Chapter Text
A young girl clung to her mother’s skirt, hiding behind the woman as soldiers from a foreign nation marched through their village. Beside them stood her uncle, the girl’s brother in his arms. The war was over, and Larna had lost.
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“Da!” A five-year-old Riannon called out to her father and ran toward him, grasping onto his leg. “Don’t go, Da, don’t go.”
“Ri, darling, I have to.”
“But why, Da?” She sobbed.
“I have to protect my little princess.” He answered with a smile and ruffled the hair on her head. “And her brother and their mama.”
“You should stay here then!” She protested. “You can’t protect us if you’re far away!”
He knelt down to her, his hand still on her head. “Natika’s taught you about the Galaxy Stag, right?” He asked, receiving a nod in return. “He is far away from us, but still protects us every day and night from darkness. That’s what I’ll be doing, but just like him, I need you to trust that I’m doing my best so that the Empire doesn’t hurt you, Lyid, or Mama. Understand?” She nodded again, wiping the tears from her eyes. “That’s my big girl. Take care of Mama and your baby brother, for me, okay? You need to be brave for them.”
“Viren.” Val said, a hand on his brother-in-law’s shoulder. “The convoy is leaving. We must go now if we want to join them.”
“Right.” He said to Riannon’s uncle, then kissed her forehead and stood up. “I promise, I’ll come back.”
He lied.
Riannon woke up as some sunlight from the window hit her face. Again she dreamed about her father; that happened almost twenty years ago, but it still burned in her mind like it happened yesterday. A tear had trickled down from her eye, but she wiped it away and climbed out of bed; she was the town Healer now and had to remain strong. She changed from her sleeping clothes to her healer’s robes. The kirtle was blue in color, for the color of the water, and draped over her shoulders, gently bunching up over her bust. The surcoat was green, for the earth, and was held in place with a gray sash that wrapped tightly around her waist and hung down her front.
Some cold water from a small basin below a dirty mirror washed away the fatigue from her eyes and she couldn’t help but look at her reflection in the gnarled glass. She looked just like her mother: the same dark brown hair, the round cheeks and pointed chin, and her mother’s blue eyes. Her father gave her his freckles, as was the same with her brother, though he shared many more similarities to their father than she did. Once finished, she grabbed her staff as it rested against the room’s doorframe. The object was a long wooden staff with a cut violet-red gem at the top, the wood tightly twisted around it. Tied to a leather strap just beneath it were some charms she’d made.
As she walked down the stairs to her kitchen, the boards creaked under her feet. Her house was not large, but it was perfect for just one person. There was a sitting area around a fireplace just outside her kitchen, where the front door opened to. All over the walls were little statues, amulet, potions, elixirs, charms, ointments, lotions, and so on. On the kitchen table was a bottle of an elixir she made that had to sit out overnight. It was for her sister-in-law Marina, who was pregnant and had asked for something to help with the pains and morning sickness. It made her smile to see her brother Lyid’s face brighten the way it did when she gave the young couple the diagnosis. She suspected that somewhere in the Afterlife, their father was making the same smile. The two had barely been married for half a year and already were expecting their first child. Unfortunately, that caused more worry than pride in Riannon. They were still very young, Lyid wasn’t even 20 years old and Marina wasn’t much younger, and women that young often died from childbirth.
Riannon tried not to think about that as she poured the elixir into a bottle and closed it. Marina was a strong girl, having lost her father to the war against the Forian Empire, just as her husband and sister-in-law had, and her mother not ten years later. At least now she had a family again.
“Thank the Spirits I don’t have to deal with that nightmare.” Riannon muttered to herself while packing up her bag.
“Deal with what?” Came a voice from the corner.
It wasn’t necessary to turn around to know who the voice belonged to, Riannon already knew it well, but she did anyway. Sitting on the windowsill was Pallor, a young forest Spirit and her best friend. Pallor was something of a Spirit guardian to her, all healers had one, but Riannon and Pallor were much closer. In normal form, Pallor was a deer-like creature with ram’s horns and canine paws and tail. Eir human form was a sexless youth with scraggily brown hair and deep purple eyes. Ey spoke in the way that all Spirits do, relying more on eye contact than actual speech, unlike mortals. Normal people couldn’t understand language, but the mark of a healer was the ability to do so.
“Becoming pregnant.” Riannon said in answer to Pallor’s question as she grabbed the bottle next to Marina’s elixir. This was an ointment for some burns her uncle Val had gotten when his house burned down not too long ago. Luckily, he didn’t have many possessions, and all his more valuable things were saved, but not without cost. He’d sustained first degree burns on his arms, and second degree on his legs. It wasn’t pretty, but they weren’t too bad and should heal fairly quickly, just as long as he used the ointment regularly. Luckily his sister had kept the room he slept in when he helped her raise Riannon and Lyid open, ready to take anyone who needed a place to stay.
The Spirit jumped from their perch. “What’s pregnant?”
“I’ll explain later. Stay here, I’ve got some errands to run.” She instructed her guardian and slung her bag over her shoulder, earning a quick nod in return as she walked out.
Outside, the village had already woken up quite a bit. People nodded to her and waved as she walked by, something that, after half a year of service to the town, she yet wasn’t used to. Of course, it was only natives of Larna who paid her any attention, since Forian people didn’t believe in the Spirits. Many of them just rolled their eyes at her, though she knew that they believed her to be a witch. In addition to refusing marriage from multiple Forian boys who have knocked on her door, she spoke to “magical” spirits and they claimed she was sleeping with one (a ludicrous accusation). She paid their judgments no mind since they didn’t seem to care who she worshiped when they needed her help.
Fortunately, the town’s captain and mayor, two older men the Empire appointed as leaders the of the town, allowed people to worship whomever they pleased, considering that most of the town’s occupants were Larnan natives and weren’t willing to abandon the Spirits to Forian’s lazy, conceited gods. The captain especially, was very pleasant to everyone in general, and a very just man. He was a bit fat and far past his prime, but he knew how to lead and maintain order without instilling fear. He still believed Riannon to be a witch, but since she never hurt anyone, he didn’t care, and even joked about it, endearingly giving her the nickname “Little Witch.”
It just so happened that, she had chosen the path that he took for his morning patrol, and was nearly knocked over by his horse. “Oops, sorry there, dear.” The old man said and turned the animal away. “Couldn’t see you.”
“It’s alright, Captain. How are you this morning?” She inquired and pet the horse’s neck.
“Fine, fine. Same as usual, I suppose. And how are you, Little Witch?”
“The same.” She answered with a smile. “My sister-in-law has been getting some bad nausea and morning sickness from her pregnancy, so I’m going to give her a little something to help.”
“Ah. I hope the gods grant the baby health and strength. Or your spirits.” He shrugged. “Whichever.”
She chuckled. “Thank you.”
“Have a nice day.”
“The same to you.”
Once their farewells were finished, she crossed the street to Lyid and Marina’s house. She gave the door a light knock and Marina answered it. “Oh thank the Spirits, you’re here!” She said and pulled her sister-in-law inside.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got everything you need.” Riannon pulled the bottle from her bag and handed it to Marina. “You just need to keep sipping it throughout the day and you should be fine, but not too much at once, understand.” The younger girl nodded. “I’ve also brought you a few herbs to chew on that will help the nausea go down.”
“Thank you.” Marina gave her a hug then went over to the kitchen where she had something cooking. “Can I get you something to drink or eat?”
“No, not right now. I’ve got to give Uncle some more ointment for his burns. He seems have run out already.”
The younger girl laughed lightly. “Men are quite childish sometimes.”
“I don’t know what possesses our gender to be attracted to them sometimes.” Riannon walked into the kitchen. “That smells wonderful.”
“It’s not your mother’s but hopefully it’s edible. I’m experimenting on different things for the Spring Festival and Lyid is my test subject.”
The older woman chuckled. “You should write down what you put into it if it’s good, so you can make it again.”
“That’s a wonderful idea!” Marina cheered.
“Well, I should go, no sense in making Uncle wait for the ointment.”
“Say hello for me.” Marina said and hugged Riannon. She returned the gestured and started out. Luckily, her trip to the blacksmith shop where Val and Lyid worked was uneventful. The door to the shop was open and she stepped inside to be greeted by her little brother, who’d been arranging something on one of the shelves. “Ria!” He cheered and hugged her. “It’s good to see you, big sister.”
“The same to you.” She replied with a laugh.
“Come in, come in!” He pulled her inside. “What brings you here?”
“Uncle has already used up the ointment I gave him for his burns, so I’m here to give him some more.”
The boy cringed slightly. “He hates being taken care of, you know that.”
“It’s part of my job, Lyid. If he doesn’t use this, those wounds will never heal.”
“Good luck getting him to understand that.”
“Getting me to understand what?” Val inquired as he walked in, and smiled when he saw his niece. “Riannon.”
“Hello, Uncle. Mama told me you used up the ointment so…”
“It didn’t use it up, I threw it out. Damn stuff kept rubbing off on everything and making my clothes stick to me.” He huffed.
“That means you just need to be more careful. If you don’t use it, that burn will never heal, or worse, get infected.”
“I’m fine, Riannon. It’s not a big deal.”
“Uncle, that was a serious burn and I can see from here that it’s already starting to fester.” She said. “Doesn’t it hurt?”
Before Val could answer, Lyid chimed in, “Don’t deny it, Uncle. You’ve been having me do more work near the fire.”
The older man looked back and forth between his niece and nephew and shook his head. “I’m not going to win this, am I?”
“No.” The siblings said in unison.
He sighed. “Fine, I’ll use the damn ointment, but I won’t bloody like it.”
“You say that now…” Riannon teased and handed it to him, making Lyid laugh. “Take care of yourselves.” She said as she left.
Walking through the town, she felt herself moving towards her mother’s home; the home she grew up in. She had a lot of fond memories in that house, playing with her brother, helping her mother, listening to her uncle’s stories his days in the army. She barely remembered what her life was like while her father was still alive, save for the dreams she had every once in a while. Lyid was unfortunate to not have been old enough to know what their father was like, but their mother always said the boy was a spitting image to Viren. She was right. Whenever Riannon looked at her brother, she saw her father’s face instead of the boy’s.
Shaking the thought from her mind, she next headed to the tavern. It was run by Jameson Daryle and his family, a well-respected family in the town. Jameson’s little daughter Emily had been sick for the past few days, and only yesterday her fever finally broke and started going down; but that wasn’t the whole problem. She coughed and sneezed non-stop and she was too weak to even get out of bed. Riannon was worried that it might be worse than just a cold, which she could treat.
Despite Jameson’s authoritative nature and ability to keep his customers under control, Riannon still tried to avoid the place as much as she could. It was a popular hangout for the Forian soldiers who occupied the town, and they showed her the least respect of all. They were from the bottom of the barrel in terms of good soldiers, probably because the village is so remote and unimportant in the Empire’s eyes. She suspected that some of them were wife-beaters too, considering all the times Forian women had come to her with bruises and black eyes. It made her sick to see these men, especially since they only obeyed the captain because they don’t appear to care about what he says. Oh well, she had to go through the tavern to get to where Emily was, so she took a deep breath and stepped through the door.
The place was stuffy, hot, very loud, and smelled so strongly of booze and sweat that not even Jameson’s wife Barta’s cooking couldn’t mask it. Once she walked in, it got quiet. It made her uncomfortable to have all eyes on her, but proceeded anyway. Women hardly ever went in there for the same reason Riannon avoided it, save for the harlots the soldiers brought in with them.
She kept her head high as she moved through the crowd, trying not to touch any of them. Unfortunately, someone called out to her as she passed by, “What brings the witch-slut here?” Riannon tried to ignore him but after he just chuckled and added, “Oh, she’s too high and mighty for us, eh boys?” A chorus of agreement rippled among his companions.
“I think we oughta teach her better, I do.” Another added, again she tried to ignore them, but then, one reach out and groped her rear.
Before anyone else could react, Riannon grabbed the hand and twisted it around its owner’s back, pulling the man out of his seat, the knife she kept hidden in her sleeve at his throat. The whole place was silent again. “Touch me like that again and I’ll cut off your testicles!” She kicked him away and continued on her path, leaving stunned soldiers in her wake.
“What the bloody hell is going on out here?!” Jameson belted as he came out to the bar.
“Morning, Jameson.” Riannon greeted exasperatedly.
“Ah, you happened.” He chuckled. “What was it this time?”
“Someone grabbed me and I threatened him with castration if he did it again.” She answered nonchalantly, giving a small shrug.
“Ah, the usual.” He chuckled. “Well, I’m glad you’re here, Emily’s started eating again.”
“That’s a good sign.” Riannon smiled. “Just don’t give her too much or she might give it back.”
He grimaced and beckoned her behind the bar. “Come on back, she’s waiting upstairs.” Riannon nodded and followed him to Emily’s room.
The little girl, barely five years old, was sitting in her little bed, sipping a bowl of broth with the help of her eldest sister, fifteen-year-old Marceline. When Riannon walked in, Marceline moved to stand, but stopped when Riannon put a hand up. “How is she?” The woman asked.
“Much better now that her fever’s gone down.” Marceline answered. “The medicine you gave us really helped.”
“I’m glad to hear that, but you need to keep up with it or the fever could come back.” Riannon sat on the edge of the bed. “Hello, Emily.”
“Hello!” the little girl replied.
“Feeling better, I see.”
“I’m not warm anymore, but….” She coughed. “That still happens a lot.”
“Do your arms and legs still hurt?” Riannon asked in reference to the achiness Emily also had.
“Yes…” She nodded and coughed again.
“Okay, well you don’t seem to be coughing as much as you were yesterday.” Riannon said, making the girl smile. She then put her hand on the little girl’s forehead. It was still warm, but not burning like it had been. Still, that worried Riannon. “You seem to be getting better, but you have to keep taking your medicine or you’ll get sick again. I know it tastes awful, but you have to be strong, like your sisters, and take it.”
“Okay.” The little girl smiled weakly.
“Now, why don’t you go back to sleep.” The woman suggested and the little girl laid back down. Riannon then stood up, gesturing for Marceline to follow her out of the room.
“It sounds like good news.”
“But not as good as I hoped…” Riannon mused, fearing her suspicions were true. “The aching should have gone away by now, and she was still warmer than she should be…”
“But she is getting better… right?”
“Slowly, slower than she should be... I know you and your siblings wait on customers down stairs, but there needs to be someone here at all times, and if something happens, anything at all, come get me immediately. I’m going to tell your parents the same thing.”
“Okay, and thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet.” Riannon said and started down the stairs where Jameson was waiting.
“Well?”
“Have someone with her at all times, and if anything changes, tell me. I don’t care how small the change or what time it is, send someone to get me.”
“You sound worried, lass.” Jameson commented as he walked her to the tavern.
“I just… I’m worried that this is worse than I thought, and Emily is so young it could be harder on her than on an adult or even teenage body.”
“I’m sure you’re fretting over nothing.” He put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Should I walk you out?”
She nodded and followed after him as he navigated the crowd, which parted for them as they walked past, the soldier she threatened glaring at her. Once outside, she took a deep breath and headed home, but once again, she felt herself drawn toward her childhood home. She conceded, figuring that her mother would be glad to see her, since she hasn’t visited since Natika died. Part of her was a bit nervous as to how her mother would react, but she knocked anyway and waited.
“One moment!” Her mother’s voice called from the other side of the door, which was soon opened to show the portly woman. Driga’s tired blue eyes brightened in joy when they saw the young woman across the threshold. “Riannon!” She cheered and pulled her daughter into a tight hug, which she was famous for around town. “It’s so good to see you! I’ve missed you!”
Riannon could tell just how overjoyed her mother was to see her and hold her again, and she didn’t want to end that, but her shoulder was stabbing Riannon’s throat, making it difficult to breathe. “I missed you too, Mama.” Riannon managed to choke out.
Driga let her go and ushered her inside. “Have you eaten today?”
“I haven’t had the chance to, no.” Riannon just realized, but if there was anyone who could fix that, it was her mother. Riannon was convinced Driga would make it her personal duty to feed everyone in the world if she had the chance.
“Riannon! It’s almost noon!” Driga scolded, and pulled her into the kitchen. “Sit.”
“I had things to do, Mama. I’ll eat when I get home.” The younger woman protested, but sat down anyway.
“Healer or not, you need to eat or you’ll get sick. Then who’ll take care of you?”
“Well, you did a pretty good job of it when I was little.” She joked.
“I had help from Natika, you know that.”
“I know, I know.” Riannon chuckled as Driga put a plate of bread and cheese in front of her. Her stomach growled, making her acutely aware of just how hungry she really was, and she practically inhaled the food.
Driga chuckled and sat down across the table. “Have you been sleeping well?”
“Mhm.” Riannon grunted with a nod and swallowed the food in her mouth.
“Really? Or are you just telling me that to get me off your back?”
“Really, Mama, I actually have been sleeping well recently. Though the past few nights have had me a little jittery because of the festival.”
“I understand.” Driga nodded. “But don’t wear yourself out and get sick.”
“Yes, yes. I know, then who will take care of me?”
“And who will run the festival?”
“True.” She agreed with a nod.
“Riannon,” Driga reached out and took her daughter’s hand. “If you ever feel like this is too much for you, please just ask for help. I know you’re too stubborn to, you’re like your father and uncle that way, but please, know that I’m here for you.”
The sudden earnestness in her mother took Riannon off guard, but she smiled and nodded, holding her mother’s hand. “Don’t worry, Mama, I can do this.”
“I know.” Driga sighed and cupped Riannon’s cheek with her free hand. “You’re doing so well and I’m so proud of you, and I’m sure your father is too. You should’ve seen his face when Natika told him she suspected you had the gift.”
“I’m guessing it was like Lyid’s face when I told him and Marina that she’s pregnant.”
The other woman chuckled and nodded. “Most likely.”
Riannon stayed a bit longer to further chat with Driga so they could catch up on what each of them was up to, since they hadn’t seen each other in so long, but soon the sky started to darken and Val returned from the forge.
“Spirits! Is it that late already?” Riannon jumped up from her seat.
“Well, do you want to stay for dinner?” Driga offered as she followed her daughter into the little hallway.
“No, I have a lot of work to do, but I promise I will eat.”
Val chuckled. “The town Healer has to promise her mother she’s eating properly, what has this world come to?”
“Oh hush, you.” Driga scolded and gently smacked his arm, making him flinch a bit. “It’s not like you’re any better at remembering to eat.”
“Or admitting you need the ointments I gave you.” Riannon mumbled, earning a betrayed look from her uncle as her mother glared at him.
“Val, I swear, your stubbornness is going to kill you!” Driga scolded him, making him groan.
With a final goodbye, Riannon left, chuckling as she did so. It seemed that all siblings were the same, no matter the age: they can go from offering each other a place to stay, to wanting to strangle each other in a matter of seconds.
Tiredly, she walked into her house. Still, Pallor was waiting for her. “Everything okay?” ey asked.
“Jameson’s daughter isn’t getting better as fast as she should be…” Riannon answered and flopped down into a kitchen chair. “That’s not a good sign.”
“You should stay alert then, if anything changes.”
“I know, I am.”
“Good.” Pallor jumped up onto the table. “So, what’s pregnancy?”
Riannon looked up at the Spirit and started explaining it. By the time she finished, Pallor’s purple eyes were as big as apples and eir jaw was down to eir chest.
Riannon couldn’t help but chuckle. “Now you know why I’m glad I don’t have to go through that.” She said, earning only a nod in return. “I suppose it’s worth it for some, but I have more important things to do.” With that she stood up, patting eir head while she passed em. “Speaking of, I still have things to do for the Spring Festival.” She began rummaging through her cabinets to find what she needed.
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Off in the country of Foria, a tavern bustled with its normal crowd. It was the time of night when people in town had closed their businesses and came to the tavern to rest after a hard day’s work. The owner and bartender, Thelnied was a cheery man who offered pleasant conversation to anyone who came to talk. Everyone was talking merrily as the alcohol flowed freely, but became silent when the door opened forcefully and slammed against the wall behind it. In walked Captain Alzeo, leader of the town’s minutia of soldiers stationed there for protection and maintaining order. He was a tall, intimidating man, with black hair and eyes, wearing only that same color. It was his job to keep watch on “this filthy swine-filled town” and “keep these poor excuses for Forian people” in peace. Needless to say, he didn’t like his situation, but the beer there was good enough. Already a cross man, that day he was in a particularly bad mood, and it showed. His normal scowl had turned to a full glare, his walk seeming more like stomping as he moved to the bar. Everyone was curious as to why he was so upset, but none had the courage to ask, except Thelneid, with whom Alzeo was friends.
“What’s got you so sore today?” He asked as Alzeo sat down.
“I’m being reassigned.” Alzeo answered, the crowd murmuring to each other, most everyone glad to see him leave.
“Oh, don’t you have more reason to be happy? Thought you hated being here?” He set the other man’s usual order down in front of him.
“I’m going to a small village in Larna. I have to babysit those bastard heathens.” He grumbled and took a drink.
“I’m sure it’s not all bad. Larnans are quite civilized.”
“How civilized can they be if they worship some magical spirits who prance around the forest.”
“Oh, the gods forbid.” The bartender rolled his eyes. “With any luck, you won’t have to deal with that.”
“Let’s hope.” Alzeo took a drink of his beer.
“When do you leave?”
“Tomorrow.”
“And you’re taking all your men with you?”
“Yes. We should arrive at the village by early spring.”
“Well, at least you won’t have to deal with one of Larna’s infamous winters straight away.” Thelneid offered.
“Oh gods I’m not looking forward to that.” Alzeo grumbled and took another drink as the bartender chuckled.