Chương 10: Dryad

Of course, she ignored his instructions completely. At first she was driven by anger. Eoin didn't know everything. He'd admitted as much himself. She was unique. She spent hours furiously weaving fórsa into her body after he'd gone in a fit of enraged productivity. But she had to admit he was right about some things. The water she produced was dirty. She didn't know enough to see why that mattered, but if that was his big problem, then she'd show him what for by solving it without him.

For an hour or two she tried simply imagining the water to be pure, but that had no effect at all. Then, she tried moving her fórsa in a pattern around her hand that avoided the bones completely. That seemed to work at first, but the natural contaminants still showed up the second or third time. Frustrated by half the night having been wasted, she decided to change her focus. She could make water with her Water fórsa - what could she do with Life?

Simply swirling the fórsa around again just got her more dirty water. That was a Water manifestation, she decided. It moved like water cascading down a drain. Of course that was how it would manifest. If Water was movement, what was Life? Life was movement too, she thought. Singing was sound, and sound was vibration. That line of thinking led nowhere though - if Water and Life were the same, her Water manifestation wouldn't have only worked for her water fórsa. What made water strong? What made Life strong?

Half a mile from the Willow House there was a narrow ravine. If you dug up the ravine floor as she once had as a child - as had her children and theirs - you could find odd things. Fish bones, smooth rocks, flecks of gold here and there. She had asked her father how fish had gotten so deep into a crevasse as the ravine, but he had only laughed. Miriam had expected an outlandish tale - perhaps a tornado had drained a lake and carried the fish there.

But no - he had explained that many years ago, the ravine had been a river. In fact, it was the river itself that had cut the ravine into the stone.

"Water is nothing in only an instant," he told her.

"But it never gets tired. Let it run long enough and it could cut the world in half." Constancy. That is what Eoin said too - water is constant movement. It's the constant nature of water moving that gives it the power to diminish mountains. Miriam frowned. That made sense, but it didn't help. She was doing ok with water. She needed to understand Life. Well, in a sense… Life was the opposite of that. Life was by no means constant. It began, it grew, and then… it ended.

Was it because the song she was singing had been about death? She hadn't gotten the feeling that the content of the song was what mattered. In fact during her weaving she had changed to many different songs. Hold on. Could that be it? Life was change. A living thing never stayed the same. Notes in a song always changed - a one note song wouldn't be very interesting. Birth, growth, death - Life was an unceasing march through all of these states. If Water was movement without change, then Life might be… Hmm.

She tried a new pattern. fórsa danced between her fingers randomly, zipping from joint to joint until it launched to the ejection point on her palm… nothing. Maybe that wasn't the right pattern - life could be chaotic, but the nature of Life was orderly. She'd thought the change needed might be sudden changes from bone to bone, but that was just noise. Life was… progression. Miriam's eyes widened as she thought of a new pattern.

Starting with her little finger, she sent a whirling vortex of fórsa around the entire digit. Once it built up speed, she added the ring finger. Then the middle, the pointer. The thumb. Finally, as her fingers were whirling dervishes of barely contained fórsa she closed her hand, all her energy aimed at the central point in her palm. She let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding and opened her hand. There in her palm was a perfect little vine, with a tiny green leaf.

Two days later, nursing a headache from Solas's latest tragic tale and attempt at fórsa robbery, Miram rushed over to Eoin as soon as he blinked into existence.

"I'm sorry," she said, grabbing his hand.

"I didn't mean to insult you. You've helped me more than I can ever repay. I shouldn't have called your motives into question." Eoin seemed taken aback by her apology. He doffed his hat and it vanished. He looked her in the eyes and smiled. That smile was…something else.

"No need to apologize," he said.

"You just struck a nerve from… let's call them past traumas. I also need to offer my apologies. I saw your mixed path and I felt the carefully laid plan of mine to free you going down the drain. I did not consider that this is all new to you. You wouldn't know about the purity of water principle, or fórsa nature compatibility. You are a brilliant mind with nothing to do but experiment. What else should I have expected?"

Eoin leaped nimbly onto a worktable and sat crosslegged, sending gears and papers tumbling to the ground.

"We need to figure out how to purify your water. I spent last night talking to as many fórsa theorists as I could reach with my current conditions, which is a grand total of one. And he was drunk at the time, so not much help. But I do have some ideas…" Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. Eoin trailed off as Miriam cupped her hand tightly, creating a small bowl with her fingers. fórsa surged in the basement and she exhaled loudly.

"If you're thirsty," she said, showing him a small object. In her hand was a tiny cup made of tightly coiled vines, inside of which was water pure enough to have been melted from an iceberg. Eoin laughed. He laughed and laughed - even bent backward off the table into a handstand, then leapt to his feet." Fantastic? No! Extraordinary! You've done exactly what you did with the weaving - both natures working together to create companion manifestations - resulting in pure Life and pure Water!" Miriam laughed with him.

"See, this was the reaction I was hoping for the first time."

"Gods, woman! Why am I teaching you? Make me your apprentice, master! I can make you the most amazing afternoon tea." He leaned in conspiratorily and stage-whispered "It's got rum in it!"

"Enough, enough!" she said, trying to bring herself back under control.

"I get an A for effort, but my little thimble of water isn't going to break down this ward." Eoin's eyes twinkled.

"Or will it?" Then his smile faded, and his voice took on a more somber tone.

"Miriam, I have to tell you something. That night, when I talked to my fórsa theorist friend, I learned something else. Something I should have known - something I did know, I suppose, but just didn't think about."

"About my fórsa?"

"No. About you." He levered up onto his elbow, looking at her.

"Miriam, you are a dryad. A tree spirit. There is a reason you never see them in the Outer Ring. Do you know why that is?" Miriam was beginning to get a chill.

"No."

"It's because they can't leave their trees for long. If a dryad leaves their tree they get weaker and weaker over time. Most don't last more than a year unless they're reunited. And…from what you've told me, this willow in your world is likely your tree. Miriam, we have no way to get you back there. Not with my Amethyst Reel, not with any of the vents. They all only go one way, aside from the odd drop of fórsa here and there." Eoin looked pained and sad.

"There is only one way from Tír to touch the Realms Above. The Ruairí Cistern is said to be a gate that allows passage there." Miriam released her held breath.

"Ah, so there is a way. You had me worried, Eoin!"

"No, you don't understand. The Ruairí Cistern is at the heart of Tír. The center of the Rings. In the Celestial City. Ruled by King Eoghan of the Celestial Court." She furrowed her brow.

"So? We need his permission?" Eoin looked frustrated.

"I mean, yes, we would. But that's not the real problem. If I could pick you up right now and plonk you down in the middle of Celestial City your entire body would implode under the fórsa pressure. Remember, the deeper you go into Tír the more concentrated the fórsa. That's why Solas is so desperate for yours - he can travel at best one or two rings in before he collapses. Even I couldn't set foot in Celestial City." Miriam sat up.

"So what? I'm learning this stuff fast. I will just have to weave a lot more." Eoin sighed.

"It's not that simple, Miriam. The greatest wielder of fórsa the world has ever seen was born on the Fourth Ring. It took him centuries to make it to the Celestial City. What you have to do…it's likely impossible." Miriam smiled, stretching contentedly.

"Never mind all that, Eoin. A month ago, I lived every day with the knowledge that death was just as likely as another sunrise. I will find this tree - I don't plan on dying any time soon. But every day I have here just feels like a gift." Eoin smiled back at her.

"I should have known you were as unflappable as you are brilliant. Regardless! These are troubles for another day. And… we have enough troubles in this one to deal with. Let's go through the forms one more time, shall we?" ✧✧✧ The day before Eoin's ship was set to arrive Miriam didn't sleep a wink. They had planned the day out as best they could, but there were a lot of factors they couldn't be sure of.

Solas had dragged her all over the swamp and never to the same place twice, telling her stories and slowly filling his crystal. They couldn't know where he would take her today. Ideally places strong in both Water and Life fórsa, which frankly was most of the Swamp. Eoin was more confident in her Water control, so he hoped for somewhere by the canals. Either way they had a plan - at least most of one. Whatever Solas did, she would have to improvise the rest.

She listened to Solas stomp down the stairs once again, but this time he wore no knapsack nor did he have on his hiking boots. His toes wiggled bare and revolting out of threadbare socks. He laced on his control chain and walked casually into the ward. Ignoring her he dragged a short ladder from the far corner of the room and climbed up, unlatching the small window by some means Miriam couldn't see. She could have sworn it didn't open.

Still far too small for anyone, even Solas, to have climbed out of, it let in a brilliant beam of sunlight, creating a bar of nearly blinding illumination on one of the work tables. Inside this stream of light he set his Amethyst Reel. No. Miriam was panicking now. This was the one thing they never planned for, and it was the worst possible scenario. In this basement there was no water but what was in her body and what she could pull from her fórsa. No life but herself and Solas.

Eoin had counted on her techniques being strengthened by natural power, to surprise and overwhelm Solas before he could bring his Mind power to bear.

"This story happened right here in this room." Solas leered at her, as if he knew she had wanted to go outside. Well why wouldn't she? Who wants to be stuck in a basement forever? He leaned forward.

"In this room I made a deal with a traitor. A murderer. A lying bastard. The sort of man to take everything from you and call it friendship. I'm a Wisp, my dear. I know we seem cruel and distasteful to you. So take that weight in account when I tell you this was the most underhanded scum I ever met.

"His name was Eoin Daithi."