Forevermore

by C. C. Wood

  When they entered the house, Alaunus’ father, Bran, looked up from his study of the fire. At the expression on his face, Aveta faltered. The man appeared ravaged, aged several decades since she last glimpsed him a few weeks ago.

  Caderyn hovered in the corner of the room, but did not speak. His face was pale and drawn, which told Aveta more about Alaunus’ condition than anything else.

  Bran moved to stand in front of her. “Thank you for coming.” When his eyes dropped to her waist, Aveta knew that Alaunus had told his father about the child she carried. “While you may not be the woman I would have chosen for my son, he pointed out to me that it is he who must live with his wife.” Bran drew in a deep breath. “And if you can save him from whatever ails him, then I will happily see the two of you wed and be proud to call you daughter.”

  Aveta nodded. While she appreciated Bran’s offer to put aside his preferences, now was not the time to discuss them. “Where is he?”

  “I will take you to him,” Caderyn offered.

  As Aveta followed him toward the back of the house, leaving Bran and the servant boy by the hearth, the healer stopped her a few paces from the doorway.

  “I do not have the touch of the god or goddess as you do,” he began. “But there is more than an illness here.” To Aveta’s shock, he continued, “I fear he has been poisoned or cursed. As soon as I realized, I told Bran to send for you. It took some persuasion.”

  She nodded. “Thank you, Caderyn.”

  The healer put a hand on her arm. “Bran knows he should have sent for you immediately after Alaunus took ill, but old men are often full of pride. Including me.” He cleared his throat. “You were right about Branwen and her babe. I did not want to make the same mistake in this case. If Alaunus recovers, it will take time, but Bran will follow through on his vow to treat you as a daughter.”

  The healer’s reassurances were even more of a shock than his choice to send for her as soon as he realized the problem. Though she loathed thinking the worst of people, Aveta wondered if her betrothal to Alaunus was the cause. She had no doubt that the healer intended to ingratiate himself to her now that she was to wed the next chieftain.

  Aveta set her suspicions aside. There would be time to ponder them later.

  “Give me a few moments alone with him,” she requested.

  Again, to her surprise, the healer nodded his head in agreement.

  She entered the room where Alaunus lay and instantly recognized that there was dark magic at play here. Evil tainted the very air. At first she thought that he was no longer breathing, but as she approached the bed, she saw that his chest rose and fell with slow, shallow movements. His usually tan complexion was nearly gray and the edges of his lips were tinged blue.

  Her eyes welled with tears as Aveta looked upon her beloved. Without tapping into her power, she could still sense that he was moving toward the edge of life. Once he reached the precipice, his fall into death would be quick and inevitable.

  There was no time for her to wallow in fear and worry. She shook herself, wiping the tears away and removing her cloak. Unless the witch who cursed him recanted the spell, it would be up to her to save him.

  Rolling up the sleeves of her dress, Aveta laid her hands on Alaunus’ head. Though she tried to avoid using her gifts in front of those she cared for, Aveta was not about to waste time. Not when Alaunus was in such dire need.

  Slowly, she breathed in and opened the gate in her mind that housed her talents. She directed energy down through her arms and out of her hands, letting the power move through his mind.

  His forceful personality was absent, all consciousness was still and quiet. The joy and humor that he always carried with him was muted and nearly gone. It explained why she could feel his breath and heartbeat but not his thoughts when she sought him out earlier.

  Her heart aching from the changes that wreaked inside Alaunus, Aveta explored his mind, searching for the cause of his decline. If she found the root, perhaps she could call on the touch of the goddess to heal it.

  After several long moments, she withdrew in frustration. Though she could sense the curse that afflicted Alaunus, it did not originate in his mind.

  Unwilling to give up, Aveta laid her hands on his chest. As she repeated the process of letting the energy flow through her palms, she immediately felt the curse. It twisted and hissed within his lungs. She focused on the dark magic in an effort to discover who had done this to him.

  A shadow stood before her, a hand raised in front of its black face. A small pile of shimmering gray powder lay cradled in its palm. Suddenly, there was a gust of breath and the powder filled her nose and mouth.

  Aveta realized that she was seeing what occurred when Alaunus was cursed. Though she tried to see the face of the witch who cast the spell, all that remained was a silhouette, a blank shadow with no face or shape.

  There would be time enough to ask Alaunus who did this to him. Aveta removed her hands from his body and moved to her basket.

  “Caderyn!” she called.

  He appeared in the doorway. “Yes?”

  “I need you to boil water for a tea. You were correct in thinking that there is dark magic at play here.”

  The healer nodded, his expression grave. “Will you be able to save him?”

  “I will do everything in my power. If this does not work, then I will have to seek someone stronger than I.”

  Through the night, Aveta brewed cups of tea and potions derived from herbs. Each time she would coax several sips down Alaunus’ throat, then lay her hands on his chest and attempt to heal him.

  It was all for naught. There was no sign of improvement in Alaunus. Her efforts to heal him using the touch of the goddess were ineffective. The curse writhed within his lungs, worming its way toward his heart.

  Exhausted and damp with sweat, Aveta curled up on the bed next to Alaunus’ still form, laying her hand over his heart.

  “I will find a way to save you, my love,” she whispered the promise against his shoulder. “No matter what it requires.”

  If Alaunus heard her, she would never know. His eyes remained closed and his breathing seemed even lighter and slower than before.

  Pressing a kiss to his lips, she rose from the bed, gathered her things, and left the house after promising Bran and Caderyn she would return shortly. She hated the look in Bran’s eyes when she explained that she needed to seek the counsel of someone more knowledgeable than herself. It mirrored the terror she felt in her own heart.

  In the golden light of the dawning sun, she did not walk toward her cottage, but toward the forest that surrounded her meadow.

  She might not have the power to save Alaunus, but she knew someone who would.

  Chapter Five

  The High Priestess

  Aveta walked through the forest, opening her mind and her senses to the sounds and scents that surrounded her.

  During the spring and summer days, she would spend hours amongst the trees, letting the serenity of the blooming plants and lively animals replenish her. The god and goddess were always present here.

  The fall and winter were just as magical, but in a different way. There was always power in death and rebirth, power that could be harnessed if need be.

  Before she married her first, and now deceased husband, her mother had led Aveta into the woods. They walked deep into the trees, where the light was dim and ethereal. The sounds of the animals were hushed, as if even they knew the significance of this place.

  Her mother had come to a stop in front of a towering oak with a gnarled trunk. It was taller and thicker than all the trees around it. Even without touching it, Aveta could feel the power that pulsated behind the bark. This tree was special. Magical.

  Lifting a hand, her mother trailed her fingertips over the trunk as if greeting the tree. “This is a place of power, my daughter. A part of the god resides in this tree.” She gestured to a brook running through the forest a short distance away. “The goddess, she is in the w
ater.”

  Aveta looked more closely at the stream that babbled and sang as it ran past. The water was perfectly clear, yet it seemed filled with sparks of blue light.

  “Aveta,” her mother called softly, regaining her daughter’s attention. “Should you ever find yourself in danger or desperate, come to this place.”

  “I-I-I do not know if I can find my way back here,” Aveta whispered.

  Her mother smiled, her face gentle. “All you have to do is reach out with your mind and your heart. The god and goddess will guide you to this spot. It is hidden from all except those the god and goddess wish to see.”

  Hesitantly, Aveta lifted a hand and rested her palm against the rough bark. Her skin tingled and warmed where it made contact with the trunk. It was a pleasant sensation. The longer she held her hand to the tree, the stronger the feeling became. She was about to pull away when her mother wrapped a hand around her wrist.

  “No, my daughter. The god only wishes to learn more about you. Allow him the opportunity.”

  Shaking slightly, Aveta remained where she was as the sensations intensified until she felt as though the ground quaked beneath her feet. At last, the echoes of power faded away, leaving behind a quiet thrum.

  Her mother released her and Aveta lifted her hand. She gasped as she saw the small mark along the bottom edge of her palm. It was a crescent that spanned the base of her thumb.

  “He marked you,” her mother breathed. “He blessed you.”

  A soft laugh came from the direction of the brook. Both women turned and saw a white light dancing along the edge of the water.

  “Come, the goddess wishes to meet you as well,” her mother explained, still holding Aveta’s hand.

  When they knelt alongside the water, Aveta saw tiny sparks of light spinning and swimming through the shallow stream.

  “Put your hand in the water,” her mother encouraged.

  Aveta reached forward, but her mother stopped her.

  “Try your other hand. The god and goddess are opposites, two halves of one whole.”

  Aveta nodded and did as her mother suggested. Immediately, the water seemed to bubble and fizz, but it remained cool and gentle against her fingers. It was as if the goddess wished to play.

  After a short while, the activity of the water ceased and Aveta lifted her hand from the stream. At the base of her opposite thumb was a round mark, perfectly symmetrical.

  Her mother smiled and pressed her hands to her lips. “They have both blessed you, my daughter. The god and goddess approve of you.”

  “What does that mean?” Aveta asked.

  Her mother cupped her face in her hands. “It means, my Aveta, that you have been lovingly touched by the god and goddess. They have given you a part of their power. A piece of their very being.”

  A few months later, Aveta had been married and shortly thereafter her mother died of a fever. Aveta’s husband had forbidden her from bringing her mother into their home to care for her and she had passed during the coldest night of the year.

  Her first husband, Cael, had been a horrible, violent man from the day they were bound by Alaunus’ father. The circumstances surrounding his death were the reason the villagers now shunned her. While Caderyn had never shared what he witnessed the night of Cael’s death, rumors had spread all the same. For the last few years they had watched her with suspicious eyes and avoided her unless they required her knowledge when Caderyn could be of no help.

  The first rumble of power brought her attention back to the here and now. She was close to the tree of the god.

  Beneath the thick canopy of the forest, the thin morning light was nearly non-existent, yet Aveta could see clearly. A golden glow pulsed in front of her in time with the throb of the tree’s power.

  However, as she drew closer, it was the brook that called to her. The water sounded as though it were calling her name.

  Trusting her instincts, Aveta moved to the stream and knelt on the bank. She lowered her left hand into the water, the hand that bore the mark of the goddess.

  Suddenly, she felt as though she were being pulled under, yet her body had not moved. She sank into water that was not as it appeared. It was not liquid, but light.

  “My daughter.”

  She turned, squinting against the brightness, and found a woman standing in front of her. The illumination seemed to come from her skin. Aveta lifted a hand to shield her eyes and the glow dimmed.

  She gasped at her first glance of the woman. She was incredibly beautiful. Her skin was pale and flawless, completely untouched by the sun. Her black hair swayed against her shoulders and back, the color shimmering with an undertone of the deepest, darkest blue. Her eyes were the same color, yet they shimmered like the surface of a body of water in the moonlight. They were fathomless, holding all the knowledge of the universe, all the joys and sorrows. She seemed familiar yet Aveta could not place her.

  Aveta fell to her knees, bowing her head, for she knew she was in the presence of the goddess. “Goddess.”

  A slender, pale hand lifted her chin so that their eyes met once again. “You shall call me Mother, for I am the mother to all life.”

  “Yes, Mother,” Aveta agreed.

  “Rise and tell me your troubles, my daughter, for I can see them written on your very soul.”

  Aveta stood on trembling legs, her heart suffused with warmth as the goddess used the same words as her own mother often had. My daughter. It had been an endearment rather than a title. “My beloved has been cursed, Mother. He is dying.”

  The goddess gestured to Aveta’s abdomen. “And he is the father of your babe,” she stated.

  Aveta nodded.

  The goddess cocked her head to one side and studied Aveta. Her eyes seemed to look straight into Aveta’s soul. The harsh expression softened into one of tenderness.

  “Do not look so frightened, my daughter. You have come seeking my help and, in this instance, my help you shall receive. There is one in league with the darkness and I cannot allow evil to win this particular battle.” The goddess smiled gently. “Lie down, Aveta, mother of a new age, and I shall show you the oldest of magic. I have no doubt that the knowledge will be safe in your hands.”

  The goddess led Aveta to a large rock, its shape smooth and worn by years of water running over its surface. When she lay down, the surface was soft and comfortable rather than hard and cold as she expected.

  “Mother?” she asked.

  “You will be safe,” the goddess promised.

  Aveta nodded, reclining back on the rock.

  “Close your eyes,” the goddess prompted.

  Once she had done as she was told, Aveta felt the cool touch of the goddess’ fingers on her forehead and the press of her hand over her heart.

  “The old magic has been lost for generations,” the goddess explained. “My mate and I have searched for many years for one such as yourself, Aveta. One who has both the strength and wisdom to possess our power. One who can temper that power with compassion and love. Too many seek our blessings for what they will gain from it rather than what they can give. As mother and father of this land, the god and I care for all its people as our own children.” She paused. “Yet children must sometimes be deprived if they do not appreciate the gifts they are offered.”

  Aveta stiffened slightly and the hand over her heart patted her gently.

  “Do not worry, my daughter. I have seen into your heart. You appreciate the gifts the god and I gave you years ago. You have used them to help many, even those who are ungrateful and cruel. I think you will use any blessings we bestow upon you for the good of others.” The goddess laughed softly. “And I would not mind if you used them for the good of yourself once in a while.”

  “Yes, Mother,” Aveta replied, uncertain how to respond to the goddess’ words.

  “Are you ready to begin?” the goddess asked.

  “Yes.”

  Aveta was unsure of what to expect. Then the goddess’ cool hands began to warm on h
er skin, growing hotter and hotter until sweat dewed Aveta’s skin. She grew dizzy as whispering voices murmured incantations in her mind, echoing quietly. Then there were words of knowledge that filled her ears, information that she had never thought she would possess.

  The heat spread from her head and her heart, trickling through her torso and her limbs. She felt strong, filled with energy, in spite of the sleepless night she had spent at Alaunus’ bedside.

  Gradually, the voices and the heat faded and Aveta began to breathe deeply, feeling the change in her body and mind that was unexpected yet amazing.

  “Open your eyes, my daughter,” the goddess murmured. When Aveta did as she asked, the goddess smiled. “How do you feel?”

  “I feel…wonderful, Mother. Thank you for sharing a part of yourself with me.”

  The goddess helped Aveta sit up. “There is not much time, Aveta. You must do what is necessary to help your beloved.” She cupped Aveta’s cheek in her hand. “You will have to create a new spell, a new potion, to save him. Follow your heart and trust your instincts, Aveta, mother of a new age. You have my blessing…and my love.”

  Aveta lifted a hand and rested her fingers on the goddess’ hand. “You have my gratitude and my love, Mother.”

  Aveta blinked and realized she was lying on her side next to the brook. The light was brighter, the sun having risen completely while she was speaking with the goddess.

  Quickly, she got to her feet, vitality still coursing through her body. Though she was desperate to be on her way, she took a moment to stop at the ancient oak tree. Placing her right hand on the trunk, she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the bark.

  “Thank you as well, Father,” she whispered.

  She was not certain, but she thought she felt the vibration of a hum beneath her hand and mouth.

  Hope swelled in her chest as she walked away from the tree and the brook, her steps quickening until she was running back toward the village.