The Wyahia

“Yes,” said the old man, staring into the fire, “Hospitality is a great virtue, but you should have a care who you welcome into your house.”

He said nothing for a few moments, and then he spoke again.

“In the north, where I come from, there is a legend of a creature. It is called the Wyahia, which is from the words for wind and darkness in that tongue. It is said to emerge in the long winter months, from whatever dark caves it dwells in. It hates both sun and warmth, but when the sun is gone from the northern sky and the snow is deep on the ground, so that families can not leave their homes for days or weeks, the Wyahia comes out. Its voice can b heard in the wind, as it prowls about the land, as if seeking for something.

“It is cruel. It can sneak into a home in many ways, through a chink in the wall or in the gap under a door. This is why the people of the North seal their homes up in winter, with prayers and blessings, not just against the snow, against the Wyahia. If the Wyahia gains entry to a home, it will begin its work on those within. It can influence their moods and their thoughts and twist them to its will. Whatever it is the Wyahia desires from that family, it will find a way of taking it. And in the spring, when the other families unseal their doors and look about then and set out to visit their neighbours, they will see that this house or that is still standing sealed in the melting snow. There will be no response when the neighbours call out and bang on te doors or shutters. When the door is broken open, the same thing is always found – the inhabitants dead, having fought with each other and slain each other at the behest of the Wyahia. This is not common, mark you, but a few families will destroy themselves like this every winter. Sometimes on is left alive, a crazy, gibbering thing, barely recognizable as the strong farmer or hunter of a few months before. This sorry remnant is killed and the body burned, as are the bodies of all who die in such a way, for their remains are still tainted by the power of the Wyahia’s will.”

“Nonsense,” said Barron, curtly. “You’re wind beast is nothing but the result of people living too long in one place together. I’ve heard similar tales of people turning on each other when they’ve been together too long. Travelers on desert caravans, sailors on ships that can not come to land, or soldiers stationed at forts in hostile lands, like I was. Loneliness and boredom make people lose their heads, not some dark wind spirit.”

“Perhaps,” said the old man calmly. “There are demons everywhere on the earth, after all, and I suppose in the sea as well. But what I am about to tell you is a true story. I know this, for it was me that it happened to.

“I was not raised in this land, this much you know already. I was born far to the north of here, in the land of the Wyahia. In the summer it is not so bad, there is a living to be made from the soil and I is too poor to attract much interest from raiders. In winter, it is a cruel place, when the snow lies deep on he ground so that a man can not walk more than a few feet before he is exhausted. When this happens, the families will seal up their houses, as I described, and live off their saved up food until the thaw. That is the time of the Wyahia, when the snow storms blow down from the north and the wind howls across the plain, bringing ice and snow in its teeth.

“There was a family that lived in the North. There were three of them in the family, a man called Bruin, his wife Cannil, and the brother of Bruin, whose name Alam. Their house – A hurrit in the name of the people of that place, was half a day from the next nearest settlement, in summer. In winter, it might have been as far as the sun is from us now.

“A hurrit is a long house, made of wood and layered on the outside with cured skins. Te roof is made inn such a way so that snow falls off. It is not so unusual in a bad winter that snow will build up over the roof of the hurrit, burying until there is nothing but a lump in the snow. In the hurrit the family would put by as much as they could, in the back room, as provision against the winter. This horde, and prayer was what the people of the North lived on during the winter months when families might be cut off for weeks from all other settlements.”

The old man paused a little while and then continued.

“The tradition of hospitality in the north is very strong. Turning someone away in winter is to condemn them to death. So it is a tradition that none are turned away unless they are a threat, or there is not enough to feed the extra mouth. It is also accepted that if hospitality is extended, you are as a member of the family that has offered it, as long as you remain, and you work as a member of the family.

“A few weeks prior to the real storms of winter, when the weather was already very cold and cruel, as night was falling, Bruin returned from gathering wood in the forest to find someone huddled at the door of the house. The person – it was impossible to see them clearly in the darkness – implored him by gesture and clutching at his arm, to be allowed to come into the house. He agreed. The stranger came into the house.

“In the light, the stranger appeared at first a mass of rags, hunched over and looking about nervously. Slowly, as the heat of the house spread to their cold body, the stranger removed the furs and rags - a wild assortment. Bruin, Cannil and Alam watched with fascination, for there are few strangers wondering the lands at that time of year. And very few indeed as exotic as this traveler. She – for it became clear that the traveler was a woman – had flowing golden hair and eyes of a similar colour. This caused some consternation as the only folk who have such a complexion are the people of Kith, who are renowned as sorcerers and wicked people. But their fears were allayed when they realized that the woman had no tongue. In Kith, it is customary to cut the tongues from slaves. The traveler was clearly a slave, either freed or, more likely, fled, but harmless of and magic. Anyway, with no tongue in her head, how could she speak words to enchant them.

“The other surprise was revealed when the woman had stripped the furs away from her until she was standing in her plain, dirty clothes. A small bundle was bound to her chest – an infant child. Though she could not tell them her story, they could guess at it. The child was sickly and weak, for the mother was so starved that she could barely produce milk for it.

“That night, there was s counsel while the traveler slept. Alam was frightened of the woman and suspected her of tricks and wanted her on her way before mischief visited them. Bruin was unsure, reluctant to take up Cannil’s suggestion. For Cannil wanted them to extend hospitality to the wretch and her child for the winter. Neither man could deny that sending her on her way would most likely be the death of her and the child, and Cannil lambasted them for their lack of human pity. They had food enough, for the harvest had been good and the hunting rich. Eventually, they submitted to her will.

“In the morning, as the mother fed her child, they conveyed to her that she could stay with them. The woman must have learned some of their language, for she understood what they said and wept with gratitude. She had been fortunate indeed – within a week the first snows fell and the winter storms came howling down from the north behind them.

“The woman gave them to understand her name was Danna – or that was what they could make of her untongued attempt to tell them her name. For the first week, it seemed likely the child would die – a tiny, wailing mite of a boy, whose ribs stuck out and whose elbows were the widest part of his arms. He looked barely human, a clutching bundle of sticks, with skin stretch across them so taut it looked like it would split. But in the second week he grew stronger and in the third week – by this time the storms were constant, the snow settled to the depth of Bruin’s thigh outside the door – it seemed likely he would live.

“Danna also grew in strength and helped as best she could with the work of the home in winter – though in truth the work done in winter is more to avert boredom and pass time, as the only important work is the gathering of food in the summer and autumn months. Though she could not talk, she could smile, a warm and cheerful grin that made her strange, face suddenly beautiful. She was quick and agile, and once she had recovered from her ordeal she was surprisingly strong and willing to work.

“Neither man noticed how the presence of Danna wrought changes in the order of the house. Alam was younger by three years, and planned on marrying, but there are few woman in the north and it can be hard to find a match. It was not surprising that he began to feel an attraction towards Danna.

“Alam was the most forward in his advances. As an unwed man, he had no reason to hide his desires. He would work with Danna, and since they could not talk, he would indulge in horseplay and silly, childish games with her, taking every excuse to touch her. He knew that she was a slave, and that she would probably submit to his advances, but he was reluctant to force himself upon her. So they continued dfor some time in a flirtation like two innocent children.

“Bruin watched this develop. He said nothing, of course, but jealousy began to knaw at him. Cannil was a plain woman, and Bruin had married her because there were no others, and her father was a noted man and Bruin hoped to gain prestige through the association. But watching Danna move lithely about the house, her golden hair falling over her shoulders, and the swell of her breasts under the tunic she now wore, playing these silly games wit hhis fool brother, Bruin was filled with lust for the strange slave girl.

“There came lulls in the storms, when it was possible to venture outside. Bruin ordered his brother to go out into the forest to see if there were tracks of moose or other game – a pointless task, as the tracks would most likely be obliterated by snow before a hunt could be organized. He took Danna to work with him in the big shed where more wood was stored. Cannil was to work in the hurrit.

“They worked for a short time, carrying wood to the back room of the hurrit. When Danna returned to the shed, Bruin took her in his arms and pushed her down upon a pallet of furs. Though startled, she did not resist him, and he took her there in the shed.

“This set a pattern, where Bruin would try to find ways to work with Danna. He didn’t know if Cannil knew or guessed, though little work was done when Danna and Bruin were together. Soon Danna started to act more coldly towards Alam and would be openly affectionate to Bruin. Alam, slow to understand what he was seeing, became angry. He would watch the other three with feverish eyes, seeing how Danna might lay a hand upon Bruin under the very eyes of Cannil, and how cannil would merely drop her eyes, as if she were pretending not to see.

“Alam became furious, his suspicion building and strengthening but still not finding voice. At the same time, Bruin became more careless in his tryst. He would reach out to Danna and touch her openly, caressing her hair or her pale skin. At these moments, his face shone with a light that had not been seen in it before, the burning desire of infatuation. Cannil saw, and understood, and said nothing. Alam saw, and his rage grew and his mind became full of thoughts of how he was being made a fool of by his brother, and that he had somehow been betrayed by this Kithish slave-whore. But he was a man reluctant to act and slow of mind – he still tried to believe that he was wrong. Bruin, so it seemed, knew his thoughts and acted to provoke more suspicion with his actions, letting a hand linger too long on Danna’s shoulder, or brushing against her in the view of his wife and brother. He would take cannil noisily at night, as if to drive home to his brother that all the women in the hurrit belonged to him alone, and Alam could only watch and yearn.

“Then one day, a calm day when he had been out in the forest on his brother’s command, he came back to the hurrit early. He could see Cannil working in the doorway of the great shed, at whatever task Bruin had sent her out on. Seeing Alam come home, she came across to meet him at the door, bringing the axe with her from the shed.

Alam met her at the the door of the Hurrit, which was closed. He did not have tmime to say anything to her, for he heard noises that he could not mistake from inside, the inarticulate grunts of Danna and the groans of Bruin, loud enough for Cannil to hear in the shed. Alam flung the door open and saw his brother atop of Danna on a pile of furs, her slayed legs wrapped around him, her hair falling in a golden casacade across the floor.

“They did not see Alam come in. He cried out with rage as he strode across the room. In his hand he bore the axe that Cannil had brought with her from the shed. He swung it wildly at his brother’s back, the blade biting deep into the shoulder. But bruin was a strong man, and rolling off Danna he staggered to his feet, blood pouring from the gash on his back. Alam swung the axe again, this time striking Bruin in the neck, slicing deep, Still Bruin did not fall, but caught the axe as Alam swung it a third time. Even with his strength failing, he managed to wrest it from his brother and swung it, the blade splitting Alam’s skull and sending him crashing to the floor.

“For a moment, there was no sound. Bruins stood, his blood pouring from his neck and shoulder, his brother’s blood and his own dripping from the blade of the axe. His shoulders sagged as the seconds passed and he grew weaker. He looked about him, at the walls of the hurrit, at his wife at the door, his dead brother at his feet, and the golden haired stranger cowering against the wall, cringing away from him. With a final effort, he roared one word, ‘Wyahia,’ and brought the axe swinging down on Danna’s neck. Then he fell dead himself.”

The old man sighed. The listeners made no sound for a time. Then Barron snorted. “A fairy tale. Nothing more than the madness that I spoke of earlier. Danna was no goblin or wind-demon.”

“Indeed, Danna was nothing more than a helpless Kith slave. But she was not the source of the evil. Cannil was the whyhia, the source of death and madness.”

Barron snorted in derision. The old man held up a hand to silence him, then spoke himself. “The Wyahia had waited and watched for what it sought. It is a spirit, cold and dead. It could not breed, but it hungered for a child. Seeing Danna and her child, it brought about the deaths of Bruin, Alam and Danna in the winter. Then, it took the child and fled into the cold caves where such spirits dwell. For I was that child, the child raised by the Wyahia.”