by Susan Faw
The main body of Kingsmen hung back from the village as all approaches had to be on foot. Caerwyn, Mordecai, Hud, and several Kingsmen guards continued on and stepped onto the boardwalk, which swayed and creaked as their weight settled on the first of the bridges. Hollowed gourds chuckled as they walked, announcing their presence to any who listened.
Mordecai’s head swiveled side to side taking everything in. He slipped his hand into his father’s, unsure of what the village was about. Mordecai could feel the magic in the air, a rough form to his way of thinking yet the swamp teemed with the essence of magic. He peered that the oozing sludge below the rocking wagon, uncertain as to why they had come to this place. Hud squeezed his hand back reassuring him. He carried the balance box with his right arm, hugged tight against his chest.
Halfway across the first bridge, shadows detached themselves from the huts strung along the intersections and stood, waiting for the party to join them on the landing. A raven cawed from the treetop and a monkey chattered a high pitched babble that announced their arrival as succinctly as a herald’s trumpet.
A tall man stepped forward and gestured with one hand to a large communal hut on the far side of the swamp at the end of a curving boardwalk. “She is waiting for you, sire. Please follow me.”
He turned and led them through the thickening swarms of bugs toward the entrance draped with a cloth woven with images of birds and snakes and fish. He drew aside the curtain and held it for them while they ducked through the opening.
Calleigh sat in a dark red chair of woven vines as thick as a thumb. The chair’s twisted form was suspended from a looped chain of living vines that exited the hut through a hole in the roof. It looked to Mordecai like a child’s swing in many ways and swayed gently as she leaned forward to see who approached from the doorway. Her eyes took in the men filing in the doorway and then she focused on Mordecai. She held out a gnarled hand. “Come to Calleigh, boy.”
Mordecai approached Calleigh and took the proffered hand, hopping up onto her lap with a grin. She rocked the swing while the others watched. Hud took a half step but was stopped by the sharp look cast by Calleigh.
Caerwyn nodded his head in respect, as equals, but did not attempt to approach closer.
“So, child, what do you bring to Calleigh today?”
Mordecai shook the blanket-covered box and grinned. “It’s a balance box, Calleigh, and I know how it works!” he said proudly, puffing out his chest.
“Do you? Well aren’t you a brilliant one! Tell Calleigh. What does it do?”
“It balances the forces of good and evil at a spiritual level. It brings the world into harmony by restricting what will not balance, both good and evil.”
“Very good!” she said, clapping her hands together, a big smile crinkling her cheeks. “And what happens if one tries to exert their will on the box?”
“It will entrap them within the box.”
“Correct. So what was the original purpose of the box? Why was it created?”
“To heal the land and the people. To give them a way to correct the imbalances caused by greed in the world. It is also to give the mortal rulers a place to come and create peace between peoples. The box will right an imbalance both physically and spiritually.”
“You are very wise for one so young, Mordecai. Calleigh is pleased. The king is wise to trust you with it.” She raised her head to look Caerwyn directly in the eye.
“Step forward and petition Calleigh, son of Morpheus.”
Caerwyn strode forward and bowed to the witch and then straightened.
“What is it you wish to ask of Calleigh? Speak the truth in your heart, as has this child.”
Caerwyn cleared his throat then met her eyes once again.
“I come to ask your assistance and guidance. Your foresight is legendary. I ask that you to look into the future and what it holds. There is an ill breeze blowing. You must have felt it too? Alfreda and her people rode to the very gates of Cathair to bring warning of the trouble brewing along the border between my realm and the Primordial lands. It centers on the Highland Spine, and a foul smoke that stings the eyes and clogs the throat is rising from the peaks. If I am to be successful in curbing the unrest I need to know what is causing the smoke. Scouting parties return and report that mountain is erupting where volcanos never existed and periodic earthquakes shake the earth. Alfreda’s people are being hurt, and some have died as a result of the eruptions.”
Calleigh shifted in her chair, her wandering right eye struggling to focus on Caerwyn. “Calleigh can see the truth of the matter, but it may not help you, son of Morpheus.”
Caerwyn frowned. “The truth is always useful. How can it not help? The Primordial are a superstitious people. They see signs and portends in the mountain’s activity. They are rightly nervous and suspicious and interpret the eruptions as a sign of the god’s displeasure.”
“Meanwhile, in Cathair, despite our assurances, the people of the kingdom spread rumours of Primordial tribes sneaking through the hills, snatching the unwary and performing rituals that are known only to their societies. Alfreda refuses to speak of the religious factions within the Primordial tribes, as the sacred rituals are not for outsiders to know or witness. Rumours and fear are fracturing the fragile peace between our peoples. Events are spiralling out of our control. We are on the verge of outright war. Alfreda swears that her people are not behind it, but I need to know the truth of the matter.”
Calleigh closed her eyes, and silence descended. A lone tear leaked from the corner of her eye, tracing a bumpy path over the careworn wrinkles of her cheek. Mordecai reached up and softly wiped the tear away.
When she opened her mouth to speak it was barely a whisper, as though she were afraid to speak the words aloud. Softly, she murmured, “Calleigh knows that the answer is within you, Caerwyn. The people are both right and wrong. A terrible cataclysm is set to erupt and the godlings are central to it. Calleigh’s Seeing Eye sees two paths set before you.
“On one path, world is swallowed by a terrible darkness and shadow spreads across the earth. On this path is the end of all mortal life within three generations of this vision.
“On the other path, the gods cease to exist and so do the godlings. The magical world dies and passes into myth. The world is inhabited by mortal beings, and mortal beings alone with no chance of rebirth.
“You must choose. Calleigh does not know which path is the right one or if you will be successful, regardless of which path you choose. Calleigh does know that if you do not choose a path, the world will be plunged into chaos and wars will ravage it until all life is eradicated, both mortal and immortal. The land will be salted until no life can exist. Calleigh’s, yours, theirs, all life will be eliminated for all time.
Caerwyn stepped back in shock, and swallowed heavily. “All life?” His hands shook and he struggled to control the trembling of his limbs. “Surely there is some other path? Something other than an either-or proposition? There must be something that can be done to preserve all the life forms that live on this world?”
Her eyes opened, glistening bright but steady and bored into him, weighing, judging. “The answer is within you,” she whispered softly, “and you must find it. Calleigh can see nothing more than what she has told you. Calleigh gives you these words of her own free will, at no cost. They are Calleigh’s gift in the hope that you will recognize the way when it is placed before you.”
She straightened in her chair and then set Mordecai on his feet. He gave Calleigh a hug then patted her shoulder, before running back to his father. Calleigh’s eyes followed his progress. “The child can help you. Of that, Calleigh is certain. But it is all I know. Go now, you do not have much time.”
Chapter 12
Artio
The clearing was exactly as they had left it. The fog had cleared, and in its place a steady drizzle of rain soaked the freshly churned earth. Already new growth sprung from the settled ground, a fuzzy green carpet of soft grass.
Hand in hand Artio and Genii entered the clearing and paused at the lip, eyes roving over their creation. Three years they had worked on it, planning the cutting of the rock from the mountain side. For the three years prior to that, they had searched for the precise materials, as Calleigh had been very precise in the recipe to make such a thing happen.
She had given Genii into Artio’s care, allowing the godling to take her precious son from the swamp. His life had been in danger, so she had struck a bargain for his care for all time.
Initially, Artio had been looking for a companion that could help her with her care of the celestial bodies, as it was a lonely vigil, but the humans around her were too short lived. When she’d found the young wizard, it had seemed like the perfect solution.
Of course, Calleigh was reluctant to let her son go and had to be persuaded that the odds of him achieving adulthood were slim. Most wizards and witches did not survive a journey past edge of the swamp, falling prey to the swamp’s hold on their magic.
Their magic was bound to the swamp, and it was a rare wizard or witch that could leave it with their magic intact. Without their magic, they were physically and mentally weakened and susceptible to a magical cancer which infested the hollows where their magic had been, destroying any residual ability until senility crept into their minds and they surrendered and died.
But Artio had surrounded Genii’s magic within her eternal sphere of influence and had been able to shield him from the effects of being isolated from the swamp. They had been together ever since. What she had not counted on was falling in love with the young man as he grew. He soon caught up with her, in mental age if not in exact years, and she planned to increase his life span, as they appeared to be exactly the same age and would be forever more.
So Artio had visited Calleigh once more, when Genii was sixteen, and this time, with him in tow, to receive her blessing and her assistance in not only preserving his life but in making him as close to immortal as it was possible for a human to be.
And now, seven years later, they stood on the cusp of the fulfillment of that dream, to bind their souls to each other for all eternity.
Artio ran down the slope, her cape flapping around her shoulders, to the very center of the clearing. A broad whitish disc sat in the center of the circle of stones, and in its center a shallow basin was scooped out. Around the bowl, partially completed carvings were etched, runes of magic and spirit, taught to them by Calleigh. She had made them practice over and over and over, until they could carve them precisely. There could not be a line out of place.
The first set had allowed for the healing of the people. They had triggered the medicine wheel of the stones, a vital function, as the transformation to a near god would bring Genii to the edge of death. Without the healing of the medicine wheel, the absorption of the moon’s energy would sear him to a crisp before he could be transformed by the moon. A careful balance between healing and absorption, aided by the potion, must be maintained or all would be for naught...and the runes were the trigger.
Genii joined her, and despite the rain, they set to work. Genii withdrew a leather-wrapped pouch from inside his cloak and flipped it open, extracting two chisels and two small hammers. He handed one set to Artio and he took the other and they set to work, chiselling the hard stone until the grey light failed them. As they worked, Genii’s magic flowed into the stone and the lines glowed as they chiseled, the flow of magic sealing itself into the figure. The rock warmed and the light rain made a hissing sound as it evaporated on the heated surface.
As night descended, the ability to see accurately lessened. Fearful of making a mistake, they quit for the evening, retiring to the shelter of a crystal cave located through a rift of rock at the far end of the meadow. The cave had been their temporary home for the last year, and they had been overseeing the construction of the circle from it.
They lit the fireplace set against one wall and pulled provisions from a hollow shelf in the rock wall to eat. A kettle of water was placed on the hook over the fire, and Artio tossed some tea leaves into the water. They did not speak, content to enjoy the peace of their surroundings and weary from the day’s work. As they sat near the warming fire, the light reflected off several thin glass vials, perched on a high shelf. A shimmer of magic surrounded the potions.
Three days. They had three days to complete the runes. Three days.
Chapter 13
Alfreda
The persistent rain chased them down the Cathair road, the great cat that was Alfreda’s mount yowling with displeasure about the mud clinging to her paws.
The battering mammoths, on the other hand, placidly plodded along the grassy roadsides, the divisions of their toes splayed like toes to counterbalance the slip and slide of the soil beneath their enormous feet. They left large flat discs behind them, which would dry to stepping stones of clay once warmed by the sun. Occasionally, they dipped their heads, dragging a tusk through the grasses and snagging a mouthful of the tender shoots, munching as they lumbered along.
Alfreda pulled her hood up higher and spread the cloak over her knees and down the back of the sabretooth to help keep him dry. The cat disliked travelling in any form of rain but did so at her command.
As she raised her head from the adjustment of her clothing, she saw a scout riding swiftly toward her. The captain of her forces peeled away from the head of one column and rode back toward her, intercepting the scout. Then, together they rode toward her position.
The scout’s horse was lathered with sweat from the hard ride, despite the rain, nostrils flared wide as it sucked in air. It tossed its head as it was pulled to a halt in front of the great cat. The sabretooth paused, tail flicking, eyes narrowed at the snorting beast. The horse noticed the cat at the last minute and shied, nearly unseating its rider.
“My lady!” the scout said, recovering his balance. “I bring you grave news. There is a large Primordial force about twenty miles ahead. The flesh clans are on the move! They look to be headed toward Cathair.”
“Toward Cathair?” she said sharply. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, my lady! I would put their numbers at two thousand strong, and they have a high priest with them!”
“High priest? Which one?” The scout shrugged, and Alfreda’s frown turned into a scowl. “How dare they move onto this soil without my express permission! Return and bring this high priest to me, immediately! This is my command and so it shall be.”
Captain Enyeto cleared his throat. Alfreda’s eyes slid over to meet his grey ones. “You have something to add, Captain?”
He nodded. “The location of such a parley should be neutral. It is too great a risk to bring the two clans in close proximity. May I suggest we pick a location and invite them to meet with us? There is a good place about a day’s ride from here, a natural amphitheatre. Command that they bring no more than three Primordial, including the high priest, and we do the same. Any accompanying guards must be left behind half a league from the meeting location.”
“Excellent suggestion.” Alfreda turned back to the scout. “Take these words to the high priest.” As he made to turn away, she grabbed the scout’s sleeve “Tell them, that if they fail to appear, I will be sorely displeased.”
The scout nodded and raced away.
Captain Enyeto tugged on his reins and dropped in beside Alfreda. His hand wandered to his mustache and he smoothed it with two fingers, a nervous habit of his especially when he feared his words were bound to be contentious.
He cleared his throat. With a rumbling catch in his voice, he said, “They can be here for only one reason, my lady. They are here to appease the silence of the gods. They are here to find a sacrifice.”
“Ridiculous. I have forbidden it.” She tightened her knees, squeezing harder than she intended and the cat quickened his pace, so that Alfreda jumped ahead of the captain.
He urged his mount forward and parallel to hers once again. “They cannot be allowed to roam the land. It would be
an act of war against Cathair, and especially if they start taking human sacrifices.”
Alfreda scowled at her captain but did not answer.
“Negotiation will fail, and every step they take into the country will escalate the tensions. There is only one solution. They must join their will to ours and submit their high priest as a token of peace.”
“They will refuse to give up their high priest! He is sacrosanct. No one may touch a priest.”
“Exactly...that is why we must take him while he sleeps.”
“What do you propose?”
“We kidnap him. If we control the priest, we control the army.”
She shook her head “It’s too dangerous. He will be heavily guarded.”
“Then he must be assassinated.”
“What?”
“If he is dead, the reason for coming here is gone.”
“Temporarily, yes, but at what cost? Do you really think they will not seek revenge?”
“Pardon, my lady, but isn’t it part of the ritual of the high priests to have their people drink of the blood of the sacrifice to bind them to the priest?”
She nodded, staring straight ahead.
“Then you must strike the snake in the head to kill the body. Anything else is giving license. My lady.” He ducked his head in respect.
They rode in silence for a while, the persistent drizzle obscuring her view of the battering mammoths by the roadside. Alfreda sighed and adjusted her hood when a drip splashed onto her nose. She sighed again, and then the hood turned slightly.
“Set it up. I do not want to know the details.” The hood straightened, and she nudged her cat into a lope, leaving her captain behind.
