It was a fine crop of berries at that. Along the
riverbank, under the scattered pines and among the gray-green clumps of lichen, the round blue ones
were deepening from red to purple as their sour taste mellowed into piquant sweetnest. Briar
patches too were heavy with their black, tangy berries, and during the daylight hours of toil,
slender pale forms would reach long fingers between thorns to gather the ripe ones.
Now Almeck extended his weakened hands carefully,
slowly relieving first one bush, then another, of its sweet burden. Even the mild tartness of the
blueberries seemed a bit too biting, an assault upon the senses of a body too recently ravaged. He
sighed. Settling back to rest --perhaps a double handful of berries later -- he scarcely noticed
when his eyes closed and his spirit slipped free of its weary shell. But suddenly he found himsef
with the revelers on the other side of the hill, surrounded by the siles and doings nof his kin.
There was Talen, his face smeared withdeer grease, lying contentedly in Selnac's arms. Marreck
cracked a marrowbone to share with Jennah, whild Menolan amused others by setting fire to a boulder
that inconveniently blocked the shorest way from the cook-fire to the spring. Enlet, returning to
the feast-circle with a drinking gourd full of water, halted to watch his father with admiring
eyes. His own fire-magic was still weak and unpredictable, and such flourishes were generally
beyond him. Almexk even saw Oraynah hunkered down happily next to the cooking fire, one hand
brandishing a roasted rib, the other making stabbing motions to punctuate whatever hunting tale she
was telling. Beyond the circle of firelight and feasting, the moons rose over the forest. Behind
the gathering of his kin, Almeck could see many dark hummocks scatter at the base of the cliff.
Some reached for the sky in odd, upward-pointed shapes, like the branches of fallen trees. There
the corpses of the blackneck herd, littering the glade at the base of the rock wall. The moons
rose silently over the carnage scene.
The herd had numbered perhaps forty, including fawns
and a smattering of gray-chins. Now all lay broken together where thy had been driven to their
deaths by the elfin hunters. Two or three hand been butchered to provide the night's feast and, of
the others, perhaps a dozen could be stripped and the meat preserved before rot and wild scavengers
rendered the kill unuseable. Some of the hides would be removed and tanned by magic, but many deer
would lie unclaimed and unused, except by the foxes and the vultures and the carrion crows.
In the glade where Almeck's body lay motionless, a
shadow detached itself from the forest and glided cautiously into the clearing. A young bobcat, a
male, sniffed suspiciously at the unfamiliar scent of elf. Unknown to Almeck, he had chosen a
resting place near the edge of the small predator's territory; the berry-rich glade was also home
to dozens of ravvits, the small cat's most favorite food. The scent of an unknown larger creature
might be enought to kee the sky feline from following his course towoard the river. But elves were
not habitual hunters of bobcats, and tonight the young male had other things to concern him. He
circled the grove on huge, noiseless pads, giving Almeck's body as wide a berth as possible, then
disappeared down the slope toward the river. A sweet scent, borne on the breeze wafting from the
riverbank, touched and tatalized the deepest part of his wild brain. It would take more than the
presense of an unconscious elf to keep the cat from answering that sweet lure tonight.
In spirit form, Almeck was attuned to a depth of
things not usually visible to him. About each body of a feaster glowed the bright aura of his or
her living spirit. The life-forms of the ground and forest glowed with a different light.
Recognizing the comforting presence of his plant acquaintences, Almeck drifted closer, close enough
to catch an occasionaly flicker of sending as thoughts made their way from one elfin mind to
another. Suddenly several minds paused, and all focused their attention upon one child, Khyra. That
youngling had not yet seen eleven summers, and now her wide blue eyes were fixed expectantly upon
the face of her mother. Her aura was bright with question and longing. The faces of her elders
reflected pain, and also guilt; several of them slid their eyes away. Almeck puzzled. What could
the child have asked? Then, slowly, faintly, one mind began to answer. An image of their sky-ship
was held up in their midst. It was Samael, and he was not projecting his own memories (for he was
one of the earth-born) but relating his version of a story once given him by an elder.
Khyra had a remarkable gift of projection. The
images she received she held up in her aura to study with her intense need to know, so clear that
even Almeck could perceive them. A flying ship was beyond her, so she imagined a great rock like a
mountain hanging suspended above the clouds. Time travel? Shapeshifting? To this child of the mud
and cold of the two-mooned world, these concepts had no reference or meaning. Samael's sending
faltered and came to and end. The firstcomers turned their heads away, their minds closed up in
pain and in sham that they could not answer. They could barely face the memories of all they had
lost, let alone communicate them to this bright, asking child. Khyra as unsatisfied; he could feel
her curiousity gathering again into another brilliant burst. THen Almeck saw Nefahrin steel herself
mentally, slide her eyes back to meet Khyra's, and begin to speak. She began to describe their
ship, their quest, their accident, using words without sending images behind them. Her mind was
strong and disciplined, and she held it completely closed. Before the Fall she had been one of the
Sighters, those who reached out through time and space to find worlds the life-sphere might like to
visit, providing direction to the motive power of the Guiders. Now her power served her for
nothing. She was a decent basket weaver, here on the world of two moons, and she used only the
words of her lips to give some sense of their origins to Khyra. Honerable, unswervingly
responsible, she could not leave the child completely in the dark. In spirit-form, Almeck could not
hear the exact workds Nefahrin spoke. But he could watch their effect upon the mind of Khyra,
whose life-glow momentarily darkened and brightened, with confusion or understanding. And now the
child formed no images at all. She could only imagine, not see, the story Nefahrin told her.
For one time in his tranquil life, Almeck was filled
with a tearing, helpless rage. His spirit blazed like skyfire as he send it swirling into the
treetops in frustration, sent it pulsing aling the life-lines of the forest around the cook-fire.
His kin were sick, they were losing the life of the mind in the mud of this alien planet! Cut off
from its healing teachings by their crippled powers, most of the levels never flet connected to
anything anymore. The creatures of fire who had survived the Fall were dying inside and their
children, born on the two-mooned world, were growing up in puzzlement and ignorance. Only Timmain
could tap into the new world's life-currents, and the measure of healing she brought to her kinfolk
was short-lived. Almeck's spirit pooled in a wide circle of green light round his still and
darkened body. Healing -- his people needed healing in spirit and in mind! They needed a way around
their pain as he had his way through the plants -- some way to make the pain disappear, to let
minds fly free again without fear. But how? Neither he nor Timmain could transfer their powers to
any other elf, just as one could not drink water for a thirsty friend or eat for one who was
starving. No possible way. He turned away in frustration, feeling there was nothing else to see
among the feasters. He gathered his spirit and prepared to reinhabit his still-quiet body.
Something caught one edge of his spirit-circle as he
was drawing inward, as though a thorn had hooked the hem of a leather cloak. It was a little bump,
or ripple in the otherwise serene web of plant life-spirits he could feel In and out of the pale
green glow of the plant-consciousness wove a chereful purple thread of -- something else. Not the
normal, red-orange glow of animal life, but an aura altered, merged with the plants' -- an
animal note but sounding in harmony with the gree. What was going on? His return to form
momentarily forgotten, Almeck drew himself over to concentracete on the little patch of mossy
ground.
The bobcat crouched on a pile of crushed herbage,
eyes narrowed to slits of pure bliss. A raspy purr rumbled in his throat. The potent scent of wild
catnip hung heavy in the moist night air. Growing in profusion among the nettles on the riverbank
its scent was irrisistible to most wild creatures of the cat family. Its essential oils, inhaled,
touched the most ancient parts of a feline's brain, setting off a cascade of emotions and
responses. Earlier the woods along the river had been witness to a most extraordinaty scene: the
normally reserved and graceful young bobcat pouncing like a kitten into the patch of catnip, biting
eagerly at the minty leaves, releasing more of the intoxicating scent with every stem he crushed.
He rolled and wriggled on the ground, strangely reminiscent of a female bobcat in heat., and indeed
the sensations coursing through his brain might well have resembled those of a female in the grip
of sweet spring mating madness. His initial euphoric energy spent, the cat was content now to
remain blissfully still, enjoying the strange state of catnip catatonia.
A beautiful incongruity -- a feline spirit
wandinering freely in the world-green! Almeck had not seen anything like it before on this planet
-- but then how often had he truely seen the green before Timmain showed him the key to its
secrets? Hovering by the bobcat's entranced body, he sensed it's life-force near, its spirit
padding lazily through the forest's essence as its body would in life. He had an impression of
great eyes turning to regard him. The cat was aware of him, but unconcerned. The cat drew Almeck's
attention back toward the life-glow of the forest. The music of the world was open to him; he could
catch it in his claws like little rodents, romp through it like a pile of autumn leaves. Almeck
felt the tug of that song on his own heart. He smiled sadly at that ironly. Now here was a mortal
creature born to live a few seasons at best on this primitive world; for all the subtleties of the
elfin people, for all their ages of sentience and eons of complexity, his folk could not equal the
simply wisdom of the cat. Once his people had had community -- as "one heart and one mind"
had been their seperate hearts and minds, and no heart needed to shut itself up in grief when,
ever and always, comfort was as close as the touch of a neighboring mind. Now comfort was elusive,
misunderstanding flared and smoldered, and madness stalked their grief-enshrouded souls. Unlike the
earth-born cat, the elves no longer knew their road to unity.
The bobcat's spirit was returning; the simple power
of the catnip was clearing from its brain. It stirred in its trance. Now himself, now one with the
world, the cat blinked. A good night's wander was coming to an end as the drug wore off. Almeck
sensed that perhaps he, too, should take up his flesh again. The eyes of the cat's settling spirit
met his once more as he backed ofrom the bobcat's grove. How could he help but envy this animal,
who was at peace with himself in a way the elves could not match anymore? One heart and one mind,
thought Almeck as he lay back down into his body. One heart and one mind -- not anymore! Almeck
felt the tingling of his spirit's return to flesh.
Suddenly, revelation struck! Heedless of the spots
that swam before his eyes, Almeck started up so suddenly that he lost his balance. He stumbled into
the bushes with a resounding crash. Ten feet away a bobcat jumped up, eyes round as the two full
moon, and fled away like skyfire into the darkened forest. The answer was before him! Bodies: it
was their bodies that were the problem. And plant essences could influence their bodies! He felt
like running over the hill shouting the news to his ailing kinfolk. The answer! The cure! The end
to all our sickness! But telling them without showing them would not bring them the certainty that
he suddenly felt -- he had seen things most of the others had no inkling of, and in their weakened
state he might seem merely another madman in their midst. He would do his work and set it before
them finished, smiling. He looked around the grove. Was there something he could use? Yes, here was
something right at had that would suffice! A tremendous joy ran through him. At last, perhaps, he
could use his powers for lasting good for his friends and kinfolk. He knelt on the soft green moss
and took one berry bush's slender twigs between his fingers. He took a moment to discipline his
mind then slipped into a shaper's trance and felt his life-force flowing out into the green,
mingling with the pulsing life around him. His mind and body reverberated with the opening music of
the world-song, and now he joined his spirit-voice to that song. He was being swept away in a river
of green and he reveled in the river. He bent his will to teach the little plant to sing in harmony
with the alien voices from the stars. The living wood responded; he could feel the change
imprinting on the life-codes of the green being he held in his hands. Mutation moved like sunrise,
first lighting one bush, then the next in the small grove around him. He did not notice when his
spirit danced free of his body, set free by his shaper's magic. The green glow faded from his hands
and from around the berry bushes. They held their fat and juicy cargo with new dignity, as though
keeping a pregnant secret within. Almeck's soul shouted and ran though the world-green, reunited,
at one with the world and with joy. There was nothing he could not do, all places in the world were
one. He gave a thought to the land of frozen mountains, and to his surprise he seemed to see the
Palace, as if from a great height -- was it full of ice? No, that was a mistake -- his vision
cleared and it glowed with its warm and welcoming light -- and in the doorway, arms wide -- was
that Seeree? In the green?! He laughed, and flowers climbed the walls; behind Seeree , a throng of
old friends and companions, waving up at him, laughing and shouting. Dimly he felt a tug from
another place, a pale elf-body slumped on a carpet of moss in a twilight forest far away. But why
hurry? All time and space had opened wide for him, and here and now were his old friends, welcoming
him back, alive, rejoicing, and the Palace, long-list home, warm and golden as the summer sun!
There was no one left in the grove to notice the subtle change in the glossy leaves, in the way the
heavy purple berries gleamed ripe in the moonlight. Almeck had so much to tell his old friends!
It was only later that Samael, coming over the hill
with a bowl of steaming broth, found Almeck's still form slumped beside the berry bushes. At his
cry Enlet and Timmain were the first two over the hill and Segray came running with her bag of
herbs. Samael watched with tears starting as the healer kneltbeside the body, only to confirm , as
she touched Almeck, what the three knew already: these Fallen had seen death much too often not to
recognize when it claimed one of their own. Almeck's body lay still in the quiet moonlight as the
tribe straggled over the hill to gather silently about him.
The faces of the firstcomers were frozen, numb,
perhaps , to new grief in a world that seemed to hand them noting but endless causes for sorrow.
From the younger, questions and confusion filled the air: ** He wasn't that ill! How
could he die from sickness? ** ** Who saw him last? Was anything wrong with him this
afternoon? ** ** He'd been a bit touched for a while, you know. ** **
Yes, and now the white-cold's coming! What will we do when summer tree-bowers need their
winter mending? **
Samael bent to the vegitation. "But -- Look --
Timmain -- these bushes!" Samael had noticed the subtle change in the ones closet to the body.
The berries gleamed fat and purplescent, larger than before, and a faint magic vibration still
clung to the leaves. As Timmain broke a twig off the nearest bush, twirling it thoughtfully between
her fingers, Enlet pushed forward. "To use his last strength to shape a berry bush?
Instead of calling for help? Why, Timmain? What would he have been thinking?!" The red-haired
youth was close to tears. Handing him a purplescent berry, she stared thoughtfully at the juice now
staining her fingers. Samael looked on, confusion knitting his brow. "Timmain, why do you
think he made these? So -- So we would remember him?"
Timmain looked around the grove, noting the many
bushes that now gleamed with that new, changed light. Fat juicy dark berries nestled under every
leaf. Her eyes aquired a far-off expression, as though recalling a green place where fear and
sorrow were forgotten. "Yes, " she said. "We will remember."
This story is an exerpt from 'In Memory Green' which
appeared in Dark Hours, Blood of Ten Chiefs Vol 5
Written by:A. Cascorbi & R Pini
Copyright Warp Graphics
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