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Chapter 17 - Powers and Arrival
Manny let out a slow breath as the message from HOT settled in his mind. It arrived like a memory that belonged to someone else but felt completely natural to him. The first thing he understood was the magic of the First Men.
This was the part of their magic that was closest to life itself. Watching, sensing, slipping into the minds of animals. Skinchanging.
It came to him like a quiet instinct. He did not have to train it from nothing. Most people with this gift had to struggle for years, learning how to touch an animal's thoughts without hurting it, learning how not to lose themselves inside another mind. But Manny felt the skill already practiced and already awake. It was not perfect but powerful enough to take over wolves or any large beasts if he wished. He could say, without bragging, that he stood among the better users of this magic even though he had barely begun.
He had the sudden urge to try it right there in the cave, to look for a wolf or a falcon and slip inside its thoughts, but he forced himself to stay still. There would be time for that later. For now, he needed to understand everything Val had given him.
The next part of the message was colder and wilder, literally. Manny felt a rush of knowledge about the true North, beyond the Wall. He understood, in an instant, how to survive that kind of cold and the wild. Not by magic flames or fancy tricks, but by the instincts of those who had lived and died in that land long before castles existed. He could tell how fresh a track was, what kind of animal had passed, whether it was hungry or calm. He understood the way snow changed shape when a predator watched from nearby. He understood which tree or plant can be used for eating, making weapons or a hut. These were small skills when taken alone, but together they made survival far more likely. He named it the experience of Man vs. Wild, Cold version.
Then came the agility. He almost laughed when he felt it settle in his body. It reminded him of the moment in the morning when she had held the dagger against his throat—fast, fluid, accurate He could move quicker now. Not impossibly quick but quick enough to surprise someone who underestimated him. It felt like his body had been tuned, tightened, made ready.
He checked his hands and understood something else. Daggers. She had not been trained in a formal way, but she had been good enough to hold her own. Manny now had that experience in his muscles. The weight of a dagger felt natural. The idea of using it did not feel foreign. He knew he was no great warrior, but he could defend himself if needed.
Four gifts. Skinchanging. Wild(cold)-survival. Agility. Daggers. They were simple, practical, and more useful than anything he had expected. They were the the kind that kept a person alive.
Manny smiled to himself. For the first time he felt stronger, faster, sharper. He wanted to run out of the cave and start practicing everything at once. Find an animal. Touch its mind. Learn how far he could go.
But he stayed put. One step at a time. There would be chances later. If he saw a stray creature on the way, he might try his skinchanging properly. For now, he simply rested and let the warmth of the cave settle around him.
Val stirred awake beside him. Manny had a small smile slipped onto his face as he dreamed and thought about his powers. Val noticed it and thought that the smile meant that he was thinking about the night they had shared in the cave.
She gave him a light punch on the shoulder.
Manny woke with a low, confused groan. "Why are you hitting me now?" he mumbled, rubbing his arm.
Val did not bother to explain. "Just felt like it," she said, though her cheeks turned a little pink. She stood, tightening her furs. "Dress up. We need to go. The sun will be out soon, and we must use every minute of its light."
Manny nodded and rose. They dressed quickly, ate their dry food, jerky, hard bread, a few nuts and stepped out into the pale morning cold. For the next two days they kept moving north. They slept in holes, narrow caves, or anywhere they could hide from the wind. They kept each other warm. They also kept doing their "workouts," as Manny jokingly called them.
On the last morning before reaching the hill, after a workout, Manny felt another shift inside him. Another gift. It was another magic which was Runes. Ancient runes from the Bronze Age of the First Men. The skill was mostly forgotten in the world of men, but not in the blood. Or perhaps, Manny thought, HOT had dug the memory and magic back up from the blood.
He did not try the runes yet. But he had used the knowledge gained from his cold-survival magic and he felt the world giving loads of information. The ground spoke. The trees spoke. Their marks, their shadows, their tiny wounds. The smallest crack in the snow said something. He walked through the forest like someone reading a book he had never noticed existed.
Soon the hill which he saw that day through the Weirwood tree, rose before them. The same shape. The same slope.
A raven which has guided them, circled above and let out a rough, loud croak before flying toward a narrow opening in the hillside.
"That must be it," Manny said.
They climbed. The path was steep and covered in ice and snow but they kept going until they reached the cave. Just as Manny stepped near the entrance, he heard something moving inside.
A small figure came forward who had brown skin, with large golden eyes and a face that looked half-child, half-something else. She was a Child of the Forest. Her hair was like dead leaves, her clothing made from bark, moss, and woven vines.
Val reacted before Manny could even breathe.
The moment the Child of the Forest stepped out of the shadows, Val's hand flew to her dagger. In one smooth motion she had it drawn and stood in a low fighting stance, muscles tense, eyes sharp. She looked as if a single wrong blink could make her strike.
Her shock was clear. She had heard the old stories, the campfire tales told by elders or travellers, but she had never believed the Children were real. To her, they were myths.
Seeing one standing only a few feet away, with golden eyes and skin like living bark, shook her more than she wanted to admit.
Manny reached out and gently touched her wrist.
"Easy," he whispered. "They won't hurt us. They called me here."
Val didn't lower the dagger at first. She stared at the small creature, confused, scared, and amazed all at once. Only after a long heartbeat did she slowly relax her arm, though she kept her eyes fixed on the Child of the Forest the entire time.
She was ready to strike again anytime.
She looked at them without fear. "He is waiting," she said in a thin, clear voice. "Follow me."
Manny and Val exchanged a look, then followed her into the cave.
Inside, the air was damp and cold. The cave stretched far back into the hill, opening into a wide chamber with many small tunnels branching off. More Children were there, at least a few dozens. Most looked similar. Some were younger in size, some older, with sharper features. Their eyes glowed softly in the dim light. Some watched with open curiosity, others with caution.
The chamber was filled with roots which were thick, pale, twisting roots from the great weirwood tree growing above the hill. They crawled down the walls, across the ceiling, and into the ground like a frozen web. The heart of the chamber glowed faintly red from a natural red-crystal stone, or maybe from the roots themselves.
In the center of the room stood the sight Manny had seen in visions.
A man sat, or maybe lived, within the roots. White roots wrapped around his legs, chest, and arms like slow-growing snakes. They pierced his skin in places and vanished beneath the flesh. His hair was long, white as snow, and his face was thin, marked by age and the power of the weirwood. One eye was missing; the other was closed now but he could it being red.
Brynden Rivers. The Bloodraven. The Three-Eyed Raven.
His breathing was slow, shallow. His body barely moved, as if he had become part of the tree. His face was set in a deep frown, as though he was seeing things far beyond the cave, visions, memories, the whole world.
Another Child stepped forward. She wore darker bark armour and carried a staff of weirwood. "The green-seer has been waiting for your arrival," she said. "He will return to the waking world any moment."
The roots shifted ever so slightly around the old man and Hhs single red eye slowly opened.
End of Chapter 17 - Powers and Arrival