Part V: The Journey Begins

SHARNA

Solis, the woman in the Black Grange caused this... there weren’t always dragons in the valley… knew the dragons were dangerous…dragons take my children…move to another hearth… hearth with no dragons? …The Feast ruined…. too old to fight with dragons… Hearth Keeper isn’t doing enough….

And on and on. Since the dragon’s attack, my mind has been like a wasps’ nest with my neighbors’ relentless buzzing thoughts. I’ve barely slept a wink. My head is throbbing and there’s a sharp pain behind my eyes.

My gift, which is currently a curse, is universal mental transmission. Many people can send and receive thoughts, or at least pictures, from people they know and love. I can gather anyone’s thoughts. This might seem like a blessing, but my mind is never still. I know things about people that I wish I didn’t know.

I can send thoughts to anyone if I’m able to visualize them in their location. If I want, I can focus on a person or a place and I begin to feel emotions and see pictures from that individual. Sometimes I get clear pictures, sometime sounds and sometimes nothing but a strong emotion or idea. There are times too, when I perceive something clearly, but I can’t identify the source.

It is impolite for someone with my abilities to look at others’ thoughts without their permission. I have to admit that I have moments when I need information, or when I’m curious that I peek when I shouldn’t. These moments have led to both arguments and embarrassment with hearth companions more than once. When I want to avoid mind transmissions, I can simply move my attention on to something else and ignore the other people’s thoughts, almost like looking away with my eyes.

Most of the time these thoughts aren’t fully formed into words and the better I know someone, the clearer the message. Some thoughts are intrusive. The thoughts of hearth minders I’ve known all my life flood over me now like a torrential storm.

Following the attack at the Feast of the Return, thoughts have been intense, loud and continuous. I’m unable to keep them at bay. I can barely sort out what I’m seeing or where it’s coming from.

The front of my skull aches and my temples pound. I can get no relief. There is always someone awake and sinking into a black pit of anxiety, fear, and speculation.

Solis saw my gift the first time I met her. She has some form of the gift, but her's is learned whereas mind is natural. It is why she ordered me to join the party leaving the hearth. I want to scream at how unfair it is. I never asked for this gift. Leaving the hearth will only introduce me to new people, new thoughts, and a disequilibrium in my daily existence. I don’t want more responsibility; I want less. I don’t want to know more about people; I want to know less. What I want most is to be left alone, at least for the time being.

But if I must go, then I'm eager to get going, not least because I hope that distance from my neighbors will provide me some relief from their thoughts

We stand in a half-circle, facing the Hearth Keeper and an assortment of hearth minders holding offerings. The hearth has turned out to bid us farewell, although the sun is just up and many hearth fires are still banked. This time of year, it’s usually a pleasure to see our children with their fathers. Today, it’s sad to see smiling children hoisted on their father’s shoulders to see better knowing we have to say goodbye.

The Hearth Keeper steps forward, bows, offers me a sip of tea from our communal bowl. I bow and take a sip. Next to her is our neighbor’s eldest daughter, who carries a tray with a teapot and stack of pesyps twigs. She walks carefully. She’s nervous and afraid of making a mistake. The Hearth Keeper sets the communal bowl on the tray and selects a twig and snaps it in half. She offers me the two halves on her open hand. I take one half and slide it into a lambskin pouch around my neck. I will carry this broken stick with me until I return, when I will throw it into my home hearth to burn. The Hearth Keeper will use this, and many other twigs like it, to start a fire on the Feast of the Return. It is a hopeful sign that we always expect members of our hearth to return. Even when we are apart, we are still one Hearth. The Others do this when they depart, but it is strange to see women who have never left the Hearth performing this familiar ritual. Our circumstances are profoundly different because we don’t know when or if we will ever return.

Next to me, I can feel Astiah’s mind, bursting like fireworks and ready to be on the road. Granye takes a sip and her eyes meet Solis’ as she spits. They both feel the weight of this expedition on their shoulders, both fear failure but for different reasons. Solis’ mind is spacious and clean, but weary. She can see my thoughts, but she can also hide most of hers. Granye, always a sensible, solid sheep-tender, doubts her ability to lead. I can feel how leaving Helia, Anicah and Keva tears at her heart. She worries about them and about the work she leaves behind. I also see the grief of Fengranyes’ unknown fate.

My hearth mates Mre, Vanah, and Maura stand holding hands. Maura and Vanah are crying. Mre stands apart, perhaps happy to see the back of me. Our relationship has always been contentious, perhaps in part, because I’ve abused my ability to see her thoughts. The temptation to look into my hearth companions’ minds is very great, and the temptation to talk about it is greater. I try to clear space in my head to send her one last plea for forgiveness. I see the look or resistance cross her face.

As I said, my gift is also a curse.

The children from each of our hearths move forward to offer gift to all the travelers. This is also our custom, but each hearth usually offers gifts only to those they are close to. Today, because it is an unusual circumstance, each hearth has prepared a gift for all the travelers.

The daughters from Granye’s hearth offer each of us a skin filled with a fragrant oil and a cloth bag of blended tea.

Ankahelia, the youngest, says in a timid voice, “The oil heals you outside, the tea heals you inside.” She runs back and presses her face against her mother’s leg. Her brother Tharhelia pats her on the back.

Sarvastiah, Astiah’s oldest, steps forward with a dozen squares of dried, hardened bread called dram for each of us. I suspect we will eat this when all other food has run out. Amidst the buzzing of neighbors’ thoughts, I hear of Sarvastiah’s pride in this contribution. Most of the hearth spent yesterday preparing food for our trip. He nods seriously as each of us accepts our gift. He is angry at Astiah. They argued just moments earlier, but I can only see the emotion, not the content of his anger.

With each gift, we nod graciously. I feel Astiah screaming inside my head for the formalities to be over. I also feel Granye’s reluctance to depart. Oh! It is Blix. He holds her heart. Granye in love? It’s so impractical, so out of character.

I am tired and cold but also eager to get started. The emotions of the rest of the hearth wash over me. With distance, their thoughts will dim. On the road, I will pass images to the Hearth Keeper and to Sorsha, Maura and Helia while we travel. In this way, we will remain connected to our hearth. For the first time, I wonder how far thoughts can travel. Is it possible we will go such a great distance that I won’t be able to reach our home?

##

The end of our first day walking. It is farther than I have ever been away from our hearth. Already I feel the murmurings of surrounding hearths I’ve never been to. I’ve Astiah’s worries for Sarvastiah weighed on me all day. They aren’t clear, just a continuous anxiety. I might ask her tonight.

Two of the men who have accompanied us build a fire. We circle around, in the waning sunlight, warming our hands. Granye stirs lamb stew in a kettle over the fire. The smell wafts across the camp. She does it in a calm, expert way, no doubt used to the long nights of lambing season. The Others busy themselves bringing water, collecting wood and setting up camp. I see the routine of the road is familiar to them. It is a marvel to watch their proficiency. Their thoughts are hard to read; they are like the surface of rock, fixed and solid. It’s as though the ordinary flow of the mind stream has congealed in their heads. I see only their intention to set up camp and little else.

Taiye and Astiah huddle together at the edge of the camp, talking quietly. Again, I see the conflict with Sarvastiah, but still can’t get the content.

Granye and Solis sit down on a rock near the fire. Solis opens a book and hands it to Granye. Granye pinches her eyebrows together, frustrated with herself that she can’t learn faster.

It seems like it would be a gift to understand all these thoughts, without some context, are a like a deep, black river flowing past, and I’m unable to penetrate its depths.

Solis calls, “Please join us at the fire.”

We all circle around, some sit and some stand. The men continue their work, completing a few last tasks before nightfall. I shudder in the half-darkness, already feeling the cold away from my hearth.

Solis says, “No doubt you all wonder what our plan is. I will do my best to tell you what I can for the moment. We are heading for a hearth where we hope to borrow horses.”

A murmur rises up. We all know there are hearths that have a unique relationship to horses. Except for the Others, most of us have only ever seen a horse in the wild. The idea of being close to one, much less taming or riding one, is strange.

People of the hearth have no sense of ownership or domination over species, it’s true we keep chickens and sheep, but these we care for tenderly, and allow them a degree of personal sovereignty. Riding a horse seems like a kind of control over a species which most of us find disconcerting.

Solis continues, “Time is of the essence and riding horses will speed up our trip. Even if we have to spend a few days learning to ride.”

Granye’s fear rises inside of me, then I feel her tame it. She has an extraordinary mind, one she easily tames, even though she's riddled with doubt. Taiye and Mixa are both unfamiliar with livestock. They don’t manage their fear as well.

I say, “Solis, many may be afraid of the horses. What do you say to them?”

She turns to me projecting inside my head, Sharna, you will learn to hold your tongue. We will all face many dangers, and I don’t need you to remind me of this every step of the journey.

I look at her, defiant. “And what about the Others? Will they have horses to help them rejoin the Wanderers on their journey?”

“That, at least,” Solis looks at me level, willing me to keep quiet, “is a good question. The men will join us on horseback for a few days after we collect the horses. Then they turn west on foot, leaving their horses with us.”

I marvel at how much she knows about the world outside the hearth.

“The main thing I need you all to know tonight is that we are heading for the Darkken Woods. We hope to reach them by tomorrow night, but we prefer to enter the woods in daylight. It reduces the risk of encountering jaguars. As many of you already know, we rarely go into the woods. There is a gap in the woods near the river but it would add two extra days to our trip. Days, I fear, we cannot afford.”

“But jaguars?” one of the older men says. “Is it wise for us to brave the woods at the risk of being attacked?”

“They are fewer now.” Solis says sounding more confident than I can tell she feels. “If we move quickly, we hope to spend only one day and one night in woods. I hope the risk will be low.”

Granye stands. She goes to the kettle and lifts it off of the fire. “Bring your bowls. The food is ready.”

We bed down for our first night in the wild. Soon the men are snoring. In a nearby copse, I hear a rustling sound. I turn uneasily and sit up, trying to decide if I should alert someone.

Astiah says, “Go to sleep Sharna, it’s just a rabbit.” She stands, pokes at the fire and adds a log, then lays back down and pulls her blanket over her.

The strange thing is, that the noise is gone, but suddenly I can to hear new thoughts. I feel an anger at Astiah, but also love and admiration. I look around to see who else is awake, but the camp is quiet. Before long, I drift off to a welcome, dreamless sleep.

##

We are passing through hilly country after a long stretch of flat but verdant land. Looking back, I can see we are climbing gradually. It isn’t hard work and most of our party has settled into a kind of quiet determination. Only Solis knows how far we have to go before we reach the woods. I have moments when I wonder if we should rely so heavily on her. She’s an outsider to our hearth. Until a few months ago, most of us had barely spoken to her.

When I probe her mind, I see she is, at least for now, confident of our route. She can resist my intrusions with little difficulty, but I’ve been able to read enough of her to feel comfortable following her.

More troubling is the feeling I have had all day of being hunted. I don’t believe jaguars live in the open. I’ve never seen one, and for most of my life they have retreated to the wild places. Occasionally, we see them in the high pastures. Lately, they have become more rare. I can’t tell if the thing hunting us is a jaguar or something else. Each time we come to the summit of a hill, I stop and look back down, but I have seen nothing yet. I persuade myself that I’m just anxious about the unknown.

At our midday break, we pull out some dram and cut chunks of salty, preserved lamb from our provisions. The men eat standing, looking back down the hillside we climbed. Have they seen something that’s made them suspicious?

I drink from my water skin, then pack my food away. We are finally far enough from the hearth that the voices of my neighbors are fading. If I concentrate, I can feel Vanah at the hearth making bread for dinner. Maura, on her knees, harvesting a few carrots and some young potatoes. I long for the routine of my hearth. I consider turning and walking back home. Giving up this mission, except that I know without me, communication will be cut off. On this journey, we can’t rely on passing letters when so much is at stake.

Solis stands above me. “Sharna, I need to see if you can reach out ahead of us. See if you can find the Hearth Keeper and tell them we are coming.”

I start to protest, but I see the look on her face. It isn’t a request, it’s an order.

“You have tremendous capacity, Sharna, but you have never tested it. I think you can do much more than you know. It’s time for you to try.”

“But, how do I…”

Then I feel a strange sense like I am picked up by a wave. Solis has her eyes closed, facing east. Together we pass through the black woods, enter the streets of the distant hearth. I hear the clatter of horse hooves.

“Yes,” she says quietly, “Yes, you can see.”

“But…” I sputter, “I don’t know what to do now.”

“Move through the hearth. Feel for the Hearth Keeper. You have done this with people you know. Now try with people you don’t know.”

I relax, wandering the hearth, feeling my way like a blind person, toward some sense of duty, organization, someone who holds the center of the hearth. Then suddenly, it’s all disrupted by the predator nearby. My eyes pop open. I look around warily.

Solis looks perplexed. “What is it?”

“Do you feel it? Something hunting us?” I say quietly so no one else will hear.

She nods. “Yes, since sunrise this morning.”

“What should we do?” I ask.

“Nothing, for the moment. Stay wary.”

She walks away, turns and with a little flick of her hand indicates that I should return to the horse hearth and keep trying to reach their Hearth Keeper. With some effort, I reenter by the same pathway, this time hearing a horse whinnying in the distance. I’m exultant for a moment that I’ve been able to navigate back. Now I have to find someone I’ve never met in a place I’ve never been.

##

We arrive at the woods after dark. I can sense the trees more than see them. Halting, my concern about being stalked deepens. The men are anxious about setting up camp at night, and they are ill at ease so close to the tree line.

One of them speaks to Solis. I’m standing near enough to hear. “There are still jaguars in these woods. I have to ask again, are you sure about entering the woods in the morning? Even when I’m traveling with many men, we go around to the woodland gap. Most of us avoid these woods because they are so dangerous.”

Solis answers somewhat impatiently, “I’ve heard you, Svor. I understand your discomfort. But the gap is at least another day’s hike. Time we can’t afford.” I can’t see, but I read the stubbornness in his mind. He isn’t used to be contradicted, but this is all I can see. He stomps into the distance, where I hear him giving curt orders to the rest of the men.

Once the fire is burning, we all sit close around it, eating dinner in silence. The woods are alive with sound, the rustling of branches, creaking and the occasional scurry of animals. I try to feel the stalker, but it is nowhere to be found. I fall into a troubled and fitful sleep. When I awake in the night, I’m afraid to leave the fire circle to relieve myself. I sit up and stare into the flames, willing the sun to rise. With everyone asleep, the relief of having only my own thoughts is profound.

##

I jerk awake in the morning. I dreamt of a jaguar crouched behind a tree. I tried to warn the others that it was hiding there, but my voice won’t come out. When I tried to run, my limbs moved as if I were underwater. The feeling of being ill-prepared for this expedition haunts me in my wakefulness.

I feel the hunter again. Something's lurking, watching. Or maybe someone. I could never divine the thoughts of animals but I can feel this nagging sense of being tracked. Solis looks at me and nods—she feels it, too.

In the distance I see where the grassland we’ve passed through meets the woods. The grass thins out as it enters the forest and slowly surrenders to a blanket of needles and the dusky earth. I gasp. The trees are magnificent, straight, the height of maybe 60 people. The limbs are like shelves spiraling upward, seeming to touch the sky. In some places, they grow so close together a person couldn’t pass between them. I stand awestruck at their ruddy beauty.

Solis pushes a thought into my mind. This feeling of awe will not be the last, Sharna.

Not far into the woods, it becomes almost as dark as night. That we plan to enter the woods, or spend the night there, fills me with dread. Appreciating the Darkken Wood from a distance is one thing; crossing through it is another.

##

Our first day in the Darkken Woods has been exhausting and disappointing. Twice we turn back after walking a significant distance and encountered a grove too thick to pass through. In the middle of the day, we hear what sounds like the roar of the jaguar, which is only one of the alarming sounds we heard.

Then at the day’s end, we face a river that races so fast it is impossible to ford. The men propose scouting the shore to see if they can find a spot safe enough for us to cross. But it is too late in the day for them to begin, so we have to surrender and set up camp by the river. The one benefit is that we are close to water, and a small shallow eddy provides a place where those willing to brave the cold can bathe.

While I bathe, I can hear the conversations in camp, and feel the doubts and disappointments of our traveling party. In particular, Mixa finds the journey tedious and spends much of her time thinking about when she returns home. Granye and Solis spent much of the day walking together, talking part of the time. When I probe, all I can feel is a teacher and a student, the subject eludes me.

I lay back and feel myself floating on the surface of the river. Then I try again to enter the mind-space of the horse hearth. Oddly, there are men living permanently in this hearth. There are also many craft workers whose minds are busy with dimensions, leatherwork and carving wood. Much of what they think about makes no sense to me.

Though I can’t precisely see the people, I understand a special bond with the horses. The horses are like hearth companions. I can't enter the horses' thoughts, but I see they are respected for their wisdom.

I come upon a woman, deeply concerned about the dwindling water supply. The horses need a steady supply of water, without it they will leave. She has been worried about this for some time. I sit up with excitement. This may be their Hearth Keeper.

Very gently, I reach out to her. It is Sharna of the Northerealm Hearth.

For a moment, I feel her panic. I seek permission to send a message.

She pauses, seems confused. Then replies clearly, Speak on, Sharna of the Northerealm.

##

Having delivered the message, I sit by the fire, running my fingers through my hair, trying to dry it before I lie down. My headache, which has tormented me for days, has finally subsided. I’d never thought what a relief it might be for me to live outside of a hearth until now.

Two of the men sit at the edge of the camp, murmuring. They will stand guard until the Wandering Moon sets. We are hemmed in on all sides by the massive trees. A canopy of branches overhead nearly blocks out the stars.

Astiah and Granye have arranged their bedrolls next to each other. Astiah speaks adamantly. Granye says something in a soothing tone of voice that I can’t make out. A private conversation, but the temptation to probe the contents of their minds is great.

I probe for the thoughts of the hunter that has plagued me. I can’t find it anywhere.

When I lie down, I fall asleep almost instantly.

#

I awaken later. A heavy mist lays next to the river. Both moons have set and it is inky black. Everyone is asleep, though there should be at least one man on watch somewhere nearby. I need to relieve myself, but not near our camp. I push the end of a stick into the coals until a flame bursts out at the end. I carry my makeshift torch out in front of me. I scramble up the bank near the river. The trees press in close. I find a gap that seems to open into a small clearing.

It’s almost as if the trees are having a meeting, standing in a broad circle around the clearing. When I look up, the sky is studded with a million stars. I push my torch into the soft earth and lie down on the blanket of thick needles below and look up at the stars. In the middle of the sky is a big yellow star. This time of year, when it’s larger, I can make out a disc within the blurry edges.

As I lie there quietly, I feel something, something like thoughts, but then it feels more like stories. I keep still and try to feel the stories clearly. They feel like histories, stretching back across time. I lose all sense of time in the present day as I wander through these ancient stories.

I see the woods cover even the land where our hearth stands. Unfamiliar bird calls, howls, and squeaks fill my senses. I understand I am seeing memories. Memories from long before there were hearths. I try to feel my way to the owner of this ancient memory, but it seems to be all around me.

It was so foolish for me to come out here by myself. I sit up and hold the torch aloft. For a moment I think I see a great gleaming eyeball on one of the tree trunks. In the dark, I can’t be sure. Then the stalker’s thoughts intrude again.

When I stand and turn, holding my torch up, all the trees seem to be just as they were. I want to find the source of memories and I want to inspect the trees more closely. I sense there is someone very close, that there’s a feeling of uncertainty.

I run headlong through the clearing back towards the camp. As I reach the edge of the clearing, my fire stick flames out. I stumble forward through the trees, and see our campfire flickering near the river. The stalker feels very close now, but its mind feels afraid.

Something solid catches around my legs. Then, I feel a blinding pain like something is clamping down on my calf.

##