Atissa
The island felt quiet. With the quickly receding daylight, the birds were falling silent. Only the flowing water provided ever-present background noise.
Atissa’s instinct drew her attention to the northern shore of the river. A moment later a doe and her fawn stepped out of the greenery to water.
The predator within her retreated in disappointment. Even if they hadn’t been out of her reach, Atissa wouldn’t have gone after a mother and her children. Uncle Tatros had taught her better.
She rose and stretched. With the sun going down, she felt safe enough to give up on her sentry position on the upriver end of the island. If the Assanaten were still hunting them, it was unlikely that they would continue their pursuit during the night. The river was too dangerous in the dark.
She frowned.
The apparent safety filled her with unease. The fact that she couldn’t sense any danger didn’t mean that they were safe. In the woods, they would warn her early enough and give her time to react. To run, to climb a tree, or to ready her bow.
On the island, they might not have enough time to react. The river would carry them close too quickly.
The memory of Dennia’s sons flashed into her mind again. It still brought tears to her eyes.
She hadn’t known the boys and only met Dennia once or twice during feast days. They had never talked before. Yet, the short time she had spent at their settlement had been enough. She had gotten a sense of them as a family. As people.
After taking a last look up the river, Atissa turned to make her way back to their night camp. Iristos had told them about the island, but it had been Mark’s idea to land at the downstream end. Without a fire, the Assanaten wouldn’t be able to spot them until they were already passing the island. They would have to row back against the current to reach them, giving Atissa and her companions time to react.
The island wasn’t long, but Atissa didn’t hurry. She wanted to be sure of her emotions before rejoining the others. The lonely guard had been a welcome opportunity to be alone for a while. The last thing she needed was for her the others to see her reddened eyes.
The last light was disappearing behind the mountains. Atissa did not mind. She walked surefooted even at night.
“Ah, damn it!” Mark’s muffled curse had come from the camp ahead.
He sat on the trunk of a fallen tree rubbing his foot. Had he stepped into something in the darkness?
Atissa approached quietly. It was bad manners but it was rare to catch Mark in an unguarded moment.
There was a strangeness to him. She couldn’t explain it but somehow, he looked awkward and out of place in the simple logger’s garb. As if his body was rejecting walking in sandals.
“You’re back. And? Will we all be hacked to pieces tonight?” The question had come from the stranger, sitting on the ground next to Mark, leaning against the trunk.
Mark looked up. “Hey,” he said, his foot apparently forgotten. “Did you see anything?”
Atissa just shook her head and walked over to the spot where she had left her bag, never once taking her eyes off. The young man lay there wrapped in a blanket with his eyes closed. How did he notice me approaching, she thought?
“How are you doing?” Mark asked.
Atissa wasn’t sure how to answer the question. “I am fine.”
She could tell Mark wasn’t convinced, but she was glad he chose not to press her further and just nodded. Again, he reminded her of her uncle. He just accepted her answer as she gave it. And she’d had another realization about Mark. She’d never heard him grunt. He was very different from the men of the valley.
“Are you doing better?” she asked the stranger.
He didn’t respond.
“He drops in and out of consciousness,” Mark said. “But he managed to eat a couple of bites. May I ask you about something else?”
Atissa looked up in surprise. “Sure.”
“Yesterday, in the woods, you…knew about the warriors from quite a distance away.” Atissa kept quiet, even while she could feel herself growing excited at Mark’s query.
“At your hut and today at the settlement, you seemed to have an instinct about the danger. You felt it?”
She gave a small nod.
Mark observed her for a couple of heartbeats.
“What is it that you can do?” he finally asked. “Are you using some kind of magic?”
“It’s my gift,” she said carefully. “I’ve had it since I was a child. I…uncle Tatros once said I have the instincts of a wolf. It helps during the hunt.”
“Why a wolf, specifically?” Mark asked. He sat there in a straight posture, studying her. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking at all.
“A wolf hunts other animals to life,” she said, her hand reaching subconsciously for the bow lying next to her. “But when he senses a bear, he stays away because a bear is bigger and stronger. Uncle called me his little wolf girl when I was small.”
“You can sense danger? You know when you are the hunter and when you are prey?”
“Yes,” she said, nodding. She swallowed. “When you hunt a deer, they might hear or smell you. But even if you’re careful and approach against the wind, they sometimes sense a change in their surroundings.”
“Maybe other animals recognize you as a predator?” Mark asked.
“Yes!” Atissa nodded enthusiastically. “When they sense a predator in the area, animals will retreat. It changes the…” She stopped, unable to find the right words.
“Atmosphere?”
She nodded.
It sounds right, she thought. Mark was good with words. Her explanation felt inadequate compared with what she truly sensed.
“So, your gift is superhuman senses,” Mark said “Can you hear people talking quietly over long distances? Or see further than your uncle, for example?”
Atissa frowned. “I can see better than uncle Tatros. But he says that’s because he is getting older. I’m not sure about the hearing. My gift…sometimes it feels like I can hear things. A rustling in the grass. And I know it’s a fawn. At other times, I just sense danger from a specific direction. It is hard to describe.”
Seemingly, lost in thought, Mark’s eyes were unfocused. The index and middle finger of his right hand slowly traced the line of his chin, going through the growing stubble.
“It seems it’s not your senses that are super-human but your brain,” he said after a while. “Your ability to process…”
Atissa didn’t understand but she had gotten used to Mark saying things that were incomprehensible to her. Hopefully, he would explain it to her later.
Mark’s focus returned to her. “I’m not an expert in this but as far as I understand, our brains cannot process all the information that is coming in through our senses all the time.” He paused. “You don’t understand what I’m saying, do you?”
Atissa shook her head.
“Ok, let me try it a different way. You can tell me if that makes sense to you,” he said, standing up and stretching his back. “At any moment, your skin feels everything it touches. Your clothing, the ground, the bow in your hand, and”, he waved his hand, “every movement of air. All that is too much for your conscious mind. When you’re focusing on shooting a deer, you don’t want to think about how your underwear feels at that moment. So, your brain gets rid of that feeling. And of most other things. It only gives you a small selection of all the things your senses are registering. Not too much for you to handle.”
Atissa listened intently. She had never thought much about it, but Mark’s explanation, as far as she could follow it, made sense to her. The idea that her mind was making all these decisions without her knowing about it was very strange. Was her mind not her?
“Your brain…your mind doesn’t just give you the raw sensory feeling. If it can, it will give you an interpretation.”
Atissa frowned. “An interpretation?”
Mark held up his left wrist and grabbed it with his right hand. “If I were to grab your wrist from behind like that, what thought would come to your mind?”
Atissa hesitated. “That you grabbed my wrist?” she asked, unsure.
“Exactly. You think, 'I’m being grabbed' and not, something is pressing on my wrist. Your mind gives the interpretation, not just the feeling. Do you understand?”
“I understand,” Atissa said. She was fascinated.
“Atissa, your brain can probably make sense of a lot more than the average person’s. Sometimes you know why you know”, he held up his wrist, ”and sometimes you don’t. Your mind just gives you the interpretation.” Mark shrugged his shoulders.
“Or maybe I have this completely wrong,” he said. “I’m an engineer, not a neurologist after all. Can you do any other things?”
“What do you mean?”
Mark shrugged. “Today I saw a man spit fire. Something like that, maybe?”
Atissa was at a loss. I’m not a magi, she thought.
“She’s not a magi or a god,” the young stranger said, opening his eyes. “She's a gifted. And a quite talented one at that.”
Atissa could see a shift in Mark’s posture. His face became guarded.
How long had the stranger been listening to their conversation?
“Oh, be at ease, will you,” the man said, smiling. He pushed himself into a more upright position, leaning against the trunk. Even this small movement seemed to be a strain for him.
“Girl, could you give me something to drink?” he asked.
Atissa wanted to jump up but hesitated. She looked up to Mark.
Noticing her unspoken question, he gave a short nod.
“Can you tell me what you know about magi and gifted?” Mark asked. He picked up his staff and took a seat on his blanket, opposite the stranger.
“You don’t have enough of your life left for me to tell you all I know,” the young man said amused.
It sounded very arrogant to Atissa.
She brought the water skin. The stranger took a sip and made a face. “This tastes leathery. Can’t you fetch me some fresh water? There is a river right over there.”
Atissa looked at Mark again.
He ignored her. “Maybe later. Do you mind telling us who you are?”
“Yes.”
There was a moment of silence while the two men stared at each other. The stranger smiled slightly, his deep blue eyes sparkling in amusement. Mark wore his polite, neutral expression that Atissa had seen several times now. But she could see a hardening around his mouth and eyes.
“I’m Atissa, and this is master Mark,” she said. “We’re on our way to Riadnos.”
The strangers frowned looking from Mark to her and back. His eyes fell on the staff and went wide. His mouth turned into a wide grin, showing perfect white teeth. “I see, a magi! I apologize for my rudeness. Please, call me… Hermistos.”
Atissa smiled. It seemed Mark’s status demanded respect even from such strange folk. “Can you tell us what happened to you? Dennia’s sons found you passed out in the woods. You look like you lost a lot of blood, but you have no wounds.”
Hermistos smile turned rueful. He held his hand before his eyes and examined it. “Yes, I lost quite a lot,” he said, dropping his hand. “It will be a while before the women will gaze after me again. Not that I currently have the strength, to satisfy the longing I cause them anyway.” He winked at Atissa.
Atissa frowned. She had never met anybody who talked like this.
“What?” Hermistos asked, tilting his head.
Was he somehow disappointed by her reaction? Atissa wasn’t sure.
“I… I just thought you’re the second strange person I met in two days,” she said, nodding apologetically to Mark. “And the attack by the Assanaten and their magi. So much is happening…”
“Assanaten magi?” Hermistos asked, interrupting her.
“Yes, they came with the warriors that conquered Logger’s Home. One of them burned the houses of the people that took care of you.” She had to pause for a couple of heartbeats before she could say the next sentence. “They killed Dennia’s sons.”
Atissa paused. She had to fight the feelings that the memory of the two boys being swallowed by flames brought. They had been even younger than her. When she looked up the young man’s smile had disappeared.
“I woke up from time to time. There was a boy that fed me?”
“Dennia had one of them watch over you all the time,” Atissa said. “She asked us to take you with us. They couldn’t carry you through the woods.”
Hermistos closed his eyes. “She upheld her obligation as a host to the end. A very honorable woman.”
Atissa nodded. Glancing at Mark, she noticed a questioning look.
“If you accept a guest into your home, you’re responsible for him,” Hermistos said, looking at Mark. “To feed him. And to protect him. In turn, the guest mustn’t steal from you and answer your question. The rights and obligation of guest and host.”
“I understand,” Mark said, thanking Hermistos with a nod.
It was a strange moment. And Atissa seemed to be the only one noticing it.
Everyone knew about guest rights, even in a remote place like the Half-Moon Valley. Except for Mark, it seemed. It was more evidence he must be from somewhere very far away. The way he looked, his clothing, and his mannerisms were like nobody even Tatros had ever met. And her uncle had traveled and seen many things. He had told her so.
But Hermistos guessed his question right away, she thought. He didn’t even seem surprised that Mark didn’t know something any child could explain with ease.
“Hey, he is awake,” Iristos asked, walking into their campsite. “Has he eaten, yet? Listen, be careful when you go over there.” He pointed over his shoulder to the bushes he had come from. “I don’t even remember eating that much.” He scratched his head.
Atissa
The island felt quiet. With the quickly receding daylight, the birds were falling silent. Only the flowing water provided ever-present background noise.
Atissa’s instinct drew her attention to the northern shore of the river. A moment later a doe and her fawn stepped out of the greenery to water.
The predator within her retreated in disappointment. Even if they hadn’t been out of her reach, Atissa wouldn’t have gone after a mother and her children. Uncle Tatros had taught her better.
She rose and stretched. With the sun going down, she felt safe enough to give up on her sentry position on the upriver end of the island. If the Assanaten were still hunting them, it was unlikely that they would continue their pursuit during the night. The river was too dangerous in the dark.
She frowned.
The apparent safety filled her with unease. The fact that she couldn’t sense any danger didn’t mean that they were safe. In the woods, they would warn her early enough and give her time to react. To run, to climb a tree, or to ready her bow.
On the island, they might not have enough time to react. The river would carry them close too quickly.
The memory of Dennia’s sons flashed into her mind again. It still brought tears to her eyes.
She hadn’t known the boys and only met Dennia once or twice during feast days. They had never talked before. Yet, the short time she had spent at their settlement had been enough. She had gotten a sense of them as a family. As people.
After taking a last look up the river, Atissa turned to make her way back to their night camp. Iristos had told them about the island, but it had been Mark’s idea to land at the downstream end. Without a fire, the Assanaten wouldn’t be able to spot them until they were already passing the island. They would have to row back against the current to reach them, giving Atissa and her companions time to react.
The island wasn’t long, but Atissa didn’t hurry. She wanted to be sure of her emotions before rejoining the others. The lonely guard had been a welcome opportunity to be alone for a while. The last thing she needed was for her the others to see her reddened eyes.
The last light was disappearing behind the mountains. Atissa did not mind. She walked surefooted even at night.
“Ah, damn it!” Mark’s muffled curse had come from the camp ahead.
He sat on the trunk of a fallen tree rubbing his foot. Had he stepped into something in the darkness?
Atissa approached quietly. It was bad manners but it was rare to catch Mark in an unguarded moment.
There was a strangeness to him. She couldn’t explain it but somehow, he looked awkward and out of place in the simple logger’s garb. As if his body was rejecting walking in sandals.
“You’re back. And? Will we all be hacked to pieces tonight?” The question had come from the stranger, sitting on the ground next to Mark, leaning against the trunk.
Mark looked up. “Hey,” he said, his foot apparently forgotten. “Did you see anything?”
Atissa just shook her head and walked over to the spot where she had left her bag, never once taking her eyes off. The young man lay there wrapped in a blanket with his eyes closed. How did he notice me approaching, she thought?
“How are you doing?” Mark asked.
Atissa wasn’t sure how to answer the question. “I am fine.”
She could tell Mark wasn’t convinced, but she was glad he chose not to press her further and just nodded. Again, he reminded her of her uncle. He just accepted her answer as she gave it. And she’d had another realization about Mark. She’d never heard him grunt. He was very different from the men of the valley.
“Are you doing better?” she asked the stranger.
He didn’t respond.
“He drops in and out of consciousness,” Mark said. “But he managed to eat a couple of bites. May I ask you about something else?”
Atissa looked up in surprise. “Sure.”
“Yesterday, in the woods, you…knew about the warriors from quite a distance away.” Atissa kept quiet, even while she could feel herself growing excited at Mark’s query.
“At your hut and today at the settlement, you seemed to have an instinct about the danger. You felt it?”
She gave a small nod.
Mark observed her for a couple of heartbeats.
“What is it that you can do?” he finally asked. “Are you using some kind of magic?”
“It’s my gift,” she said carefully. “I’ve had it since I was a child. I…uncle Tatros once said I have the instincts of a wolf. It helps during the hunt.”
“Why a wolf, specifically?” Mark asked. He sat there in a straight posture, studying her. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking at all.
“A wolf hunts other animals to life,” she said, her hand reaching subconsciously for the bow lying next to her. “But when he senses a bear, he stays away because a bear is bigger and stronger. Uncle called me his little wolf girl when I was small.”
“You can sense danger? You know when you are the hunter and when you are prey?”
“Yes,” she said, nodding. She swallowed. “When you hunt a deer, they might hear or smell you. But even if you’re careful and approach against the wind, they sometimes sense a change in their surroundings.”
“Maybe other animals recognize you as a predator?” Mark asked.
“Yes!” Atissa nodded enthusiastically. “When they sense a predator in the area, animals will retreat. It changes the…” She stopped, unable to find the right words.
“Atmosphere?”
She nodded.
It sounds right, she thought. Mark was good with words. Her explanation felt inadequate compared with what she truly sensed.
“So, your gift is superhuman senses,” Mark said “Can you hear people talking quietly over long distances? Or see further than your uncle, for example?”
Atissa frowned. “I can see better than uncle Tatros. But he says that’s because he is getting older. I’m not sure about the hearing. My gift…sometimes it feels like I can hear things. A rustling in the grass. And I know it’s a fawn. At other times, I just sense danger from a specific direction. It is hard to describe.”
Seemingly, lost in thought, Mark’s eyes were unfocused. The index and middle finger of his right hand slowly traced the line of his chin, going through the growing stubble.
“It seems it’s not your senses that are super-human but your brain,” he said after a while. “Your ability to process…”
Atissa didn’t understand but she had gotten used to Mark saying things that were incomprehensible to her. Hopefully, he would explain it to her later.
Mark’s focus returned to her. “I’m not an expert in this but as far as I understand, our brains cannot process all the information that is coming in through our senses all the time.” He paused. “You don’t understand what I’m saying, do you?”
Atissa shook her head.
“Ok, let me try it a different way. You can tell me if that makes sense to you,” he said, standing up and stretching his back. “At any moment, your skin feels everything it touches. Your clothing, the ground, the bow in your hand, and”, he waved his hand, “every movement of air. All that is too much for your conscious mind. When you’re focusing on shooting a deer, you don’t want to think about how your underwear feels at that moment. So, your brain gets rid of that feeling. And of most other things. It only gives you a small selection of all the things your senses are registering. Not too much for you to handle.”
Atissa listened intently. She had never thought much about it, but Mark’s explanation, as far as she could follow it, made sense to her. The idea that her mind was making all these decisions without her knowing about it was very strange. Was her mind not her?
“Your brain…your mind doesn’t just give you the raw sensory feeling. If it can, it will give you an interpretation.”
Atissa frowned. “An interpretation?”
Mark held up his left wrist and grabbed it with his right hand. “If I were to grab your wrist from behind like that, what thought would come to your mind?”
Atissa hesitated. “That you grabbed my wrist?” she asked, unsure.
“Exactly. You think, 'I’m being grabbed' and not, something is pressing on my wrist. Your mind gives the interpretation, not just the feeling. Do you understand?”
“I understand,” Atissa said. She was fascinated.
“Atissa, your brain can probably make sense of a lot more than the average person’s. Sometimes you know why you know”, he held up his wrist, ”and sometimes you don’t. Your mind just gives you the interpretation.” Mark shrugged his shoulders.
“Or maybe I have this completely wrong,” he said. “I’m an engineer, not a neurologist after all. Can you do any other things?”
“What do you mean?”
Mark shrugged. “Today I saw a man spit fire. Something like that, maybe?”
Atissa was at a loss. I’m not a magi, she thought.
“She’s not a magi or a god,” the young stranger said, opening his eyes. “She's a gifted. And a quite talented one at that.”
Atissa could see a shift in Mark’s posture. His face became guarded.
How long had the stranger been listening to their conversation?
“Oh, be at ease, will you,” the man said, smiling. He pushed himself into a more upright position, leaning against the trunk. Even this small movement seemed to be a strain for him.
“Girl, could you give me something to drink?” he asked.
Atissa wanted to jump up but hesitated. She looked up to Mark.
Noticing her unspoken question, he gave a short nod.
“Can you tell me what you know about magi and gifted?” Mark asked. He picked up his staff and took a seat on his blanket, opposite the stranger.
“You don’t have enough of your life left for me to tell you all I know,” the young man said amused.
It sounded very arrogant to Atissa.
She brought the water skin. The stranger took a sip and made a face. “This tastes leathery. Can’t you fetch me some fresh water? There is a river right over there.”
Atissa looked at Mark again.
He ignored her. “Maybe later. Do you mind telling us who you are?”
“Yes.”
There was a moment of silence while the two men stared at each other. The stranger smiled slightly, his deep blue eyes sparkling in amusement. Mark wore his polite, neutral expression that Atissa had seen several times now. But she could see a hardening around his mouth and eyes.
“I’m Atissa, and this is master Mark,” she said. “We’re on our way to Riadnos.”
The strangers frowned looking from Mark to her and back. His eyes fell on the staff and went wide. His mouth turned into a wide grin, showing perfect white teeth. “I see, a magi! I apologize for my rudeness. Please, call me… Hermistos.”
Atissa smiled. It seemed Mark’s status demanded respect even from such strange folk. “Can you tell us what happened to you? Dennia’s sons found you passed out in the woods. You look like you lost a lot of blood, but you have no wounds.”
Hermistos smile turned rueful. He held his hand before his eyes and examined it. “Yes, I lost quite a lot,” he said, dropping his hand. “It will be a while before the women will gaze after me again. Not that I currently have the strength, to satisfy the longing I cause them anyway.” He winked at Atissa.
Atissa frowned. She had never met anybody who talked like this.
“What?” Hermistos asked, tilting his head.
Was he somehow disappointed by her reaction? Atissa wasn’t sure.
“I… I just thought you’re the second strange person I met in two days,” she said, nodding apologetically to Mark. “And the attack by the Assanaten and their magi. So much is happening…”
“Assanaten magi?” Hermistos asked, interrupting her.
“Yes, they came with the warriors that conquered Logger’s Home. One of them burned the houses of the people that took care of you.” She had to pause for a couple of heartbeats before she could say the next sentence. “They killed Dennia’s sons.”
Atissa paused. She had to fight the feelings that the memory of the two boys being swallowed by flames brought. They had been even younger than her. When she looked up the young man’s smile had disappeared.
“I woke up from time to time. There was a boy that fed me?”
“Dennia had one of them watch over you all the time,” Atissa said. “She asked us to take you with us. They couldn’t carry you through the woods.”
Hermistos closed his eyes. “She upheld her obligation as a host to the end. A very honorable woman.”
Atissa nodded. Glancing at Mark, she noticed a questioning look.
“If you accept a guest into your home, you’re responsible for him,” Hermistos said, looking at Mark. “To feed him. And to protect him. In turn, the guest mustn’t steal from you and answer your question. The rights and obligation of guest and host.”
“I understand,” Mark said, thanking Hermistos with a nod.
It was a strange moment. And Atissa seemed to be the only one noticing it.
Everyone knew about guest rights, even in a remote place like the Half-Moon Valley. Except for Mark, it seemed. It was more evidence he must be from somewhere very far away. The way he looked, his clothing, and his mannerisms were like nobody even Tatros had ever met. And her uncle had traveled and seen many things. He had told her so.
But Hermistos guessed his question right away, she thought. He didn’t even seem surprised that Mark didn’t know something any child could explain with ease.
“Hey, he is awake,” Iristos asked, walking into their campsite. “Has he eaten, yet? Listen, be careful when you go over there.” He pointed over his shoulder to the bushes he had come from. “I don’t even remember eating that much.” He scratched his head.
