by Nicola Shill
Gita was now sitting upright with an excited expression on her face. ‘Can I ride the dragonfly, Garris?’
Garris’s gaze flicked to his sister and back to Cassandra. ‘She’s looking sunnier than I’ve seen her look since the accident.’ He shrugged. ‘There’s nothing to lose by trying, nothing else has helped and we’ve tried everything we can think of. I know my parents will agree.’
He smiled at Gita. ‘Of course you can, sweetheart.’
Cassandra found herself thinking that if Garris had called her sweetheart in that tone of voice, she would be as enamoured as Gita evidently was. He looked back at her and smiled a warm, friendly smile that was almost as good. But Cassandra didn’t miss the watery sheen his eyes had taken on.
‘Let’s give it a go.’ He slapped his palms down on his thighs and pushed himself out of the chair.
‘Oh, well. I haven’t got the saddle yet. Ilvi was going to ask the artisans. I don’t know if she has.’
‘Let’s go for a walk and see. What do you think Gita?’
Gita was already on her feet, ready to go. Garris was right: it was impossible to refuse her anything.
While Garris and Gita waited for the saddle to be made, Cassandra went for a ride on Cupid. She flew all the way out to her boatshed and back, but knowing that it was their last time took the joy out of it. She didn’t know how much Cupid understood, but she spoke to her anyway. ‘Cupid, Gita needs you more than I do now, so I want you to look after her for me, okay?’
She was almost back to the agora when Lorcan swooped in to fly alongside. ‘Garris told me what you’re doing.’
Cassandra couldn’t tell from his tone what he thought about it. Was he planning to talk her out of it? She turned to look at his face and was relieved when he smiled.
‘I missed you last night,’ she said.
‘I’m sorry. But you know I work mostly at night.’
‘Surely not every night?’
‘Cassandra, don’t do this.’
Do what? Miss you? Want to spend time with you?
They had flown out into the open air above the agora and Cassandra was tempted to circle back around into the bush to continue the conversation, but Garris, Gita and Ilvi were standing on the ground waiting for them.
Any question that Cupid understood what was going on was answered after Cassandra dismounted and Cupid kept flying so close behind her that she was bumping into her. But when Cassandra lifted first the saddle, and then Gita on to Cupid’s back, Cupid stood still and let it happen.
At first, Cassandra thought everyone had been right when they had said Gita was too young for this. Although Cupid was a small dragonfly, Gita struggled to sit astride her. She kept slipping to one side or the other and sliding right off. With perseverance and some adjustments made to the saddle by Garris, they eventually managed to make her stable. The next task was to teach her how to use verbal commands and pressure from her knees to direct Cupid. As Cassandra had thought, Cupid was a good dragonfly for Gita to learn on. She was patient and forgiving and understood what Gita was trying to do. By the end of the afternoon, a smiling Gita was able to fly her dragonfly slowly home to be met by tearfully overjoyed parents, now grateful to Cassandra twice over.
Lorcan walked Cassandra home. ‘It’s a good thing you’ve done, giving Cupid to Gita.’
Cassandra tried not to cry, but it was difficult to prevent tears escaping from her eyes and impossible to sniffle silently.
‘Come here.’ Lorcan stopped walking and pulled Cassandra into his arms. ‘You’ll still see her all the time with Gita.’
Cassandra welcomed his comfort and nodded into his shoulder.
‘I know it’s not the same.’
‘No, it’s not.’ She pulled away. ‘But in some ways it’s better. I couldn’t have given her to anyone else, but I know it was the right decision. Cupid is absolutely the best dragonfly for Gita, and I’m happy to have been able to do this for her. In a small way, I feel that I’ve made amends for what happened.’
‘You didn’t need to make amends,’ Lorcan said.
On their way past, they dropped in to sit with Ith for a while and tell him the happy news.
— CHAPTER 70 —
Outrage
‘The ceremony is private and personal. It’s also dangerous, both for you and your paladin. There’s a very real possibility it could kill you both.’
Zabeth had come down from her mountain this morning and moved into Eerin’s house. She would remain in residence there for the weeks prior to the transmutation ceremony. There was much to discuss, much to learn and they were working towards a deadline. Eerin had already explained that the ceremony could only take place on the night of the winter solstice – the longest night of the year and a pivotal part of the annual cycle: both an ending and a beginning. It marked the completion of the decline into winter and the start of lengthening days, new growth and renewal. It was a time for old paths to end and make way for new paths. For a human with fae blood, the winter solstice was particularly significant because it was the one night of the year when they were especially receptive to transmutation – also both an ending and a beginning.
This meeting with Cassandra, Eerin and Oonnora would be the first of many.
‘I want to make it clear, Cassandra,’ Zabeth continued, ‘that you don’t have to undergo the transmutation if you choose not to. We have accepted you back as one of us because of your fae parentage. That’s unconditional and permanent, whatever decision you make.’
‘But I won’t be fae if I don’t.’
Three heads shook ‘no’.
‘And I’ll age at human rate.’
Eerin and Oonnora nodded. Zabeth added, ‘We know you want to do it, but you may change your mind when you understand what’s involved.’
‘Don’t you think I should?’
‘Zabeth, Eerin and I are here to support you in this,’ said Oonnora. ‘We want you to be successful. But it’s risky and it has to be your decision.’
‘And the risk is proportional to your level of doubt,’ Eerin warned.
‘You don’t have to make any decision now,’ Zabeth said. ‘For the moment, it’s enough that you know no one is going to make you go through with it.’
‘That being said,’ added Eerin, ‘your humanity seems to be contagious. I think the sooner you fully embrace being fae, the better.’ She stared meaningfully at Oonnora, who frowned back at her. ‘How long did you give her?’
‘Two years.’ Oonnora shrugged. ‘Maybe two and a half. Just long enough for Cassandra’s wings to grow.’
‘Gave who what?’ asked Zabeth.
‘Oonnora gave …’ Eerin began, but Oonnora rushed to tell the story herself. ‘Learning to ride a dragonfly enabled Cassandra to integrate more fully into our way of life,’ she said. ‘The dragonfly that Ilvi trained for Cassandra to ride would have died while Cassandra was away in the human world, so I decided to keep her alive in hibernation. When Cassandra returned, I woke the dragonfly up and extended her life for two years. And it’s lucky I did because she’s been given to Gita and has probably saved her life.’ Oonnora gave a satisfied nod.
Zabeth frowned at Oonnora for a few seconds, but then turned to Eerin. ‘Are you concerned about ongoing effects?’
Eerin shrugged. ‘I’m concerned about the welfare of the dragonfly. Extending a life is not the same as rejuvenation. But I suppose as long as it is only for two years and it doesn’t happen again.’ She turned to Oonnora. ‘I would have preferred you hadn’t done it, Oonnora, because it goes against everything we believe and weakens our objections to the way humans tamper with nature, but I am pleased with the result. I think you should have put it to the council before you acted, though.’
‘The council wouldn’t have allowed it,’ Oonnora said.
Eerin nodded.
Cassandra felt awful that Oonnora was being chastised for doing what had been a huge favour for her. And there was no probably about it: having Cupid to ride had ce
rtainly saved Gita’s life. In the grand scheme of things, how much difference could it make that one dragonfly had been given super longevity? Cupid didn’t seem to mind. Gratitude to Oonnora made Cassandra determined to rise to her defence, despite her fear of Eerin and Zabeth. ‘Don’t we tamper with nature every time we build a house, or ride a snake, or even pick a berry?’ she asked. Oonnora’s gaze was appreciative, but she subtly shook her head, telling Cassandra not to involve herself in this.
‘You know it’s not the same,’ Eerin said, and Cassandra’s courage fled. ‘We won’t even extend our own lives. Imagine the consequences.’
Easy for someone with a thousand-year life span to say. Cassandra wasn’t sure if she hoped Eerin would detect that thought or not. Probably not.
‘Okay.’ said Zabeth, apparently satisfied that the matter had been adequately dealt with. ‘Where were we? Oh, yes, Cassandra, you should take some time to decide whether you want to be transmuted.’
Cassandra knew she wouldn’t change her mind. She’d come too far, turned her back on her human roots. That was permanent now, for better or worse. But it was only a first step. At the moment, she felt ambiguous, neither human nor fae, and without the transmutation she would remain in this undefined state. Also, there was still the problem of ageing.
Suddenly, the door banged open and Lorcan strode in. He scanned the room and his angry expression hardened to thunderous. He turned the full force of it on Zabeth.
‘You didn’t tell me you were meeting this morning.’
Zabeth spoke to Lorcan as though he were a recalcitrant schoolboy. ‘I’ve never notified you of my activities and I don’t plan to start now.’
‘I had a right to know.’
Zabeth raised her eyebrows and shook her head imperiously. ‘I disagree.’
‘Well, I disagree with your disagreement.’
Oonnora and Eerin gasped. Zabeth rose to her feet. Even in the daylight, her aura was now glowing visibly: a blinding golden cloud, flashing purple flames and glittering menacing sparks. Lorcan stepped backwards, almost falling over a low table. Cassandra pushed back into her chair, trying to make it swallow her. Zabeth looked like a marble statue of a Greek goddess that had been doused in kerosene and lit. Her eyes drilled into Lorcan with a fiery intensity until he muttered an apology and dropped his gaze.
‘I don’t require your approval or your subservience, Lorcan, but I deserve your respect and I will not accept less.’
Lorcan nodded but didn’t raise his eyes. Cassandra would never have believed it possible to see him cowed, certainly not by a little old lady. But Zabeth did not, in any way, resemble a little old lady now, even though her aura had abated to an indistinct glow and occasional flicker. She sat back down. Lorcan remained standing. Cassandra was struck, for the first time, by how young he was. Events had forced him to grow up fast, but he was still a teenager (or centenarian … whatever they called themselves), albeit on the cusp of adulthood. Her heart went out to him, standing there not knowing what to do with the myriad emotions assaulting him. Previously, his strategy had been to avoid emotional situations and deny any feelings he had. Where that was impossible, he converted unwelcome emotions to anger. Now Cassandra had come along and inadvertently forced him to acknowledge intense emotions. She’d caused him to compromise some of his most strongly held beliefs which had been bound together by his resentment and hatred of humans. At a lighter moment, she would have been proud to know that she was the catalyst of his reform, but right now she was wondering if he would break under the stress. And it would be all her fault.
‘This is none of your business, Lorcan,’ Zabeth said quietly.
Lorcan’s eyes flicked to Cassandra. His chin lifted and the old Lorcan was back, just like that. ‘I want to be Cassandra’s paladin,’ he announced.
Oonnora gasped.
Eerin tutted her tongue.
Zabeth sighed tiredly. ‘Sit down,’ she commanded in a tone that betrayed the irritation beneath her mask of patience.
Lorcan sat down, and for a few moments, the room remained ominously silent. Lorcan stared at Zabeth. Zabeth stared at Eerin. Eerin stared at Oonnora. Oonnora stared at Cassandra and Cassandra stared quizzically at Lorcan.
Evidently, Lorcan’s announcement was remarkable in some way.
— CHAPTER 71 —
The Wrong Answer
It was Cassandra who spoke first.
‘Would somebody please explain to me what a paladin is, exactly?’
Zabeth’s gaze slid to Cassandra, bounced away to fire off a glare at Lorcan and then returned to Cassandra.
‘It’s time I explained the ceremony to you fully, Cassandra.’ Another quick glare at Lorcan for good measure. ‘As I was trying to do before.’ She settled more comfortably in her chair.
‘The ceremony, we have said, is secret, but not for the reasons you might be imagining. It’s secret because it is very private for the participants. It’s traumatic, intensely emotional and extremely personal. It’s a judgement of courage, but also of the ability to relinquish control and accept dependence. It’s a test of faith, but also of aptitude. It’s both death and rebirth.’ She paused while the magnitude of her words sank in. They were sinking like a pile of burning rocks into the pit of Cassandra’s stomach. ‘The ring of fire serves two purposes. First, it’s an intrinsic part of the ceremony: the instrument of judgement and the cause of death. It also provides privacy.’
Cassandra was getting spooked. ‘Who’s death? Mine?’ she asked. ‘Do you really mean death, or are you talking metaphorically?’
‘No, real death, Cassandra,’ Zabeth answered calmly, as if she was saying, ‘real orange juice’. ‘But not yours, your paladin’s.’
Cassandra’s eyes widened in panic and swung towards Lorcan. The expression on his face staring back at her was difficult to read, but it was certainly not shock, or even surprise. It appeared to be acceptance … and determination. ‘You’re right. I don’t want to do it. I didn’t realise someone had to die for me.’
Oonnora reached over and laid a comforting hand gently on top of Cassandra’s. ‘Wait until you hear the rest.’
Zabeth continued with her explanation. ‘The proselyte …’
‘That’s you,’ said Oonnora.
‘… and paladin stand in the centre of the agora, and a circle of fire is ignited around them. The flames are very high, so no one can see within. The circle of fire contracts inward and would kill a human, but the paladin protects the proselyte at the cost of his or her own life. That’s where faith and courage come in for both proselyte and paladin. There’s a higher purpose to the paladin’s death than merely saving the proselyte’s life. At the instant of death, the quiddity of the paladin …’
‘That’s their essence,’ said Oonnora, ‘everything that makes them fae.’
‘… is transferred to the proselyte, who becomes fae as a result.’
‘But now the paladin is dead,’ Cassandra finished.
‘Yes,’ agreed Zabeth.
‘Can a healer resuscitate them or something?’
‘They’re still inside the ring of fire, remember, so no one else can help,’ Zabeth pointed out. ‘That’s where you, the proselyte, must undergo a test of aptitude. You’re now fae, so you have healing abilities. You must use those abilities to revive your paladin.’
‘Does it have to be death by fire? Why not something less isolating, like poison or … or a bash on the head … something like that?’ Cassandra noticed Eerin laughing quietly to herself and scowled at her, but only inside the safety of her own head. The look Eerin sent her reminded Cassandra that her head wasn’t as safe as she liked to believe.
Zabeth answered the question as though it was entirely reasonable. ‘The transmutation fire is no ordinary fire. It is the manifestation of psychic energy from every fae who contributes to it, and the paladin draws upon it to effect the transfer. Some of it will be passed on to you.’ Zabeth nodded at Cassandra. ‘Without it, you’d have no chance
of being able to revive your paladin; your new healing skills will be far too immature. The transmutation energy compensates for that.’
‘You get to experience super-charged fae powers,’ said Oonnora with a smile.
Zabeth nodded. ‘For a short while.’
‘Okay, that sounds good.’ A lie, actually: Cassandra could see far more room for risk minimisation. ‘So, once the transfer has been done, with my new psychic abilities, I could contact you to put the fire out and then you could all help me revive my paladin.’ It sounded sensible to Cassandra; she couldn’t understand why no one else had thought of it.
But Zabeth was shaking her head. ‘No, as I said, it’s no ordinary fire. Once the fire is lit, it’s impossible to extinguish. It burns itself out only once it has contracted completely into its own centre.’
Cassandra needed to understand if this really was as dodgy as it sounded. ‘So he dies,’ she pointed at Lorcan, ‘I save him,’ she pointed to herself, ‘and then the fire runs over us and kills us both.’
‘No,’ said Eerin. ‘Your paladin dies, you revive your paladin, and then your paladin flies with you out of the circle of fire and saves you both.’
‘What if I can’t revive him?’
‘Then you’ll both die,’ said Eerin.
Zabeth frowned at Eerin. ‘It wouldn’t be a test if it was a sure thing. If you haven’t absorbed enough fae quiddity or transmutation energy, you won’t be able to do it. Even if you have, there’s still a very great risk.’
‘But that’s up to you and your paladin,’ Oonnora explained. ‘At the moment of death, complete transfer is dependent on both of you being able to entirely let go of control and fear and have perfect trust and faith – in yourselves and in each other.’
‘So you can see that your paladin needs to be very carefully selected,’ said Eerin. ‘It has to be someone who is devoted to you to such a degree that they’re prepared to give up their life for you since there’s no guarantee they will survive. They need to trust you, and you must trust them. If not, one of you may draw back at the critical moment to save yourself. Then the other would certainly die.’
Oonnora was nodding. ‘You have to love each other.’