Over the Eastern Horizon - Prologue

Over the Eastern Horizon - Book 1

Prologue


Year 1365 of the Third Age - 24th of Lugdenwain - Hufflyn Village
A chilled northern wind swept out through the thick trees of the Great Forest, carrying the smells of dying vegetation with it.  A sad reminder of the task ahead.  Death was never easy, but when the loss of life happened to one so young, it became that much more unbearable.
         Standing there at the tree line, Shummi turned her head, looking back the way she had come, towards the small village of Hufflyn.  It was quiet at this early hour, a dark silhouette against a purple-pink dawn sky, with an air of stillness around it, as though the village itself mourned tonight’s loss.
         Her eyes caught movement to the west.  A lone shepherd strolled along the ridge of a nearby hill, watching over his small herd of sheep, grazing in the meadows below.  Even from this distance Shummi could sense the man’s peace, and she couldn’t help but envy him for that.  Her night had been anything but peaceful.
         As a midwife Shummi felt great satisfaction from helping women in their most trying of times, though it was not always the most pleasant line of work.  This night had been one of those unpleasant ones.  The small, lifeless bundle in her arms was still warm, its thin patch of light brown hair still wet.  The carpenter and his wife had known the risk of such an early birth.  This had been the young woman’s first pregnancy, and her body had not taken well to it.  The past months had sapped much of the woman’s strength and vitality.  Shummi had advised the couple that if both mother and baby were to live, the birth would have to be hastened.
         Late that night Shummi had given the carpenter’s wife a brew made of the dried leaves of several plants and powdered roots meant to begin the labour process.  She worked all night praying to deliver the couple a healthy baby, but that had not been the case.  The tiny baby girl was born live but two months early, and the poor babe simply didn’t have the strength to live outside it‘s mother’s womb.  It died before the night sky had begun to brighten.  The husband, distraught over their loss, had paid Shummi two silver crowns for her services and another three to take the dead newborn away, so that he could be with his wife.  Shummi had refused to accept the man’s coins, but agreed to do as he asked.
         Throughout these lands it was customary to burn your dead, and spread the ashes somewhere special and meaningful, but Shummi could not bare to do such a thing.  Having wrapped the babe in a thin wool knit blanket, Shummi held it close to her bosom, as though shielding it from the late autumn chill.  She knew what she would do.  Her mind had been made up, before even leaving the couple’s home.
         Shummi cautiously made her way closer to the edge of the vast tree line of the Great Forest, frost laden grass crunching under her feet, stopping several times to look and listen for any signs of movement within.  The growing light of dawn did little to illuminate the shadowy depths that lay before her.  The forest was a dangerous place for a lone woman, especially a woman like her, but this would not be her first foray into this forest.  There were few places for midwives, like herself, to obtain the necessities of their trade, and so they had to fend for themselves.  Some medicinal plants could only be found in the deep wooded recesses were few cared to go.
         Having spent most of her long life living near these forests, Shummi knew them well enough, and was confident in her safety.  She knew the perfect place were this poor lifeless babe could be laid to rest.
         So setting forth, Shummi followed a narrow and disused trail through the thick woods.  She noticed that since her last time taking these steps the path become even more overgrown by tall grasses and spiny weeds, half dead from the approaching winter.  As a patch of these spiny weeds scratched along her ankle, Shummi fought back the urge to shed tears.  Not for the sting of the sharp spines, but for the guilt for the infants death.  It was she who as forced it’s early arrival into this world.  A world that so quickly turned upon it.  Sighing, she pushed such thoughts out of her mind.  In the Great Forest a distracted mind was one of many ways to unknowingly find oneself in a mess of trouble.
         With her sandaled feet cold, sore, and with the forest growing darker and more ominous the deeper she progresses, Shummi’s head whispered for her to turn back.  Find another place!  Her heart ached too much for the bundle she carried, and it was that aching in her heart that forced her on, reminding her that she didn’t have to far to go.
         Cutting a path away from the trail, Shummi forced her way uphill through thick brush, and not without great effort.  Everyone always said that with age came wisdom, but it also came with aches and pains that made tasks like this that much more strenuous.  Holding tight to her bundle with one arm she struggling onward, her old limbs seeming to groan for to stop and rest.
         As the ground rose higher, the way thinned and finally cleared until the wet, leaf covered ground was replaced with an increasingly large amount of flagstones.  The large flat rocks were stacked one upon the other, in an overlapping pattern, like crooked steps.  In some places the rocks had crumbled or had become entangled by rogue tree routes over the long passage of time.  Shummi had found this place long ago, during one of her many forays through these woods, and had never once brought another to this place.  Not even Wyshlon, her long time friend and lover.
         Although, one day after returning home with several stone relics she had found from the site, Wyshlon had explained that it was most likely a Pary Shrine.  This had peeked Shummi’s interest considerably.  The fair folk of the forest.  A magical people who were thought to have died out centuries earlier, during a time when those with magical gifts had been hunted, persecuted and savagely murdered out of fear and envy.
         The flagstone staircase was not too difficult to climb, and the faint sounds of trickling water began to tease Shummi’s ears as she approached the top.  A bit winded and eager to appease her body’s demand for rest, she took one last step and sighed a breath of relief.  She had made it and was glad that she did.  It looked just as it had all those many years ago when she first laid eyes upon it.  A small clearing, only a few man lengths wide, surrounded by tall and thick junipers, with a large rocky outcropping at the center only a hair taller than herself.  A steady trail of fresh water trickled down the face of the rocks, pooling in the recess at its base, providing a pleasant and calming atmosphere.
         Shummi urged her tired bones forward.  Taking a seat at the edge of the spring she allowed herself a moment to soak in the peaceful nature of this secret place.  She was dubious about Wyshlon’s theory of it being an ancient shrine of the forest folk.  There was nothing here but this spring, and she had never been able to find any sign of them ever being here during her subsequent visits.  But there was no doubting that this place was special.  She could feel it in the air.
         Her old joints ached from the trek, though it had not been a long one.  Like bitter rivals, old age and cold weather didn’t play nice together.  She debated whether to allow her sore feet a soak in the clean spring water, but discarded the thought quickly.  It was far too chilly out to be wetting ones feet, especially at her age.  She could wait until she returned to her warm cottage.  Besides, this was not a place to be washing dirty feet.  This was a special place, and if Wyshlon was right, a sacred one.
         Gazing down at the precious bundle in her arms she whispered, “I believe, poor dear, you and I are the only ones to know of this place,” but quickly added, “Well not for a very long time.”  She brushed a cold hand across the crown of the infant’s even colder head and said, though she doubted if the words had made it through the tightness in her throat, “This shall be our little place...”
         Rewrapping the knit blanket to re-cover the baby girl’s head, Shummi placed the precious bundle down upon the ledge of the spring, and began looking around for a spot to begin digging.  She instantly regretted not bringing a tool to dig with her.  But alas, this hadn’t exactly been planned.  With a small sigh, Shummi grabbed a triangular piece of broken flagstone nearby and struggled to her feet.
         Shummi walked the area around the rocky spring, examining the ground for a spot that seemed to suit her needs.  She tested the hardness of this spot and that, hoping to find soft earth, but the fast approach of winter had already begun to freeze the ground firm.  “Will this day bring nothing but hardship?” Shummi asked as she looked pleadingly towards the sky.  She did not expect a reply.  With some effort she lowered herself to her knees and began digging with her makeshift trowel.
         Perspiration had begun to form upon her brow after only a few minutes, enough to begin dripping down and stinging her eyes, but she carried on, determined to complete her task.  At least now she wasn’t cold.  Inch by inch she chopped and hacked at the cold, hard dirt of the forest floor, and was making good progress, until a warm breeze blew through the thick junipers, wafting across her face like the tender caress of a lover.  Shummi stopped, surprised to be feeling such warmth on an early fall morning.
         That feeling of warmth soon transformed into one of a mysterious heaviness.  Shummi dropped the stone in her hand, overcome by a miasma.  She could breathe freely, but it felt as though she was being smothered all the same.  She could hear the pounding of her heart as though it were beating between her ears.  Collapsing to her side, she rolled her head from left to right, looking for help she knew was not there.  The world all around blurred and cleared with every passing moment.  This was it.  Shummi was certain that these were her last minutes on this world, and all she could think was of the inconvenient time.
         All around, the junipers swayed mournfully from side to side, as though performing a lament in her honour.  Shummi could no longer feel the wind, or the cold for that matter.  Disoriented, she looked around aimlessly, but was unable to discern which way led back to the flagstone steps.  It was a struggle just not to retch.
         Rolling to her side and planting her hands in the hard dirt of the forest floor, Shummi tried to bring herself to her knees, while her eyes searched frantically for the small bundle she had left beside the spring.  It took a moment, but she finally spotted the blanketed babe, only a few arm lengths away, only it wasn’t alone.
         A small girl, no older than six, stood looking over the dead infant.  She was wearing a torn and thread bare wool shift and her feet were naked and dirty.  Dark brown hair hung in tangles around her shoulders.
         The young girl tilted her head towards Shummi, her eyes shockingly brilliant, with iridescent  irises, like the inside of an oyster shell.  The child’s lips formed themselves into a small smile as she said, “Do not fear, old mother.  You are in no danger.”  Her voice was unnaturally beautiful and compelling, though disconcertingly un-childlike.
         Shummi struggled to lift herself up off the ground but faltered.  She struggled to watch as the strange girl dipped the end of her foot into the spring water.  She shivered and then giggled delightedly, before returning her attention to Shummi.  “Your kind have always had difficulties experiencing our presence.  I assure you the discomfort will pass, when I am gone.”
         Taking a few steps closer, the child scooped up a handful of the dirt Shummi had upturned, rubbing it between her hands.  Lowering her little face, she inhaled deeply.  Smiling, she let the dirt crumble back to the ground.
         “Do you know what I am, my child?” the girl asked, in the same unnatural voice.  A voice so beautiful and hypnotic, Shummi could almost forget the violent nausea that was threatening to empty her stomach.
         Shummi fought hard to find the strength to answer.  The waves of energy pulsating from the girl’s body struck Shummi like ocean waves, crashing against a rocky shore, threatening to wash her away.  Her heart raced, and her head ached.  Shummi had never experienced anything such as this before, but she was beginning to guess what this girl was.  The thought was both thrilling and terrifying.  With a weak and shaking voice she replied, “…a God…”
         The girl smiled widely and replied, “That is what your kind would call me.”
         It seemed impossible to believe such a statement, but Shummi knew this to be true, and was filled with a feeling of wonder.  She wanted to ask so many questions, but could only muster the strength to say one word, “… Damna?”
         The girl’s smile broadened even more as she rested a straightened finger in front of her mouth as she replied, “Your services are required, my child.  But it must be… our little secret.”
         The sky was brightening with the rising sun and rays of pale golden light were now poking through the forest canopy above.  What would Wyshlon think of this?  Damna.  The great goddess.  What could she possibly want with an old woman?  Shummi desperately wanted to ask, but another wave of nausea overpowered her, and she retched violently.
         “Are you suffering?“ Damna asked with a look of pity on her face.  Raising her head and closing her eyes the childlike body trembled.  Shummi felt an unexplainable sensation.  She could feel the waves of energy retreating towards their source, towards the child.  Nearly all of the unbearable discomfort was now gone now, and Shummi soon found the strength and courage to lift herself up off the ground to face the entity in front of her.
         Damna stood only a steps away, the girl looking even more worse for ware, with beads of sweat running down her forehead and neck.  In a voice that seemed oddly laboured to be coming from a goddess she said, “There isn’t much time now.  Containing my full essence is too much for this vessel, and it will soon succumb.”
         “…That a real child?” Shummi asked, horrified at the thought.  She had assumed the great goddess had manifested this form.
         With a shaking hand Damna pulled down the dirty shift over one shoulder, revealing mottled skin in shades of purple.  A sign of the festering plague.  A deadly disease that periodically swept through the Kingdom, leaving thousands dead in its wake.  The discoloured skin looked infected and inflamed, with tiny pustules that wept steadily.  Covering the shoulder again Damna replied, “She’s an orphan and dying.  She will not live to see the first snowfall.  But while I possess her body, she will knows no pain or fear.”
         Shummi’s heart ached at the thought.  Then she remembered the reason she was here, and looked to the bundle laying near the great goddess’s feet.  Damna followed her gaze.  “This is not your child, surely,” Damna stated.  Bending down she took the wrapped and lifeless newborn into her small arms.  “No.  Your fount does not flow.”
         Shummi self-consciously held her stomach.  It had always saddened her that she had never been able to produce children.  Barren, she would never know the joys of motherhood.  Perhaps it was that fact that had drawn her to the role of midwife.  In helping with the pregnancy and births of other women, she was in some way satisfying an unfulfilled need of her own.  “I have never been blessed with the miracle of life.”
         Damna cradled the bundle in her arms, as though it were alive, swaying it gently from side to side, smiling down upon it, and humming a tune Shummi could have sworn sounded familiar.  Returning her gaze to Shummi she said, “I have always found difficulties in understanding the frailties of human life.  I have existed throughout the ages. I have watched the world change time and again.  Yet this little one...” she hugged the infant tight against her chest, her iridescent eyes seeming to penetrate Shummi’s soul, “This one did not even have the chance to see her first sunrise.”
         Shummi’s throat became tight with guilt.  Her voice no louder than a whisper shed asked, “You said that you need my help.  How could I possibly help you?”
         Damna frowned deeply and placed the bundled infant back on the ground.  Tension lines had formed across her forehead.  The skin on the child vessel trembled.  Splotches of reddening had begun to spread down the neck and over the backs of the hands.  Damna seemed to steam and sweat, as though cooking in a great heat.  It was hard for Shummi to watch.
         “You must listen to me now… we have little time… and I will be unable to speak to you again for a great while.  There are rules that govern your realm… as well as mine.  I am breaking one by inhabiting this form.”  Damna’s speech seemed laboured.
         “I… I don’t…” Shummi stammered, lost for words.
         “You will travel north of here… along the forest’s edge.  Three days walk.  In the east you will see the twin peeks of two mountains.  There is a small town there… and there you must stay… and wait,” Damna explained.
         “Wait?  For what?  And for how long?”  Shummi asked.
         “Until she comes to you,” Damna replied.
         “Who?”
         “A child of the forest.  She will not know this land, nor the ways of its people.  She will be vulnerable and scared.  When you find her… protect her… and keep her safe until it is time for the child to serve her purpose?”
         “A child?  But I don’t understand!” Shummi cried in confusion.
         Damna fell to her knees.  The body she possessed looked so fragile.  Raising a reddened and blistered hand she wiped the steaming sweat from her forehead as she continued to explain, “There is a great emptiness looming on the horizon.  An emptiness so great… even I cannot see it… but I can feel it.  Somehow… this girl holds great importance to all of us, though I do not know what that is.  Nor do I know when this girl will leave her forest sanctuary… only that her light will be snuffed out in that small town, unless she is protected… and given the chance to fulfil her ultimate destiny.”
         Shummi couldn’t help but let loose the tears.  She was frightened, awed and most importantly confused.  She didn’t know what to do.  Surely there were others more capable for this task than her.  She felt sick.  “I cannot… I am too old…” Shummi began to protest.
         Ethereal wisps seeped out from the child’s body, where the patches of burnt skin had broken open. The skin around these wounds were beginning to char, and only seemed to quicken with each passing second.  Surprisingly, Damna smiled, though it looked wrong on such a tortured face and said, “You must.  You will owe me a great debt today, and I expect it to be repaid.”  With that, Damna closed her eyes, and erupted in a show blazing fire and energy.
         Shummi’s world went dark and silent…



The air was bitterly cold when Shummi regained consciousness.  The forest was quite dark now.  Only the light from the large half moon above allowed her to see.  She must have been laying there on the ground all day.  She tried to lift herself up, but her head began to spin from the effort.  She decided it would be best to rest a moment.
         A peculiar sound grabbed her attention.  A baby’s cry echoed around her.  Still laying upon the wet earth she searched for the source.  It was very dark, and she had to struggle to make sense of her surroundings.  Although when her gaze rested upon the bundle of blankets her heart seemed to stop.  She was certain that it was the source of the cries, and she was sure she could make out movement.
         Ignoring the discomfort, Shummi forced herself into a crawl.  She took the bundle into her arms and gasped, astonished and afraid, at the miracle she held against her bosom.  The babe’s face was no longer blue and cold, but rosy and warm, her cries loud and healthy.
         Shummi couldn’t explain it.  It was nothing short of a god’s divine doing.  Damna, the great goddess, had made this so.  The goddess’s final words to Shummi echoed in her memory.  You will owe me a great debt today, and I expect it to be repaid.
         Gently bouncing the little miracle in her arms, Shummi said gently, “Hush, little one.  What shall we do with you now?”  Bringing a now living newborn back to the parents was completely out of the question.  They had seen the infant dead.  It would only cause Shummi trouble.  There were those that cried necromancy at the howling of the wind.  Shummi returning it would be signing her own death warrant.
         A smile spread across Shummi’s wrinkled face.  This was her child now.  The one she had always prayed for.  A blessing from Damna.  A payment for Shummi’s service.  She did not care.  She would do what Damna had said.  She would not be able to tell Wyshlon everything, but she would need his help.  He would have to care for this baby while Shummi fulfilled her task.  She would soon be travelling north, until she found the girl the great goddess had spoken of.
         Shummi stood, and with the waning moonlight, found the flagstone steps.  She did not know what future this path held for her, but she would traverse it no matter how rocky and unbearable it became.
         Remembering a lullaby melody from somewhere in her memory, Shummi hummed to her new daughter. She could not have felt happier, or more alive, than she did at this moment.  This was the beginning of a new life, for the both of them.