The Forest, by Ben Greenfield - Chapter 18: "Wisp"

Bone broth, bone broth. Terran's entire face nearly fell into the wide cup of simmering broth before him. He could still feel his teeth chattering from a night and morning spent at sea in a leaky wooden boat. His skin was wet and clammy and cold from his damp clothes. His eyelids were lazy and drooped, his hair caked with salt and his shirt torn and half ripped off his torso, but his cracked lips somehow still found their way to the hot nourishing broth and soft chewy fish bones. Tart lemon, tangy vinegar, pearl barley, onions, carrots, red currants, salt, black pepper, thyme. It all filled his taste buds at once and it was pure, warm, savory bliss compared to the slimy catawan soup and the cold seafarer porridge. He was sitting in a small dark room on a rickety wooden chair near a window that looked out over the Port of Gawald, over the lowing of the cattle, the gruff shouting of sailors, and the clattering of hooves and footsteps over cobblestones. He could hear the hum of the Oce. Or perhaps he was simply hearing the ocean still in his ears from 10 hours spent drifting to shore in a beat up dinghy, huddling, shaking and shivering under a pile of stolen clothing, lying atop the blue, nearly lifeless body of his brother.

Next to him, river laid on a dirty blanket draped over a cot in front of the window, his body strategically placed to soak up the precious few rays of sunshine bleeding through the glass, save a scrap of towel wrapped around his waist. Ripped. River was naked. Tiny, barely visible needles protruded from his big toe, the bottom of his knees, the outside of his hips, the outer rim of his belly button, his chest, his collarbone, the inside of his wrist, the outer tops of both his cheeks and the crown of his head. Terran shifted his chair, squeaking as he reached towards his brother, stroking the outside of River's cheek with the back of his hand. The skin felt a little warmer, looked less whitish blue. A low gentle whisper came from the center of the room behind Terran.

Spleen, stomach, liver, kidney, blood.

They're all weak and cold.

Careful, my boy.

Pester the needles and you'll pester his organs.

Terran cautiously pulled his hand back, turned and looked towards the voice. Hunched over a square wooden table behind him was an old woman. She lowered her puffy eyebrows, ran her hands through her giant mushroom of tangled gray hair, and pointed a long crooked finger towards river, speaking with a coarse sing song accent, that one when you.

Came dragging him in.

She softened her voice even more and wiped away a wild string of drool from her cherry red lips.

I figured him to be a dead un for certain.

Terran didn't think this was funny, but the old woman cracked a wide, toothless grin, chuckled, and shifted back in her chair. Behind her was a counter with a stovetop where a vat of this broth was simmering over the fire. Above the pot of broth and hanging from a thin scaffolding of the wooden poles was a miniature forest of drying plants, herbs, and roots, some of them already stored in paper bags, each bag etched with rough scrawling for identification. Below the herbs, row after row of small dark brown bottles were laid neatly on the counter next to the stove, each with tiny intricate labels illuminated by a scattering of short, beautiful beeswax candles that littered the otherwise dark room and countertop.

Sitting across from Wisp at the wooden table was Tink. Wet, tired, beaten Tink, who once again wearing his precious green cloak, looked none the worse after being wrapped by the tentacles of a sea monster and spending a night rowing at sea. He too was sipping broth and looked up with a mysterious smile.

My dear Wisp, I have a hunch it will take more than a battle with the sea monster to kill this.

One, but it may take more than.

Bone, broth, and needles to bring him.

Back to full strength.

What other tricks does my rogue healer.

Have up her sleeve? Wisp stroked her wrinkled chin, leaned forward, placed both hands on her knees, and grunted as she stood, both knees creaking as she began to hobble towards the back of the room. She reached for the dark shelf below the rows of brown bottles and slid a thick book out from the shadows. For a moment she held it in her quivering hands, hesitated, then puffed gently on the COVID blowing a thin layer of dust away.

If I didn't know you any better, I'd think your tale of this young un single handedly fighting off a sea monster was just that, a tall tale.

Her hands continued to shake as she set the book down on the table.

It's been many a handful of years.

Since I've heard tell of the use.

Of an element, and handfuls more since.

I have heard anyone speak of portans and portals. You awaken ancient magic, my troublemakin, Tink.

She opened the book, licked her dry fingers, and began to thumb through the pages. The paper was nut brown, worn, stained, but intricately etched with row after row of elegant scripts and sketches.

I must refresh my old memory, you see. Use of elemental power shifts heat from the core chills precious lifeblood and dispatches energy from the organs of the user, the elsewhere, into the environment.

Her voice became louder, filled with authority, as though she was remembering an old friend.

One's body can become quite cold, pallid, and bloodless. And so we must warm that body. We must return energy from the soil, the air, the water, the invisible particles back into the body.

Tink smiled.

My dear Wisp, I'll never understand why you don't heal at the royal court rather than receiving pittance for servicing sailors with brown paper bags full of dirty roots.

He looked at River.

I assume sitting one next to a warm window stuck full of needles doesn't quite do the trick.

Wisp chuckled again.

The fire inside is not warmed by the fire outside. The needles will begin to awaken the sluggish energy in his body, but we must stoke the sparks of that energy with spices and herbs that warm the blood.

Her finger landed on a page of the book and she brought her face close to the paper. Scrunching her nose and squinting, she mumbled, looked up towards the hanging paper bags and plants overhead, then back to her book. Yes, yes, yes. She wandered to the overhead garden, her red wrinkled nose thrust towards the ceiling as she reached up and pecked at objects with her long, wrinkled fingers. A root, a dried clump of herbs, a handful of cloves. She tossed everything on the countertop, then slid three brown bottles over to this pile.

Basil, cardamom, cinnamon, clove, fennel, ginger, mustard seed, nutmeg, oregano, pepper, and thyme. All these will warm the blood. We shall heat em, simmer em, boil em, concentrate em.

And she turned and looked at Rivers chilled body still laying by the window.

Get him down this poor boy's throat.

As Wisp began shuffling about the candlelit kitchen, tossing her bounty into the pot of simmering broth dust, Tink stood and walked to the window beside Terran. He put his hand on Terran's shoulder and bent over to peer out into the port.

Any news from the battle?

Wisp's voice came sounding from the kitchen.

A hundred miles, Tink. A hundred miles from Castelia. From here, the royal city.

Terran felt Tink's grip tighten on his shoulder. Wisp continued grumbling.

They've taken the forest that lies east of Castelia, haunting the trees and hiding in the caves, spreading their filth and poison through the roots, the air, the water.

Terran watched Tink's busy eyes, surveying, scanning, squinting at the port. Even the elf's ears seemed to be twitching with alertness.

Are the Citizens still loyal.

A loud sigh from the kitchen.

They have eyes everywhere. Spies. It saddens my heart that a paltry loaf of Balanga and the mere promise.

Of gold will turn a staunch Geweldian.

Into a backstabbing traitor.

Terran turned to watch Wisp ladle a small spoonful of broth into a bowl and begin tottering towards them.

There are even a watch in the port. Should they cut off food to the royal city of Castilia. And they destroy the crops. And they haunt the royal forest east of Goeld. We still have the Charbidian sea, but if they take the sea wall.

Her voice faded as she set the soup down on the floor, then bent over river and began twisting and tugging at the needles in his body. Each time she pulled a needle out, Terran winced, expecting river to cry out in pain. But river simply lay there, color slowly returning to his face, the rays of the sun still streaming through the window onto his naked body as Wisp worked from River's feet up towards his head, inspecting each needle. Then, giving a twirl and a tug, she continued to talk.

Tell me, Tink, what is your plan? Why are you doing this?

Tink was quiet. Then he spoke, and Terran recognized his quiet, haunting melody after just a few words.

Atop the Arktan's lonely peaks, where pine.

And furze lay bare, when Cithran swarms unleash their scream.

Sure weapons you'll find there.

Wisp paused. Her hand trembled and she stopped pulling the needles.

The order of Ka', ld, ancient defenders of our city, masters of the old magic.

Her hand stilled for a moment, and she sighed as she reached towards River's wrist and pulled another needle.

I wish they were still with us.

That they had not been scattered throughout.

Our world of Arbore, that their blood.

Had not been diluted with that of.

The common man, that their secrets had not been thrust into the deep haunts of the royal Library.

Tink nodded.

Sinew and steel will never defeat the powerful magic the shaman used to harness the Cithrin. Sword and spear and burning arrows cannot stop the power they use to quench our fire with their cold energy. To control the elements, to poison the water, to poison the earth, to poison the air. The order could have stopped them.

The room seemed to grow cold as Tink spoke. Terran watched the candles dancing, flickering and fading in the kitchen as Tink continued.

We must fight magic with magic. We must fight energy with energy. The shaman use old magic to harness the Cithrin. We shall use young magic, resembling the order to scatter their forces.

His hand was still on Terran's shoulder and he squeezed again.

Earth.

Wisp plucked another needle from River's chest and Tink spoke again, more loudly.

Water.

Wisp frowned.

You get ahead of yourself, Tink.

You neglect to mention there are four elements, not but two.

Her voice strained as she stood, knees and elbows popping. The sun had long left her hair and gray had invaded, but Taran could see the rays of sunshine from through the window, illuminating a woman who had once been strong, noble, beautiful, now old eyes squinting under scraggy, bushy eyebrows. Her voice quavered as she shuffled back towards the kitchen.

Four elements Earth, water, air, and fire.

She dropped the needles one by one into a small cup on the counter of the kitchen and began to stir the broth again.

Earth is cool, stable, heavy, dry, rough, large, dense, plain and hard. Earth beings love the physical, the vulgar, and of course, laughter. They're trustworthy, patient, and loyal, but they can be stubborn and bullheaded too. Energy from the Earth enters an Earth being's body through foods of the dirt and the bounty of animals, grains, nuts, beans, fruit, vegetables, milk, and meats. Those strong in Earth have them hardy appetites, thick skin, sturdy nails, dense muscles, and coarse hair.

As she spoke, Terran couldn't help but touch the fingernails on his left hand, then run his fingers through his hair. Hard, dry. His stomach growled, hungry.

When Earth's energies become drained, one's body structure becomes quite weak. Bones become brittle, muscle and fat wastes away. Ice and cold settles into the marrow. One becomes unable to stand up against the challenges of the world and is easily pushed aside by stronger forces.

Stirring complete, Wisp wandered back towards the window, adjusting her dirt brown robe, and sat on the cot near river, stroking his hair.

Like Earth, water is also cool, stable, heavy, but also moist, smooth, flowing, cloudy and soft. Water beings are brooding, mysterious, silent and secretive, dark and depressed.

She took a small spoon of broth, tipped River's chin back slightly, and let the broth seep between his lips and into his mouth.

But also compassionate, caring, good listeners. If the energy of water is exhausted, digestive fire becomes weak. Then blood settles in the core of the body to bring the fire back. The lips and eyes become dry and the skin, head, arms, and legs become cold as a mountain stream. Just like this fella.

Taryn watched the front of River's neck bob up and down in a conscious swallowing motion as Wisp dipped her spoon into the broth again. He cleared his throat.

What about air?

Wisp smiled.

Air. My boy is mobile. Cool, light, flowin but like a cold wind, can be sharp, clear and hard. Air beings are quiet but excitable, studious and bookish, but clever and entertaining when need be. Their minds can be scattered like seeds in the wind, so they must learn to focus. And when the element of air energy becomes drained, the joints become frozen, movements become impossible, tissue and sinews die.

She turned, blew lightly on Terran's face and smiled.

The lightness of air balances the heaviness of earth.

Terran inhaled deeply as the aroma of Wisp's warm breath filled his nostrils. It smelled like sweet almonds. He smiled.

Are you air?

Wisp clicked her tongue and shook her head.

Ah. Only very few beings control the concentrated power of one single element. Most of us are a mingled mess of elements. But yes, you could say I've got a good bit of air in me.

She fed river again. Again he swallowed. His cheeks were beginning to look pink.

And finally we have fire. Hot light, dry flowin, and sometimes clear and soft. Fire beings light up a room with their burnin presence, their passion, their lust, their unbridled desire. They're hot tempered, violent, lustful, obsessive, impulsive. And if these forces are used for good, great warriors, leaders, kings and queens. If fire energy is drained, the heat of the mind slows, thought becomes diffic, confusion ensues. But if the element of fire is harnessed, the energy can be fierce, near unstoppable.

Another spoonful of broth. More color in the cheeks. River's eyelids fluttered. Wisp smiled, stooped down and handed the bowl of broth to Taran.

Here, feed your brother.

She slowly straightened her back, creaking, and walked towards the kitchen.

Each soul, while it is in the body, is weighted, mastered, controlled and constricted by these four elements of all living things. Some are filled strong with earth, some with water, some with air, some with.

Fire, and some with two or three.

Of these, but very few with all. But as the Order of Ga' Wild discovered, one can become particularly strong in a single element. And if that energy can be harnessed.

Tink interrupted, then comes great destruction.

Or great good. You know, Wisp, that as a humble inventor, this is not my area of expertise. But I do know this for a fact.

The Order of Goeld understood how to.

Harness each element, how to concentrate an element's power into a single living being and use it, when necessary, as a powerful force. In doing so, they created formidable weapons and great warriors who protected the royal city of Castilia for thousands of years.

Wisp filled another bowl of broth and began back towards the window.

The Order used earth, water, air and fire. And so Tink, to battle magic with magic, you need more than just two weapons. More than just two elements. You're needing four. And you must also teach these young UN's how not to bring themselves to the brink of an icy death with their use of elemental magic.

Terran stirred the broth then, trying not to spill from the shallow spoon, guided it towards River's mouth. The spoon easily slipped between River's lips and Terran smiled as he watched the nourishment disappear from the spoon and into his brother's body. He glanced at Tink, whose brow was furrowed deep in thought. The elf was muttering quietly.

Four elements.

Yes, yes.

Too much of a mystery for me. Too much, too much. We must bring the boys to the Master Librarian.

He will know.

He has the ancient texts, the histories of the Order of Goao. The knowledge to harness the elements.

Tink slammed his left fist into his open right hand.

Wisp, we must go to the Crown's court.

I feel it.

I sense it.

We need more answers.

More direction.

Wisp arrived back at the cot, a new piping hot bowl of broth in her cupped hands.

Patience, Tink. This boy is going nowhere yet.

She handed the bowl to Taryn.

Here, give him this.

It's more potent.

After a time of simmering, Terran set.

The other bowl down and dipped the spoon into this fresh broth. Wisp leaned towards him and whispered, a.

Good broth will raise the dead.

She stood and watched as Taran carefully held a full spoon up to rivers lips. Then another. And another. Long minutes passed. The broth was gone. Wisp sat at the edge of the cot and stared out the window into the port. Tink muttered and paced. Terran watched river and waited.