Autumn

by Lisa Ann Brown

  “Had you knowledge of the Dorojenja prior to yesterday’s find?”

  Arabel shook her head. “You know that I had not; they are a part of your heritage, not mine.”

  “Exactly!” Xavier pounced upon Arabel’s answer. “You had never heard of them before! And we, well, we have been eradicating the group’s members since before the time of the first recorded songs. We have never been sure of their motives or intent, only that they bring darkness to the world and aim to destroy what light they encounter.”

  “Jonty is still possessed?”

  Xavier smiled again briefly. He sipped his tea. “The thief remains possessed by stupidity, still, as even our great skills cannot rewire his brain, but he is no longer tapped into the spell of his possessors.”

  Arabel sighed in relief. “You will punish him for the thievery, I take it?”

  “Yes, he will stand at inquiry and his actions will be weighed and measured.”

  “And Eli? Has the Council decided his part in this matter too insignificant to be of consequence?”

  “Eli spoke to the Council this morning before dawn; he is under no further obligation to us in regard to Jonty Governs.”

  “Thank you for your lenience.”

  “You are welcome but as Eli has faced us with courage, he is responsible for his own acquittal.”

  Arabel nodded. “Still, I am pleased that my actions will not bear negatively on those I care for.”

  “We should all be so lucky,” Xavier said lightly but Arabel felt the sting underneath his words.

  Arabel knew Xavier was not belittling her, but was instead focused upon something other than Eli, and his enigmatic answer spoke of a deeper, more personal issue.

  “Where shall we destroy the shield?” Arabel asked and Xavier reluctantly leaned in closer to tell her of his plan.

  Tools of the Trade

  Arabel turned the bejewelled athame gently in her hand, testing the feel of it within her energy field. Emeralds and rubies winked at her from within their silver casing. The athame felt light but strong, and a wild surge of power ran down the length of Arabel’s body. She shivered but it was not unpleasant; it was a deep, electric, anticipatory excitement, one which brought Arabel’s knees to trembling. It was the remembered knowing of the natural laws of energy and she could scarcely wait to venture deeper within them.

  Arabel stood within a sacred circle of flame and watched as Xavier led her through the easiest of the protective spells. They had been practicing for nearly two hours and she would need to leave soon to meet up with Eli and Zander, but Arabel found the training immensely satisfying and it felt so good, so right, to work the Gypsy magic. Xavier was a patient teacher and he made sure Arabel was crystal clear on the why’s and how’s of each spell they conjured.

  “The energy will be magnified when you are with the other two, and since you will be in the Copse, you will have a general air of protection around you anyhow, but you must ensure your mind is clear when you perform this rite – you cannot be distracted. “

  Arabel nodded at Xavier, turning the athame in her hand, copying the movements he’d shown her. He’d given her the magical instrument earlier, and she’d no idea why he’d even had it upon his person, since his own athame was securely in his hand.

  “Did you know you were going to teach me today?” Arabel asked with a grin.

  Xavier gave her a wry look. “It did cross my mind you’d not be persuaded to let me handle this for you.”

  Arabel laughed. “Thank you,” she said. “For everything.”

  Ira flew down to land upon her shoulder, and Arabel could tell the crow was eager to meet Eli and Zander, as was she.

  “I believe Zander will be bringing a cart to the edge of the forest. If he and Eli roll the wheel to the cart, it will be easily transportable to the Copse.” Xavier gazed deeply into Arabel’s eyes with his penetrating gaze. “We will be ready and waiting for you,” he affirmed as Arabel prepared to set off for the meeting.

  “Tonight, then,” Arabel said and smiled broadly at the Gypsy leader before taking her leave.

  Xavier stood for some time, watching Arabel walk away, and then he turned and disappeared into the forest, smiling.

  Arabel whistled under her breath as she walked toward the crooked oak tree. She wondered how the Elemental was doing and if anyone had disturbed their hiding place for the shield. For some reason, Arabel felt happy now, despite all of the fractured energy around her, the danger, the uncertainties and the peril. Arabel felt a lovely warmth within her heart just knowing Eli was waiting for her; how could she possibly experience any emotion other than happiness?

  The woods were silent and Ira shuffled his feet on Arabel’s shoulder, as if he was seeing something Arabel could not view.

  “What is it?” she asked the crow, but he did not answer.

  Arabel felt a sliver of unease penetrate her sunny mood. She glanced around, alert, but could see no movement, no activity, no reason to be worried. Arabel listened carefully for any unaccountable noises but she heard only the crunch of her own footsteps upon the quickly disappearing snow.

  She was almost at the meeting place when it happened.

  One moment Arabel was walking along with Ira, and the next moment, something pushed her roughly to the ground and forcefully held her captive. Arabel struggled to move or to get up but it was as if some invisible person was holding her down and pinning her arms to her sides. And then there it was – the chalky taste in her mouth, the fingers pressed against her throat, the grey energy swirling in front of her. The dark energy was infectious; it penetrated the essence of the trees, piercing them, and the cries began, as if the forest was moaning, the sound was loud and disturbed.

  Arabel twisted and Ira pecked but Arabel could not get to the athame and the bird could not break free either. Arabel pushed in her mind, hard, to break free of the invisible grip. She silently uttered the first protective spell Xavier had taught her; she could not perform the movements, nor access the athame, but she could repeat the words.

  Slowly, the pressure eased off of her throat; slowly Arabel was able to move again and Ira was also released. The snowy, slushy ground was cold and Arabel was now soaked through. Her black cape was dismally wet and her black woollen dress no better.

  Arabel rubbed her neck where the invisible fingers had bruised her. Ira nestled into her shoulder, cuddling up to Arabel as best as a bird can cuddle, and Arabel slowly got to her feet. She wavered for a moment, finding her balance, quickly scouring the forest with her eyes, searching for her invisible foe.

  “Coward!” Arabel yelled angrily to the empty woods. “Show yourself!”

  But no one did.

  Arabel waited for a moment and then she and Ira resumed their trek. They were not far away now and Arabel hastened the pace. She sent a telepathic message to Eli telling him she’d just been attacked and immediately she felt his worried and angry response.

  Eli had felt nothing and Zander neither, but at least now both of them had been alerted, should the invisible evil be headed their way. The young men had just arrived at the crooked oak and they maintained a watchful air as they waited for Arabel’s imminent arrival.

  In a matter of moments, Arabel came to a clearing just beyond where the oak tree stood with its imposing stature, the crooked spike reaching for the sky. Eli spotted Arabel and moved to her quickly, gathering her in his arms immediately. Eli gazed into Arabel’s eyes with a tender concern. Together they moved to join Zander in front of the immense oak tree.

  “You are bruised,” Eli said, gently running his fingers over Arabel’s neck where the invisible fingers had sought to harm her.

  “They’re watching us,” Zander put in. “We need to work quickly!”

  Eli and Zander pulled the shield from under the protective cover of the rocks, vines and melting snow. They rolled the heavy wheel of death to the cart and loaded it in with a concerted effort. A sturdy horse stood by to pull the cart and the three of them walked al
ongside as they headed in the direction of the Copse.

  “Why would they attack me, but let us leave with the shield?” Arabel wanted to know.

  “Perhaps they have stripped the shield of its power?” Eli pondered. “And it no longer matters to them if it is destroyed.”

  “It is possible,” Zander agreed. “But how are they disguising themselves? Even they haven’t any spells for invisibility. Or none that we have any knowledge of.” Zander frowned. “It’s hard enough to fight magical battles with enemies you can see, never mind invisible entities!”

  Eli took hold of Arabel’s hand as they walked. His fingers threaded with hers and she felt comforted. It would take them at least two hours to get to the Copse and Arabel knew they needed to hurry. By unspoken assent, the three of them picked up their pace, hoping to make it to the safety of the Gypsy camp sooner rather than later.

  Eli wanted to know if anything further had happened with Arabel’s grandmother the previous evening, and he sent Arabel a quick, private, telepathic message. Arabel shook her head in response. She’d gone straight up to her room last night and Amelia Bodean had avoided her as well, thereby the potential escalation of their disagreement had been averted. Eli squeezed Arabel’s hand and Arabel smiled at him.

  “I’m trying to learn more of my grandparent’s history,” Arabel informed her companions. “The whole business with the Dorojenja and their ability to project fever has me wondering of the dark times, when my parents died, and so many others in The Corvids. Have the Gypsies any theories as to whether or not the fever was of their making?”

  Zander’s jovial face was set in serious lines. “Speculation runs along those lines but nothing has ever been proven.”

  Eli turned to Arabel, his interest piqued. “D’you believe they were attacking us, when we were so recently ill?”

  Arabel nodded emphatically. “That’s exactly what I think!”

  “But why now?” Eli speculated. “What is propelling them to engage us in this fight right now?”

  No one answered Eli’s question as no one was clear on what it was the Dorojenja were trying to accomplish. Or what they might have had to do with the recent murders as well.

  “Those who died – in the dark times of the fever,” Arabel wondered aloud, “were they all magically inclined? What is the common thread all of the victims would have had?”

  “Good question,” Zander replied. “Many Gypsies fell to the fever, including mine and Xavier’s parents. Xavier practically raised me, although honestly, he’s not really even that much older than I am.” Zander shrugged. “He’s just always been more mature,” he smiled, a brief moment of lightness they all were cheered by.

  “Do we know how many of the victims of the first fever had ties to the dark magic?” Arabel asked but neither Eli nor Zander had the answer to her question. Arabel resolved to ask Mireille, Baltis and Xavier as soon as she could in order to suss out their thoughts upon the subject.

  A murder of crows flew overhead and Ira excitedly called to his mates to join them. The cluster of crows answered Ira’s invitation excitedly and the murder swooped down, lower to the ground, so that they were now flying alongside Ira and the cart, as if they were additional guards, posted to keep the party safe.

  Arabel sighed in delight. The crows flew in unison, one big, black feathered group of psychic sentries. She was glad for their company, their magical protection, and their raucous, corvid chit-chat.

  “We’ll make straight for the Lodge,” Zander decreed as they approached the edge of the Copse. “The circle for the sacred flame sits behind it. The circle is mightily protected and even the Dorojenja will not be able to penetrate our collective energies.”

  The Lodge came now into view and Arabel saw that the door torches had already been lit. Although it was merely late afternoon, the sun had begun setting a few moments earlier every evening and darkness hovered eagerly. Arabel’s stomach rumbled loudly and she realized she hadn’t eaten yet today, despite the fact she had stored rations in her haversack. Arabel resolved to rectify this as soon as they reached the Lodge. While Eli and Zander unloaded the shield, she would have a moment to quickly feed herself. No point in being weak when all of her strength would be needed for the ceremony, she reasoned.

  Goblet drums, the Gypsy darbuka, sounded loudly in the distance, and were accompanied by the rhythmic strumming of guitars, violins, a couple of girnata - the Gypsy clarinet - and a stray fiddle or two.

  A low humming echoed in the air and Arabel glanced at Eli. He was moving toward the side of the cart to unload the shield and his brown hair had fallen into his eyes. He brushed it back impatiently and Arabel smiled; he looked so strong, so vibrant, so much of a hero to her. Eli sensed Arabel staring at him and he turned his gaze toward her. Eli’s slow, honeyed grin was bemused as he drank in Arabel’s appreciative gaze. Arabel could almost feel his lips upon her, both easing and stoking the fire that burned between them.

  Zander coughed and Arabel quickly looked toward him. She swore he was able to read her thoughts, much like his brother, and she resolved to keep her private inclinations private. Eli was smirking slightly and Arabel turned away, presumably to rummage for something edible from within her haversack.

  A slight blush accented Arabel’s cheeks and she gratefully pulled out her lemon water and some fruit and cheese to distract herself. Ira and his corvid friends began a chase and scurry game around the perimeter of the Lodge. Arabel laughed, delighted at their antics, and listened to their naughty provocations.

  The drums, meanwhile, increased their tempo. It sounded as if the beat called to the very pulse within Arabel’s veins. Arabel closed her eyes. She could feel the music speaking to her; it urged her to dance, to sing, to slough off the dismal coat of dark energy that permeated the air outside of the Gypsy protection.

  Dance with us, the drums beseeched her, tread upon the land; dance!

  Arabel’s foot began to tap, she simply couldn’t stop herself. The drums were approaching, the noise was becoming louder and louder and the strumming guitars sounded like a wall of music as the musicians came into view. There were maybe twenty of them, and beside them, Arabel was surprised to note, sedately walked Francesca de Lorimar, flanked by her own entourage of Gypsy handlers.

  Francesca smiled as her bright pink eyes met Arabel’s and Arabel grinned in response, liking the tiny medium despite herself. There was just something reassuring about Francesca; she was so simply and utterly whole within herself, which was the only way Arabel could explain it. Francesca was solid, in a way Arabel felt that she was just beginning to become. Arabel thoughtfully drank heartily of her lemon water and then replaced the glass bottle in her haversack, along with the bit of cheese she’d saved for later.

  The sacred circle was painted white upon the ground in some sort of natural dye and kindling was placed to the side of the circle, waiting to be moved within the perimeter and lit with magical intention. The drums changed their beat and the tempo increased yet again. Now the guitars ceased their playing and the darbuka alone pierced the silence of the Copse. The drummers flanked the sacred circle, their rhythm haunting and primal. Arabel shivered.

  The sky began to further darken, painting the sky in deep purple and amber. Long shadows danced and moved amongst the trees. From within the forest, several figures appeared and Arabel was pleased to see that Mireille and Baltis were among them. Arabel stood with Eli, his arm around her, as they waited for the others to join them.

  Arabel reflected back to her encounter with the Elemental. Although the Elemental had charged Arabel alone with the task of destroying the Dorojenja’s evil talisman, Arabel knew it would have been an impossible task to accomplish by herself and that she had been right to bring in the Gypsies to assist her. After all, they had dealt with the secret society before, and whilst Arabel was a gifted intuitive and a natural, hereditary witch, she had not spent her whole life learning magic and practicing spells as they had.

  Eli moved away to join
Zander in rolling the Dorojenja talisman into the sacred sphere. The drums pounded at Arabel’s head and she wondered how it was that the beat could still be increasing in speed. It sounded like some sort of strangely intense demon-drums to Arabel, so dark and heavy was the drumming, so fast and furious the beat.

  Francesca, Mireille and Baltis joined Arabel at the edge of the circle. Without warning, the drums ceased. The silence was deafening as the echo of the last beat faded into the air. The drummers backed away in unison, fading into the forest depths, and only a few Gypsies remained just outside of the circle.

  Arabel noticed that Madame de Lorimar had joined her daughter. The Gypsy Elder was dressed as usual in her standard flamboyant style and her headdress was so elaborate that Arabel wondered how she could stand its weight upon her head. The bright pink turban was thickly wound with numerous layers of material and adorned with silver beads that glistened in the fading light.

  Xavier appeared a moment later, dressed in flowing ceremonial robes of deep purple. Francesca moved to him immediately and they stood together for a moment, facing one another in silence. Arabel regarded them curiously; she could see energy flowing between them – a bright clear yellow beam. Arabel tuned in to the energy, to read it, and found it was a thread of astral protection that the two Gypsies were winding around the circle, to encompass all who were assembled.

  Zander moved into the center of the circle and motioned for Arabel and Eli to join him inside of it. The three began a series of general protective spells, moving their athames in unison, creating a tight web of unity. The trio of magical practitioners began with the easiest spell and worked their way through until they performed the most difficult of the protective chants.

  Once this basic magical rite was performed, Zander lit the kindling. The flame sparked immediately and Zander lowered the lit tip of it to the ground, tapping it to the flammable, powdered line of fine, white dye, which quickly ignited and raced a burning hot lick of fire around the edges of the circle. Now Arabel and the two young men were ensconced within the sacred circle of white fire as the Elemental had demanded.