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

by April Aasheim

  “We’ve gone about three miles now,” Paul announced. “And I’m sure we’re moving downhill.”

  I was struck by a feeling of deep unease and claustrophobia as I thought about being three miles beneath the earth. I started walking faster, searching for the source of the breeze. The Netherworld was wearing me down, step by step. No wonder Larinda was desperate to escape it. I wiped my forehead repeatedly, as I tried not to think about how much further we had yet to go.

  Ruth Anne cleared her throat. “Some say that caves represent the process of birth, death, and rebirth,” she said. “In fact, shamans of ancient times used caves ritualistically, to go into the spirit realm. There’s even evidence that ancient cavemen weren’t painting animals on the wall to showcase their art, but to invoke the animal’s spirit in a sacred space. Caves are the bellies of ancient magick.”

  My ankh unexpectedly flashed, as if being powered on. And then, carried by the breeze, I heard my name. “Maggie… Maggie… Maggie.”

  “Ignore it, Maggie,” Michael said. “They are just trying to screw with you.”

  I wasn’t sure who they were, but it was working.

  “Maggie… Maggie… Maggie.”

  The words lifted the ends of my hair and tickled my arms. My heart pounded and my breathing deepened. The number of mushrooms was dwindling rapidly now, and the meager light was fading. I pushed ahead of the others, desperate to find the exit. I listened for my name while watching my ankh.

  “Four miles,” Paul said from some distance behind me.

  The tunnel was becoming oppressive. It took great effort to lift each foot now, as if they were weighted down with concrete. It became almost easier to shuffle than walk.

  Ruth Anne took pictures, comparing them periodically for differences, but nothing changed. There was only the cellulose and sap walls, and the occasional luminous mushroom.

  “Everything in due time,” a lyrical voice sang, though this time no one else seemed to hear it.

  Whoosh. Whoosh.

  Everyone heard that.

  “Is it a bat!?” Ruth Anne covered her head.

  “Stop being a coward,” Eve said. “It’s undignified.”

  The steady gust grew stronger and Merry crowded in close to me. “I’m scared,” she confessed.

  “Hey, you made it down the rope,” I said. “You can do anything.” She nodded solemnly, though her eyes were faraway. “If I’ve learned anything on this adventure, Merry, it’s that you can take care of yourself.”

  “Thank you, Maggie.” She moved one leg forcefully in front of the next. “But there’s more. I don’t think I can go through the next portal. I’ve been lucky so far, but what if it’s my turn next?”

  “So? Of all of us, I think you have the least to worry about.” Merry was as pure and bright as a newly minted silver dollar. “Unless you’re afraid that I’ll find out you sometimes eat processed food,” I teased.

  “I do not! Unless its offered. Then it’s rude to say no.”

  “If anyone has to worry about portals, it’s Michael,” I said, loudly. He had given me hell for mine, and I greedily awaited viewing his. My secret was bad, but his had to be ten times worse.

  The wind picked up and I had to hold my skirt down to keep it from revealing more than just my secrets.

  “Maggie, I’ve done something. I can’t let anyone see it,” Merry whispered, keeping her gaze forward.

  “What did you do?”

  She shook her head quickly, the strands of her flaxen hair whipping her face “I can’t tell you. I can’t tell anyone”

  “If it’s your darkest secret, we’re going to see it anyway. If you tell me, it won’t be a secret anymore,” I reasoned.

  “I can’t. I want to, but I can’t.” Her face was pinched and pained, and I wondered what Merry – the very best of us – could possibly have to hide. I couldn’t imagine her doing anything terrible.

  “it’s probably not as bad as you think,” I said.

  “That’s what you say now.” She looked down at her slogging feet, and didn’t look at me again.

  Was she sleeping with Michael, I wondered? That would explain her reluctance to tell me. But the way Michael looked at her sometimes, with pure love and not ardent longing, suggested something else. But what could it be?

  “The wind’s getting worse,” Eve complained, smoothing her hair as she caught up to us. “Why didn’t I bring a hat?”

  “Sure wish that tracker husband of yours would show up,” Ruth Anne said.

  “Ruth Anne!” Merry chastised.

  “What? Unlike you, I don’t think he’s dead. I mean, its Shane Doler. I just hope he finds us soon.”

  “You really think he’s okay?” I asked Ruth Anne, desperate for confirmation.

  “Maggie, he’s disappeared out of your life many times before, and it’s always been for a good reason, and he’s always found his way back.”

  “I don’t think we can die here,” Eve said.

  “But we can get trapped,” I reminded her.

  “Then maybe we’ll all be trapped down here together,” Eve said. “Wouldn’t it be fun to spend eternity with this fun little group?” With that, we all pushed forward as quickly as we could, heads down into the wind.

  The root, if that’s what we were inside, suddenly widened out and the wind let up. A shard of silver light beamed from ahead. What is that? The anticipation hastened our speed. Soon the light expanded, not to another portal but to a brilliant world of color and sunshine – a welcome relief from the confining darkness. We had emerged from the tree, only to find ourselves in another part of the woods. A forest within a tree?

  “I’m getting real sick of shrubbery.” Eve sighed. “Is the Netherworld one giant salad?”

  “At least we can see where we’re walking again,” Merry said, wiping the bottom of her shoes, as if she were entering a newly carpeted house. The rest of us instinctively followed suit, as Merry had always been the one to establish protocol.

  The air was fragrant, filled with the scents of lavender, roses, cotton, and lilacs. At least those were the smells I could differentiate. There were other scents, some pungent but most sweet, and Merry rattled off a list of possibilities.

  “I brought my herb pouch so I could collect samples!” she squealed. If she was really going to harvest plants from the Netherworld, I didn’t begrudge her. Even if I had my reservations on how it might affect the Upper World.

  To Merry’s great delight, a wide variety of plants flourished in all directions. “Sage! Mugwort! I’m not sure what this is, but it smells good!” She shrugged as she popped it into her leather bag. I watched as she loaded her pouch, marveling that it never got full. She plucked from field and forest, like a child on Easter finding limitless eggs.

  There were so many birds chirping that for a moment, that’s all we heard. But then other sounds presented themselves. A rushing stream. Thumps and bumps and footsteps. And – laughter?

  I glanced at the others, wondering if they’d also heard it, too, but they were busy investigating our surroundings. It was a colorful expanse, a secluded oasis. Tropical plants abounded around a wide pond, where enormous lily pads bobbed enticingly on the water. Ruth Anne was pulling off her combat boots, ready to jump in, when Eve stopped her.

  “Who knows what kind of bacteria live in that,” Eve said. “Or worse.”

  Ruth Anne’s face paled but she quickly put on her shoes. It wasn’t the germs that frightened her, it was Eve’s ominous ‘or worse.’ This place was deceptive, and anything could be a trap.

  “It would be nice to get a reprieve once in a while,” Ruth Anne grumbled.

  “Maggie, your ankh’s going off again,” Paul said.

  It was. A steady rhythmic blink that neither hastened nor lessened, no matter which direction I moved. Montana wasn’t here, but perhaps this was where I was supposed to plant the acorn? I moved off by myself and cradled the seed in my hands. I didn’t ‘feel’ anything, and I remained indecisive
until Merry called me back over.

  “A path!” she said, pointing to a hidden trail behind a large bush.

  We moved past the shrub and followed the path, which led to a wooden gate with a bronze latch, draped in welcoming vines. The gate was small, child-sized, and Merry happily opened it, skipping inside as if discovering a secret garden. The dirt path turned to sienna bricks and the rest of us followed along, warily. Finally, the path opened into a rolling patch of green grass and wild rose bushes. It was all so beautiful, but I wondered why this realm seemed more suited to Merry than me, since the last portal had been mine.

  Paul stretched and yawned as we entered. “Sorry,” he said, looking up. “I think the sun’s getting to me.”

  It was not uncomfortably warm, but I understood. I could’ve easily found a patch of soft grass and napped for hours, were my mission not so important. I squeezed the ankh, letting it anchor me.

  “Those tangerines look delicious,” Eve said, pointing to a fruit tree. They were perfect in size, shape and color. And the tree seemed to offer them up willingly as we passed beneath.

  Just one little bite. It won’t hurt a bit.

  We examined the field, our eyes wide open even though everything felt warm and welcoming here. We had been deceived before.

  “Hey, do you smell chocolate?” Ruth Anne asked.

  “Yes,” I said, looking around for the source.

  “Remember the lessons of Willy Wonka,” Paul advised.

  A stand of trees stood watch at the top of the field. They were tall, with leaves of turquoise and salmon and even maroon. An enchanted wood, and I felt reticent to enter because of this enchantment. It was too perfect, and that meant danger. But the closer we got, the louder my pendant hummed.

  “I’ll bet there’s a gingerbread house waiting for us in there,” Ruth Anne said.

  “You have nothing to worry about,” Paul said approvingly. “Trim as a fiddle.”

  Ruth Anne grinned.

  Eve scooted close to me, flipping her hair back. “I don’t like the way Ruth Anne and Paul are getting so chummy.” She pursed her lips as she watched them converse. “Just because she knows a few dumb things…that doesn’t make her interesting.”

  Ruth Anne had confessed to me that she wasn’t interested in men romantically and I wasn’t going to break her trust. I decided to have fun with Eve instead. “They do make a nice couple. Maybe you’re just not Paul’s type?”

  “Maggie, I’m everyone’s type.” She squinted as she watched them converse, as if considering what Ruth Anne had that she didn’t. She shook her head, coming up empty.

  “We all get jealous,” I said, offering up my wisdom. “But you need to trust Paul if you love him.”

  Eve’s face turned to stone. “After watching the way he ditched his brother, can you blame me for questioning his character? His own twin. You don’t get closer than that.” Her eyes gleamed as she processed the situation. “Women get jealous over me, not the other way around. I suppose this is my kar…kar…what’s the word?”

  “Karma,” I answered, suppressing a smile. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

  Eve sucked in her cheeks and nodded sharply. “You’re right. She might have the brains, but that won’t keep a man warm at night.” She clapped her hands together, as if confirming ‘that was that,’ but a subtle look on her face told me she wasn’t so sure.

  “Maggie,” Eve said. “Before we join the others, I need to talk to you about something else.” She looked cautiously around, to make sure we were out of earshot.

  “Yeah?” Her tone said there was more than just petty jealousy going on inside her.

  “I’m freaking out about going through the next portal. I’m praying we find Montana before my turn comes.”

  Unlike Merry, I was well aware that Eve had her secrets. She was as aloof as the night, and that usually indicated someone who didn’t want their layers peeled away. “There’s still Merry and Michael left,” I said.

  Eve rolled her eyes. “The worst thing Merry probably did was to steal a piece of candy from Mom’s shop when she was like, three years old. And Michael claims that he has nothing to hide. Maggie, I don’t trust a man who says he has nothing to hide. It’s not natural.”

  “So, what are you hiding?” I asked. “If you tell me, then it won’t be a secret anymore.”

  She sighed. “I would, if I knew which secret it was going to be. And how can I stay angry at Paul, if mine is worse than his?”

  “This isn’t a competition,” I answered, but Eve was already walking back to join the others.

  Finding myself alone, I heard the laughter again. It was very distinct, a high-pitched giggle. It seemed to be coming from everywhere at once. My amber bracelet sparkled. I covered it with my hand, looking around.

  “Everything in due course,” a voice whispered to me.

  The laughter resumed. Children’s laughter. And tucked in between the sounds of laughter, I heard a baby crying.

  Go to your child, said the voice, calling me from the grove of trees at the head of the field.

  No one noticed as I ducked inside.

  There was no path, and I turned sideways as I waded through the undergrowth. Rough branches scraped my arms and caught my skirt, pulling at me like hands begging for food. I forged ahead, hoping it would be a few minutes before anyone noticed my disappearance.

  I kept moving inward, inward. Still, the land felt pleasantly familiar, as if I had visited it before, in a poem or a dream. The growing euphoria outweighed my apprehension, and I felt giddy with anticipation of what might await me.

  And then it was night.

  Just like that. As if an order had been given and then obeyed. A myriad of sparkling stars appeared between the tree branches, highlighting a perfect crescent moon. There was no setting of the sun. It all just… was.

  My journey led me to the bank of a gently flowing river. She reflected the light of the moon and stars on her surface. I don’t know why I say her, except the whole place felt like a HER. Warm. Nurturing. Kind. Maternal.

  I walked along the bank, unafraid of the darkness overspreading the woods. I crouched down to inspect the deep water and caught my own image. I didn’t recognize myself, as I looked both young and old at once, depending on how I turned my face.

  I knew why this was all so familiar! I’d been to this river before! It was near Harvest Home, where we often hiked as kids. A favorite game of ours was to stare at our reflections in the water at night, and ask whom we would marry.

  River deep and river bright

  Show us who we’ll wed tonight!

  Eve’s answer was like a roulette wheel, with innumerable faces appearing one after the other. She never got the same face twice, which suited her fleeting nature.

  Merry never got an image at all, just simply the letter J, which in later years proved the game unreliable, since she ended up marrying Frank.

  As for me, the moment an image began to appear, I would slap the water with my hand, dissolving any attempt at a sealed fate.

  I dipped my hand into the water, stirring it with my fingers. It was cool, and part of me wanted to strip naked and swim along with the slow current. But I couldn’t leave this spot, for fear of losing my way back. There was no sign of ‘my child,’ whom the mysterious voice had teased me with, and the laughing had not returned. It was just me.

  Me and my reflection.

  I stared into the water as I had when I was ten, moving my head so that the moon was positioned above me like a lunar crown. The moonlight kissed my hair and nose and eyes, setting my entire reflection aglow. I focused intently, not searching for the face I would someday marry, but for the face of the woman I would one day become. My fiery red hair faded to stubborn auburn, then finally to muted silver. My skin went from smooth to troubled, as the lines of life arranged themselves around my nose and mouth and brow. But through the metamorphosis, my eyes never changed. They were always deep and searching green. Just l
ike Jillian’s. Just like Armand’s.

  Did seeing myself in later years mean I would make it out of the Netherworld? Or was that only one possible timeline? I studied silver-haired Maggie’s reflection again. She looked very much at peace.

  “Maggie… Maggie… Maggie.”

  My name again, this time accompanied by the sound of children giggling.

  Still crouching, I looked around, searching the woods, wondering who they were. Other stolen children? Or beings born of this world? Or perhaps, and most terribly, they were simply young souls, irretrievably lost to the Netherworld.

  I tried to decipher the whispers between their laughs. I didn’t hear a baby’s cry, and that both frightened and consoled me.

  The laughter ceased abruptly. When I looked at my reflection again, I was neither young nor old, just me as I was, with pale skin, a worried frown, and red-rimmed eyes.

  “I’ll never have kids,” I remembered telling Eve and Merry, after our husband-summoning sessions. We would lie on our backs, staring up at the moon, listening to the crickets and the bullfrogs sing their nightly song.

  “Why not?” Merry asked. “You can dress them up and teach them things and cook for them.”

  “That sounds like a lot of work. Besides, Mother says the world’s going to hell in a handbasket. Why would I want to bring another person into this world?”

  “You need to stop listening to her and Aunt Dora talk,” Eve said. “It’ll give you nightmares. Especially when they’re drinking Mom’s ‘Saturday Night’ tea.”

  I should have heeded my own advice, I briefly thought, stirring my reflection with my pinky finger. I wouldn’t be scouring the Netherworld, feeling this incredible void in my heart. But then, I’d have never have gotten to hold him. And love him. And that was worth everything.

  I sat up on my knees, my hands folded before me as my head tilted reverently towards the moon. How did anyone survive parenthood without a thousand scars? Or love anyone at all, for that matter?

  “The truth will set you free,” a giggling voice whispered. I turned, right then left, but saw no one.