Shadow Dreams (Oracle Dreams Trilogy Book 2)

by Teri Barnett

  “Papa, I have to know what happened,” she pleaded, turning her attention to Abraham. “Tell me.”

  “I know, I know you want me to explain but I don’t know. I don’t remember. She was here one moment and then… she was gone.” He wrung his hands together, his eyes darting back and forth between Bethany and the fire. “What’ll we do without her? She’s my sun.”

  Bethany took a deep breath, steadying her nerves, then placed her left hand in the center of Abraham’s back. “I’m going to help you remember, Papa.”

  He pulled away from her touch. “No! I don’t want to remember. It’ll hurt too much. She’s gone. She’s gone.” He shook his head and moaned. “That’s all there is to know, Daughter. Truly, it is. Let the butterfly be.”

  She placed her hands on his face and turned him to face her. His eyes shone with the crazed light of someone who hadn’t slept in days. As she continued to stare at him, she felt the subtle vibration that happened when her eyes turned from their natural topaz to clear azure. The fire penetrated her and she drew from its strength. A fine layer of sweat covered her body.

  Bethany applied pressure to Abraham’s back with her left hand; with her right, she kneaded his solar plexus. She saw the multi-hued colors of his aura and sought to repair the tears to the green heart center by the trauma of his granddaughter’s disappearance. The tears and gashes in the very fabric of his energy were deep and filled with panic and fear. She continued to focus on making them whole, closing the openings, drawing out the poison of the pain. As the wounds closed, and he became whole once more, she closed her eyes and let her hands drop.

  Abraham gasped and fell forward, his head barely missing the raised hearth. Ian rushed to his side and helped him to his chair. “Are you all right, Beth?” he asked as he helped the older man settle.

  Bethany didn’t answer. She clutched the cup of now cooled bitters and downed it in one long drink. She tried to put the vessel back on the table, but her hands shook so violently, Ian had to take it from her.

  “I remember now, Daughter,” Abraham whispered.

  Bethany closed her eyes, bracing herself. “Tell me.”

  “Four days ago, I was working in the yard, cleaning up wood shavings. I had just finished a totem for the Krueg clan. Their grandmother, Maryl, died the last night of the Red Moon.” Abraham’s voice was low and raspy. Ian poured him a cup of the hot drink. Abraham nodded his thanks and took a small sip.

  He continued, “Sarah was playing near the trees. I said, ‘Don’t go near those woods, girl. The Eitellans’ll get you.’ ”

  Bethany shivered upon hearing the old warning. “Then what?”

  “You know your daughter, Bethany.” He shook his head. “She’s as stubborn as you are. I went inside for a moment and when I came out, she was gone. I assumed she had gone to play at Herran’s. You know how inseparable those two girls are.”

  He smiled for a moment, lost in a memory. “Well, when she didn’t come home that evening, I went to Herran’s house. They hadn’t seen Bethany all day. After that, I went to every door in Paran, looking for the child. The next morning, I found this about a half a mile into the woods.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a bright yellow hair ribbon. “She was wearing it that day,” Abraham said, his voice breaking. He held the ribbon to his nose as if to inhale her fragrance. It caught the tears as they streamed down the old man’s cheek.

  Bethany reached out her hand and Abraham placed the damp ribbon ever so gently into her palm. Bethany clutched it to her breast.

  “Beth, are you sure you should be doing this? Perhaps we ought to find someone else,” Ian offered.

  “No, Ian. I’ll do it myself. I have to know what happened.” She braced herself as the familiar vibration filled her and she slipped into the Knowing.

  Chapter 4

  Sarah, so bright and full of life, was dressed in her favorite pink tunic and knee high tan boots. She ran, dodging the tall conifer trunks, chasing a small rodent. Her laughter filled the air like the sound of tinkling wind chimes. Bethany smiled. The furry animal scurried under a fallen log. Sarah climbed on top of it.

  “Please, little friend, come out and play some more,” she begged, leaning over. Then, as if sensing another’s presence, Sarah straightened and turned around. A short, squat woman dressed in a dark flowing robe approached.

  “My, my. What have we here?” the woman asked.

  Sarah took a step backward and stumbled off the log. The woman moved as fast as her bulk would allow. She caught Sarah by the hand and pulled her upright. Sarah laughed and curtsied. She slipped and started to fall again, but managed to regain her balance. “Who are you?” she asked, her eyes wide.

  “Why, I’m Esther, little one.”

  “Do you live in the woods? I’ve heard stories about people who live with the trees. Do you turn into a tree at night?”

  “So many questions!” Esther chuckled. “I live hereabouts,” she said, her arm moving in a wide sweeping motion. “And no, I do not turn into a tree. That’s just pretend.” She smiled, taking a step closer to Sarah. “Would you like to come and play with me today? I have a friend who’d love to meet you.”

  Sarah hesitated for a moment. “If I do, I need to first ask my Grandfather if it’s all right to visit with you. I’m not supposed to wander off. Everyone says the Eitellans will get me if I do.”

  “Oh, now, I know your grandfather very well. We won’t be gone too long and I promise to have you home for the evening meal and I’ll take him a loaf of my fresh baked bread. Is that all right with you?”

  “Well, I guess so.” Sarah shrugged her shoulders and jumped down from the log. She took hold of Esther’s hand.

  “Have you ever met a real priestess before?” Esther asked.

  Sarah shook her head and, as she did so, the ribbon slipped out of her hair and fell to the ground.

  Bethany exhaled, not realizing she had been holding her breath. “Oh, Papa,” she whispered. She laid her head down, resting it on her arms. Her body shuddered, wracked with deep sobs.

  “What did you see, Beth?” Ian asked, his voice quiet and gentle.

  She shook her head. Ian placed one hand on her shoulder; with the other, he caressed her cheek. “Please, let me help you. You know I care about you and Sarah.”

  She sniffed and blinked hard, fighting to control the tears. “A short heavy-set woman took her away. The woman–Esther–she wore a dark robe.” She struggled with the memory and what it meant. “She mentioned something about a priestess.”

  “A priestess! But there’ve been no priestess cults since…since…”

  Bethany finished the sentence for him. “Since the Eitellans.”

  Bethany paced the floor of the small house while Abraham and Ian slept. The heavy planks groaned their protests as she passed in front of the hearth. Her sadness embedded itself into her bones and wouldn’t let her rest.

  Over and over, she replayed the scene of Sarah’s encounter in the woods. Could all of this be connected? First, the discovery of what appeared to be the Book of Eitel, then, Sarah’s disappearance in the forest—to meet a priestess. Were any other children missing? According to legend if so, did it mean the re-emergence of the Eitellans? Come first light she would find out if more children were missing. She would also seek out a Weaver to help her make sense of the stories, and her visions of Elizabeth Jessup.

  Abraham rose early, as he usually did. In his old age, he rarely needed much sleep. He found his daughter slumped over in a chair near the fire, asleep. Her hair, like a golden curtain, brushed against the floor. He walked over and pushed it away from her face. She stirred. “Peace to you, my child.”

  “Peace to you, Father,” she murmured, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

  Abraham grunted as he settled himself into the chair opposite hers at the table. “Have you slept much?”

  �
��Not really. The visions won’t let me.” She picked up the pitcher of bitters from the night before. It was stone cold, but she didn’t care. She poured a cupful and took a sip. She shivered as the drink made its way to her stomach, feeling the coldness move throughout her. “Do you know if there are other children missing from here, Father?”

  “Well, now that you mention it, I haven’t seen any of the little beggars lately. You know, the ones who stay near the square looking for handouts? People were saying they probably wandered off into the woods, but they’ve been gone for quite some time. And they always come back, especially with winter approaching.” He shook his head sadly, dropping his chin to his chest. “I didn’t think of it when Sarah disappeared. So many babes.”

  Bethany’s stomach dropped, her worst fears realized. But how do you fight against what you don’t understand? “I need to find a Weaver, Papa, to help me understand the old legends of the Eitel. Do you know any who might still carry those stories with them? It seems a dying knack.”

  He poured himself a cup of the cold beverage and sipped, deep in thought. He drummed his fingers against the tabletop. “Yes, actually. There’s one who lives down by the river. Her name’s Maud Hekate. Now that I think about it, she stopped by last winter, on her way to town. She was looking for someone to apprentice so her stories wouldn’t be lost.” He rose and began to walk toward the front door. “I don’t know what’s happened to my mind. I should’ve remembered that.”

  “Where are you going, Father?” Bethany asked.

  He turned around and looked at her curiously. “Why, to find the Weaver.”

  Bethany stood. “Please stay here, in case Sarah returns.” Though as she said it, she knew it wouldn’t happen. But she couldn’t bear it if something happened to him as well.

  “Oh. Yes. Of course, Daughter, I’ll wait here. You’ll send for me if you need my help?”

  She hugged him tight then kissed his cheek. “I will.”

  Bethany slipped from the house, leaving Ian dozing in a padded chair and her father sorting wood into piles on the front stoop. She made her way down a path at the far end of their land and headed for the river. The water wasn’t far, maybe only a quarter day’s walk, and it felt good to Bethany to move. She picked up the pace to a trot and wound her way through the path between the trees.

  This is what she needed. To stretch her body and work out the pain, to let what she’d seen in the Knowing settle so she could make sense of it.

  Her mind cleared and she felt a renewed hope, filling her like the pine scent that surrounded the forest. I will find you, Sarah.

  Approaching the riverbank, Bethany scanned up and down, looking for the Weaver’s dwelling place. Then, she spotted it; about midway across to the other side was a small island with a mud hut situated at its center. Bethany waded into the river and swam toward the land. Her clothing, wet and heavy against her skin, slowed her progress. She stopped and treaded for a moment, catching her breath.

  Suddenly, a stone splashed near her head. She looked up abruptly. An old woman stood on the island’s shore, getting ready to toss another rock. Bethany ducked under the water and resurfaced about five feet away just as it came her way. “Stop!” she yelled. “I’m not going to hurt you!”

  “Go away!” the woman spat back. “I don’t want any visitors.” She threw a stick, then went back inside her hut, slamming the door behind her. Bethany continued to swim in the island’s direction, ignoring the warning.

  The old one has been alone too long, the solitude has affected her mind.

  Reaching the shore, Bethany rung her hair and clothing out as best as she could, shivering at the chill. She stepped onto the wooden stoop and knocked on the door.

  “I told you to go away,” came the muffled voice from within.

  “Please, I need to speak to a woman named, Maud Hekate. Are you Maud?” Bethany called through the moss-covered wood.

  The door flung open, almost knocking Bethany off her feet. The old woman stood in the doorway, her stooped shoulders draped in a blanket. Her long gray hair was matted and full of twigs. “What if I am? What’s it to you?”

  “I have need of a Weaver,” Bethany explained.

  “Too bad. Go away.” Maud started to pull the door closed, but Bethany grabbed it and forced it open.

  “I won’t go away until you tell me the old stories of Eitel.”

  The old woman retreated slightly. “I don’t tell those stories to just anyone, you know.”

  Bethany sighed. “I’m sure you don’t, but I’d like to ask you to make an exception. I could pay,” she offered.

  Maud snorted at first then her eyes narrowed as she looked past Bethany’s shoulder.

  Bethany turned around. All she could see was a pile of soggy driftwood near the water’s shore. It was covered with seaweed and the remains of barnacles that the birds had missed. She turned back to Maud. “Well?”

  “Hmmph, you certainly can’t come into my home dripping water everywhere, now can you? You see that pile of wood?”

  Bethany nodded.

  “It needs to be dried out for firewood. Take each piece and lay it flat behind the house where the sun’s sure to hit it. When you’re done you should be good and dry. Come see me then.” She sniffed. “Maybe we’ll talk.”

  Bethany straightened. “I don’t have time for this, Maud. I need answers right away.”

  Maud waved her hand as she entered the hut. “Don’t we all, child. Don’t we all.” She closed the door behind her.

  Bethany stood with her hands on her hips, staring after the old woman. She checked the sun’s path. It was almost noon. Well, it looked like Maud wasn’t going to come back out until the work was done.

  She took a deep breath and walked over to the woodpile. It was at least a foot taller than she was. Unable to reach the top, Bethany decided to pull a log out from the middle. This was her first mistake as everything started to tumble down, part of it splashing into the water. Bethany kicked at a branch in frustration, yelping when it hurt her toe.

  Enough! Pay the price so you can hear about Eitel.

  Leaning over, she began to gather the smaller logs into her arms and tote them to the area Maud had indicated. As the sun approached the horizon, Bethany had finally finished.

  She was sitting on the front stoop, catching her breath, when Maud walked out. “So, I see you’re done.”

  “Did you think I wouldn’t finish?” Bethany asked.

  “Oh, I knew you would, if you wanted to know the stories bad enough, that is.”

  “Are you saying I had to do this to prove I really wanted to hear about Eitel?”

  “Uh-huh, that’s exactly what I’m saying.” She stood. “Well, what are you waiting for?” She turned around and walked back into the hut. “Come on in.”

  The opening was small, and Bethany had to duck to pass through the entry. Once inside, her senses were assaulted with the smell of soured meat and bitters. She looked around and found a small armless chair near the fire. She waited until Maud was settled, then sat down opposite her.

  “Eitel, you say?” Maud asked quietly. “I haven’t had to weave those stories in a long time. No one cares much any more about them. Why do you want to know?”

  “My daughter is missing. She was taken to see a priestess.”

  “A priestess! Do you know that for certain?” The old woman’s eyes glistened in the firelight.

  “I’m a Knower. I’ve seen the vision,” Bethany stated simply.

  Maud nodded slowly. “I should’ve guessed.” She closed her light-colored eyes and when she opened them, they were a bright blue. Bethany caught her breath. Maud was a Knower too!

  “Why has a Knower become a Weaver?” Bethany asked quietly.

  “The same reason a Knower becomes a Healer. To give us the opportunity to concentrate on something else outside of ourse
lves.”

  The woman had read her. Bethany nodded in understanding. No one could be in the Knowing all the time as the sights would drive them crazy. They needed a distraction from their own minds.

  Maud raised her hands in front of her and slowly strummed her fingers against the air. Dimly lit sparks formed, becoming long, thin lines of light, forming a warp. Once the warp had fully manifested, she started working on the weft. Bright, colorful lines emerged from her fingers as her hands moved in graceful swirls in the air.

  “Hundreds of years ago, there lived a simple man, a man called Eitel. His aspirations were not great until the day a visitor from another plane approached him, a woman called Yongi. She was an evil priestess and sought to expand her power. Yongi fell in love with Eitel and shared her magic with him, making him all-powerful—a god.

  “She lured women to serve as his priestesses under her. She was the first High Priestess.”

  Bethany sat transfixed as the strands became brighter and more colorful with the telling of the tale. Red, blue, green, the weaving began to resemble a cloth made from multi-colored fabric. The fabric of light continued to expand as Maud continued to pass her hands over the illuminated strands.

  “A scribe among them put Yongi’s magic words to paper and created the Book of Eitel. When the task was complete, the man was killed to insure his silence. This book contains the secrets of their cult. The secrets of traveling between the planes. The secrets of immortality.” Maud paused, taking a deep breath. The cloth was almost complete. “But it is said only the high priestess can live forever and she must do this through the sacrifice of others. She seeks children and drains the very souls from their bodies, absorbing all the years of life they had ahead of them.”

  “Do the children die then?”

  “No, according to legend, they only die if the forms are not cared for properly. They enter a state of perpetual sleep. It is in the priestess’s best interests to see the bodies cared for, for if one of them deteriorated she would lose that soul and its years.”