Do Not Go Gentle

by Barbara Karmazin

The auctioneer slammed his gavel down. "Sold!" His voice rang out in the empty room. Empty, that is except for the faces in the softscreens inset in the walls all around him, and three battered books displayed on the stand in front of him. "For $750,000, to Lu Wein of the United Chinese Republic, the logs of Sir Walter Raleigh's journeys to the Lost Colony of Roanoke Island."

Not as sizable a bid as Lilith Harker had hoped for, but sizable enough to finance her sisterline for a another decade or two. She laid her hand on the ID panel beside her softscreen, then signed her name on the sensor plate as official acceptance of the sale. A few minutes later, a paper copy of the contract slid out of the slot in her desk complete with the digitized palmprint of Mr. Wein. Tomorrow night, she would personally present the logs to him at a formal ball on the UN Space Station Sanctuary. Another small piece of history transferred back to humanity. She shrugged. But then, humanity's lifespan was so much shorter. That was why they tried so hard to create permanent records. In the last century they went from horses to horseless carriages, from telegraph wires to radios, from telephones to computerized communications, from crude planes to interplanetary spacecraft, and in the process, they forgot so many things.

She stroked the smooth varnished wood in front of her, made of real wood, not plastic, or veneered cardboard. Simple things, like the creation of this desk, were lost as the generations failed to pass on their knowledge. Having a longer lifespan gave her family an advantage. Their history remained in their heads. No papers, no concrete evidence other than themselves for anyone to trace. The things they learned as children never left them. They had a much better perspective of history and knowledge. Too many people relied on paper and computerized information without having the real life experience of actually living through the actual events.

With a final stab of her finger, she clicked her system into standby mode and leaned back in her chair. The muted light screens in the walls cast a warm glow over the grass floor of her bedchamber. Dark tendrils of flowering vinca covered the walls. The pale bedspread on her oversized bed was delicately crocheted from raw silk into delicate patterns of leaves and flowers. The grass felt cool and soft under her bare feet as she walked over to the wall and unlatched the closet panel. The emerald gown would serve as a suitable backdrop for her white gold hair and the silver and moonstone of her womanhood jewels. People would look upon her and wonder, but they would never know how important and vital these jewels were to the history of her family. And, in order to ensure the safety of her lineage, not very many would either.

The children knew. Roan, her caterdaughter, along with Cait and Kevin, her twinborn niece and nephew; they knew their own history. Roan Moonsammy Harker had the dark brown skin and intelligent gaze of her mother. The straight black hair , strong bone structure, height and eyes she gained from her father, Shiloh. Caterdaughter she was because her mother did not wish to live her life out with the Harker family. Her mother had given her up at birth to Lilith to raise. Truedaughter to her mother and father Roan remained, that part of her heritage she could never deny. As Lilith's eldest child, Roan inherited the title of foremother of the Harker sisterline.

Cait and Kevin O'Keefe, were truedaughter and trueson to Brigit O'Keefe, the human woman who had bonded to Lilith's caterdrus, Nathanial and Shiloh. Cait, of course, would inherit as the foremother for this newest sisterline, the O'Keefes. Both Nathanial and Shiloh were named on Cait's and Kevin's birth certificates by Brigit because she chose to honor them both by naming both as truefather. Cait had inherited the vividly streaked red, black and gold calico hair that had not been seen in the sisterline for over a thousand years. The down on her arms and legs was white gold like Lilith's. giving her pale skin a warm, burnished appearance. Kevin was dark of hair, eyes and skin with very little down, very much like Shiloh.

There were so many cautions to teach the young ones. Not to smile or blink around strangers were the first cautions. Fanged eyeteeth and nictating membranes as inner eyelids were the common obvious physical traits they had to conceal. Their longer life span was becoming an increasingly harder fact to hide. So far, none had been born with Nathanial's thick fur. His difference was the most difficult and most misunderstood for humanity to accept.

In all the years of their lineage, the best way to teach had been by recreating the personal histories of their lineage. All the pain and horror of their mistakes were revealed. All the love and strength of their triumphs over adversity were cherished. Thus it was, on that day when Lilith's womb waxed full with her unborn child, Roan, Cait and Kevin had come to her asking questions about drus and caterdrus and how to choose wisely in the matter, that she decided to tell them about Ceara's fateful decision.

In order to tell them about Ceara, Lilith had to become Ceara in the fullest sense of the word. That was the only way to give them the true emotional background of Ceara's experience. How else were they to teach? Each one of them had to be willing to pass on all the emotions of every situation they had encountered, however shameful, hurtful and ill conceived they might have seemed at the time. Giving the emotions intact along with the experiences branded the lessons in the purest sequence on young minds. What better way to learn was there than by reliving their foremother's decisions, both wrong and right, mistaken and corrected exactly in the same mindframe that these decisions occurred?

Thus it was that Roan, Cait and Kevin sat and joined hands in a circle with Lilith as she emptied her mind of all other considerations. She cast her thoughts back to the day when she was a mere child of eight, sitting with her mother and feeling Ceara's emotions recreated once again as her story was told. Dreams and memories filled Lilith's heart and mind.

There were many changes back then in Ceara's time. They had been driven away from Europe and the British Isles by the overwhelming hatreds of humanity. The sisterlines were weakened by diminished by inbreeding, by inflexible customs and mindsets, and by persecution and ceaseless hatreds on both sides. Ceara's crucial encounter with the Lost Colony of Roanoke Island had changed the warf and weave of a basic custom of the sisterlines and infused fresh bloodlines into their ancient lineage.

* * * * * * *

Caera untangled herself from her sweat soaked sheets. Her feet were numb. The cabin felt like it was encased in a block of ice. The moon had risen hours ago. She picked up a heavy woolen cloak and went outside. The night air might help clear her mind.

The dream had been too real, too sudden. A young man's body lay face down upon a beach. Brains and gore stained the sands around his shattered head. Rune was her dru and the killing madness was full upon him. She knew it now. Why did she have to see his deeds? Why did she have to feel him feed upon his victim's terror?

The dry rustle of bushes caught her attention. Ainsel stepped out into the open. She cared naught. He didn't feel dangerous. No longer a callow youth, he was a man in his full growth, broad shouldered and strong. His dark beard was neatly trimmed. His hair flowed in a multitude of tiny plaits down to his hips. His tunic was worn and patched. Deerskin boots covered his legs. Thin strips of leather bound his tunic to his arms and chest and his breeches to his thighs. The bright blue color of his eyes was a startling contrast against the soft brown fur of his face. Ainsel's heritage went straight and pure back to the eldest foremother. He was the last of that sisterline. Yet he was sane and Rune was not. Why?

"Caera." His raspy voice was hesitant and filled with concern. "There is a shadow upon ye."

Caera turned her face away from him and rubbed her hand across the rough bark of a tree. "Aye," she agreed sadly

"Let me aid ye."She shook her head. "It is Rune. He haunts my dreams."

Ainsel dropped his hand and took a step backwards.

"Wait." Caera said. "Walk with me awhile."

His grasp was warm and eager. Mayhap she was a fool. After all he was a lone male. But because she felt no harm from him, she had simply left him become part of her woods. The others avoided her now. Her children were dead. Her dru was mad. When Rune died, his death would claim her also.

To the door of her cabin was as far as she permitted Ainsel. She shut the door in his face without bothering to latch it. If he was of a mind to harm her, a simple latch would not stop him. He had the strength to shatter it with a single blow if he wished.. By the time she stirred the ashes in the fireplace and laid down another log upon the flames, she had already banished him from her thoughts. The fire gave her enough light to see by as she opened the small chest beside her bed. A three legged table, two stools, a narrow cot and a small leather trunk completed the meagre furnishings of her cabin.

She opened the small leather trunk. There would be no sister, no daughter to claim her possessions. A plain tunic, breeches and boots suited her for this final journey. She pulled out the leather strips and bound up her wrists and chest. Even though she had \par no fur upon which the clothing would shift and slide around, the strips were useful as body armor and would strengthen her wrists for the final blow. She pulled the killing sword from the bottom of the trunk and strapped it over her back. Last, but not least, she rolled an extra pair of breeches and a spare cloak into a compact bundle.

The morning light seeped in through the cracks in the shutters as she took one last look around. Let her sisterline end with dignity instead of despair. She spun around on her heel, opened the door and almost crashed into Ainsel. The air crackled with tension as she looked full upon him and realized he also bore a killing sword upon his back and a small pack of spare clothing. "Why?" she asked finally. "Ye are no kin to me."

He shrugged. "There is need." His fanged eyeteeth glinted in the morning light as he spoke. No more than her own eyeteeth. That part of the heritage bred true with all, furred and unfurred. The only difference was that her fangs were slighter and thus not as noticeable as his.

She shook her head. "The need is mine alone. I will end it myself."

Ainsel's stubborn determination leaked from his tight control. "I be alone," He said. "Let me go with ye."

Caera studied his face long and hard. She reached for him. His heart was filled with concern for her pain. Thus it was that he journeyed with her. Having him for a companion assured a swifter passageway. The unspoken assumption that they were a mated pair prevented any attempts by the coastal natives to delay her. A judicious trading of embroidered smallwork with the Croatan tribe they met bought them the information of a new English settlement on the northernmost island of the Roanoke tribe.

One more night remained. In the morning, they would launch the dugout and cross over the island. Ceara could not shake the uneasiness that shadowed her thoughts.Was it because Rune was close by or was it the beach itself? For this beach looked very much like the one where the great ships had floundered when their people first came to these shores. The long weary winter crossing had been bad enough. Racing head on into a winter storm had been their downfall. Cast upon the coastal reefs, the ships were shattered by the storm. All along the beach mindwracked survivors wandered amid the salt encrusted wreckage for their lifeless kin.

That was the last time she saw Rune. Almost ten years ago it was. Yet the pain was as sharp and clear as if it were only yesterday. Alone, with no dru by her side, Caera had helped the others burn the dead, then went on to rebuild the structure of her life all over again.

Caera pulled the cloak more closely about herself. The harsh wind blowing across the beach was damp with salt. She watched Ainsel pile more driftwood upon the fire. He left her alone with her thoughts. She appreciated those small kindnesses.

Ainsel had lost all of his kin that day also. Yet he had stayed to burn the dead. Why? Was it because he was a mere youth at the time? Or, was it because of the old woman? For he had been the one to find Lilith lying amid the wreakage with her legs shattered. He had carried her upon his back until they chose their settlement deep within the swamp. He built a cabin for Lilith. He helped build the other cabins too. When Lilith died a few years later, no one took him in. The fact that he was a lone male with no sister to pledge dru with him made the others uneasy around him.

"Ainsel," Caera said quietly. His name came out like a sigh.

He looked up, dusted the sand from his hands, sat down crosslegged alongside of her and waited for her to compose her thoughts.

"When Lilith died, was it hard on ye?"

Ainsel stared into the fire for a moment. "Her days were numbered. She knew this and we talked long and hard before her time ended." He picked up a handfull of sand and watched it trickle to the ground. "She was ready to go. I held her hand. There was no sorrow. She told me to stay. She said 'twas wrong for me to seek death's embrace without living out the full number of my days."

"But it is a hard thing to be alone."

"Aye, it is. Giving up would have been the easier path."

"I am weary," Caera said abruptly. She rolled over on her side and curled herself into a ball upon the sand. A light film of dried salt crusted her lips as she sealed her mind and heart away from his concern. Rune was her twin born brother. Their dru-bond very strong. Was that why her dreams of him were so strong and clear?

"CAERA!"

"Wh-what?"

Ainsel held her fast by her shoulders. "Ye cried out in your sleep."

She pulled herself up into a sitting position. Thick bile flowed into her mouth. She shoved him away from her, rolled over upon her hands and knees and crawled over to the bushes where she vomited. The fetid stench of half digested waybread stained her shirt. Hot tears trickled down her cheeks.

Ainsel pulled her to her feet and steadied her with his hands while she waited for the shivers to subside. The faint pink blush of dawn stained the horizon. "It was Rune," she said finally. "He held me fast in the dream." She shrugged her shoulders out of Ainsel's grasp and turned her mind away from the comfort of his concern. "We can tarry here no longer. I will put an end to it by nightfall."

The crossing was uneventful. The island was small. An hour, possibly two at the most would be sufficient to circle it on foot. Trees covered half of the island. The rest of it was sand, marsh grass, some bracken, red root, berry bushes and shallow tidal pools with crabs scuttling about the edges. Rabbits, mice, squirrels and a few sqrawny deer ran beneath the trees. A field of stunted corn grew beside the log wall that sheltered the settlement. The English had planted only corn, instead of corn and beans together as the natives would have done. Caera judged the size of the stunted stalks as possibly the 3rd or 4th successive planting without beans to replenish the drained earth.

A single guard sat on a makeshift wooden platform beside the gate of the rough palisade. Salt and pepper hair framed his windburned face. His pale blue eyes were bright with interest above his misshapen nose as he gazed down upon his visitors, one tall and hooded, and the other, bareheaded, smaller and obviously female despite her breeches and tunic. "And what brings you here?" he asked.

Ainsel pulled his hood down and exposed his furred face to the man's scrutiny.

The guard stared at him, then Caera. An off key whistle gusted past the rotted stumps of his teeth as he studied the swords strapped to their backs. "I suspect you are here about last night's business."

"Aye," said Caera. She looked closely at him, then asked. "Why do ye have no fear of us?"

The guard shrugged. "Well, I figure it this way. If you meant any harm you wouldn't walk up to the gate in broad daylight. And by the looks of your companion, the way you're dressed and those swords you carry......." He jumped down from the platform, opened the gate, bowed from his waist and waved them inside. ".........I know it takes an uncommon strength to handle one of them."

As he barred the gate behind them, he said, "I suppose you'll be wanting to see the bodies before you talk to the others." He dusted his hands off upon his pants and waved them on ahead of him to a small shed nestled in the left hand corner of the palisade directly opposite the largest cabin within the cramped enclosure.

Caera chose not to enter. The guard kept his distance from her. This didn't stop his curiosity from niggling and prickling at her edges, but that she could ignore. Just as long as she didn't have to feel his needs seeping into her without her consent.

"Will you be responsible for the child?"

"Wh-what?"

A tall gangly man stood in the doorway. A wild mop of white hair framed his face as he adjusted his spectacles. "Yes, he said. "Now that her parents are dead, what are you going to do about her?"

Caera shrugged. The child was no kin to her.

Ainsel ducked his head as he stepped from the doorway into the sunlight. A grim determination darkened his furred face and tightened the line of his mouth. Aside from these outward signs of his thoughts, he allowed none of his feelings to flow over Caera. He turned and gazed at the large cabin behind the shed.

* * * * * *

Splinters stabbed Caera's back and shoulders. She fumbled with her hand for the latch. It was behind her somewhere. All she had to do was find it and flee this madhouse.

Ainsel stood in front of her, but his hulking form did naught to barricade her from the suffocating battering of frightened humanity wanting her to save them from the horror that lurked outside. The cabin was dark and gloomy, with soot stained walls and windows tightly sealed with wooden shutters. The hot fetid stench of stale fear clogged her senses.

"The Brown Man!" The childish shout sliced through the thick suffocating fog of fear. A tiny girl child with a cloud of dark hair flowing down the back of her white shift darted between the legs of men and women staring at Caera. The child leaped into Ainsel's arms and buried her face in the hollow of his shoulder.

"Brown Man, brown man, brown man......." The words echoed throughout the crowded room like the skittering rustle of dead leaves tossed amid the trees by the a midnight wind.

"Are you Faerie?" one of the women asked softly. Her eyes glowed with wonder and hope. "Have you come here to save us?"

"I care naught for ye!" Caera flung the woman's need back at her. "We are whowe are. We have no magic to save us or ye."

Her bitter words helped sustain the wall of anger she held against these strangers. "We share no bonds, no covenants with ye. Ye gave us many names. Ye named us Fairie, Sidhe, Ban-Sidhe, Vam-Pyre, Selkie, Were-folke and daimons."

"But..."

"Fools!" Caera spat her rage out at her. "Your kind drove us out of our homes. Ye sought us out and would not leave us in peace. Ye drove us out over the ocean. Too many of us died because of ye."

An expectant sigh gusted through the crowd. Their blank eyes fastened upon Caera. Their mouths gaped with incomprehension.

"I care naught for your concerns. I will put an end to the killing and ye will promise not to search us out with cold iron and wooden stakes."

She gazed at the girl child cradled in Ainsel's arms. His happiness sliced through her abraded senses like a poisoned blade. No need for him to carry away a misborn changling from his dru and steal another's baby for her to raise. All he had to do was bring this girl child with him and he would find someone eager to mate with him and claim the child for her sisterline. The latch finally responded to her questing fingers. Ceara flung it open and fled into the sunlight.

Head blind, stumbling away from the overwhelming emotional surge behind her, She reached for the thread of hate that bound her to Rune. Rage was the only thing that linked them after so many years apart. In the back of her mind, there remained a dim awareness that Ainsel followed her. But she cared not.

Rune's blood lay on the ground before her, splattered on leaves, bushes and stone. She found him lying in the debris beneath a fallen tree. His face naught but skin stretched over raw bone. His eyes were blank and unknowing with fever. A musket ball lay buried deep in his bowels. Caera's tears soaked his face. There was no need to use the killing sword. His eyes focused on her and he reached for her with his mind. The last bit of air rattled from his lungs. His body seemed to shrink back upon itself, a withered, empy husk. The deep cold dark emptiness of his death flowed into her as she followed it down to the end.

Cold, she was so cold. Black and dark, someone called her name. No! She would not go back. She was alone. There was no one left behind for her. Why wouldn't they leave her be?

"Caera. I am here. I have a girl child for your sisterline. Please, come back."

She opened her eyes. Ainsel sat on the ground with her and was rocking her in his arms like a baby.

"Why do thee see only one path, the straight path?" he asked. "Why can thee not see the caterway?"

"The caterway?"

"Aye, it is the path that goes catercorner rather than straight ahead." He traced the line of Caera's cheek with his finger. "Lilith spoke to me of this," he said. "We can create a new way, a caterway. I would gladly pledge dru with thee. We will call it caterdru."

Caera reached up and stroked the fangs glittering within Ainsel's smile. Blinded by Rune's insanity, this solution had never even crossed her mind. "Aye," she said.

He nodded and ducked his head shyly. Caera smiled. She knew what he was thinking. If he came back as her dru, the others would permit him to approach them and give them seed for their sisterlines. And, maybe, somewhere down the line, he would find a woman who would choose him as a life partner.

Ainsel helped her stand, then untied the leather pouch from his belt, opened it and pulled out a silver chain and dru-dagger. The silver blade was scarcely a finger's length long. Moonstones patterned the intricately carved sheath. She unsheathed the dagger and pierced his wrist. When his blood stained the tip, she reversed the blade, pierced her wrist also and stabbed the blade deep into the earth between them.

"Born of earth and blood, brother true, I pledge dru morf with thee." As she spoke the words, she reached with her senses into the ground and felt the strong warmth of the earth seep into her body. Rooted in earthsense, she reached for Ainsel. The thin dark thread that had bound her mind to Rune withered away. Her bond with Ainsel would shield her.

Ainsel laid his hand over hers. "Born of earth and blood, I pledge dru morf with thee." As he spoke, he reached for the earth. The glittering thread of his mental touch sank into the earth. through him and linked him to her, heart to heart, mind to mind. Together, they spun their threads into a insulating cocoon against the clamoring needs of others.

Using the sparking stone and tinder from her belt, Caera cleansed the blade. "By blood, earth and fire, from this day forth, I name thee caterdru."

Ainsel sheathed the dagger and hung it around his neck. It would remain sheathed until the time came for him to cut the birthing cord of the next child from her womb. "By blood, earth and fire." She placed the chain about his neck so that everyone would know his bond with her. "From this day forth, I name thee caterdru."

"Ahem..."

Caera looked up at the small group of men from the settlement standing in the shadows behind Ainsel.

"Milady." the guard stepped forward and ventured a hasty bow at her. "We never had a chance to tell you that Ananias Dare shot your friend last night when he found him attacking his lady wife. We were afraid. If a musket ball didn't stop him, then how could we? And as for myself...." There was an unspoken hope written in his gaze.

Shielded by her caterbond with Ainsel, Caera looked upon him.......and she smiled. Her thoughts and her emotions were her own now. She was free to choose who she wished to love without that person's hopes and dreams overshadowing her decision. She had a good 150 to 170 fertile years left in her lifespan. Five or six daughters spaced 20 to 30 years apart from two or three human males would be sufficient to breed a strong and viable sisterline. Her caterdru would always be by her side to raise her children no matter how short lived her mates proved to be.

* * * * * * *

Slowly, they came back to the present. Ceara and Ainsel had created a new way to ensure the survival of their people. The story had been transfered to their descendents.

Roan's hand shook as she unfolded a small scrap of paper. "I printed this out from the library computer," she said. "This is what they have written in their records."

She looked at Lilith. Lilith nodded at her to continue. "Because of the Spanish Armada, they were delayed and it took them three years to return to Roanoke with more supplies. They saw a fire on the beach. By the time they landed, the fire was out and no one was around. When they came to the fort, it was empty. There were no bodies. Everything was gone, tools, windows, doors, floorboards, clothing and food. Three chests of books and papers that had been buried had apparently been dug up already and their contents strewn about the ground. The only clue was the word "Croatan" carved on a tree trunk in the middle of the abandoned fortress. The 117 men and women of that settlement were never found and to this day no one knows what happened to them."

Cait exchanged a conspiratical smile with Kevin. "But we know, don' t we?" she said softly.

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