A Path of Oak and Ash

by M. P. Reeves

  "Well?" The Libra prompted gruffly, his eyes still glued to the papers in front of him.

  "I'm sorry?"

  "What is it you were needing?" Cormac raised his left hand, the heavy cloth of his maroon robe pooling in the crook of his elbow as he placed a thinly wrapped parchment loosely into the spiders web. "1513, regrowth theory." The web closed around the document, hundreds of tiny legs pulling it up into the air. It made Carrick's skin crawl.

  "I'm looking for books, or anything really, on the forest's heart." He managed to spit out while watching the scroll float down the hallway, carried by hundreds of tiny legs to its destination.

  Cormac stroked his stringy white goatee, pointed nose wiggling from side to side. "Hmm...I do not believe I have ever heard of such a thing. Is it a lyrical work mayhap? You young ones love your lutes and harps." Carrick forced himself not to laugh at that. Yeah that’s what all the kids were after, harps.

  "No...An object of some kind."

  "Manmade?"

  "I don't know."

  At that Cormac appeared to lose interest, his voice shifting to a flat rehearsed tone. "All record of imbued items, runes and regents can be found in the north annex. Histories, use of the likes, can be found to the east. Feel free to research at your leisure."

  "Thank you, Libra."

  "Yes yes, anytime." Cormac's right index finger readjusted the thin rimmed glasses balanced on the bridge of his nose, his attention returning to the piles of hand written papers on the desk in front of him.

  Careful to avoid any webbing that may be lurking about, Carrick slowly navigated his way north through the halls. Reading the runes carved into the marble floor he paused in the genealogy section, his eyes drifting to a large tome etched with his last name. Curiosity overtook him as he diverged from his destination. Pulling the volume from the shelf he flipped through pages of stories, portraits of handsome men and women, sketches of weapons, a drawing of the Elderwood when it was barely a sapling with a small cottage beside it. He flipped to the last page:

  Odd, it had been torn almost in half. His fingers traced his mother’s name, beautifully scripted besides his father’s, above his own. A bitter reminder of his immediate goal. Carrick gently placed the volume back in its position and continued on down the hall. He found his destination to be one less traveled, a layer of dust topping the carefully organized volumes. Unfortunately, very few were written in a language he knew. Grabbing a few he could actually decipher and a few more he had to play Pictionary with, Carrick sat down at one of the oversized tables and put his brain to work.

  Two hours later the only thing he'd uncovered was a headache. In the vast listings of charms, runes, stones, grimoires, trinkets and other assorted items there was nothing that even remotely resembled a forest's heart, heart of the forest or any derived association of the two words.

  "Hello."

  Carrick looked up to find himself semi surrounded, by redheaded devils as Cormac had put it. One sat across from him, the other had taken the seat to his left. Up close their pale skin was freckled, adding a layer of perceived innocence to their smiling faces. He wasn't sure why Cormac had referred to them as such. Both were fairly pretty girls, maybe a little too thin, with upturned noses and large pale green almond shaped eyes. Their fiery red hair had been intricately braided and woven with leaves in identical patterns, just like their matching ivory dresses. Most twins he had gone to school with did their best to differentiate their appearance, these two appeared to fully embrace similarity.

  "Hi." He answered softly, it was a library of sorts after all.

  "What are you reading?" The one across from him asked in a throaty voice, the hiss that followed broke any possible feeling of attraction he had for the girl. Wrapped around her arm from shoulder to wrist was a thin striped snake. He remembered well his uncle's words about the serpentine.

  Without speaking he held up the book so the title on the cover was visible.

  She wrinkled her nose. "Boring."

  "Very Boring." The other one's voice was just as deep.

  "I thought humans were supposed to be-"

  "Interesting?" The other interjected.

  "Pragmatic."

  Carrick shifted in his seat. "I'm trying to read. Do you mind?"

  The one next to him giggled in high pitched short puffs. "Mind? We have many."

  Across from him the other girl twirled a lock of her hair around her index finger. "He is so very handsome sister, just like his father."

  "And strong. Clearly his human side was dwarfed by his fine druidic lineage." Carrick clenched his jaw, he was damned tired of these people referring to him as though he were some sort of poorly bred show pony.

  The one to his left touched his arm, her fingertips cold as ice. "There's a bonfire tonight...by the riverbed. Take me to it. We can dance naked under the stars."

  "No me." The one across from him whined.

  "Us." Her sister nodded as she spoke, as though they had come to some territory agreement.

  Carrick clenched is jaw, taking a deep breath. While it was virtually every teenage boy's wet dream to get two beautiful women competing to strip and prance around for him, their kind had come with a strong warning. In a land he only partially understood, warnings were something he was slowly learning to take seriously.

  After exhaling, he shut the book he was reading turning to the one next to him who was wide eyed, patiently awaiting his answer. "I don't even know your names, why would I do that?"

  "Anna." One purred, tossing her hair over her shoulders to show off her delicate neckline. A small emerald pendant hung between her collar bones.

  "Ciara." The one with the snake chimed in, although Carrick did not turn to acknowledge her.

  As kindly as he could manage he answered her. "Well I'm a bit busy tonight Anna as you can see, maybe another time?"

  "There is no other time." She seemed confused by his answer, tilting her head to the side as though refusal was completely foreign to her.

  "Then no. I'm sorry."

  "He's rejecting you Anna."

  "He cannot reject you Ciara, you are of the finest blood. A good mate for any highborne druid."

  Carrick huffed. "I'm not looking for a mate or a date or any sort of...that. I'm just trying to read. Please leave me be."

  "You will regret this half breed." Ciara practically spat at him, her snake hissing in agreement.

  "Whatever." Carrick grabbed another book out of his pile and flipped open the cover. His nose stayed buried in the pages until their light footfalls had long dissipated from his ears.

  18

  I need more scented candles. Elizabeth wrinkled her nose, reaching for her favorite turquoise chenille blanket. Her room smelled utterly foul, probably what had driven all of those horrid nightmares from last nig-

  Her body was not on her plush bed, nor the wool rug it sat upon. The material beneath her was hard and frigid. Moreover, her entire body hurt. Back stiff, legs 'I just ran a marathon' sore, even her head felt like it went through a blender. Just like that time last year when Sarah Martinson snuck a case of beer from her older brother’s apartment and they'd managed to plow through the whole thing while watching poorly written romantic comedies. Except...this time she hadn't been drinking, running or really doing anything of note. She had been...kidnapped.

  Her eyes flicked open, revealing nothing but darkness. In those first few moments of realization her heart raced, hands shaking in the darkness as her mind accepted the truth of her circumstances.

  Time passed, small rays of sunshine drifted in through the small barred window in the roof of the concrete tomb. In their soft minimal glow Liz saw the outline of a woman in the far corner, her legs tucked up to her chin, arms wrapped around herself, eyes closed, head resting against the wall. What Liz could make out of her clothing was torn and dirty, skin likewise pale and streaked with all manner of buildup.

  The metal beneath her creaked as she sat up, the sound stirring her cellmate.
>
  "You're awake." The woman's soft serene tone did not match their situation.

  "You're dead!" Rude yes, but it was the first thing that came to mind.

  She more cough than laughed. "I sure feel like it sometimes. Are you alright?" Standing slowly with a stretch she came over to Liz, her bare feet making no noise along the floor. Likewise she lowered herself to the edge of the bed in a manner that could be construed either as graceful or ghostly.

  Liz shook her head no. Fighting through her sobs she managed to choke out. "They murdered my Dad. Shot him. He was standing right next to me and....and they SHOT him. Shot him dead. There was so much blood...blood everywhere..."

  "Oh sweetie, I'm so very sorry." Her eyes adjusting to the room, Liz was able to make out faded bruising on Mrs. Smith's face and arms as Rick's mother hugged her.

  "Where are we? What’s going on? Where's Rick?"

  "Shhhh..."

  "I knew he didn't do it. I knew...when we went...and saw the vines..."

  "Calm down now...we have all the time in the world to sort it out." Mrs. Smith stroked her hair, just like her mother had done to calm her many years before. When Liz felt like she had her wits about her she pulled back, standing.

  "Where are we?"

  "I'm not sure."

  "Where's Rick?" Liz was pacing from the door to the far wall.

  "I was hoping you could tell me. One minute I was making pizza's...then I woke up here."

  "I don't know. The police-the news-said that he blew up your apartment. You were killed in the blast. Every law enforcement agency in the country was looking for him."

  Mrs. Smith tucked a vagrant strand of wavy pale brown hair behind her ear, nodding. "I see."

  Silence in the room was deafening, stretching out over an undiscernible amount of time. Liz kept walking. Back. Forth. On her seventeenth pass she stopped, ready to ask the question she had put off since realizing where she was. "What do they want with us?"

  Rick's mom opened her mouth to respond but the loud metallic click of the lock cut her off.

  Someone was opening the door.

  Liz scrambled to the back wall, while Rick's mom seemed to disappear into a dark corner of the room.

  Three men in black suits entered the cell. The middle-aged man in the center was smoking while the other's held guns trained on Liz and Mrs. Smith.

  "Miss Waters I presume?" The words flowed forth in a fog of smoke.

  "Where am I?" She snapped, anger replacing pleading. The wicked smirk that crossed his face terrified her. It was the kind of omnipotent insanity worn with pride by those lacking compunction.

  With blatant disregard for her demand he stomped out the cigarette on the concrete floor of her cell while his armed companions flanked her. "Come along, its time you and I had a little chat."

  19

  “Something pushed against his shoulder. "Ey..." Again, shaking. With a groan Carrick slowly came to a triple realization; it was extremely dark, the temp had dropped a good twenty degrees and he was not alone. Standing above him was Aodhan holding a blue flame tipped candle, his dark brown brow dipped into a worried V. “How long have you been in here?”

  Carrick rubbed his eyes, partially worried the print from whatever page he'd nodded off on was now dutifully copied on his cheek. “I’m not sure...a while I suppose. Did I miss noon meal?”

  His friend smirked. “And 3rd.”

  “Crud.”

  Aodhan picked up the book Carrick had been drooling in, flipping the embroidered tome over to read the front text. “History of druidic influence during man’s iron age? Thrilling stuff here. I believe my mum had me pour through this tome as punishment one summer. Personally, I'd rather she take a switch to my rear.”

  “Have you ever heard of the heart of the forest Aodhan?” Stretching, Carrick cracked his back followed by his neck. Books did not make good pillows.

  “No. What is it?” Flipping slowly from page to page in one of the opened tomes Aodhan looked about as enthused as Carrick felt to be at the dentist.

  “Wish I knew…” Carrick paused, thinking back to the drama last night. "Do you know twins by the name of Anna and Ciara?"

  Aodhan chuckled darkly. "Who does not would be a better question."

  "Oh so you...with them?" Given Aodhan's proclivity to promiscuity Carrick could only imagine.

  "Never in all the hells! I like my body parts where they are thank you very much." Aodhan laughed. "Bloody tempting though, they start in on ya?"

  "Tried."

  "Well I wish you'd let me introduce you to some more...respectable girls. You are after all the son of Brannon, there is not an unwed lass in Dre'ien who would not want to hitch up to your wagon." His friend completed the offer with an eyebrow wiggle, one meant to stress the point simply made him look comical.

  The thought of being desired simply for his father's name made him feel awkward and creeped out. "Nah I think I'm good."

  “As you wish, although I reserve the right to do it anyway."

  Carrick laughed, out of all the druids he had met so far, Aodhan was the closest thing he had to a best friend. No, he was his best friend. "How'd you find me anyway?"

  Aodhan shrugged dismissively. "I have my ways. Wanted to make sure you knew ‘bout tomorrow. See if ye'd come."

  "To what?"

  "Conall is going to attempt the bonding rite again in the morn. We’d all like you to be there to support him.” He frowned at the book in front of him. “Take a break from your...stimulating reading.”

  “Again? You mean he’s tried it before?”

  In the dim light of the blue flame his friends smile fell. “Best not to talk ‘bout that round him.”

  "Why?"

  "Conall is of the Fang by rite of age, but he is not truly part of the order until he takes a familiar. Last time he tried..." Aodhan shook his head sadly. "Conall is the best fighter of us, he figured he would have no difficulty taming the beast, and he didn't." Aodhan let out a short laugh. "Up until it about ripped his throat out. No matter how hard he tried, it just wouldn't accept him as his alpha. I told him not to go after a Fenrir, but he wouldn't listen. Left him bloody and battered in the grass clinging to life by a thread. Damn if that did not throw him into melancholy; Conall had never been bested in training, so he figured he would be able to just carry that perfection into everything he did. As such he made little preparation for how to handle difficulty." The mahogany haired druid paused, his eyes full of pity. "Ego was Conall's folly that day. Ego that left him laid up in bed for close to a season struggling to recover. There are some beasts not meant to be tamed."

  "A Fenrir?"

  "You've met Starless? Twice the size; triple the agility, strength and intelligence. True pureblooded descendants of the first pack, back when mammals crept about in the shadows of dinosaurs."

  "Has anyone ever tamed one?"

  Aodhan eyed him strangely, "you really don't know?"

  Carrick groaned. "It seems every day there is something I was supposed to have known my entire life that I find I am completely clueless on."

  With a laugh Aodhan punched Carrick in the shoulder playfully. "Aye, yet there are concepts known unto yourself that befuddle myself equally."

  Carrick laughed. "Next time just say ditto."

  "Why would I call for a bird?" The puzzled look on his face reminded Carrick how very far from home he was. Slang wasn't known or used here often. It was moments like this that had him pinning for his friend Matt. Sure their conversations were not deep or verbose by any means, but they could sure communicate a variety of thoughts in few words and texts.

  "Not dodo...ditto, it means me too. Same here and so forth."

  Aodhan clapped a thick palm on his shoulder, shaking him. "A ditto to you then Carrick Slaine. Now come, the scent of all this ink is giving me hives." Mostly because Aodhan was yanking on his arm, Carrick left the librarium in favor of a bath and the promise of a better pillow.

  Erik was not in the great room when h
e got back to the Elderwood. The fire had been lit in the central hearth, a bowl of apples and pine nuts waited on the dining table. His mouth watered from the delicious scent of smoked meat wafting from pan above the cook top. It seemed odd that his uncle would leave a cooking fire unattended, however his stomach's growl made it fairly clear it didn't matter where the food came from, only that it was ready.

  "The meat should still be good, I wasn't sure what time you'd get in so I left it on a low simmer." The voice was definitely not his uncles.

  Carrick spun around to find a tall raven haired woman casually strolling down the steps from Erik's room, toes peeking out under the skirting of her emerald green peasant dress with every step. Carrick lost his words momentarily, her features were utterly perfect, utterly feminine. The kind of girl he was used to seeing on the cover a magazine; airbrushed beyond reality. Yet there she stood, smiling serenely.

  "Who are you?" He blurted out more aggressively that he had intended, causing the blood to rush to his face. If these druids insisted on associating him with foolish humans he certainly was doing his part to live up to that stereotype. Perhaps next time he could just yell Carrick smash and find a giant club.

  Her laugh was angelic; light and airy. Tipping her head towards Carrick, long dark waves spilling over her shoulders she answered him. "Selene." Strolling past him Selene fussed over the food on the cook top with a frown, adding some peppers before dishing up a plate. "I'm not surprised Erik neglected to tell you I'd be watching over you in his absence. He's been rather flighty as of late." Placing the meat topped plate next to the bowl of nuts she commanded him with surprising authority. "Sit. Eat."

  "So...you're a friend of my uncles?" Carrick asked slowly as he complied with her command. He would have hopped on one foot if she'd asked, he was that hungry and she was that beautiful.