The Shadows of Dark Root (Daughters of Dark Root Book 5)

by April Aasheim

  The crowd clapped politely, though they looked at one another, as if surprised. A beautiful woman in her middle years marched confidently up to the platform. She allowed Cernunnos to kiss her cheek before shooing him off her stage.

  “Thank you, my darlings.” She smiled as she slid her hands along her honey-colored ponytail. “And thank you Cernunnos for the introduction. Since our beloved Thelemia has left us and cannot give the proper introduction, I took it upon myself to pen what it might be like to be a crone.”

  She opened her hand and a scroll appeared. Clearing her throat, she began to speak. “Though I am far too young to be a crone myself, I imagine you spend your days hoping your grown children come around often enough to let you impart wisdom to your grandchildren. In that spirit, I call this poem: A Letter to My Granddaughter on Her Eighteenth Birthday.

  My Darling Dear, my Guinevere

  Though I have been away now, for many years

  And perhaps you no longer remember my face-

  Covered with folds like the pages of a book we once read

  Of kings and fairies, and things that might be

  When you sat small upon my knee, before succumbing to your bed.

  I wanted you to see, my queen,

  that my stories are not yet through

  Though I’ve taken my place

  Among the bards of yesterday

  I still reach out from time and space

  To tell one final tale to you.

  Your future is a living story

  Empty pages to be written on

  With ink that cannot be erased-

  As you start on your adventure

  Do not rush towards story’s end

  Notice lilies in the morning

  Count the stars that end the day

  Real heroes are not forged in glory

  But in quiet journeys along the way.

  The greatest deeds a champion does

  Are those we do not write about

  Real moments that make up our lives

  Are more important in the end

  Than all the dragons we have slain

  Or fleeting glimpse of unicorns

  These cannot match the sun at morn

  Or the smile of a friend.

  Dream big

  Act small in kindness

  And my queen, do not forget

  Each life is a chapter in a far greater story

  Written across the universe-

  It is the small words that weave

  Our stories together

  Be thoughtful with pen

  When contributing your verse.

  “Someday, I’ll have that granddaughter!” Demi promised as she bowed. “Luckily, I still have plenty of time.”

  The crowd clapped politely and Cernunnos rushed back onto the stage. He whispered into her ear and I caught a glimpse of a scowl as she was briskly ushered away, arguing that she had several other poems to read.

  “And now for the moment you’ve all been waiting for,” Cernunnos announced with a deep bow when Demi had finally been subdued. “The coronation of our new Head Crone. As you all know, to qualify, she must be a woman of wisdom, maturity, and grace. A woman of very advanced years. A woman who has served her husband faithfully and is done with the drudgeries of marriage and childbearing. A woman who need do nothing more now than be revered.”

  “I like where this is going,” Ruth Anne said, propping herself up on her elbows.

  “And so I offer you my beloved, and soon-to-be-ex-wife, Ingrid. My love, step on up here. Band, please play the Crone’s March.”

  The fireflies circled the crowd, searching for the elusive Ingrid. They found her cowering at the end of a long bench. Everyone clapped as Ingrid stood nervously and walked forward. As she passed by I guessed her to be no older than 35. Tops. Not nearly old enough to be considered a crone. In fact, Aunt Dora would be insulted.

  “But I—I wasn’t even nominated,” she said timidly as he placed a crown of dried and brittle leaves upon her head. Several crumbled in her hair. “I thought I still had a few good years left.”

  “Nonsense! You have been a good wife to me and this is your reward! We will have your hut in the Faraway Woods made up as soon as possible.” He kissed her hand and bowed. “You are welcome, My Crone.”

  “All hail the Crone! All hail the Crone!”

  Ingrid meekly waved one hand as a bouquet of dead roses was placed in the other. She thanked everyone, though her face had drained of all color. Then she was escorted away, off the back of the platform.

  “Look at the way Cernunnos is eyeing Merry,” Ruth Anne said from above a goblet that had just been filled for the third time. “I don’t trust him, Mags,” she hiccupped.

  “This is the Netherworld,” I said. “Who can we trust? Merry’s smart, and I trust her judgement.”

  “You know as well as I do that love makes you stupid.” Ruth Anne sighed and called for another glass.

  “Has anyone seen Shane?” I finally asked aloud. My anger at him had all but vanished, and was rapidly being replaced by fear.

  “He said he was going off to clear his head,” Paul answered, pointing towards a small grove of trees as he popped a cherry tomato into his mouth.

  I stood, wiping the crumbs off my lap. Small birds immediately swooped to my feet and began pecking them up. “Clear his head?” I grumbled, my anger renewing. He could have at least told me.

  I glanced around at the whirling dancers, the drinking men, the pipe-smoking boys, and the giggling girls. Shane was nowhere to be found. I locked eyes with a man so handsome that my heart froze. He strode forward and bowed. “May I have this dance?”

  I didn’t say yes but I didn’t say no, and he promptly swept me into the frenzy. These creatures had such power, I thought, mesmerized by his appearance and sex appeal. He pushed closer to me, and I kept trying to remember what he was making me forget.

  My baby. Shane. Shane. My baby. My baby Shane. Larinda. Armand. Madness. Three Days.

  I looked down at my ring. I was a married woman. What am I thinking? I pushed him away, hard.

  “Sorry!” I called over my shoulder as I ran towards the grove of trees. The further I went, the easier my steps became.

  Soon, the sounds of the feast and accompanying merriment were muted, leaving me with only the sound of my footsteps. I walked along a lightly trod path, ignoring the harsh squawk of the crows that traversed the violet sky. The trees thickened into a proper forest, not unlike Dark Root’s.

  “Shane!” I called, my heart beating fast. My voice echoed, bouncing off the dense forest. I folded my arms across my chest as the air grew damp. It was late twilight, and I wondered how long the dwindling light would hold.

  I should turn back, I thought, as the woods deepened and the path narrowed. But I wasn’t sure there was a ‘back’ anymore. The trees were now sealing shut behind me, and not even my footprints remained. The sound of crackling leaves and snapping twigs on either side of me urged me forward. I kept calling my husband’s name, wishing I had been smart enough to bring a flashlight.

  “Shane!”

  The woods suddenly opened into a small clearing, just as they often did in Dark Root. The glade was well-lit, and at its center was a majestic tree. A tree identical to the one Jillian tended. The Tree of Life!

  I froze as I took it in. It was magnificent, with elegant boughs and shining leaves. It was surrounded by a golden-white halo of light, pulsing like a heartbeat. It was so beautiful I began to weep.

  The Tree of Life? The Tree of Mother Frickin’ Life, right here before me! I felt its power. It was the heart of the Netherworld. It was the heart of my world, too.

  I crept closer, feeling unworthy of gazing too long, let alone, touch it. I felt around in my pocket for the acorn seed, massaging it in my hand as I drew nearer. Was this where I was supposed to plant it? It hardly seemed likely, given the tree was full and healthy.

  “Ssssssss…”

  A gray snake slithered acr
oss the toe of my shoe and I screamed. The creature was gone as soon as I saw it, disappearing into the thick grass. I stood motionless, holding my breath. When I was fairly certain the snake was long gone, I carefully circled the tree.

  It was much larger than its cousin in Dark Root, but indistinguishable in every other way, with two exceptions: This tree glowed, and the scar on the trunk was more pronounced. I wanted to touch its wound and heal it like Merry did, but my touch would most likely destroy it.

  My death touch.

  I fiddled with the acorn in my pocket. The tree, though sick, was clearly still alive. I wouldn’t be planting the acorn here.

  As I completed my circle around the trunk, I was startled to find a beautiful woman standing beneath one of the branches. Luxurious sea-green hair covered her bare breasts and torso. Her eyes were white, without any pupils.

  “Maggie,” she said, her voice only a breath. She extended a slender arm, beckoning me.

  I found myself unafraid. I stepped closer, noticing a tiara in her hair. It was made of starlight or diamonds, and twinkled along with her slightest movement. She was young and smooth, without a line on her face or a worry in her eyes. She smiled at me, her white eyes unblinking.

  “Who are you?” I asked.

  A pattern emerged in the grass at our feet, a circle enclosing three misshapen spokes of a wheel, with us at its center. “Greetings,” she sang. “I am Hecate, Guardian of the Tree of Life.”

  “Hecate! I’ve heard of you. You’re a witch!” I said. When we were kids, Miss Sasha required us to learn The Ode to Hecate in order to earn one of her special ‘magick badges.’

  Hecate, flying through the sky,

  Taking solace in the night,

  Like a comet burning bright,

  We watched your magick flow.

  Until that day when men burned down,

  Your village, and all else around,

  Now only ashes there abound,

  And to the Netherworld, you go.

  You traded solace for revenge.

  But when that moment comes again,

  You’ll laugh at all those heartless men,

  Who’ll reap all they have sown

  Hecate smiled and her colorless eyes shimmered. “You have heard my poem?” She shook her head and her hair fluffed out around her, rearranging itself again to perfectly cover her exposed areas. “Technically, that is not factually correct. I never wanted revenge. The cold hearts of the wicked won’t be undone by acts as trivial as revenge. Karma comes for everyone, and when it does, I will not laugh, but cry.”

  “You’re much younger and more beautiful than I imagined.”

  She laughed gaily. “I am many things, at many times. Do not be deceived by appearances.” She shrugged and petted the trunk of the tree. “Above, I am revered as a powerful witch. Below, I am a mere tree guardian.”

  “You have the most important job of all,” I said. “If this tree dies, we all do.”

  “True. But what is death? Just another phase in an endless cycle of phases, I think.”

  “You’re cynical,” I noted.

  “You might be too, if you had seen all that I have seen. I took refuge here, centuries ago. It is prophesied that someday the hearts of men will be purified, by trial or fire, and I await that time.”

  She sighed heavily, her hand falling upon the scar on the trunk. “The Tree of Life is but a shadow of its former glory. It weakens, rapidly. Its pulse and glow are subdued. If its light is extinguished entirely, no more souls will find their way. The Upper World, as well as my own, will descend into darkness.”

  Is that why Albert and the others couldn’t find the light? Is it because the tree is fading?

  “Is there any way to stop this darkness from coming?” I asked.

  “Fate is involved, and fate is more powerful than me or even the Tree of Life itself. But there are rumors of a Seed Bringer, and my sisters and I await her with hope.” She smiled again.

  I didn’t speak of the acorn in my pocket. Though I suspected she knew something from the way her lips pursed as she watched me.

  Hecate reached high into the tree and plucked a large red apple that shone like a ruby. “For you,” she said, offering it to me.

  The snake slithered back out of the grass, growing longer and thicker as it coiled itself around the tree. Hecate paid it no heed.

  I backed away, afraid again. “I don’t want it,” I said. The symbol on the ground around us sparkled like a live wire, and I was reticent to cross the fabled witch’s threshold.

  The snake hissed, lowering its head from a branch, watching us intently. Hecate stepped closer, her bare feet digging into the earth. “Magdalene, I am Guardian of the Tree of Life. Do you not trust me?” She stretched out her hand, proffering the apple again. “One bite, and you will see the truth.”

  The truth? It was the way she spoke the word ‘truth’ that appealed to me. A simple gift, and yet one we received so infrequently. “Why should I trust you?” I asked, backing to the very edge of the circle. “Even if you are the guardian.”

  She paused and put a finger to her chin. “Because I knew Jillian. I was there when she took the office of guardian, though she wasn’t aware of it. I have watched her grow and I’m proud of the work she has done.”

  Hecate rolled the apple across her palm. It teetered magically on the edge of her hand, then rolled lazily back to the other side. Tick Tock. Tick Tock. The apple swayed. “I also knew Armand. I see both of them inside of you. And I see the confusion that entails.”

  “You knew my father?”

  She laughed. “Everyone knows Armand here! He has tramped through my garden many times, with little regard to nature or our delicate ecosystem. He leaves a dark trail behind him.” She motioned towards a plot of barren land at the edge of the glade. “When I sense his presence nearby, I cloak the Tree. I don’t trust him, or those he conducts business with.”

  “I’m not my father,” I said, absolutely.

  “That is good. Armand has too much power as it is. His daughter… and his grandson… could give him more.”

  “I’m just here to find my son, and keep him away from Armand! Can you help me? I’m afraid Larinda will offer him to Armand.”

  Her eyebrows knit and the apple stopped rolling. “That is troubling, but it is not for me to intercede. I don’t challenge fate. But I might be able to help you help yourself.”

  Once again, she extended her hand. The apple rolled from her palm into my own, fitting perfectly within my cupped hand. I let it sit there a long moment. It was larger than my fist, yet felt feather-light.

  “Just one bite, for now. Eat more as necessary, but you must make sure to save one bite. Save it for just the right time.”

  I bit into the apple. It was the sweetest fruit I’d ever tasted, juicy and refreshing. A moment of dizziness followed, the world spinning, and I wondered if I had made a terrible mistake. Just as suddenly, my vision cleared.

  “What do you see?” Hecate asked.

  I focused my attention on the snake hanging from the tree. It flicked its tongue and its diamantine eyes grew larger. The serpent uncoiled its body from around the tree branch, and lowered itself towards me. I was no longer afraid.

  We stared, eye to eye, our faces so close I could smell fruit on its breath. It smiled, transforming into a voluptuous naked woman. She dropped to the ground and stood before me, her ebony hair billowing around her curvaceous figure.

  “Lilith!” Hecate said, clapping her hands. “That is no way to introduce yourself.”

  Lilith hissed, as if still in snake form, then shimmied and fluffed out her hair. Her face was so perfect it was hard to look upon without feeling the inadequacies of my own appearance. She looked me over, unimpressed.

  “You smell like a man,” she said, crossing her arms before her bosom. “I had hoped you would be handsome, and now I am doubly disappointed.”

  “But she is beautiful,” Hecate defended me. “In her way.”

/>   “Hmm?” Lilith clicked her tongue and shrugged. “They are all beautiful when they are young. Wouldn’t you say, Hecate?”

  Hecate gave her a knowing smile. “True. But the young do not realize this, until they grow old.”

  “What does she do?” Lilith asked, circling me, her hips swaying as she wound around me.

  “I do as I please!” I said, tired of them discussing me as if I weren’t there.

  “Ooh! Feisty! Not a marshmallow like some of the others. I might like her after all.” Lilith lifted a handful of my hair and rubbed it between her fingers.

  I yanked it out of her grasp. “I need to go,” I said, looking again at the circle drawn around our feet. “Thank you for my gift, Hecate.”

  “Why do you need to go?” Lilith asked. “Hecate’s tales may be droll but her fruits are exquisite. You should stay and join us. The Netherworld needs more strong women. We are far outnumbered here, but soon our day will come.” She took note of the ring on my hand. “Of course,” she said, her voice tinged with disappointment, “you are leaving your sisters for a man.”

  “Huh? No…” I hid my hand behind me, as if it were evidence of her accusation.

  “Do you know the true nature of men’s hearts?” Lilith challenged, looking me in the eyes. “They want power. Control. They want us beside them, but not as equals. As slaves and incubators. You would leave us for that?”

  Hecate snorted. “You had one bad experience, Lil. Let it go.”

  Lilith spun towards Hecate. “One bad…one bad experience?! Excuse me!” She threw up her hands. “How can you defend the likes of men? They alone sent you here to hide and babysit this tree for all eternity. And speaking of the tree, do you remember why you are here? Because if MEN ever found it, they would chop it to bits and sell it all off, acorn by acorn, board by board.”

  Lilith turned back to me, and I wondered if she knew about the seed in my pocket. But she returned her attention to Hecate just as quickly. “You may not care about your place in this world, but I was the first woman, Hecate. Born at the time of the first man. And what do I have to show for it?”