“But the Unmaker’s ways are devious and it reached across the void and filled some of the Fey with promises of glory, if they would but let it in. So once more in crisis, the Fey and the humans turned to each other, though they had grown deeply suspicious of each other by then. Yet together they found a way to push the three realms apart. Though those that did this mighty thing, your mother a great and powerful Fey and your father a gentle and good bard, finally won at great cost. The sister realms would now drift further apart. The bard had human children and would not leave them. So your mother, at the last moment, found a way for him to gain second life, reborn into the Fey world. For the Earth Mother loved him greatly.”
Whataitai paused and now his eyes were swirling, taking on the hues of greenstone. “Do you know their names, little one?”
Aroha did not, and almost choked on the shame of that. What sort of child did not even know the names of her parents?
The taniwha dipped his head and nudged her almost sorrowfully. “It is not in my power to tell you. For the naming of things is a great magic in itself. When you find them out, you will be finding your own power.”
“That’s all very well,” Daniel finally had found his voice, “but she’s just a kid.”
Whataitai rumbled in his chest, until their little cave began to feel like it might become a cave in. “That is not my concern, nor would I alter it if I could. The world has changed too much, and now it needs her.”
“Me?” Aroha squeaked, the Folk’s quest was seeming crueler by the minute.
“The two remaining Realms were not meant to be apart—they rely on each other for many things. The Fey receives energy and passion from the humans and in return the humans find beauty and magic. Without this interaction, both worlds will wither. Magic is leaving this place for good. And once it has done so, both realms will perish.”
“We’ve done OK without it,” Daniel whispered to Aroha.
“Really?” the terrible sound of rock breaking made the others jump as Whataitai shifted his tremendous bulk, “Do you think all that happens above is hidden from me? Not only here in this land, but all over the realm, is disaster happening. The earth magic has gone deep, hidden itself like I have hidden, and humanity has lost the power to wield it. The world is dying.”
“And you think I can stop that?” Aroha asked quietly.
“Hey,” Daniel took her hand, “You can’t just lay this on her!”
“If she rejects this task, then there is no other. She must find a way to give humanity back a touch of its magic and bring the realms together, without freeing the Unmaker again.”
Aroha’s eyes filled with tears. Unlike Daniel, she knew the taniwha spoke the truth. It was all starting to fit in. Her gifts were unique, so they must have a purpose. But still, she’d somehow imagined once the Folk’s demand was met, she’d be free to go home to Nana. Now, however, a whole vista of a different task was opening up. She didn’t flinch away when Daniel’s arm went around her and gave her a tight, brief hug.
“I don’t believe it,” he said fiercely to Whataitai over her head.
“You didn’t even believe in magic until you met this child,” came the thunderous reply, “And yet here you are talking to a taniwha. Wake up human!”
“It’s OK,” Aroha pushed away a little, “I’ve always known…” she paused and took a ragged breath. “I’ve never been the same as other children. I heard things and saw things they never did. Nana would never tell me why, so it’s kinda nice to know there is a reason.” She lied.
“Ka pai, little one there is always a reason,” Whataitai’s massive mouth split open in what might have been some sort of smile. The effect was spoiled by the huge teeth it revealed.
“So you don’t know how she’s supposed to do this?” Daniel asked somewhat rigidly.
A vast sighed rippled down the taniwha’s length. “No, I see much, but not that. Yet I do have a gift that might help.” He plunged his talons down into the earth and a great gash of light sprang up as though the taniwha had pierced some barrier. When he pulled free, a beautiful weapon, an ancient club made of greenstone, a mere, lay in his great clawed hand. For a moment Whataitai held it aloft, ancient eyes gazing on it with sadness. He lowered it with a sigh. As the mere approached Aroha it dwindled in size, until the club was the size any Maori warrior would have used.
She took it with great reverence. It was a great toanga, a magnificent treasure. It lay in her hands, a beautifully smooth piece of greenstone crafted into an ancient weapon, yet it was different than the ones Nana had shown her pictures of, for its handle was decorated with iridescent paua shell. Aroha turned it. Even in the dim light of Daniel’s army issue lantern it gleamed with a thousands shades of blue and green and pink. She looked up with amazement at Whataitai.
The taniwha blinked, “It is my power, child, the power of land and water, a fraction of the earth magic. But it is not something that can yet be taken above, for its time has not yet come. It is something you must hold within you until the right moment.”
Aroha looked down at the mere and she knew what he meant. A golden light flashed out from her hands, encircling the weapon, making Daniel yelp and the taniwha hum with approval. All the fabulous veins and patterns of the greenstone leapt up and the paua reflected the light in thousands of tiny spots around the cave. The weapon was growing translucent as the light intensified, and Aroha pushed, inviting the power to be part of her. The mere was gone, and her hands were cupped empty around nothing.
Daniel uttered a rough expletive and turned her hands over, as if she were a street performer who had just made his watch disappear. But instead he found something else. Aroha’s arm was now a mottled green colour from wrist to elbow, shining faintly and cool to the touch.
“This just gets weirder and weirder,” he muttered.
“Iti noa ana, he pito mata. Now you must leave,” Whataitai rumbled. “This cave has not long to last.”
And it was not just his rumbling: the earth was remembering her true form. Aroha pressed her hand against the surprisingly warm flank of Whataitai, giving silent thanks for his wisdom and promising she would do all she could.
“Haere ra, then. I will rest a while,” the taniwha replied, “Sleep my sleep and await your success, young Fey.”
Daniel and Aroha fled up the tunnel, though she did look back once and caught a glimpse of his bulk being reclaimed. It should have made her sad, but his gift and power was really still with her. It just remained for her to find out what it all meant.
Ella ran. It felt like every fiber of her was committed to getting as far away from Ronan as possible. His words and the look in his eyes frightened her beyond anything she could remember. She was used to being unnoticed, in fact she depended on it. Ella might have thought she resented this fact, until the Fey creature had looked at her. Her mind had exploded with horror, flooding her senses with the urge to hide. Somehow it felt like a matter of life and death not to be noticed.
But where to go? If she went home, he’d be there, and Bakari’s was totally out of the question. Only one other place remained. Penherem Hall seemed to have shrugged off its cloak of coldness as she ran up the crushed shell pathway. It positively glowed with late afternoon warmth. No QuickStep tour was outside and the stillness was a balm. Ella felt like she could wander through the gardens or the endless hallways and never be noticed.
Tania was waiting for her on the front entrance, dwarfed by the columns, her ivory hair almost blending in with the stone. She didn’t seem at all surprised to find Ella racing up towards her, but one eyebrow did rise at the slate grey of the shiver cloak. When Ella stopped in front of her, she had no idea how to explain herself.
“You’re not working today,” was all Tania said.
Funny how Ella had never noticed her eyes, how wide the pupils were. Perhaps she was on some sort of medication. “No, I know I’m not. I just…” Ella paused, not quite sure how much to say. “Well, I guess I just need someone to talk to,�
� she said in a rush.
Tania’s eyebrow rose, but she turned and went into the Hall without comment. The foyer was silent except for the rhythmic tick of the grandfather clock, as quiet as it had been a hundred other times Ella had been here, but this time, for some unknown reason, a shiver ran up her spine. She followed Tania through into the small staff kitchen. Here everything was stripped bare, so it could have been any kitchen in any modern home.
Tania made her a cup of tea, which was highly unusual. After Ella took a small sip, though, she realized why Tania rarely served tea. She discretely pushed the mug of watery liquid away, trying not to offend.
Tania got herself a water and sat down opposite, hands wrapped around the chill glass. “So talk.”
Ella’s lips twisted. She could still feel the panic inside, but it had receded enough to make her cautious. Although she didn’t want anyone to think she was mad, who better could she trust than someone who had already faced that demon?
“Do you believe in magic, Tania?”
The question didn’t faze her, though her eyes did flit to the corner of the room; worried probably about someone else hearing. She licked her lips. “Yes, I guess I do.”
That wasn’t exactly the answer Ella had been expecting, she’d already planned her assault on Tania’s skepticism. “Really?”
“Do you know why I was taken away for Adjustment, Ella?”
She shook her head, almost afraid to answer.
“I heard voices. Though I’ve got no proof of it, I know they are not hallucinations. They’re the voices of the dead.”
Ella swallowed the hard lump in her throat, “How do you…”
“Know?” Tania’s calm face turned suddenly violently melancholy, as though she’d been storing up that emotion. “Because sometimes I can hear things they say—and sometimes I’ve acted on what I’ve heard. That’s how I found the Winter Mask.”
Ella was momentarily confused, but then she remembered the village newspaper’s bit on Tania’s discovery in a dusty corner of her mansion, not long after she’d returned.
The aristocrat’s lips curled in a faint smile. “I don’t know who it was, talking about it. All I know is that I found it there, under one hundred years of rubbish. If I’m crazy, then explain how I did that.”
“I guess there is no logical explanation,” Ella replied and suddenly realized that she had found an ally. “It’s a kind of magic, I suppose.”
“Probably,” Tania said, though she shifted uncomfortably on her seat, “But it’s also a curse. I can’t turn it off.”
“You mean you hear them all the time?”
“Pretty much. Mostly all they talk about is their deaths, and that’s pretty boring.”
Ella gulped, trying to imagine how that would be; like being in a room of constantly chattering people—but with the added freaky factor. So she said the first comforting thing that came to mind. “At least you’re not alone.”
Tania smiled a smile like a knife blade. “Why, do you know anyone else who can hear the dead?”
“No. But there are plenty of strange people in Little Penherem.”
The lady of the manor raised her fingers to her mouth and began to chew determinedly on her cuticles. “So you’ve noticed, huh?”
Ella nodded. It had only taken her a couple of days to see that Little Penherem was overly empowered with that greatest of English virtues, eccentricity. “Do you think that means anything?”
“Everything has a meaning,” Tania cocked her head, perhaps hearing something beyond Ella’s recognition. “You know,” she paused, “I’ve always wondered if it came from something about here; perhaps the hill, or the stone circle. When I go there, everything’s quiet, as if…”
A sharp rap at the window made both women jump, and for an instant Ella thought she was hearing what Tania did. But it was no long, mournful ghostly face peering in through the glass, just Ronan’s.
Something in Tania’s expression made Ella realize that he wouldn’t be welcome in the Hall. Perhaps she was feeling too fragile.
“I’ll go see what he wants,” Ella said, finding she would be glad to get out of the Hall’s increasingly oppressive atmosphere.
Tania caught her hand before she could get very far. The gesture was so unexpected and so out of character that Ella stopped with a shudder. “Be careful,” the other said somberly. “They still haven’t found Hamish’s killer and the ghosts are…. They’re restless.”
Penherem Hall was suddenly very chilly, and surely that must be her own imagination. Ella wasn’t quite sure what she garbled, but she got out quickly. She was used to Tania being aloof, and if sometimes she had wished the lady of the manor would share more, Ella now profoundly wished she hadn’t.
It had at least cooled her more irrational fear of Ronan. When she saw his open smiling face, she could only wonder why she’d been so afraid of him. But then she recalled the look that had skimmed Tania’s face. Could she have heard something from the voices of the past? Was he dangerous?
Yet if there was anyone that Ella still trusted, it was Bakari, and his eyes were full of open and honest love: the kind of caring that had no strings attached. He held out his hand to her and even Ronan stepped aside as she went to him. Bakari’s strong brown arms held her, enveloping her in his musky scent and his warmth. He didn’t need to say anything; she knew with him she would always be safe.
He pushed her back a little, and gave her a little shake. “Now why’d you run off on us like that, girl? We weren’t going to hurt you.”
Ella’s lips twisted. “I really don’t know. I just... I just panicked. I can’t explain it at all. I’m sorry.”
“And you came here?” Ronan sounded almost offended.
“Can’t explain that either. But I talked to Tania and her problems make mine seem tiny.”
“Really?”
“She thinks she can hear ghosts.”
They should have laughed, but so much had changed in the last couple of days, that instead they exchanged an appraising look. Neither commented.
“We better get you safe somewhere,” Ronan was subtly guiding her away from the Hall. “I presume your friend Doyle knows where you live.”
Ella planted her feet. She was certainly not going to let anyone else push her around, not Bakari and certainly not Ronan. Part of her flared at the thought that he was far too used to people obeying him. He just thought a little too much of himself. So she did what she usually did, avoided conflict, smoothed the waters… lied.
“Well, actually, he doesn’t,” she replied blandly, “I heard he was looking for me through an old friend. What sort of idiot do you take me for—as if I’d leave a forwarding address to an ex.”
Ella guessed she must be quite good at this lying deal, because both men seemed to relax.
Bakari looked up at the darkening sky. “Good thing, too, El—but do you mind us walking you back to yours? Hamish’s killer is still in the village.”
She admitted to herself that, occasionally, it was nice to be pampered. The three of them walked companionably back to the village and no one said anything, not even Ronan. They were probably worried about her running off again if they said the wrong thing. Ella smiled secretly to herself.
As they walked down the narrow road to Penherem, the birds calling out their evening song and a chill just beginning to settle about them, Ella found her eyes drawn to the hill which was the ever-present backdrop to the village.
Raven Hill was not much of a hill in the scheme of things, but it was the tallest outcrop in the area and a good draw card for the tourists. When summer came there would be thousands of them scrambling through the remnant of forest, fording its tiny streams and climbing to the top to bathe in the awe of the stone circle which held the high ground.
Tania had said something about the Hill. Ella frowned and dropped her eyes from it. A curiosity was settling in the back of her mind, an itch that she tried to ignore. But she had never been up Raven Hill, never stood in
the stone circle and after this day, of all days, her eyes were open to things she’d never thought possible.
And it couldn’t be herself that was special: she couldn’t even entertain that thought, so perhaps it was Penherem itself. If that were true, it could even be the village and the Hill as well. Though Ella had never engaged in any New Age experiences, she’d visited Stonehenge and Avebury and felt the places as special. Penherem Circle was surely worth a look.
And as for the men, they obviously thought they knew everything. It’d be a welcome change to lay some new information in front of them for a change—make them as surprised and shocked as she’d been today.
Ella said goodbye very quietly and politely at her doorstep and waved to them as they went on their way, all the while nursing her own plans. She watched them until they reached the end of the street.
Qoth mewed at her indignantly from under the hydrangea by the door. She’d been quite safe with the automatic cat feeder, but she was still a feline to demand personal attention. Getting over her annoyance quickly, she adoringly tried to trip Ella once the door was open.
Ella fluffed around, pulling the cushions into shape and humming to herself under her breath. She made herself a quick cup of tea and stood drinking it by the front window, content for a moment to watch Penherem life bustle past.
Helen Carew was the one person who caught her eye, though, for there was something different about her stride. The woman had annoyed Ella with her harrowed look and the way her eyes never quite seemed to catch onto you. Yet when she saw Ella standing at the window she waved cheerfully and for the first time it was possible to see what wonderful mint green eyes she had.
Ella frowned and made to go out to talk to Helen, but the other obviously had business elsewhere. She hurried off almost as quickly as she had appeared.
Qoth chirped from the window ledge in an inquisitive feline manner, rubbing her head against Ella’s side.
“I don’t know either, pretty lady—it beats me.” Part of her filed that little change away for later examination.
The evening was pulling in, wrapping its arms around Little Penherem and muffling it with darkness and chill. She waited until the people ceased walking and the night had truly taken hold.
Digital Magic (The Chronicles of Art Book 2) Page 20