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

by April Aasheim

  I stumbled backwards, nearly tripping over the log while I fought to escape the swarm. Exasperated, I swung with my wand wildly. With each pass, several crumpled.

  When I had cleared enough to see again, I bored my eyes into the ground near Merry’s feet. The earth around her began to shake. Small sinkholes formed, pulling in everything like an imploding anthill. Merry jumped and dodged, trying to avoid falling in.

  “Ladies…” Michael implored. “Perhaps you should both calm down.”

  My sister and I turned our wands on him, and he stepped back, palms out.

  “Where were we?” I asked Merry. With our concentration momentarily broken, the remaining butterflies had flitted away and the ground had stabilized.

  “You’re up,” Merry curtsied. “Let’s see what the Sworn One can do.”

  Her mockery triggered something primitive and wild inside of me. But it wasn’t just her words - it was the tempting call of the Netherworld and its limitless magick. Once tasted, it was an addictive drug, and I could take in as much as I could hold.

  I fanned my hands out before me. A wind funnel rose up from one of the collapsed pockets in the earth. It spiraled around her, whipping her blonde hair across her face and lifting her feet. I flicked my wand and the twister dissipated, dropping her unceremoniously onto her bottom. Merry was left on the ground, flustered and dirty.

  “You look like that piglet you used to have when we were kids,” I said, laughing as she tried to regain her footing. But I wasn’t done with Merry yet.

  “I bind you!” I stood over her, my wand pointed at her chest. A gasp arose from Ruth Anne and Eve. Binding bordered on gray magick, something Miss Sasha occasionally practiced but didn’t condone, mainly because of the karmic repercussions. “I bind you, Merry Maddock!”

  “The hell you do.” Merry quickly drew a circle in the air her with her wand. Seafoam-green light engulfed her crouching body, and my spell failed to affect her.

  I tried again, this time digging deeper. Once again my spell was deflected. I cast wildly and blindly, trying everything to penetrate Merry’s damned bubble, getting more worked up with each failed pass.

  I threw my wand to the ground and heard myself speaking words I didn’t recognize. My amber bracelet sparked as a guttural voice erupted from within me. I looked at my shaking hands. The death touch.

  “I don’t need a wand to finish this!” I said, feeling the charge trickle through me as I pointed at my sister.

  “Maggie, stop!” Eve said, advancing towards me, her own wand raised and leveled at my chest. “She’s your sister. I won’t let you hurt her.”

  “Sorry, Mags,” Ruth Anne said, drawing her own wand. “But you’re out of control”

  “Stay out of this,” I ordered them.

  “Maggie, it’s not me you’re angry with,” Merry said, lowering her wand. “Honey, you’re grieving. This is the denial and anger stage and…”

  “Shut up! I’m not grieving. Shane isn’t dead, and I’m going to find my son. How dare you assume that just because …” I choked. “Just because …”

  I couldn’t get the words out - in part because I didn’t even know what I meant.

  Merry gently pushed my arm down to my side. And then she embraced me in a warm hug. Ruth Anne and Eve closed in around me, wrapping me in their arms.

  What did I almost do?

  “I don’t know about you girls, but I’m getting awfully tired of this shit,” Eve said.

  “Amen,” said Ruth Anne.

  “Where in heaven did that come from?” Michael asked, pointing. I turned to see a rainbow, arching across the sky.

  A rainbow.

  I fell to my knees, sobbing. “A rainbow,” I said, dumbly. It was so close and solid that I could touch it if I tried. But I didn’t want to touch it, and ruin it the way I ruined everything. It was perfect just the way it was.

  The rainbow was all you. You can do anything, Maggie Magick. In any world, dream or otherwise.

  “Shane isn’t dead,” I said aloud and with certainty. I rubbed my nose on Merry’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  “I know, honey.”

  We all watched my rainbow together. It stayed a long while before slowly dissolving.

  As the last colors melted, my ankh lit up like the pot of gold at rainbow’s end.

  “Montana,” I whispered. “Son, I’m coming.”

  10

  The Hermit

  There weren’t enough words to express to Merry how truly sorry I was. And ashamed. By brandishing my wand at my sister, and using magick against her, I had broken the rules of sisterhood. And taken another step towards becoming my father. Had my sisters not checked me, what might I have done?

  I tucked my wand into my pocket, wondering why they chose to stay with me after my childish display. But I felt very grateful, and someday I’d make it up to all of them. My entire resolve now was focused on finding my son and getting us all home, safe and intact.

  Shortly, we came upon a monstrous tree. Its trunk was as wide as Harvest Home, with thick twisting branches that spiraled to unprecedented heights. It reminded me of the beanstalk in the story of Jack. It was an anomaly, even here.

  We stood before it, trying to take it all in. Aside from its size, there was nothing strange about it. Scattered on the rough trunk were large knots begging to be climbed. I circled it slowly, checking my ankh along the way. When I reached the opposite side, my ankh brightened even more, yet there was no portal.

  “Isn’t this where the elves make their cookies?” Ruth Anne asked, rubbing her tummy.

  “It’s ancient,” Merry said, laying both hands on the trunk. The nearby leaves fluttered happily at her touch. “And friendly!” she added. She rested her head on the bark, and her smile turned to a grin. “It’s got a heartbeat!”

  A heartbeat! Just like the tree Montana had sent. And yet, this was no Tree of Life. At least, not the type Jillian had shown me.

  Merry felt her way around the tree with her hands, like a doctor listening to a patient through a stethoscope. I watched her, mesmerized. She was so calm and loving as she attended to it, stopping here and there to heal a minor wound the tree had endured at some point in its long life. The tree responded by fanning out its branches, as if to offer us shade.

  “Um… call me crazy, but I think the tree just invited us inside.” Merry pursed her lips. “But I don’t see a ….”

  “Door Ho!” Ruth Anne called from the opposite side.

  We ran around to her. Sure enough, a faded outline was etched into the tree. It formed a curved doorway. I nodded to Merry.

  “All right then,” my sister said, rolling up her sleeves. “Let’s hope the tree is as friendly as it appears.”

  The door gave way easily, opening inwards. Ruth Anne turned on her flashlight and Eve lit a candle from her pack. I smelled the tree’s interior before I could even see it. It was the familiar scents of moss and lichen and bark and sap and dew. But there was more. An earthiness reminiscent of Aunt Dora’s garden. I felt welcomed, even before I stepped inside.

  But how was this bringing us closer to Eagle Mountain? Were we about to fall into another trap of the Netherworld? I checked my ankh once more. It hummed steadily.

  Michael took the lead. “Stay tight,” he said. I peered over his shoulder, hoping to see our next gate within. When the last of us were inside the massive trunk, the door swung gently closed behind us and Eve’s candle blew out.

  “It’s all right,” Merry said. “The tree assured me we are safe. It’s a refuge for the lost.”

  Wasn’t that what Cernunnos had said? I didn’t ask this aloud, but I was sure it was on all our minds.

  The trunk seemed even larger on the inside. We hugged the perimeter, noting the many sloping corridors branching outward. Roots? There was a spackling of gold dust along the smooth inner wall that helped us to see, once our eyes adjusted. Ruth Anne put away her flashlight to conserve batteries.

  I moved away fro
m the wall and began to explore the middle. The ground was spongy, forcing me to move slowly. My pace was a blessing, as it allowed me to notice the dark pit at the very center before I fell in.

  “A big hole,” I announced, peering over the edge. The well was vast. I kicked a pebble inside, and I never heard it hit the bottom. Ruth Anne whistled in response.

  “Maybe we don’t have to go down,” Merry suggested. “Maybe we try one of the root hallways.”

  But my ankh was now growing brighter than ever. “This is the way,” I said.

  Merry’s teeth chattered. “I’m afraid of heights,” she confided, pulling back from the edge. “Maggie, I don’t think I can do this.”

  “Yeah, who knows where this leads?” Paul said.

  “Oh, I think I know,” Eve answered. “To hell.”

  “It might,” I agreed somberly. Hell could just as easily be in the belly of a tree as the belly of the earth. I sidestepped closer to the pit, my ankh vibrating. I wasn’t afraid of heights, but I had a big fear of the unknown. Especially in utter blackness. Can you die in the Netherworld?

  “None of you have to go,” I said to the others, unsure of how I’d even get down. “Stay here and wait for me.”

  “I’m going first,” Michael said. “And that’s final.”

  “Because you’re the man?”’ I asked.

  “Maybe,” he answered honestly. “I’m physically stronger than you. I can probably make the climb.”

  Ruth Anne shook her head. “I think we all have to go, just like the portals. We can’t risk being separated again.”

  Merry was now shaking visibly. I took one of her hands and Eve took the other.

  “We got this,” I said to her.

  “Yes,” Paul agreed. “We all go together.”

  “Let’s figure out how to do this,” I said.

  Paul crouched down and patted the wall of the pit. “It’s pretty slick,” he said. “I was hoping there were grooves or knots to use as handholds and footholds.” He took off his backpack and pulled out a rope. “We… Eric and I used to go mountain climbing together.” He looked at the limp nylon rope as if it were his brother. “I have no idea why I decided to bring this, but I think Eric had a hand in it.”

  “How are we supposed to do this?” Eve asked, looking dubiously at the rope and the pit. “You might be half-goat, but I’m not.”

  Paul unfurled the line and tossed one end down the well. It obviously didn’t reach anywhere near the bottom.

  “Now what?” Merry asked.

  “Dangle me down,” Ruth Anne said, wrapping the cord of her flashlight around her wrist. “I’ll go as far as I can and shine the light to see what we’re dealing with.”

  “I should go,” I said.

  She grinned. “Yeah, right. Look, let me contribute to my nephew’s rescue, by doing something I’m good at.” She raised both brows over her glasses and I knew she wouldn’t back down.

  With that, Paul reeled in the rope, then tied an intricate double loop around one end. He slipped the loops around Ruth Anne, then wrapped the other end of the rope around his waist several times. “Michael, help me unfurl this as we lower her down.”

  “Here goes nothing,” Ruth Anne said, and we held our breaths.

  Paul and Michael lowered her slowly, releasing the rope gradually from around Paul’s waist. She walked down the wall, bouncing slightly as she went. I was reminded of old photos I’d seen, of miners walking through pitch black caverns, their headlamp their only guide.

  Down she went. Down. Down. Down. The two men huffed and grunted, digging in their heels to support her weight. Eve and I were on our knees, peering over the ledge, keeping a close eye on our sister. Merry kept a safe distance back, and periodically put a healing hand on Paul or Michael to ease their exhaustion.

  “Ah, hell!” Ruth Anne shouted.

  “What?” I called, alarmed.

  “Rope burn.”

  “See anything yet?” Eve asked.

  “No, and it seems to go on forever,” she said, her words becoming more distant.

  “You want to be pulled up?” I called.

  “Yessss… no wait! I see a ledge into an opening over to the right of me. If I can rappel over, I can check it out.”

  “Great,” Paul said. “That may be our ticket out of here. Hold on a second, Ruth Anne. If you’re going to be rappelling side to side, I want to tie off my end first.” He found a convenient root nodule and double-knotted it.

  Suddenly, Ruth Anne screamed, loud and hysterical.

  “What’s wrong now?” I shouted.

  “Bats! Big bats!” she yelled, frantically kicking at an unseen enemy. “Oh, God! They’re organizing!”

  I heard them, then finally saw them – an inky screeching mass swirling around Ruth Anne’s head. She thrashed, unable to fight them off with her hands and hold on to the rope at the same time. flail

  “She’s phobic,” Merry quickly explained. “Ever since discovering a pickled specimen in one of Mama’s oddity jars.

  “Quick! Pull her up,” Paul said, digging his heels into the ground.

  We all grabbed hold of the rope, but Ruth Anne was bouncing around too wildly. Finally, the rope started rising, until it abruptly caught. Paul peered over the ledge, inspecting the situation. “The rope’s jammed pretty tight into a crevice. There’s no way we can pull her up now.”

  “That’s not an acceptable answer,” I said.

  “Whatever we do, we’d better do it quick,” Paul said. “She can’t stay dangling and tied up the way she is for long, especially with those bats going at her.”

  “Now would be a good time for a miracle,” Merry said.

  There was a sudden breeze in the air, as if someone had just turned on a fan. Floating down from high within the tree, like a drift of cotton, was a white snow owl, bathed in light.

  “Starlight!” Merry gasped, as her owl flew down into the pit. There was screeching and squawking and hissing, some of it coming from Ruth Anne.

  The bats began to scatter, chased away by the snow owl’s fierce talons and beak. As Starlight flew up and resumed his position on Merry’s shoulder, Ruth Anne quickly rappelled over to the ledge and untied from the rope. With the line free of her weight, she was able to give it a quick snap and dislodge it from the crevice.

  “Thank you, Starlight! I’m so glad to see you again,” Merry said, tickling the owl’s chin.

  “How’s it look down there, Ruth Anne?” Paul asked.

  “The bats are gone, so all is well! And it looks like there’s a tunnel here that leads somewhere. Come on down!”

  Paul repositioned the rope, so it hung directly over the tunnel ledge. “Okay, who’s first?” he asked.

  Merry’s eyes widened as she shook her head vigorously. “I can’t’ do it, we need to find another way.”

  “Watch us first, Merry” I said. “You’ll be fine.”

  One by one we rappelled down into the darkness. My heart nearly stopped as I stepped backwards over the precipice, but the rope held steady and I shimmied all the way to the cavern ledge, along with the others. Only Paul and Merry remained above: Paul to watch the rope, and Merry still paralyzed with fear.

  Michael paced the ledge, running his hands through his hair. “I should go back up and get her.”

  “Are you going to carry her down on your back?” I asked.

  He looked up, his brow glistening. “Merry,” he called. “You have more faith than anyone I know. Use it now.”

  Merry’s back straightened and she exhaled as she wiped her hands along her blouse. She nodded a quiet prayer. “Thank you, Michael. I can do this.” With her bird protectively still on her shoulder, Merry worked her way down the rope. Her legs shook and she stifled several cries, but she made it. Paul was close behind.

  Once down, she grabbed Michael, hugging him hard. He smiled and hugged her back, and I couldn’t tell if his face was flushed from embarrassment or something else.

  With that, Starlight lifte
d his wings, hooted once, and flew back up the tree. Merry raised her hand in both thanks and goodbye, tears streaming down her cheeks.

  As touching as the moment was, I was eager to get moving. I took a deep breath and faced the belly of the cave, motioning forward. “C’mon, let’s go.”

  The tunnel was tight and round and the ground was squishy, like a Dark Root forest after a strong rain. There was a strong smell of stagnant water.

  “It’s getting darker,” Michael noted, as we walked single file. “I’m starting to feel like Jonah in the belly of the whale.”

  “Not for long.” Ruth Anne pointed ahead, to clusters of small luminescent mushrooms glowing on the walls. The light was eventually bright enough to allow her to shut off her flashlight, saving what little battery she had left.

  The narrow tunnel continued on and on without a single fork.

  “I’m hungry,” Ruth Anne said, patting her stomach as she looked longingly at the glowing fungus. “I used to eat wild mushrooms on my hikes.” She plucked one from the wall and put it to her lips, and just as quickly Merry slapped it away. It bounced on the spongy ground, and Merry squashed it beneath her shoe.

  “You should know better than to eat strange things in strange worlds,” Merry scolded.

  “You ate Cernunnos’ pies and drank his wine,” Ruth Anne countered.

  “Then you should learn from my mistake.”

  “We’ve gone a long way,” Paul commented. “I’ve counted nearly five thousand steps, which is a little over two miles. And I’m pretty sure we’re going downhill, but it’s hard to tell with the footing.”

  My ankh had been quiet since we entered the tunnel. I began to worry. Did we take the right path after all? For all I knew, this old tree had hundreds of roots. But as of now, we had no other choice. We could only go forward, descending into the steady tunnel of darkness, illuminated by just a smattering of mushroom light.

  “Do you feel that?” Paul asked, stopping suddenly.

  “What?” Michael said.

  “Wind.”

  We all held still. A breeze tickled my cheek. “There must be an opening somewhere close by.”