Equinox (Augarten Book 1)

by Charlie Godwyne

  "As long as it takes for me to regrow you."

  "So…my soul is inside this tree because my physical body fell apart and you are regrowing me, right? Why didn't I just die like a normal human? Did this happen during that nightmare?"

  A long pause. "Do not concern yourself with those nightmares." Then Augarten's voice left.

  Again, I felt like I should be panicking. "What about those other questions…"

  Without any other companions, I took to talking to my tree. It clearly didn't understand human language, but I could feel it listening to my emotions and the vibes I gave off. When my mood finally settled, the tree seemed satisfied with that, having brought things back to equilibrium, though now it was hungry from the energy expenditure, and drank in more of the sun through its leaves.

  Once I ran out of things to talk about, after reflecting on how I felt being trapped inside a tree, my attention turned to that book I was still reading from the library, and I told the tree about The Cosmic Doctrine. Each chapter had so much symbolism to unpack, and in the process of explaining the first chapter to the tree, I remembered that I had understood the red cloud in my dream vision as an archetype, an accumulation of human energy surrounding an idea. When that realization flashed into my mind, I felt a bit of confidence return. I didn't remember any of it, but I had some practice in this type of contemplation already, somehow. Reading difficult texts and working them out through brainstorming and following lines of reasoning where they might lead…that had to be something I had engaged in quite often before I lost my memories.

  The tree delighted in my curiosity, wrapping a soothing warmth around me. Finally, I felt some measure of safety and allowed myself to trust, both Augarten and her tree, to take care of me. I refused to think of the implications of Augarten regrowing me, a human, using one of her trees. I must have died, or at least fallen apart, during my last nightmare in the garden. I knew I should be freaking out about that, but the tree kept me calm.

  I was muddling through the symbolism and trying not to fall into a mid-afternoon nap, when footsteps crunched along the pathway toward us.

  A dark cloaked person stepped in front of the tree, black hood pointed up and shrouding his face. I held my breath in horror, realizing what might happen to me should someone decide to cut down this tree while I was inside.

  The cloaked figure reached up with billowing sleeves and lifted the hood to reveal wild black curls, tan skin, and icy, frightened blue eyes. I gasped and my heart leapt with joy.

  "Are you sure he's in there?" Solomon asked of no one I could see.

  Then the air shimmered to his left side, and I nearly shouted with hope. Ian.

  "He's in there," Ian said. "But I can't hear him."

  Just as we had practiced in our meditations together, I focused my mind on the shimmering air, and as the seconds dragged on, Ian's lean form came into view and solidified. His dirty blond hair and sharp grey eyes, his loose-fitting sweater and dark blue trousers. As usual, he had his hands shoved in his pockets and stood regarding me, then his eyes widened in recognition.

  "He sees me now. I can feel him."

  My heart soared, but my loneliness intensified because they could not hear me.

  Solomon reached out and touched the bark of the tree, ever so gently, his eyes worried.

  Then Ian switched into his bossy mode. "You should bring offerings to this tree. Augarten is a nature spirit. She probably expects an offering since she is doing something for a human. If I were you, I would ask her what she wants, and in the meantime while you wait for your answer, regularly pour her libations of mead. Preferably homemade, but otherwise, mead made from fruit in this local area."

  Solomon ran his fingertips along the bark, and I got gooseflesh because it tickled. "Ian, you seem to forget that I am a Catholic priest. I cannot make offerings to anyone, unless she is an angel of the Father. And even then, libations of homemade mead?" He shook his head.

  Confusion raked through me. How did Solomon know Ian's name? How long had these two known each other? What else had I missed?

  Ian rolled his eyes with a weary sigh. "Fine. Have Florian do it and blame yourself if Gabriel doesn't come back. But at least you won't have broken any rules, Solomon."

  So did that mean Ian had told Solomon about Florian and I? How long had I been gone?

  My friend looked adequately chastised. "Why didn't you tell Florian about this, then?"

  I gaped in shock. You fool. I could not believe Solomon was talking back to my angel. Ian was just trying to help, and he helped me more than any other guardian angels seemed to help people. Maybe Solomon was more accustomed to this style of communication because he had lived seeing angels all his life, but Ian was easily the most precious person to me, besides my love for Florian, though they were two completely different categories, and both tied for first place. I loved Solomon—he was a dear friend—but I would have to talk with him about proper respect, if I ever got the chance.

  Instead of chastising Solomon, Ian's expression turned sad. "I cannot speak with Florian. Anything I need to relay to him, you and Gabriel will have to do for me."

  That got my friend to turn away from the tree a moment. "Why? Florian is a very spiritual person. Plus, he's a polytheist pagan—surely he won't get spooked if an angel speaks to him."

  "It's not that," Ian said. "Florian answers to the Archangel Michael, who doesn't approve of my helping Gabriel. Thus, both Gabriel and I are cut off. I don't want to risk Florian running awry with Michael if the archangel notices me cavorting with him."

  Terror creeped through me, slowly freezing me on the inside. Solomon and Florian knew each other? How long had I been unconscious in this tree? Why had the Archangel Michael forsaken me? Why did he care anything about me, one way or the other?

  Solomon turned back to the tree, clearly mulling things over. "I will tell him."

  "And yes, that means you could fall out of grace with Michael too," Ian answered his unspoken question. "But in your case, I would risk it. You need to form bonds with other people, Solomon. Drawing toward the divine is not an escape. You are remarkably cowardly on this, when what I have known from you before painted you as a courageous person."

  That was clearly difficult for Solomon to hear, and I found myself wishing I hadn't been there to unintentionally eavesdrop.

  Solomon huffed and ducked his head. "I will heed your advice, angel, and pass your message along to Florian."

  Ian looked up at me then, and I felt he could truly see me. Butterflies danced in my stomach. My tree was interesting—a kind companion and warm—but that warmth did not compare to the warmth of the company of another human. Or at least, to my angel, whose hands felt like sunlight.

  "You could sing to him," Ian said softly. "We both know he likes that."

  Solomon nodded, his head still resting against the tree. "Thank you, Ian."

  Once Ian left, Solomon paced around the tree and sang to me the Lord's Prayer. I enjoyed it, but it ended all too soon, and Solomon seemed distracted by his own worries. I wanted him to sing the Latin Mass, like those blissful evenings in my room, but he could not hear me. He strode out of the garden without saying goodbye to me, and though my tree kept plodding along as always, I felt cold and alone.

  Then that evening, at twilight, Florian came.

  He appeared right in front of the tree, setting a bucket and a duffel bag down. His hazel eyes shone bright with excitement. "Gabriel, you in there? Greetings, tree. Blessed greetings, Augarten. The park's closed, but I got permission to come here tonight."

  After unloading everything, he approached the tree with clasped hands and a bow, then stepped up and wrapped his arms around the trunk. He propped his chin against the bark and gazed up at the branches with a grin on his face.

  "Are you in there, Gabriel? Hey, honey. I hope you're doing well."

  Tears burned my eyes, and I couldn't swipe them away fast enough before more fell. My chest ached that I couldn't hold him, yet I could f
eel the distant whispers of his touch as the tree took notice of him. Florian glowed with that white magic as always, and like that first day at the festival, the amulet that hung from around his neck seemed to suppress it. I wondered why I could see Florian's magic from inside the tree, but Solomon had come across as just another human to me, no pale grey aura that spoke of stone cathedrals adorned with beautiful stained glass. Maybe Florian's magic was closer to a natural rhythm that the tree might recognize.

  All too soon, Florian stepped back, but he held a glimmer of mischief in his eyes.

  "Okay, Gabriel, listen up."

  I grinned.

  He paced slowly around the tree. "What you're about to witness is a ritual I wasn't going to teach you until you had completed the invocation of the elements one thousand times, so a little less than three years from now. The ritual you know will both open and close this ceremony. I've brought homemade mead from Maria, who used fruit from Augarten to make it. I'll do a special ritual for Augarten in the middle, and pour libations, so pay attention, okay?"

  Florian started the invocation ritual, the same one I had learned to call the elements instead of the gods, all in Welsh. I felt a slight change in the tree, like he was eating something tasty. Then I looked to Florian, and as he opened each gate, his energy flew around, like a breeze, and the tree's bark took whatever landed and processed it. This did not feel vampiric, but rather one of mutual exchange. Just as humans inhaled the oxygen trees exhaled, and trees inhaled the carbon dioxide from human exhalations, so my tree took Florian's magic and chewed it up a bit, then offered back a purified form that seemed to both relax Florian and energize his ritual at the same time.

  When Florian began the ceremony for libations, pouring the mead with great honor and respect while chanting dedications, Augarten appeared, but not where Florian stood. While Florian poured from an ornate cup on the other side of the tree, Augarten stepped toward the jar of mead on the ground by his bags and plucked it up. With her goat nose, she whiffed the mead and her ears flicked in interest, her deep kaleidoscopic doe eyes analyzing the jar. She took a sip and pursed her lips in thought.

  I wondered what it must taste like to her: fruit from her gardens, made by someone devoted to her. Maria was an herbalist, a master gardener, and a nature spiritualist of some sort. She planted her herbs according to different positions of the planets and phases of the moon. Not only that, but Florian had explained early on that Maria and Augarten were pretty close, that Augarten guided Maria on how best to take care of the plants.

  "You already have some coming to you," Augarten said to my tree.

  The tree's interest was down in his roots, like spreading one's toes in beach sand. Florian finished one dedication and poured more of the mead onto the ground, then walked to the next direction, rotating clockwise around the tree. I could feel the dampness of the mead on my feet at it soaked into the soil, but that didn't mean I could really taste it.

  "Sorry," I said to my tree. "I'm too human to understand."

  The tree didn't seem to mind, and the response I felt was akin to More for me.

  I turned back to Augarten to find her gulping down the mead. I stared in shock as she upended the jar, slurping every last drop, then shook the jar to see if she could get anything else. Finished, she gave a satisfied nod to no one in particular, set the jar in the branches of my tree, and disappeared.

  When Florian finally rotated around to the gate of the earth, he gasped when he saw the jar. Dropping to his knees, he felt on the grass as if confirming that the jar had not somehow spilt and been righted again. He glanced around, and finding no one but us, finally calmed again.

  "I hope this mead was to your liking, Augarten. I will talk with Maria and bring more. As often as you wish, and as much as it takes. Please let me know exactly what you would like. I will try to listen."

  Then he stood, turned his back to the tree, and finished the ritual.

  The ceremony completed, Florian sat and had a picnic dinner, facing the tree like he was eating with a friend. Then he fished out a fifty cent piece and walked over to the public bathroom in the park. Once he returned, he spread out a blanket and lay down.

  "I ran out of daylight to read the book I brought, and it's a new moon tonight. No luck. I'll read some myths to you tomorrow night then, Gabriel." He reached out and stroked one of the roots of the tree.

  I bit my lip to keep from giggling; it felt like he was tickling just my pinky toe.

  "I miss you, Gabriel," Florian said softly. "We were just getting to know each other."

  His wording made me wonder if I had been gone longer than I realized, and that worry plagued me, but nothing I asked would reach him.

  "This," I said instead to my tree, watching Florian doze off. "This is human love. It's surely different with trees, but I bet you still recognize it. Love sounds like something trees would be sure to do."

  Chapter Seventeen

  I woke with a jolt, a sense of foreboding rushing through my veins. It was the middle of the night—I knew not what time. I was still inside the tree. Florian slept nearby, curled up in his blankets with his arm as a pillow. Augarten stood over him, her eyes fixated on the necklace that had fallen out of Florian's collar, the teardrop amulet emitting a soft glow. I remembered Ian turning my attention to the amulet at the harvest festival, and Florian's worry that it might have hurt me when his tattoo had pulled my ether out of my fingertips, but I could not surmise why such a thing might capture Augarten's interest.

  She reached toward it.

  "What good is that little thing?" I blurted in an attempt to delay her long enough for Florian to sense her presence and wake up. Florian…

  "Good enough," Augarten said, "if it circumvents angelic will."

  My heart flew into my throat. Ian!

  Augarten clasped the amulet, and in that instant, Florian flinched and gasped awake. He lurched back and the necklace fell from her grasp.

  Florian scanned the area around himself with wild eyes. "My apologies, Augarten. You startled me."

  He rubbed where his tattoo was on his left arm, as if it stung.

  Augarten pointed. "Give that amulet to me and I will regrow him. Your magic is useless to me, but his isn't."

  Florian pressed the amulet to his chest, his expression heartbroken. "Augarten, the person who gave this to me made me swear never to give it to anyone else."

  Augarten's ears flicked at that, and she stared him down for a long moment. Then she turned away. "I'll take more of that mead. Have your clueless priest bring it too. Otherwise, tell him to stop pestering my tree with his turbulent emotions."

  She took a few steps toward the path and disappeared.

  Florian heaved a great sigh and ran a hand through his hair. He glanced at the tree but did not meet my eyes. Unlike Ian, Florian could not see me. He was working on blind faith that what my angel had told Solomon was true.

  "Gabriel," he said softly. "I'm going back to the shop. But I'll visit again tonight, okay? Hang in there. Augarten wants me to bring more of Maria's good mead."

  I longed to reach out and touch him, to tell him goodbye. Florian tucked his amulet back in his shirt and gave my tree another hug. Then he packed up, hopped on his bicycle, and left, even though it was still dark. Augarten had spooked him, and now he would not stay with me until morning.

  "This is longing," I said to my tree. "And loneliness. I'm not sure whether trees have this one. You can't move like I can, but you're still connected to others through your roots. Maybe that's not so bad."

  Augarten suddenly reappeared.

  I froze, unable to jump away. She held something glowing in her hands. It wasn't solid, a mossy etheric blob, and muted blue, like the predawn sky in the winter. Recognition dawned—the mossy blob was the same color as Florian's amulet.

  Augarten brought it over to the tree, then looked up and straight into my eyes. I felt like my stomach dropped clear out of me while my heart thumped like that of a rabbit caught in a tra
p.

  "Admittedly, not much," she said, as if I would understand, "but this should do it, with some help."

  "What's going to happen to me?"

  She tilted her head. "Either this magic will help my tree regrow you, or it will fail."

  I swallowed. "And if it fails?"

  Her nostrils flared, her gaze still curious. "Presumably, your soul will then leave your body behind, and my tree will digest whatever is left."

  Fear coursed through me. "So I'll die."

  "We shall see."

  Then without preamble, she pushed the blob into the bark right in front of me. The tree woke from sleep and accepted the blob, then seemed to recognize it was meant for me and funneled it straight to me. Without my permission, the blob seeped into my chest, and for a moment, I heard soft-spoken, lilted words.

  Then the roots of the tree pulled me down.

  I reached to Augarten. "Help! What's happening?"

  "Don't resist. You're just going somewhere with older and stronger magic."

  The roots pulled me down into the earth, and I was passed to the roots of the next tree, then under the wall and out of Augarten. Once past the community garden, I was pulled lower, lower until I dipped under the buildings, until I heard the subway rumbling nearby. Little bits of sensation twinkled over me as the root network of the trees and the webby framework of the soil passed me along, each time with no small amount of curiosity. A part of my mind knew I should be panicking at the close quarters, but the creatures helping me must have a chemical compound meant to soothe, because instead I found myself smiling at each new "person" I felt who pulled me along, somehow just enjoying the ride.

  A rushing sound somewhere up ahead gradually grew louder. I felt a cool, deep magic, older than I could fathom, yet constantly moving, no caress ever from the same hand as before. The subway rumbled by again, and I connected the dots: Augarten herself was built from the floodplains of the Danube. As a nature spirit, they were surely related somehow. She was sending me to the river.