Traveller Inceptio

Tatae felt dizzy, disoriented, and even more terrified than when the Danes had attacked. One moment she was in the stillness of the forest and the next, in a strange, noisy place where odd-looking people were in a frantic hurry to help the strangers, including her Michael. She had never before been in such a press of noisy anxiety. Even when the villagers had fled to the caves, there had been a degree of calm. Clinging grimly to Michael’s stretcher, she ran with the others from the strange building through open air, to a huge, dragon-like creature that turned out to be some kind of metal cart. She had nearly screamed, but clung to Michael’s hand and trusted the people’s desire to help him. As long as she held his hand, she would be safe.

These people were indeed angels, as the monks had repeatedly told her for, with a roar, the cart flew. Warriors in helmets closed a door and sat in the front as if to guide where they should go. A woman and a man, dressed in bright red, also jumped on board. They were healers, for they fussed over Michael as only healers would. One of the bandaged friends of Michael smiled reassuringly and told her, over the noise, not to be afraid, while another woman held her other hand.

Michael also spoke to her wearily. “Don’t be afraid, my love,” he muttered quietly.

The healer Kitchener had given him something to make him drowsy and she kissed his filthy, bloodstained hand and lips. Everything was too much to take in. There were strange smells, things she could never understand, and as they travelled, she was directed by the woman holding her hand to look out of a clear part in the cart’s wall so she could look down and see wondrous things. There was a forest, seen as if from the top of a mount, and other things she could only imagine were villages. If they were villages, there were so many people.

Her stomach fluttered as the cart roared. One of the healers, with beautiful, dark-brown skin and pieces of glass over his bright eyes, smiled. Both he and a woman healer had hair shorn like slaves, but did not behave like slaves. They spoke with calm authority to the woman, who was named Captain. They were all friendly, but they looked at her curiously.

Tatae’s stomach swooped again and she gasped in fear. There was a bump and the door was thrown open, startling her as a roar of noise came with gusts of cool wind. The healers helped her gently to the ground while others, dressed in green and white, placed Michael onto a finely made metal stretcher with wheels and took him away. They all ran, rushing him into a strange place with doors that opened by themselves. Tatae called out in panic and Captain held her back.

“It’s all going to be well, Tatae. Our healers have great skill and will help Michael,” a warrior told her gently in his strongly accented way.

Tatae cried out in her fear and loss, “Michael, please don’t leave me alone in this strange place.” Her hands flew to her mouth and she began to weep. She feared losing him and being lost here forever. Why did healers take him away? Whenever she helped the injured or ill, the families were always with them to offer comfort and strength.

With a comforting arm around her shoulders, Captain led her gently to sit on a soft seat covered with fine cloth. There was confusion, bright colours, strange noises and where everyone rushed, too busy to take notice of her. Unlike the village, where each greeted the other, here Tatae felt invisible, not important enough to be noticed. For the first time in her life, she felt very small.

More healers took away the warrior, but before he left, he turned to her. “Tatae, this is Helen,” he gestured to Captain. “She will be with you until Michael has been cared for. She is our leader. As you see, I also need to be checked by our healers, but we’ll be back soon.” He smiled and gave her a hug.

She held him tightly. “Please bring my Michael back to me,” she said despairingly.

Helen took her hand and she gripped it tightly. Tatae found the way the women dressed and behaved, the odd light, and even the textured ground, were all too much to process and she sat dejected and afraid. A brown-skinned woman in blue led them to a quiet place and hurried off to return with cups and a plate. Offered one of the cups, Tatae nervously took a sip and felt the warm, sweet, delicious liquid, like one of her infusions, only much sweeter. There was too much honey in the infusion and accompanying sweetbreads, so she soon felt queasy. The brown woman sat with them and Tatae felt comforted by their company, despite the language barrier. She especially liked the brown woman, who always smiled.

Tatae swung her thick rope of hair over her breast and the brown woman pointed at the piece of dirty yellow ribbon woven through. She lifted her hair and kissed the ribbon and said to the women, “Michael gave this to me.”

They nodded, not understanding. The strangeness of her surroundings and the horrors of the day all came crashing onto her, and despite her best efforts, her bottom lip quivered like a child’s and she began to cry.