Luthold felt as though he were lost on an ocean. At least, this was how he imagined it must be. The unbounded expanse of water was the only thing he had to compare this terrain with. They walked on what his father had called 'the plain.’ Gurithen had described it to his son as a place of openness and quiet, with endless possibilities for unobstructed travel – flat land as far as the eye could see that was firm and easy to walk on. It had sounded incredible, but it was terrifying to experience. The only point of reference lay behind them, and that was the place they were fleeing from. This void of a landscape provided nothing to move towards. Immediately after escaping the forest they had spread out, to avoid giving the soldiers a single target to chase after. But now they remained scattered, without a leader. Only a few days ago he would have stepped into that vacuum. Now he just walked on until he realised that the two of them walked alone. Winilind slipped against his arm, and he stopped to pull her up.

  “I just tripped.”

  “There’s nothing to trip on. You’re tired.”

  “So are you.”

  He stopped and looked back.

  “No soldiers are following. We should stop.”

  They sank to the ground and lay on their backs. They watched the sky grow dark around them.

  “Everyone is scattered. Do you think this is it?” Luthold asked, “If we could at least find Ada...”

  Winilind's hand closed around his.

  “We’ll find Ada. We didn’t do all of this to lose her now. Just a short rest, and then we’ll find her in the daylight.”

  He sighed. The first of the stars emerged in the sky. Her fingers gripped his more tightly. Night fell and silence surrounded them. The air was warm. In the darkness, Luthold rolled over until his body rested on hers. Their fingers found their way beneath their clothes and he moved closer still.

  And, although only a handsbreadth of space had separated them, he felt as though he crossed over mountains and rivers that had lain between them.

  It was Adalina who found them in the morning light, entwined in each others' arms like a pair of young lovers.

  “Mother, Father, wake up! What are you doing sleeping here? The soldiers could have come. Get up, Father. Come on, let’s go.”

  “How did you find us?” Winilind sat up and rubbed her head.

  “The sea raven spotted you. It’s looking for the others now.” She pointed towards the forest; a low, dark line in the distance. “And it’s flying back and forth to confound any pursuit.”

  “You sound very intimate with this spirit,” Luthold joked, but there was admiration in his voice. Adalina smiled bashfully.

  “I’ve been talking to its master. The one who made the gate for us.”

  Winilind recalled those frantic moments. She remembered little other than confusion, bodies pressed against hers and the emptiness in her stomach when she became sure they would die, herded together and clamouring like stuck sheep. Then that stranger came...

  “The medicine man.” She pulled away from Adalina as though her touch might be dangerous. “That’s who you’ve been speaking to.”

  “It’s ok, Mother.” Her daughter took her arm by the elbow and urged her to stand. “He helped us.”

  Winilind stood but moved no further. “What else has this man talked about? I refuse to believe you have not asked him about your brother.”

  “Of course I’ve asked him about Oli. Mother, now isn’t the time-”

  “Don’t you tell me when it is or isn’t time to hear about my son!” Winilind shouted.

  “I’m sorry.” Adalina looked down. “I didn’t know when or how... I...” She closed her eyes and when she opened them, she looked directly at Winilind. “He is dead, Mother. Kastor has seen a body.”

  “Do you believe him?” asked Winilind quietly.

  “He found it with Elder Joturn. I think we’re only alive now because of Oli. I'll tell you what I know while we walk. Please. We found a place with water and a small hill.”

  “Lead the way,” Winilind mumbled. She looked across at Luthold.

  “Sacrifice,” he rasped, and the tears cut two clean lines through the dust on his face.

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  By midday, they re-joined the rest of the clan. It was like joining a congregation of statues. Winilind stood beside Thilo and Lien. For a moment, she forgot the sides they had each picked. She looked at Lien, who held a bundle tightly wrapped to her chest and felt a jolt of fear.

  “The baby! How is he?”

  Lien removed the cloth at the top to reveal a pale, peaceful face.

  “Shh,” she whispered. “He’s sleeping and I’ve no milk if he wakes.”

  For a moment, Winilind feared that Lien was delusional. Then she saw the little nose twitch and the infant sniff. Lien covered him quickly and smiled. Winilind smiled too.

  “He survived it. Sleepers, soldiers and battles. He survived it all.”

  “I chose a name for him,” Lien replied, still whispering.

  “Finally. What is it?”

  “Luck.”

  “Baby Luck,” Winilind repeated, turning the word over in her mouth. No one had ever been called that before. It wasn’t a proper name. But then, none of them had ever left the forest before either.

  “We’ll need him with us.”

  She found Pasha sitting, staring out across the plain through wide eyes, and she cradled the girl inside her cloak. Together, they watched Adalina pass from family to family, at times depositing children who had lost their relatives with those who had none to care for, like a horrible matching game. Pasha fell asleep before the last group of clansfolk were shepherded over. Winilind almost rubbed Pasha’s shoulder to wake her when she saw Beresa in the crowd. But she could not see the girl’s father, and chose to let Pasha’s slumber continue. When Mildred arrived, the crowd finally cheered. Mildred smiled. The medicine man went straight to her side and for a long time they remained locked in an intimate discussion. When they had finished, Adalina finally brought him to Winilind and Luthold.

  “This is Kastor,” said Adalina.

  “Hello, Kastor,” said Winilind.

  Luthold said nothing.

  “I’ve already met your daughter.” Kastor smiled at Adalina. Winilind noticed how young he was. Or perhaps that was some witchcraft that smoothed the lines of age. Perhaps he was the same old man they had struck a deal with years ago. The bird, returning from one of its searches, landed nearby to admiring murmurs from those watching.

  “We are Oli's parents,” said Luthold, breaking his silence. "We deserve to know all you can tell of him."

  A small audience was growing surreptitiously around them.

  “We could walk some way over there.” Kastor pointed away from the clan.

  “We don’t have secrets,” said Luthold. “Not anymore.”

  The private discussion became a clan gathering. Winilind did not mind. When her husband said they no longer had secrets, she edged closer to him and his arm rested around her shoulders.

  “I am the last of the medicine men. I stumbled into the end of their line through reckless folly. I apprenticed myself to a man that lived by the waterfall. The same man you once met.”

  Winilind pulled her cloak tighter against the chill she suddenly felt.

  “He was in the final years of his long life. He must have been one of the greatest they ever had, because he held on to his sanity as madness claimed the rest of his peers. He’d concocted some plan to save his kind; to save the whole forest. He wanted to make a sacrifice."

  Eyes turned to Winilind and Luthold, but this time they contained a little sympathy.

  “He told me that I would continue the search after he was gone, but we soon found I could not manage the task.”

  Kastor lowered his head.

  “The madness began to steal over me as soon as I was initiated. The rot that had crept through his disciplined mind bit by bit, spread through mine like it was a hewn trunk left out in the rain. Soon, we were both raving at each other. We drove each other deeper into the depths of misery and bitterness with every passing day and... and in the end...”

  Now the young man looked up and the pain on his face was clear. This was not the ineffable, devious expression of the old man she had met. She wanted to believe that this one was different.

  “In the end I killed him.”

  The assembled audience made no response. A few glances were exchanged, but no consensus formed in those wordless looks. Who knew if it was a good or bad thing for an evil old sorcerer to be murdered by his hapless apprentice?

  “I fled the scene, pursued by my master’s familiar. As he died beneath my blows, he commanded his servant, itself corrupted through its bond to him, to protect me. Perhaps he hoped that I would continue his search. Or perhaps he regretted, close to the end, how things had been between us. Whatever the reason, I soon found what he had been searching for, though I did not recognise it at first.

  "I stumbled upon a small boy on my travels. Something about him intrigued and frightened me. I saved him from being captured by the Republican soldiers, but I could not help the friend he was looking for."

  Winilind’s eyes sought Heridan in the crowd, who moved suddenly closer.

  “We travelled together. In his presence, my madness and confusion seemed to lessen.”

  Kastor told of a journey across the forest, escaping sleepers, meeting one of their missing elders and finally delving into the caves of the Hoarders. Winilind’s heart ached as he described his growing affection for the stubborn, strange boy whose charms she thought only his family would ever see. He described how Oli would always choose loyalty over an easier decision – how he was willing to fight soldiers for Ingo's freedom and willing to risk his own life for Kastor's. Finally, he told of his dawning understanding of Oli’s nature.

  “It did not surprise me to learn the story of his birth. He seemed to possess the gift already.” Kastor blinked and shook his head. “It was more than that. He was the gift.” He looked squarely at Winilind and Luthold. “He was medicine. Medicine made to heal a wound. I am sure of it, because the wound is now healed. He was seen walking into the lake. He must have understood. He wanted more than anything to go there. I tried to stop him but... I failed.”

  “A convenient failure for you, wasn’t it?” Aimar spoke out.

  “Yes,” replied Kastor. “But a failure nonetheless. I do not value my own life above a child’s. Not that child’s, especially.”

  “He saved you,” Luthold stated. “He gave your kind his life as a gift. He gave the forest his life as a gift.” Luthold’s voice was confident and clear for the first time since his disgrace.

  Kastor nodded. “He did.”

  “And in saving you, he saved us all.”

  A few grunts of agreement went up here and there, followed by some shouts of praise. Then Aimar stood and held a near empty water pouch up against the light of the setting sun and said: “To Oli.” Heridan stood and repeated the his gesture, looking straight at Luthold and Winilind as he spoke.

  The salute caught on and soon everyone called out her son’s name. Everyone but her and her husband, who watched and listened in amazement. Oli had finally been accepted in the clan. If only he could have been there to see it.

  here to my newsletter. The first article will be an exploration of the gods and magic system in my world and where that comes from both in terms of storytelling and my own reflections on the themes they stem from.