The prophecies of two ancient bloodlines converge when the Wolf Clan of Aria finds the fabled passage through the North Gate, surviving months traversing the arctic icescape in discovery of the New World, presaged to be the land that shall host their greatest glory. But this world is only new to them, being home to native tribes equally as ancient, manifested of the Mother Spirit whom gave birth to being, Her realm rich in spiritual magic imbued in the lush landscape, protected by primordial forces as old as time itself, formed from the fiery crucible in the heart of the Great Mountain. When the dreams of the son of the invading Arian warlord come alive upon glimpsing the daughter of the Mahwah medicine man, forces long awaiting their union are unleashed upon the land, triggering a war for the future of all.
The prophecies of two ancient bloodlines converge when the Wolf Clan of Aria finds the fabled passage through the North Gate, surviving months traversing the arctic icescape in discovery of the New World, presaged to be the land that shall host their greatest glory. But this world is only new to them, being home to native tribes equally as ancient, manifested of the Mother Spirit whom gave birth to being, Her realm rich in spiritual magic imbued in the lush landscape, protected by primordial forces as old as time itself, formed from the fiery crucible in the heart of the Great Mountain. When the dreams of the son of the invading Arian warlord come alive upon glimpsing the daughter of the Mahwah medicine man, forces long awaiting their union are unleashed upon the land, triggering a war for the future of all.
Zande, son of Makunah, chief of the Mahwah Tribe, the great fishers and hunters born of the spirits of the forest and mountain whom have gifted them this realm, has been in love with Kylen, daughter of medicine man Wahuchu, for as long as he can remember. Where once he wanted only to demonstrate his superiority amongst the youth, his passion for the unparalleled beauty of the Mahwahn has consumed him, turning him away from youthful interests.
A natural athlete, tall, strong, leanly muscular and bursting with life, Zande was as active in his adolescence as any of the new generation. Since then heâs become Wahuchuâs apprentice. And while, normally, his apprentice is chosen based upon certain qualities that only a master medicine man may detect, Zande was essentially forced onto Wahuchu for political reasons. Zande feigned interest in learning the secrets of the forest and mountains, and his princely position is such that his interests must be honored, if not celebrated. And while Wahuchu senses an unsettled spirit dwelling within his new apprentice, and suspects that his interest in the spiritual arts is disingenuous, heâs nevertheless been informed by the spirits during his visions that the ambitious boy is central to the future of the people.
So it is that, in theory, Zande is now dedicated to learning the lessons bestowed by the forest spirits; to listening to and translating the wind-borne whispers of the forefathers whom most cannot hear; to gathering, grinding, mixing and administering the medicines the spirits buried in the bark, leaves, flowers, roots and branches; to cultivating awareness of the magic that may be summoned from every river stone. For, even though, as future chief, Zande may take Kylen for his own when he comes of age in a year, he cannot hold her gaze, and has a great need of her approval. That means that she must love him. And that, in turn, means Zande must love what her father loves. For Kylen loves her father above all, and so Zande must cultivate the magic she and Wahuchu practice together.
Chief Makunah, meanwhile, is preoccupied with two things above all else: the mercurial temperament and obstinate obsessiveness of his only son, and the arrival of the blonde-haired, fair-skinned, long-shipped savages from the north. The Mahwah people have grown strong under his leadership, and it is these two factors, the impulsive son lost in lust, and the brash invaders, whom pose the greatest threat to their happy continuity. Numbers increasing, their people live in a network of villages lining the coastal waterways, densest near to where the northwest corner of the peninsula touches the bay, set just within the protection of the forest; a confluence of woods and waters so rich in food that they know no hunger. While there have been rumors of violence among east bay tribes, Mahwahn discord with neighboring tribes of The Great Bay has been minimal since the Great Counsel a decade ago. Now, the arrival of the unwieldy, hulking fair-skinned tribe threatens to unsettle the peopleâs priceless, fragile peace.
Countless scouts report sightings of the light skins coming in on their longboats, and their encampment near the mouth of the Turquoise River to the south. Theyâve been seen by hundreds, mostly without their knowledge, for the Mahwah blend with the forest as bark blends with trees, such that only one with trained eyes may see them. Word of mouth returns to the chief and elders on a daily basis. Itâs been said that the aliens wear the hides of wolves, wield impressive weapons and have no fear. So theyâre being watched, and tested. Play arrows have been fired, and the fleet-footed in the tribe have been tasked with periodically letting-go of the stealth that theyâre reared to practice and employ, purposefully showing themselves, all in order to measure the reactions of the pretend wolves. Thus far, the âWolf Wearersâ appear to know nothing but aggression. A band of uncivilized brutes, they seem to be.
But theyâre big brutes. Like one-and-a-half times the size of most Mahwah. And, amusingly, they couldnât be easier to track, lumbering through the evergreen in their white and grey furs as if the land is theirs, like they want to stand out and have no reason to fear anything, and everything and everyone must run from them, else or bend to their will. âWait until they plod into a brown bear den,â several amongst the people have joked. This arrogant stomping through the forest has, in fact, led several elders to predict that no confrontation will be necessary, for the predators protecting the woods shall surely kill them. In line with this popular assessment, many amongst the people, including two of those same elders, are already pushing for their extermination, claiming that theyâre like the blight that takes the trees. And yet, Makunah agrees with Wahuchu. Their arrival brings the realization of The Moon Child Prophecy.
For long has it been said that a woman born of the purest spirits will come to the people, known by her great beauty, her crystal-blue eyes and her natural gifts of plant magic. It is said that, together with a man from another world sailing in on massive boats carved with the likeness of strange beasts, sheâll give birth to twins, a boy and a girl, who, upon coming of age, will usher them into a future of unparalleled peace and prosperity, carrying them past the great mountain and into the âInland Treasures.â It is said that, through her, the ancient blood of the Mahwah will bind to ancient blood from across the sea to make a new blood of great balancing, symbiotic strength, and which shall seed the continent and bring about an era of great prosperity for the future Mahwahn. Yet, this will only come to pass if she survives the assaults of the modern Mahwahn, and if he summons the strength to pass through the eye of oculus and rise up reborn on the other side. Kylenâs conception is now legend, the herald of the age of the moon reflecting off of the water-bearer set in the stars.
Born eighteen years past on the Spring Equinox during a full moon at precisely that time of the year when the Mahwah celebrate the onset of the bounteous, life-giving growing cycle, she was taken from the mountain itself. Found by Wahuchu in a cave halfway up, he was called by the most sonorous of voices, in a dream, to retrieve her there; a voice which Wahuchu himself has been unable to forget, saying that it plants a seed of desire in the heart and loins which no man may overcome. The same voice had whispered to him in his dreams ever since he was a youth, when he himself was an apprentice to the great Xaxu, he who taught him the ways of wise partnership with the Great Mother, and told stories of spirits mingling with men, saying the oldest stories predict the peopleâs fate.
There are three versions of this particular tale. In the oldest, most popular telling, Moon Face has no father, and was, instead, immaculately conceived through a spell cast upon a lost Mahwahn woman by the fairies of the forest, those tiny, flighted beings little bigger than dragonflies whom few claim to have seen. They are said to be the purest of spirits; the most direct manifestations of the Great Mother, revealing themselves only to those with great destinies, called upon for holy missions. Upon her birth, tended to by the fairies, they placed her in a consecrated cave concealed in the mountain for the people to retrieve, demonstrating their love of the people by giving them the gift of the brighter future which her holy birth represents.
The entrance to the cave in which she was found was hidden by the sacred âFairy Flower,â a low-lying plant with sword-shaped leaves, reproducing through a short-lived spring flower that sparkles in the moonlight, offering up perfectly white, tiny, spiked blossoms that only another pure spirit, the White-Dusted Moth, or âIce Dancer,â may feed from, and only under the light of the full moon, which makes the Fairy Flowers shine like stars. The Fairy Flower grows mostly at altitude in the vicinity of ancient spirits whose energy feeds it, else in hidden pockets of the forest under the protection of the fairies themselves, and is said to bestow great power when properly harvested, prepared and consumed. The making of its magic is known only by the master medicine men, for itâs said that, were the secret to be known to all, the balance that keeps the world just would be broken. Some say that her mother died during birth due to the stress of making a magical being, others say the fairies took care of her mother, hiding her in the mountain where, feeding upon the Fairy Flower and other magic, and uncovering the protean secrets of the skin walkers, she became the Wild Woman of the Mountain.
The second version of the tale says that Moon Child, called Kylen by her people, is purer even that the fairies, and fell from The Creator in the sky, materialized by Him directly, and was caught by the birds during her fall, and laid upon the mountain to be guarded over by the Wild Woman, whose job it was to watch over her people below, and to find suitable guardians for the rare beings brought to her. These âpuristsâ contend that the Mahwah are descendants of spirits whom make themselves to resemble men and women so as not to scare the people whom they guide. But Wahuchu himself attests to a different story altogether.
The great medicine man of the Mahwah says that after being called to climb the mountain in a dream, he was told by his then master, Xaxu, that he was being ushered towards a great, albeit painfully-difficult destiny. The spirits had identified him as the protector of the peopleâs future, but required of him a great sacrifice. To keep the people safe he would be made into something unnatural; a creature of darkness shielding the light, made to suffer for the sake of others. The offspring that he and the Wild Woman would bring into the world would equally represent enslavement and salvation, and yet salvation will only be possible through his own great suffering. For in order to save the light he would have to give himself to the darkness, his form remade to serve goodness through evil.
It was under these foreboding circumstances that Wahuchu reluctantly heeded the call of his dreams. He reports that, upon approaching the mountain eighteen cycles ago, something took hold of him, like heâd been spellbound. He became lightheaded, then euphoric and, as he climbed, his energy expanded such that he was scaling steep cliffs with ease, knowing no weariness while having visions of a beautiful spirit, which he felt to be the very source of his people, binding him in an erotic spell. In ecstatic anticipation, he was engorged throughout his climb. And as his elevation increased, Wahuchu had felt a lust mounting within him that was impossible to ignore.
At the same time his mind seemed to levitate, making it impossible to determine the reality of what he was experiencing. While his memory of the encounter remains hazy, Wahuchu claims that a white light caught his eye about halfway up the mountain, whilst walking the ridge of one of its lesser peaks, calling him towards a pool filled by a tiny waterfall trickling down from the snowmelt above. He says that the stones encasing the pool were covered in a shimmering white moss that heâd never seen before and hasnât seen since, and that, as he approached, the Wild Woman of the Mountain was harvesting it. Nude and with her back to him, she was the most striking woman he'd ever seen. Tingling and trying to avoid the urge to pounce, he barely contained himself whilst, watching, she placed some of the moss atop the coals of a low fire nearby, immediately triggering the release of a loudly hissing steam, which she stood over and began inhaling, most of it spreading over the water and hanging there, as if waiting.
Normally a temperate, level-headed man, even in his youth, Wahuchu was, at that point, already bursting with an uncontrollable lust that he felt himself losing control to. She turned and smiled at him, her hair blacker than the blackest granite, smooth and shiny, some hovering about her head, some hanging past her waist. Her eyes were the same color as the moss; pure white, and beaming as if from another world, reflecting the radiance of perfect skin that shined like the moonlight. Her breasts were bountiful, and yet looked to float, even as they didnât touch the top of the pool in which she stood. As his caution lost to his lust, he crept to within reach of the perfectly splendid creature when she exhaled a huge cloud of vapor from the Ghost Moss. Upon breathing it in, Wahuchu says that he was overtaken by a type of insanity, and knew only sexuality. He now calls the smoke-strewn spell âthe kiss of virility.â
They made love all the rest of that day and night. Wahuchu says that he could see and understand the stars and their messages for the first time, many of which shuddered and took flight as they insatiably consumed one another. He says that, though then being a stout young man, she was far stronger, and took command. Any time he attempted to move her into his desired position she struck a corrective blow with a lash made of Red Cedar, and took over again. For hours upon hours this continued, his frenzied sensuality balanced only by her power, and her whipping course corrections. By the next morning, when he awoke somewhere far further down the mountain, in its foothills, in a bed of ferns, he was covered in bruises, gashes and lashes, his body streaked with red. He could see where sheâd drug him down from the mountain, over rocks and limbs and pinecones. And yet, despite his pain and bewilderment, he was more satisfied than heâd ever been.
Yet another version of the story is a combination of two others and, in effect, claims that parts of both are true. Its adherents say that Moon Face is actually a descendent of the fabled ancient chief Hechu, savior of the Mahwah during the Great Floods, whose daughter, after being called to and impregnated through the spell of the fairies, gave birth to the Wild Woman of the Mountain. While this daughter, Primera, would return to her people and lead them as a rare matriarch upon her fatherâs death, she left her child in the care of the fairies as a show of fealty to the Great Mother. Itâs said that this daughter of Hechu had, herself, been a type of shaman; that she knew of the power of all the plants without being taught, purely by instinct, and that her giving birth to the Wild Woman marks the convergence of human and spirit, whereby the Mahwah were first inspirited by the Holy Mother.
Some Mahwah call Primera âThe Mother;â she whose progeny whisper to men in their dreams, pulling them up the mountain so as to spread the holy bloodline. Her offspring come trickling down the mountain, like pure spring water, held in the arms of the few men whoâve proven themselves worthy of the responsibility of not only procreating and bringing her offspring to the people, but of training them in the ways that proved them worthy of making love to her in the first place. It is this ancient tradition of brewing the blessed that has lifted the people out of their barbarism and placed them on an ascendant path. Wahuchu may have met her, skeptics say, but canât have been the source of the seed of Moon Child, for The Wild Woman surely wouldâve killed any man who tried to pollute her holy womb, she being the bearer of the immaculately conceived through the spirit of The Creator.
She mustâve, nevertheless, identified Wahuchu as a worthy protector of her holy progeny, and may even have cast the spell resulting in his remembrances, calling him back up the mountain nine months later to retrieve the glorious gift. Whether that gift, and the intruders, are of the prophecy, only The Wild Woman can know, and only time will tell. What is known is that, when the wise are called up the mountain by the great spirits, whether by the Wild Woman or otherwise, the tidings tend to be auspicious. Not long after his retrieval of his daughter, Wahuchuâs own mentor, Xaxu, was himself called up the mountain, never to be the same, though not in a way that everyone found fortuitous.
Upon returning after being gone a fortnight, he spoke no more words, saying nothing the rest of his many days, just smiling and bowing at everyone and everything, including every form of life which he encountered, animal and plant, child and elder, spending most of his remaining years sitting upon various locations of the shoreline with the sun on his face, paired with a big grin. And even today itâs claimed that, upon returning from being on the mountain for half the moon cycle, he never ate another bite of food.
One story says heâd been with the Great Mother herself, for only she could totally free a person from fear and hunger, and make him feel unthreatened by even the brown bear. Many members of the tribe claim to have seen him remain still with his eyes closed as the fierce spirits of protection peacefully passed him on the shoreline, often with cubs in tow. One Mahwahn even claimed that heâd seen a particularly enormous male stick his massive snorting snout right in his face, then lick him and lay down beside him, leisurely stretching out in the sun for a while before then ambling away, and Xaxu didnât move an inch.
And, to the annoyance of some, he no longer saw the need for work of any kind, nor shelter, even, spending many a night starring up into either the stars or the rainclouds, with equal interest. Many made jokes, saying heâd follow a butterfly all day like one of the simplest of children. Yet most begrudged him not his âdetachment,â saying heâd earned his âecstatic setting sun yearsâ after decades of honorable healing service and spiritual guiding of the people. Besides, these same commentators would add, some powerful spirit had clearly come over him, or had entered into him, for it was evident that heâd lived that way not by choice, but because heâd been thunderstruck.
When he was found dead it was just that way, sitting with his legs crossed on the bluff looking west towards the setting sun. All in all, the people took both his life upon return and the manner of his death as a good sign; a sign that heâd been shown a future of such unspeakable bliss, with all the mysteries of the universe illuminated for him, such that he had no more fear for his peopleâs prospects, and was troubled by no ignorance, or knowledge of evil outcome, and that his wise pupilâs reception of the child could only mean that the Mahwahâs own spring lay ahead.Â
This was a difficult book to rate. It has several strengths but also disadvantages that can't be ignored.
I'll start with the type of reader Old Blood would most appeal to, as it really is powerful, well-written literature in its own right. If you adore epic tales that are highly descriptive, steeped in real-life and fantastical lore, and a homage to tribal history and culture, specifically Native American and Norse, this book is a must-read. For maximum impact, you should take your time and pour over the story's intricate details and insights.
The plot revolves around a prophecy, specifically the cultures and individuals it lures together, resulting in conflict and change for everyone. Romance, nefarious schemes, grisly battles, magical creatures of light and darkness, and existential messages contribute to a viscerally thrilling story.
Unfortunately, this core plot is overpowered by a series of lectures on various concepts and folktales, many barely relevant to the story trying to unfold. This narrative choice constantly removed me from whatever action or character development was taking place. As a result, many chapters felt like they were progressing in fits and starts. By the end of the book, even though there were many intriguing scenes and dips into different characters' psychological evolution, I can't say I felt anything for them or the story.
Objectively speaking, Old Blood is impressive in its shrewd exploration of tribal society within a deliciously fantastical setting. It's a must-read for educational purposes, but its storytelling misses the mark. Trying to fit so many cultural and intellectual messages in this one book impaired its reading experience, which is the defining feature of any book of fiction.
What it comes down to is this. Old Blood is a beautifully written, compelling, and scholarly fantasy novel, but it's not for readers who like a nice flow from scene to scene and to be fully engaged and invested in the characters' internal worlds and struggles. This is literature with quite a specific target audience, who should nonetheless find this a great read.