The Fickle Winds of Autumn

Kira strolled comfortably along the verdant lane.

The low autumn sun winked down at her through the thinning canopy of trees; it glinted off the muddy puddles left from last night’s rain and bathed the track in soft cadences of mild, yellow warmth.

The faint, mottled birdsong orchestrated a rich score below the chatter of her companions; she inhaled the sweet freshness of the air and the fragrant subtleties of the moist earth.

A shallow ditch ran alongside the path; in the lush of its damp fertility, the purple-jewelled brambles shone against the flushing brilliance of autumn’s ruddy hues; discrete clusters of mushrooms peeped out at intervals through the fallen leaf litter and the slowly bronzing bracken.

Her happy shoulders relaxed. Her imagination had told her that this was exactly how the outside world should be - a pleasant, well-worn pathway, leading through the rolling beauty of the countryside, with trusted friends for company and fellowship.

Occasionally, her thoughts ruffled and flickered; they insisted on reminding her of the boredom and frustration of the Convent - the life she was now sauntering back towards.

She was keen to see Amber again - but she could not be certain that she was quite ready to say goodbye to Aldwyn - or to Ellis.

Around a tree-lined bend, an open-topped wagon floundered with its wheels lodged in the ditch.

A plump woman in a crimson-patterned head-scarf waved frantically and called out as she moved towards them, clutching a bundled infant to her chest.

“Oh sirs, please help! It’s my husband! His leg! He fell out of the cart when our horse took a fright and landed us in the ditch, and his leg is all broken! And then my poor boy! He fell out after his father and hurt his arm! Oh sirs, what am I to do? Help us, please! Have mercy on us in the Surrounder’s good name!”

Kira’s body prickled with caution; fraught memories of being captured by the slavers prodded and flashed.

Aldwyn stepped forward.

“I am a healer,” he said. “I will see what can be done.”

“Oh! Say that you can save him, master healer!” the woman exclaimed. “Say that you can! For I am dying with the worry of it all here, master healer, I am just dying from it all!”

The wagon was burdened with several large, rough sacks.

A muscular brown horse with a tawny mane stood nearby, munching on the thick vegetation of the ditch. It snorted in their direction as they approached, then continued with its meal.

Aldwyn walked round the wagon to the far side; a slight-looking farmer sat wincing on the verge.

“It’s my leg, master healer - I was throwed clear of the wagon but landed awkwardly. And my son is hurt too - see to him first, if you please - he put his arms out to stop his fall - it seems his shoulder is in a bad way.”

A young boy of four or five was huddled on the ground next to his father, clutching at his arm, shivering and grimacing.

The rotund woman bustled her way through and stood over the group.

“He was a fool to harness old Snowy,” she said, pointing towards the horse, “when he knewed all about his temper. I told him not to do it master healer, but would he listen to me? No! Not one bit of it! And off he goes and harnesses old Snowy without so much as a second thought - and now look at us! I ask you - just look at us now!”

Aldwyn crouched and ran his fingers gently down the man’s leg, then examined the boy’s arm and shoulder.

Kira sat nearby; her curious thoughts bubbled and intrigued.

Aldwyn was a magikant - he had even healed her own legs back in his cottage - but she had never actually seen him practice his profession and wield the magik.

An expectant fascination pulled at her attention. She lent in closer.

Ellis moved round, near to his master.

Kira’s pulse quickened.

Would he also be involved?

“And here’s me so upset with it all,” the large lady announced. Her cheeks quivered with emotion as she wiped them dry with her kerchief.

“Why, I hardly knewed how to breathe, let alone talk, what with the fright of it all.”

Kira’s puzzled thoughts could not help but notice that, despite her protestations to the contrary, the good woman was still clearly very much able to talk.

“I will see to this man’s leg,” Aldwyn said to Ellis. “Your learning is more than enough to deal with the boy’s dislocated arm.”

A warming glow ran through Kira.

Ellis would assist with the healing.

“Oh, say that you can save him, sir! Say that you can!” the woman continued. “He is a worthless fool of a husband, but he’s the only one I’ve got. And, despite all his faults, I does love him dearly! Although he doesn’t deserve one such as me, he truly doesn’t.”

Aldwyn did not appear to pay the good lady any heed; he muttered a low, rhythmical chant below his breath and closed his eyes to the world.Text content © NôvelDrama.Org.

His voice grew louder and more insistent; he pulled back the tattered rags of his robe from his forearms. A series of strange, swirling blue symbols began to glow from beneath his pallid skin; they shone out even against the warmth of the morning sun; his face relaxed into a peaceful repose; he seemed younger, more serene than normal.

Kira shuddered. Her mind flared back to the Grand Harmonist and the Ceremony; the shocking panic; the attack; her classmates; the awful smell; it all seemed so real, so close - would the rushing, gnawing anxiety ever leave her alone?

The horse snorted uneasily and shook the tassels of its mane; its head dipped back down again, and it resumed munching nonchalantly.

Kira’s thoughts calmed and cleared.

There was no danger here.

It was only Aldwyn - he was healing an injured man.

Ellis knelt by the boy and muttered some words.

Kira’s curiosity compelled her to stand; she moved around the cart a little, so as to get a better view.

The stern look of concentration on Ellis’s face made him seem older than before and more serious. His eyes brightened to a deeper, more sincere blue, which almost shone in their rich lustre. Her thoughts meandered and drifted back to the wolves and the chasm on the mountain - the first time she had really noticed his gaze, as he dangled below her helplessly.

He closed his eyes as his deep chant intensified.

The child’s face was already ruddy and tear-stained from his injury; he cried out and complained to his mother that he did not like what was happening.

“Oh young miss,” said the large woman, “will you take the babbie from me while I comfort little Willum?”

She pressed the infant into Kira’s arms and moved off without waiting for a reply.

The warm, wriggling bundle kicked and squirmed next to Kira’s body. She looked down at the helpless child: had she also once been such a tiny dependant thing?

Of course, she had seen babies before - several infants had been left at the foundling-wheel during her time at the Venerated Convent of the Sinless Moon. Perhaps their parents were too ill, or too poor, to look after the children themselves, so the unfortunate babies had been left with the nuns - abandoned, just as Kira herself had been - to the strict whims of religious life.

But as a novicella, she had never been allowed to actually touch the mewling youngsters, much less to pick one of them up or hold them so close. Partly this was because it was not her role to perform such duties; and partly because the nuns did not want the infants to be spoilt by too much unnecessary attention from the younger girls.

An uneasy weight of responsibility pressed down on her. The strange, new experience concerned and troubled her - perhaps she was not doing it correctly?

Perhaps her clumsy hands might drop such a precious bundle?

Perhaps she should tighten her grip to make sure?

But there again, if she held it too tightly, she may accidentally squash the child, or hurt it.

She stared at the dark pink wrinkles of its creased little face. She had thought that only the older nuns had such lines etched into their brows and around their draw-string mouths - but the baby seemed healthy and contented enough.

Aldwyn stretched out his arms behind his head and sighed as he lay back on the grassy verge. Ellis was already relaxing on the turf by the wagon.

A frustrated annoyance jabbed across Kira’s mind - her musings about the baby had distracted her from watching the healing magik she had been so curious about and had so wanted to see.

The infant’s mother was already back; she cooed over her child.

“There now! Mummy’s here again! Oh miss, he seems so snug and happy in your arms - I can see he’s taken to you right away miss, and only look on this as being good omen for when you have children of your own.”

Kira gathered her flustered thoughts.

“Oh, but I’m a novicella,” she explained. “We’re on our way back to my convent now - so I don’t expect I will have a family.”

“Oh, but bless you, young miss,” the lady continued, “and don’t I have eyes in my own head? I’ve seen the way young master healer does look at you - and you don’t seem to mind it so much, or I’m no judge of character!”

An uncomfortable prickle of heat crept across Kira’s body. She stared down intently at the baby.

“Why I’d be blowed down to think the two of you won’t be married off by the turn of next summer!” the lady commented.

The spiky heat rose up from Kira’s toes and flushed across her cheeks.

Hopefully, if she kept looking down and avoiding eye contact, the woman would go away.

“By the Surrounder’s good ears, how you do blush, young miss!” the woman continued to chirrup. “And doesn’t that colour tell its own story? I should say so!” she laughed.

The injured man stood up doubtfully and rubbed his leg. He hobbled for a short time and held the wagon for support until he was able to walk unaided.

“There, master healer, good as new - thanks to your skill and kindness,” he said.

“Yes,” his good lady wife added, “but no thanks to you and your harnessing of old Snowy.” She shot him a disapproving glance. “How many times must I tell you before you finally start listening to me?”

The man rubbed his chin; he opened his mouth as if he was about to risk making a reply to his beloved wife - but then clearly thought better of it and set about working with the horse to pull the cart back onto the pathway.

The woman grabbed the baby and moved away.

Kira’s shoulders relaxed back into their place; her empty arms missed the warmth of the child, but her relieved blood returned to its natural course, now that she was no longer the subject of the good woman’s kindly attentions.

“Well!” the large woman continued at Aldwyn. “We might still make it to Tunville by sundown - despite my fool of a husband’s adventures, master healer. May the Surrounder smile upon you for your kindness. We have no coin to pay you, but only these few old ends and rags we were taking to market - but you are welcome to help yourself to any that may take your fancy,” she said and motioned toward the sacks in the back of the wagon.

“Thank you mistress,” Aldwyn replied. “My robe, as you can see, is now little more than a collection of shreds, so I will take that - if I may?” he said as he reached for a thick, brown cloak.

His eyes wandered across the other sacks and rested on some dull-coloured woollen items.

“Oh, and these may also come in useful, if you can spare them,” he said.