Blind Druids and Deaf Warriors
The Conclave of Nal’asha village was the governing body of the Nalashi tribe. All disputes and decisions were sorted by the eight Conclave’s council members; each of them was head of different aspects of the tribe’s society. However, few Nalashi outside the inner circle knew the true identities of the council members. It’s said that when the Conclave would meet with a civilian, they would wear long velvet robes with hoods large enough to cover their faces. They kept their secrets close.
Many decades had passed since the war began between the Noszarel and Nalashi tribe. The Battlelord, whose power lorded over the warrior caste, was the most powerful Conclave member. He held a lot of sway over his kin and the tribe’s trust to ensure victory and survival. The Nalashi spoke of the council as if they were demi-gods. Their faces were unknown to the tribe but impacted their people’s futures in ways only the spirits could.
The three siblings travelled to the centre of their village to seek the Druid’s Den to receive blessings from the Wild Spirits before venturing to the Conclave. This was the way for a citizen to become a warrior initiate. The druids would invite the spirits to look deep into the aspiring warrior’s soul and conclude whether they would be worthy. Arrazanal believed it was a way to separate those who want to serve the tribe from those who want to annihilate the tribe’s enemies. She didn’t hold much hope for her brother.
They finally arrived at the den. It was the second largest building in the village, and most of it was held in place by several gigantic trees with budding emerald leaves ready to wake from the winter. The rest of the structure was made by talented Ezoni craftsmen: the roof was made from grey-violet stones cut from the various boulders around the forest, and intricate silvery filigree surrounded the roof’s edges. The many pillars holding the roof up were carved from tree trunks; there were no walls except for a few large glass windows with more silver filigree around their edges. Rich leather curtains were hooked along the pillars. Ezoni artists took inspiration from the peninsula’s nature and everything they crafted from buildings to small items was in homage to the beauty of their world.
The smell of salt struck Arrazanal’s nose. She looked to the edge of the village to see the shoreline of the blue ocean. There were several cargo ships and many more rowboats tied to the piers. She watched as fishermen dragged their catch to the wagons and warriors patrolled the piers. Her eye was caught by a few large warriors guarding several teenage Nalashi boarding a ship destined to the druidic schools on Emasaran Island, a land far away from Perishi Peninsula. They said that a warrior’s training paled to a druid. A prang of guilt struck Arrazanal as she realised few of those young Ezoni will be fortunate to see the peninsula again, and even fewer will ever see their families again. The tribe elders often spoke about her mother with adoration and sorrow in their voice, she had the mettle of a warrior and a heart of a druid. If that were true, then her mother wouldn’t have allowed the death of her partner to be hers, Arrazanal thought. If her mother knew that Dathazanal would be head of the household, then she would’ve kept fighting to live.
Her attention was snapped back as Dathazanal was the first to dismount from his black and violet spotted elk stallion. The creature bowed its head and began munching on the plump grass shoots that surrounded the den’s gardens.
“So, we’re going to receive the blessing from the spirits, and then we’re going to the Conclave. Don’t go picking flowers or going to the alchemist's shop until I say otherwise,” Dath said lifting a beautifully carved wooden chest from the elks back.
“Wouldn’t dream of it on a beautiful day like this,” Arrazanal said with heavy sarcasm in her voice as she and Zjel dismounted from their pale lavender horses.
“Don’t ruin this for me, Arr,” Dath said with quiet anger as he held the chest under his arm.
“Not now you two,” Zjel said walking up to the moss-covered steps into the den.
Dathazanal rushed to be before her, eager to meet with one of the druids meditating inside. The three walked around and across the great hall, where many druids sat cross-legged on amber and violet mats with burning incense beside them while others lay sleeping. Perhaps they were astral travelling, Arrazanal pondered.
“Isanel, druid, I seek the blessings from the Wild Ones,” Dath spoke to one of the meditating druids.
Her wrinkled eyes were closed; they appeared to have been so for uncounted hours. Her heavy leather robes hung loosely around body, and her ankle-length silver mane covered her shoulders and lap. Arrazanal noted that moss had been growing along her robes that gave a greenish tinge to them. Druids were a strange bunch.
“What do you have in that chest, boy?” the old female asked. Her voice was surprisingly youthful, yet patient. Arrazanal had wondered how the old druid knew what he was holding.
“It’s my offering to the spirits and to the Battlelord if he will take me,” Dath excitedly said.
“Ah, an aspiring warrior. But I meant in your chest, boy,” she said, her wrinkled brows shot up with her eyes still remaining shut.
“Pardon?” Dath asked perplexed.
The druid’s eyes finally opened. They were also a youthful colour violet. Her mouth stretched into a warm smile as she stood effortlessly from her mat.
“Isanel! How wonderful, the Azanal children have come to our humble den! What can the druids do for the three of you?” she said rubbing the heads and shoulders of the siblings.
“We’re here for Dath’s warrior initiation, honourable druid,” Zjel said matching the druid's smile.
“Honourable druid? Call me Larizinal, rosebud,” she said, patting Zjel on the head, “we don’t initiate warriors here, children, but we do seek the Wild Spirits’ blessings. Follow me,” she said gliding down the hall.
Dath and Arr quickly shared a look of confusion before following the eccentric elder. It was one of their few moments where their malcontent was absent. They wandered down the hall until they came to a spire made from living tree roots that connected various levels of the building which separated into rooms. They stopped at the first archway with a leathery curtain draped over it. The old female turned to the siblings.
“The three of you must remain here, I must go and speak with our Sleeping Speakers who are in direct contact with the Wild Ones. I’ll call you once they are ready to see you.” The druid disappeared behind the curtains while the three awkwardly waited for her return.
“Sleeping Speakers? Druids are so strange. I guess that’s what happens when you’re linked to the spirits all day; every day,” Dath said.
“What do you mean?” Zjel asked looking up to her brother.
“He means when some Ezoni are born, they can sense greater things than most others can. When their psionics discovered, they’re immediately shipped off to train as a druid, regardless of their feelings. That’s the law,” Arr said.
“That seems a bit harsh,” Zjel said quietly as she rubbed the scented flowers on her tunic.
“Well, that has been helping our tribe for countless centuries and protecting our warriors from harm. Feelings are damned,” Dath said.
“I heard that a druid’s training is so harsh that most die before their training is complete and when they do return home, they are forced to live in the den with other druids?” Zjel asked looking between her siblings.
“Yes, it is. If you’re discovered – a life of freedom is over. Mother was beloved enough to leave the druidic circles to marry father.” Arr said.
“Maybe if she had stayed in the circle and connected to the spirits, then father would still be here…like many of our kin.” Dath whispered under his breath and took a quick glance at Zjelazanal.
“At least the druids repaired the forest nicely,” Zjel said with a warm smile.
Arrazanal crossed her arms; she tried suppressing her nervousness in the den. Would they know she could also sense many things, too? For all she knew, her psionic power was equal to the others. She dreaded to be discovered; she wanted to be another normal person. Eager to change the subject, she glanced over to the chest in her brother’s arm.
“What’s your offering meant to be?” she asked.
“Father’s glass serrated whip. I’m hoping they won’t take it from me so I can use it against our enemies, it’s meant to be a metaphor,” he said tapping the chest.
“That’s our family heirloom! Something that father made himself when he was an initiate. He made it hoping to never actually use it – and never did. It’s too brutal,” Arr said astonished.
“Don’t be a norni weakling. We need it now more than ever. Things are getting worse between us and those savages. He made it for this time,” he said.
Arr pursed her lips as her foot began tapping against the roots. “What is taking them so long?”
“Spirits know, they’re probably too focused on finding out more on the missing villagers,” Dath said.
“Missing villagers?” Arr asked, but before she was given an answer, a few quiet voices could be heard from behind the thick curtains followed by some footsteps. They flung open to reveal Larizinal. Her face was not so bright and barely holding a smile. Arr sensed the old female’s reluctance.
“What’s the news? Can we begin?” Dath asked.
“To answer your second question: no. To answer your first question: the timing isn’t right.” she said rubbing her wrinkled hands together.
“Is this what the sleepers said? Why are they refusing me?” Dath’s voice was getting increasingly impatient.
“The sleepers only see what the spirits show them. Receiving their blessing is not in your future. They refuse to see you,” Lari said.
“I don’t understand,” Dath said, he fumbled open the box to show the druid its contents, “I’m offering the tribe’s protection and the spirit’s service with this.”
The old female shook her head. “It’s what lies within. I am sorry Dathazanal, but you will not receive the spirits’ blessings today.”
“Then when? When can I help our warriors from being needlessly butchered? What can I offer them if not me?” Dath said. His voice was on the brink of shouting.
“Come on, Dath, we’ll try another day,” Zjel said gently holding back her brother.
“What a waste of time!” Dath shouted as he turned away from the old female and stormed down the hall.
Arr and Zjel politely bowed to the druid. “Bellemin I’aer, children. May the wilds protect you,” Lari said before the sisters followed their furious brother.
Once outside, Dath began strapping the chest on to his stallion’s back. Zjel quickly mounted her horse waiting for her elder sister.
“That was so rude, Dath,” Arr said tightly crossing her arms.
“Old benor’e! It was rude of them to deny someone who is willing to put everything on the line. How stupid must they be? If we had gone earlier then maybe things would turn out differently, but no, you had to go and take your precious bath!” Dath said as he fumbled around with the thick leather straps.
“Don’t blame me because you couldn’t get a spirit’s audience,” Arr snapped.
In a blinding moment, Dath snatched the wooden box from his horses back and threw it with all his might against one of the stones in the den’s garden. Wooden shards scattered across the grass, partially spooking the elks.
“Why would I blame you? Nothing’s ever your fault, Arrazanal. The world revolves around you, and here we’re left to pick up after you.” Dath said glaring menacingly towards his sister.
Arr said nothing. Of all the horrible moments she had exchanged with her eldest sibling, this had to be the worst. His words had cut deeper than she had thought.
“You can’t blame me forever…” she said, trying to keep her composure.
Dath slowly walked up to her, keeping his glare. Would he be foolish enough to attack his sibling in front of the Druid’s Den? Arrazanal hoped he wouldn’t, but these were uncertain times.
“Watch me,” he said quietly.
She felt a slash on her hand. Instinctively she winced in pain. Arr looked at her palm to see no wounds, but her attention was drawn to Zjel trying to pick up the serrated whip from the grass when she cut herself in the process.
“Use a cloth, for spirit's sake,” Arr said trying to divert Dath’s attention.
She obliged and re-mounted her elk. Her magenta eyes widened with fear and worry at the tension. Like a flick of a leaf, Dath’s face smiled at his youngest sibling. He turned to kiss Arr on the forehead before hoping on his mount and riding off home.
~
“Try not to touch anything with your bloody hand, or any hand for that matter,” Arrazanal said rummaging through the many glass vials on the shelf in her family’s alchemy station.
“I get why I can’t touch anything with my cut hand, but why can’t I ever touch anything in here?” Zjel asked as she picked up a vial with a bubbly green liquid inside.
“Because some of these mixtures can burn your skin right off,” Arr said quickly snatching the green vial from her sister’s hand.
“Just like a fire would,” Zjel said rubbing her bandaged palm. Scarlet blood began seeping through the cloth.
“Yes…like fire,” Arr looked to the green vial and soon realised it was the regenerative healing solution she had been seeking, “unwrap your bandage slowly, we don’t want any more blood coming out. Cup your hand while I pour this on, it might sting a little.”
Zjelazanal’s arm shook in pain as she peeled off the bandage. Arrazanal gently gripped her sister’s wrist to ease her shakes. Instead she could feel more pain coming from Zjel. Arrazanal hated being an empath. When the bubbling green liquid dripped on to her palm Zjelazanal winced and almost pulled away, but Arr’s grip tightened. She disliked causing her sister pain.
“So, when there’s a lot of fire, things get really hot. I heard that the heat is so strong it can burn people from a distance,” Zjel said as the liquid mixed with the deep cut and hissed quietly.
“That’s right,” Arr said under her breath as she watched the vial empty into her sister’s palm.
“Dath tells me that’s what happened to our village when the Noszarel attacked us. Why would they do such horrible things?” she asked.
“Because they are savages. You could understand a panther better than a Noszarel,” Arr said putting the vial on a nearby workbench.
“What did we do to them to make them so angry at us?” she asked watching the liquid dissolve into her skin.
“We protect the forests and they were cutting them down to build bigger houses. They were being selfish,” Arr said resting against her workbench.
“We live in houses made of trees, like everyone else. Like mother and father!” Zjel said rubbing her now healed palm.
“Why are you defending them? They killed father and mother was too weak to raise three children on her own,” Arr said crossing her arms again.
“I’m not, I just-,” Zjel said as she looked to her hands.
A moment of silence passed between the two sisters.
“I would’ve liked to have known them,” Zjel rubbed her palms together.
Arrazanal stared at her sister’s hands and then her sad little face. “They almost didn’t marry,”
Zjelazanal glanced up, her brows furrowed in curiosity.
“Warriors and druids hardly mix. The idea is to make children born from warriors gifted with strength and children born from druids gifted with psionics. I guess our parents never understood that rule,” Arr said followed by a small chuckle.
A large smile stretched across Zjelazanal’s face as she looked to her older sister. “Thank you. You always know how to make me feel better.”
“If you want to thank me, pick out the emerald vines that were used to make that potion,” Arr couldn’t help sharing Zjel’s infectious smile.
“I’m grateful that it wasn’t deer manure this time,” she said before skipping to the thin silky curtain separating the alchemy den to the rest of the family hut.
“Zjel,” Arr called out just as her sister pushed passed the curtains, “you’re the luckiest out of all of us to not remember them.”
With a shrug of her bare shoulders, Zjelazanal disappeared behind the curtain leaving Arrazanal with her thoughts. She brushed her short wavy hair through her fingers to find a small lump protruding from the back of her scalp. Old pain echoed through her head as she gently tapped the bruise while her other hand felt around for any more regenerative mixture on her desk. She picked up a warm vial, believing it to be the one she used on her sister. She pulled it towards her face only to find that it was an entirely different bottle. It had a transparent liquid inside with a tinge of blue. It took her a moment to realise that it was one of the concoctions her former alchemy tutor had taught her, an amnesia potion.
Arrazanal had obviously never tried it before; the tricky thing is she probably wouldn’t have remembered it even if she did. She slowly opened the tiny cork and took a whiff of the contents. She immediately regretted it. The hot fumes stung her nose. Its smell reminded her of burnt hair mixed with wet fur from a mountain wolf. She contemplated whether this was her opportunity to erase the emotional baggage of the past. She refused to carry her remaining family’s burdens.
As she pushed the vial opening to her lips, a thought sprung into her mind. Arrazanal picked up a different full vial that the village alchemist had given her for easing stomach-aches when she was much younger. She might use this one in case of a bad ache, she thought. Once she gathered her courage, she tipped the clear amnesia potion into her mouth and swallowed all the liquid with one gulp.
Her tongue felt hot and strangely sweaty, she sensed the burning potion travel down into her centre dispersing into her stomach. Bubbles began rising from within her, strange popping sounds came from deep within her ears, her head felt like a boulder resting on her shoulders, and she began losing her grip against the workbench. Her muscles began violently shaking and sweat pushed out of her skin. A horrid burn rose from her stomach and made its way to her throat; she was going to be sick.
As Arrazanal regained her footing, her grip on both potions fell to the stone floor and the glass shards shattered on impact. She clumsily made her way out of the alchemy chamber and almost tripped herself on the various pieces of lounge furniture as she headed outdoors. She ran onto the thick grass around her home, her knees buckled, and she collapsed on the soft plants. She waited for the acid burn to rise, but it never came. Even the popping sounds seemed to have disappeared from the inside of her head. This was a huge mistake, she thought, any minute she will need to fetch her brother to take her to the healing ward of the Temple.
Her head spun as she focused on her hands gently massaging the grass. A sense of contentment rippled through her mind and flesh as she massaged the living plants. She could feel confusion and worry from all around her. Arrazanal looked up to see if any Ezoni were around emitting such emotions, but the only life that greeted her were a dozen bushes and trees. Beads of sweat rolled down her forehead. She reached out to a nearby bush and gripped one of its thin branches. She felt strange thoughts and emotions flood her mind.
Try to stand. The plant whispered. The shakes quickly passed as she rose to her feet. It took her a moment to see the colours of the forest had become brighter and far more vibrant than what she had grown accustomed to. Thick colourful ribbons of light pulsated from different trees and bushes, all of them unique and special. Arrazanal looked to her hands to see similar patterns of her aura shining above her skin. Violet of all shades that blended with sunset oranges and reds all shone brightly.
A quiet hum echoed through her mind. She stopped to listen to the hum as it transformed into a beautiful melody. As if a thousand Ezoni women hummed in unison to her delight, it was the meadow that sung in harmony. Her mouth cracked into a wide smile as she was taken by the entrancing music. Between the tree trunks, she watched small orbs of light circling and dancing in the warm summer’s breeze. Could they be the Wild Ones? Arrazanal wondered. They were so playful and childlike for higher and powerful beings.
As she watched the sprites for what seemed like a blissful eternity, they spirited off into the clouds. Suddenly, the colours of the forest aura changed into darker shades.
It took Arrazanal a second to realise dark auras lurking behind the trees were in the shape of Ezoni trying to hide.