Rich, loamy dark soil parted in Sulis’ fingers. She sniffed at it briefly before grumbling with dissatisfaction. Aurochs hadn’t churned this earth. As she picked herself up and dusted off her knees, she saw claw marks scored into the trees ahead of her. A bear, of course. After she’d picked up several bloodied bones and dropped them into her bag, she gathered more berries for the basket. The sun sat high above her, easing pleasant warmth over her body and the land as she made her way back to the camp.
It had been surprisingly easy, so far from home. Far from the disapproval of her mother and Yorwen, the idiocy of Gil. It had gotten easier when Mora helped her build her own yurt. It was to that low-slung spiderweb of wood with a leather roof that she now returned. Ducking under the tent flap, she found Mora preparing food. Sulis couldn’t help but smile as she hefted her basket onto the low table. Well, split log if she was being honest. The furs she’d tanned using Tahda’s methods sat sprawled over the ground, leaving a warm interior that surrounded the fire pit.
“I brought your favourite.” Sulis indicated toward the berries while placing the bones into the stock bag. Mora had been keeping it going, hanging from one of the spars of the tent. Apparently, soup made with stock water was better than soup made with river water. She couldn’t taste much of a difference, if she were honest with herself. Apparently, it was her ‘farmer tongue’. She was very quickly told where she could stick the farmer’s tongue. It hadn’t worked out as planned, since Mora now lived in her tent.
“The bush they came from must have been very dangerous.” Mora quipped sarcastically as she enfolded several hot stones into a fur pouch before depositing them in the stock bag to simmer. “When you left this morning, you looked like a warrior rather than a hunter.” She continued as she indicated to the bow Sulis had carved from the strange new trees they had in the south. It was pleasantly pliant, springy. The gut string she’d twisted sent stone-tipped arrows straight into the birds on the cliffs, providing them all with hearty meats.
“I’m a better warrior than spirit-speaker.” Sulis shrugged as she tended the fire, withdrawing several dry logs. She’d had a lot of trouble hewing these ones. Her axe wasn’t nearly long enough for the power it needed. She resolved to make a new one after Mora’s grandmother showed up with more lessons. “I’m not so good I’d be able to kill a bear though. One’s living in a cave up on the cliffs, I think.” She indicated with a thumb over her shoulder to the cliffs that stood above them. They’d provided good shelter from the wind that whipped over the grasslands. Only a marginal risk of rockslides killing them all.
“Bears don’t usually come this far north.” Mora pursed her lips as she cast an eye toward the south. They’d returned there recently, noticing that the land they’d used as a bridge was slowly being consumed by the tides. The tribe had asked their chief what was going to happen. Far, far into the future, long after they were dust, the land they stood on would be sea. The land of Sulis’ birth would be cut from the south. She shivered at the thought of such cataclysm, happy that she would not live to see it.
“The world is changing. It has been since before we were born. The summers warm, the sea rises.” Sulis comforted her comrade, rubbing her shoulder. “We’ve only seen twenty summers apiece, or thereabouts. No use worrying after something we can’t prevent.”
“Like the Sky Father’s victory? Seems more and more people reject the spirits. But they say this is necessary. It must happen.” Mora retorted, eyes moving to the totem that sat in the corner of their tent. Her companion, Puck, had been incredibly gloomy lately. It was only to be expected as a nature spirit, Sulis reasoned.
“You ever think the spirits are only after their own path?” Sulis pondered as she chopped some roots for the broth. Her knife was well made, if she said so herself. She had a knack for napping the flints, it seemed. “A lot of their decisions seem to hurt us fleshy creatures.” She pointed her knife to the totem, knowing full well that Puck had told them to camp at this place. Under a cliff surrounded by dangerous animals.
“Try not to blaspheme around my grandmother. But yes. The spirits only ever speak half-truths and riddles, hoping to direct us to their design.” Mora reprimanded with a naughty grin, taking her already finished vegetables to the stock bag. “They need us more than we need them though. And we must trust that keeps them in check.” She reassured, though whether it was herself or Sulis she couldn’t tell. As they sat to wait for their meal, the dark-haired of the pair felt fingers snake into her own. She blushed and turned her face away but allowed the contact regardless. “Look at you. Giant of a woman. Era must have fed you well.” Mora purred affectionately, eyeing up Sulis’ prodigious height.
Even sat down, she was an imposing figure. Sulis stood head and shoulders over Mora, equal to or superior to the height of many men. Corded with muscle from the hunts and climbs she had to do every day, she often parted crowds in camp like a boat through water. Mora by comparison was still the slight woman who focused more on spiritual pursuits than anything else. Often were the times when Sulis had to remind her to eat, to go outside and feel the sun. Mora was the first person who’d not treated her as a burden.
“The men give me the organs. They think if they eat the muscles, they become muscly.” Sulis explained her bulk with a wry grin before tapping her nose. “But I know that the organs are the good parts. Father always said so. Mother was a really good cook, whatever else she may have been.” She pursed her lips as she recalled her mother’s reaction to her leaving. There were tears, demands she stay as expected. But there were also condemnations, accusations toward Mora and shouts of heresy. Yorwen had stoked that flame and it was Sulis’ fervent hope the old git had passed into the arms of his favourite god when they returned. But that was years from now, she reminded herself with relief.
Mora helped to serve their meal with clay bowls in hand as her grandmother made her entrance. As was custom, they bowed their heads and offered her food. The older woman accepted their offer, unusually. As she took a bowl of thickened stew, she ate with her hands rather than the forked sticks the younger generations had taken to using. Sulis ate with her flint knife. An artifact of her upbringing. They ate in uncharacteristic silence, save for the polite questions one would usually ask of their guest. Mora’s mother and father were busy catching fish, taking full advantage of the new coastline. They had memorably complained about no grandchildren when they suspected Mora’s preferences. Chief Rella had ominously informed them that Sulis would have many children, though not by any man.
“Your lessons proceed slowly for one chosen by the spirits.” Rella complained after they’d set aside their bowls for the time being. Mora fussily poured water to prevent the stains hardening first, though. She glowered at her grandmother.
“Respectfully, Chief, you haven’t been the most enthusiastic teacher.” Sulis replied coolly, which the old woman accepted without comment, strangely. She looked over the older woman with a critical eye, thinking back on their lessons. She’d learned more from Mora’s secret lessons than her grandmother’s direct teaching. “Why do you dread my tutelage so much?”
“The spirits showed me the path you will walk. There will be pain.” Rella sighed after a considerable pause, taking one of the totems that hung from her belt and gazing at it morosely. It was a bone carved with her runes of vision, about the size of a femur. Though it wasn’t a human bone by the looks of it. “This is the burden of one who sees the future. To know the suffering before it comes. I don’t wish to see you hurt. But the spirits will it, and I must obey.” She continued while staring into the middle distance, as if remembering a snippet of her own life. Being so long-lived, without illness or incident claiming her, was a mixed blessing Sulis thought. She did not suffer the end, but bore the weight of her life for longer.
“I chose this, Rella.” Sulis comforted the older woman with what she hoped were kind eyes. The use of her name drew a look of annoyance but was replaced by an acknowledgement of the gesture. “I’m a woman grown. The choices I make are mine to bear.” She continued. Rella’s eyes flicked to Mora briefly before getting to her feet with a groan of pain. Her granddaughter raced over to assist, only to be waved off. Sulis understood the sentiment; nobody wanted to feel infirm.
As the sun made its way to the horizon, Rella guided the pair toward the cliffs. She walked with a shuffling gait, old bones taking their toll of agony as she moved. She refused help, even as she struggled over rocks that had fallen in their path. Sulis and Mora waited patiently as she panted and bargained with the spirits to give her strength. The strong woman doubted very much that creatures as capricious as them would grant so small a request. Whether they did or not, the master and her students eventually found their way to the top of the cliff where several cairns had been erected by the spirit-speakers who’d come before them.
Rella continued past these cairns, pointing with a gnarled finger toward an artificial rise that had been constructed of laid stones. The trees that surrounded them seemed to close in, casting everything in a hazy greenish light broken only by shafts of orange dusk. Mora clutched her totem fearfully, hoping the carved shell would summon Puck to aid her. Even Sulis, who was not a great speaker by any means, could feel the presence of spirits. They flitted between the trees at the edge of perception, unable to manifest as more than the ghostly voices and taunts that dogged their path to the barrow. Whoever had commanded such respect for their burial must have been a true force of nature. Their progress was made all the more creepy as Sulis spied the empty sockets of mossy skulls staring out from the undergrowth.
“I’m not easily scared. But this place prickles my spine.” Sulis whispered to her chief, who suppressed a laugh and nodded in response. She placed a hand on an ossified entryway that stood over an ominous hollow in the barrow. The bones of its construction untangled, disgorging themselves from a gate into an archway. Sulis looked to Mora, who nodded with a nervous determination. She muttered prayers, fingers tracing the lines of her tattoos.
The barrow was the perfect size for the stooped Rella and petite Mora while Sulis found herself almost bent double trying to move through the grim hall of white stone. As they moved, they passed the bones of their ancestors adorned in shells and carefully carved figurines.
Eventually they arrived at their destination with the chieftain coming to an abrupt stop. The chamber ahead of them was constructed of the same eerie white stone, a rough rotting timber framework holding the turf above them as an improvised, if dank, roof. Within the room an alter of wood and bone had been constructed with a deer skull leering atop it. Sulis straightened to her full height, eyes taking in the designs painted on the walls. They reminded her of the tribe’s tattoos, all swirling designs reminiscent of the currents of water. The dark-haired woman turned to her lover with inquisitive eyes, though Mora had no answers to give. The look of fear was more than enough to set her on edge.
Rella knelt and began to strike her flint against a strange rock, extracting sparks. With a gentle breath, several fires came to life as ancient torches received their fuel. She moved to the offering bowl, placing several mushrooms and flowers within it before moving back with a grave expression. She directed Sulis to sit upon a low stone bench that appeared to be a rough-hewn boulder. It too was painted with designs, she noted as she sat herself down.
“It is clear that nothing of the forest or rivers want a bargain with you.” The chieftain began as she waved a hand. The torches turned an eerie blue colour as the spirits came into their presence. Ancestors and animus, creatures without a name from the deepest caverns of the spirit world would be able to see those flames and contact her. Were they truly so desperate? This was dangerous even with a teacher. “I have sent my familiars to find the one who asks for you. They will be here shortly. Come, Mora.” Rella ordered as she began moving toward the exit. Both younger women peppered her with questions and protests, only to be silenced by their chief’s palm. Mora gave her lover a lingering stare before following her grandmother from the room, which remained cold even with the presence of six flames.
Sulis shifted herself to sit cross-legged upon the rock, clearing her mind of all thoughts as instructed. It was her choice, after all. She had to live with it. In this state, she was an empty bowl in a rainstorm. She would collect the errant creatures of the otherworld, allowing their voices to permeate her mind. Her eyes were closed to prevent worldly distraction, her breathing slowed and methodical. She felt the touch of many spirits, questing and curious as they went about their business. Sulis paid them no mind; they would not encroach on her if she didn’t bother them. In this state, she fell from time and feeling. Her mind was the sole domain of her spirit when it turned to this purpose.
She perceived its presence long before she saw it in her mind’s eye. It was testing, cautious as its voice entered her thoughts. Its brushing touch was cold but strangely alluring. Almost like the ocean itself. It invited thoughts of boundless exploration, gifts and bounty aplenty if one were prepared to learn how to receive them. But like the sea, it had a darkness beneath the surface that frightened her. A drowning, weighty power that unsettled even the stilled mind of a speaker.
“How long I have waited to receive you in this, my chamber.” It hissed in a sibilant feminine voice. Though it sounded human, almost reassuring, Sulis reminded herself that the creature wasn’t like her. It did not think, feel or understand the world as she did. “You have entered my hall, my rest and asked of me nothing. How unlike the others you are. I sense a reluctance, a forbearance of your own design.” It spoke with a higher register, almost archaic version of her own language. That fact alone drove a spike into her stomach as she realised what it was. It seemed to feel her understanding as the voice closed in, using her own senses to impart its proximity to her. “Yes. In life, I was consumed by the study of death. I devoured the spirits who refused to serve. In so doing, I became that which I subjugated. This ignominy weighs greatly upon me.” The creature explained itself readily, perhaps too readily for Sulis’ liking. She recoiled from the creature’s whispers, grappling with her fear momentarily before a steadying breath gave her the strength to at least talk to it.
“You sent for me. Made Rella teach me. Why?” She asked with the voice of her mind and throat in unison. She disturbed the world of the living deliberately.
“I knew you before you drew your first breath, Sulis.” It whispered, an almost maternalistic caress running over her cheek. She suppressed a shiver as she realised what calibre of monster she dealt with. “All souls that yearn call to me. In their cries I hear my own pleas, my desperate imploring. In their rage, I hear my drive, my gifts. Gifts I would impart to you.” The creature invited with a sinister air, almost as if it knew her thoughts before she did.
“I’m not angry. I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.” Sulis countered defiantly, the image of Mora blossoming in her mind’s eye against the cold tendrils that made up this spirit’s mind. It looked over her appreciatively, radiating pride and a subtle contentment. But the note of sadness that followed sounded like a thunderstorm in a dark night. She felt her breath catch and her stomach tighten. “You won’t convince me with the shadows of what could be.” The dark-haired woman growled. She was half tempted to sever the connection in that moment. The creature’s momentary desperation was all that stayed her hand.
“A branch that falls does not do so because of what will be. It falls because of what came before. Its place on the forest floor is inevitable.” The creature tried to reason with her, almost cajoling. “You will accept me not because you trust me. You will ask for my power because you will need it. And I shall give it. Because you will do my wonders. You will destroy everything you love because the core of your being you are dissatisfied.” The creature lectured with infuriating confidence, sending Sulis visions of a future she could not comprehend. Great empires and men sheathed in shining armour marching across continents. Plumes of smoke rising from a cold, grey world. A world of bones, of death cannibalizing itself to purchase another dawn. And another. Until there were no more bones to gnaw. “You will accept me because your affections will never outweigh your fear.” It concluded with a confident, almost cruel laugh. It had feigned weakness to entice her, only to punch her in the gut with the truth.
“No more!” Sulis cried with her mind and throat, flinging herself from the stone and onto the muddy ground below. “No more.” She whimpered, sorrow overtaking her as Mora’s voice drifted in from the outside world. Dread filled her.
