Beginnings

There are a certain few people who, before souls were had, were always good and pious and kind. They loved the gods and were wonderfully protective and helpful to everyone they met. When souls came about the gods rewarded these people who were good without knowing that they would live on.

Una crosses both the good and the bad of the world. The Talen was one of perhaps three families during that time who would not have tried to kill Una again. And somehow I doubt that that was left up to chance.

Una's story telling style actually requires being there in the moment, so if it seems odd or like a sentence ends in the middle, count it as a pause, and read on. I nearly edited one thing that was Una simply pausing.

After writing Una's first person, Aftermath can be difficult, I can't delve into as much as I can with Una. Of course, Una is also a huge well of information.

Read, Review and Enjoy.




Pain. I thought I was dead, had died and gone and that was the end of me. At that time there was not truly an underworld. There was Mother. There was Harella and Shey. The throne of the gods did not exist then, nor the game. The first soul would have come into existence sometime before my birth and. And the first. Well. Some have called them sparks (meaning that they would burn bright and glorious with power for one lifetime then parish like souls of old) some Aniege (a term given in later years to a line and then given out by Illuva only on occasion to those who served the gods through the use of power and manipulation of the people) some bastards and whores and crazies.

Well. The first of them came after my birth and my death and my rebirth.

But in due time.
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Thinking you are dead and that your pain is over can be a relief. No more pain, no more torture, no more agony.

To wake, sun gently warming your body, air caressing your naked form, and the screaming pain as your bones reset themselves is quite another thing. And yes, that is how I awoke. The pain of a break is nothing like the pain of healing. Break is quick and painful but easily overridden. Healing pain cannot be overridden. The body needs pain to inform itself that change is happening.

And my first conscious feeling was my throat popping back into place. There is cartilage in the throat, I am told, that can break when too much force is put onto the windpipe. That is what broke. And when it snaps back into place, my goodness my entire world exploded in a burst of light across my eyes. The throat healed perfectly but for years afterwards I swore I could feel where the break had happened.

Once the throat had healed my body did what was only natural, it drew in a breath. A short breath that caused pain across my chest. A good deal of sensation was running through me, but I still felt the stick that poked my shoulder. I heard an older male voice growl at the one holding the stick. Something about not poking the dead. As the small breath brought air, crisp and clean into my lungs, my lungs informed my body that they needed more air. The next breath was deep enough to be noticed, deep enough to pop ribs back into place, to move me enough that the stick that poked me clattered to the ground. Someone shrieked and footsteps thumped away, rumbling the ground under my cheek.

I choked on the air, chest shifting as I coughed myself back to life, as things that had been knocked out of place shifted back. Enough to heal me entirely. No cuts, no bruise was left when my body finally gave its control back over to me. I collapsed against the cold sandy shore and shuddered. Sunlight over head, the sound of a forest around me and a shadow that fell across my bare form.

“Noshern!” the owner of the voice turned away from me.

I, afraid and confused, not knowing where I was or what was happening, I stood and stepped backwards. My eyes did not want to focus at that point. I saw outlines and forms with colours smeared through them. I knew the owner of the shadow was male. I knew that the one who had poked me with the stick was younger. And I knew more people were coming towards me. I backed up further.

“Whoa, whoa, stop boyo, boyo, don’t, Noshern, stay back! Get the others back!” the shadow man snapped over his shoulder and the people retreated, the younger form halfway between the people and the man. “alright, boyo, no one is going to hurt you. Come on. Come away from the river’s edge. You don’t want to be stepping into the rapids again, now do you?”

I glanced over my shoulder, at the white, frothing water behind me, at the jagged rocks and branches sticking out of the waters. I stepped away from the river and towards the shadow man.

“That’s it, you don’t need more hurt do you, boyo, come on, come here. Easy now,” the man murmured quietly, like he was speaking to a wild animal.

I didn’t want to go near the man, I was afraid he would hurt me like the others had. My eyes came into focus and managed to see the details of the shadow man. Graying hair and brown eyes, the man was as tall as I but wider at shoulder and hip. The type of man who could (and did) carry a good deal of muscle on him. He was dressed in merchant clothing of dyed linens. Down one cheek was a twisting scar, contorting what once must have been handsome features.

“Come here boyo,” the man nickered at me and shrugged out of his long traveling coat. Brown and well used, he held it out to me, “come on, how about something to cover yourself with? Must be cold. Coming out of the river like that.”

I edged closer to him and reached for the coat while trying to keep my body away from him. I snatched the edge of the coat and yanked the leather thing from him, pulling him a step closer as I did. I slid the coat over my shoulders and winced as something between my shoulder blades tore open. Pain made me whimper.

“Noshern. Bring your woman.” the man said over his shoulder before speaking to me, “Noshern’s is a healer, so is his woman. My name is Noran, Noran Talen. This is my family behind me, we travel across the lands trading in knowledge and the such. Can. You understand me boyo?”

“Yes,” I cringed away from him as I spoke.

Blood trickled down my back and my wound burned. Making me acutely aware that I was wearing another man’s jacket and bleeding all over it. Something that a man was not likely going to like.

Noshern arrived quickly, pulling along a young woman who looked paler than I was. She was with child, I knew right away. The way she held herself, how pale she was, the way Noshern stood protectively over her. Part of Mother’s language is the movement of a body, the way you position yourself as you sing to her tells her just as much as the words from your mouth and the images from your mind. Thus learning Mother’s language was not just learning a new verbal language, but learning the body language of those around you.

Noshern pushed the woman towards me, muttering something to her that I did not hear. She looked to me and then away, saying something back to Noshern. The man, in turn, pushed her closer to me and stepped back. Then I didn’t understand it, but now I know and understand that Noran had sent the female to me because females can disarm a person hurt by abuse. And I was disarmed. I allowed her to touch me and eventually allowed Noshern to bring cold water from the river. She dabbed at my wounds while the other merchants set up a camp in the small space beside the river. The merchants set up a tent and Noshern’s woman, never speaking to me the whole while, pulled me inside and she and Noshern took the coat off of me.

Noshern was behind me when he took off the coat, his woman in front of me. Noran stood just inside the entrance way. He had helped me once and I found myself interested more and more with what the man was doing instead of what Noshern and his woman were doing to my body.

When the coat came off Noshern handed it to Noran, who draped it over his arm as if holding another man’s possession. Noshern’s attention shifted towards my back and the man made a sound behind me. His woman jumped at the sound and went around to my back.

“Oh.” the first word I had heard her say. Slender hands touched the space between my shoulders and I felt. Something. My skin pulled against it.

“What-” panic welled up inside of me as I realised there was something there, something stuck into me.

“Noran, we will need someone to hold him.”

“What is it?” Noran asked, calling out the flap of the tent. A moment and someone else was there, taking the coat and leaving again with orders from Noran. The man turned to Noshern and asked again, “what is it?”

“A branch, a large one, driven under the left shoulder blade and up, it pierces through the skin up here, this wound is new though. Putting on the coat, perhaps, moved the branch,” Noshern responded calmly, fingers walking around the wound.

“Boyo,” Noran stepped in front of me and I felt fear because I knew what he was going to say, even though I didn’t want him to. My logical brain had shut down. Noran was just a man who was going to cause me pain, “it has to be removed. It’s going to hurt.”

Several men came into the tent and I cringed away from them. Noran had a hand on my arm, my left one, as I moved away from the men, I stepped into Noran’s hand, sending a pulse of pain through my arm.

“Did you bring whiskey?” Noshern asked the men.

One of them nodded and held up a clay bottle. The bottle was handed to Noran. Then the two left and brought in a sleeping tack. They unrolled the sleeping tack as I watched. I looked back at Noran. There was pity in his look, but the man said nothing of it as he uncorked the bottle and offered it to me.

“You’re going to want this.”

I could have listed three plants that would help with pain, but none of the plants I knew would have grown in that area. So I reached for the bottle with my left hand, my dominant hand, and cringed.

“Right hand, boyo,” Noran pulled up my right hand and wrapped my fingers around the neck of the bottle, “nice big drink.”

I swallowed long and hard. My throat didn’t seem to want to work and as the alcohol hit my stomach my body reminded me that I hadn’t eaten in too long. Even though the stuff burned like fire being poured down my throat, I continued to swallow until my lungs burned from lack of air. I stopped drinking and huffed out, breathing hard and grating the branch across my shoulder blade.

“Now, lay down.”

I didn’t want to. When I resisted the two men who had come in came towards me. I wanted to resist, I wanted to fight back and get away. But I froze up. They were very gentle as they lowered me onto my belly. Even being so gently, they had to touch my left arm and they did cause me pain. On my back, a blanket was draped over my lower half. Noshern took hold of my wrist, having taken over for his woman, and moved my arm this way and the other, adjusting my shoulder blade until he was satisfied.

“Hold it like this. Just like this.”

“Ka,” Noran responded, taking hold of me. The ancient sign of agreement to one of more position.

“You hold down his other shoulder, Lail, hands on his back. You hold down his feet.” Hands laid on me and Noshern’s fingers flickered over the branch. Feeling out the shape and how it had gone into me, “Relax boy.”

I tried to, I made myself relax my shoulders and muscles in the back. As I did I felt the muscle catching at the top of my shoulder blade as the branch stopped it from moving. I relaxed and allowed my shoulder to be moved as the healer wanted it moved. If only to keep the pain to a minimal.

“Relax.”

I tried again.

“Good.” Noshern’s tone was a soothing one. One the man likely used with his animals, “that’s it.”

No warning was given. Perhaps Noshern didn’t want me tensing. Perhaps that was how he did all his work. The branch was yanked out, tearing muscle and grating at the underside of my shoulder blade. My flesh tried to hold onto the branch, catching at the last moment. The pain through my shoulder made me scream but I still did not fight back. To fight back would only cause me more pain so I screamed my pain and my agony, my frustration and my anger.

“What.” Noshern muttered.

“Hmm?” Noran responded as Noshern’s quick fingers pulled the last bit of wood from my flesh.

“Nothing. It was just.” a hand placed flat against my flesh in the middle of my back, “he’s warm. Too warm. This boy needs more help than we can offer him. We might be able to fix the body, but She would have to fix the rest of this.”

“Fever is normal for wounds.”

“Yes, I have said that before,” Noshern murmured.

Hands moved away from me as the woman, Lail, dropped a clothe against my shoulder unceremoniously. Held it there to stop the bleeding. Noran released my wrist and gave orders to the others to bring clothing for me, as well as food and water.

“She is two months away,” Noran responded quietly, settling by my left arm, within my sight, “but we will be meeting with Delune in three days, they have horses and head that way every fall.”

“Mm,” hands moved into my hair, inspecting my scalp, “Noran. He’s.”

Noshern batted Noran out of the way and went down on both knees, inspecting my face, pulling my eyebrows upward so he could look into my eyes. The healer frowned.

“Daemon.”

“What?” Noran asked as others entered the tent. He took the items they had and dismissed them before he looked to Noshern once more, “what do you mean he’s daemon?”

“Your boy is not a person, he is a daemon.”


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