“I’d be honored.”
Fromer gently lifted the blade, pulled it out, and then swung it lightly in the air against an invisible opponent. His movements were fluid and balanced. I was impressed. This god was made for war.
Light appeared on the horizon and Fromer appeared to recede. “I must go now.” He set down the sword.
Father shook his head, picking up the blade and handing it to our new friend. “Fromer you can’t go on without this. It was certainly fashioned for you. I didn’t realize it at the time. But you’ve got to have it.”
Fromer smiled, grabbed the weapon and its sheath, and leapt out the door. When I ran to the awning, he had vanished. The first beam of sunlight tickled the dew. “He’s gone father.”
“Oh, I’d reckon he’ll be back. Wait ’til we tell the others in town about this.”
“Father, are you considering telling people? They’ll never believe us. If you weren’t so valuable as a smith and me as the garden tender, they’d cast us out as touched or worse yet possessed. I’m not sure I believe what we just saw. How’d we convince others?”
“At the very least, you must tell Wenn, Amy. He’ll be your husband soon. As family, he’ll be mixed up in this at some time.”
Conflict boiled up within me. Wenn had been my choice. But, while Wenn served as an able successor to father’s post in town and as a future father to my children, I still felt separate from him. I had secrets that I wouldn’t share with anyone, including that man. Telling him about the god Fromer or whatever it was that we met didn’t feel right. For father, Wenn was a son, confidant, and unfortunately a drinking partner. I knew that there was no avoiding this revelation. If I didn’t do it, the shine in father would do it for me.
The next evening at supper, Wenn, father, and I were talking about routine matters of the day. The forge needed a new roof, the new group of students in the gardens was lazy, and fall was arriving earlier than usual. I suddenly heard myself talking. “Wenn, father and I have something to tell you. You’ll never believe it — and perhaps that’s best. Maybe we were imagining it ourselves.”
Wenn turned toward me and tilted his head. “What’s going on? You got my attention.”
Father shifted uncomfortably in his chair and took a long drink. I began recounting the events of the previous night. Father stayed silent. I guess I was traveling solo on this.
Wenn’s dark eyes searched me. “If this be a prank, I’d like to know what you’re trying to do. You’re tellin’ me that you two were visited by some giant glowing god last night and that you’re part of some grand scheme to protect us all. Protect us from what?”
I huff. “Father, I knew we shouldn’t have told him.” I wasn’t surprised by Wenn’s reaction. However, I was hoping he’d be less skeptical.
“Now Amy. Relax. I believe that you two saw something. But I can’t see how we’d be chosen for anything like this. We’re just normal folks.”
I wanted to tell Wenn that he wasn’t chosen. It was me and perhaps father. At the time, Wenn was off drinking with his mates. But no need to enflame the situation.
“Wenn, you’re right.” I pushed my chair back and gave father my best threatening glare. “Let’s leave this be. Father and I saw something that we can’t explain. And father’s best long sword just disappeared from the armory. I suppose that it may have been stolen rather than gifted. I think we should just let this go until we have more proof.”
Wenn took a long draught of honey wine. “Agreed then. Can you hand me another biscuit?”
For the next few months as the weather cooled and the days dwindled, I waited each evening in the dark breeze for the god Fromer to return. The crickets grew quiet and the wind turned bitter. It finally occurred to me that I must move on with life and let the routine drag me along.
Although I gave up on reuniting with Fromer, vivid dreams invaded my slumber. My mother appeared in most of the visions, although she seldom said a word. She looked glorious. The green creatures also visited my sleep. In these dreams, they were solid and real, rather than shimmering reflections in the woods. I could touch their bark-covered hands and feel how the skin of their faces felt like the velvet of a deer antler. They’d often bring me beautiful flowers and handfuls of grain. The dreams were peculiar in that I remember the smells better than the sights. I found myself waking, swearing that I was engulfed in rose petals, fresh hay, or unfortunately, on some occasions, rancid eggs.
Fromer appeared in only one dream, which I remember well. He looked different than before, with his skin tattered and scuffed. His eyes were grey and his little hair patch was the color of cream. He smiled, leaning on the sword as if it was a cane. When I tried to speak, he shook his head and pointed upward. I looked into the dream-sky and saw a golden cloud swirling impossibly close to my head. Faces of humans and other creatures, some resembling the god Fromer and many other beings I could not recognize, looking down at me. The urge to float into the mass, releasing myself, was overwhelming. As I rose, the light dimmed and my eyes opened to see the drab, wooden ceiling over my bed.
Spring arrived and the time for Wenn and I to marry followed. This didn’t mean that I could stop toiling in the garden complex. Rather, each night after tilling, sowing, and weeding, I found myself listening to the drone of my aunts and cousins about the upcoming festivities and how excited I should be. Even then, I felt tired, angry, and conflicted. The marriage of the garden tender is one of the most celebrated events in any village. The thinking goes that my womb is somehow linked to the fertility of the gardens. Lucky for Wenn, I suppose. However, the thought of going through the week-long celebration, returning to the gardens, and tending to a family as well as Wenn and father wasn’t sitting well. Duty be damned. Fromer’s shimmering sky was burned in my mind and I couldn’t shake the image.
Chapter 47 – Cold Front
My roaming thoughts of the past dissolve as the door opens and cold air rushes into the room. Wenn and father have returned from Wagnet’s, apparently well-fed and watered. They reek of woodsmoke, tobacco, and shine.
“Amy darling, we’re home.” Wenn barks. “No need to make us anything to eat. Farling Wagnet had some leftover potatoes and roasted venison flank. We promised to sharpen his best knives if he fed us.” Both men strip off their cloaks and throw them on the floor.
I am mildly annoyed and relieved simultaneously. “Thanks for the heads up men. I wasn’t going to cook for you anyway. So, this worked out for all of us. I see Farling provided you with some spirits. Did you get those drinks for a song as well?”
Wenn stumbles up to me and plants a wet kiss on my neck. Heat radiates from his skin and his mild, masculine scent wafts into my nostrils. His strong hands knead my shoulders and I suddenly remember why I love the oaf.
Then he ruins the moment. “Theo’ll be here soon. He’s got some mighty exciting news about the fallen city to the south. Dad and I are giving some serious thought to his ideas.”
I pull away from Wenn and finish my cooled cup of brandy in an angry gulp. “If this is about trying to extract jewels and precious metals from the wreckage of that place, you’ll be going only if you can pass me. I’m not going to lose what’s left of my family to greed. We don’t need to trade in worthless items with questionable value. That’s what wiped out our ancestors.”
Father responds from the back of the room. “Amy, we don’t know if the ancient ones were our kin. And why do you think trying to make things a bit more comfortable led to their end? Teacher says they were trying to be godlike, not trying to get a few chickens or another pony. Wait ‘til Theo shows and we can talk more.”