Free The Way of Wyrd by Brian Bates Page A

of your own life-force, for there are occasions when even an ordinary person generates vast quantities of it. For example, life-force increases when you are ill. Serious illness is a sign that spirits are attacking your soul. But usually spirits cannot capture a soul which is protected by life-force and at the first signs of danger life-force blazes into your head like a furnace. The inner heat is so great that your head will feel hot, even to the touch of others. If the spirits continue their attack, life-force flows down the spine like molten metal in a smith’s crucible and the entire body becomes hot. Even if the spirits successfully capture the victim’s soul, life-force continues to rage in an attempt to keep the body intact until the soul can be returned. But if a sorcerer does not intervene to recapture the soul, the sick person will burn himself out like a forest fire, and die.’
    Wulf’s graphic account reminded me of a serious illness I had survived as a small boy. I had been so hot I could hardly breathe, and my head had felt as if it were on fire. Terrifying voices and demons had visited me. Prayers had been said for me, to no avail, but one night my father had brought an old man from the village who examined me by looking into my ears. He had poured an evil-smelling substance on to my head and body and then sung strange words to me. The following day I cooled down and gradually recovered completely. I remember my father telling everyone in the family never to breathe a word about the old man’s visit to the house, because we lived on monastic property and the priests would be angry.
    It surprised me that I had completely forgotten the incident until now, but I said nothing about it to Wulf. I sat and watched him cleaning berry juice from his hat with dew-wet bunches of grass.
    ‘Did you see the slaves at Aethelwealh’s fortress?’ Wulf enquired suddenly.
    I nodded, puzzled by the question.
    ‘Did you see the metal bands around their necks? These bands signify that the slave’s life-force does not flow freely into his body, for his vitality is controlled by his owner. And the beard and hair of slaves is cropped, for hair is one of the outward signs of life-force in a person.’
    Wulf put on his black hat, pushed it to the back of his head and looked at me with half-closed eyes. In the soft light one of his eyes appeared strangely misty and his gaze made me feel distinctly uncomfortable.
    ‘You are young and healthy, Brand. You are generating abundant life-force, but it does not flow freely. You are blocking it.’
    I laughed with embarrassment and self-consciously passed a hand over my close-cropped hair.
    ‘No, Wulf. Short hair is the custom for the brethren of my faith. My life is dedicated to Almighty God, but I am a slave to no man of this world.’
    Wulf shook his head slowly, still looking at me probingly. ‘I shall arrange for you to meet Water Goddess. She will unleash your life-force.’
    ‘What do you mean, Wulf? What is the Water Goddess?’ I was as alarmed by his sly demeanour as I was by his reference to the goddess.
    ‘Water Goddess is beautiful,’ he said, a crafty gleam in his eyes. ‘She is soft and warm; she will wrap you in her silvery embrace and your spirit will rise.’
    He made what I took to be an obscene gesture and I turned away from him in disgust, feeling my face flush with anger. I was acutely embarrassed by such talk. Sometimes I had whispered about such matters with the novices in the dormitory, but to discuss it openly with a stranger was shameful. I made much of undoing and restrapping my shoes, hoping that Wulf would drop the subject.
    I could sense that he was watching me but I sat in frosty silence, staring at my shoes. Suddenly he squatted next to me and thrust his face into mine.
    ‘In this kingdom, a lover is called a neck-bedfellow, because after being with a woman you can virtually feel the bonds of enslavement around your neck.’ He wagged a forefinger