Born of Water, Born of Fire – Chapter 37

*Scene 01* – 00:00 (Ministering to Maeven)

“How is she?” James asked, upon arriving where Christie knelt by Maeven.

Christie leaned back, rubbing her hands on her thighs trying to get the numbness out and the blood flowing.

“Well,” she sighed, “The bleeding’s stopped thanks to the tourniquet.  Her wound is packed temporarily.  The ice has reduced the swelling around the wound and the blood vessels have shrunk impeding the flow from the gash.  I need to take that tourniquet off, but every time I try it, the blood starts flowing again.  Something’s preventing her blood from clotting.  Something was injected into her.  An anticoagulant.  She’s lost a lot of blood, and I can’t risk her bleeding out anymore.  She’s too anemic.  I need to get her off the ice, but right now it is the only thing, besides the tourniquet keeping her from exsanguination.  Her options don’t look good.  She is warmly clothed, but it’s wet and prolonged exposure to the ice may cause her to go into shock or be damaged by frostbite or hypothermia.”

Maeven moved her head from side to side, evidently hearing her prognosis, and wanting to say something, but Christie hushed her.

“Sweetie, I know, I know.  Don’t stress yourself.  I need you to calm yourself.  Keep your heart rate down.”

Maeven worked her lips, which were growing more pale and bluish by the moment.

Christie had raised Maeven’s injured leg so that it would be above her heart and perhaps somehow slow the bleeding.  The swiftly applied tourniquet and the packed strips of cloth she’d used to apply pressure and staunch the flow, were the reason Maeven was still alive.  She’d wrapped a piece of her cloak around scrapings from the ice to create a cold compress and shrink the natural swelling.  She had rinsed the wound with water from a wineskin flask and then had cut and used the wineskin as a wound covering to seal it against infection and tied the tourniquet above the wound to hold it in place.

“Can we move her?” Matt asked.

Christie paused a moment in thought.  Then responded, “If we do, I don’t want her heart raised above that wound.  Is there a way James could carry her lower torso since he’s taller?  Perhaps, Dominic, you can catch her under her arms and upper torso?”

The men moved forward to help and Matt asked, “What do you need me to do?”

“Go ahead quickly and ask Begglar and Nell if they have any sugar in the supply wagon?”

“Sugar?”

“Yeah, you heard me.  Now scoot!”

Matt took off shuffling and sliding as fast as he could while Christie supervised the careful lifting of Maeven according to her direction.  She had wondered about the log with the limbs, thinking perhaps it could be used as a travois but she wasn’t sure that Maeven could ride it inverted in her condition.

She’d read somewhere that ash would also staunch a bleeding wound, so if the sugar didn’t work fast enough, she hoped the ash would.  She would hate to have to cauterize the wound with her knives, but if it came to that she knew she would have to muster up the courage to do what was necessary.  Frontier medicine at its best, she mused.  Maeven wouldn’t die on her watch.

*Scene 02* – 00:00 (Scene Title)

*Scene 03* – 00:00 (Waking Will)

Meanwhile, Mason and I knelt beside Will and tried to wake him.  The pearl circulated nearby, rolling in extending gyres, having siphoned off the silver blood from Will’s body pulling the remaining smears for mercurial blood beads along its wake with its strange sort of magnetism.

I have been hesitant to ascribe any sort of sentience to the object, though it seemed to move in deliberate patterns and to be set about on a purpose as if it had some organic awareness within its polished shell.  Its movements were smooth and sweeping, however, and its speed was variegated to its tasks.  I scanned around us, hoping to spot whomever it was that might be controlling it remotely.  I sincerely doubted that this world had developed an RF frequency technology on their own, but since we modern Surface Worlders were roaming these lands, it was possible, however improbable as it seemed to me, that another Surface Worlder, not of our party, might also be roaming these lands independently.  I had never heard of concurrent forays from the outer lands, but I was not privy to all the aspects of this Mid-World and the known portals.  Something else was going on, and I did not know what.

*Scene 04* – 00:00 (Scene Title)

*Scene 05* – 00:00 (Pondering The Power of The Pearl)

The pearl was still a part of the supernatural world, as it was present in this Mid-World.  Somehow, I could sense that it occupied two different realities in the same instance.  No other creature or object had given me that feeling, but something about this particular object felt special.  A fragment of an Ancient verse came unbidden to my mind.

“..on earth as it is in heaven.  Whatsoever that you bind on earth, shall be bound in heaven.”  Matthew 16:19, 18:18

Suddenly this fragment struck me as odd and incongruent with my understanding of the physical and supernatural worlds.  What could possibly need to be bound in heaven?  Wasn’t heaven the throne room of the Almighty?  The realm of dwelling for the angels and supernatural beings surrounding the throne.  No evil could abide in God’s Presence, yet there were by implication somethings that needed binding and to be set loose.  What human action or interaction would possibly affect two realities.  Yet the concept was there.  Nagging at me on the edge of my subconsciousness.

So far, the giant pearl seemed to act and react, in particular, towards the spilled blood of the Moon Sprite creatures.  No, I corrected myself.  That is not entirely true.  It reacted to the blood of the Manticore as well.  Something they all seemed to have in common.

I had no doubt that the bizarre Moon Sprites were solely creatures of the Ether-Natural Between region where the portals connected through to our World.  Though kept from physically entering the Surface World by the Forbidding of the One, these denizens of darkness did have access to the Mid-World of creation’s metaphysical echo, to the extent of the progress of mankind.  I had a sense that the Manticore also was brought together into this weird hybridized creature by passage through the portal gates with contact to a beast of the ancient Surface World.  Both of these strange creatures were in essence creatures birthed within the Ether-Natural and belonged to it.  The residual human part of the Manticore was the only anomaly.  Another verse sprang to my memory:

“6 That which is born of the flesh is flesh; and that which is born of the Spirit is spirit.” [John 3:6 KJV]

Words of the One, spoken to a teacher of the law, by the Giver of the law governing the existence of the universe and all within it.  A key idea.

“5 …”I assure you, no one can enter the Kingdom of God without being born of water and the Spirit.” [John 3:5 NLT]

Of course.  These creatures were brought into being not by birth through water but of fire.  Their blood burned and scorched anyone of flesh who touched it.  The strange Pearl was expunging their fire from this Mid-World.  Cleansing it and cleaning up after the damage done.  Maeven, as a person of the Surface World, the same as any one of us, had been born both of water and of spirit.  Her blood, though tragically shed by that monster, did not need to be cleansed from the Mid-World because her presence here was not in abhorrence of creation’s ordained order.  She belonged.  But I knew if she were to die as a result, she would make the journey ahead in spirit alone.  Maeven’s presence in this Mid-World was beyond the portal transit, and beyond the transient touches of sleep-awakening.  If Maeven were to die here, she would never again awaken in the Mid-World.

Nell and I had discussed Maeven and her uniqueness regarding the connections to the story she related.  A story of sentient Surface World animals, anthropomorphized.  A distancing of personhood by extension.  Some painful memories dealt with and made sense of by putting types and characters into a place where the reality does not trigger such pain because the characters are projected into animals.  Maeven had a fondness for animals, so it would make sense that she would deal with her traumas by extension.  Nell had said she had lost her husband and children in a tragic accident.  It would certainly make sense why she might want to flee that terrible reality into an existence made possible by this extended Mid-World sojourn.  Her body was in a coma, her brain was active, but her lungs relied on machines to keep oxygen flowing steadily to her brain in twilight.  Nell had said that Begglar had returned to the Surface World to find out about Maeven and had found her in hospital.  I had wondered how Begglar had located Maeven in the Surface World, knowing only her first name, but it seems that her first name was particularly uncommon.  Less than 1,639 according to the census bureau statistical probability and of the 327.8 million people in the United States alone there was only 1.  Maeven was unique not only in name but precious to us as a valued and trusted friend.  We could not let her leave us so soon.  Like her story, her life was still unfinished, no matter how much distance she tried to put between herself and her waking life in the Surface World, I could not let her depart without having done all we could do in our power to preserve her life here.  She had lost a lot of blood.  The Manticore’s sting had bite and had drawn some of her life’s blood away from her.  Christie was a very competent and resourceful nurse, one could easily see that, but what was needed was some kind of miracle intervention.  And oddly, I believed that dealing with these quasi-supernatural beings and dispatching them back to their Ether World domain, would benefit Maeven’s precarious condition in some way.

*Scene 06* – 00:00 (Scene Title)

*Scene 07* – 00:00 (The Purpose of The Pearl)

Will appeared to be clear of the silvered blood, except for his ankle which hobbled him in pain.  From what I could gather, this was how the scenario had played out.  Will was unsuccessful in killing the Moon Sprite and only succeeded in causing it to escape from the ice pocket holding it and crawl out onto the surface.  Will went after it, was wounded in the attempt, but still managed to wound the Moon Sprite as well.  His spear lodged into the tail flank of the Moon Sprite as it slid and slithered in a side to side motion across the ice, headed toward the frozen waterfalls.  Silver blood-smeared and flowed from its wound and Will stepped and slid in it while attempting to pursue the creature.  The tether that allowed the spear-thrower to pull the spear back, pulled him off his feet and dragged him after the creature in flight.  The substance got on his shoes and splashed onto an exposed ankle causing him to fall and writhe and wretch in pain, such that he could not walk or focus on anything else.  From the circular grooves surrounding Will, I surmised that the giant Pearl moved around him, attempting to alleviate Will’s pain, but either Will was oblivious to it, or distrustful of its intent, refusing to allow it to get near him while he curled around his pain, moaning and weeping in agony.  Only when he had passed out, was the Pearl able to move in and draw the silver off of his cloak, as we had witnessed upon our arrival.

With the realization of what the Pearl was effectively doing as it pertained to the fire born creatures, there was only one other application that I could think of relating to the Pearl that might make the difference for Maeven.  But we were at the mercy of the intentions driving the Pearls actions.  We had to follow the Pearl and allow it to complete its purposes, before we could retrieve it again and bring it to service Maeven’s wounds.

The Pearl oscillated nearby, clearly waiting for some development with Will’s condition, before it moved ahead to pursue the remaining Moon Sprite into the log fog leading up to the frozen falls in the distance.

“We’re going to have to hold him down, Mason.”

“What do you mean?”

“We need to let the Pearl take the remaining silver blood from his ankle, but Will may fight us.”

Mason knelt down, and I joined him in a crouch.

The Pearl had cleared the smeared silver from the ground and we were able to approach Will without the possibility of getting more of that stinging silver on us.

“He’s not gonna know what we’re doing if he comes to.  He’ll try to fight us, thinking we are the Moon Sprite.”

Mason nodded, “I’ll get a good grip on him.  Let’s do this.”

So, effectively, we pounced on Will.  And, as predicted, he came to, bucking and thrashing at us in blind panic.  We pinned his arms, and Mason struggled to keep his legs from kicking until finally he was forced to throw his body weight upon him and stun and wind him for a moment.

Will’s legs went rigid for about a half-second and the Pearl raced forward into that space of time and bounced against his exposed ankle like a silver ball to a bumper in a classic pinball machine.  A sleeve of silver seemed to peel away from the ankle, with threads of silver trailing.  Evidently more of the blood had moved up within his pants leg as he lay thrashing about in the wake of the Moon Sprite.  Angry red welts were left by the peeling away, but I knew in time they would heal.  The silver blood resolved itself into the pearl’s shimmering surface, winding the streaming strands like twine into a growing ball.  Will would be alright, so Mason and I pulled back and rolled off of Will, allowing him to breathe and recover, while we continued our pursuit of the Moon Sprite.

Already the Pearl was rolling away from us, seeming to meander from the left to the right, but tracing the side to side trail of silver on the bloody trail of the Moon Sprite.

Mason picked up his bow, notched an arrow and I snatched up Will’s fallen spear now cleansed of the silver blood.

I wound the drawback tethers between my knuckles, knowing that these might be necessary if a short throw or jab missed its mark.  The hard-edged fin on the bull Moon Sprite had effectively deflected and blocked James’ attempts to face off with the beast using his halberd, and I had no illusions that this cow with both fins freed, now that she was on the surface of the ice, might just as easily thwart my attempts to get in a good piercing shot through its thick hide.

As the frost, chill, and wind coming off the lake was still very cold and growing colder, we knew we both had to keep our legs moving to stay warm.  We headed forward into the mist, seeing the great icy teeth of the falls just ahead, and a cleft opening within the ice curtains showing the cave opening beyond it.

Maeven had said the caverns behind the waterfall had been sealed off years ago, but the gap ahead of us, between the ice daggers, offered us a way inside them that was not possible before.

I also knew, if the Pearl were to leave the surface of the Trathorn Basin lake, that brief doorway would close again in an instant under the force of thousands of pounds of falling ice and water.  We had to be quick or Will, Maeven, Christie, Dominic, James, and Matthew would find themselves suddenly out in the middle of a frosty lake of melting ice and might drown before they could reach the shore.  Mason and I felt compelled to investigate.  I believed Will should be alright here for a few minutes more, and we would come back for his shortly.  He’d been through an ordeal, but since the Pearl had cleared him of the Moon Sprite blood, he would be sore when he woke up and perhaps needed what few more minutes of rest could be afforded him.

We loped and shuffled forward, the mists and fog growing thicker around our feet.  Mason kept pace with me, but allowed me to move slightly ahead of him, as he was growing more and more uneasy as the fog grew increasingly dense.  It appeared as if we were wading through a sea of clouds and I almost remarked upon it to help distract Mason from his increasing dread that we might step blindly into a break in the ice and fall through.  Only the urgency of Maeven’s declining condition and the sense of time rapidly sifting away compelled me to move forward as quickly as we were without as much caution as I should have had.

Ahead, just a few feet shy of the edge of the jagged teeth of the Falls, the white and silver humpback of the fifth Moon Sprite islanded out of the fog with a silver gash that sparkled in the bluish light.  We heard the sound of wet slapping and a sort of barking, gagging noise that sounded odd, as the hump undulated through the smoky sea.  The grit of ice flakes made crunching sounds under our feet as we shuffle walked forward towards the heaving silverback, but we suddenly noticed a new and disturbing mix of sounds beyond the noise of our footfalls.  Ss-ss, Ss-ss, SS-ss noises, all in succession, like that of a bow saw, pulled and thrust across an ice log.

When next the Moon Sprite rose, we caught sight of its strobing eyes, flashing like an emergency beacon, sending flashes of light into the low fog, and back-lighting the writhing, shadowy tumble of dozens of young, serpentine Moon Sprites flopping and slithering across the frozen surface, headed our way.  The strobing flashes of light were diminishing in intensity, and the cow Moon Sprite’s head was devoid of its unique living crown of hair.