COP S2.7 The Mantel Grows
I stared at Asher. He hadn’t struck me as the sarcastic or joking type.
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Previously on…
Lyn is reflecting on her vision with the fryn when Asher joins her. They realize that the sketch Lyn made is a touchstone, able to reset her pattern back to her original with a simple touch. It will keep the Demeid from taking her over again. And if it works on Lyn, they wonder if it is possible to reset the pattern of the land itself and push the Demeid out.
I stared at Asher. He hadn’t struck me as the sarcastic or joking type. “There are thousands of people hundreds of years old? Where the hell are they?”
He turned his hand over so his palm was up. A single fryn appeared, cupped at the center. “All around us here, at the table, in the cottage, in the cave and many other places. I don’t know why I didn’t see it before.”
“The fryn? What are you talking about?” It didn’t make sense. Though the fryn had a shared memory, I assumed they had some normal life span. Would they really know the original land pattern? “If the fryn have the memory why didn’t they just fix the land already? Why would they need any help from us? Especially someone infected like me? I’d think they’d snuff us out, not try and save us.”
He threw up his hands. “I don’t know. I told you their behavior doesn’t always make sense. Their choices…seem arbitrary but I don’t believe they are. But you can see it as well as I can now. This is what they’ve been trying to tell us. Why they’ve been working hard to keep you and Tass protected from the Demeid.”
It was true I could sense an overwhelming relief, a sort of peace, from the fryn. The two that hung on to me were rotating, swinging back and forth in a kind of slow happy dance. “Why can’t they just tell us what to do then?”Asher opened his mouth but I cut him off. “I know. They don’t always make sense.”
He chuckled. “Yes.”
It hit me how strange it was that sometimes I could clearly understand what the fryn wanted, but other times I couldn’t. Why would they hold back if they knew what to do? And if they needed us to help, why couldn’t they just say so—in their own way. A sense of frustration hit me, but passed when I looked at my two fryn guardians. The phrase “All in the right timing” swept through my mind when they stopped their slow dance, jiggled, then resumed their motion in the air above me.
“Yeah, well I have a feeling it makes sense to them. What now then? It seemed like Tass had some sort of plan from what I remember of the conversation last night. But he didn’t know about this pattern reset the fryn apparently want us to do.” I leaned forward. “And I don’t think I know everything there is to know yet so I have no idea how to get started.”
A wide smile crossed Asher’s face. “You’re willing to pick up this mantel?”
The way he said it made me want to run and hide. But I knew there was no hiding from what waited deep inside me. I needed to save myself, and if I had to save the rest of the world to do it, then so be it. “It doesn’t seem I have a choice.”
“We always have a choice.” He looked to the side, towards the door Tass’ uncle usually appeared from with cups and food.
“Why did you leave Yiat?” The words just came out. After all, he knew a hell of a lot about me already, he’d read me more than once, and I’d just agreed to fight the tremendously powerful force waiting to kill more than half the population. I deserved an answer to at least one personal question.
His attention returned to me. “I suppose Nia told you that. That woman has a heart worth more than all the healing knowledge I have, but usually she’s a bit more discrete.” He rested his chin on his hands with his elbows on his knees. “The answer is simple though. I left because it wasn’t safe for me any more. The purges were still in place when I went to Yiat and took an apprenticeship at Brots. I thought could make a difference. So many people suffer in the dark corners and back alleys of that awful city.” He shook his head again as if the memory was arguing with him. “At first it all went well. I was young, dedicated, and careful. It wasn’t to long, though, before Brots, and their more privileged clientele, realized I had an uncanny knack for healing. I was shuffled to the back rooms and allowed to heal the way I’d been taught by…well using my magic more than their elixirs and methods. But only on the patients they thought were worthy of it, or that could pay. I wasn’t the only one of course.” He sat back and took a long breath in. “Long story short, the laz ordered a crackdown on all suspected magic users. Brots was raided, those working at the time were executed in the street. It was fortune that I was away when it happened. I managed to get out of the city and have never gone back.”
“But you could now. The purges are over, there’s magic everywhere you look.”
“Maybe you’ve escaped it, but the fear of magic still runs deep in the north, in Yiat especially, and in the laz’s mind particularly. He may be old. He may have loosened his grip at the king’s orders to lift the purge, but magic users still need to be wary. Or at least they should be.”
“Is that the only reason? I mean, what about Tass’ uncle?” If I was going to dedicate myself to his cause, I really felt like I needed to know. Or maybe I was just curious. Their interactions were subtle but I’d rarely seen such closeness on display. It was a side of life I didn’t know, not even before I was cast out.
“I’d vowed never to go back to Yiat years before I made my vows to Mise.” He waved his hand as if any sentiment they’d experience against their relationship didn’t matter at all.
I let it go.
“We should wait for the others before we discuss making plans. Tass did have something in mind, but as you said, things have changed. I’m going to go rest for a little while and I suggest you do the same.” He stood and looked down at me. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For coming back. For listening. For agreeing to help. We’ve been doing what we can, but until you came…well, I was beginning to fear…we at least have a chance now, however small.”
An uncomfortable pressure spread across my chest and formed a lump in my throat. That mantel suddenly felt much heavier than I expected. I wanted to save myself, the rest was just necessary to do so. I gave him a curt nod and he left, back through what I decided to call the tea door. I didn’t even know if the drink they gave me was tea, but it had a nice ring to it.
Tea door, cave door, grassy glade door…I wondered about the origin of this strange little portal-filled cottage. But I’d have to wait to ask about it. In the meantime I needed to move, and to think, and to be distracted.
I took the chance the cave door always went to the cave, assuming the fryn’s willingness to follow as confirmation. The moist air, heavy with magic hit me and the stone that should have been cold on my bare feet felt warm. The flowers still waved slightly in the breeze coming off the waterfall pool, and a few fryn buzzed around, though I sensed there were many more unseen.
Alone, I let myself relax, not to read the space but to feel it.
I fell to the ground and cried.
By the time Asher found me I’d recovered. I’d found an outcrop of stone that served as an adequate bench and had started sketching the garden. The shapes of the flowers had been simple enough to capture, but nothing I did managed to convey their beauty and glow. I closed the book, disappointed in my abilities. The place felt so much like home, not my childhood home, but a place I belonged that I wanted to take it with me. Maybe create a touchstone of sorts, but I still hadn’t read the pattern. Not even those of the flowers given the fryn were still around. Of course I’d seen the fryn’s pattern in my memory, but I sensed a resistance to reading it here in the present. I suppose that should have made me uneasy, that I still couldn’t do what I do, but the place just fit, or I fit in it. In a way there was no need to read it, but I suspect that would have helped me draw the garden better.
I gathered my pencils and followed Asher inside.
Around the table sat Steffan, Mise, Asher and Tass. They’d pulled in another chair from somewhere and I joined them in the empty seat. Cups were placed around, one for each of us, and a plate of cheese and bread was at the center. Steffan munched on a hunk of each in her hands. She still wouldn’t look at me but she didn’t scowl at me either. Progress at least.
Tass was on the edge of his seat, clearly a bit impatient. He looked troubled. Or anxious. I couldn’t tell which. “Asher says something happened last night. But he’s made us wait for you.”
“I think you need to drink some tea, Tass.” I pointed to the cup in front of him.
“We all should,” Mise said and lifted his cup.
Steffan grabbed hers and peered at me over the top. I still didn’t want to drink, but I took a sip just to be nice. Especially when I knew what I was going to say next. “Ah, yeah. I can tell you what happened, but,” I looked at Asher, “I’m not sure I should share it all with Steffan here.”
She lowered the cup, a frown settling on her face. “I told you. She doesn’t trust me.”
“I don’t know you, why you came to follow me, or rather the real reason Harry sent you to find me. Given the magnitude of what we discussed earlier Asher, I don’t trust her enough to share it.”
I expected her to stomp off, but she slunked down in her chair looking dejected.
“Please Lyn. The details you mention matter of course, but they are in the past. She’s a part of this now. She’s marked, like you, though in a different way. And I trust her in this. She’ll be a great asset, and we will need all the help we can get.” He sighed. “The mantel isn’t nearly as heavy when the load is shared.”
His words didn’t help the mantel feel any lighter. It got heavier. More people to take care of, to worry about, to learn to trust. I folded my arms and leaned back, unwilling to continue.
A fryn appeared on my right shoulder, wobbled then flew over to Steffan. It touched her mark. It faded, just enough to notice, before returning to the deep purple it was. The fryn flew back and wiggled in my face. I got the sense it was agreeing with Asher. “Fine.”
I launched into my tale in fits and starts. My experience with the fryn had been so personal and cherished—at least now that I remembered it—I was uncomfortable sharing it with so many people I really didn’t know.
I left out the part about creating my touchstone and launched right into our theory that the fryn wanted to reset the pattern of the land, just like they’d done mine. Asher raised his eyebrow at me but let it slide.
“So how do we do that?” Tass asked. “How do we help the fryn reset the land?”
“We don’t know,” Asher and I said at the same time.
If the topic hadn’t been so serious, I would have chuckled. “You had a plan before Tass. What was it? Maybe it will still work?”
“Maybe…I don’t see how it would help really. We have a list of people we think are infected. They aren’t sennpans, though we can’t be one hundred percent sure that’s true. I thought if we tracked them down we could maybe find out more about what is happening. If the infection is starting to spread beyond direct contact, or if there are others who might be a risk.”
“A risk, or at risk?” It was a small, but critical difference.
“Both, probably.”
Mise shifted uncomfortably and sent a look of concern at Tass. Steffan sat a little straighter.
“Where would we start?”
Tass took a drink. “Locally. The signs and warnings around the Daunger ruins keep disappearing. Someone is taking them down, even cleared the path. It was much overgrown just a week ago. Whoever is doing it is likely infected, or at least under some kind of control. The people around here know about the dangers, or are simply afraid from superstition. Yet someone is doing their best to make sure it looks friendly.”
He gave me a look I took as an apology for assuming I’d barged in there warnings and all.
Steffan put her cup down hard on the table. “What do we do with them when we find them? Bring them to the healer, or can I kill them?”
Next episode on Saturday April 26, 2025.
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