Episode 55

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

“Lilian, what are you doing?” Lilian looked at her mother. Her face was a picture of sadness and confusion. Lilian had never seen her look this way before and her heart cracked at the sight of it. Her grip on Sage Fenric’s yellow cloak relaxed and her right elbow dropped slightly from its poised to punch position.

“Lilian?” Her mother repeated her name. Lilian felt a familiar kind of temper enter her body.

“Mum, it’s fine. I’m dealing with it.” Polly Lausanne stepped forward, the crowd parted to let her through.

“Dealing with what exactly?”

“Mum,” Lilian raised her voice, “We can discuss this at home.” A flash of that feeling hit her again. There was only one or two people who could make her feel like this, this foot stomping, huffing and puffing anger. The anger of a child.

“Let go of him right now and get down from there.” Lilian tensed her grip again, her body acted automatically in opposition to her mother’s wishes.

“You don’t understand. He’s dangerous and he needs to leave Benlunar. I’m making sure he listens.” She directed this last comment to Sage Fenric. His face portrayed an intense calmness, like he was somewhere else, just watching the events in front of him unfold. His eyes darted quickly back to Lilian’s mum, to check her reaction.

“And what has he supposed to have done that is so dangerous?” she demanded. Lilian clenched her teeth.

“It’s not about what he has done, it’s about what he will do.” Lilian’s temper was transforming into a rage. She could feel her nails digging into her palm.

“And is that the kind of person you are Roux? Someone who judges others for things they haven’t even done?”

Even though Lilian could still feel her heart beating out of her chest, she felt her grip begin to relax again. Her mother’s words rang around inside her head. She saw the scene through her eyes, through the eyes of the gathering crowd and she realised how mad she must look. She let Sage Fenric go and turned to leave. Before jumping off the platform though, she turned back to Sage Fenric. She spoke to him in a hushed tone.

“My warning still stands.” Sage Fenric’s neutral expression shifted. The corners of his mouth curled into a smile. To an outside observer, it was a kind and understanding expression. But Lilian saw straight through it to the dark heart that it was hiding. He then said six perfectly placed words. The exact words Lilian needed to hear for all that rage and wrath to come flooding back all at once.

“You should listen to your mother.” And then Lilian punched him so hard that he was knocked off the platform.

The argument that ensued back at Lilian’s house was one for the stories. Voices were raised, tempers were lost and insults were hurled like sharp little rocks. Lilian tried to explain over and over about the village that Doran had described, about how she feared for the future of her home and about her suspicions concerning Sage Fenric and his weird sisters. Lilian’s mother countered each of these with her own arguments. About how she had not seen any evidence of wrongdoing, about how she had raised Lilian better than someone who used violence to solve their problems, about how she barely recognised the daughter standing in front of her. Both of them kept turning to Lilian’s father for support and they got even angrier when he supported neither of them. Finally Polly Lausanne’s anger gave way to tears. Lilian hated seeing her mother cry and what was even worse was that she was the cause of it.

“You don’t understand,” said her mother through a tight throat and a snotty nose, “the first day that Sage Fenric spoke at the Stave, he asked us to wish for something. Something real he said, and he promised us that it would come true. I wished for you to come back to Benlunar. And the very next day…”

“But Mum…” Lilian interrupted her but her mother’s hand shot up to stop her speaking.

“I know what you’re going to say,” she said, “I know you’re going to say that you would have come back anyway and I know that, I’m not stupid. But that doesn’t mean he wasn’t right. And if he was right about that, just think what else he might be right about.” Lilian rolled her eyes.

“What, you mean this garden nonsense?”

“You see,” said her mother, “why do you say it like that? Like you know everything, like you know better. Now, alright, I’ll admit I don’t know what this garden thing is either, but I’m open to learn about the world we live in. Isn’t that why you went with Mr Attorcop in the first place? To learn about incredible things? Why are you allowed to do that and I’m not?” Lilian bit her lip. She’d said all she could. She’d reasoned all she could. Her mother wasn’t listening and that was causing the divide between them to widen more and more by the second. What’s more is that her last point made sense. There were things to learn, it was just that Lilian didn’t trust this particular teacher. Lilian sighed. She knew she needed to apologise but she also knew that if she did then she would be the one in the wrong and she would potentially have to sit back and watch Benlunar get twisted by this horrible man. She needed to think.

“I’m… I’m going out for a walk.” Her mother wiped away a tear.

“I’ll put dinner on for when you’re back.” Then Lilian hugged her mother tightly and spoke softly into her ear.

“Just promise you’ll be careful alright?” She could feel her mother’s body shake with a little laugh.

“That’s what I’m supposed to say!” They smiled at each other and although not everything was forgiven, it was at least better understood.

“Take a cloak,” her father spoke up for the first time since they’d arrived back, “the nights are getting cold.” Lilian smiled at him and nodded. She grabbed an old green travelling cloak from the pegs by the door and whistled for Fritha to join her. She turned to look at her parents before she left. She opened her mouth to say something, but all the words had already been said.

The evening was clear but Lilian’s mind was mired in fog. She walked briskly, taking deep, chilly breaths. Her father was right. The air was getting colder every day and the snow would soon be upon them. She hoped Sage Fenric didn’t use that as another excuse to stick around. A gust of wind passed overhead, sending a flurry of yellowing leaves down and around her. Fritha snapped at them, trying to catch one in her mouth. Lilian normally found this hilarious, but her eyes were fixed forwards and her feet marched on: relentless. A hollow, sick feeling began to form in her stomach. It came with a sense of dread that not only would Sage Fenric not be gone by morning, but that her actions earlier that day had only served to help his cause. She became angry at herself for letting herself become angry.

And then she stopped. She’d been walking without purpose or direction and as usual whenever that happened in Benlunar she found herself staring up at an old, familiar sight. A giant stone toad with a peaceful expression on its wide, rocky face. Behind that, the mountain peak, still sprinkled with white from last year's snow fall. The sound of gurgling water came from the ground around her and Lilian smiled and breathed out. She felt her shoulders relax, her fingers uncurl and the tension at the base of her skull, which she had not even been aware existed, ease. Her whole body lightened and with that came tears. Lilian was surprised by their arrival but they were not unwelcome. She’d been growing ever more concerned for her home and coupled with the memory of Kilde and all that she’d left behind, well, it all became quite overwhelming. After a few sorrowful moments, she looked up at the Padda Stone and spoke.

“I’m scared, Gorakja. I’m back home and I thought I’d be happy but I’m terrified. This isn’t like Freedos. I don’t think I’m going to be able to punch my way out of this one.” She looked down at Fritha. The feinhound was lapping at the edge of the great pond. The cold mountain water was causing her coat to shift into icy blue waves that rippled over her body. Lilian smiled. She felt alone but she had to remind herself that she was anything but. She had Fritha, she had Brother Thomas and even though they weren’t seeing eye to eye right now, she had her parents as well. Then, as if on cue, she heard a noise coming from behind her. It sounded like someone stepping on a twig. Lilian whipped around, drying her eyes as she moved. She wondered why Fritha hadn’t alerted her of the person’s approach, but when she turned, she saw why. The person approaching was a friend.

“Apologies, I didn’t mean to startle you,” said Doran. Even though it was quite dark, Lilian could see that he was red in the face. Large clouds of vapour rose into the air with every exhalation. He paused to catch his breath before explaining himself, “I saw you walking through town like a demon was at your back so… I thought I’d check in.” He walked over to a group of large rocks and sat down on the largest one. “You seem troubled, Lilian.”

Lilian, snorted, “That’s one way of putting it.” She turned back to look at the statue.

Doran got out a handkerchief and wiped the sweat that had gathered on his forehead. “I heard about what happened at the paddock.” Lilian felt her cheeks redden. “For what it’s worth, I think you did the right thing.”

Lilian attempted a smile but her shame prevented it from becoming anything more than a sheepish grin. “You must be the only one in town who thinks so.”

Doran shook his head. “You’ve more supporters than you think, but… yes I should say most people were rather shocked.” He began to chuckle and Lilian couldn’t help but join him. His laugh was deep and infectious and Lilian felt herself begin to cheer up at the sound of it. Suddenly, it stopped.

“By the stories…” said Doran, clutching his handkerchief to his chest. Lilian followed his gaze to the Padda Stone, in his haste to sit down, Doran had not noticed it until now. His eyes widened in delight. “Is that…?” He stood up and came to stand beside Lilian.

“That,” replied Lilian, “is the Padda Stone. It’s very special to Benlunar. Some say…” she was about to launch into the legend and supposed history of the stone and its relationship to the town, but Doran cut her off.

“It’s one of the Dwaemor…” his breath was coming out in short, shaky puffs now and Lilian saw the corners of his handkerchief shaking as his knuckles began to whiten as he tightened his grip on it.

Lilian’s face scrunched up in confusion, “One of what?”

Doran looked at her as if she had spouted some odd song in a different language. “The Dwaemor,” he repeated, “surely you must know the rhyme?” They looked at each other for a moment, each one assuming the other had gone completely mad. Finally, Doran broke the silence. He lowered his voice and began to recite in a slow and respectful tone:

“Twelve Hells and seven heavens,

seven Dwaemor for eleven weapons.

A force of nature, an army of light

Joined together by darkness to fight

One world with many fates

The champions stand to keep it safe.”

There was a silence, punctured by the dusk chorus of croaking frogs. Doran looked at Lilian, hoping to find recognition in her eyes, but she just stared back at him blankly.

“I’ve never heard that one before,” she said, turning back to the Padda Stone, “it’s quite… ominous.”

Doran chuckled, “Aye, it is that. I’m surprised you don’t know it seeing as you grew up near a Dwaemor. It’s one of our oldest stories. Basically there are several of these stone creatures, scattered around the world. I’ve seen four of them and… well, now I’ve seen five.” Doran beamed with pride.

“That’s impressive,” she said, “I’ve only seen two. This one, and a bird.” Doran’s head whipped round to look at her.

“A bird you say?” he asked, “Goodness me. I’ve not seen a bird. I should like to one day though.”

Lilian thought about this for a second before responding. “I’m sorry,” she said, “I can’t tell you where it is. I swore an oath that I wouldn’t tell anyone.”

Doran didn’t seem upset at all by this. “Oh don’t you worry Lilian,” he said, chuckling once more, “after all, the joy is in the hunt, not the finding. You’ve already led me to one I never thought I’d find, so I’d say you’ve done more than enough. I shan’t ask you to betray your word.” They went back to silently staring at the statue. “He is very impressive.”

Lilian smiled and nodded, “He is. But I don’t think he’ll be much help when it comes to dealing with Sage Fenric.” Lilian didn’t know if Doran was aware of The Padda Stone’s true nature, he certainly didn’t mention it. Even if he did, she did not know when Gorakja would return or how a giant talking toad might be able to help her. Like it or not, this was her task alone.

Just then, a thought struck her. She turned to Doran and asked, “who is our?” Doran pulled his eyes away from The Padda Stone to look at Lilian, confused. “When you said the poem, you said it was one of ‘our’ oldest stories. Who is ‘our’? Where are you from Doran?” Although they had spent some time together by now, Lilian realised that she still knew very little about the traveller. Doran smiled and turned back to the stone.

“I’m a traveller, Lilian. I’m from nowhere and everywhere. Alicium is my home and she provides me with everything I need. I suppose if I had to narrow it down I would say I grew up across the grassland planes, far south of here. But my travels have taken me all over the world, even as far as Doma, although even one as silver tongued as myself has never set foot inside its walls. When I say ‘our’ I mean my people. Travellers have a way of recognising each other and we always share stories when we meet. A good story can save your life, you know?”

Doran’s words suddenly triggered a memory in Lilian’s head, “Are you part of the Laguina people?”

Doran looked taken aback, “How do you know of the Laguina folk?”

Lilian shrugged, “Something a friend of mine told me once. He said they believe in the power of names.”

Doran smiled broadly and nodded, “Aye, that they do. Some say it was the Laguina that gave us the names of all things. The nomads descended from those before there were towns, travellers from before there were roads, namers from before there were names. I’m not Laguina, but I’ve met a few of them and they’ve helped me several times. Talk about stories. The Laguina tell some of the greatest stories I’ve ever heard. Many of them ended up in your Stave’s book, although the Laguina would never write them down. They believe that stories are alive, and like all living things, they change as they grow old.” Doran looked over at Lilian and studied her for a moment. He remembered their first meeting and how he was convinced she was a spirit of some kind. “I get the feeling,” he said, looking at her crossed arms and stern expression, “that you’ve some stories of your own.”

Lilian smiled. “A few. Most end quite happily…” she trailed off.

Doran, picked up the trail, “but you’re worried about this one, aren’t ye?”

Lilian breathed out a long sigh. Then she stepped forwards a few paces so that she was closer to the water and closer to the Padda Stone. She widened her stance, clenched her fists raised her voice. Doran fell silent, watching her talk to the mountain.

“This town,” she said, “is under my watch. By the light of the moon and the strength of the mountain I swear it. I will not let it fall into ruin.” Then she turned back to Doran with a smile and new energy. “Thank you Doran, for telling me about Sage Fenric.”

Doran was taken aback. “Of…Of course Lilian. I say ‘tis a good oath you made. I’ve been here only a few hours but I sense Benlunar is a special place. As far as I can help you, I swear I will.”

“Do you swear on the mountain?” Lilian giggled.

“Aye!” exclaimed Doran, “and on the stars that guide, the rivers that wind and the ties that bind.” At that moment, Fritha tipped her head to the moon and joined in the oaths with a tolling howl. Lilian and Doran laughed and looked skyward. And then, as if answering their calls, the first flakes of snow began to fall around them. Lilian felt them fall softly onto her cheeks. Winter was upon them and with it the work began.

The next morning, Lilian got up early with Fritha and marched back to the paddock. She had been serious in her threats to Sage Fenric but she had also had time to calm down and think things through. Violence might not be the best way to handle the situation and so she would have to approach the problem a little differently, from a more diplomatic perspective. This required a lot of ground work and that all started with paying the Sage and his cohorts another visit.

In order to get straight to the paddock from Lilian’s childhood home, you would need to climb a particularly steep rock face and then make your way up a series of slippery stone steps. With Benlunar now being covered in a thick layer of snow, this path was less than desirable. And so Lilian and Fritha took the road into town and then took the side streets east until they hit the dirt path that led round the mountain to the paddock. By the time Lilian reached the closely packed houses in this part of Benlunar she was enjoying listening to the crunch of the snow underfoot and the slight hiss in the air that the snow produced as it hit the floor. It was still early and so the streets were relatively quiet so she was surprised to see another person walking towards her. Lilian looked down at Fritha quickly to make sure she was disguised, luckily, she had her shaggy dog coat on. This would avoid any unwanted questions and probably helped with the cold as well.

The person approaching was a woman that Lilian did not recognise. This was not so strange, Benlunar was a small town but not so small that everyone knew everyone by sight. Lilian might have walked straight past her and paid her no mind, except for the fact that this woman was clearly not dressed for the weather. Lilian wore a big coat, thick woollen tights, fox fur gloves and fur lined boots. Most of her old clothes still fit, although the coat sleeves came up to her elbow when she stretched her arm out. The approaching woman had none of these. She wore leather workman’s trousers and a white cotton shirt. Granted the shirt had long sleeves, but it could not be expected to keep her warm. The main thing that drew Lilian’s attention however, was the look of anguish on the woman’s face. Her eyes darted about, glancing down every street and alley she passed. She looked as though she’d been out half the night. Lilian hailed her as she approached.

“Are you alright mrs?” The woman’s wild eyes landed on Lilian and studied her and Fritha for a moment before answering.

“I… yes. I’m just looking for someone. You haven’t seen a little girl, have you? Curly brown hair. She… she can’t talk.” The description caused instant recognition in Lilian’s mind.

“Does she have a lavender dress?” The woman’s eyes widened with hope. She took a few steps closer, raising her feet high to get them over the snow.

“She does! Yes. She’s my Emma. Please, where is she??” Lilian could hear the desperation in her voice. She was glancing past Lilian as if her daughter might appear just behind her. Lilian approached her slowly and spoke in her most soothing voice.

“I saw her yesterday morning. She was down in the paddock talking with the sage.”

This produced a look of confusion on the woman’s face, “The sage?” she said. “Who, that strange man who spoke at the Stave? What was she doing there?”

“I think she was just curious. He gave her a toy and then she ran back to town.” Lilian could tell that a hundred thoughts were racing through this woman’s mind.

“So that’s where she got it…” she said in recognition. “Funny man. He’s the funny man.” In a flash, she turned around and started making her way back from where she’d come. Lilian ran to catch up with her.

“Wait, you must be freezing. Here, look. I’m actually headed to the paddock now. Why don’t I see if she’s there and if she is I’ll send her home. She might already be back and waiting for you. You head home and check, I’ll come by later.” The woman looked at her with tired eyes. She seemed as though her mind wanted to run to the paddock but her body was begging her for warmth. She looked down at her hands. Lilian saw that her fingertips were bright red. They’d be going numb soon if she didn’t warm them up. Slowly, she nodded.

“Yes, I’ll go home and… and see if she's there. We live near the timber yard, just west…”

“Of Jacob’s, I know the place.” Lilian finished her sentence for her. “I’ll see you there soon.”

The woman made to leave, but turned back before she’d gone much distance.

“My name is Esther. And if you see Emma, do this:” she then held her hands up, her two forefingers outstretched and drew a square in the air with them, starting from the top and meeting back at the bottom. “It means home.”

Lilian nodded, “I’m Lilian, and of course. Thank you.” And so both women turned around and trudged onward through the snow drift.

Lilian reached the paddock within half an hour. The snow was still powdery and Lilian slipped several times on the path down to the clearing. When the paddock came into view Lilian couldn’t help but admire the beauty of the place again. The snow covered the floor like thick velvet and the trees were beginning to form fuzzy white hats. Even the caravans looked pretty, although Lilian was loath to admit it.

It was still early and so no one from the town had come to listen to Sage Fenric speak just yet. Lilian was grateful for the quiet. She wished to speak Frankly with the so-called Sage. She marched across the snow, doing her best to appear intimidating. She looked up to see a large black bird fly overhead and squawk a few times. It landed somewhere beyond the caravans and Lilian quickly lost sight of it. The noise seemed to alert the residents of the caravan as soon after Lilian saw Sage Fenric emerge from his wooden, road-ready residence. Fritha growled a low jangling sound as she padded alongside Lilian.

Before Lilian was too close, Sage Fenric began to speak, shouting slightly to cover the ground between them,

“If you’ve come to blacken my other eye then I should warn you, your mayor has agreed to imprison you, if I should feel as if I’m in further danger. You needn’t worry though. I put the whole thing down to a lost temper.”

Lilian continued to trudge on, not heading his warning and closing the gap between them further. “I suppose you’ll be wanting my thanks.”

Sage Fenric shrugged, “I’d prefer an apology, but thanks will suffice.” At that moment the three women, the sisters, came out. Two from their own dwelling and one from round the other side of Sage Fenric’s caravan. Unlike Sage Fenric, they were not wearing their robes. The tallest sported battle leathers, the middle wore a tunic with an array of belts and pouches strung around her waist and shoulders. In them were various vials and bottles, each containing strange coloured liquids. The youngest wore just a dark cotton shirt and dark trousers. All looked as though they were ready to kill. Lilian instinctively felt her feet shift into the first defensive Atarapian stance.

“Well you’ll get neither,” she said, “I notice you have not heeded my warning and you insist on staying in Benlunar.”

Sage Fenric opened his arms out wide, “the only person who seems to object strongly to our being here is you my darling. Perhaps your ire would be eased if you left instead, or at the very least, left us alone.”

Lilian shook her head. “Again, neither of those things are going to happen. But this is what I will say…”

Sage Fenric held up a finger to interrupt her, “Before you say anything Miss Lausanne, I suggest you bear your audience in mind…” Just then, he glanced over at the tallest sister. Lilian followed his gaze.

There, a shy figure stepped out into the open from behind the woman. Lilian saw little brown ringlets and a lavender dress. It held a doll in its hands and was distracted by playing with its mop of hair. The girl, Emma, looked up and saw Lilian but was unsure as to what to do so she went back to playing with the doll. What she did not see was the curved blade that the tallest sister brought out slowly from behind her back. She kept it by her side, level with the little girl’s throat. Lilian looked back at Sage Fenric.

“As I was saying, be careful what you threaten Miss Lausanne. You wouldn’t want anyone getting hurt…”