by Nat Burns
Yewsy’s face appeared above me. She smiled gently and offered a hand. “Can you sit up?” she asked.
“Maybe.” I took the offered hand and allowed her to haul me into a sitting position on the end of the raised pallet. The pain was blessedly bearable. I moved my hand in the pain easing gesture and it abated even more.
Yewsy lifted my sleeve and ran one palm over the ragged, raised scar on my forearm. “Quite an adventure, we’ve had,” she said.
I saw tears filling her crystal blue eyes.
“Yews, what’s wrong?”
The Jana raced between us. “She cries for Memo. Ohhhhh, it’s so sad, it is,” Tsisi said, wailing in sorrow as she flew away from us.
I turned to Yewsy, my own eyes so full of sudden tears that I could barely see her. “Memo?” I squeaked.
“She mourns. Her join Talew was taken. He died a warrior though, saving RoseIII’s life. And that of the others as well.”
I took a moment to let this digest. “How?”
“They saw our fall from the citadel and RoseIII raced back onto Brinc land to rescue us before seeing the fammies lift us. He wasn’t careful, of course, so was challenged by Givan soldiers who were coming for the games. They detained him and when he tried to use magic, they hit him. With their hands,” she whispered.
“And Talew?” I swiped at tears that would not stop appearing. I thought of his sweet, smiling brown eyes, his need to be a powerful and mature Meab.
“He followed and was caught up in the fray. They used their machines on him. He’s so small...” Yewsy dropped her head and sobbed. I pressed her hand, sending comfort. Sense filled me and I saw how she had been burned in the escape from Avapeony’s room. The burns were down her left arm. She, like me, would be scarred forever.
“Avapeony?” I asked after a moment of silence.
Yewsy straightened her spine and wiped the tears away. “Captured as they tried to leave Brinc land,” she said firmly. “Walsh saw in a vision that she and Ronat have been banished to the dungeon to await Signe’s punishment.”
I sighed and hung my head. All this had been for naught. Perhaps the Morri and Gobbyes were right that mine was a fool’s quest after all. Afton tightened against me but I painfully shrugged him loose. “Leave me be, brother,” I muttered angrily.
“Perhaps it was your anger that defeated us,” Yewsy said, watching my face keenly.
“My anger? Why blame this on me?” I said.
“You started this by speaking of your hatred. You know that hate has to go somewhere.”
“Well, I tried, didn’t I? And got us all hurt...or...or snuffed out. And Avapeony isn’t home...might never come home now.”
“You’re feeling awfully sorry for yourself,” piped Tsisi overhead.
I looked up, adding irritation to my simmering anger.
“You know, one thing I learned from my friend, Wisn, who flies with me all the time, is that you’ve just got to keep going. Giving up isn’t really an option. But...” She paused and pointed one tiny finger to her lips. “There is the Brinc. They’ve become such...bullies...they have. I don’t know why they can’t just get along with everyone. I mean, what do they think their machines will do, benefit them? I don’t think so. How? Can they tell me how the machines will help? I’ve heard that they don’t even use them for anything productive. They just burn Mother Trees and melt the metal. That’s all—”
“I think they make those game machines,” Yewsy said, interrupting.
“And there’s some type of communication device, as well,” I contributed.
“But whyyyyy?” Tsisi persisted. “Is this great Mother Earth not enough for them? Doesn’t she provide all the gaming we need? Have you seen how thin they become? And their fammies? Poor, poor creatures. Meabs have to have their fammies or they cease. They just cease.”
She continued as she flew in circles above us, one finger curled under her pointy blue chin. “We have to save them, show them how misguided they have become.” She balled up her little hands into fists. “There has to be a way.” She flew to me and fluttered in front of my eyes. “The Meab are one join, are they not? One big join? How can one tribe turn against the other? How can this be allowed? I met with the Mothers, you know. They are seeking answers but it’s Dot of Prosee join. She will not compromise. She talks of benefits from the machines. I listened but I heard no benefit. Will we war, do you think? The legend is that war was why we left our home and came here, oh, so many millions of centuries ago. See? Nothing has changed. The Witta Mothers are so frustrated.”
She clasped her hands to her cheeks and made figure eights back and forth through the air as she flashed into invisibility. “What to do? What to do? There must be something else that can be done.” She stilled suddenly. “We need help. Cleome? Can you get us help?”
“Of course not, you annoying fruit!” I swatted at her then hissed as my wound protested painfully.
“Ooooh, testy,” Tsisi whimpered and flew off to buzz around Broc’s head as he bent over sacred writ, reading and making notes. He was very tolerant, nodding placidly as she chattered on.
Book Sixteen
BROC ALLOWED ME to return back to Widdershin a handful of suns later. Though my body was healing, my spirits were not. An unfamiliar depression had set in and I resigned myself to never seeing my sister again. I reunited with Lemon, Saffron, Capel and a wounded RoseIII, but even with them, sharing stories as we made our way home, I could feel no joy.
Memo had returned to her join earlier, and I was somewhat relieved. In my current state of mind, I would never know what to say to her. Talew’s death was on my hands, and it was something I could not deal with just yet.
I had plenty of time to think during the long journey back to our village. About which path my life should follow now. I’d lost my entire join. I could build it back, true, but growing an atrebud at that moment would be impossible. I had no love in me, no life. Would my joy ever return? Of course, but it would be some time. I decided for the time being to experience the sorrow and frustration fully. I focused on healing energy and trying to repair my wounded back.
Afton had shown me what the wound looked like. A long, jagged burn that extended from my left shoulder across my back and down below my waist. It was mostly healed now, thanks to Afton and Broc’s excellent care. I knew it would never fade, and I wore it proudly as a secret type of penance. And a memento of failure.
“The men and young repaired everything,” Yewsy said as she opened the cottage door. “I...I hope that’s okay.”
Everything in the cottage had been put to rights. Tears stung my eyes as I moved forward and adjusted my mother’s scrying bowl slightly to the right, into its precise home. “It’s wonderful, Yews. Thank them all for me.”
“Cleome...”
I turned and looked at her.
“May I stay here with you? I...I don’t want you to be here...”
I leaned forward and laid my head on her shoulder. “Thank you, Yews,” I whispered.
She tilted her head until it touched mine. Our fammies mingled as they hadn’t in a long, long time.
“So what’s next,” she asked sometime later. We had set out a feast of grain bread slathered in honey, grapes from Airgialla’s vines, and fresh foamy mead. Life didn’t get much better than that, but I still felt as though a hedge stood between me and any enjoyment of life.
“Well, I’ll see Lore join first. Then resume my studies. Alongside you. I guess your Mother, as my nearest, will teach me,” I answered. I played with a bunch of grapes, trying to flatten them. I lifted my cup of mead and drained it.
Yewsy stared at me a very long time, until I became uncomfortable under her gaze. “And Avapeony? Do we forget about her?”
Anger rose in me and Afton quaked against my shoulder. “I will never forget my sister. Don’t you think I would rescue her if I could?”
She rose and walked to the door of my mother’s cell, as if pointedly ignoring me. Brennen seemed to be tryin
g to pull her back toward me.
“Yewsy? I would. You saw what happened, how we almost died. How...Talew...how Talew...” I broke down and could no longer speak.
“Cleome, my birth mate, you have never been afraid. You have always been the bravest person I know. Why, now, when Witta clan needs you the most, do you fail us?”
“Fail you, but...” Embarrassed tears choked me. I was failing Witta. Depending on the Mothers to fight my fight. I was afraid, afraid of my own pain from injury, but also the possibility that others might be hurt by my actions. As they had been already.
I stood and strode from the cottage, telling Yewsy I would return soon. I needed Mother Trees to soothe me and provide important answers.
Three dark blue Jana escorts came to lead me to the grove. Luckily, they chattered among themselves and with Afton, leaving me to my gloomy thoughts. Stepping into the grove was stepping into the bosom of our Mother Earth, the orb which sustains us all. There was an unaccustomed silence there, unlike any other location, although it was eerily similar to the depths of Lake Feidlimed.
This particular grove was truly sacred land. Legend has it that it was the final stronghold where the original Sheadha tribe defended successfully against repeated invasions by the Milesian tribes. Located deep into the wooded Meab lands, northeast of Lake Feidlimed, the area was defendable thanks to the magic awakening of the Mother Trees and their keepers, the Morri.
It had been one of the Morri, one named Cleisin, who had, as peyton, begged the Mothers of Lake Feidlimed to form the Silver Veil which would separate the marauding Milesians from Meab lands. The veil made us invisible to Humans and allowed us to recoup our basic tenets of peace and magical harmony. Cleisin had returned to the lake many thousands of centuries ago, but this grove, this sacred place, remained a sanctuary.
No Mothers or other sisters were there, so I moved to the central dais and took a seat on the ancient carved chair in the center.
Sacred earth, precious earth, rise up
Sacred air, precious air, rise up
Sacred water, precious water, rise up
Sacred fire, precious fire, rise up
My chant rose from my lips and leaves began to dance around the bottom of the dais. Afton drew closer. I formed the summoning gesture with both hands supine on my knees. Tree trunks groaned and popped all around me. And I waited with my eyes closed. Waited until the air around me cooled into late afternoon.
I saw the ancient ones when they came close. Fierce, beautiful foremothers, a dozen of them. They were speaking, but I couldn’t hear them. Their dialogue was important and I regretted that I could not take part in it.
Their gazes suddenly fixed on me, so I waited patiently to hear them. Silence grew as they stilled, watching me. Then they nodded to one another as if agreeing on something.
I was inundated with warmth, and I felt a sudden shift in my spirit, a lightening. My mother appeared before me, her hands light on my skin. I breathed in her lemon scent and tears grew in my eyes. I missed her so.
Grandmother Glory came close, her dark-haired beauty still undiminished by age and death. Her smile was gentle and sweet, and I felt love for her swell in my chest.
“You will do what you will,” a voice whispered next to my ear. “You are powerful and good, daughter of DaisyFir Widdershin.”
“I am defeated,” I muttered quietly. “I have no recourse.”
Sighs of displeasure swamped me. Both foremothers spun around my chair, expressing their frustration.
“There is always a path, a new path. An old path. But a path.”
A twinge of pain twisted my back, and I remembered falling from the citadel window opening. No, there was no path, no going back.
“My sister,” I cried in anguish. Sobs shook me as Afton pressed close.
The foremothers, all of them, wailed grief along with me, but only for a short time. Then there was a subtle, silent reprimand. I sat back, mopped at my tears with my tunic sleeve and set my jaw firmly.
“There is always a path,” I said with certainty. “A new path, an old path, but a path.”
I felt new determination flood me. I would rescue Avapeony. There had to be a way.
Book Seventeen
I SAT AT my mother’s worktable and stared at her mystic supplies while Yewsy straightened the cottage then moved to pay the Lares and Fey with food and water. I needed a plan, but my mind was blank.
“Ah, brother. What to do?” I said, petting Afton. He extended a tendril and connected.
“See there,” he said simply.
Puzzled, I looked at Yewsy. She was engrossed in weaving vines neatly around the window frame now. I frowned. “What?” I whispered.
Then I saw it. My path bag and my travel bag lay on a small table next to the working table. Of course. Complete answers had to lie in our grimoires. The two bags and their contents had dried finally, but the grimoires I pulled from the larger pack were stained and wrinkled from the water of Lake Feidlimed. I laid the smaller of the two, my book, to the left and mother’s to the right. I opened her book and smoothed the water marked pages, imparting much love to them. I knew the love would be returned three-fold so I spent a lot of time on this action. Yewsy moved close but said nothing, just watched, mesmerized, as I worked.
Stars we were and stars we be
Circling through eternity
Stars we are and stars we remain
Walking on this earthly plane
We joined our voices in singing the ancient chant three times as I pressed my hand to sections of pages. I continued caressing the book as I waited for inspiration.
“Come on, foremothers,” I whispered.
I saw a spark of color bloom in Brennen, just over Yewsy’s shoulder. She felt it, too, for she turned to study him.
“It’s Afton, too,” she said, looking back at me.
Pain sparked in my wounded back as my hands trembled against Mother’s grimoire. Those hands began to glow, and I felt magic fill the air. “Yes,” I said as the pages flipped rapidly in the magic generated.
Shivers rocked me as the magic dispersed, and I avidly studied the page revealed. It was one I hadn’t noticed before, filled with dark conjurings and hastily scribbled notes along the borders. I realized right away what the workings were for and recoiled in horror. At fifteen centuries only, I had not the ken—or the wit—to take on such a task. Surely the foremothers were wrong this time.
“What is it?” Yewsy asked, moving close. She looked at the book and a small gasp escaped her. “A Diarmin?”
I took a deep breath. “It looks that way.”
Yewsy backed away, waving her hands. “No, no, no, no. We want no part of that.”
“But the foremothers—”
“Are wrong,” she finished.
“I thought that, too, but we both know the book doesn’t lie.”
Yewsy glared at me for a handful of breaths and I watched, enchanted, as her gaze changed, softened. “It would be fascinating. You know, to actually see one.”
I nodded in agreement. Diarmins were the original crafters of Sheadha technology and they possessed powerful magic. But it was a male energy. And their energy was so powerful that they had tried to dominate the foremothers after arriving on this planet, so far from their original home. A great battle ensued with the Sheadha Mothers banding together and banishing them to Endet, the place between worlds. It was an unfortunate decision, for the Diarmins were a necessary part of Sheadha culture for work and for protection. The Mothers had replaced them with Meab males, a somewhat watered down version of a Diarmin.
To call up a Diarmin from Endet was a risky move and at the moment, I didn’t understand what purpose it could serve. I only hoped that more would be revealed to me in time.
“I suppose,” I said. “Any thoughts on why this needs to be done?”
She walked back to the worktable. “Let’s think about this,” she mused as she took a seat. “Diarmins are little, if I remember correctly, yes?�
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I shrugged. “I guess...I think so.”
“Well, maybe it can enter the citadel without being seen.”
Excitement engendered a small fire within me. “That’s true! And they have powerful magic, maybe it can dim so it can’t be seen, even in that weird light.”
“But, will it do something as honorable as rescue Avapeony and bring her home?”
I sat back and laced my hands across my stomach, thinking about it. “There’s nothing else we can do, Yews. I don’t think we can get back in, or at least get very far. And they have Avapeony in the dungeon. I can’t even imagine getting that far.”
“So trust becomes the issue,” she stated.
“Trusting a Diarmin. I never supposed I would.”
A tap sounded against the front door. Yewsy and I looked at one another questioningly. She rose and went to the door and came back with Memo. I rose and embraced Memo, sending affection and sorrow with every sense of my being. I held her a very long time, mingling our fammies and allowing our breaths to synchronize.
“I never meant—” I began when I pulled back from her.
She pressed two fingers to my lips, staying my words. “My brother died a brave death, a warrior’s death. There is no sorrow in that.”
I studied her round, dear face for a long beat. “There is still sorrow,” I whispered, finally. I rested my forehead against hers.
“Come, Memo, we’ll have tea,” Yewsy said, drawing her away to the table.
I joined them, sadness still weighing down my heart.
“I miss Avapeony,” Memo said without preamble. “When do we try again?”
I looked at Yewsy, then back at Memo. “You want to try again?”
“Of course. We have to get her back.” Memo’s dark eyes were wide with surprise. “And we need to hurry. Are you healed enough to go?”
“I am, but I—”