Awen Rising

by O J Barré

  They reached what must have been the end of the house and entered a hall about ten feet wide. In spite of the daylight effect, for which Emily was grateful, anxiety pinged her insides. By the time they came to a flight of stairs at the end of another very long hallway, her whole body vibrated.

  Hamilton and Brian scrambled up first. Emily followed, with Lugh close behind.

  “Brian, can you reach that latch?” Hamilton asked.

  The door swung upward and glorious relief flooded Emily’s system. The cats greeted them with worried meows that gave way to loud and hungry ones. Retrieving a can of Fancy Fixings from a kitchen cabinet, Emily divided it into two dishes. Lugh disappeared to the living room to start a fire.

  Brian stood staring at the cats.

  “What sweetie?” Emily asked in that special tone adults reserve for kids and animals.

  “That cat.” He hitched his chin in Hope’s direction. “It’s the one in the picture. Your dad’s gotta tell us tonight, Emmy, or I’m gonna bust from not knowing.”

  She, too, was anxious to hear her father’s explanation about the painting of the woman who looked like her. “We’ll get to the bottom of it, I promise,” she assured. “Want to help your uncle with that fire?” Brian stood suspended, like he wanted to say something, then threw his hands in the air and shuffled from the kitchen.

  Hanging her coat and scarf on a peg behind the door, Emily wondered why Mitchell had insisted the MacBrayers stay in the carriage house. Yes, there was room—besides Emily’s, there was a queen bed in the turquoise room and two large sofas. But it was odd, and she was more than a little nervous knowing the handsome priest would be sleeping in the next room. Cu bounded into the kitchen, slid across the shiny floor, and made a beeline for the cat dishes.

  “Eh-eh,” Emily scolded, using her body to block the big dog. He cocked his head to one side, long tongue lolling in anticipation spoiled. She had to laugh.

  “Oh, alright. Got anything else?”

  “All kinds of people food, but nothing for a dog. Baked chicken, perhaps?”

  “Nah,” Hamilton shook Cu’s mighty head, so that his jowls flapped. “It’s a dog thing. You know—cat food.” He licked his lips and looked wistfully at the bowls.

  “Promise you’ll leave it be, Da.”

  Cu did the jowl-flapping thing again and gazed at Emily with doleful eyes.

  She tapped her foot, arms crossed. “Well?”

  “Oh, whatever,” Cu huffed, and shambled back to the living room. Emily followed.

  She showed the guys to the turquoise room, then went to her own to get the fire going. It had been a long day, but overall, a good one. In spite of the freak blizzard. And being accused by Mitchell and his cronies of its creation. She had earned points helping Lugh at the restaurant and spent the rest of the day getting to know her new family and order members.

  The heat from the fire crept into her bones. She thought of Morgan and her nasty tea. On a day like today, it might almost be good. But in the kitchen was a bottle of aged cognac she’d had her eyes on since day one. Emily rarely drank, but brandy was something she indulged on occasion.

  From the other room came Da’s stern voice and Brian’s high-pitched whine. Emily had known them only a short while, yet their voices lifted her spirits. A door slammed. Emily hurried to retrieve the brandy, plus two snifters and a shallow, glass bowl.

  On the living room rug, Brian was curled on his side petting a purring Hope. Lugh was on the hearth with Ralph. All four looked up, a tad guilty, when Emily entered the room.

  “Where’s Da?” Lugh gestured toward the storm door, eyebrows vanishing behind shaggy bangs. The dog was barely visible through the gusting snow. “Is that wise?” Emily asked.

  “Beats me,” Lugh shrugged. “You try to tell him anything.”

  “HA! Good point,” she chuckled. “Brian, I have cocoa. Would you like some hot chocolate?”

  The angry eyes softened, and he bobbled his head yes.

  “Something wrong?” she checked.

  “Him,” Brian mumbled, jabbing a finger toward the door. “He won’t talk about the picture. It’s not fair. I’m not a kid.”

  There was a light in Lugh’s eyes as he reached for the brandy and snifters Emily held. “No?” he teased.

  Brian heaved a loud sigh. “No. Apparently, I’m a druid. And I want to know why the people in that old picture are here in this house.”

  “What picture?” Lugh asked.

  “OH, GRRRR,” Brian growled. He stood and presented his backside to them, hands held out to the fire.

  Lugh uncorked the brandy. Emily wagged her brows and warned, “Only a bit, please. Me and alcohol don’t mix well.” The druid’s slow smile had her already-tense tummy doing backflips. But she was supposed to be the grand druid. And he was her high priest.

  To put distance between them, she tabled the goblet he handed her and crossed to the door. Opening it a crack, she yelled over the roar of the storm, “Da! Come in!”

  The dog twisted its snow-capped head, long tongue flicking at blowing flakes. “Nothing like a thick pile of snow to make you want to roll around,” Hamilton yelled over the storm.

  “Don’t you dare!” she hollered. “Come in and settle a bet for us.” She winked at Brian, who winked back.

  The dog hesitated, then shook off his snow coat to nip through the door. Inside, he shook again, sending wet globs of snow flying. Emily scuttled sideways, squealing when a fat wad caught her in the temple. Brian giggled. When she did a looney dance to brush it off, the kid laughed out loud.

  All eyes in the room went to the thin boy who rarely broke a smile.

  “What?” Brian planted his fists on boney hips, pout firmly in place. “Sir, you promised. Why does Emily look like that woman in the picture? And why are Cu and Hope dead ringers for the dog and cat? You promised,” he whined, stomping his feet.

  Cu bumped Brian’s chest with affection and settled on his haunches.

  “You’re right.” Ham was rewarded by Brian’s arms encircling his long neck in an exuberant hug. When Brian let go, the dog sidled up to Lugh and nosed the snifter dangling in his hand. “You do know that’s my cognac you’re drinking, eh son? The least you could do is pour me some.”

  Emily leapt to retrieve the bowl from the table. “Here, Da. I thought you might be in the mood to partake, though you know Cu shouldn’t.”

  “Hell girl, we’ll all die from something. Might as well be good brandy.”

  Emily winced. Cu’s dreamy eyes glittered.

  “There, there a ghrá, a little brandy won’t hurt me—or Cu. How ‘bout you break out Miz Mary’s cake and whip up that hot chocolate you promised the boy?”

  At Emily’s sharp inhale, Hamilton chuckled. “Oh, yes, a ghrá. I sometimes hear things I’m not supposed to. Now fetch that cocoa and when you’re back, I’ll tell you all about Brian’s painting.”

  Emily hurried to the kitchen, shaking her head.

  Back to the Beginning

  H amilton herded his small audience to Brigid’s library. Lugh built a fire, stoking the blaze until it crackled. Hope settled on a pillow by the hearth, Emily and Brian claimed the armchairs, and Ralph stayed behind in the living room. Outside, the snow beat against the tall windows, driven to a fury by a wailing wind.

  A series of druid raps sounded from the hallway, startling Emily from the depths of her chair. Cu barked and skittered from the room, nails clicking on the shiny floor. She followed in time to see a picture frame emerge from the underground staircase, balanced precariously in Simon Cobb’s wiry arms. Lugh rushed to relieve Simon’s burden.

  “Simon, my good and faithful servant,” Hamilton gushed, “Thank you for bringing the portrait, my friend.”

  Mumbling acknowledgement, Simon nodded his respects to Emily and the MacBrayers before disappearing back down the stairwell.

  “To the library.” Hamilton lead the way in Cu’s body. Lugh followed with the painting. Brian shoved to the front.
<
br />   “Can I see it, Uncle Lugh?”

  “Patience, boy,” Ham growled. Brian huffed and stomped to the fireplace. “Up there,” Hamilton commanded, pointing Cu’s nose to the mantel. Emily hurried to move the antique clock and other curios, while Brian helped heft the heavy frame, tilting it to rest beside the portrait of Awen. Standing back for a better view, Emily’s insides leapt.

  “Wow,” she whispered, overcome by awe.

  In the center of a glade surrounded by dense forest, Awen stood. Her face was lifted to the heavens, flaming hair curling airborne behind her. A Scottish wildcat stood on one side, an Irish wolfhound on the other. Her right hand rested on a jeweled wand and her regal robes whipped in the wind. The golden torc Emily had first seen on Cu graced Awen’s slender neck.

  “That’s it,” Brian crowed. “That’s the picture!”

  “Indeed, it is,” agreed her Da, flopping on the wool rug near Hope’s pillow. “Now gather round and I’ll tell you the story of Awen and her companions.” The window panes rattled.

  Emily lifted a curtain and peeked out at the solid swirl of white. Shivering, she let go to reclaim her chair. Lugh half sat, half propped on the arm. Ralph meandered in and curled on the hearth. When all were settled, Hamilton sat at attention and cleared his throat.

  “Brian, this woman is our ancestor, Awen. She lived a thousand years ago and was heir to a small realm ruled by her mother and father in the south of Briton. Peace and prosperity smiled on their kingdom until roving armies killed her parents and burned the castle and nearby village to the ground.”

  Grief tore at Emily’s heart. She retrieved the brandy snifter and buried her nose against the cool rim, inhaling deeply of its bracing bouquet.

  “Young Awen escaped with an older acolyte and they embarked on an arduous journey to northern France in the company of other surviving druids. But they soon discovered that the long arm of persecution reached Normandy, too.

  Not satisfied with merely conquering the land and its people, the Pope sought to control their souls. Druid shrines, standing since the dawn of time, were torn down and churches built upon them. The practice of druidry was forbidden by law and carried the penalty of a public and very painful death.”

  Heart near to breaking, Emily bolted a mouthful of cognac to stifle a sob. Hamilton threw a concerned glance in her direction and continued.

  “Druid priests, bards, and acolytes, after ministering to the people for thousands of years, were forced to adopt the ways of the new church or see their communities burnt out of existence. Many were slaughtered, including Felisté, the acolyte who alone knew Awen’s origins.”

  The grief knife twisted. Emily gulped more brandy, welcoming the burn down the back of her throat. Anything to distract her from the emotions ripping her to shreds.

  “The remaining druids abandoned the old ways to escape the bloodthirsty persecution. No longer allowed to honor the Earth or her elements, they gave in and worshipped the one God thrust upon them by the clergy.

  Soon, the old ways were forgotten. The pagans, as druids were branded by the Church, were wiped out. Or so they thought. Awen and a few isolated druids remained secreted in the neighboring realms.”

  An intense loneliness beset Emily and mixed with the grief, creating a palpable ache.

  “Awen survived by hiding in an enchanted forest and living off the land. As the years passed, the world became ever more hostile.”

  “Is this going somewhere?” Brian interrupted.

  Hamilton growled and cast a stern glare in the teen’s direction. “One evening in a blinding snowstorm much like this, a dog appeared on Awen’s doorstep. It was a great shaggy beast with long, spindly legs and a ravenous appetite. It filled its belly from Awen’s provisions, then curled on her hearth to sleep.”

  “Cu!” Brian chortled, bouncing in his chair.

  Emily laughed, grateful for a respite from the intense feelings.

  “That night in her dreams, Awen was visited by her parents, the queen disguised as a Scottish wildcat and her father in the guise of the wolfhound. The two informed Awen she would be called upon to intervene in the fate of the world. But first, the animal Elders would complete her studies.”

  Hamilton stopped to bite at a hindquarter, then straightened again. “As you’ve already guessed, the dog’s name was Cu. The cat’s name was simply Cat.”

  Goosebumps crawled over Emily’s body, though she’d known what was coming.

  Brian snickered, “Man, you’re old.”

  “Hardee-har-har. If I remember correctly, you were the one begging me to tell this story. Now hush and listen.”

  The boy leaned back in his chair, his face twisted in a scowl.

  “Where was I?” Hamilton asked. “Oh, yeah. The dream. Awen woke to find the storm still raging and an enormous tabby, our Hope,” he inclined his head toward the unusually quiet feline, “outside the door, half frozen in the snow.”

  “Poor Hope,” Brian murmured and stroked the cat’s fur. “That’s how I found Cu.”

  “Inside and thawed, the cat reiterated what Awen’s parents had said. As the sole surviving heir of the Mountain Lord and the Lady of the Lake, it was Awen’s destiny to save Earth from destruction.” A howling gust of wind banged against the windows and they all jumped. Emily chuckled, but the sense of foreboding remained.

  “The Elders completed Awen’s training within the year. Soon after, she rescued the young Duke of Normandy from sure death.” Emily’s heart leapt. “Their alliance changed the fate of the world.”

  “William went on to claim England and his reign ushered in a new age. The rest, as they say, is history.” Her Da peered at each of them through Cu’s brown eyes. “Any questions?”

  “Well, yeah,” Brian whined. Emily had plenty but raised the snifter to her lips as a strange exhilaration coursed through her. “You didn’t answer the question. Why does Emily look like Awen? And why are Cu and Hope here? They’re pretty darn healthy to be a thousand years old. Shouldn’t they be mummies or zombies or something?”

  Emily snorted and barely kept from spraying brandy on the rug. Trust a teenager.

  Hamilton chuckled. “Emily inherited Awen’s looks, as well as her powers. Though she’s yet to embrace them.” He glanced at Emily and she felt the sting of shame. “The animals are harder to explain, but suffice it to say that when Awen reincarnates, so do they.”

  “So, the animals are here because of Emily? Or Awen?” Lugh asked. He crossed to the window and pulled the curtains back to reveal the same near-solid wall of snow. The storm hadn’t eased one iota.

  “That is correct,” Ham said.

  “When she appears, they appear?” Brian asked.

  “Exactly. And when the Awen passes, so do Cu and Hope.”

  Emily set her glass on the end table as the enormity of that sank in. She stood for a closer look at the painting and wobbled a bit.

  Grabbing the mantel, she held on and asked, “What is this cane Awen is holding?” It was decorated with jewels and held in front of her like a walking stick. Or a queen’s scepter.

  “That is the Wand of Awen, fashioned by her hand at the bidding of the Elders. It is what she used to control the Keepers and command the Elements,” her Da said.

  Lugh dropped the curtain and joined Emily in front of the painting. “Keepers? A powerful wand? Why have I never heard of this?” He sounded annoyed.

  “Because it was Emily Bridget’s to discover as the new Awen.”

  Brian muscled in. “So, what happened to this magic wand?”

  The dog barked. “It was here at Wren’s Roost. Then it wasn’t. I thought your mother had taken it, but Alexis denied any wrongdoing. Did you ever see it amongst her things?”

  “There was a walking stick.” Emily had often wondered why her mother kept it. Alexis had never hiked a day in her life. “But it was plain. There weren’t any jewels.”

  “No, there wouldn’t be. The stones were removed long ago. Aóme was fashioned from one of
the gems and passed down from each Awen ancestor to the next. But the others, who knows?

  “I have never seen them. It is said that each stone had a special power of its own. And together they are said to give the One who wields them the power to rule the world. Most believe that to be legend.” Hamilton grimaced, showing Cu’s canines.

  “And the wand?” Lugh asked.

  Hamilton sighed. “Security searched high and low, but the wand was never recovered. When Alexis left with you, I knew I had been deceived.” Hamilton turned to Emily. “Whatever became of that walking stick?”

  She grinned. “I still have it.”

  The others gasped. “You have it?” The dog and cat exchanged a look.

  “In my bedroom, yes.”

  “Well, I’ll be blessed.” Cu’s body wiggled in Hamilton’s excitement.

  Hope yowled. “Awen’s wand might ensure victory over this insidious Darkness we know so little about. Where is it, Emily Bridget?”

  “I’ll go get it.” She hurried to retrieve the wand from its hiding place and then returned to the library. The others crowded around to touch it with reverence. Fishing the otter stone from her pocket, Emily unfurled her hand.

  “Is this one of the missing jewels?”

  Cu sniffed the talisman and gazed up at her. “No, little wren. I do not think so. Did your mother give it to you?”

  Emily hesitated. “No. I found it under my bed in the red room.”

  Cu’s tail thumped against the woolen rug. “Here in the carriage house? My, my.” The wolfhound looked at the tabby who was busy grooming her thick fur. “Did you have anything to do with this, Hope?”

  The Elder stopped bathing. “No. Not I.”

  “Then how did it come to be under Emily’s bed? It couldn’t have escaped Miz Mary all these years.”

  “Maybe it did. I found it the morning of my initiation.” Outside, something smacked against the side of the house and the wind moaned, high and long.

  “Maybe,” Hamilton conceded. “But I do not believe this to be a wandstone.”

  “I think you are right, Ham.” Lugh peered at the painting and pointed to the wand. “This top stone looks like it may be a diamond, and this must be Aóme. The other two appear to be a ruby and a blue sapphire. So no, Emily. That is not a wandstone.”