2: Metethiet

2

METETHIET

 

 

 

 

“His will was set and only death could break it”

-J. R. R Tolkein, The Two Towers

 

 

          Sometimes when one suffers a great loss, they forget time and place, the day and the year, and simply wander uncertainly. When one has lost someone important to them, it is much easier to ignore the pain, simply forget what happened. When one has lost someone, it is easier to believe that they will come back.

          Forests have always carried a certain magical quality. Anything that old would have to. Perhaps the moonlight and the uncertain shadows of the trees are what make it feel so much like walking into a different world entirely. Emma, like so many others before her, found that somehow, amongst the overgrown plants and starlit boulders, she did not have to think so much about how alone she was, how vulnerable. A ten-year-old girl who had never left Ujin Hra, in a world that could comfort and destroy at the same time.  It could keep you safe one minute and kill you the next. Like Ty. Don’t think about Ty.

          Emma tripped and stumbled across the forest floor, not thinking about stopping for the night, not thinking about stopping at all. Lyulf kept pace with her, steadying her when she tripped, and leading the way through the darkness. Tawny owls hooted into the night, and in the distance wolves called to each other. Only a forest can be absolutely quiet, and yet full of sound.

          Emma’s knees hit something soft and furry. Lyulf had stopped, his ears pricked forward and his hackles raised. A voice in her head said “This way.”

Emma almost fell again. That was Lyulf talking! A familiar couldn’t speak until its master reached a certain level of magic. But how was that possible? He hadn’t been speaking this morning! She looked at Lyulf for the first time this evening. He was bigger! Did that mean she had grown up? The Death Spell. Maybe that’s what triggered it. Glowing green eyes were staring at her. He was waiting.

Emma followed the wolf into a little dip in the forest, like a miniature Ujin Hra. Don’t think about Ujin Hra.  A giant tree stretched its roots over the ground and into the stream that ran beside it. The sound of the water was soothing on her aching mind.

“We can sleep here tonight. Drink some water.” It wasn’t a request; it was a command.

          Emma kneeled down by the stream, took a sip, and found that she was thirsty. She hadn’t realized it until now. The water was cool enough that she could feel it sliding down her throat. She loved that feeling.

When finally she had quenched her thirst Lyulf led her to a place where the roots curled around in a circle for her to sleep. She shivered a little as she climbed down into the little bed. It was cold at night, and she had gotten the front of her shirt wet in the stream. Lyulf curled himself around her, trying to keep her warm. His steamy breath on her face comforted her enough to let her sleep. But even though Lyulf was there beside her, she still felt utterly alone.

 

 

 

When Emma woke the next morning Lyulf was gone. For a moment a wave of fear washed over her. Where was she? Where was Lyulf? Where were her parents? Then she remembered: the people screaming, her father’s face, Logan, silent and bloody in the manger. Don’t think about Logan. Don’t think about your father. Don’t think about how the blood got on your hands…

          Matathulaz bumped against her leg. She was standing infront of the tree, sweaty and sort of dizzy.

“What’s wrong?!”  Lyulf’s mental shout made her jump. The wolf came running down the slope into their miniature Ujin Hra. Don’t think about Ujin Hra. Don’t think about Ujin Hra!

“What do you mean?”

“You were screaming.” The wolf looked up at his master.

“I had a bad dream. It wasn’t real.” Don’t think about Ty. Don’t think about your mother.

Lyulf cocked his head a bit, but chose to ignore his master’s discreetness for now. “There’s a berry bush a little ways away. I was hunting a deer, but I lost it.”

His ears went down and he tucked his tail between his legs.

“It’s okay, Lyulf. I don’t know how to skin a deer anyway. Ty was…” Don’t think about Ty!

Lyulf waited for the rest of the sentence, but it never came.

“Emma?”

“Yes?”

“How do we know where Ty will be?”

Emma stared at her familiar. “What?”

“You said we were going to find Ty. The humans took him to be a slave, remember? You said we were going to rescue him and bring him is sword.”

“I said all that out loud?”

“Yes.”

          Emma stared at the wolf in disbelief. Had she been babbling all night long? Ty. They were going to find Ty. He wasn’t dead yet. She was not alone!

“I don’t know, Lyulf. We’ll just have to keep looking till we find him. Lets go find those berries. I’m starving.”

          The berries were not  “a little ways away”, more like two miles away. Maybe it seemed closer to a wolf. When they finally got there it was not “a bush”, more like a weed. Maybe it seemed like a bush to a wolf.

          The berries were sort of blue, and sort of sour, but at least they were edible. At least, she thought they were edible.

          When Emma had eaten all the fruit on the undergrown shrub, she licked sticky fingers and looked around at her surroundings. She had never gone this far into the woods before.

“How far did we go last night, Lyulf?”

“I’m not sure…” His nose was turned to the wind, scenting for any unwanted strangers.

          A shadow passed overhead. A big shadow…

“What was that?!”

Lyulf gazed up at the sky. “A dragon.” There was no concern in his voice. “Some live in these mountains.”

Fear crept into her belly. “A dragon? What kind of dragon?” Her voice was squeaky.

Lyulf gave a wolfy shrug. “I doubt they’re the kind that eat Hemyths, or we would have seen them in Ujin Hra. Lets move on. There’s a strange scent over there.”

Emma shifted uneasily.  “Lyulf? Where do I, um, relieve myself?”

Lyulf stared at her. “Find a tree.”

Emma blushed and went a little ways away, where he couldn’t see her.  She could still hear his mental laughter, though.

          Mati and wolf traveled through the woods until midday, when Lyulf spotted some more sour berries by a stream. Emma’s stomach churned as they set off again. She was starting to think that those berries were not meant to be eaten.

          By the time the sun was no longer directly overhead Matathulaz felt much heavier than it had before, as did her feet. Lyulf never seemed to tire, but Emma was wishing she had a fluffy pillow and some blankets.

Lyulf stopped suddenly up ahead.

“Lyulf, what…”

“Shush!”

Emma tried without success to quiet her heavy breathing. She could see nothing in the distance, and the trees weren’t as dense as they had been before. They were getting near the edge of the Cambrian Mountains.   

“Lyulf…”

“Hush!” He lifted his nose to the breeze. “Something is around this hill. It smells strange. I’ve never smelled it before…”

“Something bad, Lyulf?”

“I’m not sure.” His muzzle went to the ground, where there were some faint hoof prints.

“Horses?” Emma kneeled next to him to stare at the tracks.

“Doesn’t smell like any horse I’ve come across. They’re too small to be a horse’s tracks.” He turned his great head and fixed her with emerald eyes. “I’ll go see up ahead first. You stay here. I can’t be killed. You can.”

He touched his muzzle to her cheek briefly, then slowly went around the corner, crouching low to the ground.

Minutes went by like hours. The wind through the trees seemed to call her name, and when she didn’t answer the world filled with screaming. Images flashed before her mind. Her mother, Sandra, Ty, her father, her father’s face when the arrow hit his back, her mother dead on the ground, Logan in the manger, shadow on the ground. Blood everywhere, jeering at her, laughing at her. She could see her father’s familiar, Cansha, standing infront of her when she was three, licking her head. Her white legs as long as Emma was. Not a dog’s legs, a goat’s legs…

“EMMA!”

          Emma jumped violently.  Lyulf was licking her cheek. “Are you okay? You were shaking like a leaf!”

Emma didn’t reply. She was busy staring at the tall creature that stood before her.

          Emma had never seen a strayr before, but her parents had told her about them. They had the legs and tail of a goat, the arms and torso of a human, and a head like a cross between a mountain goat and a cow (or bull, in the males’ case). This one was a male, and his horns were so large that Emma couldn’t figure out how he held his head up.

The strayr looked down at her and gave it’s equivalent of a smile. “Hello, kidling.”

          It spoke very slowly in a very slurred version of Welsh. The only reason most people in Ujin Hra had known English was because of Emma’s father, who, though he was born in Ulster of Ireland, had learned English many years ago. “Hello.” Emma bowed her head to the Animyth.

“‘Oor friend tells me tha’ oo are lost. My herd ‘ill let ‘ou travel ‘ith us if ‘ou ‘ish.” It didn’t say “wuhs” or “yuhs” very well, but it did pretty good for having a goat’s mouth.

          Emma looked at Lyulf. “It’s safe.” Was his only reply

Travel with strayrs? Ty would never believe her.

 

Don’t think about Ty.

 

But she had to think about Ty. He was still alive. He needed her. She was not alone.

“Thank you very much, sir. I need a guide.”

“Many guides!” He threw his arms wide, as if he had decided to give the mountains to her. “’E have not seen a Mati kidling for many, many moonrises. ‘Ou are ‘elcome, very ‘elcome. “E wonder if ‘ou might be able to help us in return. My herd mate, Jamatian, has ‘ounded her hoof. “E ‘onder if ‘ou may be able to magic-heal her ‘ound. Please, may I ask for ‘our name? “

“Emma Sarasi Cyton of Ujin Hra.” How can I be “of Ujin Hra” if there is none?

“Cyton?” The strayr’s ears had pricked forward at the name. “Oh, little kidling, ‘y does the daughter of cuChulainn stand alone?”

Emma’s heart burned at the sound of her father’s name. “Because cuChulainn has fallen.” The words tasted like acid in her mouth. “The humans came to Ujin Hra yesterday morning. “-had it only been yesterday?-“They left no one alive except me and my brother, who has been taken for a slave.” It felt strange to say it. She knew it, knew it was true, but it still sounded wrong to her own ears.

The strayr’s ears layed down on his skull, and his eyes searched the ground.  Emma was startled to see a tear slip down his furry cheek. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand before speaking again.

“This is bad news, kidling, ‘ery, ‘ery bad. CuChulainn dead. His heir a slave!’

His eyes turned hard and he clenched his fists. “The humans are blinded by their own greed. Don’t they see? Their own kingdom cannot survive ‘ithout ours. ‘e rely upon each other. This is Arthur’s doing. He is the cause of all this. I have never seen magic go wrong before, but that sword should not have answered to him.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but who is Arthur?”

The strayr looked at her with surprise. “Kidling! “ou have not heard? Oh, ‘ou have much to hear. ‘Ou will travel ‘ith us. ‘E ‘ill take ‘ou to Tanackniatah. There ‘ou ‘ill learn much. “ou ‘ill find ‘our brother. CuChulainn’s heir must not die among humans! Come, this ‘ay. “

          Emma looked at Lyulf helplessly. Who was Arthur? Why did he want to kill Mythics? What sword?

“Kidling?” The strayr had poked his head around the edge of the rocks. Emma had to stifle a giggle, he looked so funny with his big goaty head around the rocks like that.

          Emma went to him, and he put a furry arm around her shoulders. “I am sorry about ‘our family, Emma. ‘Ery sorry. But please, do not be sad. “ou are safe ‘ith us. ‘E ‘ill be ‘our family. My name is Metethiet. ‘Ou may call me Thiet. I ‘ill protect ‘ou, No kidling should be ‘ithout a herd.”

 

 

 

          Jamatian was a young strayr, furred in browns and whites, instead of Thiet’s grays and blacks. She had stepped in a hole and twisted her hoof. Her ankle was bruised and swollen, and she fidgeted when Emma tried to look at it.

Oh Lord, Emma thought, I’m not a healer! How in Flora’s name do you do this? 

Lyulf? She spoke silently to her familiar. How do you heal something when it’s broken?

Lyulf looked over Emma’s shoulder at the injured strayr. Listen carefully, Emma

Look inside yourself. Can you see your cor?

          Mati were taught very young how to see “inside” themselves. Emma could see her own green magic pulsing and glowing inside her.

“I can see it.”

Good. Now, pretend that you can pull one strand of it out, like thread. Send it through your arm to her wound.

          Emma concentrated on her own fiery cor until a glowing strand pulled itself away. She ordered it down her arm to her hand. She could see Jamatian’s wound as an ugly redness in her mind’s eye. The anklebone was cracked.

          She was lost in the magic now, oblivious to anything but the problem at hand.

Send it into the foot. Bind the bone together once more. Order it to heal!

Emma ordered. Her hand glowed green for a second, then the magic flowed into the wound.

          In her mind she could see the green fire forcing the bone to fit together again, to be whole once more. It wrapped around it like a fiery snake, holding it in place.

I did it, Lyulf! I healed!

Yes. I knew you would. 

“Oh, Kidling, oo did it! Thank oo, thank oo!” Thiet wrapped his furry arms around her and hugged her fiercely. “My daughter ‘ill be alright now.”

Emma’s eyes grew wide. “Daughter?”

“’es.” His ears drooped. “All I have left. Mate is dead now. Humans kill her.”

His welsh got worse as he became more distressed. “That is ‘y  ‘e must go to Tanackniatah. That is ‘y  ‘e are leaving our home. The humans kill too many. “E must tell Telliandra about this, must find out if the humans kill just in ‘Ales, or all of Earth. “Es, ‘e ust. So  let us stay here tonight ‘hile Jamatian sleeps. Tomorro ‘e begin once ‘ore. “

That night the strayrs danced and played their legendary flutes just for her. Jamatian danced with them on her newly healed foot, babbling her thanks to Emma in rather awful Welsh, every once in a while letting a strayrish word slip in. The Animyths introduced her to their favorite dish: rats. (They failed too mention what the stew was made of until she had tasted it. It actually wasn’t that bad.)

Later Emma learned that even though she was taller than Emma, Jamatian was a year younger. Her mother had been killed a year ago. Metethiet was the head of the herd.

Metethiet told her that Arthur was the current king of Britain, and that ten years ago, on Emma’s birthday, he had pulled a magical sword from a stone. The spell had been placed there by Merlin, a half human Mati, to decide the new king. He worked now as Arthur’s adviser. Arthur and a his “knights of the round table” (what a stupid name, Emma thought when she heard it) ruled the country now, and, from what Metethiet had heard, there was a reward for any man who killed a Mythic.

It was 4,000 miles to Tanackniatah from here, six months on foot, and the strayrs could scarcely ride a horse. They only other animals they had with them were two donkeys, which they had named Left and Right. Emma soon learned that strayrs had a rather strange sense of humor.

The strayrs had a long stride and traveled easily over rough terrain, as they were part mountain goat. At first Emma had to practically run to keep up with them, and ended up tripping over loose rocks. Then Jamatian, known to her friends as Jami, showed her how to stretch her legs to their full extent when she walked, and how to find the best places to put her foot when she climbed. Soon her legs and ankles had grown strong, her strides had grown long, and she could climb as easily as a strayr.

The older female strayrs taught her and Jami haw to make jewelry out of carved beads and feathers. Emma quite enjoyed this, and she and Jami began collecting pretty stones and pieces of wood to make into beads. A young buck called Mastenar who had taken a liking to Emma inked a wolf head onto her shoulder for her. Lyulf approved.

When her clothes had been worn to nothing more than rags and her boots had holes in them the strayrs spent several hours trying to figure out how to make new clothes for her. Bucks only wore a loincloth, and does a loin cloth and a strip of material wrapped around their chest. They had little need for shoes.

What she ended up with was a wrap-around and a fairly decent pair of breeches, even though one leg was longer than the other. They had sewn a new piece of skin over the bottom of each boot, instead of attempting a new pair. Along with these they gave her a strip of leather for a belt to put Matathulaz and the dagger on, and some little leather bags. For her “green things” they said. They found it extremely funny that she was so taken to the color, and that she was constantly picking up green stones and feathers. Strayr humor.

On Jami’s tenth birthday, four months after the burning of Ujin Hra, They came across a herd of Animyths that Emma had never heard of.

They resembled the ancient brontosaurus in most aspects. But they had ears like a donkeys, and the males had a red plume on their head. Left and Right didn’t seem to see a resemblance, though. They bucked and snorted the whole time. The tall creatures took no notice.

“They called Irqoi.” Jami told her, admiring the bracelet Emma had made for her as a birthday gift. “They come from the Northern Lands. I forgetting ut oo call it.”

“Scotland.” Emma reminded her.

“Scolan.” Jami murmured.

 Emma smiled.

          The Irqoi stopped for a moment to talk in deep, resounding voices to Thiet, then went on their way. Metethiet would tell them later around the campfire that they were meeting with other Irqoi herds, to discuss recent events.

          On the sixteenth of April, Emma’s eleventh birthday, the herd presented her with a beautiful necklace and a bracelet to go with it. They were made out of pretty green stones, carved in the complicated strayr patterns that only the older generation could manage. Emma was so delighted that it ebbed away the pain a little that her parents weren’t there to see her turn eleven.

A month before they would reach the capitol, the end of April, they passed by Stonehenge, Wales, home of the Mati who worshiped the gods of the Sphere. The strayrs were nervous as the passed the temple, thinking that Emma would want to leave them. But the thought never crossed her mind. They were her family now.

          Emma was quite an accomplished healer now.  With Lyulf’s help she had learned how to heal everything from broken bones to snake bites. She had become the herd’s healer, and she liked it. Her magic was growing stronger and easier to handle, and it seemed like Lyulf was growing stronger, too. Older maybe.

          The night before they would get their first view of Tanackniatah Metethiet summoned her into the woods with him. He settled himself onto the ground and lit the pipe he was so found of.

“Kidling, oo are the youngest Mati I have ever known, and the oldest child I will ever know. “

Emma could not figure out what he meant by that, but she let it go for now.

“I ‘ould like oo to have this.” He pressed a slender object into her hand.

          It was a strayr flute, delicately carved and painted in colors that had once been bright, but were faded now. It was smooth, like it was very old and worn.

“It was my mate’s. She ‘as the most beautiful creature in the ‘orld. She danced like magic, and played like sunshine. She loved her flute almost as much as she loved me. “

Emma looked at the instrument in her hand, then at Thiet. “I can’t take this, Thiet. Don’t you want it?”

Thiet shook his head. “It ‘ill protect oo, Emma, from bad and ‘orse. I want oo to keep it. I have a feeling in my hooves that oo ‘ill need all the protection you can get.”

          Suddenly Emma felt like crying. Why did this feel like goodbye? She wasn’t going anywhere! Emma leaned over and hugged Thiet hard. “Thank you, Thiet. I’ll keep it with me forever.”

Thiet put an arm around her. “Oo better, kidling. Oo better.”