Preface?

The snow torrented down, the scream of the wind would have been deafening to any ears trapped out in the storm. A solitary hound stalked out in the chill, it bounded in attempt to extract itself from the piles of cold. Whimpering hatefully, it leaped again and ran face-first into what it had been searching for in the despicable blizzard. The dog bayed, clawing at an ornately carved door. Another cry sounded, but not from the canine. A high pitched shout came from in the house and as the wind took a moment to quiet, the hound could hear the obvious stirring of his masters inside.

Another voice that had the essence of a creaking door sounded quietly, the hound tilted his head. After the voice was done speaking a clean, green glow emanated from the valleys in the carvings. There was a click, and the dog muzzled his way into the house. The voice sounded again, low and at some times cracking soprano, and the snow caked all over the fur and paws tumbled outwards--as if driven by a wind-- out the door and the door shut itself again gleaming a lovely green once again. The dog padded up to one of the quilted beds in nuzzled the old, wrinkled hand hanging off the edge of the bed. The gnarled hand scratched behind the dog’s ears and jerked up to a woman’s face where she coughed violently and then sunk back into a large stack of cream pillows. Her aged hair seemed to disappear in the plethora of aged pillows, her face rigid and pale from the cold and ill. Her eyes were dark and sunken, and rolled back in agony. A raspy breath tore from between her lips, and her closed eyes had looked nearly no different than her open eyes.

A cry filled the small house again, and the old woman struggled to sit up and look across the house. The hound lifted an ear and whimpered, turning to look at the other side of the house as well. A young woman and man huddled on the other small bed, both wide eyed and terrified. The woman breathed heavily, her dress and hair were sticking to her honey-brown chest and face. The old woman struggled over, using the dog to help her hobble to a chair at the foot of her bed.

“Gwydion!” the old woman wheezed, “It’s about time. Why did you not put snow on the stove when I last asked?” The young man nodded, but then stayed next to the young woman to rub her back. “For sky’s sake Gwydion! The comfort you give is temporary. Get out there with the pot and get some snow. Now!”

He kissed the woman on head and ran to the stove where their cast iron pot sat and ran out the door. Just as quick as he was out, he ran back in with a sizzling pot of melting snow and replaced it on the stove. The old woman motioned for him to bring the woman over to the footboard where the old woman sat. The old woman shouted at the young man about rags, and he scrambled around knocking over many things, smashing a vase in the process of searching the house. The two women paid no mind, the young one dropping to her knees in a wail. She gripped her stomach, ripe and plump with motherhood. Bearing her teeth, shrieking again.

“Sho-sho,” she wimpered. “Sho-sho it hurts. It's been too long, all night and day. Something is wrong. Something has to be wrong.”

“Love, it is all right. Your mother had long birthing pains before you, I had long birthing pains before her, all the women in our family labor long.” The old woman placed her hand on the laboring woman’s stomach, “I feel them fighting in there, Rhion, they are strong! They are gathering as much strength from you as they can before entering into this world. They will need it, have you seen how it is out there now? Yes, darling. They will be strong.”

The young woman shrieked again, high pitched and anguished. She curled up with high pitched sobs, “Sho-sho, I can't do this. I can't.”

“My little bird,” Sho-sho crooned, “you are struggling against the child. I know how hard it is the first time, when everything is so new. You need to loosen instead of clench. Low moans when you want to scream. Your voice will push down on the baby to help them, rather than reaching out into the room.”

“I can't, I can't do it. My body is not strong enough, or will rip me apart!”

“Darling everything is as-” a wet plop came and they looked down. Instead of a crying child, there was a bloody, snotty looking thing laying at the end of the cord. The old woman trembled and the young women howled, grabbing her stomach. “The afterbirth.” The old woman choked she ripped off the lace ribbon on her nighty and tightly tied around the cord, “Listen there's only one thing I can do Rhion. Only one thing to save you and your baby. I need you to look me in the eye and nod if you understand.”

The young woman nodded and looked at the old woman, shaking violently and sweating in even more in pain. Her tense stomach rippled, the child inside thrashing.

“Rhion, I am old and frail, but you know I was once a powerful Healer. I still have that ability in me, but I expect it will take all of me with it. With your new life you will also have to bury me.”

“Sho-sho, no.” The woman interrupted.

“My bird, I will die soon anyway. I am going to give this gift whether or not you ask. All I want is for you to not grieve for me. I have lived a long and happy life. I will not see you and my great-great grandchild perish whilst I had the ability to stop it.” And the old woman carefully laid her hands on the young woman's stomach and ordered her to push. The young woman knelt and clung to the iron of the bed, moaning deeply. The stomach slightly transparent through the glow of the old woman's hands. The baby headed down, stopping for a moment as the young woman caught her breath. The old woman instructed her to push again, and the obeyed-- bearing down and grinding teeth, knuckles white on the wrought iron. The baby moved down again. The old woman instructed for a last push, and the woman gave it her all. The green glowed brighter and then faded, and the old woman slumped in her chair hanging her head off the back, her arms swaying at her sides.

The baby still was not out. The young woman, Rhion, bared her teeth with a guttural snarl and pushed the child out at last. But it did not scream nor move. Rhion picked the baby up, trained by years of her own Healing and rubbed the child's back, her hands glowing very faintly green. Then she smacked at the baby's bottom and pinched her feet. The baby cried out, and so did the woman, tears streaming down her face.

Gwydion, her husband, came to her with the hot water and rags. A healer, attuned to his place and duty in this scene, he knew what needed to be done now. He kept his head down and did all his cleaning duties. The baby fussed as it was being cleaned off, and the afterbirth was cut off and put out into the snow to keep it cold and clean for later.

“I'm sorry,” he said. “I've witnessed and helped with so many births, yet I did almost nothing to help with our child. You must be ashamed.”

“Posh” Rhion reprimanded, “I've been Healing and midwifing since I was a girl and I did nothing with my skills. It plainly must be different when it's your own situation, especially with our first.”

“That’s hardly the same thing. You were toiling at women’s work and I did nothing important.” He hung his head as he finished his work and hurried over to a closet to get a new change of clothes and a blanket for the babe. He helped the woman up and lead her to the bed with a change of clothes and put the remainder of the hot water in the basin on the table to clean off with. He placed the tightly wrapped infant in a pulled out dresser drawer. Then the man went and laid the old woman on her bed, crossed her arms across her chest, and gently closed her eyes. He went into the kitchen and fetched the box that they had been preparing for a while.

“My darling,” he said, “I know it’s much to ask after everything you’ve already done. But you know well it’s not my place to give these blessings. Do you need help moving?”

“I do,” the new Mother replied, “and I shall need you to move the chair to the head of the bed, as I can’t stand all that well now.”

Obediently, her husband moved the chair quickly and helped her across the small space. Helping her sit down, he also brought her the cleaning basin and all else she required. The woman braided up her thick ebony locks, ending in a kind of knot on the back of her head. The old woman’s hair had already been braided up, as she had been preparing for her departure for weeks now. After that was finished, the Mother motioned the man away, and he stumbled outside to retrieve another pot of water. However, after retrieving the snow, he returned outside and the door closed after him--glowing a familiar grassy green.

Her fingers as delicate as glass, the Mother opened the wooden box that was endued with the same carvings as the door. She pulled out several vials of liquid, dried flowers, some lace, and a small bowl of rich earth. She chanted, doing all that was necessary for a peaceful journey for her sho-sho, her great grandmother. The new Mother teared up, although she did her best to keep the wishes of the old woman, it was difficult not to let her soul be moved by the absence in the room. This old Mother, she was a great head of house and Healer; therefore, she deserved so much more than what this humble young couple could provide. But they saved up, getting all the supplies needed to give this old Mother the rituals that she had earned for her whole life of service. The woman sprinkled essences, rubbed in oils, and finally laid the dried flowers where they belonged. She sat for a moment when she was finished, a tear dripping off her chin.

This small period of silence was punctuated with a cry. The young babe had been unusually quiet while the ceremony was underway, as if sensing the importance of the moment, and only gave her mother a moment of contemplation before she demanded all attention on herself once again. The Mother let out a few quiet words, and the door opened with green luminescence. Her husband rushed to her and brought the babe to her so that it could nourish itself. The young mother grimaced and repositioned the child a couple of times before accepting the pain and allowing the baby to nurse.

“She was quiet the whole time Gwydion.” Rhion murmured, “It was as if she knew it was custom for death to be followed by silence.”

“Infants have always been an exception to that rule.” He reminded, “It’s not as if she needed to be still.”

“Yet she was.” the Mother continued, “Not a sound, not a whimper, not even a rustle of her drawer. I can sense a power in her, a wisdom. Do you think Sho-sho could have known, even with her in my womb?”

“She was Mother for a long while, I guess it could be possible.”

“What shall we name her?”

“Well we had been thinking of naming a girl after your mother…”

“Yes, but she was the only dead relative I knew of before. I think it’s right to name her after Sho-sho. It was only because of her that this babe was able to enter into the world, and she did end up departing just before this little one got to enter in.”

“If that’s what you think is best.”

“It is what’s best. When we have another girl we can name that one after my mother. But Sho-sho gave her life up for this babe, so it’s only right that this is the one to carry on her legacy. I know it.”

“She’ll no longer be Sho-sho though, I’ve actually never learned Sho-sho’s real name.”

“Rhearn.”

“That was the name of the Sorceress, was it not?”

“Of course, only the most powerful in Magick and Healing earn this name. I sense power in her. She deserves it.”

*** *** ***

Rhearn grew and they watched as her pale rosy clay-colored skin grew darker. Maturing into a rich, deeper, bronze. She was darker than both her parents, who had more red-gold hues, but when she was toddling around in the sun the golden undertones to her flesh was obvious. Not long after she started to toddle along on her own, she received a baby sister. This girl was named after her grandmother, Arden, the name she almost took until her namesake gave her life. Arden was born in the Spring, and it was easier for nearby family Healers and healers to help the Mother along with a labor that was quick and painless compared to her first. Just like after her birth, Rhearn was silent most of her existence. She giggled when and shouted when frightened, but otherwise refused to utter a single word. Even after Arden started to toddle, Rhearn had still not said much.

Her parents were not worried, as words had power and there was a resonance about Rhearn that made them believe she could move the landscape once she learned to speak. Soonafter Arden began to toddle there came a third child, a very stubborn babe. Named after his paternal grandfather Delwyn was prayed over in hopes he would keep the meaning of his name, neat and fair, and not dishonor his family with his grandfather’s warfaring reputation. A second chance for the honorable and beloved name of healers and peacemakers alike, tarnished by one terrible relative. After that there were no more children from the Mother, now versed in her duties as head of the family.

Once Rhearn was old enough, having lived through five summers, Rhion would bring her along to her duties as the head Healer. They relished in this time together, and Rhion remembered when she started her training at the same age. She, however, had shown some signs of Magick by then, while Rhion stayed silent and did not show much promise at all yet. Even young Arden had started harnessing the power of the natural energy around her. Every flower blooms in it’s own time, and Rhion taught and practiced with Rhearn whenever she could. Until the time Rhearn learned to Heal she could always help with the important, though lesser, healing duties.

Years passed and Rhearn still refused to utter a syllable. Her younger sister had already become a competent Healer, and was well versed in all kinds of Magicks. There was only so much that poor Rhearn could do if she could only heal as the men could. She was put before an entire room of healers, thinking she could be mute, and her power lost with her words. But she could shout when pricked and laugh when tickled. They thought perhaps something might be wrong with her mind to disallow her the function of speech. After doing all the different possible healing sessions they could, finally they determined that she simply must not be ready to use words. One of the eldest of the Mothers in the community guessed that perhaps she knew her power too well and kept it locked away, so she did not do any damage by mistake. Another coldly accused that Rhearn was, perhaps, too scared to speak because she knew that she had no power.

Her mother never gave up on her, continuing to allow her to heal alongside her even after her own younger sister had gone off to start her own Healing as the head of her own household. Then her brother left the household to be a part of his own family, to do all the dirty men’s work, and had been snatched up a woman that would have the honor of being the next Mother of her family. Rhearn stayed at home, the eldest of all her sibling and a flower that still had yet to bloom. After over a quarter of a century, finally uttered her first words while buttering toast at the dinnertable.