Ailbhe’s Touch
I turn to face the sandstone path when I hear her, the faint tinkling of the jewelry Mama lets her borrow floating through the air like so many cheerful bells. As she rounds the last bend, carrying a blue vase that she filled with river water, my eyes are assaulted with the flashiness of her perfection; her tan skin, sprinkled with freckles, brings out the lively green of her eyes and her smooth black hair cascades down her back like a waterfall. Her light pink tunic accentuates the bright berry juice she rubbed on her lips, and as she raises her hand to wave at me, a colorful combination of rose quartz, turquoise, gold, and lapis lazuli shimmers from the many pieces of jewelry she is wearing. In some families, the mother favors the youngest, but why move your attention to your next daughter when your first one is so stunningly perfect?
“Hello, younger sister,” she says, smiling. But it’s a fixed smile, and her eyes hold an unmistakable trace of disdain as she looks at me. Glancing at my warped reflection in the shiny ceramic vase in her arms, I’m briefly ashamed. My clothes and hands are stained with mud from gardening and there are a few smudges on my face that the sweat trickling down it hasn’t erased.
“Hi, older sister,” I respond automatically. The smell of her perfume is overwhelming, and I’m suddenly seized with the fear that it will stain me somehow, that I’ll never be able to wash away the pungent stench of berries and citrus.
The fake smile is still plastered on her face and I know she is judging me. “You should go back inside. The sun’s almost in the middle of the sky and if you stay out any longer, you’ll get burnt.”
I shrug noncommittally and she turns away, trying to hide her impatience. “Suit yourself,” she calls over her shoulder, starting down the path once more.
When I was younger, I used to be jealous of my sister. Like a lotus blossom in bloom, she attracted the attention of the entire village. Mama would buy us trinkets from the merchants that occasionally passed through the village with their wares, and although no one ever mentioned it, I noticed that my sister’s were always vastly more extravagant than mine. Eventually, however, I realized that while she had useless collections of ivory hairbrushes and strange embroidered shoes, I had something that my sister did not: freedom. Mama’s lack of affection towards me came from her early understanding that she was blessed with only one marriable daughter, and as a result, she let me alone to do as I pleased, something for which I am eternally grateful. For no matter how beautiful she is, or perhaps because of her beauty, my sister will never be truly free.
Once my sister is out of sight, I stand up and walk towards the river, to rinse my muddy hands before returning to the village. The foreign merchants tell of a land where people have gardens by their houses, but in the desert, the soil isn’t fertile enough. Instead, each family has their own plot of land near the river banks, and tending to our family’s garden is my duty.
I’m what the merchants call albino. A strange word for a strange likeness. My people call it “Ailbhe’s touch,” for my paleness is reminiscent of the moon spirit himself. Unlike in the other parts of the desert, there are plenty of trees by the garden to cast shade over my sensitive skin while I work, so the beating sun doesn’t redden it.
When I reach the river, I dip my feet into it, letting the cool water swirl around my ankles and watching the ripples radiate outwards. The water is completely calm for a moment, an instant that seems like eternity as my ever-changing reflection becomes still, and a teenage girl with translucent white hair and wide purple eyes stares back at me. The second passes and my reflection is shattered by a funnel of water that rises from the depths of the river, beginning to form a humanoid shape as it reaches the sunlit surface. Even though it’s a spectacle I’ve witnessed a thousand times, I watch with awe as the water is replaced by the real flesh of Calistia, the river spirit, her shimmering blue eyes fixed on me.
“Althaea,” she says, smiling gently. “How are you?”
I extract my feet from the river, watching the water drip onto the brown soil. “I’m alright, I suppose. How are you?”
She waves my question aside, coming to sit next to me on the river bank. “Same as always,” she says with a small laugh. “I don’t mean to be blunt by dismissing pleasantries, but I have something I need to speak with you about.”
I hesitate. “Okay. I have something to say too, but you go first.”
“I spoke with Ailbhe yesterday.” She pauses for a moment, allowing me to process the shocking news. Greater spirits, especially those as prominent as Ailbhe, don’t usually go out of their way to speak with nature spirits. “He knows I am close with you and he wanted me to ask you something on his behalf. Times are changing, Althaea. People no longer respect the nature spirits as they once did; they are trespassing into ancient, forbidden lands, awakening unfriendly spirits, and polluting natural treasures with little regard for us, the friendly spirits. These are troubling times, and Ailbhe is asking His Chosen—such as yourself—to help protect us. Since those who bear the paleness are the only ones who bear ability to speak with spirits, he wants you to advocate, if you will, for the old ways to be respected. For progress to be made, but not at the expense of natural world.” She pauses for a second to gauge my reaction. “Since this is the area you are familiar with, you would be responsible for protecting the desert and the nature spirits who live here.”
I know there are others like me, who too bear the paleness and the ability to speak with spirits, but I never considered the possibility that Ailbhe would call upon us. “I would love to, but…” I stare out across the shifting hills of sand, instinctively searching for the low, clay houses of the village. “That’s what I needed to talk to you about. It’s the famine. It’s been happening for nearly a year now, and there isn’t enough food to support the entire village anymore. We’re considering leaving, moving to the Eastern Empire.”
A gigantic crocodile I hadn’t noticed emerges from the water, wading down the river to nuzzle Calistia’s hand affectionately. She absentmindedly scratches him under the chin, frowning in thought. “Do you want to leave?”
“No, of course not. But if my family goes…well, they’re my family.”
“I understand,” Calistia says. “Whether or not you stay and protect the desert is your choice. Ailbhe has given you an incredible gift, but it will always be up to you to decide how you use it.”
An incredible gift. I’m struck by the stark difference between her perception of my abilities and my family’s. Mama, for instance, certainly doesn’t see it that way. She has forbidden me to tell anyone of my ability, for the fear the it would ruin my sister’s marrying prospects.
“But how could I possibly protect you? I’m just a human,” I say, incredulously. “You’re immortal.”
She stares at the river, sadness swirling in her eyes. “Immortal, yes. But if my river was polluted, choked by waste, my animals and plants sickened…what good would my immortality be then?” There is silence between us for a moment, only broken by the happy gurgling of the river. “Just think about it,” she finally adds, with a small attempt at a smile.
~*~*~*~*~*~
The glass beads hanging in the entranceway of my clay home clink gently in the morning breeze. It’s a day after my conversation with Calistia, just before sunrise, and the pale light of the moon passes through the glass to create dancing patterns on the earthen floor. I shift my sleeping fur to the side quietly, and after ensuring Mama and my sister are still asleep, I head out into the crisp morning air.
A soft draft pushes my hair off my shoulders and tugs at my sand-colored tunic as I walk down the path, to the desert. I’m going in the opposite direction of the river this time, towards the tall dunes that cradle the village in their sandy caress.
At the base of one such dune, I catch sight of a dust devil, whirling around and around. A few feet away stands a short figure, his mop of black hair whipping in the wind as he dances in sync with the tiny cyclone, to the song of a lone, desert bird.
“Ajai!” I call, after I’m sure it is him.
In an instant, he’s running towards me, faster than any mortal could ever move, the dust devil disappearing as he does so. “Althaea, Althaea!” he cries, throwing his arms around me. He’s short, barely reaching my stomach, so his arms are wrapped tightly around my waist.
“Where have you been?” I ask him, laughingly. “It’s been nearly an entire moon since I last saw you!”
He launches into an account of his adventures with childish glee. Sometimes it’s hard for me to remember that Ajai, the spirit of the East Wind, is much older than me; at a young age, he was cursed by an unfriendly spirit and condemned to spend the rest of eternity stuck in the body and mentality of a small child.
He tells me of his travels, of the fields and fields of colorful flowers that bloom in the West. Of the icy mountains that tower in the North, and of the great tropical jungles that cover the South. When he speaks of the Eastern Empire, however, his voice falters for a moment. “I went to the city. Everything is so dark now. There’s black smoke everywhere, and the river has turned brown. Why would they do that, Althaea? Don’t they care about the spirits?” Eyes wide in his chubby face, he stares at me innocently. Looking closer now, I can see a twinge of sickness in his normally rosy cheeks and smell the faint, acrid fumes of the city in the breeze.
“I don’t know, Ajai. I really don’t.”
He’s troubled, I can tell, but pessimism was never in his nature. He shakes off his lingering sadness and grabs my hand.
“I almost forgot! I brought you something!” He flicks his wrist and, like magic, a small gust of wind blows a large flower towards me. Its vibrant green leaves flutter delicately as it floats downwards, and as I reach up to catch it, a white, velvety petal brushes my fingertip softly.
“It’s beautiful,” I tell him, holding it in the palm of my hand.
He beams. “It reminded me of you!”
The flower is a glowing, lovely white, and it must have reminded him of my appearance. “Thank you so much. I love it.”
He smiles. “Will you dance the sun ritual with me?” he asks, the dust under our feet beginning to swirl.
“Of course,” I grin, and with the glowing rays of light touching our upturned faces and dust devils whirling around us, we dance to greet the new day.
~*~*~*~*~*~
It is only a few days after I danced with Ajai, and the moment I have been dreading has come. I can tell by the solemn look on my sister’s face as she enters our stooped home, the top of her bun brushing against the beads. She’s wearing a different perfume this time, one that smells strongly of cinnamon and berries. “Althaea,” she says, beckoning me. “Come here. Mother and I want to talk with you.”
I follow her out into the dusty twilight, where Mama is waiting. Raising my head to the sky, I can already see a few glowing stars in the sky, sparkling like gems. “Yes?”
“The village had a meeting today, while you were out gardening,” my sister begins. I feel my stomach twist with indignation. They had a meeting without me? Am I not part of the village as well?
“The decision was made. The famine is too bad and we’ve decided to move to the Eastern Empire. We’re leaving in a few days, so you need to pack your things.”
“I’m not coming.” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.
“What?” my sister says, even though I know she heard me perfectly. “Don’t be silly, of course you are.”
I hate the condescending tone in her voice, as if she thinks I couldn’t live without her. I hate how Mama is standing back, not even bothering to try to convince me to come, already certain that my answer will be yes. After all, who could possibly say no to my sister?
Even as I open my mouth to do just that, the bitter truth forces itself into my mind. My mother and my sister are all I have. I am nothing without my family.
But out of the corner of my eye, I see a little dust devil swirling around and around, dancing at the base of a small hill of sand. The faint, soothing sound of the river reaches my ears, and I can almost hear Calistia’s laughter bubbling up from the water. The silhouette of the moon rests on the horizon, as Ailbhe, the spirit who bestowed upon me the greatest gift, prepares to rise from his palace at the edge of the world. And in that moment, I realize something.
So, with a smile playing on my lips and my eyes fixed on the sand dunes, bathed in the red light of a brilliant sunset, I give them my answer.
“No. I’m already home.”