Chrysalis: The Butterfly Fields

Prologue

Darkness shrouds the encampment where Máire sits by the fire that burns with the flames of the ancient days. Wrapped in a wool blanket, she beckons the clan to gather around, Come, come and sit about the fire that I may tell you the tale of Wishing Woman and Dances with the Butterflies. It is the tale of the fiercest battle ever fought within these Lowlands we call home, never to be forgotten.

Máire’s visage bears the passage of time and her body aches with the age of its years. Her now white hair pulled tightly in the traditional twisted knot at the nape of her neck. Even in her aged state, she is the favorite among the children. It is she who tells the legends and lore of the family, the clan, and the tribe.

Huddled together the clan folk take their places upon the logs, their faces aglow in the light of the crackling fire, anxious to hear this tale of which they had not yet been told. Oh, do tell, Máire, do tell us of Wishing Woman and Dances with the Butterflies! a cheery faced young maid exclaims as she sidles up next to the old storyteller.

When the listeners are settled, Máire leans in close to the fire as though to watch the story play out before her very eyes as she speaks. Máire takes a deep breath, resting heavy against the cheery faced maid beside her as she falls deep into remembrance of the story. In the years after the great clan wars, the McCormick Clan reigned all the Lowlands as far as the eye could see from the great manor known as Bainsford. The ruins lie just there beyond the hill, she starts, her boney finger pointing off into the distance. Within the great walls of Bainsford lived the two sisters. It was they who brought the war between He Who Created All Things and He who Rules the Land of Eternal Flames upon the lands, Her gray eyes smile in the firelight as she looks from one to the other to ensure each is attentive to the details of the tale she is about to begin in earnest.

"It is said that long ago, on the northern most edge of the canyons, carved by the Great River, where the sun strikes the sky in a glorious display of burnt oranges and deep sapphires lay the village of Johnsport. It was a village filled with quarrels between the original people, the Daoine Réalta, and the interlopers from the land across the great sea to the east; our people, the na hÉireann, men of science and discovery. The na hÉireann held fast to their belief in He Who Created All Things, yet partook in the sciences of creation; an abomination according to the Daoine Réalta.

The Daoine Réalta, translated to the common language as Star People, came upon these lands millenniums ago with no accounting for the means of their arrival. In appearance, they were a simple folk following the traditions, culture, and beliefs of the ancient days. Yet, deep within the keep of their fortress they kept a secret. It was a secret so valuable, so ancient, even they themselves were unable to lay eyes upon it...lest the guardians lay them low.

As the story goes, a stone’s throw downstream of Johnsport, amongst the mighty oak, silver ash, and cottonwood trees, where the gentle breeze brushes the tall bristles of wheat grass, intermingled with the occasional petals of tiger lilies, crocuses, and wild roses, were freedom, safety, and sanity...The Butterfly Fields."

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Chapter 1:

The heat of the mid-afternoon sun bears down on the Lowlands as Elsie lay daydreaming on the prairie grasses in the meadow of the Butterfly Fields. Images of the magnificent College of Alnae, where all the most learned men and women decipher the equations which have created this world, drift into her thoughts.

Turning on her side, Elsie faces her sister lying next to her on the grass. Elsie places her chin in the palm of her hand and breathes, Annalicia, every blade of grass, every leaf of every tree, and even the waters in the stream must come from somewhere. They must have been conceived by someone. Plucking a stem headed by the tender petals of a tiger lily, she twirls it between her fingers, pausing for a moment to inhale its scent. Even as I sleep in the night, the visions of the great library of the college manifest into my dreams, and I am left longing for the knowledge it contains, she says with an exasperated sigh, returning to face the vastness of the blue sky above her. I have excelled in the domesticated arts of cooking, cleaning, and sewing. My mind longs for more than this. It longs for the stimulation of complexities beyond the average man’s desire. Mháthair must let me go. She must release me from the family obligations until I have found that which I have been seeking my entire life.

Elsie has spent many years perusing row after row of books on the shelves of the library in Johnsport, devouring each with a ravenous hunger for the knowledge it contains. She had been mesmerized by the knowledge of the great peoples who had lived long ago in places she could only dream of visiting. She could not explain it. No one would understand even if she could. Somewhere, in all the pages, between all the covers, the thing that will make sense of her world and the travesties of life must be found. For all the beauty of The Butterfly Fields, the thing is not to be found there. In the Butterfly Fields there is only illusion and the manifestations of a young girl’s mind.

Annalicia quickly rolls onto her side, pulling her face away from the sun, Elsie, why? The question, although already answered, lingers in Annalicia’s mind. She has no knowledge of books or people from far off lands; only the people who populate The Butterfly Fields—the actors upon the stage under her own direction. Slipping her slender fingers into Elsie’s grasp, she becomes silent once more. Although one year Elsie’s elder, a delicate flower in a garden of her own making, Annalicia is but a child in her mind. She is a child, forever trapped in the body of a woman, unable to discern between that of The Butterfly Fields, a place she has imagined into being through her condition, and that of reality.

With a tender squeeze of Annalicia’s fingers in hers, Elsie tries to explain the pain that lives deep within her more clearly, My dear, dear sister, I have heard tales and spent many a day at the feet of the elders, listening to the legends of this great and wondrous God. But of this God, I have seen no evidence. In Johnsport there have been no miraculous deeds propagated by He Who Created All Things; only misery and death. Nay, I know this God is not to be found within the confines of the village, nor in The Butterfly Fields. Pulling herself upright, Elsie searches the depths of Annalicia’s eyes in a desperate attempt to reach her, Dear Annalicia, you have no knowledge of such a being, and could not possibly create one such as He to rule over our land where the butterflies take flight on the soft summer breeze. I cannot willfully wither and die without ever setting out to find that mysterious source that shall save us both.

The village of Johnsport, nestled in the vast drift prairies between the Great Valley and the plateau rising above the Great River, is renowned for its own library. It is a library which houses many secrets of the world bound between the covers of the books scrawled upon the pages therein. However, in comparison to the magnificent library at the College of Alnae, it is dwarfed in size and content. Since first learning of the College of Alnae, a two-day’s journey south along the Great River, Elsie has dreamt of what the library would be like on the inside. She imagines it to be filled with the most splendid objects found the world over, the shelves will be filled with books in every language known to man, and somewhere in the midst of it all, the thing.

Her heart longs for the day she will find freedom from this dreadful village where so many innocents have been lost to science and man. Often she wonders how it is that each week the villagers could pray and sing praises to this great and wondrous God, and the rest of the week they could commit deeds of such a horrendous nature... on children. The scars upon her flesh reflect the barbaric horrors that take place in the laboratories of Johnsport. These scars she has borne since birth have thrust her into a torment unlike any the average man can imagine. And for what, of what purpose does it serve?

Elsie, please. Please do not leave me here among them all alone. I shall not survive. This you know to be true. I know not that which is of The Butterfly Fields, and that which is of Johnsport. I need you, my sister. Please, I beg of you, do not leave me. Sitting up, casting a shadow across Elsie, Annalicia’s frantic eyes search her face for any sign of compassion and understanding.

Elsie knows what Annalicia says to be true. Without Elsie, Annalicia shall be defenseless against those who could seek to harm her, but there is no other option. Elsie, at seventeen years old, must be getting on with the business of building a life for herself, or live alone her entire life just as defenseless as Annalicia at the mercy of the world. Annalicia, if I should stay in Johnsport for you, of what life of my own shall I have? We shall both wither away to naught, and of what use does it serve? Nay, I shall not change my mind.

Elsie, please. Take me with you, Annalicia whispers through tear-filled eyes.

Annalicia, hear me, please. You shall be protected always in The Butterfly Fields. There is naught to be done here that you do not wish into being yourself. I promise, I shall return for you. It is not forever, only but a little while until I find the source of all things. I must find the thing which shall save us both, and perhaps even Johnsport itself.

Sitting with her knees drawn to her chest, Annalicia wraps her arms around her legs and places her head down to pout, Elsie, what shall become of Princess Aria? Without you, she shall not survive. How is it she shall come to me bearing words of comfort in the darkest of days? How is it she shall have tea and crumpets on the oaken stump with me?

It has been years since the first appearance of Princess Aria, a character Annalicia assigns to Elsie when she struggles with the fantasies in her mind and the reality of the world. Princess Aria has always been the one from which Annalicia gains the most comfort. At seventeen years old, it is becoming more and more difficult to maintain the character of Princess Aria; Elsie’s imagination is all but spent, keeping up with Annalicia’s fantasies. Annalicia, dear sister, Princess Aria shall be with you always. Call on her name and she shall come to you in your dreams, or within the confines of The Butterfly Fields. Comfort of her words shall come to you whenever you desire. She is but a breath away from your lips.

Annalicia disappears into the tall grasses of The Butterfly Fields as she always does when the world disappoints her; when Elsie disappoints her. This time Elsie cannot chase after her. Elsie cannot don the mask of Princess Aria and speak words of comfort to her in a situation in which she knows no comfort is forthcoming. She must let her run into The Butterfly Fields and learn to find comfort from within herself. Elsie’s heart aches for her. She wishes she could take Annalicia with her, but how is she to tend Annalicia’s every need and successfully complete her studies?

The Butterfly Fields are far reaching in their depths and expanse. It is a place throughout all the years which Elsie could not understand how Annalicia has created it with such intricate beauty...out of nothing. The lush green canopy of a forest wooded with ash and cottonwood trees, occasionally graced by the mighty oak, filters the warmth of sunlight from the sky above. A stone bridge leads the way over the creek which wanders its way into the meadow where the high prairie grasses dance. The open field bursts with the colors of black-eyed-susans, goldenrod, echinacea, and the morning glories that climb their way to greet the poplar leaves. The Butterfly Fields are a place of peace and harmony. Despite the great sorrow in Annalicia’s heart, the song birds still sing a merry melody from the tree tops. The deer and the rabbits still play a friendly game of hide and seek in the meadow. They know not the depths of Annalicia’s heart. They only know to be what they are, pleasantries in the mind of a child.

Remembrances of our days together in these fields where the butterflies float on the soft summer breeze, where games of imagination and intrigue are afoot, shall remain with me always. They shall serve as my reminder to never forget she is here and to never forget my oath to return for her when I have found the very source of all things, that which shall save us both.

Elsie, her heart consumed with guilt over the decision to leave Annalicia behind, begins to make her way back to the manor house. It is twilight, Elsie’s favorite time of the day. The light is being overtaken by the shadows that slip over the land while it amplifies the green, gold, and violet shades of The Butterfly Fields. Annalicia shall be fine in these fields of butterflies. She shall learn to accept the absence of Princess Aria as I shall learn to accept the absence of my dear sister. One day, one day soon, I shall return for her, and The Butterfly Fields shall be ours to share once more. Until then, I cannot allow this guilt to embed itself within my very being. I shall keep my focus on the task at hand, and be quicker done with it, than if I spend my days wallowing in a guilt that is neither helpful nor necessary. I must begin my journey sooner rather than later, and find the source of all things which shall save my wilting soul and retain dear Annalicia’s connection to the reality of the world in which we live. Elsie's flesh tingles with electrical charges as she steps through the barrier that cloaks The Butterfly Fields from all those who would seek it from the outside world.

Mháthair, would you hear what it is I have to ask of you? Elsie inquires while she sets the dishes for the evening meal on the table. The great hall of Bainsford Manor is enormous for the five people who dine together at one end of the long trestle table; the benches had been replaced by fine wooden chairs long ago. A large silver candelabrum adorns the center of the table, accented by a floral centerpiece filled with flowers from the garden.

Aye, my child, I am always willing to hear what it is that rests upon your heart. What is it that you need of me? Mháthair replies in the softest of voices. Elsie has always loved the tone of her mother’s voice. It is melodic and comforting.

Mháthair, I wish to study at the College of Alnae, Elsie blurts out without giving thought to her haste in words.

Mháthair, gently lifting a work-hardened hand under Elsie’s chin, plunges the dagger like words deep into Elsie’s heart, Nay, my child, it is not possible. There are many duties and obligations which you must bear in the family. I know well of your peculiar need to know many things, but you have the library of Johnsport to satisfy your curiosities. Use it and be glad in it. There are many, even here in the village that has not such a privilege as to read and write. I am sorry, but the answer is no.

Porcelain shatters, scattering across the floor as Elsie’s heart fragments inside her flesh. I shall not forgive you this denial, Mháthair! Never! I only wish to have better than that which you have given me. All of this! Elsie’s arms flail about like those of the rag doll with which she still sleeps, pointing to all the fineries in the room, A home that is not ours! This is not all there is in the world! Elder Morton tells tales of many lands he has seen, and I...I have not been beyond the road’s end!

Silence this moment, Elsie McCormick!  Seanmháthair enters the room with the silence of a specter that has been lurking in the shadows. You shall not speak to your Mháthair in such a tone as this in my house.  Seanmháthair, Grand Matriarch of the McCormick Clan, a tiny bit of woman, stands barely five feet and a few inches, speaks firmly but never reaches an octave above the tone of polite conversation. With her raven hair worn in the traditional knotted bundle at the nape of her neck, and her boney finger with which she points like a wand about to obliterate all in its path, she is a most fierce woman to be feared and respected. Moving with all the poise and grace of a true gentry woman, she waits as Elsie pulls her chair away from the table, enabling Seanmháthair to take her seat.

Elsie’s thoughts run wild with rage. I am a slave in my own house! I am always at the beck and call of Seanmháthair, required to do her bidding, or suffer the withdrawal of any recognition of my humanness at all! It is not fair, this treatment of Annalicia and me, simply because Athair left Mháthair a penniless pauper! It is beyond my comprehension how Seanmháthair can find us at fault for our lot in life. It is not as though we chose to live in her house. It was forced upon us in an act of desperation, an act even Mháthair now admittedly regrets. Despite the anger brewing underneath, Elsie bows her head in submission. The words climb out of her throat like a dry toad as she begs forgiveness for a sin she did not commit. My most humble apologies, Seanmháthair; it shall not happen again. My senses got loose of me in my desire to gain that which is not mine to have.

Placing the fabric of her napkin gently across her lap, Seanmháthair casts her stern eyes into Elsie’s with such intensity, Elsie dares not breathe. It would be a far better decision for you to accept the lot He Who Created All Things has laid before you, and be glad in it. This incessant need of yours grows weary in my soul and I shall hear no more of it. Although your station is far beneath the Bainsford Manor House, I allow you and your...demented sister to live here, affording you the best of everything, asking only but a trite in return. Beggars cannot be choosers, Elsie. Now retrieve your sister from the garden that we may eat in peace.

Elsie nods as she maintains the appropriate downcast eyes and backs slowly out of the room, Aye Seanmháthair. I shall at once.

As soon as she is through the doors of the great hall, Elsie turns to run through the garden. She flings open the gate to make her way to The Butterfly Fields. Annalicia! Annalicia, come at once! Dinner is being served! We must not keep Seanmháthair waiting! she shouts into the meadow, only to be met by an unnerving silence.

There is a certain stillness in The Butterfly Fields, not even the songs of the birds float on the dense air. Elsie enters the tall wheatgrass, advancing further into the meadow. Never before had she felt ill-at-ease in The Butterfly Fields. Something is wrong. Something is ...terribly...horribly...wrong. She moves through the grasses and wildflowers with great caution. Her heart beats in trepidation of what may lay in wait for her behind every tree or bush.

Annalicia, please come out! Seanmháthair is waiting. Where are you? she calls into the stillness that surrounds her. The snap of a twig echoes through the air like thunder. Elsie turns to see Annalicia in the shadows of the trees at the edge of the forest. Annalicia, please come out, this is not the time for games of hide and seek. We must be on our way to the manor, lest Seanmháthair be moved to anger.

What is it you want with me? Annalicia asks as she approaches Elsie with darkness in her eyes unlike any Elsie has ever seen.

Annalicia, it is only time for dinner. Come now. Let us be on our way.

Shaking her head in defiance, Annalicia says, I have no need of your dinner. I have no need of you. Go to your precious college with your coveted books and leave me in peace.

Dear sister, I have been denied by Mháthair. There is no college in my future, only misery and certain death here in Johnsport. The words hang on the heavy air like the silence between lightning and thunder. Elsie reaches a hand out to the sister whom she loves with all her heart, and now loathes with all her flesh.

Annalicia reaches back a delicate milk white hand to grasp Elsie’s. The birds begin to chirp and a rabbit hops across the meadow. A smile forms in the corners of Annalicia’s mouth, the darkness receding from her eyes. They make their way to the garden gate leading to the manor house in silent recognition of their plight, one they would face together.

The sun sets in the west as the moon rises casting a beryl hue across the village. Elsie sits upon the stone ledge above the sprawling grounds of Bainsford Manor under the starlit sky. She knows Mháthair will soon come to snuff out the candles that light her existence, as she does every night.

Mháthair, please beg with Seanmháthair to let me go, Elsie pleads as she begins to rise in acknowledgement Mháthair has entered the room. I have no other option in the whole of the universe, but to leave and find my place in the world; to find that which shall save my dear Annalicia and me from the treacheries afoot in this godforsaken barren land, Elsie continues, turning away to wipe the tears of disappointment from her eyes before they spill onto her cheeks in shame. With na Sionainne, my only friend in the entire world, now gone to the spirit world, I have naught to keep my heart in Johnsport. There is only the heart of my dear sister, Annalicia, which is not enough. Mháthair, how is it I am to save her if I dare not travel the journey to this God of whom all the elders sing praise?

Elsie knows it is disgraceful to speak to Mháthair without Mháthair’s permission to speak at all, but she must make her understand. I know Seanmháthair shall be disappointed, but she cannot disagree. She cannot rule against me. Either decision she makes, I shall do as I will, even if I have to sneak away like a thief in the night. I cannot lie here night after night listening to the flutes of the Daoine Réalta elders floating upon the night winds, wondering if there be more to this vast world than that which comes to naught at the road’s end. I must know these things, Mháthair! I must know all things! I must find this great and wondrous God of whom the elders of my people, the na hÉireann, sing such praises.

Returning to the window ledge, Elsie seats herself and gazes out to the night sky. Ah, sing they shall. They may sing all they like, but thus far the songs have brought naught from this God! No love, no compassion, and certainly no mercy! Elsie’s voice escalates as she rises abruptly from her seat to face Mháthair as she declares, I know all there is to know in Johnsport! I have learned all there is to learn here! I have honed the skills of being cold, hard, and unyielding. I have learned to survive the most awful of atrocities that could happen out there as they have here in Johnsport. Mháthair, I shall surely meet an early grave if I am left to shrivel like the wildflowers of autumn and die in this godforsaken place without ever seeing the face of the sun. Please, you must help me, Mháthair! Elsie implores in her usual dramatic way, her hands clasped at her heart.

Mháthair has always mused that Elsie would make a fine actress on the stage of one of the playhouses in Alnae. She allows Elsie to finish her grand speech while exercising great patience. Mháthair’s face grows somber, My dear sweet Elsie, I know not what can be done. Seanmháthair has set her decision. I cannot argue against a decision that has already been given. I know the longings of your heart. I too was once a young child such as you with fanciful dreams of seeing the world, and where do I find myself? Here again in Johnsport. I wish I had happier news for you, but there is no escape. Wherever it is you travel in the world, you shall always find yourself in Johnsport at the end of the day.

It is not fair to subject me to a life I have no interest in living, without ever giving the opportunity to know more... be more! How can Seanmháthair make such a decision without once accounting for the undeniable fact that I am nearly a full grown woman of seventeen years! I am perfectly capable of tending to my own needs. She has no understanding that I, Elsie McCormick, youngest of the McCormicks, am ready to take my leave from Johnsport. I shall leave you Mháthair, one way or another. I shall not live this life of the inhumane treachery afoot in this place... Elsie’s words trail off as Mháthair raises a hand to silence her.

Elsie, I shall do what I can, but I can do no more. I am at the mercy of the benevolence of Seanmháthair as I am too old to find a husband and bear his children. You know not that which you ask of me. What shall become of your sister and me, should Seanmháthair decide to banish us from Bainsford on your account? Shall I become a beggar woman in the street with naught to peddle but my flesh?

Mháthair, I shall never let that come to pass, Elsie gasps, Of this you can be sure. Come what may, when I return for Annalicia, I shall bring you all that your heart and purse can hold. This I promise you now, Mháthair. Can you not ask for a meeting of the Elder Council to decide my fate? Can you ask at least that much?

Aye that I can do; for as much good as it shall do for you. I shall try, Elsie. Now is the time for sleep. The morrow promises much work to be done to gain the favor of Seanmháthair.

Thank you, Mháthair. I shall always remember this great kindness you do for me. Even if the council shall rule against me, I shall never forget. Elsie smiles and nods to Mháthair as she snuffs the candle and leaves Elsie’s room.

Elsie returns to the window once again and seats herself on the stone ledge. She gazes at the stars that dot the infinite black, creating a world of imagination and wonder. The questions that have haunted Elsie since first she became aware of the night sky flow through her mind. They are the questions that beg for answers, casting aside all longing for rest, despite the protests of her weary body. What is out there? How many stars can be counted, and from whence does their light shine? Nay, how does their light shine so as to reach such eyes of those in the head of one Elsie McCormick, one of countless numbers of creatures known as human beings on the planet called Earth? Is anyone else out there? Is it somewhere...out there...where the home of He Who Created All Things exists?

Contemplations of the night sky, lying on the cool dew drenched grasses of The Butterfly Fields, had occupied many an evening for Elsie and Annalicia. Wonderment had filled their heads with imagination and the stories they told each other. Annalicia’s stories were all much more vivid than Elsie’s own.

Annalicia told tales of far off worlds where the sun and moon did not take turns ruling the day and night. The moon did not exist. There was only day; no sorrow or tears. In these worlds, the whole of all creation sings in unison in adoration of all that is, and ever will be. Glorious beings live upon these worlds; beings which shine with brilliant light, and are filled with unceasing joy.

As she told her stories, it was as though she had somehow traveled to these very worlds of which she told her tales. It was as though she knew these beings on a far more personal level than any ordinary person, such as Elsie, could ever hope to know. Logically, Elsie can only assess it as part of Annalicia’s condition. It is just another manifestation of the world in which Annalicia lives; a world in which only she knows the true limitations. Nonetheless it is what it is.

Chapter 2:

The floors scrubbed and windows washed, Elsie huddles quietly on the stone floor outside the door of Seanmháthair’s sitting room, listening as Mháthair pleads for her. She holds her breath tight in her chest and dare not exhale too loud lest she be discovered, and all opportunities to achieve the goal be lost.

Seanmháthair, I know there is much work to be done and Elsie shall one day become Grand Matriarch, but is there naught the Elder Council can decide to relieve her of this insatiable need for knowledge?

Elspeth, I have set my decision, and the answer is no. Elsie has been given her lot in life as He Who Created All Things has set forth. Is it that you would have me go against Him and bring sure destruction upon the clan?

Nay Seanmháthair, this I would never ask of you, but is it not possible that He Who Created All Things has, Himself, set the fire of desire within her soul? If this be true, then is the risk not the same if you should deny her...and He as well?

Seanmháthair rises from her chair, her gaze cast out the window that overlooks the garden below to another time far and away. She stands in deep contemplation of the question put forth by her only daughter. Elspeth had grown to be a strong-willed child all those years ago.

Seanmháthair’s mind fills with the result of her decision to allow Elspeth to marry Neville, the man she swore would bring pride upon the clan, only to bring shame and disgrace; not only upon the clan, but the entire village of Johnsport. Neville, a liar and a cheat! He was the very source of Annalicia’s condition; the condition which has brought forth much strife between the Daoine Réalta and the na hÉireann. Those days are deeply engrained in the shadows of Seanmháthair’s memories.