Episode 57

We like to think that places don’t change

Mountains are fixed and valleys stay the same

So the towns that we love can be left with their culture

Frozen in time like a painting or sculpture

But mountains do move on magma plates

Valleys are carved at glacial pace

And so do towns change in their way

Moulded by them that leave and those who come to stay

By the end of her second day since waking up, Lilian was insufferably bored. It had been a week now since she’d fought the sisters and judging by the reports things were not looking good. Brother Thomas had visited the day before and brought Lilian some sugar pears. Her parents had visited soon after and brought an ecstatic Fritha along with them. Thankfully, the feinhound’s energy was easily matched by little Emma and the two of them bounced around the house for an hour before collapsing in a heap in the living area. That evening though it was Doran’s turn to visit. He had been feeding and walking Afaran and had been trying his best to infiltrate any meetings held by Sage Fenric and his growing collection of followers. Lilian’s leg still hurt when she moved it but her fever was well and truly gone. Right now she was sitting in an armchair by the fire, stroking Fritha with her foot and listening to Doran and Esther discuss the current state of the town. Doran was whittling a piece of wood. Emma was nearby, playing with a set of wooden blocks.

“More go every day,” Doran was saying, “the grove is starting to look like a Laguina camp. People have brought cooking pots, constructed basic shelters, all so that they can be closest when Sage Fenric decides to speak. I went to the Stave yesterday for the service, the room was… noticeably empty. The church Brothers and Sisters are all putting on brave faces, but you can tell it’s getting to them.” He flicked a shaving into the fire and Lilian watched it curl and crackle into the embers.

“I haven’t seen him speak yet, surely he can’t be that charming,” asked Esther.

“I’ll grant that he has a certain charisma. He tells a decent story.” Lilian detected a hint of bitterness in his tone. “But it’s less about how he says things and more about what he’s saying. He makes these grand and ridiculous promises, claiming that he has the answers to any and all questions. He can make you rich, he can cure the sick, he can make apples grow in the snow. And of course, as soon as anyone asks him for proof he claims that their doubt is the reason he can’t provide any. ‘How can the garden be expected to produce fruit if you don’t believe it is real’ he’ll say. Absolute nonsense. Something is either real or it isn’t, realness does not depend on belief.”

Esther considered this, “I don’t know. I believe in the gods and heroes of the stories, but I’ve no evidence that they’re real or that their stories actually happened.”

Doran pointed his knife at Esther to punctuate his reply, a gesture that looked more threatening than it was intended, “yes but whether or not they’re real or happened does not depend on you believing them does it? You could believe or not believe and that wouldn’t change the realness of those stories. Besides I think most people understand that there’s probably a bit of truth in every story but that they change over time. Like a lighthouse disappearing into a fog. No matter how dense the cloud, the light is still there and that’s what’s important.” Esther nodded in understanding.

Then the two of them looked at Lilian, expecting her to add something to the conversation. But Lilian Lausanne was far away. She stared blankly into the fire, thinking a thousand thoughts, and none. Doran shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“Lilian, I was wondering, and I don’t mean to rush your recovery, not at all. But… people are asking about you and I was just wondering, if it’s no trouble, do you have some sort of plan. If you don’t that’s fine… I was just…” Doran trailed off. Lilian didn’t appear to have heard him. But that was not the case. The part of her that was still in that room did, but the rest of her was too busy to provide a reply.

Lilian was angry, but knew that anger would do no good. She was tired, but done with rest. And she was scared, but understood that her fear would help no one. And so she focused on her breathing, on that small part of her that was still under her control. She closed her eyes and heard Doran’s questions fade into the distance. Then her hearing changed and she could sense everything. The cracks and pops of the fire became crashes and explosions. The sound of Doran’s whittling knife was like the cracking and felling of a great tree. She heard the sounds outside too, feet crunching the snow in the distance, heartbeats starting to race as their associated bodies ingested their first taste of an evening mead. This was a sacred place: the night, the sounds, the gloaming. With it came the first prickling of pain in her wrist. Had she opened her eyes, she would see the old ink laced with lunar essence glowing in the forms of moon and mountain on her forearm. The prickling grew into a sharpness and then an intensity. Lilian clenched her jaw but still tried to focus on her breathing to help her push past the pain. She felt her hair begin to lift off her shoulders as the pain in her body was slowly replaced by power. Lilian opened her eyes.

Doran, Esther and Emma were staring at her in fear and wonder. They watched as Lilian’s skin became dark and her eyes went so pale blue that they shone like stars. Fritha stood up from her spot by the fire and was studying the scene with interest. Lilian stood up and stretched, enjoying the strength and quickness in her limbs. She put her full weight on her injured leg and smiled when she felt no pain. As she looked around the room, she saw it differently. The light of the fire was being pushed back, as if it was battling a smothering darkness. The shadows became dark doorways, the tables and chairs seemed as light and frivolous as the blocks that Emma was playing with. It had been a while since Lilian had returned to this form, and even though it felt incredible, it did still scare her somewhat. With that thought she closed her eyes again, breathed out a long breath and sat back down. She steadied herself and forced the gloaming back into her arm where she trapped it inside the moon and mountain. Then, filled with new energy and healed from her wounds, she opened her eyes.

The room was back to normal. The flames in the hearth jumped and leaped with their previous gusto and the shadows went back to being just darker parts of the room. Fritha came over to Lilian and licked her hand with a big purple tongue. It was Doran that broke the silence.

“Lilian… what… who…” it was strange for the storyteller to be at a loss for words. He didn’t like it. Lilian took her seat again and smiled her most calming smile.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. It’s not often I can do that so when I felt it happening I decided to go with it. It healed my leg and the rest of the bruises so I’ll be able to get out of your hair sooner Esther.” Emma had forgotten all about her bricks and was treading tentatively towards Lilian. She still looked a little scared but her curiosity was overpowering her fear.

“What was that?” Esther finally asked the question that Doran could not.

“I’m not sure what to call it yet,” Lilian replied. “It’s a combination of a powerful substance called Lunar essence, and a sort of magic which I call gloaming. It makes me strong and fast and well I’m not really sure of everything it can do.” Emma turned to her mother and began animatedly enacting some sort of fight. Each punch or dodge was bridged by a series of signs. Esther looked at Lilian.

“She’s saying now you can go back and fight the sisters and win.” Lilian shook her head.

“I’m not so sure,” Esther translated her words back to Emma as she explained. “Like I said, it doesn’t always work when I want it to and besides, I’m scared. That form is very powerful, if I use it and they still beat me then…” She trailed off, unable to finish the thought. Doran had regained his powers of speech and helped her.

“Then you’ll have nothing left.” He nodded in understanding, “probably best not to rely on it too much. One doesn’t open a game of cards with their best hand.” Lilian smiled at the analogy. As ever, Doran had hit the nail on the head.

“Besides,” she added, “it takes a bit of time to work and it’s very painful. So even though it makes me strong, it’s not always useful in a fight.” The room fell back into silence, save for the cracks and pops from the fire and the light tapping of palms and fingers from Esther and Emma’s signing. Emma looked dejected but only for a moment. She quickly turned back to Lilian and winked at her. It was clearly an attempt at being surreptitious but Lilian had to giggle at how open and obvious it was. She remembered Emma’s note that she still had in her frock pocket and turned her smile into a stern, reprimanding regard.

The two of them had passed several notes to each other during the last two days and Lilian had learned some basic signs with which to communicate simple ideas. The bulk of her communications had been focused on dissuading Emma from any attempt at spying on Sage Fenric, indeed, any attempt from going back there at all. But Emma was obstinate and Lilian’s pleas went unheaded and more often than not, completely ignored. Lilian had realised how irritating that trait was and promised to apologise to her mother and Mr Attorcop as soon as she could.

The rest of the evening went by uneventfully. They talked a little about what to do, but no conclusions were drawn. It was clear that Lilian needed more information before she could act again, or at the very least, more support from able fighters. Doran left the house eventually, giving Emma the little horse he’d been whittling before heading back out into the snow. Then it was Lilian’s turn. She hugged Esther tightly and thanked her for her help and hospitality. Then she coaxed Emma out from her bedroom where she had gone to sulk over Lilian’s departure, and she hugged her tightly. She felt the little girl’s arms squeeze her neck and was suddenly overcome with a warm and happy feeling. This immediately prompted a reaction of worry and fear and so Lilian pulled out of the hug, looked deep into Emma’s eyes then used her right hand to point at her own eyes and then form a fist while shaking her head. No spying, she’d said. Emma rolled her eyes and nodded in reply but Lilian had the sneaking suspicion that she had her fingers crossed behind her back.

And so Lilian left the Glade family house. The snow had only stopped falling for a few hours during the week meaning that the powder would come up to Lilian’s waist were she to jump straight into it. Thankfully, a few charitable citizens had gone through the streets of Benlunar with ploughs and shovels so Lilian’s journey home was relatively unencumbered. Fritha busied herself with sniffing at the snow drifts, tracking the other pets and wildlife that had marked their passage through the snow covered town.

By the time Lilian arrived back at her childhood home it was quite late and her woollen leggings and thick jacket were barely able to keep out the cold. She hadn’t expected anyone to be up and so was surprised to see a faint light coming from the kitchen window. She opened the back door and found her father sitting alone at the kitchen table. There was a brown bottle in front of him, half drunk, with most of its contents apparently still hanging on to her father’s beard. He looked dazed and confused and barely seemed to register Fritha licking his hand when she came into the kitchen. Lilian tried catching his attention.

“Dad?” he looked up and stared at her as if she was a stranger, “Are you alright?” she asked, becoming concerned. Edward Lausanne went back to looking at his bottle, as if trying to find the answer to that question inside one of its many bubbles.

“She’s gone,” he said solemnly.

Lilian knew he must be talking about her mother, and her heart began to beat quicker. “Gone where?” she asked. Lilian knew and dreaded the reply, but she had to hear it all the same.

Her father spoke the two words and confirmed her worst fears, “The grove,” he said and took another long drink.

The next morning Lilian woke up with a head full of questions. Why was her mother camping out at the grove in the dead of winter? What was she going to do about Sage Fenric? Would anyone believe her about what the sisters had done? All of these and more swam around her mind like restless goldfish while she ate her breakfast. Her father had gone to work early and so she was left to her oats and thoughts with no one but Fritha for company. Not that Fritha was bad company.

Once breakfast was finished, Lilian resolved to pay the grove another visit. If she was being honest with herself she would have rather avoided it, but she needed to see what difference her week of rest had made. She did not want to be seen however, she did not want to give Sage Fenric or the sisters the satisfaction. So she found a quiet spot on the way to the grove, ducked behind a tree with Fritha and leant down beside the feinhound. She closed her eyes and put her hands lightly on Fritha’s fur. Within seconds she was sending out her little lights and then bringing them back into her heart once they had absorbed Fritha’s invisible essence. The hairs she touched were still attached and full of life and so she did not need much of their light at all. When she opened her eyes a moment later, Fritha was invisible and so was she.

They made their way to the grove, padding slowly through the snow and trying their best to tread on ice where they could so that they left no footprints. Lilian had remembered to put on her hobnail boots, relying on the sharp tacks on the soles to keep a sure footing. They were getting a little tight these days, but they would do for now.

Ten minutes later they were approaching the grove. Lilian had decided to come at it from the forest again rather than the road. The trees would obscure her footprints and she wouldn’t have to worry about bumping into anyone.

In the short time she had been recovering, the grove had changed completely. The snow that covered the rest of the mountain, was all but gone. Only a few traces of frozen whiteness in some of the tree branches showed that it had ever snowed here at all. The rest of the ground, which had been previously covered in crisp, white powder, was now brown trodden, sodden earth. Canvas tents were dotted around the place, their once vibrant colours leached away by the rising damp and mud that crawled up the sides. There were old smoking fire pits, stone circled campgrounds and shoddily constructed decks and racks. Lilian saw a few people milling around and emerging from their shelters. Despite their conditions they seemed happy, smiling and greeting each other and exchanging excited pleasantries. Overseeing all of this were the caravans of Sage Fenric and his sister assistants. They seemed miraculously untouched by the surrounding dirt, as if the earth itself were allergic to them. Lilian felt a deep sadness at the sight of it all. This once vibrant and colourful place had now been leeched of life and beauty. Lilian heard no birds, saw no fruit clinging to the dark barked trees. Not even the soulless snow survived.

Lilian watched the grove for a short time trying to spot her mother among the acolytes. At one point, she saw Tourmaline emerge from her caravan and felt a pang of anger flare up in her chest. That was another thing she’d have to learn to deal with. This wasn’t like fighting Empress Sylvia or Nicholas Telson, this anger came from all of this situation being, quite literally, too close to home.

Once most people had come out and eaten something Sage Fenric emerged from his caravan. This alone was enough to enrage Lilian, but what made it worse was that a few seconds later she saw little Emma come out of there as well. She had disobeyed Lilian and gone back to spy on the Sage and his team. Lilian would be having stern words with her later. It did surprise her though. Emma milled about the place as if she had been born there and had every right to come and go as she pleased. She went from caravan to tent, to camp fire, taking food and pushing people out of her way as she explored. It struck Lilian that she did in fact make for a good spy. People’s inability to communicate with her meant that they largely just left her to her own business. As a result, she could explore unhindered, free to pick things up, eat things she liked the look of and walk in and out of the caravans like she was a cat exploring new surroundings. Even Lilian found herself ignoring her in favour of watching and listening to Sage Fenric.

The sage was dressed in his usual yellow cloak. The hood was down, revealing his pale face and bright, green eyes. Lilian saw through those kind features now, through to the black heart within. It was so obvious that she was surprised at how many people were still fooled by his falseness.

Sage Fenric climbed up to the little platform that Lilian had knocked him off a week ago. He smiled at a few individuals and bade everyone come closer with a motion of his arms. Lilian felt her blood boil but was suddenly distracted from her hatred by the sight of her mother. She was walking out from behind the sister’s caravan, having come from the other side of the grove. She was not alone. Bent low and listening with her arm linked was Hematite. The very same sister who had hurled bottled explosions and various dangerous concoctions at her during their fight. They seemed to be deep in conversation. Doubtless Hematite was pouring poison into her mother’s ear. The two women looked up as their quiet conversation was interrupted by Sage Fenric addressing the crowd.

“Friends! Good morning. I hope you all slept well out here in the cold. I dare say that those who forced us out here did not count on your incredible resilience. Truly you are, each of you, an inspiration to me. Like I said the other day, it is those who sacrifice the most who stand to gain the most. I urge you to truly feel the cold, so that you can appreciate the warmth of the fire. Sleep on the earth so that you may truly appreciate comfort. Eat what the land provides without garnish or spice so that you can be closer to the essence of real nourishment. You’ve all given so much already. I would think you were all but guaranteed entry to the garden and all the gifts that lie within it. But think, my friends. Take this moment now, in the light of dawn, to meditate on giving. I know I speak about it often, but there really is no better, faster or purer way to gain entry to the garden.” By this point, everyone in the grove was gathered close to Sage Fenric. Lilian lost count after forty people. The Sage lowered the volume of his voice and shifted his position slightly, as if the words he was saying were having a physical and emotional impact on him. “I met a man once, a hermit, who had given up all worldly possessions. He drank from streams, lived in a cave and was so committed to a life of sacrifice that he even avoided wearing furs during winter. I learned much from this man. And after speaking with him for some time, I decided I should live with him. One night I asked him whether all his giving was worth the cost. He smiled and confided in me that it was. He told me that it was through living such a life that he could visit the garden any time he wished. If he felt cold, he would simply close his eyes and feel the warmth of the garden on his skin. If he was hungry the garden would provide lush and sumptuous fruit. I asked him if he was ever sad or displeased and he shook his head. ‘How could I be?’ he said, ‘when the garden provides me with everything I need?’ It was this moment I decided to dedicate my life to this worldly heaven and to teach others about its goodness. My friends, you are all so close, but take today to think, to really think whether you still have something to give. Perhaps a piece of gaudy and useless jewellery that serves no purpose save to collect dust beneath a bed? A decadent coat or cloak? Silverware that is never used? All these and more are items that tether you to this world and can easily be sacrificed. You are free to bring them here and the sisters and I will dispose of them. Perhaps you’ve given everything already, in which case, the reason you have not visited the garden may be because you are not giving more of your own time to its pursuit? I like to think of it this way: the more you give, the more you get. The true magic begins when we give more than we can afford to. Think, my friends, think and ask each other. And together, we will visit the garden soon.”

Sage Fenric then made to leave but caught himself before descending the platform fully.

“Ah yes! Before I forget. I spoke about your incredible devotion and how your spirit of sacrifice has truly moved me. It has reminded me that even I can do better. Therefore, I wanted to tell you that you may not see me here for the next few days.” A murmur of concern spread through the crowd. Lilian furrowed her brow, what was he up to now? Sage Fenric smiled and chuckled as he replied, “fear not! Fear not friends. I am simply going on my own journey of giving. I shall venture up there.” Sage Fenric then turned and gestured to the Benlunar peak. “I plan on staying up there and living as my friend the hermit did all those years ago. I know that if I do this, I shall return with more keys, more knowledge and more strength to help us all. I leave this evening.”

This news seemed to confuse and upset several people in the grove. One man even shouted, “Will you need a companion? Perhaps someone to help you carry your things?”

Sage Fenric smiled at the man, “No thank you Timon, you have all followed me so far already, I could not ask you to follow me further. Fear not, friends, I shall return. And we shall all be better for it.” And with that he descended from the platform and began speaking to an older woman who was standing nearby. The rest of the group went back to their business. Lilian watched for a while longer. She saw a group of them set out back to town, presumably to fetch more of their belongings to give to Sage Fenric. Lilian sighed and turned to leave.

As she turned, she saw a sight that made her freeze in fear. Ten steps behind her, silent as the snow, was the largest wolf she had ever seen. It stood two heads taller than the tallest dog in town. It must have weighed just slightly more than Fritha, although the feinhound might just about match its length and height. It stared at Lilian with cold blue eyes. It was not growling or angry, but stood and stared with an intensity that made Lilian shiver. She knew there were wolves in these hills, she’d even seen a few skirting the edges of forests. But never one so close and never one so big. Lilian quickly glanced down at her hands to check that she was still invisible. Thankfully, no hands appeared in front of her and she sighed a small sigh of relief. Her fear returned however, when she noticed the wolf’s nose twitching wildly in the air. This animal had no need for a sense so rudimentary as sight. Lilian stayed very still, not wanting to crush a leaf with a careless step. Wolves were known to become more desperate in the winter, but there was something about this one that struck Lilian as strange. And it wasn’t just its size. It was alone. Lilian’s eyes darted about but saw no sign of a pack. All Benlunar children knew to avoid the group, even if it meant heading towards a lone wolf.

Lilian was about to try and move, when the wolf stirred. It started towards her and Lilian shifted her feet, readying for a fight. But the wolf padded past her with its head ducked down, keeping its nose close to the ground. As soon as it broke the treeline Lilian had to stop herself from running after it. She didn’t know what her plan was, perhaps she would try and scare it away or grab a rock and hit it over the head. She even found herself taking two or three steps out of the forest and into the grove in an effort to protect the unsuspecting townsfolk. Lilian found it hard to move, the strangeness of the scene was overwhelming. No wolf ever came this close to Benlunar. And that was when she realised. She was not looking at a wolf.

Her hunch was confirmed when moments after the first few townsfolk gasped and stepped back in fear of the giant hound, Sage Fenric appeared before it. He had gotten there quite quickly, thought Lilian, almost as if he was expecting the visit. From then on, Lilian watched the scene unfold like a boring play. She watched the wolf growl and bark and make a show of scaring the people. She observed Sage Fenric heroically step forward with his arms raised in a calming gesture. She heard him shout to the others to not be afraid as he approached the wild and terrifying beast. Lilian almost rolled her eyes when Sage Fenric held out a single hand and walked towards the wolf seemingly without fear, his eyes closed in religious reverence. It was like he was offering himself to be eaten. The “wolf” did a little more huffing and growling before sniffing at Sage Fenric’s cloak, licking his hand (which Lilian found a bit over the top) and then scurrying away, over the lip of the grove and down the slope to Lilian’s left. Then, much like an actual performance, Sage Fenric turned to meet a round of applause from the onlookers. Lilian almost expected him to bow but he just pontificated some more about the benefits of sacrifice. Lilian could stomach no more of it. And so she turned on her heel and exited the grove.

Half an hour later Lilian was sitting in the back room of the Stave Church, pacing back and forth and venting her frustrations to Brother Thomas,

“It’s just so obvious!” she shouted, “All the cloying, self righteous performance of it all. How is it that none of them see through him??”

Brother Thomas was staring into the wet leaves of an empty tea cup while Fritha sat near the fire. “Well, I should think people see what they wish to see. We enjoy our previously held beliefs to be confirmed. So if one wants to believe that this world holds secrets and wonders beyond our understanding then that person will tend to seek out evidence that that is the case. Even when they witness something that evidently contradicts those beliefs, the mind will twist the evidence into lies.”

The church cat had slunk into the room by that point and was making its way to investigate a very surprised looking Fritha. “That’s… that’s…” Lilian was having difficulty finding her words, “that’s insane!” she exclaimed and she slumped into the armchair opposite the Church Brother.

“Not insane,” said Brother Thomas, calmly, “merely… human.”

Lilian huffed. “Humans are insane.” Brother Thomas chuckled. The cat rubbed its head against Fritha’s cheek, causing the feinhound to give Lilian a look of such astonishment that she couldn’t help but laugh as well.

“You seem very calm about all of this, Brother Thomas.” Lilian hadn’t meant for her tone to be so accusatory, but her friend’s lack of concern did bother her somewhat.

“On the contrary,” Brother Thomas protested, “Do not let my demeanour fool you. I am suffering from sleepless nights and restless days. It’s all I can think about. But what can I do? I will not force anyone to go against their will. They have been given all the same information as us and they have chosen not to believe it. It is… out of my control.” Brother Thomas threw up his hands and let them fall to his lap with a surrendering slap.

Just then, there was a knock at the door. Everyone, including the animals, tensed up at the sound. Whoever was there did not wait for a signal to enter, and Lilian quickly understood why. The door opened to reveal brown curls and a little lavender dress. Emma poked her head inside and when she saw Lilian her eyes lit up in delight, as if she’d been searching for some time. She rushed into the room and waved to Brother Thomas, who waved back with a smile. Lilian, however, greeted her with a scowl. She pulled curled, outstretched fingers across her face and pointed at Emma. Angry with you. Emma looked sheepish for a moment, guessing the reason for Lilian’s ire. She began to sign but her gestures were too fast and unfamiliar so Lilian reached for a piece of parchment and a quill and handed them to the little girl. Emma plonked herself down and began to write. It took her some time, she was only young after all, but eventually she handed her note back to Lilian for her to read the wobbly message.

Sorry I spied. But it's fine. I found a secret. The yellow man, Fenric. He’s going away.

Lilian took the quill, dipped it quickly in the inkwell on the table next to her and penned a reply.

I know. He’s going up the mountain.

She showed this to Emma who read it and looked back at her with a confused expression. The little girl shook her head in protest. Then she snatched the quill and used the remaining ink to say:

No. I saw maps. He’s not going up the mountain. He’s going far away.