Avelynn: The Edge of Faith

by Marissa Campbell

  I weaved my hands through his hair and gripped hard, pulling him closer. His hands clamped onto my backside, kneading and encouraging me to rub against him. My arousal climbed like a hungry flame licking at dry wood. I moaned with abandoned pleasure as his tip slipped inside me. He remained still, letting me determine the depth and speed of my descent. I rocked, my hips undulating—rising and sinking.

  I didn’t think I could ever get enough of him. I marveled at the way we fit together. He filled me completely, and my body responded by hugging and gripping his length. I craved his touch, and each stroke, each caress, stoked the fire of my passion, making me hungry for more.

  He quickened the pace, his strained breath urging me on. Friction set off a thousand sensations, and I gripped his shoulders. My chest arched as he pulled and lifted, rocked and pushed. I held his gaze, watching him watch me come undone. I fell apart as his own climax crested, pulsing and ebbing within me.

  I collapsed onto his chest. My head rested against his shoulder. “Gods, I’ve missed you.”

  He drew his fingernails up and down the length of my back, making me shiver. “I handled this all wrong. I know that now.”

  I didn’t argue with him.

  I felt the rumble of his laugh. “Not going to disagree, I take it?”

  I smiled. “No.”

  “I do not blame you.”

  “You tried to do the right thing. It wasn’t. The right thing, I mean. But I know where your intentions came from. I can’t blame you for that.”

  He brushed the hair off my back and settled his light caresses on my neck. My body quivered. I scrunched my shoulder to my ear, trying to block his progress.

  “Thank you.” He kissed the tip of my nose.

  I lifted my chin and sought his lips with mine. He tasted sweet and delicious.

  He smiled against me. “Let me get you something to drink.”

  I relented, and he disentangled himself from my clinging limbs. He strode to the table and grabbed the wine while I admired his backside. He passed me a cup and the uneaten honeyed cake.

  I sat back, crossing my legs. A bouquet of flowers and berries tickled my senses as he unstopped the pitcher and poured the clear honeyed liquid. I brought the wine to my nose and inhaled. A mild tingling prickled near my chest. I pushed the odd sensation away, clinked my cup to Alrik’s, and lifted it to my lips. The tingling turned into hot, searing pain. The crystal pendant Angharad had given me to protect against evil burned into my skin. I jumped. The wine sloshed over the edge, splashing into my lap and Alrik’s.

  I gripped the crystal with one hand, trying to pry it away from my chest. My skin puckered and blistered. I dropped the cup on the bed in my struggle.

  Alrik hovered over me. “What is it?”

  I managed to tear the crystal away, letting out a small whimper. The stone had turned a muddy yellow color. “It burned me.” I could feel the tight itchiness of the raw blisters.

  “How?”

  I looked at my cup and then the pitcher. “Don’t drink that.”

  “Why?” He peered into his drink.

  “I think it’s been poisoned.” I threw on my underdress and kirtle and opened the door. I tossed both our cups and their noxious contents into the hedgerow. They hit wood, and the glass shattered, landing in the dirt.

  I handed Alrik the crystal and then grabbed the pitcher. I searched the room for something I could empty the wine into.

  I poured some of the liquid into one of the bread trenchers and motioned Alrik closer. “Hold out your hand. As close as you can, but not touching.”

  He did as instructed. After a few seconds his eyebrows drew together; then he hissed and dropped the crystal.

  The yellow color blended into the hay and rushes underfoot.

  I peered into the half empty pitcher and then turned it upside down, emptying the last dregs onto the bread. A mole’s carcass, curled into itself and rendered even more grotesque minus its head, plopped onto the trencher with a splat.

  I retched.

  Alrik’s face drained of color.

  I opened the door to the cottage and tossed the mole and trencher, wine and all. One of the many stray dogs that hovered around the manor flew out of the cover of the bushes and snatched at the bread. I ran after it, desperate to get it to drop its quarry, but it snapped and devoured its catch, licking its lips before slinking away. It was a mangy thing, skinny and long, its coloring all brown save a white smudge across its snout. I wanted rid of the poison, but I hadn’t meant for an animal to get to it.

  I surveyed the manor. A few people glanced my way as they set about their work. I nodded and smiled, encouraging them to shuffle on. It was overcast and blustery, and the wind whipped the hair around my face.

  “What is it?” Alrik asked.

  “The beast got hold of it.” I pointed to the creature, hunched and watching us from the cover of the sparse vegetation near the edge of the manor.

  He frowned. “I will get something.”

  I nodded and waited, standing guard over the last of the poison-soaked bread. I noticed with considerable disgust that the portion with the mole was gone.

  When Alrik returned, he scooped the vile mash into a wicker basket. “I will toss this into the refuse pit.”

  “I didn’t think.”

  He placed a hand on my shoulder. “There is nothing to be done now. Perhaps we overreacted.”

  As if on cue, the dog edged out of the trees and started pacing in frantic short bursts. Its ribs heaved with rapid panting. Foam frothed from its lips.

  The odd behavior caught the attention of several people, and a group of onlookers gathered near the treeline.

  I watched in a detached haze. Time looped and fell back on itself. The anguish and suffering continued until the dog crumpled onto its side, straining to draw breath. Its eyes dimmed. Its life ended.

  I looked at Alrik. That had been meant for us.

  April 2

  I paced the floor. “Angharad and I have put a plan in place to perform a ritual.”

  “Avelynn.” Alrik locked his arms across his chest.

  I held up a finger, warning him. “Taking back your declaration so soon?”

  He pursed his lips. “I want you to be safe.”

  “Do you trust me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Angharad is in charge of getting me something of Marared’s for the ceremony. I do not plan on hurting her.” Though the gods knew I was well within my rights for retaliation. “I will use the ritual to try to counteract any ill omens she tries to set upon us. It will not stop her from attempting acts of violence, but once Sigy squirrels her away in Bangor, maybe this madness will finally end.”

  Alrik nodded. “This business with Rhodri will end on the morrow. If your ritual can block her evil deeds against us until then, we will be far enough away that she cannot harm us.”

  I wasn’t sure if there was a distance beyond which magic became ineffective, but at least while we were safely ensconced on Raven’s Blood, she wouldn’t be able to poison us.

  I thought of Ingolf, one of Alrik’s men who had told Halfdan I was a Saxon spy. With the Viking camp reunited and Raven’s Blood moored in Llanbadarn’s bay, I wanted to make sure nothing would impact our swift departure. “Marared cannot poison us as long as she doesn’t find a way to undermine your position. Could she get on board? Poison the water supply?”

  “Half the crew guards the ship at all times, but I will warn them not to accept any goods or supplies while we are here. We can get more from the land of the Picts if needed.”

  A knock on the door interrupted our conversation, and Alrik answered the summons.

  “I have the lady’s belongings.” It was a page from St. Dogmael’s.

  Alrik opened the door wide. “She will need the small box. The one with the gold painted serpentine around the lid. Bring the remainder to my ship.”

  “Take them all to your ship.” I interrupted. “I can do this without the book.”<
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  “Are you certain?”

  “Yes. I need only a few things.” Throughout the night, between euphoric waves of coupling, I’d lain wide awake while Alrik dozed beside me. I settled on a mishmash of ideas, coming up with a rough outline for the ceremony. I felt confident I could do it without the book. I followed the lad out to the wagon and waited until he respectfully removed himself from my side. I slipped the key out of my satchel and opened the chest a crack, pulling out my bag of chalk. I tucked it into my satchel. After locking the chest and making sure all of my possessions had in fact made it back from their circuitous journey, I slipped back inside the cottage.

  “Do you need anything else?” Alrik asked.

  “No. Angharad should be along shortly.”

  “Speak and she appears.”

  I smiled as a pair of arms reached from behind and settled around my waist. Her mouth hovered near my ear. “I’ve brought everything.”

  The words were benign, but her delivery was not. My body stirred as her lips brushed my skin, light as a wisp of smoke.

  Alrik watched our exchange with interest. “Perhaps I should stay for a while.”

  “Nothing here for the likes of men.” Angharad smirked and brushed my shoulder as she moved to sit at the table.

  I blushed.

  A blond eyebrow raised and Alrik stalked closer. “Pity.”

  I cleared my throat. “Out with you, now. Let me get this over and done with.”

  The boy appeared at Alrik’s elbow. “At your leave, sir.”

  Alrik pouted.

  Angharad waved, her smile sweet and playful. “See you shortly.”

  I pushed the door closed behind them.

  Angharad laughed. “Your man is going to want your bed tonight.”

  “Thanks to you.”

  “It looks as though you’ve already been busy.” She studied the disheveled blankets.

  The blush wouldn’t leave my cheeks. I tried distraction. “What have you brought me?”

  She held up Marared’s broach. It was the silver boar’s head clasp I’d seen her wear in Dyfed. “Thought it best we knew for certain the possession was hers. It seemed like the best thing to ask for.”

  “How ever did you get it?”

  “Actually, Sigy provided it. She mentioned something about Marared not needing it where she was going. She offered up several crates of jewelry and possessions.”

  “Too opulent for the monastery, I assume.”

  Angharad sniggered. “I’ve also brought frankincense and myrrh and found strips of mace and sprigs of lavender.” She set a wrapped bundle on the table. “I don’t for a moment think they have magical properties, but they smell lovely.”

  “Thank you. I might be able to use them in the ritual itself.” Seeing the herbs on the table reminded me of what had occurred earlier. “Did you have your maids set out wine and stew last night? There were two cups and bread trenchers on the table when I arrived.” I hadn’t touched the pottage on the hearth.

  “I asked them to ready the bed linens for you, but I’d not thought of providing something from the kitchen.”

  “That’s what I thought. There was another attempt on my life last night. This time Alrik’s fate was included in the plot.” I explained what had happened.

  Angharad peered into the cauldron. “Given all that has transpired, I think you should dispose of this as well, before someone helps himself.”

  “I agree.” I shuddered and removed the cauldron from the hearth, placing it on the table. “When we’re done, I’ll take it to the cesspit.”

  “Are you ready?” Angharad asked.

  I referenced my mental tally. “I still need ink, bread, and a small brass cauldron.”

  “Consider it done. Anything else?”

  “No, I think that’s all. While you collect that, I’ll prepare the room.”

  After she left, I swept the rushes, piling them high around the perimeter, and pushed the furniture against the walls.

  I folded the tripod and tucked the iron stand in a corner of the room. Rocks were always on hand to drop into cauldrons for boiling of broth or water or for warming and baking of bread. I placed four flat stones in the middle of the narrow hearth and raked the coals around them.

  By the time I’d prepared everything, Angharad had returned and set her collection on the table.

  “Now what?” she asked.

  “Now you leave,” I said, straightening.

  “Not a chance, my friend.”

  “I don’t want to endanger you, Angharad. Now that Gwgon is clear of the siren’s clutches, there’s no need to involve yourself further.”

  “I would just as soon determine that for myself. The woman is a threat until I see her shipped away and you on a boat sailing for the continent. Until then, I will do my part to see her magic rendered impotent.”

  “I’d really prefer—”

  “Sincerity and sentiment noted. I’m not leaving.”

  I sighed but felt tremendous compassion for her. It had been years since we’d seen one another. I had fallen into her lap with a price on my head and wolves at my heel, yet she had taken me in, protected me, and aided me. “Thank you.” It was insufficient.

  She smiled and placed her lips on mine, kissing me softly. Her fingers trailed through my hair. “You’re welcome.” She brushed a tear from my cheek. “Now, enough of this melodramatic nonsense. Let’s castrate this bicche.”

  I laughed, sniffed, and hugged her fiercely. I would miss her.

  “Tell me what to do.” Angharad surveyed the room.

  I pulled out the vellum, and using a pair of scissors, cut two small sections away. I handed her one piece, kept the other one, and placed the rest back in my satchel. “I promised Alrik I would rise above the petty malicious games that Marared has been playing. As high priestess, I must honor the Goddess in all that I do. Our intentions must be noble, our use of magic for the greater good. Write out your desires clearly, and heed your words. Ask the Goddess for protection from your enemies. Ask her to ward off the influence of harmful magic, curses, or ill words spoken against you and those you love. Entreat her to keep your family and friends safe.” Whether runes, ogham symbols, Latin, or English, words written with intention carried powerful magic.

  “All right.” She scribbled out her petition.

  “Place it in the cauldron.”

  She dropped it inside, and I wrote out my plea, adding my prayers to Angharad’s. I collected what I needed for the ceremony and placed them in a small pile on the dirt floor.

  I surveyed my handiwork.

  “This is thrilling.” Angharad sat on the edge of her bench.

  “Are you sure I can’t convince you to leave?”

  “Not a whit.”

  I thought back to something Bertram had once said to me, “When a rock is thrown into a lake, the ripples cast a wide net, each wave affecting new and smaller ripples until even the memory of the rock disappears. The events leading to this moment had been set in motion long before.”

  Muirgen had charged me with protecting our faith but also with opening others to the possibility of something more. Was that what I was doing here? Could Angharad be a part of that? Somehow carrying on our faith? There was no way to know. I squared my shoulders and tossed my rock. One day, perhaps I would learn where its ripples fell.

  “I’ll need you to be silent for this next part,” I said.

  “I can do that.” She pinched her lips between thumb and forefinger before resting her hands on her lap.

  Standing on the inside, I drew a circle with chalk and divided it into four quadrants. I raised my arms overhead. “In the name of the one true Goddess, I cast this circle.”

  I placed an object in each quarter, symbolizing the element of each goddess, and sent an invocation inviting Her presence at the ceremony. For the northernmost section of the circle, I honored Aine with the bundle of mace and lavender. Their sweet perfume represented the element of air. In the eastern portion, I
scooped out some of the embers from the hearth for Macha, the Goddess of fire. I gathered them in a small pile and set a mound of dried fungus and kindling on top. For Danu, the Earth Mother, I placed a loaf of bread in the southernmost aspect of the circle. For Badb, Guardian of the Western Gate, I filled a cup with water.

  In the middle, at the confluence of the points, bisecting the stones in the hearth, I placed the brass cauldron with our intentions on one of the flat surfaces. I set the jet, amethyst, and chip of linden each on one of the remaining three stones. I surrounded all of that with the myrrh and frankincense. The heat of the embers and rocks warmed the herbs, diffusing their scent throughout the room.

  I’d only ever called upon the Goddess for divination, to ask for blessings and protection, or to impart good wishes or positive futures for my community and family. I’d never attempted anything like this.

  Angharad and the cottage disappeared. I crashed violently into my body. My head was pinned in the wedge of a split post, my hands bound before me. I was naked. Blood and sweat dripped between my legs. Halfdan swung. The whip bit hard into the raw and torn flesh of my back.

  “Please,” I begged.

  He thought I was a spy. Nothing I said or did would change his mind. He grabbed a red hot brand from the fire and twirled it in front of me. He held it a finger’s breadth from my face. The heat seared my skin as it trailed just out of reach of my jawline. He placed strands of my hair across the glowing iron point. The smell of burnt hair curdled my stomach. The locks singed and turned black, smoking.

  He lifted my foot. Searing metal pressed into the arch. I writhed in pain. My neck slipped deeper into the chiseled crevice in the post. I fought for breath. The jagged wood choked and gouged at my skin. I lifted my eyes. “Goddess, I call upon thee. Come to your child, use my body, fill me with your power. Strike down my enemies.”

  Halfdan’s jaw clenched. His teeth bared beneath thin lips. “Enough!” He raised the whip as if to strike me but stopped.

  The crackle of something burning drew our attention to the opened door. The rushes were alight. Flames licked at the roof above us.