Between Wolves and Kings, Sonja Bohmann-Murach [highly recommended books TXT] 📗

Vis Banken, Vlakkeland
House of Sorcha O'Connor
18th Day of Windumemánodt in 1143
Early evening of Luönley

‘Roberto, concentrate on the ritual, not my daughter.’
Caught, the pupil of the young man flit about his counterpart Sorcha kept her eyes lowered and did not move. The Paesian couldn’t tell whether she moved her lips and spoke the words, or whether he had merely thought. He stole a glance to the left. Even his brother's eyes were closed. If Mario had noticed something he did not let on. Roberto decided to keep it as well. He breathed slowly, lowered his eyes and tried to free himself from all impressions.

‘Feel yourself,’ he heard Sorcha's voice and he still was not sure if she spoke in reality or in thought. ‘Feel your life, listen to your heartbeat, hearken to your breath.’
The pitch of the older woman was patient and monotonous, but it was not soporific. Roberto listened in to himself, listened to his body, his inner self, and finally disappeared all disturbing emotions of everyday life. Lagged warmth, the feeling of security and Sorcha's voice.
‘Feel the circle, you and us.’

Following the statement, the dark-haired focused on those, whose hands he held. To his left, his brother stood, a smaller image of himself, disregarding by the beard, that Mario trimmed attentive every morning. In his right hand he perceived Eyleen's cool fingers. She was Mario's wife and a daughter of Sorcha. Roberto felt the balance of the two men. There was nothing left of their nervousness at the beginning of the ceremony. Then he touched a wave of energy and power. Sorcha who stood facing him, was the most experienced of them. She guided the ritual and led the family into a different world.
‘Step into the circle.’

They obeyed at once; each of them stepped forward and touched their shoulders. The athletic man felt the carpet of raffia under his bare feet for an instant and then he penetrated through the wall. Mario and Eyleen gasped in horror and Roberto kept their hands reassuringly. Both did this small step, this journey into another world, for the first time.
The wall was semi-fluid and sticky like honey, but ice cold. The Paesian had the feeling of having to fight for every inch, while he pulled his brother and his sister in law with him. He felt sweat on his bare skin, as the cold finally subsided. He opened his eyes and looked around. As soon as smiling Sorcha let go of the hands of Mario and Eyleen, he did do the same.



Kréská
18th Day of Windumemánodt in 1143
Early evening of Luönley

Roberto remembered exactly how he felt when he first traveled to Kréská. He entered a different world, which reflected the real like a mirror and was populated with colorless, lifeless shadows. Massive objects seemed partly translucent, like the walls of Sorcha's hut. Roberto recognized through the outer shell a solid framework; and he did not think about the structure of the tree from which the boards were cut once. It looked like threads, created from a peculiar energy. If you want to describe them, it would exceed the comprehension of most earthlings. Living beings, whether plants, animals or humans, he saw only as a pale, semi-transparent shadow of real figures. Gray mist covered the floor between the four worlds travelers, flowed steadily on.

‘It's scary’, breathed Eyleen shivering and put her arms around her naked body.
‘It's the world of spirits and souls of the ancestors’, said Sorcha, ‘a world that only a few understand. Even the wisest and most experienced travelers by the Ská are constantly faced with a new puzzle.’ The Oldest first smiled at her daughter, then to her son and finally looked at Roberto invitingly. ‘But today the ghosts will help us to solve a mystery. Sit down, children.’

Roberto nodded short to the Airéshwoman and detached himself from the group. He was not just here to help his brother and his wife. Above all, he was responsible for security. While Sorcha, Mario and Eyleen sat down in the fog, Roberto left the translucent skeleton of the hut. Under his bare feet the road seemed unreal soft, although in the reality it was compacted mud. Diaphanous shadows moved on the way. Some of them even floated behind the watery image of a hoofed animal. The tall Paesian knew that people were sitting in a carriage or on a curricle in the real world. The vehicle itself was too young to leave an image in Ská.

The young man walked around the hut and watched carefully the environment. At the wharf, where had to be the big warehouse, Roberto discovered a few Taiwsý Fýodohraicht; ghosts, who created and ruled the twines of structure. The store was barely visible in the Kréská because of it stood not even two years in the real world. The Taiwsý Fýodohraicht gave the shade structure and support, made it visible therewith the building in the material world would be strong, so that it was able to outlast for plenty of years. The spirits were working slowly, but so thoroughly and with deftness that Roberto stayed and watched them for a while. Smiling, he decided to tell to Mario about it later. But then he teared oneself away from the sight and forced himself to finish his round. When he discovered nothing suspicious, he stepped back into the hut, which appeared much more fragile than in reality here in Kréská.

Sorcha, Mario and Eyleen sat on the floor, as Roberto entered. Some balls of green light hovered between them, which drove the mist a little. In the middle a bowl stood as material as it was in reality. A hot stone on the ground heated the water inside.
Roberto settled wordlessly. He dipped two fingers into another bowl of clay, Sorcha was holding to him, and took brown color. He placed forefinger and middle finger with a little distance on the center of his hairy chest and pulled two lines down on the belly. The color felt like warm mud on his skin. Roberto drew four crosslines through the parallels and finally a small arc between them on his belly. This was the sign of his clan, the Wak Fýdohr, the Sons of Weaver. The same character shone on Mario's body already. Roberto dipped his finger again into the color and painted a semicircle on the forehead. This was the symbol of the moon, where he was born.
With a benevolent smile Sorcha took the bowl back. On her forehead gleamed a full, circular point because the old woman was born under the full moon.
On the upper bodies of the two women Sorcha had painted the sign of their own clan. It showed a stylized scroll with a nearly full moon and it was for the Wak Fynskál, the Sons of Legend.

Text: Cover: Moonwolf Blue © Zoa@fotolia.de
Publication Date: 12-14-2011

All Rights Reserved