Crossing The Line

As promised, today's the big reveal for Coetir: The People of the Wood! 

If you've been paying attention to my posts (*wink*) you'll have already read the teaser info, and you'll know how I was inspired to write this work, so we're just going to jump right in. 

I hope you enjoy this excerpt from one of my favorite works in progress... 

Chapter I

I used to watch them every weekend. Father would go out to work in the fields, and I was allowed to leave the house. Ever since I was a child, I would go out and watch them. I would sit on the very edge of the boundary line and peer through the trees, searching for the people of the wood.

I knew better than to take even a step beyond the boundary. Father had warned me of the dangers. The people of the wood were not to be trifled with. If they ever came near me, I was to leave. Mother didn’t even want me that close to them, but father overruled her. There was no harm in watching, he’d said.

I know why father wanted me there. He wanted me to see their rituals, hoping that I would learn to fear them. He started letting me go to watch them whenever I’d finished my chores, and so I would go almost every day. When the leaders of the colony saw how much I was fascinated with them, they even granted me a place at the perimeter—much to mother and father’s chagrin.

But the druids were the most beautiful beings I’d ever seen. In some ways, they looked like us, like humans, but in others they were almost too different to describe. Their bodies were humanoid, two legs, two arms, one head between two shoulders, and they wore pearlescent white clothes that turned brown near their bare feet and hands. They moved almost silently through the wood—I had never even heard their feet crunching on autumn leaves. In some ways, they were like the wood themselves. The hair that sprouted from their heads was like vines and brambles, and the females even had flowers growing within the strands. Their skin was light violet, but in the light of the setting sun it turned almost green, allowing them to vanish into the night.

It was all that I could see from the boundary line, but I knew that their eyes and faces were different, too. Though I couldn’t tell what it was, I knew they were not like the human faces I saw at home in the village.

            But one day while I was watching them, a male who looked no older than me was led close to the boundary between the trees and the fields. I hid in a blind I’d made so I could more easily watch them, and I held my breath as he was forced by the five older males to kneel.

            This was the first time that I was allowed to see any of them so closely, and I studied them as well as I could. I had watched them performing rituals before, but they’d never been so close to the boundary—and there was always a female present. There was one in particular, one who looked more important than all the others, who led the majority of the chanting rituals. Though I didn’t know what they were doing, I always wished that I could understand them.

            When they began to speak to each other, it was like nothing I had ever heard before. I had never been close enough to them to hear their voices.

            “Ydych chi'n siŵr?” one of the older males—the eldest of the group, I guessed—said. He took hold of one of the other male’s arms, and it was then that I noticed the blade in his hand.

            “Wrth gwrs,” the man with the knife replied. “Ef yw'r lladdwr y wrach.”

            “Ni all fod unrhyw ffordd arall,” one of the others added, taking the knife away from the one and placing it at the kneeling male’s throat.

            The kneeling man tilted his head back, and as far as I could tell, he was stoic about their apparent desire to kill him. I took the opportunity to take in his appearance. After all, what were the chances that I would ever see them so closely again?

The bridge of his nose had small slats in the sides, and it barely protruded off his face. His beady black eyes—no iris, no pupil, just small black eyes—stared straight toward my blind, and if I didn’t know any better I would’ve thought that he was looking at me. His pale violet lips were pursed, his hands and arms were relaxed at his sides—he seemed resigned to the fact that they would kill him. His skin was the most interesting thing of all. It was almost like tiny scales, as if he was part reptilian like my brother’s pet lizard, and it was changing shades, ever so slightly, from deeper to lighter violet.

“Ei wneud ar.” I wasn’t sure who said it. Once the words were spoken, the knife was pressed into the flesh of the kneeling male’s throat. I watched in horror as pale white blood began to trickle from his flesh, and I had to clamp my hand over my mouth to keep myself from shouting when the body simply vanished.

The five made their way back into the wood.

I stayed where I was.

There was a rule, in our people, that we could not enter the woods. For safety’s sake, most of us didn’t even approach the boundary. Generally, it was only the younger ones who dared to come close to the edge—aside from those who guarded it, of course. The treaty with the druids said that we would not enter their territory, their sacred grounds, and that they would not enter our villages. In return for this, they would not cast their spells on our lands.

My father had told me stories of a time before the treaty, when our people used to hunt in the woods. The druids had poisoned their water and caused locusts to destroy their fields. Most of us were still superstitious enough to believe that it could happen again—and most of us, as children, had watched the druids performing their rituals and learned that it was safer to leave them alone.

I was not one of those. I had been watching the people of the wood for almost two decades, and I never wanted to stop. I’d even been granted a position on the perimeter, because I was so fascinated with them. Of course, I had to prove myself even more than most of the others, for simple fact of being a woman. The men of the village have never trusted the women—and I always blamed the people of the wood. Those who run their rituals, who perform them and see everything out, are the females. From what I could tell, they held the most power in the clan. I was one of the few people brave enough to watch them and not look away—even when one might be looking straight at me.

But this business with the killing was unlike anything I’d ever seen before. For one thing, I had never seen the people of the wood kill one of their own. And I had never heard them speak so clearly—not that I could understand them. 

***

            Elim sighed as he watched the elders walking back from the crossroads. He didn’t know what they were thinking—everyone knew that the untouchables were watching, and they’d killed Marike anyway. He wondered if this meant the crossroads were opened. Sarit had been the one who carried down the line of those who’d created the treaty for the crossroads, and now she was dead. Without anyone to carry on her line, there was no way to tell what would happen. Marike had destroyed their very way of life by taking the witch. Without Sarit, the Coetir Dewin had no one to guide them.

            Elim sat atop a tree on the edge of the crossroads, looking down on one of the untouchables. She’d been watching while the elders had taken Marike and stolen his essence. He almost thought she would cry out when Marike’s essence was taken, but instead she simply cowered farther into her thicket of branches.

            It made him curious, in a way, to see the way she watched them. He’d never before been so close to the crossroads, or seen an untouchable this closely. She had light brown hair, and it looked soft, almost like the fur of an animal. Her eyes weren’t black, like his. They were light, white like fresh clouds and green like spring leaves. And her skin! It was unlike anything Elim had ever seen before. It was pale and smooth, but the color was different. She didn’t appear to have the tiny scales that covered his body, and she never changed colors—he would’ve thought that the fear would have caused it to change, like it did for the Coetir.

            If the laws had permitted it, he would’ve wanted to see her even closer—but there was no way. Even without Sarit, who’d carried on the lines and laws, it still wasn’t safe. The untouchables did not follow the Vartes—it was not safe to associate with them. Without the Vartes, their whole way of life would be gone. Even without Sarit, they would hold to the creator’s guidance.

            The Vartes would reveal the next witch. The creator always did—though generally there was linearity involved. But Sarit had no heir—she had never chosen a man to form an heir with.

            It was the first time this had ever happened in the history of the Dewin. Even among the Anialych, the Mynidd, and the Dŵr, it was unheard of. The Coetir were the first. The Coetir elders would be awakened, and would have to fast and consult the Vartes before their witch would be revealed. She would be chosen from those who had trained with the elders or with the witch, he guessed. But it would be a woman, chosen to train them in the ways of the Vartes, and she would define their future.

            He wondered if this was what Marike had intended.

            There was no reason in his mind to explain why this had happened. Sarit had been a good witch for the Coetir. She had taught them well. Marike had said as much on many occasions.

            Elim’s eyes widened as he watched the untouchable woman stand from behind her hiding place.

            She was slender, like the Coetir, but she was shorter than many of the adult Coetir. He wondered how she would compare to rest of the Dewin: the other druidic beings of the planet.

            Unthinkingly, he jumped down form the treetops, landing well inside the Coetir’s side of the crossroads. When he landed, his eyes looked straight into hers.

            Her jaw dropped, her blunt teeth now clearly in view, and she took a single step back. She made no sound, save her feet crunching on the leaves. He’d never heard that sound come from anything but an animal before.

            “Helo.” He didn’t know why he said it.

            As soon as she replied, he turned away. He didn’t listen as she spoke—but he stopped in his tracks when he felt her presence beyond the crossroads.

            At that moment, he knew that nothing would be the same.

            He turned his head toward her, and he watched as she crunched across the golden leaves, slowly making her way toward him.

            “Aros, os gwelwch yn dda,” he said. “Wait, please.”

            Her eyes said that she didn’t understand, but she did not speak. She only stared straight into his eyes, and slowly moved closer to him.

            Crunching echoed all around them, and he watched as her feet created the sound. Never in his life had he seen someone so similar to him and yet so very different, someone capable of making a sound when they stepped on the leaves.

            “Aros,” he said again. “Wait.”

            He should never have shown himself to her. He’d seen her curiosity, and he’d exploited it—all so that he could see her a little closer. Sarit would never have allowed this to happen. The witch had never even allowed them so close to the crossroads. It was only special circumstances that had allowed the elders to execute Marike there.

            This untouchable woman should never have been so close. She should never have been allowed to cross into their land, and she shouldn’t have been so close to him now. It wasn’t safe.

***

            I didn’t know what I was thinking. Seeing the man, so close to me, was like electricity. His purple skin lightened when his eyes met mine. His gaze shifted to my feet as I began to step closer.

            I couldn’t stop.

            I’d already crossed the safe zone, I was almost beyond the boundary. Coming so far, my feet refused to stop. They, along with the rest of my body, only wanted to see him a little closer.

            Reason had been abandoned—but perhaps that had happened years ago, when I began my fascination with the people of the wood.

            The man spoke to me, but I didn’t understand his words. I was so enamored with the sight before me that I wasn’t even sure he’d spoken until I saw his lips move.

            The only sound around us was the crunching of leaves beneath my feet. The rest had gone silent. As I moved closer to him, the birds were silent, there was no wind, there was only the crunching of the leaves.

            My arm reached toward him, and he flinched away—but it didn’t stop me. He looked as though he couldn’t even move. The look in his eyes betrayed his fear. I didn’t speak, because I had no words, but as I placed my fingers against the cold skin of his arm, we each drew in a sharp breath.

            The sounds of the wood immediately returned. Birds sang their songs, wind blew the leaves against each other. The man’s eyes looked right back into mine.

            “Go back,” he said. “Ewch yn ôl.”

            My brow furrowed. It was not lost on me that I hadn’t understood any of his people before.

            “You cannot be here.” “Ni allwch fod yma.” His eyes pled with mine, begging me to listen to him.

            “Yes.” It was all that I could think to say.

            I removed my fingers from his skin, and I ran. I don’t know what I was thinking. I only ran, and I didn’t look back.