Whispers of the Deep

The Shaman’s Blessing

Chapter One

It was the tinkle of tiny bells wafting across the vastness of the plain that first alerted the youth. He swallowed down the fear grasping his throat and wiped the palms of his hands down his buckskin pants. It was his turn to guard the entrance to the settlement – and apart from the children and their minders inside the gathering house, he was alone.

On the plain’s horizon, dust appeared to gather and swirl like sand devils around the skirts of the approaching women. Involuntarily, his mind warned: Marsh Wives, before reason assured him they could not possibly be of harm – besides, there were only two – and one was a small child.

As the females neared the gates, the youth could see the child was lame, making the rhythm of the bells around her ankles sound off-beat – creating discord with the perfect chimes of the old woman who accompanied her.

Invitingly, he opened a gate ready and waited for them to pass.

As the females moved by he could see that the layers of rags covering the old woman hid her true shape and the high-pitched tinkle of her bells caused confusion in his mind. He had heard stories of Marsh Wives – told to him in hushed voices by older cousins – and warned by sisters and aunts – never to allow one to embrace him for young men lost their innocence to these witches. He had heard that on the flowering of a fertility plant called the Mooncap they rolled over the prickly petals to puncture their naked bodies with its erotic musky perfume.

Yet when the old woman spoke, her voice held music – not unlike that of the bells hidden in her skirts – music that belied the wrinkles on her face.

‘We have travelled far, my lovely, and are in need of sweet water to drink and to bathe away the dust of the plains.’

The young man swallowed again and tried to sharpen his wits. He coughed and wiped another layer of sweat down his thin, deer-hide trousers. The woman’s deep purple eyes bore into his soul – waiting for him to speak.

‘Do not be troubled my lovely, we will find what we came for.’

Keeping her eyes on his, she indicated with a sideways nod towards the central building – a huge circular construction with a reed-thatched roof. ‘Be calm my lovely, I presume we will find Urdeth, the wife of your chief in that Roundhouse.’

In a trance, he watched them almost glide past; his ears ringing and tinkling – her voice echoing against his skull – like the sound of water trickling onto deep pools inside a huge cavern.

The sun was high, casting shadows around the feet of the strangers – both barefooted – both tinkling their bewitching melodies with every step. He caught glimpses of the old lady’s ankles – and glints of the tiny bells that covered the silver bracelets around her legs.

The little girl turned her head back towards him and her smile broke the spell he was under. He smiled back – unaware he was now under her spell. She held her head high, and continued towards the Roundhouse, but now it was her lopsided, offbeat jingle that filled the hot, midday air.

Inside the cool of the building, children ran and played games, some singing repetitive songs, whilst others drew pictures in the dust.

The tinkle of hidden bells paused their play, prompting them to look to the brightness of the Roundhouse’s entrance, and to the silhouettes of an old woman and a little girl who they guessed to be no more than three summers old.

‘Welcome,’

Urdeth greeted whilst rising from the dirt floor, ‘come into the shade and sit down. I will have the children fetch water – please, this way.’ The Chief’s wife gestured to a cluster of simple benches placed by the open hearth of an unlit fire.

Perak, daughter to Urdeth and also three summers old, emerged from the games she had been playing and ran towards the new child. She took hold of her hand, urging her to go with her. Before the old lady let the lame child free, she whispered assurances to trust the little girl. Wide-eyed and puzzled by the remark, she stared at the face of the crone for several heartbeats. Before long, a bluish-black blur moved across the corner of her eye and landed in the rafters of the cone-shaped roof. Reassured, she gave the old lady a nod and allowed herself to be led to a courtyard at the rear of the building where a sparkling stream fell like a miniature waterfall onto rocks to form a cluster of shallow, soothing pools.

‘The water tastes good. Drink your fill. I am called Perak.’

The little girl chattered non-stop whilst the newcomer washed away the dust and drank scooped handfuls of water. Perak sat on a boulder dangling her feet into one of the pools and, when her new friend had quenched her thirst, she moved up to make room, ‘Come, sit by me, the water is cool, what do they call you?’

‘I am Fiedra.’

When they returned to the Roundhouse, Perak sensed something was wrong, she kept hold of Fiedra’s hand and steered her to where her cousins sat cross-legged on the cool ground. ‘What happened?’ She asked Kira, an older girl with responsibility for keeping the children safe during their play.

‘Your mama sent the old woman away.’

She whispered, ‘I think she is afraid of her.’

Perak bristled, ‘Mama isn’t afraid of anyone.’

‘I tell you, the old lady was scaring her.’

Perak turned to Fiedra, ‘Why should your grandmother wish to scare my mama?’

Fiedra turned her eyes up to the huge roof, scanning the beams supporting the thatch – searching for something. A raven ruffled its blue-black feathers – drawing her attention. She smiled and breathed easier. ‘My companion,’ she told Kira at last, ‘isn’t my grandmother; she is a Marsh Guide – a wise woman of the plateaus and the deserts. She navigates them and was given the task of bringing me here – so that I can be nurtured by the wife of your chief, Urdeth.’

Perak clapped her hands together, ‘I knew it – we are to become friends. We will be the best of friends.’

Kira looked past the childish eyes of Perak to study those of the newcomer. There she saw the eyes of a girl who was physically similar in age to Perak, yet mentally older and a lot less trusting. Kira sensed this lame child had witnessed many things, none of which contained much fun.

Urdeth grabbed their attention when she stormed back into the gathering house. She was incandescent with rage, striding back and forth, hissing words, cursing the air beyond the entrance, making signs towards the plains and using language unknown to Kira.

The moment Urdeth strode past the group of children and into the courtyard, Kira got to her feet. ‘Come, little ones,’ she urged. ‘You too,’ she said as she grabbed Fiedra by the arm. ‘Quickly now, it is time we played elsewhere.’