Autumn

by Lisa Ann Brown

  Shelaine drew in a faintly shocked breath and Eli glanced at her briefly.

  “Soon,” he replied, with a small smile, “but not this evening.”

  Arabel was disappointed but bone weary. “I will see you out, then,” she relented and rose as Eli did the same. After saying goodbye to Shelaine, Eli and Arabel departed for the cloakroom.

  Eli bent his head to kiss Arabel when she suddenly felt the hostile grey energy rear up menacingly within the cloakroom, and against her pale throat, the pressing and insistent fingers of death.

  Arabel sputtered as she tried to breathe and Eli immediately withdrew his athame and began to coat Arabel in a defensive spell. Arabel reached for her athame with one hand - the other was busy trying to pry the invisible fingers off of her windpipe - and was able to whisper in her mind another layer of protection.

  The grey energy reeled and flew at both of them, disarming Eli’s athame and knocking it from his hand. Arabel quickly began the second spell she knew and drew the figures and lines in the air as Xavier had taught her. Eli reached down and reclaimed his athame and with a renewed and concerted effort, the two were able to release themselves from the dark grip of the Dorojenja magic.

  The attack had been short-lived but powerful. A warning, perhaps, of stronger attacks to come?

  “Perhaps I ought to stay, after all,” Eli murmured against Arabel’s ear as they clung to one another after they were convinced that the episode was thoroughly finished.

  “It’s been so long,” Arabel exclaimed, “since it has come after me quite like that!”

  Eli moulded Arabel’s body to his and tipped her face up so he could find her soft red lips with ease. He kissed Arabel deeply, longingly, protectively, and she lost herself in the fierce passion which rose quickly to the surface.

  “Stay,” she implored him.

  Eli stepped back momentarily to survey his beloved. Arabel’s face was flushed with desire, her eyes flashed brightly and her energy pulsed with the heat and scorching flame of love.

  “Your friend…” Eli began, feeling odd that Shelaine, and other members of the household, were present.

  Arabel gazed at Eli thoughtfully. She could feel his discomfort at the thought of her friend’s presence in the house if they were to engage in further lovemaking.

  “Perhaps you are right,” Arabel conceded reluctantly. “But soon - you must promise me, Eli Frankel – that soon we will resume where we left off…”

  Eli laughed easily, humour replacing passion momentarily. “Oh, dear, sweet, Arabel, that is a promise I most heartily will make you!”

  They embraced once more, joining their lips together for another slow and thorough kiss, and then Eli took his leave, stepping resolutely into the still and snowy landscape. Arabel watched as he rode away on Jovah, and she suddenly felt incredibly lonely.

  Arabel turned away from the door slowly. The effort of sustaining her energy throughout the long and sorrowful day had completely caught up with her, leaving her utterly depleted and desperately in need of the magical renewal a decent slumber would provide. Arabel moved from the cloakroom into the hall and then through to the parlour, intending to see to the comfort of her guest, Shelaine.

  After all, she was now mistress of the house.

  A Return Visit

  Arabel and Ira met Xavier at the Lodge the following morning after breakfast. Arabel was ready to learn all that she could of the Gypsy magic and determined to protect herself and those she loved with the strongest brand of spells she could master. A fierceness was growing within her, a deep longing to uncover the dark forces and render them powerless. Arabel wasn’t certain how exactly she intended to do this, but her mind was set upon its course and nothing and no one would be able to dissuade her.

  Xavier did not bother to try. Instead, he concentrated his efforts on providing Arabel with the most potent of protective charms and the deadliest of counter-attack spells. He was delighted that Arabel was such an apt pupil; rarely did she fail to manifest his lessons correctly and if she did make an error it was usually small enough that only a teacher who expected perfection – such as Xavier – would notice.

  The hours passed easily and it was not until Arabel’s stomach gave such a loud rumble that Xavier could hear it that he laughed and mentioned it was time to break for lunch. The two companions walked to the main Gypsy social area and seated themselves on a long wooden bench. A stout Gypsy man was serving plates of steamed rice and vegetables and Arabel and Xavier gladly accepted the food he offered them.

  “Why do the Dorojenja hate Jonty so?” Arabel asked Xavier. It had bothered her for some time now as to why the dark forces seemed so focused upon the small, thieving man.

  Xavier smiled. “Governs is much like you, Arabel. The thief is also a magnet for the darkness, albeit, not a very strong one, but Chauncer likely focused on him while they were working together. And the fact that the thief stole all of the Dorojenja horses and sold them mustn’t be left out of the equation.”

  “But I thought Jonty only stole the Gypsy horses?”

  “That is so, Arabel, but many of the Dorojenja members are unfortunately hidden within our own ranks. It isn’t possible to know who else Jonty might have offended by his prior actions.”

  Arabel was quiet as she digested this information and heartily tucked into the nourishing meal in front of her. Arabel’s appetite had returned as the blank sadness within her had given way to the overwhelming desire to disrupt the Dorojenja’s murderous activities and end their reign of terror.

  Arabel grieved, naturally, but she also knew that her grandmother was now happier and more content in her new afterlife than when she’d been alive, therefore Arabel tried to focus on the freedom Amelia Bodean had now attained as opposed to the loss that she, Arabel, had sustained. Arabel was also continuously aware of the other losses, Alice-May, Klara, Minnie, Indra, and Paloma – and who knew how many other unfortunates had been tied to a wheel of darkness – and she was determined to seek justice for all of them.

  Arabel was engrossed in both thought and her meal and was briefly startled when someone sat down beside her and gave her shoulder a bolstering squeeze. She turned to see who it could be and was pleased by the interruption. It was Zander. He nodded to his brother and then turned to Arabel.

  “I should like to teach you my favourite spell,” he offered with a contagiously friendly grin.

  “Not the Discrepancy Spell?” Xavier inquired bemusedly.

  Zander laughed heartily, his bright, handsome face lighting up with his inherent enthusiasm.

  “But of course, dear brother, I mean for Arabel to master the Discrepancy Spell! Who practices magic without it?” Zander asked playfully.

  Arabel smiled at him. “It sounds delightful,” she responded, “and I would be honoured to have both Cross brothers instructing me in the magical arts!”

  “It is decided then!” Zander affirmed. “I will meet you at the back of the Lodge in half an hour.”

  Zander wandered off after Arabel nodded her consent and Xavier watched his brother leave with an amused expression upon his attractive face.

  “You must be very close,” Arabel observed.

  Xavier smiled at her. “Yes. We are lucky to have one another.”

  They finished their meal and then made their way back to the Lodge to meet Zander.

  Arabel was soon to learn that the Discrepancy Spell was well-known but not in common usage. However, it remained Zander’s favourite spell.

  “Like this,” Zander said, raising his left hand and creating an arc with his athame. With his right hand, Zander drew lines within the air, a convoluted series of zigzag motions that almost left Arabel dizzy as she watched.

  “That’s quite a series of lines to learn!” she remarked with a small chuckle.

  “Try it!” Zander urged. “’Tis easier than it appears, I promise!”

  “The lines are already in the air,” Xavier elaborated. “You simply need to find the groove in which
they sit. All spells are like that – they all exist already, fully formed, in the ether. The magical practitioner needs only view the invisible realm and the lines will appear, which is a sort of spell in and of itself, of course.”

  “How do I see within the ether?” Arabel inquired, greatly intrigued by this new bit of Gypsy wisdom.

  “Concentrate. Believe. And allow.” Xavier responded somewhat mysteriously. “Use your third eye.”

  Arabel glanced at Xavier, a small frown puckering her lovely forehead. “Concentrate, believe, and allow,” she repeated. “I believe I can do that!”

  The two brothers smiled easily at their eager pupil and within no time Arabel had mastered Zander’s favourite spell, dizzy series of lines and all.

  Xavier excused himself shortly thereafter and Arabel thanked him profusely for his time and effort. The Gypsy leader graciously told her it was his pleasure to assist her and took his leave.

  Zander walked with Arabel toward the main part of the camp. Ira rode contentedly upon Arabel’s left shoulder, clucking now and again and bestowing small kisses on Arabel’s cheek. Arabel nuzzled her face into the bird’s black feathers lovingly.

  “Where is Eli today?” Zander asked.

  “Working,” Arabel replied thoughtfully as an idea began to form in her mind.

  Zander shot her a bemused look. “Out with it, Arabel,” he said.

  “I’ve an idea to go visit the Elemental,” Arabel began, “and I would dearly love some company, if you’re free to come with.”

  Zander nodded immediately. “Of course I will accompany you. Maybe this time, I can merge into the tree dimension as well!”

  Arabel smiled. “Thank you, Zander.”

  “It’s best you are not alone until we end this dark madness. And I am curious about that fellow!”

  The two companions went to the Gypsy stables where Zander brought out his favourite palomino, Naruba, for himself to ride and procured a pale grey mare named Boreana, for Arabel to borrow. They saddled up quickly and within minutes were on their way to the oldest part of the forest to seek out the Elemental.

  As they rode, an easy silence fell upon them. Birds chirped in the distance and the packed snow on the ground muffled the sound of the horse’s galloping hooves. Ira flew overhead, scouting as usual, his beady black eyes missing nothing.

  “Have you discerned yet what your grandmother was doing keeping company with Paloma Porchetto?” Zander inquired.

  Arabel reflected for a moment before responding. “I’m not entirely certain,” she mused, “as all I have to go by are my own psychic impressions, but it seems most likely to me that they were attempting to reason with Saul. After all, he was Paloma’s only child and it appears obvious now that my grandmother and Paloma must have, at some point during their strange acquaintance, somehow become allies.”

  “It is decidedly odd, however, that your grandmother should have sought to befriend the very woman with whom her husband had engaged in an affair.”

  “Odd? Absolutely, but apparently true.”

  “I have since heard tell that Paloma was locked away in a sanatorium all of these long years, only to be released upon the death of Raoul, and that in her absence, Saul had mightily been turned against her. Old Porchetto apparently had Yolanda Selivant offered up as a substitute mother-figure.”

  “Where have you learnt that?”

  “Xavier has spoken with the Chief. Apparently he doused the captured Dorojenja with Truth Serum and much has been revealed.” Zander laughed. “Truth Serum!” he mocked. “Talk about going about things the hard way!”

  “Perhaps he wanted them to suffer?” Arabel offered.

  “Quite likely,” Zander agreed, his astute green eyes twinkling as he refused to hide the fact that he very much enjoyed the thought of the Dorojenja’s discomfort. “Though it is hard to imagine their hard hearts feel very much of anything.”

  “Their hard hearts? You think they have no feeling of affection toward even one another? They are just blind servants of darkness? No humanity preserved whatsoever?”

  “Define humanity,” Zander vollied.

  Arabel was intrigued by the direction of Zander’s thought processes. “If one has not developed the capacity of the heart,” she pondered, “then the psychic gifts are hollow. Is that what you mean to put forth as to the actual weakness of the Dorojenja? That we can defeat them through our heart-centered humanity?”

  Zander nodded. “Perhaps,” he replied, shrugging. “The only quality of the Dorojenja that I am certain enough of to quantify is that they have no heart. Their actions are propelled by a desire to maim and destroy, to induce complete suffering, and thereby seize control. They have developed the sixth energy center to the lawless detriment of the fourth; creating unbalance in a most ego-inducing manner!”

  Arabel let Zander’s words sink in before she replied. “I feel sorry for anyone who has lost the capacity to love,” she said softly, thinking of Eli, and of how rare and fantastical the gift of his love had proven to be. She only hoped that the love she offered in return was of equal value. She believed it was; they seemed so evenly matched.

  Zander smiled at Arabel and she remembered his propensity for effortlessly reading minds.

  “I’ll not betray your confidences, Arabel,” Zander reproached her gently, “but there are others with no such qualms. Best learn to shutter your mind from prying or inadvertent contact.”

  Arabel nodded. “Yes,” she agreed.

  The woods enclosed them in a silent world of limbs, trunks, snow, and energy. The woods snapped with pulsing nature, mostly hidden. The squirrels foraged in the low, snowy brush, the birds scampered between the highest boughs, and the wind chilled all within its path as it whispered its secrets amongst the last clinging autumn foliage.

  The large oak tree with the crooked spike stood majestically in the foreground with small beams of sunlight cascading through the uppermost tip of the spike. Arabel drew in her breath sharply upon viewing it. The other trees in the vicinity, although also very large and old and impressively grand, did not call to Arabel as did the home of the Elemental. The crooked spiked oak seemed to beckon to Arabel beguilingly and the familiar, giant form of the Elemental appeared almost instantly before her appreciative eye.

  “Daughter of Vio-letta!” the towering creature boomed.

  Arabel smiled in greeting. “Hello, Elemental!”

  The Elemental reached out a long, tree-like limb; the golden rope appeared magically and slithered, snake-like, toward Arabel.

  “I’ve brought along a friend, Elemental, and I hope he will be able to travel to see you as well!”

  The Elemental turned his gaze toward Zander. The bearded tree creature peered intently into Zander’s astute green eyes. The Elemental nodded solemnly.

  “He may join us,” he decided and the golden rope split instantly into two separate coils. One coil slithered magically toward Arabel and the other toward Zander. Arabel uttered a quick mental goodbye to Ira as the bird flew up to the top of the crooked spike to await their return from the tree dimension.

  Arabel felt the familiar rush of travel and the dirt in her lungs. Zander sputtered in confusion as they entered the tree root, the dark inter-dimensional waiting place. Arabel was relieved to feel no panic this time and she waited patiently for the Elemental to claim them. Telepathically she relayed to Zander the process by which they gained access to the Elemental’s sky realm and shortly thereafter, the blinding light flashed suddenly and Arabel quickly shut her eyes against its retina-blinding glare.

  When she re-opened her eyes, Arabel was pleased to see the tree creature had fetched them and she stepped out once again into the white sky realm of beauty and peace. Arabel breathed deeply of the enchanted air and saw the wonder and delight she felt mirrored in Zander’s eyes as he viewed the oak groves for the first time. The Elemental towered over them and so he sat, oddly nimble despite his large, flowing frame, and now his black-pooled eyes were at equal height as the
humans.

  “Tea?” the Elemental inquired solicitously, to which both Arabel and Zander nodded assent. Instantly, two ancient looking teacups filled with steaming honey, jasmine and mint appeared in the Elemental’s large, tree-limbed hands. He offered them to his guests and they each gratefully took a cup.

  Arabel inhaled the fragrant scent and was content to sit for a moment, simply enjoying the calm vista and serene ease of companionship.

  “What place is this, sir?” Zander queried the Elemental.

  “’Tis the Glen of the Cloudless Dawn,” the Elemental replied proudly.

  “You possess an almost completely impenetrable layer of magic here,” Zander proclaimed in astonished regard.

  The Elemental nodded sagely. “I am the Elemental; the last one. When I am gone, the forest will not have this layer, this magical safety.” The great creature sighed sadly, a somewhat disturbing, gusty-blustery sound amongst the quiet serenity.

  “Have all of the old ways been lost then, sir?” Zander questioned respectfully.

  The Elemental nodded slowly. “I am the tree-blood, both the seed and the tree. I am the root of the forest; destroy me and you destroy the protection we offer.”

  “Can we not assist you, Elemental, in continuing on your tradition? Is there no way to restore your lineage?” Arabel felt a strong yearning to comfort the tree being who had been a dear friend of her mother’s. “Tell us what must need to be done!”

  The Elemental fixed his penetrating, great black eyes upon Arabel. “Have you completed the earlier task I set upon you, small human? You have destroyed the shield of death?”

  Arabel nodded. “Yes, sir. Two shields have thus been destroyed and we have captured many of the forces of darkness. We still seek the leaders of the dark forces, but we are closing in on their ranks, I assure you.”

  The Elemental said nothing but continued to peer at Arabel. She felt the tendrils of the tree being searching her mind, much as she experienced the mental probing from Xavier.

  “You have suffered a loss,” the Elemental said gravely, after some time of silence.