Achim closed his hand over the small gift and shook his head. “I remember now. But three years! Have they already passed? When you first told me, I thought we had plenty of time to fix things, to make arrangements…”
His voice trailed off at Eolyn’s puzzled expression.
“What did you mean, fix things?” she asked.
He set his jaw and looked into the forest, as if the trees might hold the answer.
“In truth it has been a little more than three years.” Eolyn spoke to fill the silence. “The appropriate time to start my training is in the spring, so Ghemena granted us a few more months until today.”
“Why did you not say anything before now?” he demanded.
“I don’t know! It was just easier not to speak of it, somehow. I thought you would…” A lump in her throat choked off her words.
Achim opened his hand and let the rosewood box float in the air beside them. “So it is decided then. You intend to study High Magic?”
“I begin my fast tomorrow.”
He nodded, his expression stern. Eolyn knew he did not agree with her decision, and for a moment she thought he would ruin their last meeting by starting another argument.
Instead he drew back his sleeve and said, “I would like to give you something to remember me by, as well.”
The symbols embroidered into the fabric of his robe reflected the forest in multiple shades of green. Underneath the folds, Eolyn saw a silver band around his arm. Removing the jewel with care, Achim offered it to Eolyn.
Awed, Eolyn turned the bracelet over in her hands. On the etched surface she recognized multiple forms of Dragon: winged serpent, snake, lion, butterfly, river otter, fish and many others. Each figure blended into the next, creating a single creature as fantastic as imagination itself.
“It’s beautiful,” she breathed.
“It was a gift from my mother.” Achim’s voice broke with quiet emotion. “She gave it to me before she died.”
“Oh, Achim. This is too much for me to accept. If this jewel belonged to your mother, it should stay with you.”
Retrieving the armband gently from her grasp, Achim slipped it over Eolyn’s wrist and moved it just past her elbow. The metal coiled into a perfect fit against her skin. “I would say it was made for you.”
Achim’s hand traveled back down her arm. He caught her fingers in his and studied her for a moment. “I will miss you, Eolyn.”
Then he leaned forward and kissed her.
Caught by surprise, Eolyn hesitated before sinking into the pleasure of his touch. The taste of Achim’s lips was familiar, as if she had always known what it would be like to hold him this close. She loved the scent of polished stone and soft earth that rose up around her. His caress, hesitant at first, gathered confidence. A sense of urgency grew between them, until the unexpected force of their passion ignited a knot of panic inside Eolyn.
Flushed and trembling, she pulled away. Her breath came in gasps, as if the air had been taken from her lungs.
Achim drew her back, wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her hair. His voice was muffled against her thick curls. “Don’t leave me, Eolyn.”
“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” she whispered. Tears stung her eyes. “I don’t understand. What has happened?”
“Come back with me. My father is…of some influence at court. I could protect you, even with your knowledge of Middle Magic. I am certain I could. Don’t go down this path. Don’t learn High Magic. Come home with me.”
She pulled away, torn by her own doubts. “Three years I have prepared for this day. It wasn’t supposed to feel like this. I don’t understand what’s happening.”
“Eolyn,” he moved toward her, but she stepped back.
“No, Achim. I have to do this.”
He stopped short, as if she had slapped him in the face.
“I want to learn High Magic more than anything,” Eolyn said, “and Ghemena is the only one who can teach me. If I go back with you, I will never learn any magic again at all.”
Achim stiffened. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, and his eyes turned a shade darker.
“I see,” he said, though it appeared to Eolyn he did not.
“In four years I will finish my training, and then you can come back to visit.” When he did not respond she added awkwardly, “Or I will go forth from these woods to find you.”
“I will find you.” The severity of his tone frightened Eolyn. She could not tell whether his words were meant as a promise or a threat. “I will not rest until I find you again.”
Eolyn searched for something else to say, but if words existed that could cut through this tension between them, they escaped her.
“I suppose I should take my leave then,” she murmured.
A terrible aura had enveloped Achim. Eolyn was reminded of Hawk, how his focus reached its highest intensity just before diving after Fat Dormouse.
“I will miss you, Achim.” Her voice sounded impotent against the shadow of his fury and the pounding of her own heart. She could not bear to have him look at her like that. “I will miss you more than you can know.”
Still Achim said nothing, and Eolyn had no more words for him. Unable to bear the silence any longer, she turned and fled into the forest.
By the time Eolyn arrived at the cottage, a spray of bright stars hung over the meadow. Though her heart was hollow after her parting with Achim, Eolyn found her spirit renewed upon seeing the care her mentor had dedicated to preparing the Initiate’s Feast.
Ghemena had put a table in the garden and spread it with bread, nuts, dried fruits, roasted spring vegetables, pungent Berenben cheese, and a steaming pitcher of hot berry and primrose wine. Floating candles provided pale illumination suited to the shy habits of the Guendes, who had joined them for this special evening.
Ghemena greeted Eolyn with a strong hug.
“Tonight you begin your journey as a woman in magic.” Eyes filled with joy, the old maga held Eolyn’s face in her hands. After some contemplation, she added, “Though I dare say, this is not the only transition you began today. You have had your first kiss.”
The whispery giggles of Guendes floated out of the shadows.
Eolyn flushed. “Is it so obvious?”
“Only to a skilled maga who knows how to read her student’s aura.” Ghemena winked. “The first kiss generates a characteristic spark. If it is a good kiss, that spark grows to reflect the colors of a woman’s aura as a diamond in the sunlight. If it is a poor kiss, the spark fades to make way for the next opportunity. If it is an unwanted kiss, the spark must be treated with magic, or it will collapse into shadows that eclipse the true colors of a woman’s heart.”
“I think it was a good kiss.”
“My dear, it is quite evident you have had a very good kiss.”
“But it was so unexpected. And then I got scared and Achim got angry and I…I don’t know. I ran away like a rabbit from a fox. What if I never see him again? All he’ll remember now is the coward I was in the moment we said good-bye.”
Ghemena beckoned Eolyn to the table, where she served two cups of hot berry wine. “We have spoken often about desire and affection, but no words or illustrations, no stories or exercises, can truly prepare us for this most powerful expression of Primitive Magic. In the old days—in my Aekelahr—you would have experienced the awakening of aen-lasati this very summer during the High Ceremony of Bel-Aethne. Your lover would have been a mask to you, and you a mask to your lover. This would have freed you from identity, from past and future, from the fear of your own emotions. Your act of passion, your offering to the Gods, would have been bound to the present and therefore eternal.”
Eolyn sipped at her wine. “So I wouldn’t have acted the coward today had I known aen-lasati in the same way as the Magas of Old?”
“What I’m saying is that you have special challenges given the circumstances of your training. Learning to dance with passion and desire is one of the
m.”
“Sometimes I feel my studies aren’t preparing me for anything. Nothing is the way it was before. How can I ever be a maga if the Old Orders aren’t with us? If I can’t even have a proper coven?”
“You must not confuse the form of magic with its spirit. In the end all rites are but symbols of deeper processes. You helped me remember this by demanding creativity in my instruction. Your training will serve you well when you return to Moisehén, precisely because all the old rites have been washed away. As for the coven you so miss, look around, young maga. I dare say such a coven has not been assembled in all the history of magic.”
In that moment, Eolyn became aware of the murmurings in the garden: the chatter of Red Squirrel and the whistle of Wood Thrush; the wet slap of River Otter’s tail and the sharp snap of Turtle’s jaws. Rabbit thumped his foot, Owl gave a throaty hoot, and Giant Moth hovered over the table in lilting flutters. The Guendes chimed in with feathery laughter, and Fat Dormouse darted out of the shadows to steal a bite of cheese.
Ghemena had summoned them all, the many companions of her childhood. All of them except one.
“Achim should be here,” Eolyn said.
“We have already spoken about that, Eolyn.”
“He’s the only true friend I have, and he’s a mage.”
“These, too, are your friends. They have always been with you, teaching you and protecting you.”
Eolyn blinked back tears. She knew Ghemena was right, but it did not lessen her heartache. “What if Messenger doesn’t appear? What if all my training is for naught? What if I just sent away my only friend in the whole world for a dream that will never come true?”
The old maga leaned back in her chair. The lines around her gray eyes softened. “I have taught many students, Eolyn, so I can say that if the Gods refuse your petition, it is not because you are unworthy. If Dragon does not appear, it is because the tradition of the magas must come to an end, for reasons neither you nor I can hope understand. All that is left for us to do on this night is to prepare ourselves to accept their decision, whatever it may be, with faith and humility.”
Chapter Eleven
The Initiate’s Fast
Eolyn woke before dawn. Wrapping herself in a worn red cloak, she accepted Ghemena’s many blessings and wandered deep into the sun-flecked woods. The voices of trees danced on the wind. Animals scattered at her approach. Solitude followed her like a living presence.
At midday, Lynx melted out of the shadows not more than ten paces in front of her. The wild cat stretched broad furry paws against the ground and sat on her haunches. She studied Eolyn with steady amber eyes. Then she turned and retreated into the forest.
Understanding the wordless invitation, Eolyn followed.
Lynx’s steps fell silent against the leaf litter. Her musk trailed behind her in a soothing cloud. When they reached the foot of Lynx’s ridge, the cat rolled onto her back and stretched her limbs, exposing the downy white of her belly. She dedicated several minutes to meticulously cleaning her paws before rising and disappearing like a ghost in the underbrush, leaving Eolyn to climb alone.
Although Eolyn had explored the base of Lynx’s ridge on countless occasions, she had never approached the lair itself. The ascent proved arduous. It took the rest of the day to find the cave nestled on the south side of the rocky outcrop. With aching limbs, Eolyn crawled into the small space, sat down, and wiped the sweat from her brow.
Lynx’s cave was dry and well ventilated. On the smooth dirt floor, Lynx had left fragrant grass and soft ferns to prepare a bed. The aroma of stone and earth reminded Eolyn of Achim.
I wonder what his fast was like.
She had not thought to ask him during their meeting by the river, but then she had not thought about much of anything except the singular power of that kiss.
Did his coven give him a banquet of friendship and transition? Did Tzeremond, like Ghemena, send his student off with affection?
Even though Achim studied in the company of a full order, Eolyn could not shake the suspicion that his initiation had been a solitary experience.
At sunset, Eolyn settled at the cave entrance to watch the stars ignite against a deep purple sky. The forest spread in an undulating carpet below. The fragrance of pine and oak rose from its canopy. Rhythmic sounds filled the night: the scratchy chirp of crickets, bell-like tones of dink frogs, and occasional hoots from a pygmy owl. The unbounded space brought on a deep sense of tranquility.
When sleep called, Eolyn crawled back into the lair. Strange and vivid dreams greeted her. She saw ancient people drift through the forest and observed fantastic animals that no longer existed. She witnessed the first sacred fire invoked by Aithne and Caradoc, and watched the path of their flight as Thunder pursued the lovers into the mountains.
She found herself transported to battlefields where Caedmon and his mage warriors defeated the People of Thunder. Then she followed their sacred tradition as it flowed generation past generation into the life of her own mother, Kaie.
Eolyn stood by the initiate Kaie as she accepted the staff of High Magic. She accompanied the knight Kaie into war against metal-clad opponents. She watched the mother Kaie share the arts of Simple Magic with her daughter in the South Woods, and she comforted the prisoner Kaie as she faded toward the Afterlife on a cold stone floor, her face bloodied and her limbs shattered.
In the wake of Kaie’s death, an ebony haired witch appeared. With tapered fingers, she gathered a thousand broken threads of friendship left by the war and wove them into a shimmering web that stretched from one end of the kingdom to another.
You are not the one I sought, little Eolyn, she whispered, but you are the one who was found. The Gods have spoken. Destiny has revealed its hand. If you choose the path of High Magic, you are bound to restore our tradition to Moisehén, to renew the heritage of your sisters. If you refuse this oath, then you cannot accept the gift of Dragon.
Eolyn awoke with a start, muscles stiff and cheeks wet with tears. When she emerged from the cave, dawn was spreading its pale light along the misty horizon. A dense fog had settled, leaving the rocky ridge floating in a soft sea of white. Ribbons of salmon and pale blue heralded the arrival of the sun. As the bright orb peeked over the edge of the world, the tips of the fog bank ignited in misty gold.
Dragon, Ghemena had told Eolyn, can assume the form of any creature that walks the earth. The Initiate must therefore open her mind to the greatness of all beings, lest she fail to hear Messenger’s voice in the sinuous movement of a millipede or in the fearsome roar of an angry bear.
Eolyn scanned the ridge, but detected no movement across its rocky face. She searched for tiny creatures among the rough crevices, but neither spider nor beetle nor lizard appeared.
The forest was strangely quiet. Even the birds refrained from their dawn chorus.
Time passed. The orange sun drifted upward through the fog bank. The jagged stones warmed, and the frost dissipated.
With a sinking heart, Eolyn wondered if she had misunderstood Lynx. Perhaps she was not meant to come here. Perhaps Dragon waited somewhere else.
Then a shadow passed over the rocks.
Eolyn straightened, uncertain whether the shifting light had played a trick on her eyes. The shadow passed again, sharper this time and unmistakable in form and meaning.
Incredulous, Eolyn turned toward the rising sun.
Dragon flew toward the ridge in her true form, a dark silhouette against the bright sky. Her flight was smooth and rhythmic. Her wings whipped the golden clouds beneath her. Sunlight reflected off her silver scales in brilliant and blinding colors. Three times she circled Eolyn. Then she lifted up over the rocks and prepared to land.
Eolyn stepped back, caught between wonder and fear. She breathed deep the crisp morning air in an effort to sooth her pounding heart.
Not a sound was heard nor a tremor felt as Dragon set her massive feet on the ground. Only the wind from her wings marked her arrival, blowing back the hood
of Eolyn’s cloak.
Dragon’s translucent scales shone like fine cut crystal. The graceful movement of her long neck and undulating tail gave the impression of a sparkling river in constant motion. She folded her wings and set opaque silver eyes upon Eolyn.
Do not be afraid. Dragon spoke in her quiet tongue. The Gods who sent me look with favor upon your petition. Not since the time of Caedmon have they instructed me to appear in my true form, and before that not since the time of Aithne and Caradoc.
Eolyn stared at this wondrous creature, trying to grasp the magnitude of what was happening. On instinct, she went to her knees. Her words came in trembling starts. “I…I am not worthy of this honor.”
Dragon tilted her head. Amusement sparked inside those silver orbs. That is precisely why you are judged worthy. You have embraced your gift with joy and humility. Now your journey brings the promise of a new era of magic.
“I don’t understand.”
Don’t you, Eolyn? Your sisters spoke to you in your dreams last night. Have you already forgotten their message?
Eolyn bowed her head and closed her eyes. The full weight of the burden she was about to accept settled heavy upon her shoulders. She steadied her pulse and focused on her connection with the earth.
“My gratitude to the Gods is unending,” she said quietly, repeating the invocation Ghemena had given her. “You gave me life while so many others met death. You gave me magic even as my sisters burned. I pray to you, break open my spirit, so that I may receive your instructions and see your will fulfilled.”
Dragon nodded.
Go to the Oldest Oak. She has prepared the branch from which your staff will be forged. You will find the branch at her feet, along with a feather from Midnight Owl. Bring these to me, together with a water crystal from River, and the sword given to you by your mage friend.
With a reverent bow, Eolyn took her leave. She gathered all four elements, finding them just as Dragon had indicated. On her way back to Lynx’s lair, she paused in the place where she kept Achim’s sword. Wrapping both hands around the hilt, she sang the incantation he had taught her and pulled the weapon from its resting place.
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