The Descent to Madness (17 page)

Away, away to live alone with his shame.

The crowd watched. Lanah watched. Stone watched. No-one said a word, the only noise that of the still gentle wind and the cawing of distant birds.

***

There had been no cheering following his victory, for the loss of Arnoon to the wilds was a loss to the whole village and no cheering matter.

             
They entered the Chief’s hut, the mood subdued. Farr sat down with a sigh on his chair, the others about the fire. Only Stone remained standing, his arm bandaged up where it had been impaled.

             
“So that’s it?” His voice was curiously weak in the silence. “He’s gone?”

             
Farr nodded, face grim.

             
“That’s it. Gone. Your first honour challenge won. Doesn’t feel as good as you hoped it would, does it?”

             
Stone slowly shook his head, the memories of Arnoon running, of the aghast looks of despair on the faces of his family still etched on his mind.

             
“No… it just feels… like a waste.”

             
He swayed slightly, the room spinning.

             
“I don’t… feel… good…”

             
Wrynn and Lanah leapt up just as the room went black.

***

              “…what happened?”

             
He’d opened his eyes to find himself in a bed, not his own, Lanah crouched down beside him, eyes full of concern, Wrynn next to her, in a scene eerily reminiscent of only a week ago. His head throbbed, his muscles ached, but it made no sense – he’d lost some blood, sure, but nothing like enough to cause him to faint. And the arrow wouldn’t have been poisoned, the Elders had checked the weapons beforehand to make sure nothing untoward had been done to them.

             
“Spirit-sickness,” said Lanah, her voice full of relief at hearing his voice. He frowned, confused, before Wrynn explained.

             
“When you release your grip on the spirits after calling on then, they always take a little something with them as they leave.” His eyes were serious. “A piece of your life-essence, your soul, if you will.”

             
Stone’s eyes widened in horror, but Wrynn went on.

             
“The longer the spirits do your bidding, or the more spirits you bind to your call, the more of a toll they exact at the end. Normally they take a small enough part of your essence that you barely notice, your body regenerating it quickly enough, but you, my young apprentice, you put on quite a display and, for that, they took a hefty price. I’m surprised you’re not dead, to be honest.”

             
“Dead? You mean, using your powers can
kill
you?”

             
The old Shaman nodded.

             
“In extreme circumstances, yes. It all depends on the exact spirits upon which you call. The spirits of earth are gentle, life-giving, they won’t feed from you, that’s not their way. But the spirits of air are mischievous. And the spirits of fire…” he looked at Stone, an eyebrow raised in curiosity, “are especially greedy. They think nothing of stripping you bare. Tell me, young Nagah-Slayer, how long have you been able to summon fire?”

             
Stone rubbed his head, trying to think.

             
“I don’t know. I didn’t know I could. I just remember hearing a song in my head and – whoomph! – fire. Once it happened, that was it, I knew how to do it.”

             
Lanah and Wrynn shared a look, before Wrynn continued.

             
“I’m on the verge of no longer being surprised by anything you say, Stone. Your talent is beyond reproach, I just ask you this; be wary of which elements you call upon. There is a saying amongst the Plains-People; play with fire and you will get burned.”

             
He placed a hand on Lanah’s shoulder.

             
“I now leave you in young Lanah’s capable, healing hands. Recover your strength, for you have training to come. You have power, but it needs to be tempered with knowledge and wisdom. I aim to impart that.”

             
With that, he turned and left the two alone.

***

Stone looked about in the silence of the room, taking in the flowers on the table, the rail with clothes hung on it. It was pretty bare.

             
“So this is your bedroom, eh?” She nodded. “Not how I imagined it, what, with you being the chief’s daughter and all.”

             
Lanah laughed, gently, as she made her way over to close the hide door.

             
“Life’s about more than possessions, Stone, you of all people should know that. I sleep here, I get changed here, but apart from that, I spend almost no time here. I’m off cultivating my spirit-craft, training the skills Wrynn has taught me.”

             
“Where do you train? I’ve not seen you at Wrynn’s the last few days.”

             
She smiled as she moved back round to the side of the bed.

             
“Oh, I have a place. A picturesque copse of trees, not too far from the village, but far enough that I don’t get disturbed. It’s nice, peaceful; a place I can really connect with the earth. Some of us don’t have such a built-in connection, we have to work at it.” She laughed again, robbing the comment of any imagined malice.

             
Stone sat himself up in the bed, head still pounding from the backlash of the spirits.

             
“I remember Wrynn telling me that you’re a healer.”

             
The girl nodded.

             
“Yes. I parlay with the spirits of earth, though to very different effect to you…”

             
“How does it work?”

             
She knelt down, close beside him, so near he could smell the scented oils, his heart skipping a beat at her closeness.

             
“Let me show you…”

             
She placed her hand on his forehead, soft and warm and closed her eyes, the silence between them comfortable, natural, and he found himself closing his eyes too. As he did, he could feel a spreading warmth emanating from her hand, seeping into his head, seeking out the throbbing pain.

No, it was more than warmth, it was… her presence. The feeling you get in someone’s company, the subtle change in atmosphere as they walk into a room, only magnified ten-fold. Her essence, her mind, was gentling brushing against his and he could subtly feel her strength, her passion, her joy, all that made her
her
and as he could, he felt the pain draining out of him, flowing like water being sucked gently through a straw out of his head and into her hand.

Lanah gave a quiet gasp and he opened her eyes to see her wince in discomfort, but no sooner did he than her expression relaxed, becoming calm once more. Slowly, she removed her hand from his forehead, the contact of minds gently fading, before opening her eyes.

“And that is how a shaman heals.”

Stone said nothing for a time, merely looking into her eyes and her, his, before he broke the silence.

“You didn’t just relieve the pain, did you? I could feel you take it from me…”

She nodded.

“That’s right. I took your pain into me, then gave it, in turn, to the earth to take from me.”

“That’s amazing.”

She smiled.

“It’s something that took me a while to learn. To learn how to give the
pain
to the earth, without giving too much of yourself, is tricky.”

He was quiet as he thought about that, then spoke again.

“When your hand was on me, I could feel… you. Feel your personality.”

She smiled warmly, her eyes on his as she explained.

“Yes. Every time you use spirit-craft, you open a two-way connection, between yourself and whatever you’re channelling. Surely you’ve felt it, the connection with the earth, the tastes, the feelings. Your essences merge to a greater or lesser degree, depending on how deep you allow the connection to become. Use your craft on another person, you bare your soul to them and vice-versa.”

Stone thought back to the night at Wrynn’s hut after his first day of training, to the singed clothes and cremated chicken after his spirit-walk through the molten rock of the earth’s blood.

“What happens if you connect too deeply, stay too long?”

“I wouldn’t know, I’ve not done it myself. I’ve only healed people of minor illnesses, injuries, only brushing the surface of their souls. But from what Wrynn has explained to me in the past, it can go one of two ways.”
She looked at him, her eyes boring deep into his. “If both are willing to let the connection run deep, then it can be beautiful, like making love, but with your souls rather than your bodies.”

Stone tried to imagine it, couldn’t, then Lanah’s tone grew serious, her eyes downcast, not looking into his now.

“But if one side doesn’t want it, if, say, a shaman forces their mind into someone, then it’s ugly, painful. Their soul stripped bare of their memories, their hopes and dreams stolen and scrutinised.” She shivered. “Mind raped.”

Stone shivered with her, before changing the subject to a lighter topic.

“So… how do I compare to people you’ve healed before?” he asked, with a grin.

She looked at him, head tilted slightly, before replying.

“Do you really want to know?”

He nodded. She began slowly.

“To begin with, you seem the same as anyone else.”

“Oh, thanks.”

She smiled and continued.

“You have your personality on the surface, like lilies floating on a pond, there for me to see easily. But underneath, where the true core of a person lies, it is hard to make you out; it’s like a haze and, without going too far in, I struggled to make sense of it. To see who you really are beneath your exterior is difficult, like trying to grasp smoke with your hands.”

He nodded, sombrely.

“That’s because I don’t know who I am, myself.”

She nodded before finishing.

“But running underneath it all, even from only scratching the surface, I could sense a power, something I’ve never felt before in anyone, not even
Master Wrynn. I believe it is this that lets you tap into the spirits so readily, harness them to your will with seemingly no training. I believe it’s this that causes you to heal so fast.”

His ears pricked at this, pulling him out of his contemplation at this examination of his soul.

“I’ve been meaning to talk about that. Are you saying that my healing isn’t part of being a shaman?”

Her eyes widened, laughing a little as she replied.

“Bruises and cuts disappearing overnight? Surviving a Nagah-Bite? No, Stone, these are not things that either I, or even Wrynn, have ever come across before. It mystifies us as much as you.”

“So you didn’t
heal me of the fever?”

She shook her head.

“No. I was going to try – I owed you my life – but Wrynn stopped me. He said that the Nagah-Bite was lethal and that if I were to try to drain it from you, channel it into the earth, all I’d succeed in doing is killing myself into the bargain…”

Stone was silent, pondering this new information. Since arriving at the village, he’d thought that the path of the shaman held all his answers, that all his abilities stemmed from his talent at spirit-craft. Now, it was beginning to seem, his ability to control the spirits was merely one of many innate and unusual gifts he possessed…

              Her soft voice broke his contemplation.

             
“How do you feel now? Sickness-wise?”

             
His muscles were a hundred percent, his head much better, only a slight, dull ache betraying his previous episode, like the last dregs of a mug that had been all but drained.

             
“Better.”

             
“Shall we go outside for a walk?”

             
The covers were warm, the bed soft, softer than the one in his hut. He looked over at the beautiful girl by his side, her face full of strength and kindness, her youthful eyes full of wisdom beyond her years. Her body, lithe, young, athletic.

             
No, he told himself. Too soon. Too soon.

             
“Sure,” he replied. “A walk sounds great. I could do with some fresh air.”