the pool seemed almost perfectly circular. A cliff of rock at the north end, down which the water fell in a wide, transparent sheet, reminded her vaguely of the glass she'd seen in Rowf's and Doc's homes.

Pran dismounted, asking the others to remain where they were. He took a trail which led in behind the falls, where apparently there was a large cavern. To their surprise, when he returned, he was as dry as before he had entered. Their surprise turned to misgiving, however, as he addressed the group.

'The Watersprites have not been here for some time. Where they have gone, I cannot guess, but it is clear that they have left. I do not think that they intend to return.'

One of the Elders, Olix, said, 'Why do you believe this to be so?'

Pran held up a stone, roughly the size of his fist, which he had taken from the cave. At one time, it had been semi-transparent, veined with swirls of pale blues and ambers. The stone looked as though it had been burned. 'This is an Ulssar Stone, used for communing with the Earth Mother, and for the Water sprite's rituals. They are very rare; not all Water sprites possess them. They would not willingly leave this behind, and it has been destroyed. I fear there has been killing here. Do you not feel it?'

The Elder, Olix, approached him and took the stone. From her garment, she produced a short, twisted wand, made of some root, and touched the end of it to the Ulssar Stone. For a brief instant, there was a dull gleam from deep within the stone, and her aged hand trembled as she mumbled a quiet, eldritch song of power. When she was done, tears were coursing down her wrinkled face, her shoulders stooped with more than mere age.

'Ah-h-h, my heart Even the little ones. You . . . you . . .' she faced Pran with inarticulate rage, her frail frame shaking.

For a moment, even Pran was numb with horror as he realised what had taken place here. Elves had raided this place. Elves had slain every Watersprite . . . even to the last child. Malina, however, betrayed surprisingly little expression; what little she did show could easily have been mistaken for tired resignation.

Everywhere it was the same. Every enclave had been systematically raided, the occupants either killed or driven off. What had once been a living, vibrant forest, full of Faerie creatures and magic, now felt as desolate and empty as a wilderland. The trees themselves seemed to clench the silence about them, as though they were appalled by the violence; or perhaps it was that their voices were stilled forever because the magic was gone.

That night, the Imps held a vigil around the ruined stone, the Elders performing some secret rite, away from the sight of Pran, Malina, and Iniiq. In the morning, Olix approached them, a glowing object in her withered hand.

In shape it appeared to be the Ulssar Stone. But this one was whole, unblemished.

'Aye,' said the Elder with a sad smile, 'it has taken all my strength, but I have accomplished a mighty Healing.' She approached Iniiq, and to the girl's astonishment, handed her the stone.

'We have determined your punishment. You shall seek out others for a time, using this stone. If you should chance to find any upon the way, you must warn them to leave the Elven Kingdom, for it is no longer our home.

'We are leaving, to seek the Earth Mother elsewhere. Where your journey will take you, I cannot see, for my vision fails me. My time is coming to an end.'

Iniiq fell to the woman's feet and wept.

'Ah, daughter,' the old woman said, stroking the girl's head tenderly, 'try to be brave. You have a long journey before you, and mine is nearly done. That is the way of things.' The Elder's tears belied her words however, and she shuffled off as though something fundamental within her was broken.

As Iniiq watched her go, she said so quietly that Pran and Malina scarcely heard her, 'Twice now you have given me life . . . but what is my life without you?'

They went their separate ways then; the Imps on a journey out of the Elf Kingdom, Iniiq into the wilderness, alone, and Pran and Malina back to their family and friends.