"The Twisted Path: Chapter 12" by Melissa ´TigerCat´ Jones

"There is no estimating the wit and wisdom
concealed and latent in our lower fellow mortals
until made manifest by profound experiences;
for it is through suffering that dogs as well as saints
are developed and made perfect."

-John Muir (1838-1914)

Chapter 12: Visions of the Past

We, or rather Rhys, purchased a number of herbs from the apothecary above the breakers. I wandered around the little shop for more than an hour, sorting herbs, reading labels, asking questions. The seller was knowledgeable and eager to pass on her expertise, and the older woman even had a book on the subject. It was a heavy tome bound in leather and hand-penned in a strong, fluid script. Little drawings had been done next to most entries, showing the plant described in intricate detail. The illustrations were even colored with muted greens, bold reds and soft yellows. I was in awe and greatly desired to possess the pharmacopoeia. However, the price the seller asked was beyond my means and I would not ask Rhys to part with that amount of coin.

We left the apothecary with my belt-pouches nearly full and Rhys" coin-purse lighter. I offered to repay him, knowing I had a share of the haul that had come from the ruins, but he refused by telling me to keep my coin for another time. We started back to the aip Vossins' cottages, moving away from the bustling crowds of the city. When we were alone and surrounded by nothing but wind and trees and salt-grass, Rhys remembered what I had told him about my ears.

"Is your hearing better?" he asked.

He really wanted to know whether it was the same as it always had been. I considered my reply. "It has improved," I answered truthfully.

"Do you remember that trick you showed me in Three Rib Cove? I"d like to try it again, if that"s fine with you. Just to check."

"It is not a trick," I sighed, barely refraining from rolling my eyes, "but fine."

Rhys walked ahead, moving farther and farther away, speaking in a normal tone each time he stopped. I heard him easily to a point, but when he reached a certain point - one that had been softly audible in the Cove - I had to shake my head. Rhys swiftly returned to my side. My stomach felt heavy and my throat grew bitter. I felt betrayed by my own body, the one thing I thought was steadfast. I had known my hearing was not as good as it once was, but I had been convinced it was healing. Proving this failure to Rhys stung like claws in my flesh.

"Don"t worry," Rhys said, touching my shoulder lightly. "It might just take some more time. You still heard me from a great distance, you know. No one else would be able to do that."

"Yes," I said, smiling emptily. Rhys looked into my eyes and must have seen the bleakness there, for in an instant his arms were around me. I stood there, feeling the strength of his arms and the breadth of his chest against me. My spine was stiff, still unused to this invasion of my personal space, but I willed myself to relax and slowly rested my forehead on his shoulder, feeling the warmth of him. I was learning to enjoy physical contact, once so foreign and hostile to me. It was a strange and wondrous feeling.

After some moments, Rhys removed himself and cupped my face in his hands. I shivered, not unpleasantly, as he smoothed my hair back from my face with his fingers. "Everything will be fine," he said, meaning it. "Now, shall we go see how Sidh fares?"

"Yes," I answered, feeling giddy and weightless and stupid.

Sidh fared the same. There had not been any changes since we left him, not that I had expected any. Wren wanted me to examine her arm to see how it was healing, and I did. The break was set well and there were no hints of infection. I changed the dressing and splints on her arm after washing the skin with an infusion of arnica and agrimony that would help with the leftover bruising and itching pain.

"I don"t see how you can remember what all these plants do," Wren said to me as I tightened the fresh strips of cloth around her forearm. In the main room, which was most of the cottage, Rhys and Fox sat facing the hearth and its crackling flames. Tille and the children were away in the other cottage, speaking to Vilma. Behind me, Sidh breathed softly. "How long did you spend learning all this?"

I sat back on the stool, thinking before I spoke. "I was...apprenticed when I was eight years old. I spent several years learning remedies."

Wren shook her head in wonderment. "I could never be a physician. The plants would get jumbled in my head. How do you keep it all straight?"

I shrugged one shoulder. It was no grand feat for me to recall herbal properties. Repetition was ingrained in my blood, embedded in my bones. Servor had pounded the information into my skull, past all my defenses. Once it was there, it could not escape. New things were learned more slowly, if only because the pain of disfigurement - the alchemist"s corporal punishment - was lessened. "I repeat the information to myself until I know it firmly," I said. "I remember easily when I try."

"I"m jealous," Wren uttered, pouting.

"Practice," I replied, feeling the heat of the afternoon sun through the open window. "The only thing keeping you from learning is yourself."

"Listen to you," Fox said. "Dae the philosopher!"

I shook my head. "Not at all. It is only truth." I was no philosopher, no peddler of knowledge. I was a body built for motion and flight - or so I kept telling myself.

"It is truth," Rhys agreed.

We said nothing for a time after that. Eventually, we were all invited to Vilma"s cottage for dinner. She was a short, thick woman with a gentle smile and sad, dark eyes. I learned that her husband had died two years ago in a boating accident a few miles off the coast, leaving her and her four children alone. Tille had insisted they come to live with her and help with her small farm. The second cottage where the family now lived had been build with the funds that Fox and Wren brought home. I was struck by the bonds between the members of this extended family. It was clear that they cared deeply for one another. Even Rhys, who was not related by blood, was considered a part of the family. The notion that I might have a place here did not seem plausible.

"And where are you from, Dae?" Vilma asked sweetly, setting a bowl of steaming corn on the table.

"Caesia," I answered. "The mainland."

"You have a pleasant accent," the woman said. "I"ve been to Caesia before but I don"t recognize your manner of speaking. What town are you from?"

I hesitated, thinking. "I never lived in one place for long. I am something of a wanderer." I smiled to lend credence to my words.

"Oh, to be so free," Tille said jestingly. The oldest child, Kara, rolled her eyes at her aunt. The youngest boy stared at me throughout the meal, his eyes wide. He could not have been more than a year or two older than little Alessia, I thought. I smiled at him and he fidgeted and slumped in his seat, face red as a cherry. The older boy elbowed him in the ribs, grinning wickedly. I looked away before they started bickering.

"How did you meet our light-fingers here?" Tille asked, referring to my companions. I thought it strange that she, as a mother, did not seem to be overly concerned with their profession as thieves. But so long as food was on the table, perhaps it did not matter. "Rhys mentioned it was a long story."

I glanced at the dark-haired man, sensing more than seeing his flinch. It was unnecessary, for there needed to be no mention of my heritage in the tale at all - if that was his concern. "Perhaps not so long," I replied. Raising the carved wooden cup to my lips, I sipped the cool blackberry wine to wet my lips. They were watching me, the children and the mothers. Wren and Fox were eating, but I knew they listened. Rhys drank deep from his cup.

"I have already mentioned that I am something of a wanderer. I was coming down past the marshes of the mainland, moving south, when two trolls ambushed me." The children"s eyes widened at that. "I tried to escape them, but rather than losing them in the midst of the woods, I accidentally led them right into the middle of a small encampment." I looked at my companions, hearing Tille"s sudden gasp of horror and the children"s gasps of shock and glee.

Wren continued my narrative. "Dae is something of a warrior, too," she interjected. "She killed the trolls to spare us and then tried to leave! Rhys invited her to the fire, however, and asked her to guard us as we went to the ruins to look for treasure."

"And now, apparently, we can"t be rid of her," Fox japed, grinning at me.

"Ah, well. With the amount of scrapes we get into, it"s good a have a physician on hand," Rhys added.

"Have you fought in battles?" the oldest boy, Terran, asked excitedly.

"Do you wear armor?" Kara blurted.

"I said she was like a warrior, not an actual one!" Wren explained in exasperation.

I drank another swallow of wine, both pleased and uneasy due to the attention. Attention turned to other topics and I was once more left in relative peace. Part of me was pleased that I had spoken and related a portion of my story. I did not want my life always told through someone else"s eyes. The evening wore on. The children retired first, then Vilma. Wren went back to the cottage to feed Sidh as best she could, with Tille"s help.

Fox did not offer me a space in Tille"s cottage, small though it was, and when I saw he and Rhys glance at each other I knew it was purposefully done. I laughed to myself, though my heart beat a little faster. I did trust Rhys; it was myself of which I was unsure. When we returned to Rhys" cabin, my bed was a hammock strung up in the corner of the main room. When Rhys was asleep in his room, I took the opportunity to duck outside and bathe quickly in the spring behind the cottage. Then I went on the thatched, sloped roof to watch the stars, acutely aware of the man in the house below.


//~*~\


Two days passed. Each morning Rhys and I ventured down to the cottages to check on Sidh. Each morning he was unchanged. I gave him more brews, which dribbled slowly down his unresisting throat, and helped Tille and Wren change the linens on the bed. His family had finally been told of his condition and Sidh"s mother and father were now frequent visitors. They were quiet, unassuming people but I could not help but feel uneasy in their presence. I could not make myself scarce when they were present for they had frequent questions about his care and treatment. I answered as best I could and was always surprised to see the blind acceptance in their eyes when I spoke.

In the moments when I was not answering questions or brewing potions, Rhys attempted to teach me to swim.

I stood on the bank dressed in a pair of knee-length breeches, a bandeau, and my headband. My toes curled in the cool mud of the lakeside and I could feel the hot sun baking the sun on my shoulders and back. My hair was pulled back tightly, brushing against the nape of my neck when the breeze came through, and my exposed skin shivered.

"You just float," Rhys explained, "and kick with your feet while moving your arms like this." He mimicked the motions for me, shirtless and waist-deep in the cold water. Two children, the boys, frolicked in the water several feet away. They called out encouragement as they splashed and dived, making me feel foolish and inadequate. Gritting my teeth, I marched into the water until it reached my hips.

"You have to come further than that," Rhys coaxed. "I"m not going to let you drown, I swear."

I was too buoyant; my feet continually lifted off the lake bed. Rhys reached out his hands to me and I took them, feeling him hold me steady as I began to float. I tried to stay vertical in the water, kicking my feet slowly. Rhys pulled me closer, moving back in the water and from the way he suddenly bobbed I knew the bottom had dropped out from under him. My teeth clenched painfully as a spurt of panic escaped into my blood.

"Good! You"re treading water now, Dae," the dark-haired man said cheerfully. "This isn"t so bad, is it?"

I had ventured out on the water before in dugouts and ships. I had crossed streams by way of fallen logs or stepping stones. I had never tried to swim before though I managed to float. There had been no need. Lakes could be skirted; rivers usually had bridges or shoals. I asked myself why I was doing this, even though I already knew the answer. I did it because I enjoyed new experiences and because Rhys asked it of me. But I knew why sailors did not learn to swim. Better a swifter death by immediate drowning than a lingering battle with no hope of winning.

"Now what?" I asked, pushing on Rhys" steady hands to keep my face and neck out of the water.

"Lean forward. I"ll hold you - and start kicking with your feet."

I tilted, feeling his hands on my waist, and slowly paddled with my feet. I could feel the slow thrust of thwarted propulsion. My arms slipped forward, moving as I had seen Rhys do earlier. He called out encouragement and the two children whooped and hollered. Then he released me. It was without warning. Instantly, I began to sink.

"Kick faster!" Rhys called.

I did, and I could feel myself moving through the water. My heart was pounding with pride and determination. Such a small thing to do, and only now had I learned it. I had floated after the fall in the ruins, treading water as I heard it called. That had been instinctual, but I had not been able to pull myself to shore. Floating was one thing. Propulsion was another. I paused, ready to turn around, not wanting to tire in the middle of the lake. I moved to face the shore again and leaned forward, thrilled with my triumph, and promptly sank. It was as if a hand had gripped and pulled me under.

Bubbles streamed past my face, obscuring my vision. The air caught in my throat, unable to force itself past my locked lips. For some reason, I did not panic as the water closed over my head. I was calm, looking past the clearing bubbles, through the slender tendrils of lake-grass undulating around me. A face, green and dark, emerged from the weeds, hair melding with the foliage around it. A man"s eyes, blue-green like the sea. A deep voice in my head. We still wait for you. The eyes blinked once, slowly, and an arm with plant-like fronds reached out from the weeds so slowly to touch me.

I do not know you, I thought with a strange disregard for this supernatural phenomenon.

You will, the voice said, coming from the face with no mouth. In time.

I exploded up from the water, Rhys" arms wrapped tight around me. Lake water streamed from my nose and I blinked wet lashes in confusion. Was I going mad? Rhys carefully gripped me by the shoulders until I focused my eyes on his. "I am fine," I said, wetness pouring from my nose and the corners of my mouth. Wet tendrils of hair stuck to my face like unconcealed veins.

"What happened?" Rhys asked, still treading water with me. "You were doing so well."

"I...had trouble starting alone," I hedged, the turquoise eyes haunting me. "It is different when no one is holding you up."

He apologized. "Would you like to continue, Dae?"

"Yes. I think I am learning." The face in the weeds slipped from my mind. It was akin to the dream I had had on the cask in the sea. I did not worry overmuch about gods and goddesses, though they appeared to have an interest in me. I did not want to think about them, to recognize them, to see them. I wished they would leave me alone and let me enjoy whatever life I had left. Perhaps if I ignored them they would go away.

Later, in the evening when Rhys and I were both close to exhaustion, we went back to Tille"s cottage and donned dry clothes. Wren sat before the hearth, brushing Alessia"s dark hair until it gleamed. Fox had just returned from town and was sorting through his purchases in the corner. Two bolts of cloth, sewing needles, and three sacks of wool were swiftly placed next to the spinning wheel before Fox stooped to pluck some roasted nuts from the gray coals of the hearth.

I settled on the stool by Sidh"s bedside. As Rhys went past, he placed a hand on my shoulder and smiled down at me. I returned it, feeling my constant burdens lightening. I was content, languid with acceptance.

In that moment, Sidh coughed. It was a soft sound but it was more than anything that had previously emerged from him. I turned on the stool, watching carefully, and felt the beat of his heart with the flat of my hand. It was strong and steady, swifter than before he had taken my remedies. I leaned forward, pressing an ear again to his chest as he coughed once more. His breath was firm and much less shallow. A thrill ran through me.

"How is he?" Wren asked worriedly.

I sat back, smiling faintly, as Sidh twitched. "He is waking," I answered, and moved away, knowing Sidh would not wish to see me first upon his awakening. Let him see Wren, or even Fox or Rhys. After a few minutes, Wren hooted in glee as Sidh"s green eyes flashed open.

"Give him room," I whispered to Fox and Rhys when they tried to crowd closer, and pushed them back a few feet. I stood back in the main room with them, watching as Wren leaned over the bed. Her face was shining; her eyes were wet with unshed tears.

"Sidh? How are you feeling?" she said softly, taking his hand in hers.

"What happened?" Sidh asked. He was propped up somewhat with a few fat pillows, and his eyes rolled around to peer at his surroundings.

"Marcus" ship sank," Wren explained. "You hit your head and have been unconscious for more than a week."

His stomach growled unexpectedly and a weak smile crossed his pale face. "No wonder I"m so hungry," he japed. I allowed Rhys and Fox to skirt past me to greet the beleaguered member of their troupe. Sidh seemed well enough. He would be weak for a time, I reckoned, until his muscles were once again used to movement and weight. He still needed time.

I waited by the window in the main room, away from the bustle of the sleeping alcove that housed Sidh and three others. Glancing out the window I saw Tille and two children coming up the path toward the cottage. Kara and Alan. Thirteen and eight years, respectively. The ages I had been when my life had changed so drastically. How young they looked to me, how frail. How had I survived?

"Dae," Rhys said, motioning me over. I went hesitantly, not wanting to intrude, and found an open place between him and Fox.

"Hello, Sidh," I said, my eyes taking in his pallor and the dark circles under his eyes. They seemed more noticeable now that he was awake. "How fare you?"

"Dae," Sidh replied in greeting. There was no welcome in his voice, just acknowledgment. "My head aches some, but not bad."

"I am glad to hear it," I returned. Before I could add anything further, Rhys spoke.

"Dae helped you, Sidh. We think you"d still be out if it wasn"t for her. She"s an excellent physician."

"I know," Sidh admitted grudgingly, flicking his eyes to me momentarily. "I remember what happened to your shoulder that day." His green eyes turned to me once more, but this time they stayed. "Thank you," the young man said, meaning it.

I nodded, fighting a blush at Rhys" unexpected praise. "If you need anything, just ask."

Slipping away as soon as the opportunity came, I went out the front door of the cottage. Tille and the two children were waiting there. The woman"s hand was raised, ready to grasp the handle. I excused myself, knowing my abrupt presence had startled them. The boy stared at me, wide-eyed and frozen. The girl smiled shyly at me, tugging at one of her thick, red-brown braids. I looked at Tille.

"Sidh is awake," I told her. "He is hale and coherent but still needs time to recuperate."

"I understand," the older woman stated. She reached out and clasped my hands between her own. "Thank you. On Wren"s behalf, I thank you." Her eyes were wet.

When they went inside, I crossed quickly to the lake, uneasy with the attention I had garnered. It was not so long ago that the amount of people I now surrounded myself with would have terrified me. I was growing used to the presence of others, slowly but surely. I could still feel Tille"s hand gripping mine with her gratitude and joy. I could feel Rhys" lips expressing his relief and attraction. It amazed me that I had come so far, allowing humans into my inner circle of acceptance.

I scaled a high tree by the pool, seating my tired body on a high limb that was shadowed by a thin screen of long leaves. I had come so far, I thought again, and now I wanted - almost needed - some time alone. I rested my weary body in the curves of the branches, feeling the damp, warm wood against my skin, pressed an ear to the trunk and let the soft, wordless whispers of the tree soothe me. I had come across the vast sea and given up all control as I relied on others to ferry me from one place to another. I had come to a place where I knew nothing - and yet I was happy.

Yes, that was the word I meant. The thought struck me like a blow. Before now, I had only been resigned with my lot, content at most. Never happy. But things had changed, and I thought that I had as well - or was in the process of it. I had true friends, people that knew me for what I was and accepted it. I could be a physician now instead of a killer and no one would look at me mockingly, thinking I was pretending to be something I was not. I could help people instead of hurt them, if I wished.

But the need for action was still buried within. I burned to move, to dance, to flow. Sitting around on the boll of a tree was all well and good for a time, as was chatting pleasantly with my newfound friends, but I was not made for inaction. The tree"s whispers wrapped around my mind, tempering my thoughts. The lake spread wide beneath me, darkening in the oncoming gloom of dusk. Birds and insects twittered and chirped in the high grasses and fluttered overhead. I could smell smoke from the cottage. The hearth had been lit with cedar heartwood.

Rhys had kissed me. I slipped down from the tree, breathing deep of the cool, fresh air. Kissed me like he meant it, like he had feelings for me. My muscles were slightly sore from my swimming lesson, aching wonderfully. He had touched me, held my waist in his strong hands to keep me afloat. He had not ever shied away from me. Not once. If anything, the dark-haired man always fought to be closer. No one, not even Nyx, had attempted that.

Too much thought. Always too much thought and never enough action. My fists clenched, the nails biting into the tough skin of my palms. I would ask him, I decided suddenly. When the chance came, I would ask him.

I raced one swift circuit around the lake, feeling my heart pump rapidly with exertion rather than fear. I liked the taste of fatigue; anxiety was bitter on my tongue. The first stars were emerging in the sky when I ended my trip and walked back to the cottage. I slipped silently into the main room. Sidh was mostly alone now, except for Wren. Tille and Kara were busy at the ironworks in the fireplace. Fish steaming in cornhusks, vegetables mixed with brown rice, flaking biscuits. It smelled delicious. I sat in the chair near the door, wondering where Fox and Rhys had gone.

Wren uttered a little shriek when she glanced over and saw me. "Dae! When did you get back in?"

"Just now," I answered. "Where are Rhys and Fox?"

"They had to run over to Vilma"s for a bit. Part of the thatch just fell in and they"re looking to see what can be done."

Tille had jumped when Wren shrieked, and she turned to glance at me, holding her large spoon like a sword. "Dae, good evening," she said, covering her flinch quite nicely. Kara peered at me, smiled shyly, and then turned back to her work. Not knowing what else to do, I went past Wren - who was very devoted to Sidh"s wellbeing - and wandered over to Vilma"s cottage.

The two youngest children accosted me on the way. Barreling around the corner of the cottage, they raced toward me over the moon-bright grass, not realizing that I was in their path. Peals of childish laughter rang through the air as they chased each other like wolf pups at play. I watched them, envying their carefree and uninhibited manner, and caught the girl Alessia before she could sprawl against my shins.

"Ooh!" she grunted as the abrupt stop registered. I made certain she was steady on her feet before releasing her small shoulders. "Oh, hello," the child chirped, smiling broadly at me. Almost instantly I was forgotten. "Come on, Alan! You"re still the bear. Grarr!" The young girl dashed away as the boy chased her with his fingers bent like claws. He made his snarling voice as deep as possible for someone his age, and I could not help but be amused by their antics.

When I entered the second cottage, I saw Rhys, Fox, Vilma and the oldest boy, Terran, staring up at the sky through a cask-sized hole in the roof. "With the extra straw stored in the barn, it should be a relatively easy fix," Fox was saying. "We"ll have to replace that section of slats because of the rot, but it should last for a few days."

"We"ve made so many repairs already. I don"t know if I have the coin for it right now," Vilma responded quietly. "We could split our own slats but by the time they dried..."

"Half the roof might be down by then, Ma," Terran said, gauging the hole with a ten-year-old"s expertise.

"We"ll think of something," Rhys replied firmly, and his eyes caught mine as he noticed my presence.

So there would be a job soon, I realized. I only hoped it would be different than the one in the ruins.