17. Anya
It had been two nights since Anya first had the eerie dream, and the following two nights she had dreamt of the same incident; Nic was always there. He varied what he said each night, but he always gave her the same warning. ‘Your decision will only bring you pain…’ If he meant her decision to become a guardian, the more she thought about it, the more she felt it was out of her control. She was being dragged by her hair to the capital where she was sure she would make an utter fool of herself.
What nonsense am I thinking? I told Irien I would come with her to Arazia and regretting it now would be absurd. No, in fact I refuse to regret! This was my choice and I stand by it. Nic has to stop haunting my dreams and let me be so I can move on with my life. He is just a boy!
On the third night they arrived in Rhine, a small town situated next to the Rhine River. It consisted of one inn, a smithy and a few farms just outside the town perimeter. Its town square - more an oblong paddock was small, surrounded by numerous stalls and shops – a renowned market of sorts that occurred all year round. Anya was dimly aware of the ongoings around her, too tired and too sore to pay mind to the shops and residents peering curiously her way.
Irien paid for a room with two beds at the inn, cozy and clean and yet, still not up to the guardian’s standards. Irien regarded the room with a disdainful snort before settling in. Anya slept without any interruptions. Even the dream avoided her. When she awoke the sun was already shining strongly onto her bed.
Basking in its warmth, she allowed the last remnants of fatigue to leave her body. Stretching languidly, she looked at the second bed across the room – empty. Its cream covers were already pulled tightly across the mattress and the soft feather-down pillows were propped at its head.
Pushing herself up, she leisurely prepared the tiny bath tub that stood in the corner of the room behind a dark oak, wooden screen. There was already water in a large jug set to the side of the large copper tub and a small breeze entered the open window, wafting the steam around. She undressed, hopped in and let out a little whimper of satisfaction.
When she was submerged up to her chin she reached for the rough sea sponge and scented soap that lay in a small dish at the foot of the tub. Scented soap was a luxury and it was not often one saw it in a small inn, but Anya did not think about it for too long. She guessed that the market outside had a stall selling the indulgence and made a note to go find it before they left.
When Anya was done, she dressed herself in her spare clothes and washed the dirty ones in the soapy water.
A cat sitting in a patch of sun near the end of the corridor greeted her with a yowl when she left the room. Anya greeted it back but made no move to go pet it; it looked to be a wild thing. The common room was large – big enough to fit over thirty people – but was virtually empty; only a couple of old souls remained drinking their life away from their full beakers.
Anya picked out the innkeeper in the sparse crowd – a large man with no hair. His white apron tied around his rather thick waste was stained with food and beer. His beer-belly protruded below his thin white shirt at the break between his pants and shirt. She rid her face of any grimace, threw back her shoulders and approached him.
"Mornin' lil' lady," he greeted as she approached. “I trust ye slept well?”
“Like a bear in winter,” Anya smiled. The innkeeper smiled in return, blinking his one eye in what she guessed was a wink. She laughed, but saved herself quickly by pretending to cough.
“Your mother left a few hours ago if you would like to know,” he continued.
Anya coughed again. “I guessed as much. Did she say where she was going?”
"No, Lady Irien left a note for you, but uh, I seem to have lost the thing. Wait, didn't I - ah here we go." he produced a small piece of paper from his apron pocket. Anya took it from his sausage-like fingers.
"The name’s Vorn." Vorn extended a large, round hand after wiping it a few times on his apron.
"Hello, Vorn," Anya smiled, shaking his hand with difficulty. She kept her face neutral and friendly. A story Roan had once told her came to mind and she felt her stomach churn at the memory.
The tale was not clear, but she did remember that the main idea of the story was that innkeepers on their own were considered health hazards – tending to every aspect of their inn – down to the last lavatory. Vorn was friendly, but that did not make the stench of sweat and smoke go away, nor did it clean his filthy shirt and apron. "I am Anya."
"Pretty name for a pretty girl. You have a good day, ye hear."
"Thank you," Anya unfolded the piece of paper, and recognized Irien's elegant handwriting.
Thought I would allow you to sleep in. You need the rest. I shall be buying supplies so explore the town; it will be good for you. Irien.
Anya scrunched up the piece of paper, leaving it on the counter for Vorn to clean up. She felt her mood lift at the prospect of exploring the new town alone, and with Irien’s permission too – no lies, or sneaking off. She was free to leave the inn and roam the fresh streets of Rhine. It saved her from making up some lie as to why she had to leave the inn and roam the streets.
“Ye be careful, Anya!” Vorn called after her. “The streets are no place for a young girl to go walking around by herself.”
“I will be fine,” As she left the inn she was greeted by warm air. The long street was filled with people - merchants mostly. She strode through the dust packed road and was fascinated by the unique styles of the buildings. Unlike Tjorin's thatched roofs and smooth, creamy plastered walls, this town had tiled roofs with wooden walls. It strangely gave the place an organic feel that made Anya miss home. She was used to open fields and the fresh smell of trees. The woody smell of the town reminded her of her life back home, but instead of mourning over the raw wound in her heart, she allowed the smell and feel of the town to comfort her.
Most of the merchants had small shops in the wooden buildings that lined the street but others had brightly painted stalls on wheels. The striped awnings were all different. She gaped at the colourful array and shook her head as some of the merchants saw her as a possible buyer. She found the woman who sold the scented soaps a few stalls down. She smiled at Anya and swept her bony arms over the small blocks of scented pleasures. Anya brought a few to her nose, inhaling their delightful scent. Scratching in her belt pouch she found a few silver coins and paid for a single block of rosemary and lemon soap.
As she continued walking passed the merchants' stalls and shops, she noticed a small house between two larger ones. The door was painted a bright green and had the number ninety-three pinned at a strange angel pinned to its frame. The intriguing building had no windows since the facade was not large enough to fit any.
Anya's curiosity attracted her to the small structure. Its walls were made from a dark wood and light stucco and as she came closer she noticed that the planks were cracked and rough and the plaster peeling. She hopped up the two steps and pushed on the green door. It swung open, freeing a melody of smells. A herbalist.
Anya placed her foot inside the door and paused. Nothing happened. She took another step forward, big enough for her whole body to pass through the narrow doorway. A wooden plank creaked in protest at the new weight placed upon it - making her cringe on the spot.
"I'll be right with you," a woman's voice called out from the back of the room.
There were no windows Anya could identify - the only light source came from the lit candles that were placed around the room. Shelves filed the walls and jars filling those shelves. Curtains hung from walls; rich, heavy drapes that caused the room to feel smaller then it really was. A thick, soft rug lay at her feet, emulating the feel of summer grass.
Anya could smell a mixture of herbs, but was unable to identify any of them. She walked towards the shelves. The jars had labels too old and too dark to read. She slowly made her way around the room, every now and then checking if anyone was with her.
Near the back, a fire burned and a rusty cat was curled up in front of it. A chair sat by the flames occupied by an old, lazy dog with legs hanging over the sidesand a lolling tongue. Anya smiled. She crossed the room to the shelves on the other side. Besides for the warm fire, rich draperies and pleasant smells, something felt out of sorts. Her feet seemed heavier than they should and an unknown force was tugging at her to step away. A shiver ran down her spine, making her falter.
Don't be silly, there is nothing abnormal about this -
Her thoughts silenced; she was barely able to stifle a scream before her hand instinctively shot up and covered her mouth as she took a few steps. Her feet caught in the thick carpet, and besides for her valiant efforts to stay erect, she toppled over silently. Luckily the thick rug lying behind her cushioned her landing, but Anya still felt the hard jolt of wood knock her back. She closed her eyes in pain, biting her lip.
"Oh my dear! Don't move!"
Anya stiffened; she searched the room frantically with her eyes. A woman's face appeared above her. She had deep red hair that swooped down onto Anya's face. The lady pulled back her tresses quickly and tied it behind her neck. Her face was round and her features strong, punctuated by thick lips and dark, widely set blue eyes.
"It will be alright, you are just in shock, but do not move," her hands slowly massaged Anya's neck. Anya tried to ask who the lady was but she couldn't breath in properly. She choked on a bit of saliva, which sent her on a coughing spree.
"Easy does it sweetie, easy does it." The lady reached for something; a glass of water. She placed it on Anya's lips, muttering constantly under her breath.
Anya gratefully opened her mouth and drank her fill.
"Thank you," Anya finally said when she recovered her speech.
The lady smiled until there were creases by her eyes, "Now, what happened?"
Anya had momentarily forgotten what caused her fright, but now she remembered clearly what she had seen. She risked a glance at the jars. "What are those?" she asked shakily.
The lady looked over her shoulder. "Oh... Those are... Well they are..." she turned to Anya again clearly struggling to explain, "Jalee, pleased to meet you." Anya stared at the outstretched hand and hesitantly took it.
“They are Jalees?” Anya cocked her head. “What are Jalees?”
“Jalee is my name,” the woman clarified with an irritated tinge to her tone as if it were the most obvious fact. “What is yours?”
"Anya, and what are those? I have never seen such creatures." Anya pushed herself up and slowly walked towards the jars.
It looked to her like dead baby animals, however, the kind of animal was unknown to her. They were terrifyingly ugly with huge eyes wide open in a sightless stare and a few strands of hair that protruded from their bald scalp. Their mouths were wide open, exposing their many sharp, over-lapping fangs. They had misshapen bodies, which twisted and bent unfairly, some were cut in half, displaying organs too small or too under-developed to be recognized. Their hands had seven long fingers, each with sharp claws at the end – monstrosities Anya would have never thought possible. Yet, they floated harmlessly inside the jar in a yellow liquid.
Most of the jars contained similar specimens, each more terrifying than the last. All ugly. All dead. All blind. All monsters.
"They are Goblins. Babies, of course, and dead," Jalee came to stand next to her, "They fascinate me, however, my customers are not as entranced by them as I."
"I can see why: they are hideous." Anya scrunched her face in disgust and snorted softly to herself.
"Beauty differs from the point-of-view." Jalee shrugged, giving Anya a small wink.
"So would you call that beautiful?"
"I did not say that."
Anya sighed, "Why do you keep them?"
"Questions, questions, questions. Quite the curious guardian, if you ask me."
Anya froze. How did Jalee know she was a Guardian? She wore no robe or pendant, nor had she said anything. "What makes you think I am a guardian."
Jalee chuckled and beckoned Anya to follow her to the fireplace. "I can tell."
"But how can you tell?"
"I sense the Will in you, that is all."
"So you are a guardian too?"
"I did not say that."
"But only guardians can - " Anya froze, she did not want to ask the question that was on the tip of her tongue. If this lady was truly a pyra, then she needed to get away. Irien said they were not to be trusted and the jars on the shelves were a clear indication to just that. She managed not to show her newly found fear, but knew her shaking hands were giving her away. She thrust them behind her back and quickly dropped her gaze.
"Not all who sense the Will are guardian, I guess"
"No, not all." Jalee shooed the sleeping dog off the chair and took her seat. She indicated to the rug by the fire for Anya to sit on. Anya, instead, looked towards the door: she needed to get out of the small shop, but doing so now would seem impudent, so she took her place on the offered rug.
"You seem worried child, do you need to be somewhere?" Anya cocked her head. Jalee did not seem old enough to call her a child - she was probably late twenties at the most.
"No, not really." Anya realized she just missed her chance to escape.
"Then why are you so tense?"
Anya frowned. If Jalee knew she was a guardian then surely she would understand her nervousness.
Maybe I should just ask. I can always run away. Anya took a deep breath. She would work around the question, asking it straightforward was too risky at this point. "How are you able to sense the Will."
"It just happens. I guess I developed the talent naturally. It is strong in you, stronger than I have ever seen. It is almost like you are pulsing."
Anya was intrigued. Has Irien sensed my Will power the same way? Why has she not told me? Anya quickly focused on her current mission. This pyra woman was clever. She was not going to just tell Anya what she was, she wanted to test her, humiliate her. Anya would not have it.
"So, do you live here?"
"Yes, it is not much, but it suits me. I have a garden out back where I grow my herbs and more than enough company." She scratched the cat’s ears affectionately as the feline settled down on her lap.
Anya was slightly taken aback by the answer. The garden made sense, pyree loved nature, Irien had said so, but she had also stated that they were travelers.
"Do you ever travel?"
"Of course, to discover new herbs and antidotes. I cannot grow everything in my small garden. I have to travel deeper into the Aldo or further north to find some herbs." Jalee replied sweetly continuing to scratch the cat.
Anya smiled back triumphantly. She had gathered the information she needed. Put it all together and she had a genuine pyra in front of her. But Jalee did not seem like any of the things Irien had said pyra to be.
"Oh my, excuse my manners! Was there anything you were looking for?"
"No, I was just looking."
Jalee sat back in her seat, not taking her eyes off Anya. Anya looked back innocently. "The Will is definitely strong in you. It has big plans for your future it seems."
Once again Anya was taken aback, "What plans?"
"Oh I cannot tell, the Will is mysterious, no guardian nor pyra can predict what it will do." Jalee must have noticed Anya flinch at the name of the people she was told to dislike. "I see, a strong dislike for the pyree has already been formed.” she smacked her lips together and shook her head. “Pity."
Anya looked down, feeling slightly ashamed for tricking the lady. Jalee's voice was filled with disappointment and, surprisingly, frustration. "You must be wondering why I stay then,” she said in a small voice. “But to tell you the truth, I don't know why. My teacher would strangle me for talking to a pyra, but you do not seem that bad."
Jalee was smiling at Anya when she looked up, "My dear, I am not a pyra."
"You aren't!"
"No, I am neither guardian nor pyra. I am just a human. A human who has chosen to lead a normal life without belonging to any group. I usually keep my abilities to myself, it helps to stay unnoticed, and I like my life just as it is."
Anya sighed in relief. It felt good to know Jalee was not a pyra, it meant Irien had no reason to be angry at her.
"Tea?"
"Yes. please."
Jalee stood up slowly, sending the cat jumping to the floor. Hissing softly the cat turned to Anya and rubbed its small frame against her. Anya patted its head but otherwise ignored it. She was not entirely fond of cats, but when the dog stretched out for some attention of its own, she ruffled its long silky ears happily. The cat soon stood and left. Jalee returned with two steaming cups, a wonderful array of aromas wafting from them. She handed one to Anya, warning her that it was very hot before sitting again in the large armchair.
“So,” Jalee sighed. “Where are you from?”
“Tjorin Vale,” Anya replied, setting the cup in front of her.
“Ah yes, I have heard wonderful things from the town, I have never actually been there myself, but I am sure one day I will make a point to see it.”
“It holds little intrigue for those that have seen the world,” Anya replied in a half shrug.”
“Beauty differs from the point-of-view,” Jalee reiterated. “And so does magic.”
Anya had no words to reply so instead sipped at her tea. She looked at the crackling fire; how its flames danced and flickered in and out of existence. Each new flame different from its ancestor. She felt a cough building behind her ribs, pushing against her throat. She softened the pending cough by placing her hand on her chest.
“Do not worry,” Jalee said dismissively. “They will be gone in a few minutes. The herbs I put in here are quite potent, but I am sure you - “ Jalee cut off and leaned forward. “What is that around your neck, child?”
Anya looked down and saw the old ring hanging loosely over her shirt. She covered it lightly with her palm and shook her head. “It is an old ring I found near my town. Someone must have lost it years ago.”
“Why do you say that?” Jalee had not taken her eyes off the ring.
“Well firstly, it is all rusted and dirty. I tried washing it but the muck was too hard. It looks like there used to be some sort of engraving on it but that is all faded now.”
“May I see it?”
Anya handed over the ring without a pause; it was a worthless piece of metal, confirmed by one of the merchants back in Tjorin Vale. Jalee turned the thick band over and over in her hands. Her brow was creased and a little pink tongue had crept out from between her full lips.
“So you don’t know what it is?” Jalee asked finally.
“As far as I know it’s a ring; a very old one.” Anya frowned. “Would you suggest I am mistaken? Have you seen its like before?”
Jalee shrugged. She returned the ring and sat back in her chair, raising her hand to her mouth and staring into the flames. Her brow twitched in thought.
“Is it not just a ring?” Anya pressed, feeling snubbed for information.
“I am not certain if it is more, or if it is not.” Jalee replied simply. Her cerulean eyes darted back to the ring, clearly fascinated, however, the line of her mouth stated just how much she was prepared to say.
Anya felt the fingers of irritation curling around her. She would demand the information out of Jalee if need be. “But it must have some other property! You look like you have just solved an important mystery.”
Jalee smiled, her eyes finally leaving the ring. “A mystery? No, I have solved no mystery. I have discovered a careless error on someone’s part, but other than that, there is nothing important in that band of yours in that state.”
“So it once had value?”
“Questions, questions, questions. I have never met such a demanding youth before. Finish your tea and do not worry about that silly pile of rust. It has no worth to you, but I warn you: show it to no guardian. They will not appreciate such things, understand?”
“But why-“
“No! No more questions about the matter.”
Anya bit her lip and kept silent.
“Have you no other requests?” Jalee asked in an inquiring voice that Anya thought had just a touch of irritation to it.
“I am not allowed to ask the ones I have.”
“Oh Silverbark child! Do not sulk in my presence. I have not the time nor the patients.”
“I am not sulking,” Anya cried but quickly regained her composure. “Do you need me to leave?”
“Why would you ask that?”
“You said you have no time so I thought – “
“For whining and sulking,” Jalee snapped. “Now, I am sure you have many questions for me, just think about it a bit more. Something your teacher has not told you. Come, come, think.”
Anya squeezed the ring that lay in her palm and thought of all that had ever questioned her mind up until now.
“Do not tell me your teacher has kept nothing from you?” Jalee asked sternly.
“No, she has kept some things away but I cannot think of any questions at the moment except for ones around my ring.”
“Stop thinking about it. It is of no importance to you. Move on.”
“Why did you not become a guardian?”
“Same reason I did not become a pyra.”
Anya raised her brow expectantly.
“I did not want to become classified as anything. Why should I have to fit into one of two boxes just because I have been cursed with a stronger Will power than others? It is a ridiculous idea; one I refuse to support.”
“But pyree are dangerous? How can you even consider becoming one?”
Jalee threw her head back. “By the gods, they start early. Tell me child: when a fox stalks a hare is he dangerous to that hare?”
“Of course.”
“And what about the cubs that the fox is trying to feed? Is said fox dangerous to them?”
Anya opened her mouth but closed it again.
“Just like beauty and magic, danger differs from the point-of-view.”
“So they are not dangerous?”
“Of course, they are!” Jalee laughed. “If you are an enemy of a pyra you should consider yourself a very unlucky person, but if you are a friend of one… I do not need to finish my sentence do I?”
Anya shook her head. “I understand. guardians are enemies of the pyree and so they are considered dangerous to us.”
“And likewise you guardians are dangerous to them.”
“But, they are apart of the Elemental Nations?”
“Of course! If they were not, then all of us would have something to worry about.”
“But surely a bunch of unorganized travelers could not beat guardian, feiries and elves in a Will combat?”
“Ah, but their talents lie not in the Will. Yes, they possess the abilities, but that is not what is so dangerous about them.”
“What is dangerous then?” Anya leaned her chin on her hand and watched Jalee pull at a strand piece of material that dangled from her loose dress.
“Their tongues for one,” Jalee smiled. “They are masterminds with words. But they possess a skill that no other has yet to find. A very dangerous skill for everyone if put into the wrong hands.”
“What is it?”
Jalee lowered her voice to an almost whisper. “Cura. But I am sure you will learn more of the skill from your teacher. But enough of this. Next topic.”
Anya spent the next hour talking to Jalee. The young woman had not been the strongest in her village and was therefore not chosen to become a guardian like Anya had. She had then discovered her ability when she turned eighteen and had told nobody, too afraid of what it all meant. Jalee had then moved out of the village and eventually settled here in Rhine a few years ago. She had bought a small house and became the town's healer. Her father and mother had been herbalists before they died, and so she decided to continue with the family business. As for the dead baby goblins, she had first stumbled across them during one of her travels up north and had collected them ever since.
After her second cup of tea, Anya decided it was time to leave. Jalee walked her to the door.
"We will meet again, Anya."
"We will?" Anya asked with a small smile on her face. She liked Jalee, she enjoyed her company, but most of all she enjoyed her openness to questions. Irien never answered her questions properly and Jalee had answered all the ones she could. It had not helped Anya too much, most of the information she already knew before, but it was good to hear it from somebody else.
"Yes, but I'm not too sure if your mind will still control the matter, oe the matter will control the mind."
"What do you mean?" she had already stepped across the doorway and Jalee was watching her with narrow eyes. Her small frame leant against the doorpost and her arms were folded across her breasts.
Jalee smiled, "Questions, questions, questions. Quite the curious Guardian, are we not?"
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