3 Herbs and Spirits

"Lyda! You're distracted again."

Lyda quickly snapped back to her senses, having been lulled by the sound of a rushing creek nearby that she could not see. Usually, Iris would conduct her lessons with Lyda at the cottage or off in the woods not far away when the days were nice enough. This time, however, she took Lyda deeper into the mountains, heading west and carrying a burlap sack around her shoulder with everything they would need for today's lesson.

Lyda was excited at first for a refreshing change of scenery but grew tired after the first hour of hiking. She kept asking Iris where they were going and how much longer it would take, but Iris just told her, "You'll see." To Lyda's bewilderment, they walked for over six hours, pausing a few times for breaks, before Iris finally stopped and instructed Lyda to sit down on a large, natural stone slab that was sticking up out of the dirt. She did as she was told, and Iris sat down on the stone in front of her. She began by giving Lyda a brief overview of what she would be teaching her today, but that was around the time she became distracted by her new surroundings.

She had never been this far away from home before. It was a slightly longer distance from the cottage than the Valley was, and what really caught her attention was the plant life she spotted not far away. They were peculiar looking plants, with bushes whose stems seemed to extend somewhat sporadically outward, but the flowers they produced displayed the most beautiful arrays of pink and white. Somewhere beyond the bushes, Lyda could hear the flowing of a spring or river, and she found herself lost in the penetrating sensation of tranquility. That is, before Iris broke her out of it.

"I'm sorry," Lyda apologized sheepishly. "What are those bushes? I've never seen them before." She pointed toward the unknown plants.

"Oh," Iris followed her direction. "They call that rhododendron. They're rather pretty to look at, but some are known to be poisonous. It's important that you stay away from them. Do you understand?"

Lyda gave her mistress a look of confusion. She thought it strange that she had never come across these plants during her studies before. Recognizing poisonous plants was just as essential to a healer as identifying useful herbs. Regardless, she decided not to question it, and just go back through her studies later to see if she missed it somehow.

"Do you know why I brought you out here?" Iris began. Lyda shook her head, so she continued. "My mistress led me here when I was your age. She said it was the perfect place to absorb the tranquil auras of nature. You can just feel it in the air. It envelops you here, like this place is cut off from the rest of the world in its own little paradise."

Lyda nodded her head. So that explained the persistent lulling she was feeling. It was like she could just fall over and doze off peacefully in the comfort of nature's beauty.

"I thought this would be the perfect place to give you your first active experience," Iris professed. "But we'll start off easy, just to make sure your knowledge is top-notch. Can you tell me what that plant is over there?"

Lyda followed her hand as she pointed to her left at a patch of white-petaled flowers with small, bulbous yellow centers. Lyda examined the stems of the flowers, which were covered in little green hairs from the flowers down to the soil. That was all Lyda needed to see.

"That's chamomile," she answered confidently.

"Are you sure?" Iris questioned. Lyda looked as though she was ready to second guess. "What about that over there?" Iris proceeded to point toward a similar looking flower patch on the opposite side of them.

Lyda began to examine this new plant. Just like the other, she recognized it immediately from her studies. The flowers looked identical to those in the first patch, but upon scanning the stems, Lyda saw that they had no hairs, and the leaves, though quite small, were much larger than the others. She glanced back and forth between the two patches for a moment before regaining her confidence.

"Yes," she replied, looking back at the first cluster of flowers. "Those are chamomile. You can tell by the little hairs along the stems. That's feverfew over there." She pointed back over to the second patch. "The flowers look the same, but the different leaves give them away."

Iris's face lit up in a bright smile. "Very good! You didn't allow the flowers to answer for you. Every healer needs to know their plants from top to bottom." She stood up and walked over to the small chamomile brush, plucked one of the flowers from the ground, and returned to sit in front of Lyda. She gently stroked the minuscule prickles along the stem. "But you need to be as vigilant as you can. All chamomile came from far across the sea in the east, but some of them do not have the little hairs that give them away. Sometimes you have to look closer than the first details you see. What if I had a really bad fever, and needed medicine right away? Which herb would you get for me?"

"The feverfew," Lyda answered without effort. "Obviously. It helps to put an ease to fevers and pains in the head, teeth, and stomach."

"That's true," Iris agreed. "But what if you came across a chamomile plant that lacked the one simple detail you knew it by? If you brought me this instead of feverfew, all you would do is give me a good night sleep with a burning head."

The two of them laughed at her joke. Iris laid the flower on the rock between them, smiling proudly at her student. "You're doing great, Lyda," she said sweetly. "Almost as good as me. I believe you could be a mistress to some lucky student one day."

Lyda wanted to smile at her words, but her face suddenly fell down as if in sorrow. Iris took notice of this and asked her what was bothering her.

"Iris," Lyda said, looking her in the eyes. "Why can't you tell me more about the Spirits?"

Iris felt a wave of anxiety cross over her as she was quickly reminded of the stern conversation she had with Lyda's parents about this. They never told her why they forbade her daughter from learning about the divine figures of their ancestors, but who was she to question what they believed was best for her?

"I'd love to, but your parents won't allow it."

In a tone that almost shocked Iris, Lyda said, "My parents don't know what they're talking about."

"Hey!" Iris felt her blood run cold for a second, but it quickly faded away. "You shouldn't talk about your parents like that." She glanced into the woods on either side of them as if expecting to see somebody observing them. She then leaned in close and whispered with a grin, "The Spirits are watching!"

This joke only made Lyda bow her head in displeasure. Iris regretted saying anything.

"I'm sorry," she said, reaching over and gently lifting Lyda's chin. "I'm sure your parents have their reasons, even if they don't seem like they make sense. Still, I have to respect their wishes, and so do you."

Lyda tilted her head to the side. "But didn't you say this place we're in is cut off from the rest of the world?"

"It certainly feels that way," Iris affirmed.

"Well," Lyda began to twist her words, "wouldn't that mean what we do here doesn't matter out there?"

Iris looked both confused and concerned at the same time. "I don't understand what you're trying to say."

"Come on!" Lyda persisted. "We can talk about the Spirits out here all we want. Nobody's gonna know."

"Lyda-"

"Please?" Lyda begged. "I promise I won't say a word." She leaned a little closer to her mentor and, in a tone of voice that was almost skin-crawling, she said, "And I know you won't either."

Iris stared at her with a disturbed expression. Lyda sat there quietly, waiting for her to respond with an eager grin on her face. Eventually, Iris grew a smile of her own, thinking that somehow Lyda was right. She did not understand why her parents were so livid about her learning about this part of their culture, but surely there was no harm in a friendly conversation this far away from anyone who might hear them.

"Alright," Iris conceded with a laugh. "Just this once. You can ask me anything you want to know."

Lyda's face lit up with glee. "What were you telling me before?" she asked without hesitation. "About the ones called the Twins?"

For a moment, Iris looked as though she was about to regret this decision, but she immediately shrugged it off and proceeded to lose herself in everything she knew about the Spirits, particularly the ones that Lyda wanted to learn about. She told her about the great Spirit of the Sky, who gave birth to the patron deity of their ancestors: the Light Spirit, Sel. She told her that it was Sel who preserved the light of the world in the moon, to protect the world from the Darkness when the sun sank over the horizon.

When Lyda asked about the Darkness, Iris then told her that the Light had a twin brother; an evil twin who wasn't born, but rather forced his way from the womb of the Sky Spirit to pursue his brother, killing her in the process. This twin became known as the Darkness. Lyda asked if he had a name, but Iris only shuddered and claimed that the name was lost with the last remnants of their ancestral tribe. Nevertheless, she explained that the Dark Twin's only goal was to snuff out the Light and cover all the world in its Darkness. This led to a great war between the two brothers, which their people believed was waged in an endless, twelve-year cycle, taking the form of a devastating winter storm that swept over all the mountains in a single night. Lyda's jaw dropped. She remembered such a terrible storm occurring three years ago. It was the most horrific storm she had ever seen, and at the time, she thought that surely they would all freeze to death even in the comfort of their cottage.

Lyda found it impossible to contain her excitement as they talked endlessly about all the Spirits, but none gripped her interest nearly as much as the great Twins. No matter how hard she might have tried, she could not take her mind off them. It sounded as though they could wield the power to destroy the entire world if they so desired. She begged Iris to keep going on about them, but Iris said that it was all she knew. Lyda was not content with that. She desperately wanted to know more. She had to.

That night, Lyda was unable to sleep. She felt overly aroused by her spiritual conversation with Iris, and as promised, she did not say a word about it to anyone, not even her own sister.

Adea had been hesitant to go to sleep that night, remembering the horrible dream from before. She asked if she could sleep in her sister's bed again, but Lyda only shot her a look and said, "No. Grow up." Despite her fears, it did not take long for Adea to pass out, but Lyda was stuck in a state of limbo where she could not close her eyes no matter how tired she was. It got to the point that her eyes were burning with exhaustion, yet her restlessness prevented her from drifting off. Her mind was lost in wonder, desiring to know even more about the Spirits, but she knew that Iris considered their talk to be a one-time thing. It was like a terrible itch rising from the very depths of her soul.

Just then, an idea lit up in Lyda's head that she would not have considered in her wildest dreams, lest she face the judgment of her parents. It was worth the risk, she thought. She had to know more.

Lyda threw off her blanket and stepped out of bed. She slid her feet into the wool slippers by her nightstand and headed quietly out of her room, taking with her the candle from the stand. It was too dark to see much in the hallway outside, but Lyda knew her way around well enough. She tiptoed down the hall until she came to the staircase, taking each step slowly as she held her hand against the wall as if for balance. Eventually, she could see the dim light of the moon seeping in through the windows downstairs, illuminating the cottage just enough for her to see where she was going.

Lyda headed into the kitchen, grabbed a match from one of the cabinets, and lit the candle again. She had put it out herself shortly before she meant to go to sleep, so there was still a bit of the wick left to burn. From there, she silently made her way out of the kitchen and down the foyer leading toward the front door. Instead of going to the door, however, Lyda turned to face another doorway that was just underneath the staircase going up. She slowly turned the rusty doorknob and pulled it open as gently as she could.

A great veil of darkness seemed to pour out from the cellar as she opened the door. Lyda swallowed nervously as she took her first step into the dark, allowing the candlelight to guide her. The only consolation to her anxiety was that she knew somebody else was down here; her aunt Mara. Lyda tried to make herself laugh inside by imagining Adea doing something like this, as afraid of the dark as she was.

As Lyda neared the bottom of the splintering steps, she held her hand close to the candle's ember to keep the light from glowing too brightly, and she scanned around at her surroundings. She had only been down in the cellar a few times before, and that was prior to Aunt Mara moving in with them. Everything looked the same for the most part, with all their tools and food stores lining the walls on either side, but many things were moved out of the way to allow her aunt to accommodate a corner at the back of the large area.

She slept in bed no bigger than Lyda's, which was positioned directly in the corner. To Lyda's surprise, she could just make out that the bed was surrounded by a curtain suspended from the rafters above. She smiled in relief, knowing that there was no way Aunt Mara would catch her. Still, she kept the candlelight shrouded with her hand so it gave off just enough illumination to see where she was going.

Lyda snuck over to the shelf that was erected against the wall just beside Aunt Mara's bed. She did not have much there, mostly just a bunch of books and notes from her days as a gardener - seems to run in the family, Lyda thought - as well as a few personal items that meant nothing to Lyda. Aunt Mara was just as obsessed with the Spirits as she was, so surely there were things she knew about them that Lyda did not. She continued to rummage up and down the shelf but found nothing in regard to the Spirits or any such teachings that she hoped might be there. It did not make sense. What else could possibly have resulted in Aunt Mara being shunned by the Valley the way she was?

At the sudden sound of Aunt Mara shuffling around behind the curtain of her bed, Lyda froze and went silent as if she had been punched in the gut. She shielded the candle's flame as best she could, hoping that her aunt would not wake up and pull away the curtain. She would be in huge trouble if she was caught down here. Fortunately, the shuffling stopped, and after about ten seconds of silence, Lyda let out a quiet sigh of relief before her eyes fell upon a relatively large object sitting in the shadows beneath her bed frame.

Lyda knelt and set the candle on the floor behind her, now shielding the light with her body, as she reached under the bed and carefully pulled out the object. It was a book of some sort, but this one was much larger than the ones on Aunt Mara's shelf, and it looked indescribably old. The spine appeared as though it might break apart at the slightest touch, and its face was covered in a layer of dust. She did not know why, but the mere sight of it made Lyda's skin crawl. Without a second thought, she tucked the book beneath her arm, grabbed the candle, and hurried back to the cellar stairs.

Lyda could not get out of there fast enough. After carefully shutting the cellar door, she headed back toward the kitchen and set the book and candle down on the island in the center. She pulled up a stool and sat comfortably at the island before examining the book she had just made off with. She took in a breath and blew the dust off the cover, which formed a thick cloud just above it before dissipating away. Looking at the cover, there appeared to be no title or any even so much as a design of any kind. It was just a blank, leather cover that gave nothing away. Lyda flipped the book over to see if she was simply looking at the wrong side, but there was nothing on the back either.

Curiosity getting the better of her, Lyda opened the book to the first thick parchment, blowing away the dust and dirt that littered the yellowing page. She wondered how old this book really was to have collected so much filth. Lyda slid the candle closer until she could make out some faded writing on the center of the page. It was written in the common tongue, but in a style that was almost too difficult to read. That did not stop Lyda, and her eyes lit up in astonishment. She had to read it over and over just to make sure she was seeing it right, squinting as she read the writing in the faint candlelight: Tome of the Spirits.

Jackpot! she thought. This was beyond anything she could have imagined. Who knew what might be written on the rest of these pages. Lyda began flipping through them excitedly, searching for something that might pique her immediate interest. She hoped to find anything regarding the Twins, until at last, she came upon something that caught her eyes. It was not the Twins, but it looked like a vague drawing of a peculiar-looking plant that, after today, she recognized at once. There was a name written just above the image.

"Rhododendron," Lyda read in a low whisper. Her eyes panned down to the small print below the plant, and she struggled to read it. "Though known to be poisonous, we have managed to brew it into an effective tonic capable of remedying pains and sickness all over the body."

Lyda was taken aback by what she just read. "Iris," she muttered, "you lied to me?" That did not seem like her mistress. Of course, Lyda had never come across this plant before, even in her studies. It was possible that Iris was just as ignorant of it as she was. Then how, she wondered, did Iris know that it was a poisonous plant when she did not? Lyda could not escape the feeling that she was being lied to. There was a good chance this book might have the answers she was hoping to find.

Lyda read on. "The bush is a common sight all across the great mountains of the east. However, here in our newly founded territories, I have only seen it grow in one place.

"There is something very wrong with it. It is a place devoid of God Himself…"

God? Lyda replayed the unknown name in her head.

"The place knows no balance. It is a domain of the pagan spirits. I have heard the people of this mysterious tribe call it many names - the Spring, the Oasis, the Abyss, and the Well of Horns, or simply just the Well. The first time I saw it, I described it as more like a Well of Teeth. Now I have only one name for it. The Crossing."

Just below the last paragraph was a simple location within the book: Page 47.

Already intrigued beyond control, Lyda hastily flipped through the book until she came to page 47. It was difficult to make out some of the page numbers because of how faded they were, but Lyda knew she had found the right page when she read the title of the new passage at the top: The Crossing.

"When I first came across the place, the area was defined by towering clusters of rhododendron shrubs. I had never seen them so massive before. I followed the path which wound through the brush like a maze, as if a voice deep inside my very soul was beckoning me.

"Upon emerging from the brush, the sight I beheld was of such deceptive beauty. Two springs burst from the rock on either side of the great well, joining together to split the growth of the tree standing in the center, much the way the legendary Twins ravage this world with their never-ending battle.

"They call them Spirits, but I fear there may be a powerful demonic presence in that place, for when I tried to find it again, it was gone. The enormous brush of rhododendron which led me there was reduced to mere shrubs. I was certain I had followed the same path as before, and I tried many times thereafter to find it again, until one day, many years later, I did.

"I sit in its presence now, knowing that this is where I shall take my final breaths. Before I leap from the cliff in the ultimate sacrifice, I must ensure that the dark secrets of this place never again see the blessed light of day. I have found a way to erase the profane ritual from the pages of this tome, and I shall leave it here to disappear the next time this place vanishes. Forgive me, Lord, for my many offenses."

That was where the passage ended. Lyda was breathless. Even after everything she learned about the Spirits in the past, she never thought she would come across something like this. She turned the page in haste. However, the last few pages in the book were blank. What was more was that they looked as though someone had torn them out only to place them back in haphazardly. Lyda rifled through the several blank pieces of parchment as if expecting to find something else to the story.

"That can't be all," she muttered to herself. She could not believe that. What was this ritual the book mentioned so briefly? She desperately wanted to know more.

A sudden, muffled sound like a twig snapping outside made Lyda's head jerk up toward the window next to the back door. It took her eyes a short second to adjust from the candlelight. Her breath came to stop when she thought she could see a pitch black figure standing there, just outside the open window. No facial features, just a dark shadow staring right at her. Lyda's heart raced as she quickly rubbed at her eyes to make sure they were seeing clearly, but when she looked back up, there was nothing there.

Lyda sighed to herself. What was she afraid of? If there was one thing she learned from studying the Spirits, it was that fear was a mere primal instinct that could be transcended. She could not be like her sister, who was so easily frightened. She had to be stronger. She desired to be stronger, wiser. Perhaps the place spoken of in this book might give her some more information, if it was even real.

The light went off in her head as she recalled the place Iris had taken her to earlier. The rhododendron bushes were there, and whoever the writer of this passage was said they only grew in one place in these territories. Iris also talked about the peculiar feeling in the air that made her feel like they were somehow stepping out of their world and into another. Lyda knew it was true. She felt it as well. A feeling in her gut told her that it had to be the same place. She had to go back, but who knew if Iris would ever take her back there again if she told her what she was beginning to dabble into. Her parents were out of the question. They would only punish her dearly for mentioning the Spirits.

Lyda knew she would have to go alone, but when? It would have to be a time when nobody would notice she was gone. The problem was it took them six hours to walk all the way out there. That was too much time. Just then, she considered taking one of her father's horses. She shook off the temptation at first. He used them only for hauling supplies and trade goods to and from the Valley, and who knew what he might do to her if he found out she stole one in the middle of the night.

But this is far more important, Lyda sensed a voice speaking in her head. Of course it was! She was not willing to wait a moment longer. She could take one of the ponies, ride back out to that place in half the time, explore around for a little, and then be back before dawn. It was not as if she was going to be able to sleep tonight anyway. Without a second thought as to her rash actions, Lyda closed the leather-bound book and quietly hurried off to prepare for her little excursion.