Under the face of god

Berach and Lineera
Autumn, Year 756
Banks of Swan River, Oakfern


Linna

It was quiet today. Or was it tonight? She hadn’t been outside for too long.. the days and nights all blurred together sometimes when you were in the caves. Since she had realised there was a little thing growing inside of her, the pale doe had become almost home-bound. Pregnancy and motherhood apparently made her feel unsafe outside of the caves, and the desire to protect her unformed baby had surprised her with its strength. She had not even left Oakfern territory since realising she was pregnant, and she was beginning to feel, if not trapped, then at least slightly constrained. Linna was not the home-bound type, and it ill-suited her to stay cooped up in the tunnels.

She shook her head quickly, trying to dislodge these thoughts. If she was not sure if it was day or night, there were two ways to find out. She could go to the Moonpool and look up at the sky or she could go out. She desperately wanted to do the latter, but her suddenly maternal heart was pushing her towards the former. It was so cramped in here! She had always been too tall, and now her belly was swelling she felt too wide as well. Her lungs were aching for fresh air and surely some fresh fruit and grasses would do little baby good?

“Out,” she said to herself, her voice almost a breath rather than words.

Turning - she had already found herself wending towards the Moonpool, treacherous legs! - she whipped her tail behind her and ducked her head. She would take one of the back tunnels that let out by the River Swan. It was a safer area there, and if she stayed close to the water then she would have all the defense she needed from jaguars. Unless a rogue Windborne had crossed the sea, she would be safe from fawnlings too.

Just as awkwardly as always, she picked her way down the low, narrow tunnel. Her hooves scraped on the floor, her single antler scraped on the ceiling and her fattening belly did on two occasions brush along the wall. It already began to seem worthwhile when the first breeze from the outside began to waft into her nostrils, and she picked up her pace, almost breaking into a canter as she finally saw the exit ahead.

“Ah,” she murmured, slowing to a halt as she left the tunnel. “Night.”

Berach

The autumn night was cool and bright, Gealach bathed the old stallion in silver light as he made his slow ponderous way along the banks of the River Swan. There was a slight red glow about him, almost cancelled out by the moon’s light. A grand set of antlers adorned his head, and he carried it low while he travelled. The tines were broad, ribbed and curved, proudly proclaiming his age. It was obvious to most that he was nearing the end of his prime, but despite the pained way he moved, there was still strength left in him yet.

His limp was pronounced tonight, the dull tip of the hooves on his lame rear leg drawing a distinctive trail behind him. The old wound pained him, and he had ventured out of the cave in need of flora that did not grow inside the caves. Without daily medicine he would become immobile from the constant ache in his joints and the dull throb of pain in his lamed leg. He hated to be a burden on others, so he’d come out to gather his own remedies. He carried the leaves he had gathered tucked into one of the bindings on his tail, keeping his mouth free for the occasional sip of water from the life-giving river.

It seemed odd for an old stag to venture out into a world that was so fraught with danger, but it had been a long time since Berach had cause to fear any predator or rival. He could sense an approaching foe as easily as he could sense an eddy of water in the river. Water was his element, the power gifted to him by Gealach himself. While he did not rival the Oracle, he hardly needed to fear a jaguar, or a curious Silverthorne.

As he neared the cave entrance, he stopped to rest beside the river, closing his eyes and feeling the current as it swirled and turned like a dance. It was a beautiful feeling, and silently he thanked Gealach for His gift, face turned up to the moon. He settled himself on the sandy bank, grateful for the respite it offered his tired hooves. He could easily have sat there all night. The moon had travelled a quarter of the sky before he sensed something approach.

Opening his eyes, he turned his head so he might see past his antlers; they rather impaired his field of vision in autumn and winter. Something was coming out of the cave, and Berach was not surprised to see a Fawnling exit the cave. He recognised the tall horned doe, and a gentle smile came to his lips. “Night indeed, Lineera. I sense congratulations are in order,” in truth, the rumours of her pregnancy had reached him without him having to discover for himself, but he could not resist reaching out with his power and investigating the new life stirring in her belly.

Fawns were a wondrous thing, and since he’d never had any of his own, they were doubly intriguing. That was until they were born, at which point they served to confuse and dizzy the old stag with their bounding and playing. Berach was not as well submerged in the community as most, and he could not recall if this was her first fawn or not. Regardless, she seemed pleased, and he was happy for her.

Linna

The spindly doe should have perhaps expected to find another of the shaman here. The river with its bubbles and eddies could sing to your soul if you reached out for it, and to be out here under Gealach’s watchful gaze, feeling the song of the river in the heart of your very being was more than could be dreamed of. But then, she had not known it was night, and the river in the day was a very different thing. The Swan was a kindly river, but under the sun’s heat it would attract the worst of things - large toothy things were probably the best of them, it was the little buzzing things that zipped about, waiting for you to drink just so they could bite at you that were the curse of the river.

She should perhaps have been feeling out for others, testing the surroundings for their blood and spit and bile and the water they held, but, alas, this developing thing inside of her was a distraction! She stepped forwards, blinking slowly in the old stag’s direction.

“I have not been out for too long,” she replied, “nor have I been to the Moonpool. Night and day are difficult in the tunnels. And I thank you,” she added, a smile touching at her lips.

When touched by water magic, it was rarely something you could feel. If you had no affinity for water magic, or only a weak one unless the magician was moving your, or cooling or boiling  your blood you would not feel a thing. But Linna, while perhaps not as powerful as the proud-headed stag in front of her, had a deep and strong connection with the water, and out of habit now she kept a silent touch on the shape of her growing baby. When Berach reached to her womb, to caress the little figure there, she could certainly feel it - and it tickled. Now, that was certainly a surprise, and even more to her surprise the tall doe shied to the side and began to laugh.

When his magic drifted back, she was still giggling..

“Oh, that is a most singular experience!”

Berach

The older stag had the grace to look chagrined, and bowed his head. “My apologies, Lineera, habit. You must have been practicing well if you could sense me,” he added, a hint of pride in his voice. Not all young Oakferns had the drive and determination to improve themselves beyond what was expected of them. Lineera must be an astute learner, to be so skilled at her age.

With a grunt, the old stag got his forelegs under him and with an effort, lifted his heavy head and body from the sand. His balance appeared precarious as the stood, the large set of antlers shifting his centre of gravity too far forward, but he was expecting it, and caught himself before he pitched forward into the river. Every year the weight of his antlers grew, and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t looking forward to shedding this set.

Standing next to her, he was almost a good hand shorter than the green-eyed doe but he hardly noticed. When you were only just over eight hands high, it was more of a shock to see a Fawnling shorter than yourself. He bowed his head slowly, “The cycles of night and day mean little inside without the Moonpool to judge them by, I agree. I myself have not ventured outside in a while. I’ll admit, the open air is refreshing on a night like this.” He glanced out across the river, seeing things almost clear as day with his pupils so well accustomed to the darkness of the caves. Their individual glows reflected in the ripples of the river before them, merging green and red as the water danced and played with the Oakfern’s neon auras.

“Did you come out for any reason in particular?” He asked, curious, with an indication that he was willing to help should she need it. Despite having already walked a fair while that night, he would hardly leave Lineera out here alone when there could be dangers lurking.

Linna

At his apology, the pale doe shook her head gently. She was still smiling, and her green eyes still had the light of mirth in them.

“Do not apologise, Berach. You are of the water. I am sure the little one would reply if it could.”

Linna did not fully acknowledge his compliment, and simply nodded. It was not in her nature to embrace such things. Water magic was if not her living, then certainly how she survived; it was necessary to her very being. Though she was too tall for an Oakfern, she was still tiny compared to the stocky Silverthornes or the vertiginous Blackwoods. To survive amongst them - or, as in the spindly shaman’s case, to escape from them - powerful magic was a necessity.

As the older stag shifted, Linna stepped away. In her laughter at that strange sensation, the doe had stepped closer to her fellow shaman than she had realised, and though he was certainly smaller than her he had a great deal more bulk. She had never spent long enough with Berach  to know him well, but the great weight of his antlers combined with that maimed back leg was enough for her to step backwards. He rose without difficulty, and a part of her was faintly ashamed.

“The air here is like being born,” she replied, her eyes skittering away from him, across the faintly glowing river and again up towards the moon. “The tunnels are safe,” she added, and then fell silent again for a moment, contemplating the other shaman’s question. Her features were still touched by a smile and her strange green eyes had more than the light of the moon in them.

Linna was relieved to be outside, and Berach’s ticklish company was, pleasantly, a surprise. The oppressive protectiveness this growing child inside of her had awakened in her soul was fading in the fresh air and her laughter.

“I need the air, and the river,” she answered at last. “To be confined is not within me.”

There was silence for a moment more as she gazed at the vague ripples of their reflections in the river.

“What brings you out?”

Bereach

The old stag only caught a fleeting glimpse of her expression as she turned away, but he had seen it enough times to know it, and accept it. Even when he had been young, the sight of his mangled leg made it uncomfortable for Fawnlings to look upon him with anything other than pity, or disgust. Only when his powers had started to become better than average did those looks tend towards apprehension, or even fear. That combined with the heavy rack of antlers he now carried and the ghost of old scars in his roaned coat caused some younger fawns to flee in terror, or stare in outright awe. Lineera was old enough to know he was not as fearsome as he appeared, but he could not begrudge a youthful doe like her to not regard him as if he were any other stag in the herd. He thought her brave, kind in fact, to even spare conversation for him. Most does her age had no time for a ragged old man like him.

He look a deep breath, letting it out in a pleasant sigh. “I came out to gather some herbs,” he said, gesturing to the bundle of foliage tucked into his tail binding, “Though truly I just needed an excuse to see Gealach face-to-face,” he cast a fond glance to the moon. The trip had the double advantage of making Zhaenn’s recent pestering lessen for a while. The stubborn herbalist was always complaining that he was draining her stock of this particular leaf, since his daily need for it was taxing on supplies. Rather than let the half-blind saboteur make another outside excursion for his sake, he’d opted to make the trip this time. it was the least he could do for her, after all.

“The night air has an allure for all Oakferns,” he mused aloud, “There was once a time when the night was ours, and the caves were only a nighttime shelter. Gealach once showed it to me. He did not just give us the water in the caves. The clouds were ours, the rain was ours, the rivers and the lakes. The seas. Oakfern were not meant to be confined to the caves and the Moonpool.” The words might have been bitter from another Fawnling, but from Berach, they were wistful. “Your ancestors’ blood must flow strong in your veins, Lineera, some Oakferns have already forgotten what was once ours. They are happy spending their lives inside, looking out.”

Linna

The pale doe’s eyes were fixed on her dark companion now. They were luminous in the moonlight, twin green circles of unnerving, unwavering brightness. There was still the light of laughter in them, but that dimmed as the older shaman spoke. Berach should not be collecting herbs for himself, should he? He was powerful, yes, but surely the strain on that wounded leg... but could he control the leg? With his magic? He was said to be nearly as powerful as Mindelan, and if he could control the water in another body, could he control the water inside his own mangled leg?

Linna realised she had been quiet for longer than was usually considered polite, and had been staring intently at Berach’s leg the entire time. This would not usually embarrass her and it did not entirely this time, but her ears dropped slightly and she dipped her head, instinctive movements that spoke of submission and respect.

“To control the seas...” she had latched on to one fraction of Berach’s words, only to drift away again, spurred by her thoughts on his leg and the fact that he must search for his own herbs. “Yet we do not control ourselves. I hear of those who dream of power over others and gorge on mushrooms and drive themselves mad with dreams of the words of Gealach, and I have spoken to a Silverthorne who tells me that there is even a Moon Goddess, and her name is Luan. I have heard Gealach only once and only then after eating fermented fruit, but Mindelan has told me that he watches us constantly. We fear and we plot and we worry...” she trailed off again, strange eyes still fixed on Berach’s leg. She had never looked elsewhere, even as she was speaking to him, and the silence yawned between them.

Suddenly, she jerked her head up to meet the old stag’s eyes head on, perhaps for the first time so far this evening. “All I desire is the sky and the moon and water.”

In her eyes and those words there were the shadows of laughter, and some dark hint of playfulness that was hitherto unknown. Quietly, she had reached out to the river and caught at a little wave, redirecting it and lifting it carefully so that it was now rolling through the air, directly behind Berach. Perhaps he could feel it, perhaps not. She would have to see.

Berach

She had not yet looked away from his leg since joining him, and he wondered not for the first time what ran through her mind while she gazed upon it. He remembered what he had felt when it was a fresh injury; disgust, abhorrence, shame. Many years ago he thought his image was what defined him. He had learned better since then, but it had taken him ten rotations of the seasons to stop feeling a pang of reproach at the sight of it. That withered unresponsive limb was just as much a part of him now as the remaining three legs, and it had changed his fate for the better in the end.

Berach watched the green-clad doe with consternation when she mentioned talking to a Silverthorne. She should know better than that, surely? Her mind was sharp and quick enough to master water, and she longed for the sky and the moon, but it was a pity that the youth of today forgot why they longed for the skies. And who was to blame for forcing them into the caves.

He met her striking green eyes as they turned to his, and his expression was one that young Elspeth in particular was well accustomed to. He worried for those that did not realise the dangers of the outside world, and felt compelled to warn them that while Gealach was always watching over them, that did not mean he would swoop in to save a young doe from the hellfires of a Silverthorne. He helped those that helped themselves.

He took a breath to start on a well practiced speech about the dangers of Silverthorne, but a flutter of movement behind him caught his attention. Without turning, he gave the slightest smile as he identified it as pure water. The mischievous glint in Lineera’s eye suggested he wouldn’t have to look far for a culprit. With the slightest flex of his own magic, he picked his own wave of water from the river to mirror hers, passing it behind her with the intention of making it join hers when they reached the full circumference of the the circle.

“Controlling yourself is the first step towards controlling your future. Only if every Oakfern took that to heart would we be able to reclaim the skies and walk in the moonlight without fear. Silverthornes will talk of their moon and sun godesses, Glenmore have their star god, Blackwood preach to their heathen goddess of all things, even the Windbourne whisper of a god of the wind, but no Oathbreaker’s god is as powerful as Gealach, if they exist at all. Only he can give us the gift of the moon, the skies and the water that you, and all of us, dream of.”

The water was curling around them now, and Berach joined the two ends in a circle around them both, a symbol of the moon above. “To desire everything that you do is no small thing, Lineera. Between the sky, the moon and the water, that is almost everything in life.” He put a small thought out to feel the pair of beating hearts that shared the doe’s body. He smiled wistfully, and cast his face up at the moon. “Almost everything.”

Linna

He looked.. concerned. Did he not know? The other fawnlings… if you did not run at them with antlers pointing and paint a-glowing they were mostly curious. Shy: yes, afraid: sometimes, but mostly interested in why she was so far from home. Some assumed she was an exile, others never ventured an opinion. She had wintered in Silverthorne this year passed, she had spoken to Silverthornes and Glenmores - never Blackwood yet, but surely she would, and one day she would travel to Windborne too - she had never thought to be concerned. Berach was known for his wisdom but this was strange to see, that look of concern wrinkling his face...

Her head was tilted on one side, and a strange little smile was playing about her features as she considered what to say, keeping hold of the water in the air behind the stag all the while. Before she could find the words, though, something in the river changed. The water behind her was moving, gently lifted to match her own tumbling wave as it rolled on through the air and as they moved closer together the old stag took some control of the water she had playfully picked up.

“He told me not to hide, you know,” she replied, softly, toying with the water above them as she spoke, making it bud leaves like a strange circular vine. “He showed me why, and told me I must not.”

She did not wish to visit that part of her memories at this moment, and let herself think of it no more. Gealach was a benevolent God sometimes, but there was surely no greater cruelty than showing your children how their ancestors were slaughtered in vivid and terrible detail. The pale doe blinked, pushing the memory of the vision away, focussing on the water above instead... and pulling one of her leaves downwards to wave in front of Berach’s nose.

“A snack?” she asked, the odd little smile returning to her face. The leaf was large and flat - much like the leaf of a grapevine - and it hovered between them, obscuring his features from her. His nose was suddenly huge and bulbous and his magnificent antlers looked instead like a rather vainly styled mane slicked with some sort of grease or oil.

It took the majority of her control - that which was not playing with the water - to not to burst out laughing at once.

Berach

The old stag looked on the younger doe, saw the haunting in her eyes. Gealach had shown her something? A shiver ran down his spine and he looked up the the face of their god, shining bright, almost blinding in the sky. Berach knew what it felt like to converse with their god, to see visions, to hear whispers in his dreams that were not his own. If Gealach had told Lineera not to hide, then who was her to argue? Perhaps Gealach had a purpose for Lineera outside of the territory, just as Gealach had purpose for Berach in the caves of their home.

He nodded slowly, returning his focus to the present. The feel of the young doe’s magic where it intersected with his was a pressure against his mind. He could feel in the water where his magic ended and hers began. Her magic was much like his own, still wild and young but with the potential to be something phenomenal. Gealach must indeed have plans for her.

The water around them was taking shape, and he looked on as Lineera created vines out of the waves. More curiously, she formed leaves and brought one down in front of his face. ‘A snack?’ The humour ticked the old stag, and he looked at the distorted image of the pale doe through the rippling leaf shape. She was a strange one, but he could relate to that.

Reaching out with his magic, he offered her something he was usually hesitant to do unless the herd was in crisis. He offered her his magic. Like an open hand inviting her to take it, he brushed his magic against hers, softly closing his around it and tugging gently. She could resist if she wanted to - he could never be able to take her magic - but should she acquiesce...

The was a moment of resistance, like oil on water, and then he felt it dissipate. Their magic, previously holding up the watery vines separately, was now slowly intertwining and holding the vines aloft together.

Directing them both, he felt the strength of Lineera’s power working with his, though he knew from experience the exposure to his older magic would be a rush for Lineera. He was allowing her to lean on his power as he was holding hers higher, and the coordination would allow them to do something neither of them could do alone.

Turning his focus to the vines Lineera had built, he drew them with more detail, adding more leaves and even adding the detail of bark to the stems and veins to the leaves. It was easier to hold the image of what he wanted in his mind with the second power to lean on. The water was almost of a glassy quality now, still and serene. If it weren’t for the fact it was a construct of water, you might mistake it for a real plant. Closing his eyes briefly to concentrate on what he had planned next, he exhaled slowly, making the leaf in front of his face quiver and ripple. It broke from the vine, tumbling slowly through the air as if caught on a breeze.

To keep the shape and form of the ‘leaf’ while levitating it through the air would have been a strain for him alone, but with Lineera’s magic bolstering his own, he managed to blow the leaf over to the young doe.

There was the slightest hint of a mischievous smile on the old stag’s face before - quite abruptly - he dropped the leaf. It lost its form and became water once more, aimed squarely at Lineera’s face.

Linna

As the older stag smiled at her own distorted figure through the water leaf she felt something.. something ticklish again; it was as though instead of welcoming the fawn growing inside her Berach was greeting her. Not her physical form, there were no words or cordial bows, but closer to saying hello to her soul; the inner part where her magic sprang from and she almost laughed again as he gently, ever so gently, pushed inwards.

Oh, what a rush, what a heady, mind-spinning delight! She almost collapsed there and then - to have another’s magic flowing within you, around you, through you - and for it to be so in excess of your own!  She had known Berach was powerful, as powerful as the Oracle some said, but she had never imagined this and she gazed with renewed wonder through that watery leaf that hung between them.

The old stag, of course, was not reeling about, giddy as a fawn. He remained as steady and calm as a rock in the ocean but he was playing all the same; toying with their joint magic and the water above. The leaves were refined, the vine grew bark and the innate motion of the two waves that had originally formed the circle was completely stilled. She was helping now, perfecting this bud or that leaf, twisting that stem until hovering above them was a perfect plant, perfectly real in all but its transparency.

The stillness of the vines above them was beautiful, but in a strange way it was wrong.. and now Berach was changing that too, gently blowing that first hanging leaf across to her and…

splat

The younger shaman burst out laughing, her face covered with water. And he hadn’t even broken the bond between them yet! Still laughing, prancing awkwardly forwards, she lunged with her magic at the smaller leaves on the vine, cutting them loose from the stems and throwing them - rather less gracefully, and with rather less precise aim - at Berach.

“If I am to be wet, you shall be too!”


Berach

It took great effort for the older magician not to redirect the water away from himself, especially when it was mostly his own magic being used against him. The water-leaves hit him straight on, and splashed into a thousand sparkling droplets. The only part of him he kept dry was the area around his tail where he kept the herbs he carried, and the pouch dangling from his antlers. Fixing Lineera with a stoic stare, it seemed the older shaman was not amused by the trick.

Until the entire stream reared up like a glistening snake and threatened to drench the dusky doe as if she were standing under a waterfall. There was the slightest smile on the old stag’s face as he pulled on water from all around to form up into the ring of watervines round them. He kept pulling until the river had completely redirected, forming a still-flowing loop around them both. His eyes glazed a little with the maintained effort, and perhaps with something else.

The water vines had coalesced into water cliffs, and atop them staring down were watery figures, with twigs and sticks for antlers and small pieces of gravel for eyes. Dead black eyes. The water was less playful now, and Berach opened his eyes, the worry from before returned. He had not meant to disturb the playful setting, but his mind had not wanted to move on from what Lineera had said about hiding away.

Gealach’s purpose for him was to protect those in the Warren, to drive away those who would do them harm. If Gealach was to send Lineera into the open and not mean for her to die, then she must be careful. “Desire what you will from the sky and the moon and the water, but beware the Oathbreakers, young Lineera. Stand before them, do not hide as Gealach bids you, but do not trust them nor their gods.” The water around them made an ominous rattle, and it seemed Berach had frozen the tips of the water-fawnlings feet and the top of the water wall. They stamped and they tossed their heads, the clickity clack of ice against ice pounding a warsong.

“Eggbreaker. Fawntaker. Never forget the Oathbreakers,” he murmured, closing his eyes and relinquishing the bond between their magic. The waterwall began to lose structure, and gently Berach started to return the water to the streambed where it might return on its way, a silver ribbon of light under the face of their god.

Linna

The stag’s stoical gaze did not worry the pregnant shaman; after all, she could feel what he was doing with his magic, her magic too and she was about to leap, laughing and delighted away from the rearing water-snake when it changed again.. and the laughter began to drain away.

She felt the tiny fawnlings form, rather than seeing them. Felt it as her own magic, so much lesser than the older shaman’s strong though it was, manipulated and pushed into a lesson. It was a strange sensation and as she recognised the shapes that Berach was forming it was as if he were reaching in to the depths of her memories and pulling out that dark, forbidden image.

She looked up, silent and almost reverential, and she realised that she had not been breathing for some moments.

“Gealach showed you too,” she exhaled, finally, as the connection of their powers was broken.
“I won’t forget,” she added, her gaze turning first toward the river and then upwards, to the moon. “I could never forget.”