R. Salvatore - The Ancient

“She is calm and flat this day, but never too much so,” Toniquay replied. “Mithranidoon is a blessing, storm or still.”

He was replying to Canrak, but Androosis knew that the nasty old shaman had aimed those words his way. Toniquay knew well of Androosis’s friendship with Milkeila, and he had led the outrage against her those weeks before when she had dared suggest an expedition to the shores beyond Mithranidoon. Subsequent to Milkeila’s bold suggestion, it was no secret that the tribal elders had purposely carved up the tasks to keep the suspected conspirators apart. In fact some of those elders, like Toniquay, had been boasting of their wisdom quite openly. When the five had boarded the boat this morning, Toniquay had whispered to Androosis that “this is where you will learn the truth. Not in the wandering hopes of a young woman frustrated because she has found no willing lover among her peers.”

Androosis had let the ridiculous insult to Milkeila pass without response, something that still weighed on his proud shoulders. But he didn’t want a fight with Toniquay-certainly not! Because on Yossunfier, there could be no such fight. The structure of Androosis’s people, Yan Ossum, was akin to that of all the Alpinadoran tribes. Elders carried great weight and respect, with the older shamans being the top of the hierarchy, second only to the Pennervike, the Great Leader of Yan Ossum, himself.

“Do you believe that we are wasting our time out here, friend Androosis?” Toniquay asked, catching the young man off-guard. He turned to view the smug shaman, and found four sets of eyes staring hard at him.

“A time on Mithranidoon is never wasted, master,” Androosis obediently replied, and turned away.

“Well spoken!” Toniquay congratulated, and then in more solemn and dire tones he added, “Do you truly believe that?”

She felt the roiling lava far below her bare feet, but she did not summon it to her this day. For Milkeila had no duties to attend at that time and was utilizing her magical bond with the earth for no better reason than to remind herself of her powers-magical energy considered quite proficient among her shaman peers and elders. The woman needed that reassurance at this time, for she had seen Androosis board the boat with Toniquay that morning. Milkeila was no fool; she understood the significance of Toniquay’s unusual trip out to Mithranidoon.

A handful of Milkeila’s friends had joined her in shared fantasies of leaving Mithranidoon, a wanderlust sparked by the arrival of the Abellican monks three years earlier. To that point, none of them had even known that a wider world existed beyond the shores of Mithranidoon, not one inhabited by other men, at least.

It had mostly been idle chatter, of course, teenage restlessness. To Milkeila, though, there had run a string of honesty in that chatter. She wanted to see the wider world! Her relationship with Cormack had only strengthened that desire, of course, since it could never be an open marriage here on Mithranidoon-the elders, particularly surly Toniquay, would never allow such a thing!

The six conspirators had let the matter drop for more than a year and had relegated the plan to a far-distant place when Milkeila had surprised them all by reviving it only a couple of months previous.

The young shaman had recognized her mistake almost immediately. She and her friends were all coming of age now, soon to be celebrated as full adult members of Yan Ossum, and youthful fancies had been lost to more serious responsibilities. Milkeila held no doubts that at least one of the six, Pennerdar, had run to the elders with the news, and while the elders had not confronted her directly, she had noticed the extra glances, none favorable, Toniquay often tossed her way. Oh, but he had given her a fine glower that very morning, right before he had summoned Androosis to join him in the fishing.

“Androosis,” Milkeila mused aloud. The sound of her own voice broke her concentration and connection to the earth power far below. Of course it was Androosis singled out for Toniquay’s special trip onto Mithranidoon, for he alone had shown some interest when Milkeila had suggested a journey to the world beyond the lake.

Milkeila took a deep breath and unconsciously glanced to the southeast, toward Chapel Isle, fully obscured by the mists. With renewed focus the shaman reached deep into the hot powers flowing below the lake. She lifted her hand to fondle the secret gemstone necklace, seeking the added power there. A sense of urgency gripped her; if she could unlock the secrets of the stones, if she could find a way to blend their powers with her own, then perhaps she would find some answers to the questions she knew Toniquay would eventually throw her way.

The power tickled her but would not come true. She could not join the magic as she had joined her soul to Cormack. She spent many minutes straining until she felt the shaman magic flowing through her powerfully, begging for release as if it would simply consume her flesh and blood. At that moment of magical climax, Milkeila reached into the gemstones…

Nothing.

Earth magic burst from her form, a sudden and flashing gout of flame rushing out in a small circle around her. Several leaves curled and crisped, and wisps of smoke rose from the ground in the aftermath.

Milkeila stood there gasping, both physically and emotionally drained. She looked around at the circle of destruction and shook her head, recognizing that it was no more than she could summon at any time. She brought the gemstone necklace to her lips and kissed it, thinking of Cormack, of the promises they had shared. She knew in her heart that they were not so different, these religions of earth and gemstone. And she believed, as Cormack believed, that the greater answers lay in the joining, in the whole.

If ever they could get there.

Milkeila looked back out at the lake, in the direction where Toniquay and Androosis had gone, and her stomach churned with doubts and fear.

Androosis turned back to regard the man and started to respond but bit it back, seeing that there was no compromise here, that Toniquay was goading him into open admissions that could be used to further split apart the group of young conspirators. If Androosis answered correctly here, then no doubt Milkeila would feel the weight of that response. If he did not, Toniquay would use it as further proof that the young adults of Yan Ossum were running wild and contrary to the traditions that had kept the people thriving for generations untold.

So Androosis said nothing.

“Tend the lines,” Toniquay ordered him, not blinking an eye.

“They’ve nothing on them,” Canrak said from the back, but Toniquay still did not blink.

“Bring them in, then,” the old shaman said. “Let us learn if we can waste our time more productively.”

Androosis studied Toniquay for a long moment, and still the old and withered man did not blink. Did Toniquay ever blink? Would he die with his eyes wide, and remain like that through eternity under the cold ground?

Androosis moved deliberately, finally, past the sloshing trout and between the oarsmen. He purposely focused on the back of the boat as he passed Toniquay, for he could feel the shaman’s eyes boring into him, every step.

Canrak quietly laughed at him, but he ignored the fool-everyone on Yossunfier thought that one a fool-and methodically began hauling in the long lines.

Before they were even aboard, Toniquay motioned for the two men before him to dip their paddles. “Bring us right, half a turn,” the shaman ordered Canrak.

Canrak nodded and grabbed the rudder, but paused and looked at Toniquay curiously. “Half right?”

“Half right.”

“Yossunfier’s left and back.”

“Do you think me too stupid to know that?”