“But I’m not a god. I don’t know what gods talk about,” she remonstrated. He laughed at that, and she couldn’t help smiling shyly at his delight.
“Inga, I don’t know what gods talk about either. But I’m sure it’ll be less interesting then the things you say. Come on, let’s get this flower for your sister.”
He began to stride down the slope without waiting to see if she’d follow.
“Flower?” Inga queried as she slipped down after him.
She eventually caught up on the edge of the glade. He was waiting for her and as she stopped, he spoke.
“This is camomile. It’s good for soothing inflammation. You can seep it in water and then drink the tonic or bathe in it. It’s a useful plant. Do you use it?”
Inga shook her head. “I don’t know. Mutta might. But I’ve never heard of it or been asked to gather it.”
He bent down and picked one, then held it up for her to smell. “Yuck.” was Inga’s initial response. He chuckled at that and picked some more, then he took the bag from her and quickly began filling it with the small white and yellow flowers.
“What will I say to Mutta and Mama?” she asked suddenly.
He stopped and thought about it. “You can either tell them the truth that I told you. Or…” She waited as he thought more fully and she really hoped that whatever he came up with sounded better. He grinned, then swivelled around to look at her. “You could tell them that you fell asleep and in a dream a god came to you and told you about the properties of the flower.”
Inga’s face fell. “They won’t believe that. That’s stupid.” She was amazed when he chuckled and looked away and went back to picking.
“You may be surprised to know, Inga, that where I’m from it’s exactly the sort of thing people believe. They go to the temple of the god and he visits them when they sleep and either heals them or tells them what medicine they need. In the morning the god’s priests listen and treat the person as the god has told them to. Some are even completely cured.”
Inga was outraged. “That’s stupid. It’s obviously the priests pretending to be gods. The people believe the god will come to them and so they dream he does. That or they drug them.”
Goodman smiled at that. “Nothing gets past you, does it? You’re right, that is probably what happens. But many people believe it. The Romans believe it as well.”
“We’re German and I bet we don’t,” she retorted but she could see the amused glint in his eyes and the traces of another smile playing on his lips, but he nodded, conceding the point.
“No, strangely the Germans don’t worship this god. You’ll have to tell the truth then, Inga.” He raised his eyebrows and made a face, so that she knew he understood that it wasn’t going to be easy for her.
He walked a few steps then hunched down to continue.
“How do you know about herbs?” she asked peering down at him as he picked more of the smelly flowers for her.
“I heal people when I’m at home,” he replied.
“But you’re a hunter?”
He stopped and looked up at her. “I hunt for food, as all people do and I’m good at it, so I pass on what I don’t need. But I heal people through choice, I hunt for necessity.”
“So you’re a god of healing not hunting?” Inga needed the clarification. But he ignored her question.
“Here, that‘ll be enough.” He stood and offered her the bag. “It’s getting late, you’d better get back. Steep them in water and then let your sister drink it. Also wet a cloth with the water and wash her whole body. It should help.”
She took the bag and looked inside it. “Thank you.” She sniffed, grimaced, and then asked anxiously, “Does it taste as bad as it smells?”
“I assure you that it tastes better.” He smiled. “Go on, Inga, I hope it helps.”
She was reluctant to leave though; there were still so many questions she wanted to ask, so many things she wanted to know. “Will I see you again?”
“You know where I am, Inga. If I’m not there then wait, I’ll find you.” She nodded and smiled awkwardly then grudgingly turned around and trotted across the glade towards home.
***
Mutta watched Helda as she finally drifted into a peaceful sleep. Next to her daughter, Sabine was also sleeping. Only Inga was awake and watching her with wide fearful eyes.
What should she make of Inga? She’d always dismissed the child as ordinary. The girl was intelligent and had a good eye for gathering, but there was nothing extraordinary about her until you came to Goodman. For some reason she seemed to have a link with the god. If he was a god at all. Though now he was claiming to be a healer and not a hunter. Significantly, when Inga had asked for clarification if he was a god of healing, he hadn’t answered. If he wasn’t a god then what was he? She had had her suspicions, but if he was what she thought he could be, then surely there would have been more deaths by now? She’d put it off for too long, it was time to confront this god.
The plant certainly seemed to be effective. It was just another summer plant that she’d ignored and dismissed having no particular properties. But Goodman was familiar with it and knew what to use it for. He’d even asked about the rash. That was telling, it proved that he knew something about healing. But why Inga? What did this girl have that she and others didn’t? Maybe she’d missed something right in front of her nose about the girl, just as she’d missed the properties of the flower?
She’d watch Inga. She was due to be engaged soon. Gert, her father, was taking offers that would lead to negotiations and then a betrothal. She’d definitely keep her eyes on how things unfolded.
“Go to sleep, child,” she told the pair of eyes glinting in the dark at her.
“Are you cross?” Inga whispered.
Mutta smiled and shook her head. “How can I be cross when you’ve brought us this herb that’s eased your sister’s suffering?”
“He wants to help,” Inga assured her.
“You can tell him tomorrow that he has. Now go to sleep.” Inga nodded and settled back down on her bedding.
Later that night Mutta woke. She hadn’t meant to sleep, but must have drifted off whilst watching Helda. For a moment she gathered her thoughts to recollect where she was and tried to work out why she’d woken. She strained her ears in the darkness to listen, but when the sound came it was close and loud. Surprised, she sat up.
The noise was coming from Inga; she was speaking, but not in words that Mutta recognised. They were obviously in a different language, as some of the sounds were quite clear and certainly not German. She was saying a name and laughing. Painfully Mutta got up from her makeshift bed and despite the stiffness in her hips and back, she hobbled quietly over to the sleeping girl.
For a moment she watched as the emotions played across the young girl’s face. She was happy, that much was obvious. This was a good dream. But speaking in another language wasn’t normal, it clearly meant something else, usually memories that should’ve been wiped at birth. Maybe if the girl had these memories hidden away this could explain why Goodman was drawn to her? Maybe he could see beyond the ordinary child and discern the potential within.
“Inga! Inga, wake up. Where are you, child?” Mutta carefully stroked her forehead and hair and then the space above her head, momentarily breaking any contact with the spirit world.
Inga’s eye’s flickered open, then widened in horror when she saw who was watching over her.
“Shush, it’s all right. You’re awake. Where were you, Inga?”
Inga struggled to sit up, clearly embarrassed. “It was just a dream,” she said quietly.
“Yes, I know. Was it a good one?” Mutta asked cautiously. She had to be careful with Inga, the girl had clammed up in the past and only admitted things when she was sure that she wouldn’t be in trouble.
Inga nodded. So Mutta continued. “Do you know where you were in your dream?”
“No, but it was sunny and hot. I’ve had it
before, sometimes it’s night time, but it’s always warmer than here.”
“Do you know the name of the place?” Mutta asked.
Inga shook her head. “No names or words, just feelings.”
Mutta nodded. Not yet anyway, she thought. “So you’ve had this dream before?”
Inga nodded. Mutta smiled to reassure the girl. “That s good, child, there’s nothing to be frightened of. We all dream. Go back to sleep. I was just curious. You’re lucky to have such nice dreams.” Inga settled back down and closed her eyes. Mutta stood stiffly and made her way quietly across the bracken floor. It was time to meet this Goodman.
***
It was nearly full moon, so the pathway was quite clear, but there was definitely a nip in the air. Mutta pulled her cloak firmly around her as she walked painfully up the slope under the budding beech trees. She was going to speak to this creature. She’d left it alone for as long as she could, but now he’d actually spoken with one of her villagers she had to investigate, in order to discover what manner of creature she was dealing with and to ascertain if her people, and especially Inga, were in any danger.
The old leaves crackled and rustled as she hobbled her way steadily but painfully towards the bottom of the sacred hill. Her hips had been plaguing her for years, causing her to shuffle slowly thanks to the pain, and now the sound of her progress echoed out in the still of the night and it left her in no doubt that he’d hear her coming.
In the distance a wolf howled and she paused for a moment. The sound was far away and it was soon answered by another. It was spring; everything was waking up and thinking of the coming year, not just the plants. She’d given up that sort life years ago when she’d been chosen to train as a village wise woman; it wasn’t compulsory, but she’d chosen to dedicate her life to her people, rather than have her own family.
At the bottom of the mountain, she stopped and stood before the boulders. Nervously, she scanned the darkness of the trees above her. Something inside told her that he was already waiting, just beyond her vision. Surely he’d be expecting this? He’d told Inga that when young he’d known a herb woman, so he’d understand why she was coming out here tonight. Mothers of the village didn’t just heal, they took their responsibilities very seriously and the welfare and protection of everyone in the community were their concern. She’d be remiss if she didn’t come looking for answers tonight.
“Goodman, hunter, healer and feeder of our village. I do call you to come into my presence so that I may know you better.” She opened up her arms in entreaty and waited.
A few heartbeats passed, and then a few more. Still there was no response. She dropped her arms feeling foolish. Maybe he was away hunting? Then she heard a soft, swirling noise, as if someone light-footed was moving through the dead leaves.
Mutta peered into the darkness of the shadows above her. Gradually, she was able to discern a light. Her heart sank when she realised that it was an aura of white light which was emitted by the human form coming towards her. Her initial question was answered before she’d even met him. This was no god, it was a seizer, or a white hunter. She’d expected as much, which was why she’d brought her spike with her. Carefully she found its firm metal coolness and slipped it from inside her cloak so it was ready if she needed to use it.
He stopped a few metres from her. Even with her weak eyes she could see that he was as attractive and beguiling as she’d been warned they would be. He knew what she was and she knew that he knew. At least there was honesty between them, a genuine respect of the other’s skill. She wasn’t surprised when he smiled charmingly at her. That was part of their enchantment, their beauty and grace. It was all part of the trap, to draw you in, make you feel at your ease and then strike.
“You didn’t have to summon me, Mutta. You knew that I wasn’t a god and I‘d have come if you’d asked.” He smiled again and began to walk towards her slowly, his eyes not leaving her own.
He was handsome, there was no doubt about that. Not a local man, or hadn’t been. His colouring was southern, the skin darker then the German colouring, his hair and eyes were brown and in this light, black. Possibly he’d been Roman, but he wasn’t now. He was a typical hunter down to his extra height, strong build and the smoothness in his movement. Even his face and skin clearly showed the changes wrought by the merging of the two souls. Smooth blemish-free skin and perfectly symmetrical features made him striking, but she was trained to see past the façade to the truth inside. If she looked, she’d see the cruel set to the mouth, the coldness in the glint of the eye and arrogance in the gaze.
“Is the child easier?” he asked suddenly. Stopping short of the boundary and her range with the spike. Mutta balked. For a moment the languid arrogance had faltered and genuine concern had slipped into his voice.
She had to answer, it was an honest question, but she had to be on her guard. This was her first seizer. She’d been told about them and trained to see and kill them, but she’d never met one before, nor had the woman who’d trained her. In this isolated community, it was expected that she never would.
“Yes, thank you. She’s sleeping. Inga says you call the plant camomile and it reduces inflammation. Can we use it for other things?”
He nodded. “You can make a drink from it and wash in it, as well using it to reduce inflammation. It can also help you to sleep. It’s a slightly different plant to the one that grows in the south, but I’m sure that they have the same properties. I’m glad that she’s sleeping. Sleep and rest can cure as well.”
Mutta nodded. “Why are you helping us? Why is a creature like you helping feed a village and cure its young? Are you saving us for your sport, so you can pick us off one by one? Because if you are…”
He cut her off before she could finish. “I’m not. I assure you. I know you have a spike, I can read colours as well. I have no intention of hurting you, unless you attack me, then I will defend myself. I have no choice because I can’t let you kill me.”
“Why not?” She considered before he could answer. “No, I know why not. You’d be sent back to hell where you came from.”
He smiled softly then, and Mutta was struck again how different he was from how she had imagined seizers to be. “Maybe I should explain a little about myself to you, so that you understand me better.” He waited for her to nod then he spoke again. “I was a man once, a happily married shepherd, then one day, a hunter came to our village. I was her prey and she left me unfinished and still clinging to life. Thankfully for me my Mutta, or Uma, as we called her, was skilled, she saved me and then ensured that our village was safe and protected from any further visits. For several months we all believed that the threat was gone, then unexpectedly the hunter returned. She’d liked my taste, and she wanted more. She made a mockery of Uma’s protections and found me again. This time, I clung on refusing to let her drain my life from my body.
“I had too much to live for, you see, but that was my downfall. She enjoyed the challenge and my spirit, she decided that I would be her new companion, so she drained most of the shepherd out of my body and took me to hell and let the dammed fight over the skin and what was left.
“A mercenary won that fight and over the years the shepherd and the mercenary merged together. That is who I am now. Not one or the other but both. And they’ll only be separated when I’m severed and both are sent to hell.”
Mutta felt his sorrow as he told her the story and she knew it was genuine. Her training told her to look at the aura surrounding a person when they conversed with her, so instinctively that was what she’d done with this creature. She could see that closer to his body colours played and radiated out into the white of his hunter’s light. They were tinged with bright green and gold, the hues associated with curing, as well as small amounts of a light blue. All good strong shades she’d normally associate with a fellow herbalist or healer. This was definitely not the aura of the hunters she’d heard about. In fact somewhere in the depths of her memory, it was poss
ible that she’d heard about seizers like this, ones who tried to help others and used their powers to help.
He was waiting for a response from her, but she’d been distracted by the colours playing so close to his merged body. “I can see that you have colours like a human around you. The shepherd that you once were was a good man.” She stopped and considered him for a moment. “Is that why you’re helping us?”
He nodded, still not coming any closer. “Redemption, Mutta. The shepherd doesn’t deserve to go to hell and the mercenary doesn’t want to go back either. The only way for me to avoid that fate is to keep out of the way of people like you and try to live a good life so that when my souls are weighed, they’re found to be worthy and deserving of rebirth.”
She understood. “So you heal people?” He nodded and Mutta felt herself despite her training responding to his gentle manner and sincerity. If she was younger and foolish she’d definitely be attracted to such a creature.
“When I can. By chance I saw a man stab someone in front of me. I could only watch as the man bled to death, then the idea came that if I could take life, maybe I could pass it on. To my surprise it worked and he stopped bleeding. After that I was determined to take only the lives of those who endanger others and to train as a physic, so as not to draw attention to myself with miraculous cures.”
She nodded, believing the sincerity of his tale. “But why Inga? Why settle here? I understand what you hope to achieve, but why aren’t all of you like this?”
For a moment he looked away into the darkness and seemed to be listening to something. When he turned back, his eyes were guarded for the first time since they had begun their conversation.
“I won’t deliberately hurt Inga. You have my word. I won’t feed from her, or attempt to merge her. She’ll be safe with me. As to the rest, they have the same choice as I do, and some do attempt to help mortals, seeking their own redemption. But most…” He shrugged. “Most enjoy their life and don’t think of tomorrow.”
He was being careful now, she could see it in his colours. He was omitting something, but she didn’t think that it was anything dangerous. “And so why here?”
Their eyes locked for a few moments and in those heartbeats Mutta gripped the spike firmly. All charm and amity fell away and she was clearly reminded that he was a seizer, he could spring and paralyse her before she could react and then drain her at his leisure. She mustn’t forget that when dealing with him, he was unpredictable and very dangerous. But she sincerely believed that he wouldn’t hurt Inga. Possibly not her either, but she didn’t want to take the risk.