When he turned away, Sherise ran to him, and he let her hug him. Helden held Aaron and little Biton against her as they cried in a way I wished I could.
Instead, I coughed and looked at Jazz. We each held out a hand to the ancient water goddess.
Carmentia stepped toward us and took them both so that we stood in a circle.
Energy coursed through us. Pleasant yet powerful energy.
I took all that I had learned from Dame Corey, and all that I had accomplished in helping to bring the Witch Circle back to L.O.S.T., and I poured it into my magic. Jazz’s witchcraft combined with mine. Silver and gold blended, growing brighter and brighter as it surrounded us.
Carmentia added her own magic, bright, and white, and pure.
I pictured the beach where I’d been headed almost a year ago before Jazz kidnapped me and took me onto the Path. I projected the image to Jazz and Carmentia through my magic and I knew they had seen it when I felt the energy within us grow.
Everything seemed to swirl around us, faster and faster. Silver and gold, and white, pure, pure white.
We seemed to fly through the stars, brilliant light filling my eyes. It was like when the Circle had transported to the Dana’Kell gardens, yet not as crazy or desperate. Gradually the light faded away and the three of us stood on the California beach where I had been headed before I got lost—and found again, in a whole different way. I almost smiled. It was just about a year later, but I’d made it. In a weird way, it really was like finally arriving at my destination.
Fortunately the beach was empty of everything save a few small seashells and kelp scattered on the sand. The ocean air was fresh and clean, the same as the ancient goddess’s scent. She had her back to the sea, and she didn’t turn around. I wondered if she was afraid she’d swim out again, only to stay human and wash back up on the shore with her heart shattered into a million pieces.
For a long moment the three of us held hands, studying one another. Carmentia’s dress swirled around her ankles in a soft ocean breeze and her bare feet sank into the sand. She looked so scared but so happy, which made me happy and sad all at the same time.
Then, as it had inside the magical bonds in L.O.S.T., Carmentia’s face started to change.
She took deep breaths of the salty, warm air, and she shifted.
Still human, yet in a way, not.
“The sea is calling to you,” Jazz said. “Surrender to it. It’s finally time for you to go home.”
Carmentia didn’t answer. Her fingers slipped from ours until only Jazz and I were holding hands.
“Thank you,” Carmentia whispered, gazing into my eyes with a fierce love. Mother’s love. The love I remembered. She leaned forward and placed a kiss on each of my cheeks. Her lips were soft, and the contact sent a burst of warm, comforting magic all through me.
When she stepped back, the emotion in her eyes faded, faded to gone, replaced by something distant. Something wild and determined, but not connected in any way to me.
Carmentia’s head turned from me to Jazz.
I could tell she had no idea who we were. None at all.
My heart clenched as I realized what was happening.
My mother was finishing the change back to her true nature. She was a goddess, a spiritual being, but she was like the harpies and other magical beasts—more creature, more animal than human.
She was a dolphin.
She’d be one with salt and water, and soon, she wouldn’t know anything but the world dolphins and water-spirits were meant to know.
“You won’t remember anything,” I murmured, but Carmentia as I’d seen her in L.O.S.T. was already gone.
Jazz held my hand as I watched Carmentia’s skin take on a sleek blue gray sparkle. Without another word, she flowed away from us in a swirl of sand and sparkles and waded out into the water. Deeper and deeper she moved, her dress soaking as she went. When she was in the water to her waist she raised her hands over her head and held them together.
With a burst of power she projected herself into the air, rising in a beautiful arc. At the highest point of her leap, her body shimmered and shifted into a rounded, powerful form.
By the time she slipped into the water, she was a dolphin.
Jazz and I watched as the dolphin rose up from the water then dived in again several times, until finally she disappeared.
Forever. My mother was gone forever.
I knew it.
Happy, restored, true to herself again—but gone.
I couldn’t speak. All I could do was sit down.
Jazz sat beside me and put her arm around me. The weight of her head on my shoulder held me down to earth, kept me from breaking apart and washing out to sea. My throat and eyes felt dry and miserable, and the sea air made them ache each time the wind picked up.
“What will happen to her?” I asked, the words rasping like sand on rocks. “Will the other dolphins and water-spirits know what she’s done?”
“I don’t know,” Jazz admitted. Then, after hugging me for a long time, she said, “We freed her and sent her home. Carmentia’s fate is of her own making now. But if the witches forgave her, I can’t believe the creatures of the sea would do any less.”
Looking at the waves made me feel sick down inside, but I couldn’t stop. Just in case she jumped again. Just in case any dolphin anywhere jumped. I didn’t want to miss it. “What am I supposed to tell my brothers?”
Jazz sighed and brushed her lips against my ear. “The truth, Bren. As many times as they ask.”
Sometime later, it might have been a few minutes, but it felt like hours, or even years, I finally managed to get to my feet. After a long hug from Jazz, we used our combined magic to return to L.O.S.T.
Instantly, people came rushing toward us.
Jazz and I sent them on their way with a smile or a reassurance. Whatever it took. We stayed for a while, just greeting witches, thanking people, and answering questions. I was so glad my brothers weren’t around. I figured Sherise, Helden, and Rol—maybe even Dad and Dame Corey, had taken them off somewhere. I’d face them later and do what Jazz said—tell them the truth. As many times as they asked. For the moment, though, I just kept smiling and reassuring and answering even though I just wanted to be away. I wanted to have some time to myself.
It took hours, but the crowd finally thinned and cleared, and I felt like we could leave.
Jazz held my hand as we went. So quiet. So understanding. Just right.
We walked together around L.O.S.T., tree leaves swirling through the air in a sharp breeze, the smells of earth and greenery flowing with the wind. I thought a lot, and tried to work it all out in my mind. Jazz remained silent, letting me feel the loss in my own way.
Yet there was that part of me that needed to be happy for my mother. Relief that I hadn’t had to kill her was like a huge weight off my shoulders, my mind. The happiness that she was truly a good being underneath pushed aside some of the pain. And I felt a kind of joy that we’d been able to set her free.
Sometime before sunset, Jazz and I finally wound our way into the glen. The pond waited there, like a reminder, only it didn’t hurt too much. It seemed right. Almost comforting, in some weird way. Maybe since my mother was really a water-spirit and I’d had that connection with her, I’d find some peace or happiness near water from now on.
I took a deep breath and released it, along with some of the confusion, pain, and every other feeling I was experiencing, and let it all drift out over the pond’s surface. Orange-red sunlight danced off the ripples, swallowing it, turning it into something relaxing and right.
I looked down at Jazz and I couldn’t resist. “You know what all this means,” I said, trying to hold back a smile at the same time.
She cocked an eyebrow. “What?”
The grin won out. “Not only am I King of the Witches, but I’m part god, too.”
Jazz rolled her eyes, and I kissed her.
***
Chapter Sixteen
&nb
sp; The next days in L.O.S.T. passed in a jumbled blur, with more than a few aggravations from the boys who now knew they were part witch, part god. If I could have erased that teeny, unnecessary bit of knowledge from Bren, Todd, Aaron, and the other boys, believe me, I would have done it in an instant.
Would you hand that to me, honey? I’m a god, you know.
Jazz, baby. Check out these muscles. Am I a god, or am I a god?
Yo, Jazz. The god has arrived. Did you cook dinner?
Honestly.
He was just kidding. I knew that. And I knew he joked because he needed a relief from the sadness he battled over losing his mother a second time. But that didn’t stop me from wanting to kill him or all of his rotten little brothers. Even Rol seemed puffed up by that annoying little detail of Bren’s heritage.
A god, Your Majesty. I trained a genuine god.
With the assistance of my mother, the Witch Circle, and a contingent of every group in the Sanctuary, Bren and I managed to set L.O.S.T. to rights quickly enough. We purged the evil symbols and bad magic of the Dana’Kell temple, and converted it to a foundling home for Nire’s younger kids and the orphaned Shadow children, managed by both the hags and klatchKeepers with their klatchKovens.
Who knew crones with hag-spirits and a bunch of carnivorous eggplants made such good parents?
They took to the job with an almost frightening gusto. With almost the same fervor, they developed a watch schedule for the zodiac circle carved into the stones at the top of the temple tower. As far as we knew, no one but the Witch Circle had mastered the art of transferring through time and space using the oldeMagic, but better safe than full of regrets.
We also cleared away the jungle of unnatural and wickedly spelled plants, and established a large playground, where the many children of L.O.S.T.—no matter their race, human shape, or lack thereof—could play in peace and harmony. The only glitch came when Rol showed up to spend the night with one of the hags. Mr. Half-God Bren looked like he wanted to gag. Because I was feeling vengeful over his newfound arrogance, I didn’t tell Bren about how hags worked in reverse from the klatchKeepers, who were beautiful to the eye but in their real forms, hideous and disgusting. Female hags maintained a foul facade for most onlookers, but in private often showed their true, unmarred and hypnotically beautiful forms.
“We can tell Bren the truth about Rol’s love life later, right?” I asked Sherise as we watched Bren from a safe distance. “After we’ve had the pleasure of watching him shudder a few more times?”
“Oh, yeah,” Sherise muttered as she finished fixing the hinge on the temple’s front door. “Maybe next year? He’d deserve it. This part-deity routine is getting sooooo tiring.”
“Have you changed Todd back yet?”
Sherise jammed her screwdriver into her tool belt. “I think he makes a great aardvark. Did you know aardvark means ‘earth pig’? Perfect. Just perfect.” She brushed a curl out of her eyes. “He’s wiped out the termite mounds around the zoo.”
Once Todd regained his human form, I seriously hoped he’d think twice about trying to use his superior “god magic” to convince Sherise to muck the slither caves. As he had discovered, Todd had one major weakness, god-blood or no.
He had to sleep sometime.
I sighed. “Rol seems to have Aaron and the other boys well in hand, at least for now.”
“Only because you threatened to send him back to King Arthur’s time and turn the boys over to the hags. Men. They all stick together. Even the bull slithers have been unbearable. All that bellowing and strutting.”
Bren arrived as the sun began to set. Sherise took her leave with a snort, and headed back to put up the aardvark for the night.
“Want to go to oldeTowne and get an ale?” Bren asked. Then coughed. Then coughed one more time. “I could use one right about now.”
I gave him my best stern expression, despite an urge to hug him. “No mention of the g-word?”
“None.” He raised his good hand and grinned. “Deity’s honor.”
I groaned and spelled his hair and clothing spotless. Even gave his hair a good trim. He didn’t realize he had a bald spot until sometime the next day.
On a warm night a few weeks before Midsummer, a small group of us gathered in the great hall for Acaw’s remembrance. The cedar growing inside the walls seemed to stretch out her branches as we stood in a quiet circle, each holding a lit candle.
My mother went first. She passed her candle to me, then stepped up to the tree and said simply, “Thank you, Acaw, for protecting my daughter so fiercely. I owe you many times over.” Around the tip of a cedar bough, she tied a yellow ribbon holding a golden baby’s slipper—one of mine, no doubt. Then she returned to the circle and took back her candle. Shadows flickered across her face, and I saw tears on her cheeks that matched my own.
Bren’s father went next. “Thank you for helping me understand my new world, and the dangers and challenges facing my sons. You were kind to me, Acaw. I won’t ever forget it.” He hung a wreath on one of the lowest branches, and I could see the wreath was made of maps, lists, recipes, and instruction sheets the elfling had no doubt provided to the frightened man when he found himself stranded in L.O.S.T.
Hags followed, and klatchKeepers, and Todd and Sherise, each acknowledging some kindness or life-changing advice. When Bren’s turn came, he gave his candle to me, too, and strode forward with his crow-brother on his shoulder. In his hands, Bren held a dagger and a fork.
“I never knew a stronger, braver warrior,” he said quietly. “You fought like a giant, and your thoughts ran deeper than I’ll ever know. You were my companion, one of my trainers—and you always showed me patience, even when I lost patience with myself. Thank you for saving me, saving Jazz, and for helping save L.O.S.T. over and over. Most of all, thank you for leaving behind your wisdom, and one of your dearest friends—even though I know it’s time for him to go now.”
On Bren’s shoulder, the crow-brother hopped, squawked, then flapped up to the top of the tree. I watched as the bird plucked a feather from both wings and its tail, and inserted them gently into the tree’s prickly needles. When finished, the crow-brother took flight from the open room, and I understood that he wouldn’t be coming back. Crow-brothers had their own traditions and skills, and I felt in my heart that the bird wouldn’t stop flying until he rejoined Acaw’s spirit.
Bren, left behind but obviously understanding the bird’s need to depart, attached the fork and dagger—Acaw’s preferred weapons—to the tree.
I swallowed hard. It was my turn. Only one person after me. I gave my candle to Bren and approached the tree, holding a small bag of flour, one of my diaries, and a charm left behind from Acaw’s magical staff.
“For all the times you fed my heart,” I whispered as I tied the flour to the waiting cedar. When I thought I could speak without sobbing, I tied the journal next to the flour and said, “For all the times you fed my mind.” My hands started to shake as I gripped the charm, not wanting to turn loose of this last piece of my elfling friend—but turning loose was the point of a remembrance. Freeing our love for Acaw from our grief, so our positive feelings could return to the universe and feed the greater good. As I lifted the charm, it seemed to tinkle softly, as it always had when it swung from Acaw’s staff. “For all the times you fed my spirit, old friend. You will always hold a place in my world and my heart.”
I stepped back from the cedar, still crying, but feeling lighter as I watched the charm twinkle in the candlelight. I imagined that same soft gleam in Acaw’s eyes, and knew that would be my memory of him, held dear forever.
When I once more took my spot in the circle, everyone in the room seemed to take a breath and hold it.
Beside Bren, Rol stirred enough to hand Bren his candle.
Then the big man slowly approached the tree.
For long, quiet minutes, Rol stood in front of the cedar without speaking. I could tell he was praying, and perhaps remembering, and struggling wi
th his guilt over the fact that when the Erlking murdered Acaw, the evil little monster had made himself look like Rol.
Rol bowed to the tree, in deference to the memory of his closest friend. Then he slowly removed his weapons belt, which contained his remaining war hammer, his dagger, and the heirloom sword handed down from father to son for all the generations of Rol’s family. He took the belt to the foot of the tree and laid it against the trunk.
Shock coursed through me.
The greatest warrior I had ever known was laying down his weapons.
“There will be no more killing from these hands,” Rol murmured as he knelt, head down, “except to save the life of an innocent. Henceforth, I shall use only weapons that don’t exceed the reach of my fingers—a dagger, perhaps even a fork—except to train those who will succeed me. Henceforth, I shall follow your example and take up your standard of loyalty and silent regard, and battle only to defend.” He hesitated, and I saw his big shoulders shaking. “With war and death, I am finished. Goodbye, my old friend.”
It took Rol a long time to stand, and when he did, he could barely move himself back to the circle and reclaim his candle. I was quite sure most in the remembrance circle had turned loose their tears, turned loose their regrets, and freed their love for the elfling now waiting for us in death’s haven.
We linked arms and let our candles burn, and Sherise led us in a chant to ask the goddess that Acaw’s image be written in the stars of our lives, and the lives of witches to come. By the end, we all sang loud.
We sang our hearts out.
I could think of no more fitting remembrance for Acaw, who gave us no less of himself.
Rol gave his forge to Bren the next day, and split his title of training master between Sherise and Todd, who would carry that honor under his very watchful eye until he deemed them ready to assume the mantle in his stead. I think he would have given those responsibilities to Bren as well, but as he rightly told Bren, being King of the Witches and keeper of the forge left little time for the rigors of training duties. Rol then set about working with the hags at the L.O.S.T. Foundling Home to raise the orphaned Shadow children and to protect and teach the younger members of the Witch Circle. As weeks went by, I often saw lights on in his room, or in the library and archives, which we had moved to the lower floors of that reclaimed temple. What we had managed to recover from the library and archives, that was.
L.O.S.T. Trilogy Box Set Page 66