Nastas contemplated what she had said as she continued to shuffle around the hut.
“Why then can the Nemeton not use their magic to reverse the darkening? Could they not remove the taint as they have done man’s magical link?” Nastas inquired.
She smiled. “Young one. For all of their power, the Nemeton are as bound as we are. Bound to duty, bound by blood oath to uphold a balance. No matter how hard they try, none of them could ever act to interrupt or end the balance.”
“But if the balance keeps us in a constant state of conflict, without true peace, how can it be good? Do they not want peace above anything?”
“Peace? There can be no growth in peace. Take our people. Do you see them attempting to better themselves? Do they strive to live great lives? Peace breeds weakness in the hearts of men. That weakness can be exploited by far darker evils in this world than man alone. Man and Fae will never be at peace, for they were never meant to exist at the same time. It is only because of man’s folly that the Fae were even called into existence. Without their difference, without there would be no need to exist at all.”
Her lessons always challenged his mind. He had been with her no longer than an hour and she had already stretched his mind to the breaking point. He remained silent contemplating what she had said.
“Strange that they would grow this spring. And bear fruit no less. So close to the time of the Great Festival... I wonder,” she paused and gathered items from around the hovel.
“Something vexes thee, mistress?” Nastas inquired.
The Enchantress continued to hustle about the hovel. She grabbed a silver chalice and filled it with water. She collected a small shard of lapis lazuli and a candle. The Enchantress cleansed the shard in the water of the chalice and lit the candle. Nastas watched as she meditated on the flame. She clasped her hand around the shard and closed her eyes as she chanted.
May the truth I seek
Be revealed to me,
Hidden aspects come into the light,
For I invoke the Goddess’ sight.
She pricked her thumb and pressed it to the shard repeating the chant. Afterward, she walked to her desk and unrolled her map of the dominions of Hyperborea and the old empire of Atum. The map had been revised over the centuries but the Enchantresses and shamans of the tribe had left the ruined cities of their ancestors intact. She placed stones upon the corners of the map and repeated the chant before dropping the shard to the map. The shard of lapis lazuli fell from her hands like a feather, floating through the air. Nastas watched with curiosity. The shard came to rest hovering upright upon the black tower of the City of Penitent's Vow.
“What does it mean mistress?”
The Enchantress’s eyes had glossed over in white. Nastas had seen this many times before as she had scryed. Her body shook, and she groaned as she used her sight to look upon the outside world. Slowly she stopped shaking, the pupil’s of her eyes returned to full color.
“The dark city,” she mumbled. “Something sinister stirs within its walls.”
“The Fir Bolg were defeated, they could not rise again so soon could they?” Nastas recounted.
“Indeed, they have not. Yet now they stir and their leaders seek to place someone in the Seat of Man.” the Enchantress affirmed. “This mustn’t be a surprise only to me, the fairy King will be aghast by this news. If war is to occur between man and the Fae once more we are all to be affected.”
“Mistress you once mentioned you believed the sky people to be the descendants of the men who went over the edge of the world. Are they not adept in the magical arts?”
Nastas spoke of the three-hundred-year voyage that the Fir Bolg had taken across the void of the waters. They had been chased out of every dominion of men, and in their wandering had disappeared. They were gone for so long that many believed they had fallen off the edge of the world. This common belief was proved wrong when the Fir Bolg broke open the seal guarding Hyperborea. They had inexplicably broken the bonds of magic cast over mankind by the Nemeton.
“They possess a magic, but not of this realm. It is a foul and perverted art, only known to the demon kings of Atum. It is something the Nemeton does not suspect. An art they have most likely forgotten. Whatever dark force leads the Fir Bolg, these sky men, the Nemeta are not prepared to contend with. This has repercussions for us all.”
“Mistress, how do you mean? Those of us within the sanctuary will not be affected by the happenings beyond the seal. The Goddess will protect…”
The Enchantress interrupted him, “The Fir Bolg broke the seal of Hyperborea, what makes you think this seal will guard us for much longer? We are the last to hold the key to Atum's return. The Nemeton would destroy us, the Fir Bolg would use us. Neither course is preferable. If our blood fell into their hands, their power would be manifold.”
“But the Goddess,” Nastas interjected.
“The Goddess does not always have our best interest in mind. It is best you understand this simple fact. She is our Mother, and she cares for her children, but she has other aspects, parts of her are darker than Atum ever achieved. She is capable of atrocities you cannot even imagine.”
Nastas didn’t comprehend what she was telling him. He had always known the Goddess to be amiable, a guardian and protectress of his kin.
How could she be both a creator and a destroyer, He wondered?
“That question is not meant to be answered by the minds of men. It is a question with an answer far beyond our means.”
Her power never ceased to amaze. He felt her inside his mind. He grappled with the concepts she was presenting but he was having trouble rendering the into an actionable process.
“This sanctuary as you call it, you see it as a refuge do you not?”
“It is said to be so in the legends of our people,” he replied.
“Where many of our folk see a refuge, there are some who view it as a cage.”
Nastas was shocked by the insinuation.
“But how could that be so? The Goddess has sheltered us from persecution and hidden us from the Nemeton. Why would she betray us?”
The Enchantress stopped for a moment and placed her hands on the shoulders of her apprentice. “It is not that I believe she would betray us. The Goddess has been a shield in our darkest times. Yet, her will has many faces, and not all of them are compassionate. If the Fir Bolg bring about war between the Fomorii and the Fae, we will be caught between a war that will rage for centuries if not millennia. We must be ever prepared. Our survival is paramount.” She paused.
Without warning, she slipped back into a trance. Her body shook violently. As she shook, she mumbled in the voice of another.
“Not long... blood... Spear of the Morning Star.”
“No, not yet. It cannot be so soon? He is not made ready.” she said in her normal voice.
The voice returned. “The seal will fall. None shall be left alive. Acquire the Lia Fal and join it with his blood.”
She collapsed into the arms of Nastas.
As she came to he looked into her eyes. She had become as a mother to him. Nastas had forever been unsure why his parents had not wanted him. She had taken him as one of her own, but she had never revealed much of his past. He had asked many times, but each time she had rebuffed his inquiries.
“Enchantress, what do you need?”
She smiled. “I am fine Nastas, a chair will do.”
She took a deep breath and regained her fortitude. She looked at him.
“It is time you know why I chose you to be my apprentice. Why I have treated you as though you were my son.”
Nastas sat down, his attention fixed on her. He was confused. Why was she now revealing such things?
“On the morning you were born, I was out collecting herbs to soothe the birth pains of your mother. A new moon was upon us and thus I sensed the child would be sensitive to the magic of the old age. I made my way back to our village, I was struck with a vision. A vision so powerful it remains with
me to this day as clear as the present moment. Before me stood a druid holding in his hands the book of the old blood. He opened the book, and from its pages, a song graced my ears. The song told me of a future time when a man would redeem itself. The druid said there would come a shifter who would take the form of a fox. Into this shifter, I must impart my knowledge and guide him to the ancient land of Tara. It was within this shifter's destiny that the redemption of mankind would come to pass.”
“A druid in the sanctuary? But that cannot be?”
She laughed softly, “My dear there are a great many things that can be, only a handful of things cannot be. It is what he said that led me to adopt you as my apprentice. It is why your parents left the sanctuary and surrendered you into my keeping. Our people have long feared the time when we would be exposed to the outside world. To the hate and persecution of the Fae and their Nemeton. I have long sought to understand what the purpose of our continued existence is. To no avail. But I have grown to trust one thing. ¨
“What?” he replied.
“That it is not my destiny to know that purpose, it is yours to discover. Perhaps the time has come.”
Nastas listened. She picked up the black grimoire from her desk and handed it him.
“Open it and read.” she commanded him.
Nastas did as he was told and opened the book. His excitement was stunted when he realized the pages were full of a script that would take a lifetime to master. He could not read a single page. Nastas stared at the pages, perplexed. He thumbed through the pages frenetically, showing his utter confusion.
“What?” he queried.
“Some things cannot be taught through symbols on a page. Some things, my dear Nastas must first be experienced.” she said.
Then it hit him like the white waters of a spring river as the Enchantress sang.
Souls stretch through time itself,
As does the elastic mind.
All our knowledge unto thee,
Souls and Spirits mote it be.
His mind filled with knowledge she possessed. The song had bewitched him. His eyes rolled back as he took in her memories and that of those before her on and on to the beginning of their tribe's bloodline.
"What is happening to me?" he lamented as his body felt like it would explode.
From her fingers, eyes, and hair a white energy emitted. It floated through the air in streams and sunk into his eyes illuminating every question he had ever had and feared to ask her.
“See all I see. Know all I know. You hold inside of you the last vestige of hope for our people young shifter. You hold in you the power of the trickster, the fox, the ability to outwit your opponents at every turn. Trust in your totem and know together you can sail across the winds of the otherworld and grasp the knowledge that hangs from the branches of the tree of life.”
The energy dissipated. The inside of his head was now filled with more information than he knew how to deal with. He felt overwhelmed by the weight of the yoke placed on his shoulders. The Enchantress saw the fear in his eyes and sought to comfort the youth. He was catatonic, unable to process what had just happened to him. Gone was the boy she knew, reborn into something beyond his wildest hopes and expectations. He was now understanding that a gift of this magnitude was also a burden of immeasurable weight. She handed him a sweet confection made from strawberry and rhubarb and a cool glass of water for him to ground himself.
“It will take time,” she said breaking the silence. “Time and dedication. And more years than you have to grasp the wisdom of our ancestors. None, not I, nor any that have come before me have ever grasped it. Nor should you even try.”
Nastas sipped the water and swallowed the bite of strawberry tart. He came to and smiled.
“So, I am a shaman,” Nastas stood tall before her, proud of his accomplishment, while she shook her head in disbelief.
The Enchantress laughed, “No child, you show great promise, but you have a long road ahead of you before you can ride the hedge and call yourself shaman. You will not lay claim to all I know until I too pass from this world. It is up to you to complete the journey. Your decisions in that journey will determine if you will carry the burden of our people.”
“What journey?” Nastas questioned. “To the spirit world?”
“No child, we must leave the sanctuary at dawn. Our journey takes you to the city of Tara in the north, across the cold seas to a land most ancient.”
Nastas could not believe her words. “Are you mad? None may leave the sanctuary! If even one of us leaves, we will all be killed. As soon as the seal breaks the Nemeton will know where we are! What you are asking me to do is not only suicide it is madness.”
“There are still many things you have yet to learn Nastas. Look around you. What do you see in our tribe? Do you see greatness? Do you see purpose?”
Nastas shook his head. He did not see the purpose at all, he saw wayward souls who were more interested hiding than in performing what it was they were born to do. Still, he could not fathom what would happen if the veil was broken. Would the Goddess herself come and smite his kin? Or would the Nemeton swoop in and slaughter them all? He would be the only one left alive. The last part of a legacy dating back to before man recorded history distilled into one man. It could not be so.
“It is so,” she knew his thoughts. “Do not worry about your kin. We have dwindled to a mere handful, one-hundred, and forty-four souls. We are specks of dust on the cosmic scale my son.”
As the words escaped her mouth Nastas felt a pang in his chest. He had never known love outside of the kindness she had shown him. She had never called him her son, he was always her apprentice. It was bittersweet to hear how she felt and to know he would most likely never see her again. Inside him, the young man who existed brief moments before cried and clamored for an outburst. However, the wisdom that had flooded him overrode his feelings, the stakes were higher than they had ever been.
“I will do as much as I can to save them, but you are our future. In your blood lies the key to breaking chains. We will leave at first light with the blessings of the Goddess upon our journey. Carry with you all we are and let your heart guide you. Now you must destroy any piece of evidence that would suggest that you have lived here amongst us. No single trace of you must remain. Once the Nemeton searches this place, they must not know you were among us. If they find anything they will find you. You must meet me at the edge of the wood at dawn, and we will prepare your way.”
Nastas shook his head in agreement and left the hovel. Before his eyes, a few of his kin milled about the wood. He watched them carefully with his new eyes. A tear formed in his eye, for as he gazed upon them, he knew she was right. They were of no use to the Goddess, nor to man, they were but vessels for the blood that ran in their veins. Blood that would and could be used against the Goddess. Nastas could not allow this, he knew in his veins was the safest place for such power, and no one would relieve him of that refuge.
Chapter Twelve
Nastas, the pure blood Apostate
Flee or fight?
What’s wrong, what’s right?
Decisions made by break of light.
If it would be his final night among his kinsmen, he would be sure to enjoy their company. As darkness fell upon the wooded sanctuary Nastas said his goodbyes. He did not inform them he was leaving, but he made peace with the decision to leave. He’d never known any other life, and now he was called upon to leave it behind. It was not at all how he imagined. The adventure of leaving now seemed like a terrible burden. Something ate at his conscience. The Enchantress had been so cold and calculating in her decision.
Though he agreed with her moral judgment, he felt as though there was another path. There was also the strange voices that called to her in her trance. The voices did not appear to have his people’s best interest in mind. Sure there were cosmic consequences, but Nastas perceived that if the most helpless people were so carelessly cast aside, then what was the point in any of i
t.
The Enchantress assured him they were making the right decision, and he had little evidence to prove otherwise. If it would cost the lives of his kinsmen, he’d ensure that their legacy would be a great one, not the wasted hedonistic lives in which they’d indulged.
He watched as his kinsmen took their drink and smoked their smoke. He wondered how they continued this senseless existence. Perhaps it was a way to medicate the internal struggle. He had no close friends among them, but he knew them all by name. They danced around the fire, singing songs and telling stories of the age when men lived without fear. In their stupor they fashioned themselves after the kings of old. They wore crowns and fine robes and acted as lecherous old men would. Few of them were worth saving, but deep down Nastas didn’t believe it was his place to make such damning judgments.
“Damn it all,” he said taking a pot of elderberry wine and drinking the entire draft.
He danced around the flame with his kinsmen for what seemed like an eternity. In these final hours he came to know them as he had never known them before. He cataloged their stories and knowledge within his mind. He preserved them there, in the recesses of his mind. There they would live on in his dreams or memories. He gave each of them a hug and kiss upon their cheeks before retiring to his hut. The others continued their revelry until the dawn broke.
Nastas rose from his bed before the rising of the sun. The night granted him little rest, most likely a combination of dread and excitement for the coming dawn. He wrestled with his task throughout the night. Each item he tossed into the bonfire he created tore a part of his past from his grasp. His Mistress warned him that nothing could remain, those who would come to dispose of his kin would be as ruthless in their pursuit as they would be in their cleansing. He thought of the many peaceful people he had known for his entire life, and how they would not understand what was happening. He was sure they would believe the sky itself fell that the end had come for all of creation. They’d become so disassociated with reality that they would not know what had come for them. For the last hour his mind stirred with options, ways he could save his kin, but none of them checked out. The knowledge he absorbed from transference of power had increased his wisdom, his ability to reason, and his understanding of his purpose.
Nemeton: The Trial of Calas (Hallowed Veil Book 1) Page 14