The Lake

Part I

I will not pass judgment on my father. He appeared late one night at my mother’s door, cold, hungry and soaked through, as if he had walked out of the lake. It was not surprising that the villagers would not take him in and no surprise that my mother did. He did not stay long, only a few months. When he left, he promised my mother that he would come back before winter.

He never returned.

The circumstance of my birth, combined with my mother’s reputation for sorcery, convinced the villagers that I was the son of the demon and bearer of infernal powers.

In every other respect I seemed to be a normal child. I had no reason to suppose that the villagers’ hasty conclusions might be nearer the truth than I thought, until my tenth year. At first there was little to show that I was unusual, nothing more than a coincidental dream.

In the dream, I ran through the forest, playing keep-away with my dog, Rags. Rags had been my dog since I was seven. He was not a noble dog. He was a mutt and a particularly patchy one at that. But he was my mutt and he didn’t care what the villagers thought of me.

I managed to pry the stick from his mouth and we tumbled to the ground, laughing and barking exuberantly. Suddenly, we were silenced by the echoing howl of a wolf. Rags paused, ears perked and nose twitching. The wolf howled again. This time Rags answered, not in greeting but with a hunting cry as he tore off into the suddenly night-dark forest.

The wolf’s cry came again, calling Rags, calling me. As he ran through the night, the dog and I became tangled together until I could no longer tell what part of my thought was mine and what part was his. I saw the forest in different shades and I heard the wolf’s cry as if it were right next to me. I knew where the cry was coming from. I could smell the wolf; her terrible, musky, yet alluring scent. I saw the eyes, glowing in the darkness. The she-wolf greeted me as she stepped out of the forest and I woke.

I dismissed it at first as a chance nightmare but when it came again, I began to worry. There was only one thing that I could do. I told my mother. She did not think it was anything to worry about; she thought it nothing more then a childish dream. When I kept trying to convince her that something was going to happen to Rags she gave me a rope and told me to tie him up.

After a week it seemed that all trouble had passed, I began to doubt the truth of the dream. Why had I thought that it told the future?

Rags looked at me so reproachfully that morning that I relented and untied him. He immediately forgave me for tying him up and began wagging his tail and barking at me to follow him. He picked up a stick, ready to play. I took it and we fought for it until he broke away and ran towards the forest. I followed. We were deep in the forest before I realized that we were walking in the dream. The light fell just as it had before and Rags was moving towards me like he had in the dream. This was it. My laughter was strained this time, waiting for the next sound.

The cry of a wolf sounded, mournful in the distance.

Rags sat up, scenting the changing wind and listening to the last echoing notes of the howl. It sounded again, he answered with the same hunting call.

“No!” I shouted and I felt a release of power. Something in me reached out and held rags in place. I stood, trembling at the change I had worked. Rags looked at me reproachfully. A moment later, I heard the wolf again, this time much closer. Rags turned: the first thing I saw were the eyes. The she-wolf stepped out of the forest, grey and black mottled together in the filtered green light, golden eyes aglow.

I was trembling. I had changed the actions foretold by the dream.

The wolf looked at me for a moment and then turned to Rags, who gave a pleading whine as he strained against the bonds that held him. When the wolf moved, it was with frightening speed, towards me. I felt the magic that held Rags relax. He leapt in front of the wolf, prepared to die defending me. The wolf did not hesitate, she knocked him aside. Rags pulled himself back to his feet, despite obvious pain. He jumped again and caught the she-wolf by the back leg. Enraged, she whirled and tore out his throat with one quick motion. Rags fell without a sound and lay limp.

The wolf turned again towards me and leapt, muzzle still wet with Rags’ blood. I do not know exactly what happened next; I pulled away as the scene was swallowed by a blinding flash of light. I picked myself up from the ground, thinking that it must have been another dream. But there was Rags’ torn body and the unmarred corpse of a grey wolf.

Looking back I can see the choice, I can see where I went wrong; Rags was not slain in the dream.

One of the villagers found me where I had collapsed from the shock of using my magic for the first time. I do not know whether he acted out of fear or pity, but he carried me to my mother. Rumor of the incident spread quickly and the tale grew in the telling. The villagers soon believed that I had sacrificed my dog and a hunting wolf to the devil and received even more dark power.

Before my reputation for dark magic was confirmed in the sacrifice of my dog, most of the villagers had been willing to talk to me, though they all tried to avoid me to some extent. They had always done what I wanted; whether from fear or from some power of persuasion, I do not know. Now they began to think that I was able to convince them to do whatever I wanted. They decided to have no part in my dark schemes: they tried to avoid me as much as possible. I managed to convince even myself that I did not want them to notice me in the first place. I began to take more interest in their lives, watching their comings and goings.

I think that I saw more than they would have guessed, certainly more than they would have been comfortable with. I could look at them and see the relationships; the rivalries, the worries. I could see their lives in part just by looking at them. I saw what no one else did. I took these snippets of life for granted; as I walked through the village, I saw the whole story. It bolstered me in my separation and made me realize how human they were, even in their fear of my power.

My powers of prediction went deeper than my dreams, which were difficult to understand at best. I know now that the dreams were only to tell me that a choice was coming, they were not to tell me what would be best, or to warn me of what would happen if I failed. They were to show me one possible course; the rest was up to me.

Part II

A few years passed; it was fall and I watched the village from my perch in an old oak that grew in the square. Fain, one of the village hunters was leaving; he was to travel to one of the two nearby fort-cities.

Our lord had requested a scout who was familiar with the border and the terrain on both sides. Fain accepted the summons and prepared to leave, even though he would be leaving a young daughter behind. Two young men would travel with him to the castle. The young men were trying to hurry Fain. They were eager to be going, it seemed, but he was reluctant.

Fain made a somewhat hasty, but heartfelt goodbye to his daughter and left the village. Dunwyn sat on the porch where he had left her. Fain only looked back once and winced when he saw her crying.

I jumped down from the tree and approached her, placing a hand on her shoulder. She looked up at me, frightened by my presence. I did what I could to calm her. “Don’t worry. You will see your father again. “

I do not know why, but she trusted me, she trusted the forked tongue of the father of lies. I knew it was true, but I did not think of every possible meaning. Maybe my words changed nothing and I only spoke truth. I did not speak to her again until her father returned. He came home alone; none of the men who had gone with him survived. The soldiers were all dead; only he had escaped the barbarian raiders.

The patrol had been ambushed and totally destroyed. He alone had survived. Somehow, the raiders had not noticed him, they did not touch him but he was forced to watch as they brutally slaughtered the entire party. Fain was greeted by his joyful daughter, who told him of my prediction. Fain felt that he owed me his life, and he feared me for it.

The rumor spread, this time little exaggerated; I was an abomination in their eyes and all I had done was tell the truth as I saw it. But Dunwyn trusted me, I had told her true and she had seen her father come home again. She did not consider my prophesy as the others had. Where they saw me slay an entire patrol of trained soldiers with a word, she saw me protecting her father. And she loved me for it. She became the only friend I had. Dunwyn became closer to me then even my mother. I spent much of my time with Dunwyn after that, we talked and played games and the others left us alone. Even her father did not keep her from being with me; he felt both indebted and cursed by me.

I do not truly know what I was to Dunwyn, only that she seemed content to be with me, even though the other villagers shunned her for it.

It was the late in the day, we were alone in a secluded part of the forest, glorying in the reborn splendor of spring, birds and small animals filled the forest around us with chattering. I attempted to explain what I heard the animals saying; to share the joy they took in their simple lives the same way that they shared it with me, but the words were hard to come by. Dunwyn looked up at me with dreamy eyes as I struggled for words, her chin resting on folded hands as she lay on the tree-branch. “Can you teach me to hear them?”

I was somewhat surprised at her question. Could I teach her what I knew? I almost said that I did not know before I realized that that would not be true. I did know. I could give her a part of my knowledge, but at what price?

She looked up at me, sensing a part of my thought. “What are you afraid of?”

I dropped my gaze for a moment. “I am afraid of what I am. . . of what I might become. O”

She remained silent for a moment, her usual cheerful countenance faded and her bright blue eyes radiated concern. “I do not know what you will become, but I cannot see it as something to fear,” she said. “As to what you are,” she grinned. “You are my friend; there is nothing to fear in that.”

I smiled, but my worry did not completely leave me. “I will try to teach you, though it will be hard.”

And it was hard. She did not learn quickly but it was impossible to be frustrated at her, she tried so hard and enjoyed her progress so much.

It took a few years, but in the end she was able to speak with almost any kind of animal. The animals loved her for it and she soon acquired quite a following among the woodland creatures. Then she suddenly stopped coming. At first, I feared that her father was keeping her in. Then I had the dream.

It was not the same as the first. It did not seem to be directing my magic, just asking for a choice, and not even one that I would have hesitated at making. All it did was tell me that now was the time to make it.

Dunwyn was dying, lying on her bed, pale and fevered. Her father was talking in the background. “First he thrusts me into the battle and forces me to watch as my friends are slain only to leave me alive and steal my daughter from me. Now he has decided to take her from me completely.”

The next day I rose and went to Dunwyn’s house. Fain opened the door, looking worn and tired; he went cold when he saw me.

“You,” he snarled.

I could see the hate and anger welling up in him, and it hurt me like nothing I had ever felt before. I saw myself through his eyes: a monster intent on destroying his soul.

“Go away.” He said. “Go away and leave us alone.”

When I told my mother she began stuffing various dried herbs in her cloth bag.

“You cannot help me here.” She gave me a shrewd look. “He would not let you near her. It’s not your fault and this time there is nothing you can do about it.”

It took a week but in the end my mother brought Dunwyn back to health. She was able to leave the house but she was no longer allowed to speak with me.

Fain would not even speak with me himself, afraid that I would talk his daughter away from him. I was bitter. I even hated him for taking my only friend away from me. My hatred receded with the first messenger she sent, a small grey squirrel.

Part III

The next months were difficult for me. I was plagued with strange dreams, waking and sleeping, but they did not seem true dreams. If it were not for their strength I would have discounted them as nothing more then normal nightmares and worries.

The dreams were muddled and confused, terrible and sorrowful images swirled together into a frighteningly chaotic vision, all the more fearful for its ambiguity.

I feared that they were foretelling dreams, but I could not understand them.

In every way I could make out they seemed to be foretelling the destruction of our village, the burning, the images of my mother, Dunwyn and other villagers dying in terrible ways. I could not bear them, but I could not rid myself of them.

I grew weak from lack of sleep.

After a month the village was still there and I was forced to reconsider what the dreams were telling me.

If they were like the previous dreams, they were a signpost, warning me of a coming choice and giving me a glimpse of what lay down the path, but only showing one possible way.

I woke early after a repetition of the same dream; I recognized it now in many guises.

Our stick-and-stone house was cold as it always was in the early morning. The only light came from the small fire, where my mother was preparing some strange draught. I was not aware of any noise I had made, yet she looked up at me over the fire.

“Good morning” she said, gently. Her eyes caught the light of the fire, flashing golden and shimmering in the reflected light. She seemed alive as I had never seen her before. “I know you are awake. I have a task for you; to take your mind off the dream.”

“How can I? It is a choice that I do not understand.”

“So you cannot see all the ways ahead. You are not God nor are you the Devil. Does that not comfort you?”

I had never thought of it like that. I had expected to know what was ahead and what way I should choose. I could only nod.

“There are some things in this life that no one can know; you cannot change the course of time.” She paused. “I need some more Dragonheart. Run to the lake and fetch some.”

I slid out of bed and pulled on my cloak as I left. My mother had taught me something of herb-lore; I was familiar with many of the local herbs, and many of their uses. There was true knowledge behind much of the show that my mother used to keep her reputation as a herb-witch.

There was little to distract me from my worries as I made my way through the village. I would often go around the village to avoid the fearful stares, but this early in the morning there would be few people. There was another, darker reason that led me through the village; I feared that it would vanish before I could see it again.

The village was all that I knew; it was all that I loved.

The dream had come to me as a warning; if it was shown to me there must be something I could do to stop it. But would I know it when the time came?

A low fog had overflowed the confines of the lake during the night, shrouding everything, blurring distinctions, softening the world. The mist calmed me. it made me feel like I was truly at home. Nobody could tell who I was from a distance. Nobody else purposefully walked in it, the villagers feared the fog that came from the lake. It changed things it touched, strange creatures were said to come from the fog, and voices. Things also disappeared in the fog, animals, crops, even young children sometimes, but I knew it would not harm me.

The villagers said that may father had come from the lake, it was my beginning, and I felt somehow, my destiny.

I had never been all the way to the lake in this kind of weather before. I had felt the pull before, but I had resisted it.

At the waters edge the mist seemed to open upwards, and outwards. I could see the shore on either side where the forest crept down to the waterline. The water of the lake seemed to ripple with a life of its own, making everything dance in its reflection.

I searched for the peculiar wildflower known as Dragonheart.

It was a long-stemmed flower with thin leaves, blooming in both the spring and the fall in varying shades of bright red or blue. The only place I had ever found Dragonheart was by the shores of the Lake, either a short ways into the water or the forest. I made a careful search, making sure to collect some of the other plants and herbs that my mother would use in her potions. It took me a while but I found the plant I was looking for; a cluster of Dragonheart grew from water, showing clearly bright blue against the moving grayness of the fog.

I waded out to pick the flowers, as I did so I noticed movement in the lake beneath me. I looked down and saw the ghostly image of a lady in a white robe watching me.

Her pale face was turned towards me. Piercing crystal blue eyes holding me in my place as her hair swirled about in the current of the lake.

She nodded once before she vanished back into the depths of the lake.

Part IV

During the next twelve years I was haunted by two dreams, one told of the destruction of the village, the other showed me the pale face in the lake. I could not escape either dream. One was a horror that must be averted at any cost. The other I did not know; the lake was calling me, calling me to free me from the village. But I did not know what it was calling me.

I saw our village burn many times in those years. I saw it so often that I no longer knew what it meant. It was only a vision, cluttered with meaning I could not make out.

In those years I did little magic. I kept a conversation with Dunwyn even though we were not allowed to be together.

I spent much time talking in those years, talking with Dunwyn through the animals around the village.

It was shortly after my twenty-first birthday that I had the dream for the last time. A dragon swept out of the swirling images of death—a terrible serpentine beast with spear-blade scales, dagger-teeth and a spiked mace at its tail. It landed in a shower of sparks and shattered into a thousand pieces. Some of the sparks caught in the thatched roofs of the village and in that fearsome flickering light I saw the lifeless shards rise from the ground, raiders springing up from the shattered dragon.

They ran through the village burning and slaying. I saw little before my vision clouded, but I had seen enough.

I thought I would awake, but I found myself facing two moons, staring at me from starless sky, two bright orbs, lifeless eyes fixed upon me.

In two moons time. It will happen in two moons. If I tried to warn the villagers they would only mock me, they did not trust me, why should they believe me when it mattered most?

I had no reason to know what I did. So I must make a reason.

“I am going for a journey into the wild.” I told my mother the next morning. “I will bring what herbs I find.”

She looked at me oddly, “Do what you must.”

I had made my choice, I would do all that I could to make the villagers believe me. I would leave for a time, and I would return before the time was up. I would report that I had seen the raiders and that they were coming here. I would probably be blamed for bringing them to the village, but they would do what they could to prepare.

On reflection this was not the best choice, it would require perfect timing, I did not think it out fully at the time, but I knew I had to act to save the village. Looking back on it I see that while it was not the best choice, but it was a right choice.

I left the village, equipped for a long journey into the wild. I sent a sparrow to Dunwyn before I left asking her to do what she could while I was gone.

I wandered many days, staying close to the village. I relied on the birds to bring me news of any group of soldiers coming towards us. I do not know how it happened, the raiders must have passed by in the dark of night, for the birds brought me no warning.

They were past me before I received word of their coming. The first sign I saw was a dark smudge over the village. At first I did not know it for what it was. The village was on fire!

I ran fast, I arrived before it was over, but not long. The last of the village men were fighting but there was little hope left. There were too many raiders.

I could have fled at that point, and I almost did. What could I do to help them? What could I do against a hundred men? But I did not want to let them die alone.

I could not leave the villagers who hated me, I could not leave my mother, who loved even though she rarely showed it, but most of all I could not leave Dunwyn, my only friend in the world.

By the time I entered the village there was not much to aid. The raiders had no more resistance and were running through the village taking what they wanted and destroying everything else. They took no notice of my slender robed figure as I made my way through the wreckage.

Dunwyn was in the central square with the other prisoners, cradling her father’s head in her lap. Tears were streaming down her face, but she seemed unhurt. She looked up as I approached, shrinking from me in fear. She did not recognize me for a moment. But when she did she leaned forward. “There is nothing left,” she whispered. “Nothing.”

“I failed.” I was miserable at myself.

Dunwyn’s father opened his eyes. They were misted over, but he saw me.

“You.” He hissed. “You have brought this upon us.”

Dunwyn looked down at him. “No father, he was trying to stop them, he was trying to warn you.” She brushed his hair back from his eyes. “You would not listen to talk of dreams and foretelling but you might have believed his true sight.”

He looked back at me. “You still believe his lies?”

“No, father, I believe his truth.”

Fain sat up, the blood matting his hair made him look older, frailer.

I felt pity for him as I spoke. “I might be able to create a distraction that will give you time to leave here. I do not know how much time, but I will do what I can.”

Dunwyn nodded as I stepped away. “You will know when to act.” I almost choked on the next words. “Whatever happens, don’t come back.”

I moved to the center of the square, in front of the prisoners. I do not know if it was my magic that had obscured their vision, or if it was just the fact that they did not expect to see me, but they saw me now.

They came running towards me, inhuman it seemed in their speed. My anger at them, at what they had done to the village swept over me, burning through me like white fire. They stopped. One of them asked me a question, but I could not understand his words.

When I did not answer he reached for his sword. My hand leapt out, knocking the blade from his grasp before it was fully drawn. Four of them grabbed me, trying to pull me to the ground by sheer weight. I lashed out with my hands and feet.

I do not remember it clearly, everything was moving. I think I may have killed one of the men barehanded before I made my choice.

I had power, and I would use it.

With that thought the world exploded in white flame, bursting outwards and throwing the raiders away from me, killing them instantly. The cleansing fire swept through the village, burning all in its path and clearing the village.

When it was over I stood shakily. There was little to be seen but bodies, scorched and burnt. I looked around to see if the villagers were still there, they were gone, fled towards the lake. They had escaped. With that thought I collapsed from exhaustion, the magic that had flowed through me was too much. I was so tired.

I awoke to the gentle lapping of the water as it pulled at me. I was floating across the waters of the lake. How I had gotten there I do not know, but I was safe. It was not long after I awoke that I ran up against dry ground. I lay there for a while before I rose. I was on the shore of an island. I could not see anything more then ten feet out into the water, everything vanished into the mists. I turned, A crystal city rose from the island, white towers and graceful walls.

The lady I had seen in the lake stood there. She looked at me and smiled. “Welcome home, lost one.”

So I came to my true home; the home of my father. Here I face another choice, different from any other. Should I stay here with the last of my kind, immortal and powerful on our little isle?

Do I stay here and learn how to control the magic that is my heritage?

Or do go back to the mainland and live my life out as a mortal?

Now that I have written this down I can see what I should do. I must learn to control my magic. But I will not close the door that will allow me to return to a normal life.

THE END