The World Above the Sky by Kent Stetson Page B

her free.”
    â€œSet her free?”
    â€œLet the Goddess reign refreshed in the forests and plains beyond the five inland seas.”
    Morgase’s mortal remains slumped to the ground. Eugainia strained toward Her Shepherd’s lifeless form. She kissed Morgase’s forehead, closed her staring eyes. Despair fell upon the clearing like a shroud.
    The tattooed young man re-emerged from the forest. “Mimk ɨ tawo’qu’sk.” He indicated himself. “I am Mimk ɨ tawo’qu’sk.”
    Henry accepted the willow branches, which he proffered. “My Lady,” Henry asked, “what am I to do with the willow?”
    Keswalqw emerged and stood at Mimk ɨ tawo’qu’sk’s side. “Keswalqw,” she said. “My name is Keswalqw. I can help this woman.”
    â€œWhat are they saying?” Antonio asked.
    Eugainia gestured the woman forward. “Kes…wal…?”
    Keswalqw approached. “Kes— wal— qw.”
    â€œKes-wall-qwah,” Eugainia repeated carefully.
    Keswalqw nodded.
    â€œI am Eugainia. Good soul, have you come to help me?”
    Keswalqw chewed then spat a fibrous plug of pulped twigs into her palm. Eugainia opened her mouth and received the poultice.
    â€œGood, little sister. You’re safe. You will live.” Keswalqw stroked Eugainia’s brow. “Mimk ɨ tawo’qu’sk. Take these men from this place.”
    â€œYes, Aunt.” Mimk ɨ tawo’qu’sk turned to Henry and Antonio. “Come, kin-friends. Come.” He moved to the edge of the clearing, expecting them to follow. They did not. He beckoned. “Come. This is no place for us. Birthing blood will weaken us...we...us...men....Aunt? They don’t answer.”
    â€œThey don’t speak our tongue, poor things.”
    Henry hesitated. Eugainia reassured him: “Henry this woman, Keswalqw, is sent to the Goddess by God Almighty Himself. I have no fear. Nor shall you.”
    Henry bent to remove Morgase’s body.
    â€œNo. Leave her.”
    Mimk ɨ tawo’qu’sk led Henry from the clearing. Antonio followed.
    Life, it is said, begins with a miracle and ends with a mystery. Eugainia cried in ecstasy. Geese in flight, the full moon sailing. She lay precisely positioned on the fulcrum of the finest of balances. The memory of her swift flight with her mother through salt sea waters cleansed her blood. Seas of thunder, she whispered, great with whales. Garathia in Selkie form rose to the surface of her consciousness and opened her nostrils: she exhaled the scented earth alive and seeded. Eugainia threw her head back, opened her eyes. The sky hung blue, an open question begging no answer. Eugainia foresaw her destiny. The names of the Two Made One be praised. The sigh became a groan. She would soon become a frightening mystery to herself, unrecognizable to those who loved her. She would survive the birth of this child. She would have another. She compressed these assurance into one ecstatic push. In the thrust of muscle and gush of blood, seventeen-year-old Eugainia St. Clair Delacroix came to know the joy of the miracle that heralds life’s beginning and, in the same instant, the sorrow that masks the mystery of death.
    Keswalqw said a magic word she knew. She unfolded a square of soft hide. She received the silent infant.
    â€œKeswalqw?”
    Keswalqw showed Eugainia her misshapen, stillborn child, its frail torso blackened, as though shot through with a searing bolt of light.
    The green world vanished. The golden cord snapped. Eugainia fell into the shadow world of ash and dust. Descent seemed without dimension and eternal. The Royal and Holy Blood purged of its purple bruise by Keswalqw’s potion, rushed scarlet through her veins. She rode new waves of ecstasy propelled by Keswalqw’s infusion. Fear dissolved in shadow. Anguish became transparent as the air and upon the air floated away. Eugainia