Alys Clare - Out of the Dawn Light

I could hear the drama in my voice and I’m sure I stood up a little straighter, raising my chin like the brave heroine I was. I fully expected one or all of them to say, Oh, no, Lassair, you can’t possibly do this frightful thing, it is far, far too much to ask of you , but nobody said a word.

I began to feel very frightened.

Then Hrype said, as calmly as if he were discussing how to cook some new dish, ‘I once saw it done. It is quite possible to do it and come to little or no harm.’

I wondered how little was little.

Edild was nodding. ‘I too have heard tell of people walking the fire and not suffering hurt. Tell us, please, Hrype, what you saw.’

He frowned into the distance for a few moments, his light grey eyes unfocused, as if assembling the memory. Then he said, ‘It was in the far north, when I was learning with the shamans.’ The far north of where? I wondered. And what were shamans? It did not sound like anything that happened or was rumoured to happen in my own land and I realized, with a shiver of wonder, that Hrype must mean the far north of the strange land far away over the sea and he must have travelled back to the place from which his people had once come. .

‘There was grave trouble in the community,’ he was saying, ‘for the Sun had withdrawn his strength and the waters of the cold seas were threatening to engulf the lands, so that the reindeer would no longer roam and the people would starve. The shamans held a great ceremony to honour the Sun and his element of fire. They built a vast fire pit and one by one a hundred shamans walked across the live coals. They chanted as they went, mixing their energy with that of the fire, sending their praise into the night sky where the Sun had withdrawn into the darkness. They gave everything they had as they prayed for healing for their community, and their sacrifice was rewarded. The Sun came back, the waters receded and the people grew healthy once more.’

He looked at me, a long look that I could not read. Then he said softly, ‘Not one of those hundred men and women suffered lasting harm. One or two were burned when a coal broke beneath their foot, but healers were standing by to help, giving comfort and relieving pain.’

After some time I tried to speak, but my mouth was dry. I swallowed and tried again. ‘How is it done?’ I whispered.

Hrype regarded me steadily. ‘By courage and by faith. Believe in what you are doing; believe that the task you perform is vital for the general good. Keep in mind that what you do is for the sake of others. Then your guides and helpers will come to your aid and protect you.’

‘I can have guides and helpers?’ I asked eagerly, then realized, feeling foolish, that he had been referring to the guardian spirits.

‘If you elect to do this thing, Lassair,’ came my aunt’s cool voice, ‘Hrype and I will assist you. We will walk alongside you on either side of the pit. We will encourage you.’

She meant it kindly, I knew, but it wasn’t their bare feet that were going to be on the coals.

‘I don’t know. .’ I murmured. Inside I was crying out desperately, Help me! Help me!

My aunt must have heard. Abandoning her detached tone she said with brisk urgency, ‘Lassair, you are fire and air. Remember?’

I thought back across the weeks and months to the day when she had explained my web of destiny. ‘Ye-es,’ I said slowly.

‘Fire needs air to burn, and so the two elements that make up your essence are fire’s own elements,’ she went on. ‘The fire will recognize that you are in sympathy with it. You will not be harmed.’ A lulling, hypnotic quality had subtly entered her voice. ‘You will not be harmed,’ she repeated, the words like a soft chant. ‘In the instant of your birth’ — she was almost singing now — ‘the Warrior God was in the fire sign of Aries, and he always acknowledges his own when they demonstrate great courage. He will protect you. You will not be harmed. ’

Now another, deeper voice blended with hers. Hrype, chanting with her, harmonizing with her, said, ‘We will help you. We will support you. We will assist you to raise up your energy until it is at such a peak that it matches that of the fire. The fire will recognize you and you will not be harmed.’

You will not be harmed.

You will not be harmed.

Again and again they repeated it until I felt my mind and my voice fall into step with theirs. ‘I will not be harmed,’ I repeated dreamily.

‘Picture your feet, strong like the toughest hide,’ said Edild.

‘Picture your calm, steady steps across the fire,’ said Hrype, ‘picture your peaceful, smiling face.’

‘See the soles of your feet’ — Edild again — ‘smooth, unblemished.’

‘Imagine your feet in boots of ice,’ sang Hrype, ‘safe from the fire, cool, protecting. You will not be harmed.’

‘You will not be harmed,’ they intoned together.

I believed them.

Some time later — I think they put me into a light trance, for afterwards I could not have explained quite how so much time had passed — I was aware of Froya’s anxious eyes. I looked at her. I felt full of love for her, Sibert’s sweet mother, and I wanted to hug her. I beamed at her, feeling the joyful smile spread to encompass my whole face, my whole being. I dropped to my knees in front of her and took her cold hands in my warm ones. I was fire and air; fire was my element. I would not be harmed. ‘Don’t worry any more,’ I said. I bent to kiss the backs of her hands. ‘Sibert won’t die.’ Another kiss, tiny, the lightest of touches. ‘I’ll do it.’

I would be lying if I said that my mood of serene acceptance lasted until the moment I set my bare feet on to the coals. It didn’t. All the rest of that day I suffered dreadful, confidence-sapping periods of doubt, especially when my parents, quietly informed by Edild what I was planning to do, came rushing round to her cottage to dissuade me.

My mother’s sobs were hard enough to bear. When I saw tears in my strong, brave father’s eyes, I was all but undone.

Edild saw this — of course she would — and took them outside. I heard their voices — my mother’s shrill with fear and horror, my father’s a quiet background boom — and then Edild spoke, dousing their horrified protests like cool water on the fire.

Fire.

I couldn’t stop thinking about fire.

Shortly afterwards Edild came back into the cottage. Her face was set firm as if any leeway that she permitted herself would allow the threatening emotions to take over. She said shortly, ‘Your parents have gone home, Lassair. I have explained that you are resolved to do this test and told them why. I have also said that their presence here could distract you and they have agreed to keep away.’

Oh! She was right, I knew she was; I had to fix my thoughts — my whole being — on the trial and, under the instruction of Edild and Hrype, I was working hard on developing a picture in my mind of my feet encased in those imaginary shoes made of thick ice. It was hard enough without having to face my mother’s anguished face and my father’s desperate need to save me from hurt.

‘Will they — will they be there tomorrow?’ My voice was little more than a croak.

Edild looked at me dispassionately, almost coldly. She was just then wholly the teacher, and I could detect nothing in her of the affectionate, funny aunt. I knew it had to be that way, but all the same it was hard. ‘They will stay inside their cottage,’ she said.

Because, she could have added, if they are watching and you know that they are, your concentration will be broken. We were both all too aware of what that would lead to.