Forgotten

by P. C. Cast; Kristin Cast

  “You, of course, my lady.”

  “Of course. And that removal will most definitely be bloody and unattractive and quite possibly frightening—though not for me.”

  “Is that why you’re not going out there naked tonight, because you’re not coming back? I didn’t realize. Are there other things I need to bring out here for you? Forgive me! I am not prepared.”

  “Oh, my dear, no. I do not believe for one moment the sprites will allow me entrance so easily—or at least not secret entrance so easily. I am going to take the advice of a—hum, let us call him a friend—and instead of offering to pay a sacrificial price to the sprites for access to the isle and for their secrecy, I am going to tell them that I will complete a quest for entrance.”

  “So, you’ll come back tonight like the four other nights?”

  Neferet studied her handmaid. It was clear that the woman was truly concerned. “It would upset you if I didn’t?”

  “Yes!”

  Neferet touched her cheek softly. “Do not fear. I shall always return to my first and most favored handmaid. Now, it is time. How do I look?” She turned slowly for Lynette.

  “You look like you have already attained immortality. It’s hard to believe a mortal could be so beautiful. That dress is absolutely perfect.”

  “You made an excellent choice.” Neferet smoothed the flawless black material down her body. The dress was simple—a floor-length black gown that hugged every curve and pooled with a long train at her feet. The neckline was high and the only skin visible was her left shoulder and arm, which the asymmetrical bodice left bare, and her long, graceful neck. Lynette had piled Neferet’s thick auburn hair on top of her head so that every inch of her neck was visible. The only jewelry she wore that night was a large silver pentagram that rested just above her breasts. The effect was startlingly sensuous without being vulgar.

  “I was shocked I found something adequate in Inverness. The town definitely has a shortage of couture shops.” Lynette sniffed delicately, as if Inverness had left a bad smell with her.

  “And it was your idea to coif my hair up tonight.” Neferet patted the flattering updo.

  “It is lovely. You should wear it up more. It makes your neck look like a swan’s,” Lynette assured her.

  “Yes, I believe it does.” Neferet’s fingers stroked her skin. Then she became all business. “Now, give me the tray with my offerings.”

  Lynette had placed the tray near their feet while they’d been talking, and she bent to pick it up as Neferet lifted the lantern and began picking her now familiar way across the rocky beach to the waterline.

  “Your offerings are different tonight than the other four nights,” Lynette said as they reached the loch and Neferet took the tray from her that held four bowls.

  “That is because each offering was found and collected by me. It is personal tonight and I want the mighty sprites to understand how serious I am about courting their affection.” Neferet spoke in a clear, strong voice, signaling that she understood they were being overheard and was choosing her words carefully.

  Lynette took her cue readily and asked, “I know each offering has a meaning, though I’m only a human and can’t begin to understand what they are.”

  “Dear Lynette, I can easily explain. I shall begin with my two favorite elements, fire and water.” Neferet pointed to the bowl that held a strangely shaped rock. “The dragon head symbolizes fire.”

  “Oh, I see it now! It does look like a dragon.”

  “Of course it does. And in this bowl is all the sea glass I’ve collected over the past five days. Sea glass symbolizes water and shows that element’s power to mold and change things at will.”

  “The feathers must be for air,” Lynette stroked one of the elegant white quills. “What bird is it from?”

  “A swan. No other feather would do. And this gorgeous piece of Skye marble symbolizes earth.” Neferet pointed at an almost perfectly round, fist-sized piece of white marble that glistened lazily whenever the light from Neferet’s lantern touched it. “And, of course, this loaf of Mrs. Muir’s freshly baked sourdough bread honors all the elements. Though I did not bake it I believe the sprites will appreciate that I offer it to them.

  “It smells delicious,” Lynette said. “Everything seems perfect.” She glanced over her shoulder at Balmacara Mains where Mrs. Muir, Noreen, and wee Denise had taken up their nightly position on the porch to stand witness to Neferet’s glory. “They’re watching, as usual.”

  “Good. Though they live so close to the purest, most powerful form of magick in the world, these past nights they have witnessed more magick than during their lifetimes.”

  “They’re really very lucky,” said Lynette as she fussed with a stray strand of Neferet’s auburn hair that had fallen loose.

  “Yes, yes they are,” Neferet said. “I shall return shortly, dear Lynette.”

  “Your feeder will be ready for you,” Lynette assured her.

  “Excellent. I have a feeling I will be ravenous.” Neferet balanced the tray on her left hip and held the lantern aloft in her right hand. She turned to face the dark loch. “Children, make yourselves visible!”

  The night around Neferet came alive as tar-colored tendrils of Darkness materialized. They slithered over one another, each vying to get closer to Neferet.

  “Carry your mother to the center of the loch!”

  The tendrils hurried to obey, forming a living raft that Neferet strode, barefoot, onto. They didn’t have to be told on this fifth night to anchor her legs—to hold her tightly and safely. They glided out onto the surface of the loch, supporting her with loving care.

  The loch was black glass. Dark and still, it appeared bottomless. Neferet ignored the creepiness of the night. Fear was for lesser beings and not a future goddess.

  As on the four previous nights, Neferet motioned for her children to stop midway across the loch. Facing Skye, she placed the lantern at her feet gently, allowing her children time to properly secure it. Then she stood, holding the bowl filled with carefully gathered swan feathers.

  “Sprites of olde! Spirits of earth, sea, fire, and air!

  As is proper—as is right—I greet you on this

  magick fifth night.

  I begin with air—bringing you offerings rare and fair!”

  Neferet flicked her wrist, tossing the swan feathers above her. A sudden gust of wind caught them and lifted them up, up, up until they were completely out of sight. Satisfied, she took from the next bowl the rock that looked like a dragon’s head with its mouth open, breathing fire.

  “Fire, I honor your power at this dark hour!”

  Neferet threw the rock as hard as she was able, like she was trying to reach the distant isle. With a sound like a lightning strike, the rock exploded in a burst of golden fire.

  Neferet’s full lips tilted up.

  Next, she carefully poured the sea glass from the bowl into her hand.

  “For water I offer this glass, once strong and still—

  now molded by your greater will!”

  Neferet threw the handful of glass up and there was a shattering as it exploded and uncountable shards began to rain down on her. Neferet did not move. She did not cringe or command her children to shield her—and the shards fell all around her, missing her body completely as the water lapped them up.

  She took the last bowl that held the oval of Skye marble in one hand and the loaf of fragrant bread in another. Then, as she bent and placed both gently on the surface of the loch, Neferet intoned,

  “Ancient grains and marble perfect and white; I return

  both to blessed earth this night!”

  Instead of drifting away, the bowl holding the marble and the loaf of bread floated in front of the raft of tendrils like Neferet had placed them on a table. Suddenly they were sucked under the surface as if they had been te
thered to the earth far below and someone had just pulled on that tether line. Neferet straightened and held her arms aloft, embracing the distant island.

  “On this fifth night I seek one thing honest and true

  To meet air, fire, water, earth—each of you.

  I honor your traditions—old and wise,

  Ignored by mortals—forgotten, unrecognized.

  I ask with love and respect

  That my plea you do not neglect.

  I vow to cleave to olde ways; I shall never forget

  See me—hear me—greet me! I am Neferet!”

  Neferet had been determined to stand there in the middle of the loch, in the deep of the night, for as long as it took for the sprites to respond to her—even should that mean she waited until dawn. But her wait was less than the drawing of a deep breath. The night bloomed into life around her.

  From the loch, water sprites broke the surface. They were brightly colored creatures—none bigger than Neferet’s forearm—that looked like they were the product of miniature people mating with ocean creatures. Neferet didn’t think she’d ever seen so many bizarrely placed fins and flippers.

  Above her, more sprites burst into view and flitted around the sky on gossamer wings that framed humanoid bodies. With a crackle that reminded Neferet of the sound a log makes being consumed in a hearthfire, sprites that glowed joined the air fey so that the night around Neferet was lit by magickal fireflies the size of kittens.

  Finally, there was a rush of wind that came directly from the island. It carried the scents of heather and newly plowed fields. The elementals that rode that wind swayed like leaves dancing in the breeze. They too were mostly humanoid with skin reminiscent of bark and hair formed from ferns and ivy. Leading them was a being larger and more fully humanoid than the others. Neferet felt a jolt of shock that she hid as she recognized Oak—the sprite that the vampyre calling herself Zoey Redbird had negotiated with at the stadium—the sprite who had led the others in returning humanity to the Red Army.

  Neferet disliked her already and silently promised herself that one of her first acts as a goddess would be to repay this fey for her meddling.

  But Neferet wasn’t immortal yet, so she tilted her head in a slight bow of greeting.

  “Merry meet, Oak. I did not expect to see you here.”

  “I see you Neferet and I greet you.”

  Then the sprite went silent, her big eyes trained on Neferet. The vampyre quickly decided that what she had intended to say to the sprites wouldn’t be wise now. This sprite knew her—had already said that she knew Neferet had not followed Nyx for decades. So Neferet threw off the mantle of half lies and prevarications she had planned to use to coax the sprites into doing her will.

  “I see you and happily greet you too, Oak. I am glad it is you speaking for the sprites.”

  “Why would seeing me again cause you gladness?”

  “Because it was your actions that turned me to the path that led me here. When you called the Red Army an abomination and returned their humanity to them I understood my mistake, and I came here to correct it.”

  Again, Oak said nothing. She simply hovered silently as the other elementals flew around her, no longer gamboling playfully; the tension between the sprite and Neferet had acted like a mute button. The vampyre, now thoroughly annoyed by the sprite’s behavior, kept a careful hold on her temper and continued.

  “My mistake is the same one being made over and over again in the modern world.” Then it was Neferet’s turn to wait silently, patiently, while the sprite’s indifference warred with her curiosity.

  As Neferet had anticipated, Oak’s curiosity won.

  “And what mistake is that?”

  “Being ignorant of the ancient ways.”

  Oak cocked her head, birdlike. “For many centuries the wielding of Old Magick has been discouraged.”

  “Yes, I know. That is the mistake I mean to correct. I present myself to you and the rest of the sprites as a student of the ancient ways. Old Magick has been shunned for far too long.”

  “You do this with the approval of Nyx?”

  “Nyx gave no edict warning vampyres from using Old Magick, correct?” Neferet held her breath waiting for Oak’s response. She was fairly certain the Goddess had not set forth any rules against Old Magick. Not that Neferet would’ve heeded or even paid attention to any such rules.

  “Correct. The taboo against Old Magick came from Sgiach many centuries ago when she formally declared herself Queen of Skye, the Great Taker of Heads, and Protectress of Old Magick.”

  Relief flooded Neferet. “Protectress or jailer?”

  “No one jails us!” Oak’s sharp teeth glistened.

  “Well, it is true you come and go as you wish, but are you remembered? Understood? Honored?”

  “Here and there offerings are still left for us, especially in the Highlands.”

  “Bowls of cream like you are cats?” Neferet made a rude noise. “That is not the proper way to honor such as you. Would you not like more?”

  All around Oak the sprites stopped their muted play and skewered Neferet with their sharp, intelligent eyes.

  “Humans do not like us—nor are we overly fond of them.” Oak smiled fiercely, exposing more of her pointed fangs. “And they infest the modern world.”

  “What if humans no longer had a say in whether you’re liked or not? What if vampyres became your protectors—on and off Skye—and they were educated about Old Magick and the fey—how to honor both—how to remember both—how to wield both?”

  “Interesting … though the Great Taker of Heads would never agree.”

  “I wasn’t aware that you had to obey Queen Sgiach.”

  Oak’s dark eyes appeared to expand—as did her mouth and the razor-tipped fangs she bared at Neferet. “Sprites are not ruled by queens!”

  “Then you also are not loyal to them,” Neferet said. “If Sgiach no longer reigned there,” gracefully, she gestured to the distant island, “what would that mean to you?”

  “That a younger, stronger queen usurped her throne.”

  “And that would be fine with you?”

  “We only interfere in mortal affairs when abominations exist.” The sprite moved her moss-covered shoulders in dismissal. “We care not who sits on the throne of Skye. So, that is what you ask of us—that you are allowed entrance to Skye to study us and to usurp Sgiach.”

  “You’re partially correct. I would study you elementals, but also Old Magick in general. As to Sgiach—I would prefer to avoid her completely while at my studies. Your queen and her people should not know I am on the island.”

  “Again, Neferet—fallen High Priestess of Nyx—sprites have no queen.”

  Neferet bowed her head, hiding her victorious smile. “Apologies. I will not make the same mistake again.”

  “You speak with power and guile, but what payment do you propose to make for entrance to our isle?”

  Neferet felt a rush of emotion as the sprite’s voice fell into the singsong cadence that signaled the fey’s willingness to make a deal.

  “For studying on the island in privacy—”

  “Ssssecrecy.” The sprite hissed the word ominously.

  Neferet shrugged nonchalantly. “Semantics. For studying on the island secretly, I offer a favor.”

  “Favor? Payment that is not. Return when our price demand is not an afterthought.”

  Oak turned away, but Neferet’s silky voice drew her back.

  “Yes, favor—and that favor would be more than a simple payment of blood or jewels or even a hecatomb of cattle.” Neferet loosed her own fierceness and she felt her children swell in response, causing her living raft to create waves in the loch. “In the future, when I have supplanted Sgiach and control vampyres and humans alike I will open Skye’s gates and grant you freedom in any land I ru
le. I will make my own edict, and it will be that Old Magick is revered as it should be and wielded by those wise enough—brave enough—strong enough.”

  Neferet had every sprite’s attention. They hovered around the raft, bathing it in preternatural brilliance.

  “That is the favor I will grant should you agree to hide my presence from Sgiach. But to gain access to the isle itself I must, of course, pay—by amusing you.”

  At the words amusing you the demeanor of the sprites changed again. They wriggled around Oak, darting here and there, reminding Neferet of jubilant puppies.

  Neferet had never particularly liked dogs of any type—especially not urinating, defecating puppies.

  “Amusing? It cannot be seen what you could possibly mean.”

  Neferet wanted to shout her victory as Oak’s words fell back into a rhyming pattern. Instead she smiled graciously and continued.

  “Give me a task to complete—a quest to finish—a riddle to solve. I will do any and all simply to amuse you!”

  The sprites rushed to Oak, swarming her as they chattered with trills and clicks and whistles. Neferet watched and waited—sure now of her success.

  Oak lifted one hand and made a cutting motion. Every sprite went silent. Then she met Neferet’s gaze and spoke the binding words that meant the fey agreed to her terms.

  “Here is what you must do

  to be allowed entrance to our isle, secret and true.

  Two tasks you must complete—

  Difficult and bittersweet.

  To move forward in the present as you ask

  You must first kill your future and past.

  Do you agree to this deal between thee and me?”

  “I agree between thee and me,” Neferet’s voice filled the air around them.

  “Then our deal is sealed—so mote it be!”

  “So mote it be!” Neferet echoed.

  With a sound like wind whipping through autumn leaves, the sprites dissipated, leaving Neferet alone with her children.

  “Return me to land my darlings. We have much to do and much more to celebrate!”

  As the living raft swung around Neferet reached up and loosed her hair so that it flew around her like flame—almost as bright and beguiling as the vampyre’s victory smile.