by Lawna Mackie
Enchantment
Lawna Mackie
Copyright ©2013 Lawna Mackie
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
www.lawnamackie.ca
Enchantment 2nd edition
Acknowledgements
Thank you to my wonderful friends who have always believed in me. Myriah and James, I will forever be indebted to you. Sandy, you inspire me to write and to my husband…well I don’t have enough words in my head to describe how much you mean to me. I love you all.
Chapter One
Distant thunder rumbled through the darkened sky. The black clouds churned and rolled across the horizon Meeka searched for a recognizable landmark. A momentary shiver of panic skittered down her spine. She recognized none of the trees on the riverbank. She’d gone past her usual turn-around point.
Meeka glanced at the dial on her watch. “Damn, it’s way past noon.” Annoyed, she glanced around. “Where did the time go?” Exhaling sharply, she scolded herself for forgetting to stay focused. Frustration boiled like the storm that gathered above her.
The wind howled, forming white-capped waves. Hungrily, they lapped at the sides of her wooden canoe. Common sense dictated a quick return to shore; it was too dangerous to be out on the water. Still, Meeka couldn’t help the tiny wish that the water would take her someplace far away from all her worries.
At the age of twenty-five, she still loved fairy tales. Perhaps the soft green moss, sweeping cedar evergreens, and rainbow-hued wildflowers were cleverly concealing homes of fairies and sprites. Peacefulness seeped into her soul.
Hidden far within the mountains, the winding stream remained secluded. It was her place, the one refuge in her dreary life. The air was infused with joy embodied in the smell of warm Earth and soft leaves, a welcome reprieve from the stench of stale alcohol and ashtrays.
Her stomach twisted at the memory of the early-morning phone call from her parents. Their slurred words made it apparent they were drunk, again.
Unable to stop her thoughts, she continued to let her canoe drift farther down the stream while she reflected on her early morning mishap—in particular, the screeching ring of the telephone ruining what had appeared to be a very relaxing morning. In an instant, her thoughts cascaded back in time.
For a split second, her eyes closed. Anger and resentment clawed at her stomach. Her beautiful world disappeared, replaced by the smell of cigarettes and harsh words. The scenario played out the same way every time, but sometimes it was worse than others—especially if her parents had been fighting. Heeding their calls led her home to a cluttered space filled with empty bottles, full ashtrays, and hatred. Each time, she lost a piece of her soul.
Meeka groaned in frustration, opening her eyes. She picked up the receiver with a happy “Hello”. Her heart stuttered at the faint hiccup before a familiar voice filled her ear.
“Hello, daughter,” her father slurred. “I hope I haven’t caught you at a bad time.” He hiccupped.
Meeka swallowed against the cotton in her mouth, her hands trembling. She wished her hands could slide through the telephone line so she could wrap them around her father’s neck. She knew the sound of those words all to well. Sad memories washed over her. He’d been drinking again, and she was certain her mom had followed along.
It didn’t matter how many times they drank themselves into oblivion, Meeka could never rid herself of the painful memories. The cursing, hurtful words never went away. It always left her wondering how they didn’t kill one another.
Most times, he sounded so sweet trying to coerce her to come to them, but not this time. After the drunken binge, it seemed to be a form of redemption for them. She’d clean the mess, tend to her mother’s cuts and bruises, and agree with everything her father said.
“Dad, I’m not going through this again!”
“Now, daughter,” he sneered. “Your mother and I need—”
“No!” Meeka yelled, cutting him off. The emotional roller coaster ride they’d put her through would never end. It had to stop. “I can’t do this again. I won’t do this again. I’m through with the two of you always being drunk. I’m not coming over. Don’t call me again until you stop drinking.”
With tears brimming in her eyes, Meeka slammed the telephone down with shaky hands. How could they do this to her over and over? She’d had enough! If only she could turn off her heart and stop caring.
Sinking into the couch with her face buried in her hands, the sob escaped. But the phone rang again, forcing Meeka out the door. This was her way of coping—run away.
Escape. Go somewhere. Go anywhere! Just get away from them.
A gentle pressure against her leg brought her back to the present. Her feline companion, Catz—her one true gift from God—a snow-white, fluffy cotton ball with a little pink nose and big, bright eyes the color of sapphires.
Meeka stared down at Catz. The furry critter looked up at her with love and compassion. Catz always knew when she was depressed, and never failed to make her feel better.
Meeka sniffled, wiping the last of her tears away. “Okay, Catz. I’m done with crying.”
Goosebumps formed on her arms. Hoping the sun would come back and the storm would stay away didn’t seem to be working. The breeze blew a wisp of her unruly, long, sable hair from the confines of her braid. The loose strand annoyed her.
Over the edge of the canoe, her reflection stared back. Her hair complemented her violet eyes, dark lashes, and tanned face. In her opinion, her eyes were her one redeeming feature. Droplets of water falling from the paddle distorted her image, leaving a more accurate picture than the beauty so many said she was.
Catz sat precariously on the bow, pretending to navigate. Meeka laughed, certain the temperature change suited her friend “That’s better, isn’t it, Catz—cooler for you, my giant snowball.”
The sky darkened, the grey clouds quickly swallowing the small patches of blue. Earlier, the blistering sun had enticed her to discard the life jacket, something she would typically never do. The unusual heat sometimes made for some violent thunderstorms, but today, she was hell-bent on pushing her luck.
In utter defiance, Meeka look up to the heavens. “I’m not ready to go back yet! So there!” Resolutely, she focused on spinning a happy daydream, the shadows of her thoughts too heavy for the moment. What would it be like? Somebody who loved her, who she could love, she wondered.
Meeka snorted with cynicism.
Even in a daydream, I can’t believe my knight in shining armor could exist. A fairy tale, that’s what she wanted. Didn’t everyone?
Shaking herself away from the thoughts, she glanced at the meowing cat before focusing on the shoreline. “Well, Catz, I’m going crazy. I’m thinking about knights in shining armor. They don’t exist, yet here I sit trying to convince myself it could be possible.”
The stream narrowed. The trees were taller, and their darker green branches now blocked most of the light from above. As she inhaled, the scents of cedar and moss filled her nostrils. The rich, Earthy surroundings weaved a spell around her, drawing her deeper into the moment. Licking her lips, she could taste the sweetness of the berries that would line the forest floor. She closed her eyes, falling for the magic of the moment, not wanting to pay attention to the black thunderheads above.
A low rumble of thunder drew her attention upward. “I better turn us around.” Wincing at the soft sound of her voice, she felt a flash of guilt at disturbing the silence. Instead of picking up the paddle, she let the craft drift in the current.
The forest beckoned mysteriously, the stream and canoe becoming more shaded with each gentle stro
ke of the paddle. Catz paced at the front of the canoe, giving her a warning look.
Crack!
Thunder boomed through the valley and lightning flashed across the black sky.
The air hung heavy with the smell of rain, and Meeka’s face was abruptly wet. Catz howled, giving a new definition to the phrase pissed-off, and swished elegantly under the covered portion of the bow.
The rain intensified, and a blue veil of water descended over her. Thunder crashed above her head. Lightning streaked across the darkened sky like fire. Tendrils of electricity raced along her body like a lover's caress.
“Okay, already. I got the message!” Through the onslaught of rain, she spotted a beaver dam ahead in the distance.
“Catz, I’ll take the canoe out there by the dam. We can take shelter under the canoe and wait for the storm to subside.”
Note to self. Don’t be sassy with Mother Nature.
The beaver dam loomed ahead, a squat wall of mud and wood. Meeka swallowed. Willows, driftwood, birch, and poplar were tangled to form a solid mass. A dark head bobbed in the water for a moment before vanishing from sight.
When a wide tail slapped the water, Meeka instinctively ducked, stifling a screech. The echo reverberated through her. Intent on getting off the water, she leaned over, the paddle slipping into the rapid current. A hard knot formed in her stomach when the shadows gathered to block the meager sun completely.
How the heck did it get so dark?
Crouched on her knees in the canoe, Meeka reached dangerously far over the edge, stretching for a large log she hoped to grab. The sturdy piece of wood would help her get out of the boat.
A massive splash close to the canoe caught her off guard. She swung her gaze over her shoulder, gasping when she made eye contact with a giant beaver. With a gasp, the craft lurched to the side. The canoe swayed uncontrollably.
Her strangled scream preceded the splash of her body hitting the water. Her flailing hands scrabbled for purchase on the canoe, only to have it tip and land next to her with a sickening thud. The current swirled around her legs, dragging her along, and her forehead hit something extremely hard.
Her limbs were bricks, too heavy to move. Her eyes closed, blackness beckoning her. The world she knew went black.
Chapter Two
“Damn it!” Kerrigan roared in pain when his hammer smashed his thumb. Lifting his head, he listened to the growing ruckus of the alarm shredding the silence. Tossing aside the hammer, he kicked it across the floor, his ears ringing. “Alarm off!” His bellow drowned out the annoying screech. His stomach dropped as he thought of some poor creature perishing. A legion of beavers known as the Secret Keepers ensured nothing got past them into the Enchanter’s world. Keeping Enchantment safe often led to casualties of the four-legged variety.
The construction of his library was the newest addition to Kerrigan’s huge home. He spent endless hours adding to his house, when time permitted. Using magic would have been much easier, but never as enjoyable.
A large sigh escaped as he stared down at the thumbnail already turning purple. He placed his tool belt back on the floor and made his way down the ladder to stride through the house, heading to the back door leading to the tunnel. With a wave of his hand, the massive door opened, and he stepped through an ancient carved archway just high enough to accommodate his six-foot-five frame. The intricate tunnel twisted up and down around many corners and ended at a thick, iron-strapped oak door.
Enchantment existed in a dimension parallel to the Upper World, or “Earth,” as some called it. It was believed there was only one way to enter and exit Enchantment, both of which led to death, unless, of course, you were a beaver or had the magical abilities of the beaver. Enchanters made up most of the population on Enchantment, and thrived happily in this world, being hosts to many magical abilities. Enchantment was just that—enchanted.
Kerrigan entered the neatly kept home without knocking.
Todd stood in the center of the kitchen, his hands tangled in his fur. “We have a problem,” he stated without even turning to look across the spacious room at Kerrigan.
Kerrigan rubbed his tired eyes. He had been working too many long hours, and now his impatience showed through his abrupt tone. “I guessed that when the alarm went off. I suppose we have yet another animal from the Upper World trapped in the dam?”
“I…I think it’s an animal.”
Todd’s weak croak settled over Kerrigan. He bit back a sharp retort. “What was it this time?
Did you get it off the dam?”
“Well, you see. That’s where the problem began. I was above, scouting, when I saw a large shadow on the water beside the dam. I needed to get it away from the lodge because I knew the alarm would go off. Unsure of its identity, I swam up to take a look, and that’s when it happened.” Todd frowned, his dark eyes darting to meet Kerrigan’s.
Annoyed, Kerrigan snapped, “What happened? Spit it out.”
Before the words finished tumbling from his mouth, he felt ashamed by his anger. “I’m sorry, Todd. Please just get on with it.”
“It fell in the water.” His tail thumped a nervous tempo against the floor.
Kerrigan knew most animals from the Upper World died when they entered the water by the dam. The strong undertow pulled everything down. He ran a hand through his hair. “What did you do with the body?”
Todd tugged at the fur on his paws. “Well, actually…there are two bodies, and they…well they…almost died, but didn’t.” Sheepishly, he continued. “When the larger of the two fell in the water, I swam away, my intent being to watch from afar, but I realized it must have been hurt before hitting the water. The current pulled it down, and I followed. Blood—or something like blood—came from its head, so I swam closer. That’s when I heard the other noise. The contraption they were floating in had turned upside-down in the water, and the other creature seemed to be caught inside.” His voice dropped into a whisper, and he looked terrified. “Kerrigan…it spoke to me.” Todd thrust his little paws up, and shook his head quickly. “No, wait. It yelled at me. I didn’t think Upper World creatures could communicate with us. I always believed them to be unable to speak our tongue.”
Kerrigan frowned. This was going to be a doozy. This story wouldn’t end well.
“The little one from the floating thing told me if I didn’t do something to save its master, I’d live to regret it. Can you believe that! The tiny creature actually threatened me! I swam closer and…well…before I tell you the rest, promise me you won’t be mad,” Todd pleaded.
Todd never hesitated with his decisions, and Kerrigan had great respect for him, but a combination of sleep deprivation and frustration boiled over. “I’m already mad, Todd. Finish the story, pronto, or you’re going to have a bad case of Itchits!” Kerrigan stifled a shudder at the thought of the tiny insects that loved fur-bearing creatures. Their spiky legs and incessant chatter had been known to drive an animal mad.
“You wouldn’t. I’m sure I raised you better than that,” Todd said with an indignant gasp. “Don’t test me. Get on with it.”
“Okay. Okay. The little one shrieked at me, begging me to save its master. I continued to swim closer, and the large creature looked a lot like an Enchanter. The little it swam with desperation and attached itself to the larger one. My heart broke when I heard the whimpering. Kerrigan, you weren’t there. You don’t know what it’s like! I couldn’t watch them die, so…I cocooned them.”
“You did what?” Kerrigan roared.
Paddy Beaver entered the kitchen, paws planted on her sides. “You two keep your voices down! I won’t have this bickering in my house. We have two very sick guests, and they need rest. Kerrigan, I’ll not have you threatening anyone in my house—especially your father.” Looking from the shame-faced Todd to the dumbstruck Kerrigan, she waddled to the table and sat down. “Behave yourselves.”
Kerrigan remained silent. Paddy had such an air of confidence and genuine care that few ever que
stioned her authority, including Kerrigan.
Enchantment beavers were very similar to their distant cousins in the Upper World, with the exclusion of size and magical abilities. Paddy and Todd, the eldest of the clan, were well- respected in the land of Enchantment. Soul mates through and through, they had witnessed much together. Their ability to keep Enchantment secure from the Upper World meant survival for all the residents of the happy dimension.
Paddy and Todd had raised him from a baby, and always treated him like one of their own. Kerrigan had been abandoned, so the Beavers were the only family he had ever known.
He’d grown up in this home, or lodge, as beavers called it. But the Beaver’s lodge did not represent a typical beaver’s home. Magic came with many benefits, including a kitchen, dining area, many bedrooms, and of course, the large lagoon. The Beavers’ role in Enchantment revolved around this spectacular body of glistening clear water surrounded by large, flat, iridescent rocks and lush foliage under a magnificent domed ceiling. The pool of water was the gateway to the Upper World.
Kerrigan pushed aside his thoughts and focused again on the matter at hand. “I’m sorry if I seem gruff, but you know how serious this is. Enchantment hasn’t had a foreigner in hundreds of years. How am I going to explain this to the Council?”
Todd scratched his head. “Nobody needs to know they’re here. The one creature does look like an Enchanter, and the little thing could be any critter made by magic here in Enchantment.”
Kerrigan started pacing with Todd and let out another sigh. “The Council will eventually sense the presence of a foreigner. We don’t even know why or how they discovered us. They could be dangerous.”
He crouched down, peering into Todd’s eyes. Fear and worry stared back at him. Kerrigan knew as well as Todd that the Council wouldn’t show compassion or leniency for Todd’s decision. He’d have to think of something to save his father’s hide.