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The babblings of the baby woke Kessime up, she squinted her eyes and stretched her back. The bones in her shoulders cracked.
The woman yawned, then grabbed the mug of water that was placed at her bedside, she drank it in an instant and felt revigorated.
She got out of the soft sheets, when her bare feet touched the cold wood floor she winched. She walked to the crib that was placed near the fireplace and looked at the baby. A smile curled the corners of her mouth up. Kessime passed her palm over the head of the baby, the coal black hair was soft to the touch, as soft as silk.
When the baby looked at her mom she smiled and hit her palms together attempting a continuous clapping.
“You’re up early today.” When the baby heard her mother’s melodious voice, she smiled and stretched her arms towards the radiant face of Kessime. “Come to mommy.” Kessime grabbed the baby with care. The little girl kept stretching her arms up and babbling, she looked through round blue eyes towards her mother`s face.
As she breast feed the baby Kessime begin to pace around the room. After the baby finished eating, Kessime tugged her back gently. The baby coughed two times, then she relaxed when she heard her mother’s melodious humming.
Kessime walked with small steps circling the dimly lit room.
She observed she was alone only when she drifted her gaze towards the bed that was empty.
The woman found her husband’s matinal absence a mundane occurrence. All year long he was working hard each day, then in the dawn of the late evening he rejoiced in knowing he did his duties and worked hard for his family.
Kessime went to the window and pulled the curtain away with her free hand, the baby became restless when she didn’t feel her mother’s caress. Sighing, Kessime moved her palm on the back of the child tugging gently, assuring the little girl that she was there.
The sky was clear this day, the soft blue was illuminated by the sliver light of the rising sun Kessime couldn’t see because the barn was blocking the horizon to the sun rise.
This clear sky was a small blessing, after long days of doom grey and heavy rains. Kessime saw the morning light being reflected in the small irregular puddles that appeared after the rain. She diverged her gaze to the left and saw the thick trunk of the apple tree, it grew so big she couldn’t fully see it from inside the house.
The old apple tree had it`s thick bark covered in thick dark moss, to survive the harsh winter it had to grow thick skin.
Since the beginning, the tree survived long winters, damp autumns, scorching summers, it always bloomed each spring bearing ripe and big fruits.
After the house was built, to commemorate their wedding Linarian and Kessime planted a tree. It was a popular and famed tradition that foretold the future of the newlyweds. If the tree would grow to bare fruits, it was a sign their marriage would last and the couple would have children. If on the other hand the tree would die it was a sign of breakup and heartbreak.
The woman liked to think the tree was a metaphor for her relationship with her husband, for their mature connection which couldn’t be corrupted by greed and jealousy nor soured by boredom or doubt. They met in hazard, and faced it together growing stronger after that fatal blow.
When Kessime heard the Citadel was in ruins, destroyed by Lilith in a mad fit of rage, she rushed there to look for survivors. She couldn’t endure the thought of leaving wounded and injured to succumb to death or to be eaten half alive by the beasts of the world.
Between ash and crumbled rock, she discovered a crazed man who was stumbling through the ruins, searching for his redemption and his sanity. It was the oldest of their kin, Linarian. Emaciated, wounded, mad with grief and guilt.
Kessime’s heart was broken by the miserable sight of the only survivor who was digging with his bare hands through the rocks for survivors, begging the corpses to rise back to life, wailing and cursing his fate.
Kessime managed to convince him to come with her into the beautiful haven of Dalgur – a delightful oasis in the heart of the desert, the creator of the oasis was most likely dead in a pile somewhere around.
The man followed her inert and mute, like a timid dog.
After the rescue, the fevers and delirium followed. Then there came the dull depression that had a core of mute desperation, but her attentive nurture put him back on his feet and restored his sanity. Linarian could have left when he was healthy, but he chose to remain by Kessime’s side. And somehow that cohabitation turned into love.
Kessime remembered as if it were a thousand of years ago when she and Linarian confessed their love and decided to marry, right after a long and stable companionship that blossomed under both of their careful nurture.
But before they could marry, they needed a home. The inns weren’t a fitting place to raise a family, nor was the mirage desert a place that could offer an easy and long life.
Linarian was the one who chose those foreign lands for them to settle in, because they appeared to him in a dream. All he saw in his dream was a vast green land that gave sprout to endless plants, to colossal trees. The same nature born from the earth succumbed to death, the green withered to dusty yellow or burning shades of red or orange before all the foliage lost all it’s vigor just to be reborn in a new cycle when the time of the renewal came.
Based on that alone, he dragged Kessime through marshes and swamps in the search of the promised paradise.
At first the marshes felt like an incense dream, exotic and full of secrets.
There she had the most vivid dreams, there she swore she could feel the nature talking to her, she felt everything was watching and guiding her with fine gestures. In the swamps Kessime felt the most connected with the world, it was a strange sentiment she couldn’t put into words.
But as they settled in, the reality of that harsh place washed away the mirage.
She woke up from the fever dream of ecstasy when she noticed how the place changed them, it made them to be incoherent and solitary.
During their time in the swamps the bond they had as a couple was eclipsed by a deep contemplative falling within the vast labyrinths of one’s own mind.
When they lived in the swamps, Linarian gradually changed to something stranger, he was like an ethereal being lost someplace else, he behaved like he was in a trace, he spoke and babbled like he was drunk.
He began to converse with the snakes, he confessed to his lover that they told him their secrets, their ranks. He unfolded to her how each snake came to him and told him of it’s personal poison and how he could cure himself in case he was bitten.
He told Kessime in detail of the meeting he had with the greatest of them all, a big snake it’s body as big as his thigh. The snake presented itself as the Cobra King, the most cunning and vicious of the snakes. This snake confessed that he ate it’s kin, the other poisonous snakes of the world, he was one of them but above all through visceral merciless cunning.
Linarian told Kessime in detail of the snarky remarks of the sassy snake. The king snake thought Lianrian how to make his own incense that could reveal to him the past and future, how he could use snake poison to infuse weapons, how he could make a potion to keep the poisonous snakes away from his home during the time of their awakening.
He related to Kessime the Cobra King confessed that if it were to be incarnated in a man, it will choose to be him, for Linarian is more snake in mind and spirit, than he is demon or angel. For days they struggled to get the gist of this riddle, but they couldn’t reach a coherent answer, confused and tired they let the dilemma to sleep pilled beneath mundane worries.
Linarian once took Kessime and told her to stare at the lustrous skin of a snake, it was freshly shed. All Kessime could see was the silver glow of the sunlight that was reflected on the skin. No matter how much she stared at the skin of the snake she couldn’t see anything in the pattern of black leather. But Linarian declared with a gleeful smile that he could see life in the scales, he saw them together in joys and hardships. Linarian told her they will get married and have many children. He went as far as to count them in the order of their birth: a son, twin boys, a daughter, a daughter.
A whole day passed like this, both staring at the skin in silence. Sometimes humming a low tune, or occasional whispers from Linarian, words or broken sentences that were devoid of a logical structure.
During their stay in the swamps, Kessime could swear that Linarian’s eyes were gradually turning from coal black to milky white.
It scared her how only in those lands he began to sleep with his eyes open, how he gradually developed the habit of sleepwalking. Each night he left their cramped but cozy shack, wondered through the swamps then came back before the first sun ray would hit the earth. Kessime always asked him of his nocturnal adventures, but he couldn’t remember ever stepping foot outside during the night. Days and nights passed like this, until Kessime decided to follow his to see once and for all what drew Linarian out each night.
His way of moving through the darkness, like he was dragged by an invisible hand, made her feel concerned for his safety more than suspicious, she went to follow him but lost his track in the dense cover of the moonless night.
It was as if he evaporated into nothingness, life he stepped through a portal.
She screamed his name, looked for him desperate.
Kessime almost fell into a pool of stale water if not for a giant snake that emerged from beneath the waters scaring her so hard she tumbled and fell on her back.
Kessime found him in the morning, flowing like a feather on the surface of a stale marsh, in a puddle of green moss and yellow lotus flowers. Linarian was surrounded from all sides by snake skins which had been shed.
That strange event was the last straw that made them leave the swamps that day.
Those events unsettled Kessime even now when she reminisced over those weird times when their imagination took over the reality and wrote for them a life so surreal. She inclined to believe those events to be some strange figment of imagination, but the order in which the children were born was the exact same order Linarian saw unfolded on the skin of the snake that day.
In an inn at the edge of the swamps they learned from the merchants about some lands up north with fertile earth, everflowing water, days and nights that reach the same length, circular seasons. It was as if a match was lit, Linarian recognized this was the promised land and refused to go anywhere else.
This land proved to be the safest place where they could settle, nobody knew them here, nobody cared about magic and social hierarchy.
It was the pure beginning both were craving. Here they could grow crops and hunt or fish. It was a blessed land that had balanced every extreme known to them on Sanctuary: the heat and the cold, the water and the dryness, the light and the darkness, the bareness and the fertility.
His dreams of prosperity proved to be right as life here was fruitful, it flowed quietly without disturbances or poverty.
Kessime left the window and sat on the bed, she began to swing the baby who became fussy out of a sudden.
The door opened and Linarian came in holding big chunks of wood. He went to the fireplace and slowly assembled the wood pieces into a pile. He left the room and came in with a candle.
The baby was intrigued by the noise, she rose her head from her mother’s chest and turned towards the hunched shape of her father who was trying to lit the fire. She clapped her hands together and began to babble.
“You’re already up?” He said not taking his gaze away from the little spark that stretched towards the dry barks. When Linarian saw the flame spread, he left and sat on the edge of the bed. He looked at Kessime, then at the baby who was staring at him. “It’s a bit passed the hour of the rooster.” He added and gently tugged the back of the head of the baby who smiled and kept babbling. “How’s the baby?”
“Quite fussy out of the blue.” Kessime giggled and bopped the round nose of the baby who giggled. The woman passed her palm over Linarian’s back and felt warm sweat moist in the fabric of his blouse. “It’s not even midday and you’re already breaking a sweat. Rest for a moment, the sky won’t fall.” Kessime remarked, glaring at him in concern.
Linarian could see in her bright blue eyes the concern, they were after all two bodies united in heart and mind.
“The night is for resting, the day is for working. We’ve built so much together I can’t indulge in resting when there’s so much to be done around the house. If I’ll let my duties to pile, I will suffer later.” Was all Linarian could answer, he looked into her eyes and gently tugged her shoulder, then he stretched his hand forward, reaching for the cup of water that was on the bedside of Kessime.
The baby gripped the dusty gray fabric of his sleeve and looked at it with big eyes. She babbled and leaned her head forward, but when she wanted to chew on it Kessime stopped her, she gently uncurled the small fingers of the baby off the sleeve of Linarian. This displeased the baby so greatly that she began to whimper.
“My my, what’s so intriguing about a dirty old sleeve?” Kessime spoke and moved the baby on her lap. “Is it a sign that you will be a seamstress when you’ll grow up?“ The baby knew she was spoken to and just stared at the round face of her mother that moved closer, Kessime’s rosy lips planted a kiss on her forehead.
“She’s only ninety-one days old and has an attitude.” Linarian smirked, he gently held the hands of the baby in his right palm. “Time flies so fast, they grow so fast. I remember when Sol was as small as she was. Now he’s fourteen summers old, almost as tall as you are Kessime.” Kessime pursed her lips, she slowly moved her head from left to right signaling a clear no.
Linarian chose to smirk and closed his palm around the hands of the baby who looked astonished, she tilted her head and looked around the closed palm of Linarian searching for her hands that disappeared in his grip. “We should think of a name before her one hundredth day comes.”
“Letitia wants to call her Lilly.” Kessine spoke softly, she observed how his face darkened and the smile dissolved into a sour expression.
The wood in the chimney cracked, consumed by the hungry limbs of the fire. The vermillion flame stretched high trembling menacingly.
“Lilly is quite close to Lilith.” He was sincere, but this weird answer made Kessime’s brows come closer.
“Lillianne then?” Kessime pressed further.
Linarian just broke eye contact and shook his head from left to right.
Before Kessime could continue he added. “I don’t want to be reminded of my mother when I call my daughter. I don’t want to remember of what she has done to so many that wretched day. Please, let’s look for another name.” Kessime could hear his sorrow gloss through the words, she chose to compromise.
Linarian caressed the head of the baby and looked at her. The baby had rosy checks and round dove like eyes, she let out a squeal then rose her head upwards to look at her father who watched her silently and slowly patted her head before he rose up.
“I don’t remember where I put the bottle of vodka I bought last year. Do you know anything of it?” Kessime frowned then started laughing.
“Do you want to get drunk in the morning?” She asked astonished, not able to held her amusement.
“I’m not joking, Kessime. You know I despise being drunk. By the rumble of the last days storms and the warmth of the winds the awakening of insects is upon us.” Linarian opened a chest that was placed at the end of the bed, it opened with a squeak. The sound startled the baby who started to whimper. Kessime wrapped her arms around the baby pulling her closer then she assured the baby with a soft tone that nothing scary is happening.
Linarian began to take out, one by one, the various contents stuffed inside the trunk. The soft fabrics were scattered on the bed, small boxes that contained various trinkets and charms were placed in disarray around him. With meticulous attention he opened each box, inside he found mundane trinkets and gifts from friends. “I hid it because I don’t want the children to find it and get the animals drunk like they did last year, or get the idea to drink it.” He mumbled and tossed the boxes at the bottom of the chest then folded the fabrics in one big ball that he locked back in the chest.
“You always see the big picture. But I don’t know where you put it.” Kessime glanced at him slightly, before getting up and placing the baby in the crib.
She feed the dim embers new wood that was rapidly engulfed by a slim tongue of fire.
Under the bed, he found just a box filled with pouches that held within seeds intended to be planted next spring.
Linarian rummaged through each piece of furniture in the room but found nothing. When he was riffling through a basket, he saw jars filled with dry plants. This made him remember how Kessime told him once to keep the abominations out of the house, said abominations were a jar filled by himself with dead insects he collected for the potion. He remembered vividly how, since then, he kept outside all the things related to potion crafting or various curiosities that were too strange to bring inside the house.
“Maybe I left it outside. If you need me, I’m in the barn or in the yard.” He said and left.
In the early morning, the house was silent even with many children. Linarian came to enjoy both their noise and the silence that came when they slept.
The air carried in it a fresh scent of moss that made him shiver. The sunlight felt slightly warm on his face. Linarian remembered the words of the Cobra King who told him, when the first thunders break the clouds of the young spring, when the sun feels warm to the skin, when the grass is vernal it’s the time of the awakening of all the animals that spend their winter in a lethargic hibernation: insects, snakes, bears. They wake up hungry, so hungry they forget of their fear of humans. The king gave him an alchemical formula and a spell to keep them all at bay. Vodka, mint, lavender, roots of belladonna, grained dead insects, powder of shed snake skin and ash, mixed together and poured around the house will scare insect, snake and bear.
He came into the barn and got to the table near the anvil where he held all his tools for potion crafting or field work.
He searched under the table to find a big wooden box that contained small things he collected along the years, peculiar-colored stones, seeds he intended to plant to see if they sprout, dead insects he would mix into a powder to ward off the snakes during the awakening of insects, shed snake skins he would add in the potion to ward off insects and snakes during the awakening of insects, dried roots he wanted to use for pesticides and potions, and folded in a black fabric was a small and thick bottle that held inside a translucent liquid. That was it.
‘I hid it so well even I forgot where it is.’ He laughed it off, as he looked through the translucent liquid.
Linarian opened the dusty pouch that hid away all the noxious plants needed for the potion, he smelled the bitter scent and frowned, he took the snake skins and the jar that held within the husks of various insects, then rose with his arms full.
The man took his mortar and pestle and put in the dried insects, he mixed with circular motions until the bodies of the insects couldn’t be recognized, for they turned to a fine dust akin to ash. He repeated the process until all the insects were turned into a fine powder that emanated a bitter stink. The powder was emptied at the bottom of a wooden bucket turned to a slimy shade of green by the spreading of moss.
He grinded the snake skin with the same pestle on the anvil he usually used to flatten the tongues of the shovels, the tooth of the forks.
Linarian was so preoccupied he didn’t hear the door being open.
In the room entered four children, three boys and one girl. The boys were dressed akin in black pants, grey wool slipovers, brown wool vests that were slightly too large for the youngest boys and high boots made of brown swede.
The girl wore a wool dress in the color of pale green and a grey wrap made of wool.
The youngest three followed their older brother, a tall boy who wore the sleeves of his slipover rolled up under his elbow, leaving his wrists revealed. His light chestnut hair reached his jaw, his broad forehead was covered by a thin fringe, this stylistic choice was the bud of so many jokes that came from his younger siblings.
They went straight to the window, circling around a pot. From the moist earth sprung up vernal green strands of wheat.
The twins sat on the tips of their toes. The girl was so short that she had to tip toe while holding the windowpane for support. Observing this, the eldest took the pot and held it in front of his siblings who gasped astonished then cheered.
When their father planted the wheat, Letitia said it won’t bloom because it was too cold, Cyrus and Casius were in contradiction one said it will bloom while the otter opposed – the twins were in competition all the times, while Sol knew it will bloom. It was just a feeling he couldn’t shake off.
“Whooa it bloomed.” The girl remarked astonished, looking with big eyes at the wheat.
“Dad?” The voice of Cyrus made Linarian to take his eyes away from the pot in which he was grinding the roots and the powdered snake skin. “The wheat sprung. Is all green.” The joy was radiating from the voices of the children.
“The crops will be lucky this year.” Linarian answered and returned to the potion.
“How can you know?” Letitia looked at her father who eyed her with an all-knowing gaze.
“All is connected in the world, child. The grain, the soil from the garden, the rain water are all parts of nature. If it sprouts in the pot, it will sprout in the field.” Was all Linarian answered.
“Dad, what are you doing?” The twins asked at the same time, they came to look at the dark mush dust their father was grinding with circular motions. At the same time, Letita lost interest in marveling at the green wheat.
“I’m doing the preparations for spring. I just began to craft a potion to ward off the snakes and insects.”
“You’re a little bit too late dad, spring already came, the snow melted a while ago and the grass is already green.” Letitia stared confused at her father who kept on grinding some roots in the already filled mortar.
“Spring comes not after the snow has melted, nor with the first flowers, but with the awakening of insects which takes place right before the Vernal Equinox when night and day reach the same length.” His father said as he poured vodka over the powdered mixture in the bucket. “After the last snow melts and the winds get warmer the earth prepares to be reborn in a new cycle again. The insects and snakes come out of their holes from under the earth, awaken by the first spring storms. Naturally, when they wake up from their slumber, they seek out food. Every year, during the awakening of insects, we have to be careful not to let snakes enter the barns or the home. They will bite us and our animals while we sleep and suck our blood. This mixture has the power to ward off the insects and snakes.”
Sol was taken aback by the strong smell of the vodka that unclogged his sinuses. He covered his nose and took some steps back. “I was told the smell is insufferable for the insects and snakes.” Linarian added as he stirred the mixture clockwise. “Will you help me pour it around the house and around the barn?”
“Yes.” Only Sol answered, his siblings just nodded uncertain, they weren’t in the mood for chores they wanted to have fun and play.
“Jezz, that’s a very bad smell.” Letitia winced as she covered her nose with the sleeve of her mantle.
The children took some steps back, then stared astonished at their father who kept stirring the mixture, mumbling something under his breath. It wasn’t the fact that he could suffer the strong smell without covering his nose, but his air of momentary transcended stillness that astonished the children. His eyes were staring right at the mixture, his hands moved in slow motions as he was stirring the stinky potion, his lips barely moved.
From outside, they heard their mother’s voice calling them to come to eat. The youngest three rushed outside not even a second after hearing Kessime, only Sol remained.
“Aren’t you going to eat, son?” Linarian asked some minutes late rising his eyes up from his monotonous task.
“I want to stay and help you.” He answered.
“Take those two broomsticks made of turkey feathers.” Linarian pointed towards the table to his far left. “You keep one, the other you leave for me.” Sol clutched the little feather broom like stick, the feathers were tightly held together by thick strings of rope. The once white feathers were now clad in ash and Sol wondered if they were made specially for this task.
“Let’s begin with the side of the house that is facing the sun.” Linarian said and approached a window that was left open. He dipped the little broom in the bucket submerging it almost fully, then took the little broom our, torrents of grey liquid were pouring down from it like water from the clouds when it rains, he moved it from left to right in repetitive motions. Sol did the same but on the nearest window.
“Dad, what’s it a cathedral?”
Linarian pondered as he continued to wipe the lower windowpane in the grey potion. “I don’t know, why are you asking?”
“I heard something strange and I almost can’t believe it. There came a new child in our village, he said his father left him, his brother and his mama to follow some great cause the cathedral of light. He said many men and women from his village also left their families to follow this group that preached of light and kindness.” Sol blabbered. “It’s so weird. How could people leave their parents and children behind just to help others in need? Aren’t their families also left as people in need?”
“Poor child.” Linarian gasped, his face contorted by disgust. “This dishonorable people deserve nothing but guilt for leaving their families behind.” Linarian turned his head to Sol. “I heard of them under other name, the pilgrims of light. A sect of some sorts that preaches of infinite happiness and kindness, while breaking apart families. It is unbelievable how flippant and hardhearted some can be.”
“They offer food and care of those in need, they do it selflessly. They pay for their debts, they cook for the poor. The boy said the pilgrims convinced his father to give his money and his things to those in need, to become lighter and holy. I see those as kind and selfless it is good to make the people help the others who need it, but something inside tells me it’s wrong. I can’t pinpoint what it is.” Puzzled, Sol scratched his head, then gazed towards his father for answers. He was waiting for the inner owl to be channeled. Letitia nicknamed Linarian, the owl, because her father had such original insights that proved to always be right. Because of his calculated and impartial insights that came to be true most of the times, the whole village came to know Linarian as a fair and sage man. Linarian’s advices came to help many in their times of need, help many rebuild their lives after they were knocked down, help many get out of troubles.
“This sect is a fine trickery they don’t understand that doing good isn’t offering everything you have to those in need. Selflessness is an act that breeds chaos into the world. If one wants to keep a man from starving, he should teach that man how to plant his own crops and hoe to care for them. Not feed him once in a while. A plate of food is a momentary comfort. A stretched hand in times of need will help buy also ask for the debt to be paied. A good that is done for all to see is not a sincere good.” Linarian said absentmindedly as he passed over and over on the same spot with the little broomstick.
“What do you mean?” Sol asked perplexed.
“If, let’s say, I will take your food and give it to people in need, it is not a good deed. I will fill their bellies, but keep you starving. That is not the deed of a good man. Always feeding those people will not give them any ambition or desire to get out of their misery, it will turn them into entitled parasites who give nothing but take from all sides by using their poverty as an excuse to be handed everything in life.”
His father’s entangled monologues that exposed a complex outlook on life were, most of the times, tiering to keep up with. But he got the core of it, his father was calling those people hypocrites.
“There you are, I searched for you everywhere.” Kessime said sharp, her hands crossed over her chest. She stared right at her eldest son then at her husband. “Come to eat both of you, the mush will get cold.”
“Go to eat son, I’ll join you when I’ll finish.”