The Hammer Unfalls

Lhani watched Arrad and her father huddled together in the campsite. Arrad extended his arm. His eyes narrowed in concentration. A shard of ice flew from his hand into the forest.

He hissed in pain and shook his hand in the air, as if cooling it.

“If it hurts, ease off,” Papa Tom said. “Pain and plying don’t mix. You need to stay loose and sharp. We’ll find a comfortable way to build up your tolerance for heat. If you’re anticipating pain, it will throw you off.”

“Won’t practice get me there?” Arrad asked.

“I don’t know, son. But let’s try something. Follow me.”

He led Arrad towards the stream.

As they walked away, she overheard her father say: “Try casting with your hand underwater. The cold should pull some of the heat away, and make you more comfortable.”

“That’s a great idea!” Arrad said.

She shifted her attention to Tomyko, sitting in mama’s lap. Lhani smiled to herself, suspecting this might be one of the last times her younger brother would do so. Soon he’d be protesting his independence. But for now, he snuggled against his mother and showed her the tiny flames he was able to summon.

“That’s wonderful!” mama said, hugging him tight. Tomyko beamed with pride.

Lhani sensed movement behind her. Measured footsteps. Peaceful.

Gerard and Gertie sat down beside her. She’d forgotten what they looked like after her weeks of isolation. They seemed new to her, so she looked over their faces in curiosity. They both seemed young for their age, with the glow of health coloring their skin. Presumably from snacking on fresh vegetables straight from the soil. ‘The gardener’s perk,’ as Gerard had once described it to her.

But diet alone did not explain it. The siblings knew things. They pounded roots and leaves into dark yellow pastes, or soaked black seeds in water to form potions. Their knowledge of Æronthrall’s cycles gave them insights Lhani would never grasp. The gardeners had no essentiæ to ply. But they had wisdom in their hands, which worked the soil and picked the ripest fruit.

In that sense, they seemed older than their age would suggest. Comfortable in their own skins, even confident, in a way few others seemed to be.

Lhani peered at Gertie more closely, and realized she could not tell at all how old the woman was. Older than Lhani, but younger than mama. A bit older than her brother Gerard. Ages sort of jumbled together in Lhani’s mind. Once you got past sixteen or so, the grown ups blurred together into a lump of ‘older than me.’

She felt Gertie studying her just as closely as Lhani had done a moment ago. The woman’s eyes roamed Lhani’s face, and the white tips of her hair.

“You’ve come a long way, haven’t you?”

Lhani sighed.

“How’s your head?”

“Smooshed.”

Gertie laughed and patted her on the knee.

“Sounds like you could use some tea,” Gerard said, heading off towards the brook with a copper cup in his hand.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Gertie asked, as her brother walked away.

Lhani watched her mother kissing her brother’s forehead and cheeks, making exaggerated pecking sounds as he squealed and squirmed.

“It’s good to have visitors.”

“Getting a bit stir crazy, are you?”

They sat in companionable silence. Lhani felt awkward, unaccustomed to a presence that wasn’t her parents. But relieved to have new energy in the camp.

“You scried Arrad today,” Gertie said at last. “That’s a bigger challenge than any you’re likely to face in Hiehaven.”

“But I’m not sure I’m ready to help others,” Lhani said. She recalled the surreal image of leeches dragging a doe into the water as they siphoned off her essentiæ.

Mama set Tomyko aside. “Go find your brother,” she said, then came over to join Gertie while Tomyko ran off towards the stream. She touched Lhani’s hair, looking at the random smattering of white at the tips.

“Helping others is usually not that bad. You’d be surprised how effective it is to send a bit of empathy or encouragement to someone. Simply feeling heard helps them. A touch of warmth suffuses them more than you’d expect. Their minds do the rest.”

“I’m afraid, Mama.”

“Tea can help with that,” Gerard said, returning from the brook. He set the mug near the fire and raked a coal next to it. He sprinkled a handful of dried leaves into the water.

“And people who care for you,” Gertie added.

“Experience will come quickly,” her mother said. “People’s problems, when you simmer it down, fall into predictable patterns. You’ll figure out what works soon enough.”

Before long, Gerard handed her the mug. She took it and let the steam billow into her face. The nuanced scent invigorated her. Sparkles shimmered in her mind.

“A bit of a boost in that,” Gerard said with a wink.

“Remember this moment,” mama said. “You always need to gather pleasant memories.”

Lhani sipped the hot tea and let it warm her. The flavors tickled her nose and blossomed in her mind. A breeze ruffled her hair. She felt at peace.

The animated voices of her brothers drifted through the woods, and soon they emerged from the trees. Papa Tom looked around and stretched.

“Who’s ready to head home?” he asked, smiling at Lhani.

She leapt up, sloshing the tea. “I’ll pack my bedroll.”

————— ~~~ *** ~~~ —————

A few years later Lhani sat at the dining table at the center of Hiehaven. Rough nubs of flax scraped against her fingertips, catching in the tiny valleys of her fingerprints. She flicked them aside into a burlap bag and stroked the silky, long fibers. Soon, she and Gertie would spin them into thread and weave them into linen cloth.

She pictured the fabric in her mind. Stiff at first, but ever softer with wear. She thought of the tunics she’d make. Flowing skirts to catch the wind. Perhaps she’d make garments for her brothers as gifts. Tomyko always seemed to need new pants. The knees gave out far too soon.

From down the lane, Lhani caught the sound of a child sobbing.

Her mother started to rise, but Lhani stood first. “I’ve got this, Mama,” she said, smoothing the flax from her hands.

Lhani walked past a row of lodges to a small cabin at the end, where a young boy sat on a stump. He sniffled at her approach and attempted to look brave.

“What is it?” she asked.

“It’s… it’s our cat. He died.”

“Oh, no! I’m so sorry to hear it.”

She listened to him talk about his pet, resting a gentle hand on his back.

Remember the good moments. Remember how much you loved her. Know that she appreciated your care.

His sniffles ceased and he looked up with a sad smile.

“It sounds like your cat had a wonderful life. I know you’re upset, and nothing can replace her. Even so, your kindness was always in her heart. I’m sure she is at peace.”

“Thank you for listening, Seer Lhani.”

She patted his hand. “If you need me, I’m here.”

She walked back to the table just as a commotion sounded from the village gate. Three horses trotted through.

Arrad pulled back the hood of his cloak and nodded to her in greeting. Tomyko leapt from the saddle and ran over to her. He’d recently grown taller than she, which Lhani still wasn’t accustomed to. The thirteen-year-old spurt, as Gertie called it.

“Good hunt?” she asked.

“We just found a nest of pheasants!”

“I thought there were no more?”

“We did too! But here is the proof.”

He pulled a trio of birds from a sack.

“Well, get them dressed! We’ll dine well tonight.”

“And keep those feathers!” Arrad said. His calm voice, a bit deeper than Tomyko’s, held a tone of command. “They’ll be good for fletching arrows.”

Arrad touched his forehead to Lhani’s. Silver light sparkled briefly between them. She saw firelight and boasts. Rain. The glimmer of elk eyes in the dim, and Arrad’s sure hands pulling the bowstring. Efficiency. Satisfaction. Father and Tomyko helping him dress the doe. A dinner of tenderloin roasted over red coals in the afternoon. Three days of allowing the carcass to hang in the frosty air. Boredom.

“Welcome back,” she said, pulling away.

Villagers helped unload the meat.

“I can’t wait to take a bath,” Arrad said.

“You’ll be sharing the tub with flax stalks if you do,” she said.

Arrad groaned.

“No place like home, right?” she said, laughing. “Cheer up, brother. We’ve plenty of buckets.”

She pointed to a few wooden pails on the table, filled with clean water.

“Fear not, son. I’ll have that water warmed up in no time,” Papa Tom called out. He held his hand over a bucket. In a few moments she heard bubbles, and steam rose from the water.

“I’ll be off, then.” Arrad sauntered away, lugging the bucket with an exaggerated sigh.

Later, after a raucous evening of tall tales from the hunters, and a welcome feast of venison steaks, Lhani sank into her bed with a sleepy smile. She pulled her covers tight. The warm woolen blanket pressed around her, and she drifted off to sleep.

She dreamed of a ghostly cat chasing pheasants into a pie crust, and kneading the dough shut with its paws. It meowed at her, but no sound came out. Only a gentle breeze, which brushed past her ears with a lulling whisper.