In the Twilight Times
by J.J. FellowsMyrana Mata slept and dreamed in the twilight times. The spirits of her ancestors hovered over her dreams. And one of them, the one who knew how, entered them.
She sat on a frozen river beneath the blackened sky though she knew she slept peacefully in her own bed. Arama Mata sat beside her fishing in a fishing hole. The stillness was comfortable, as it had been in life.
Arama Mata spoke after several moments. "How are you managing in my absence?" she asked.
"I'm managing."
"But you live on the edge of the village. You are alone, ostracized."
"Not so alone, Grandmother Mata. I have my partner by my side."
"But the villagers do not stand by your side," Arama Mata said, gravely. "That is why I am here. I have been watching you in these twilight times when the spirits gain strength from the darkness. And I do not like what I see. You are restless in your isolation?"
Myrana Mata's eyes filled with tears. She felt them snake a frozen streak down her cheeks. And, in another place, she felt them matt the furs upon which her head rested in sleep. "Our people are abandoning the old ways and the old gods. They are afraid of people like us, Grandma Mata."
Arama Mata patted her granddaughter on the back. "It is hard to be trusted when one walks the mysterious line between the living and the dead. It has always been so for our kind, little one. People will always fear what they cannot understand, and the knowledge of the old ways is given only to a few. They may abandon the old ways, but the old ways will never abandon our people. In the end the village will always depend on you, whether they want to or not."
Myrana Mata nodded. "Thank you for coming to see me tonight," she said.
"It is the twilight times," Arama Mata replied. "And I will always come in the twilight times to watch over my granddaughter, and lend guidance wherever I can. Be strong, little one. Do not abuse your power and all will be well."
Myrana Mata nodded. And her dreams shifted to wild imagination without any spirits or meaning.
The sun had not risen in days. Myrana Mata was beginning to find it depressing.
"It's funny how there are some things you just never get used to, isn't it?" she said to her partner, Aneck Tanari. "Every winter the sun abandons us, and it seems like hope is lost as well. The world feels as though it will never be bright, it will never have colour, my skin will never feel warmth, and nothing will ever chase the dead away."
"Winter is the time of the spirits," Aneck Tanari responded gravely as he chewed on a piece of animal fat by the fire. "I like it not that our child may come into the world without seeing the light of day."
Myrana Mata patted her expanding stomach fondly. "He will have us to guide him, my love. He will not need the sun."
"But the strength of the gods grows weak with the fading of the sunlight, and the strength of the spirits grows stronger." Aneck Tanari sounded fearful.
Myrana Mata shook her head and came to her partner, resting his head against her breast and stroking his hair with her rough hands. "That is a superstition, my love. The spirits of the twilight land are no more malicious than the midnight sun is benevolent. You would not want one to rule us all the time. Nature is made up of balance, and both are needed. Rejoice in the coming of your child, and do not fear as to its time."
Aneck Tanari grumbled against her breast.
"What was that, my love?" Myrana Mata asked, releasing her partner.
"The ramblings of a witch. You and your kind will find something worth while in every element of nature, won't you?" he grumbled louder. "Just my luck that I am partnered to a witch." But he smiled while he said it.
Myrana Mata laughed and cuffed him on the side of the head, gently. "Remember, my love, without the sun to chase the dead away, our child is surrounded by all his ancestors. All who have walked through this life before are there to guide him in his first steps." She smiled as she thought of her dream from the night before. She could almost feel her grandmother's presence, a strong reassuring force.
Aneck Tanari opened his mouth, and it looked for a moment as though he might object to her, but then he shook his head and lifted himself out of his chair. "I need to check the fishing hole and make sure it is still open," he said instead. With that, he left.
Myrana Mata watched her partner go with a heavy heart. She loved him dearly, but she was and would forever be kept apart from him. One could not know all that Myrana Mata knew, and could not control all that she controlled, without making a few people fearful. She knew people were afraid that some day she would abuse this position, just as surely as she knew the child she carried was a son, and not a daughter. She was thankful it was a boy. A girl might have been a witch, forever held apart. It still hurt when her own partner could not speak freely before her. Even Aneck Tanari, who shared her bed, did not always share his heart with her.
She was musing over these thoughts when the knock came at her door. Myrana Mata opened it to find her kin, Kelyn Mata, holding a wild-eyed young child in his arms. The girl was shaking, and convulsing so badly that Kelyn Mata had trouble holding her. He was sobbing as he clutched at the child. Tears hung like icicles from his nose.
Myrana Mata stepped aside and ushered the man and the shaking child into her home, closing the door behind them.
"Witch Myrana," Kelyn Mata began, but Myrana Mata held up a hand, silencing him.
"Do you dare to call me that, kin of my kin? Do you deny that we share a common name, a common soul?" Her voice rose until it rolled through her small home like summer waves crashing on the shore.
Kelyn Mata blanched, and shivered slightly beneath the furs he wore. "I meant no disrespect, Myrana Mata."
"Do not lie to me. I know what you meant. I know what all those of the Mata family mean by refusing to speak that part of my name. You are ashamed to have a witch in your family, ashamed to share a soul with me. You are fearful that you will be judged by what the gods have granted me." As she spoke, she laid warm blankets on the floor before the fire. "Lay the girl down there. I'd do it myself, but my back is sore."
Kelyn Mata did as Myrana Mata asked. She eased her way down onto the floor beside the child with Kelyn Mata's help, and began removing the girl's furs. "What has happened to the little Mata?" she asked.
"We don't know. She just began acting strangely this morning, and she got stranger and stranger all day. At supper time she fell down and began to shake. We tried every remedy Mother Atyni knows, nothing worked. So..."
"So you argued about what was to be done, even though you all knew very well that there was only one thing you could do. Then you argued over who was going to have to do it and you were unlucky, Kelyn Mata. Is that about it?"
Kelyn Mata swallowed and nodded.
"Poor little Mata," Myrana Mata crooned, pushing the girl's soft black hair away from her face. She bent over the shaking form and peered into the child's eyes. "How old is little Mata now?" she asked, and then began chanting a soothing spell softly.
"She's four. We stopped calling her little Mata last night, and gave her her own name, her own unique soul." Kelyn Mata said proudly.
Myrana Mata stopped mid chant, and fixed her cousin with an expression so intense that it appeared for a moment as though he had forgotten to breathe under her gaze. "You did?"
"Well," Kelyn Mata swallowed again, and began to fidget with the edge of his scarf, "She is the proper age to handle and control a spirit of her own. I'm sorry you weren't invited. My partner didn't feel comfortable having you there. She thought it might draw the attention of the ghosts."
"I see," Myrana Mata tried to take a deep steadying breath, but failed to get her emotions under control. She could feel rage boiling up inside her. But she needed to care for the child. What was done, was done. She heaved herself up off the floor, and made her way to the kitchen to check her supplies.
"Yes, but we did it up all proper. We lit the candles to call the spirits, and killed a dog to feed them, and sent the menstruating women away so that their power would not intimidate the spirits. And we asked the spirits to give us a name."
"And they did." Myrana Mata said through clenched teeth as she dug through a cupboard, making a mental catalogue of what she had and what she would need.
"Yes, it's - "
"No," Myrana Mata roared, spinning around to face her kin. "Do not give them more power. How did my people become so ignorant as to give the spirits power when the sun has fled and they are already at their most powerful?"
Kelyn Mata stared at her and shook his head. "I don't understand."
"This is the time of the spirits. The time of the twilight people. They don't need your sacrifices, or your candles, or your promises to listen and obey them. They are at their full strength. The soul you gave your child is that of a strong and powerful spirit. How is she to bend such a soul to her will? How can she compel such a powerful soul to obey her? Children must not be named in the winter months when the soul is too strong and restless to be satisfied to simply live again. The soul must be invited in the summer months when the spirits are weak and crave attention. Then, in their joy at being honored, they will bend to the will of the child. But not now. This is common knowledge. How could you have been so thoughtless as to name her now?"
"My partner thought it all superstition. She did not want our child known by the same soul as the witch anymore. She wanted the child to have her own name as soon as possible, to limit how much of her soul she shared with Witch Myrana." Kelyn Mata explained. Then his whole face whitened as he realized what he had said.
Myrana Mata spat at her cousin. "I warned you about disrespecting me. You are no longer welcome in my house. Get out now before you suffer the consequences."
Kelyn Mata stood, but he did not leave. Myrana Mata was impressed, she didn't think her cousin had any backbone at all. The fact that he had not run for the door surprised her. But then, parenthood changes many things. "I - I am sorry, Myrana Mata. You may do with me what you will, but I cannot leave without your pledge to help my child. You're quarrel is with me, not her."
"Fool," Myrana Mata said. "Did I say I would not help her? I said you must leave. And you will. I will not suffer you in my house for another moment. But she will stay, and I will do what I can."
"Thank you," Kelyn Mata said, fresh tears streaking down his face. "What will you do to her?" he asked, fear causing a quiver in his voice.
She turned her back on her cousin, resuming her search of her cupboards. "I must rename her. I must compel this soul to leave by introducing another. You may not like the result."
"What name will you choose?" Kelyn Mata asked.
Myrana Mata's hands fell to her sides, and she bowed her head. There was only one choice. "Ajurna," she said gravely.
Kelyn Mata gasped. "But her soul?" he protested. "What kind of a soul is that?"
"Her body cannot cope with the soul you have given her. She will die if something is not done. I can save the body tonight."
Kelyn Mata said nothing more. After a moment, Myrana Mata heard him leave.
It was hours later, and the stars had finished one wild dance across the sky and begun another. Aneck Tanari had come home with a pile of fish a few hours ago and had listened to Myrana Mata's story of how the child came to be on their floor, and what she intended to do about it. He was sympathetic, but there was little he could do to help. He was now snoring softly in the bedroom.
Myrana Mata bent over the convulsing child. She had extinguished every light in the house, and found a menstruating woman in the village to hold the child's head. The woman was a member of the Atyni family, as was Kelyn Mata's partner, making this woman and the child kin. Kin ties were stronger than magic, and Myrana Mata hoped that this woman's presence might help her do the task which had to be done tonight.
The woman's face was white with terror. She had refused when Myrana Mata first demanded her help. In the end, Myrana Mata cast a spell on the woman, forcing her to obey. She knew this would cause the villagers to fear her even more, but if the ritual weren't conducted soon, the child would be lost.
Myrana Mata herself was pregnant, and so could serve as the new life which would drain and drive away the darkness. She had carefully mixed the potion which would make the child's body an uncomfortable place for spirits to dwell. She now poured it between the girl's lips slowly so that the child would not choke.
She whispered "Ajurna" into the child's ear. "Become Ajurna, become nothing." And she found that as she whispered her own tears splashed onto the girl's forehead. The body would be saved, but the soul. What would it be like for this child to live with nothing for a soul? Myrana Mata knew that the body came first. A soul needed a house to live in, so this house must be saved. No soul could be compelled to live in a dead body. But she wasn't certain what would happen once she replaced the powerful soul in the child's body with 'Ajurna' either. When the spring came, could she undo what she would do tonight? Could any spirit be compelled to take the place of this name, this void? Myrana Mata pushed those doubts aside. Time enough to worry about that in the spring.
The child finally stopped convulsing, and her eyes became wide and vacant. Myrana Mata felt something cold brush her cheek, and she knew the spirit had just flown past. She wrapped the child in blankets and furs and the girl did not resist. She did nothing but breathe and blink.
Myrana Mata slowly, stiffly, stood up and removed the binding placed on the menstruating woman. "Take Ajurna Mata to the village," she said, "and tell them that her body has been saved."
The woman scooped the small child up in her arms and stared at Myrana Mata with hatred and fear in her dark eyes, making them smolder like hot embers. "You suppressed my will," she shrieked in apparent hysterics, her lips trembling. "You have suppressed my will and forced me to help you create an abomination." She was backing towards the door, the child held close in her arms.
Myrana Mata was furious, but before she could retort, she felt strong reassuring hands press down on her shoulders, and a steady voice spoke from behind her. "My partner did what was required to save the child," Aneck Tanari said. "The child is her kin just as she is your kin, and so I know you both share the sorrow for what has happened to her. But she lives. As long as she lives, we may hope for better."
The woman's wild eyes focused in Aneck Tanari's face. "You are worse than she is," she cried, clutching the child to her breast as though one of the two who faced her might try to snatch it from her arms. "Evil is in her blood. She is a witch, just as her grandmother was a witch. But you. You freely associate with evil of your own choice."
Aneck Tanari gently steered Myrana Mata behind him as he stepped in front of her. "I think you should leave," he said, his voice as low and menacing as a bear's growl.
But it appeared that the woman had no intention of staying. She had finally backed up to the door and she wrenched it open and ran out into the gently falling snow outside. The darkness soon enveloped her shape and the snow quickly filled in her footprints.
Aneck Tanari crossed the room and shut the door. He turned to face his partner and give her a big warm grin. "Another successful night's work, I hope. Or have I lost a night's sleep for nothing?"
Myrana Mata shook her head, a bitter smile crossing her own face. "Why do you choose isolation with me, my love?"
Aneck Tanari came to his partner and enfolded her in an easy hug. "Better to be alone with you than in the largest village without you. Without you, I would be alone, no matter how many others were present." And he kissed the top of her head, and led her to the bedroom.
She sat by the fishing hole, and Arama Mata sat beside her. The old woman smiled, and touched Myrana Mata's face. "You did a very clever thing today, saving the little Mata. That required some quick thinking. She will be a dull and boring daughter, but she is alive."
"But what kind of life have I given her?" Myrana Mata asked.
Arama Mata patted her granddaughter's hand. "Perhaps she can be given a soul in the spring. I do not know. We will simply have to wait and see. But you have given her a chance. And that is important."
Myrana Mata nodded, "Thank you, Grandmother Mata. But I shouldn't have had to do anything at all. Why do our people not respect the old ways? Why did they put that child in such danger?"
"They do not understand the laws of this land the way you do, little one. They have never spoken to the gods under the blinding summer sun. They have never spent an evening with their ancestors in the twilight times." Grandmother Mata looked out over the frozen land sparkling now under the moon.
"But they see the effects," Myrana Mata protested stubbornly. "They saw what happened to that child, and what I had to do in order to save her. They should know."
"They should," Grandmother Mata agreed, "but they don't. Not every child named in the twilight times suffers this fate. The spirits are not always watching, and they are not always quick enough to take advantage. And our people do not know if these effects are due to sickness, or the spirits, or even you yourself, my little witch. You must not blame them for their ignorance. Would you blame a blind man for being unable to see? It is asking too much from them." Grandmother Mata cupped Myrana Mata's head in her mittened hands. "You need to rest. There is a body inside you, awaiting a spirit of his own, and he needs you to rest."
And Myrana Mata felt the babe in her belly give her a sharp kick, jolting her awake. She shifted on the furs, trying to find a more comfortable position. But she could not find sleep. Her grandmother's words echoed through her head. And they made sense. She was asking too much of the villagers. But too much was being asked of her. Could she continue to lead and protect them when none would trust or believe her?
And the moment she asked the question of herself, she knew the answer. Perhaps the burden was too much to bear. But the alternative was to leave them to their fate, and allow children like Ajurna Mata to suffer until their last breath. Perhaps the burden was too much to bear, but Myrana Mata could not bear to put it down. She would carry it, and she would give thanks that she shared her isolation with a wonderful man. And she would be grateful that her son would not have to carry this burden also. And that would be enough.
©J.J. Fellows
J.J. Fellows lives in British Columbia, Canada. She used to write stories quite often in her childhood, but school and life got in the way. However, those persistent little stories were not content to wait for a convenient time, and demanded to be put into print. Recently she has given into their demands. Her work has previously appeared in The Lorelei Signal and The Sword Review.