The Rings of Hesaurun Read online

  “It’s about time,” she explained. “I am going to turn the clock back to the time before your injury occurred. Just your shoulder, mind you; it won’t be like what I did with Cresson. You may not have caught it, but everyone on the bridge was duplicated for an instant because of the time warp—except you. There’s no need to send your entire body back in time. Do you understand?”

  Guyidian nodded again but didn’t understand. How could there be two of him or anyone else? It made no sense. Although what she said about manipulating time explained a lot, including how she made entire fleets of Boeckian ships disappear on command.

  “Good,” she whispered. “Let’s get to work then.”

  As Guyidian stared into her eyes, those transparent pools of darkness seemed to disappear, replaced by an all-encompassing warmth he felt all the way to his bones. Guyidian felt beads of sweat popping out on his forehead, and his heart pounded in anticipation. At once the arm felt heavy, then light again, as if it no longer existed. There was a floating sensation for a moment, then nothing. It was done. When he began to feel the limb again, it felt normal. The experience was over in a matter of seconds.

  Although thankful for being healed, especially by The Ring Bearer, a small part of him was disappointed. Guyidian knew it was silly, but he hoped to experience the air wavering and glowing and shimmering about as he’d seen when she healed Cresson. So far as he could tell, it hadn’t happened, which was a small letdown. He wondered why it had to be different for him. He decided the difference must be a matter of perspective. Rather than being on the outside looking in, he had been on the inside looking out.

  “How do you feel?” the healer probed.

  “Perfect. It’s great, thank you,” Guyidian gushed while rubbing the mended limb as a demonstration of its renewed vigor.

  “Are we free to go now, Commander?”

  “Of course,” Guyidian agreed, “but you are going to need protection. Give us a few minutes to put together a security escort for you.”

  “Commander, I will be taking Mister Tohm with me and going out of the cargo dock,” she said, raising her eyebrows as if her request was negotiable.

  But Guyidian knew better and frowned, aware her request did not include a question. The only question requiring an answer was whether or not he cared enough to argue with her about it. He wasn’t in the mood for it, so he gave up trying to keep the outing as simple as possible.

  “Alright,” he shrugged, “but keep it quick, and don’t take any chances. We don’t know what’s out there. And return as soon as possible. As soon as we have a damage assessment and have made repairs, we are leaving.”

  “Yes, sir,” she said with a wry smile.

  Guyidian knew her well enough to know she had more on her mind than merely stopping by to say hello to the natives. She’s keeping something from me. But what? He couldn’t know her real intentions or what secrets she kept hidden from him, but things always seemed to work out for her, so he let her go without argument. What Guyidian didn’t tell her was that the very moment she left the bridge he intended to take-additional steps to ensure her safety. Her safety was his job description, which he took very seriously.

  “Hafian,” Valerie ordered, “get changed into cold-weather gear. I’m going outside and you’re coming with me. See you on the loading dock in twenty minutes.”

  Tohm nodded, then left the bridge with her. Guyidian followed them with his eyes until they were gone.

  “That woman has something up her sleeve,” he suspiciously remarked, then pushed a button on his console. “Security, The Ring Bearer, Mister Tohm, and two armed guards will be disembarking from the dock in twenty minutes. I want your two best men on this. The moment the doors close I want an additional squad of four men standing by. Is that clear?”

  “Affirmative,” the security chief acknowledged.

  Thoughtfully Guyidian rubbed his chin. “I’m telling you, that woman has something up her sleeve,” he repeated to the bridge staff. “I want weapons charged, and every monitor on the ship watching their every move. If so much as a snowball flies out there—open fire. No questions asked—got it?”

  A chorus of “yes sir’s” immediately followed. His point made, Guyidian scanned the exterior monitors, his eyes remaining grim.

  When Valerie appeared on the cargo dock, she was more than well prepared for cold weather. She wore a thick coat, insulated pants, boots, a fur hat, and lined gloves. She also had two heavy bags and an animal carrier, which produced questioning looks and more than a few smirks.

  “How long are you planning to stay out there?” Tohm inquired, puzzling at the bags and carrier. Peering inside, he noticed her big tomcat Orson purring as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

  “Oh, I thought I would bring them a few gifts, that’s all.”

  “Really? Why the cat then?” Tohm said, gesturing to the animal in the carrier. “Is he some kind of peace offering?”

  “Orson? Oh, he asked to come along, so I said alright, as long as he stays in the carrier.”

  Tohm rolled his eyes. “Why do I believe that?” he said.

  “You asked,” Valerie said with a chuckle.

  “I should have known better,” he retorted.

  When the cargo doors opened, freezing air blasted them in the face, sucking their breath away. Swirling snowflakes filled the air as they walked down the ramp, followed closely by two well-armed guards. Once on the ground, they made their way around to the port side of the ship. In the distance was a small shelter, its coverings flapping in the wind, a light thread of smoke emanating from a fold in the roof.

  “That shelter is barely large enough for two people. How did they ever fit a fire in there?” Tohm shouted over the wind, not expecting an answer. Drawing nearer, they saw it was a well-built shelter of animal skins, a stack of firewood by its side.

  Upon reaching the campsite, Valerie signaled with a hand for all to sit a few feet away from the tent, then called out in an unfamiliar language. How can she know what language they speak here? Tohm wondered. Valerie surprised him so often he’d made it his policy never to miss an opportunity to be at her side. Still, how could she possibly know the language of this planet?

  Valerie waited for a response but nothing happened, so she called again, using the same strange tongue. A moment later a boy stuck his head out of the tent. The boy’s eyes widened at the sight of them; four strangers sitting together huddled against the wind. She watched his eyes darting back and forth between the guards, Tohm, and herself.

  The boy stared long and hard at Hafien Tohm, the Praxian, no doubt questioning what he saw there. Tohm’s yellow skin tone, strikingly large blue eyes, and hairless face was not expected. But then his gaze settled on her, and immediately she knew why. It was always the same, something she had come to expect. And when his mouth fell open in wonder, she knew the boy had noticed her eyes and that he was afraid.

  ________________________

  Inside the tent, Tierney was startled to hear a woman’s voice call his name. Who could it be? Who knew where he was other than his mother and father? But he was looking at his father, who was barely alive, and he was sure he hadn’t heard his mother’s familiar voice. Then he heard it again, a woman’s voice crying out his name.

  The boy slowly stuck his head out of a tent flap and was surprised to find four very strange people there, a woman and three men. Two of those men appeared to be soldiers, but they seemed fairly unremarkable other than their distinctive uniforms. However, the other two, a yellow man and a tall woman, had his heart racing.

  The yellow man had him questioning his sight. Was the blowing snow and wind playing tricks on his eyes? He was reasonably sure two of the men were soldiers, but he was uncertain about the yellow one. He guessed he was looking at a man, but he had never seen or heard of anyone so unusual. The yellow skin, hairless head, and unusually large blue eyes peered at him unblinkingly, sending shivers down Tierney’s spine.

  These strange people
were unlike any he had ever seen. Although they carried bags with them, he didn’t see them as travelers or hunters, and they definitely were not clansmen. Tierney guessed the yellow man must be very sick. What else could cause one to turn yellow? The woman that called him by name greeted him with a disarming smile, but those dark eyes drove him back inside to the safety of the tent.

  “Son, who is outside, and how do they know your name?” Pearse croaked out, his voice feeble, barely audible over the howling wind and flapping tent skins.

  “Father, there is an old woman and three soldiers out there. But the woman is the leader. She is scary,” the wide-eyed boy exclaimed.

  “There are three soldiers out there, and you tell me you’re afraid of the old woman?”

  Tierney saw his father’s meaning, but that didn’t change what he saw or how he felt about it. In his mind, he had good reason for fearing the woman who knew his name. I assume she must be a spirit or an ancestor returned from the dead. How else could she know my name? And what of the yellow man? How can I tell father about him? He won’t believe me, Tierney thought.

  “Hello, Tierney?” they heard the mysterious woman call again. “Please come out and speak to us! We aren’t going to hurt you!”

  “Son,” Pearse said weakly, “if they were here to hurt us, they wouldn’t ask to talk.”

  “Yes, father,” the boy said, suddenly embarrassed by his fear. Once he had gathered his courage, Tierney stood determined to act like a man even if he wasn’t. The boy put on his war face, shoved his father’s big hunting knife in his belt, then exited the tent with a confident stride. Then Tierney seated himself directly in front of the strange old woman with dead eyes and tried to look dangerous.

  “Who are you, and why are you here?” the boy demanded, his adolescent put-on mask of courage glaringly obvious to the visitors.

  Valerie stifled a smirk as she watched the boy with his hand on the hilt of a big knife, trying to appear as threatening as he could manage.

  “My name is Valerie, and these are my friends,” she offered, gesturing to the others. “Your father is hurt,” she said cocking her head in a challenging way, “and I am here to help him.”

  Tierney studied the old woman carefully as he considered her words. She seemed to have noticed his unease about the soldier’s presence. The old woman called them “friends,” he thought, but that didn’t mean they weren’t dangerous. And he wasn’t about to take her word for it. He needed more information.

  “Are you travelers?”

  “We’re from the ship,” she said, gesturing at The Dreamer for emphasis. “We saw your father is hurt. I am a healer. I am here to help him.”

  “What is a ship?” asked Tierney, well-aware that shipmust be her word for the big glass fish that hit the ground hard that morning.

  “That,” the old woman said, pointing again at The Dreamer. ”It’s like a flying boat. Do you know what a boat is?”

  “Sure,” Tierney said, “we see boats at the summer gatherings, but I never saw one made of glass, and I never saw one that big!” he added, pointing at the ship with a wide grin. Valerie was happy to see that the boy seemed to be warming up to her.

  “You are Tierney; is that correct, young man?”

  “Yes, Tierney,” he said, savoring the fact that the woman had referred to him as a man, although he knew that he wouldn’t be a man for another two summers. Nevertheless, she made him feel like a man the way she said it, and he liked that.

  “Tierney, I am here to help Pearse, your father. He is sick. I am a healer. I can help him,” Valerie repeated.

  Tearney stiffened when he heard the woman call his father by name. How is that possible? he wondered. “How do you know our names?” he countered.

  “Old people know stuff.” A look of melancholy shaded the old woman’s face, then she continued. “May I go in to see your father?”

  Old people know stuff? What does that mean? Tierney thought, suddenly filled with dread. I am not a child, I know about the Cailleach Bhéara—witch! We have never seen these people or their big glass fish before, but they already know our names? How can that be? I am not about to allow that witch near my father until I am satisfied these travelers are what they claim to be!

  I have plenty to worry about, thought Tierney,fingering the handle of his father’s knife. First, this big glass fish crashes to Earth then my father is badly injured by it. Suddenly these strange people appear, claiming to be here to heal my father? And yet this strange woman expects me to trust them? It’s all too much!

  Adead silence lay between the two of them. Tierney’s gut rumbled with fear. “I do not understand. Tell me, how do you know our names?” he asserted again, still gripping his father’s knife.

  “I’m sorry,” Valerie apologized, silently scolding herself for the slip-up. She should not have let on that she knew their names. Had she just confirmed in the boy’s mind that she was a witch? She decided to come at him from another angle.

  “We have an expression, ‘Old people know stuff.’ I was referring to the wisdom of the elders. You understand the wisdom of the elders—yes?”

  Tierney narrowed his eyes. Slowly he nodded.

  “Do your people have elders?”

  Tierney nodded again.

  “I am an elder among my people, and I know many things that others do not know, including your names,” Valerie explained. She knew her explanation was lame, but it was the best she could come up with on short notice and hoped the boy would buy it.

  Tierney still fingered his father’s knife but slowly began to relax. He still was not satisfied with her answer but was eager to see if the old woman could help his father. Pearse was unable to move anything below his neck and struggled to breathe. Even though his father was alive, their family was sure to starve if he remained in his present condition.

  Tierney saw no other choice. If there was any chance she could help his father, he knew he had no option other than to accept.

  “I will ask him first,” Tierney told her, then went back inside the shelter eager to report back to his father.

  Tierney shared with Pearse the conservation he had with the woman but purposely left out two key points: these visitors claimed to be from inside the glass fish, and the mysterious old woman already knew their names. Despite their odd appearance and that the woman was probably the Cailleach, he didn’t want to take the chance that his father might find a reason to refuse the offer. Tierney needed it, he needed hope that his father could be healed and didn’t care how or who did it. Sure it was a gamble, but it was one he was willing to take.

  Well aware of what was at stake, Pearse nodded his approval. He was in serious trouble if his condition didn’t change, and soon. Unless he recovered fully, his family would suffer, so he was anxious to see if this strange woman could heal him.

  “Father said for you to come in,” Tierney called from the tent to the old woman. “But I will stay outside because there is only room for two.”

  Quietly Valerie entered the smokey tent. She knelt beside Pearse without speaking. His was a patriarchal society, so she waited for the man to speak first.

  Pearse studied the old woman closely, taking in her every detail before speaking. A sudden chill rushed through him; now he understood why the boy feared her. Tierney had been correct in his description. He agreed with the boy; her eyes were precisely that—scary. In his estimation, her long silver hair and eyes as dark as midnight pools marked her as the Bhéara. He had no reservations about that. But Pearse found nothing threatening about her other than her appearance. He didn’t believe she was a threat, just a witch.

  “Woman,” he croaked. “You are the Cailleach Bhéara, yes?”

  “I am a healer,” asserted the old crone. “My name is Valerie; I am here to help you. Tell me what happened.”

  Pearse wasted no time in telling her his story. “It was the glass fish,” he said. “I touched it, and it bit me. Now I cannot move.”

  “I know.” The witch sa
id soothingly. “May I touch you now?” she asked, her wrinkled hand hovering over him, anticipating his response. But he didn’t answer.

  I know? thought Pearse. How does she know? The Bhéara wasn’t there when the glass fish bit me. How could she know what happened to me? The only way she could know what happened was if she did what only the Cailleach Bhéara can do—something evil. With this realization, fear overcame Pearse. He wanted to leap to his feet, grab Tierney, and run away. The thought of being touched by a witch was now more than he could bear.

  Staring at the hovering hand, Pearse shook his head. “No!” he pleaded, his voice frayed and eyes wild with fear. “Don’t touch me—Bhéara!”

  “It’s alright—don’t be afraid,” whispered Valerie. “I only wanted to help you relax,” she reasoned with Pearse, holding both hands up where he could see them. “Don’t worry. I don’t need to touch you to heal you,” she promised.

  You don’t need to touch me to heal me? What kind of witchcraft is this? Pearse’s eyebrows raised, and he relaxed just a little bit. But he didn’t take his eyes off the old woman for a moment. He was afraid to blink.

  “I can show you; you don’t even have to close your eyes. Just watch and it will be done in a moment. It’s easy. Then you can walk again,” the witch said soothingly. She waited patiently for Pearse’s answer as he weighed his options.

  Pearse felt pulled in two different directions. I hate the thought of being touched by the Bhéara, he realized. People say they worship evil spirits, that they eat children and should be killed. This one looks like the Bhéara but claims to be a healer. What can I believe? Can she be trusted?

  Immediately he pushed those thoughts aside. My life is over—unless I can walk again, my family will surely starve! I cannot move or feel anything below my neck. But this woman who claims to be a healer has been delivered to my doorstep. Do I turn her away? Or do I believe she tells the truth? Does it matter? I might be dead either way!