“Thank you Aunt Trin.” Storm rose to embrace her aunt.
“Take care, luv. I will be watching you.” Aunt Trin’s whisper tickled Storm’s ear as the woman faded back to a ghost.
“Alright, let’s get ready so we can go as soon as the guys get here. We need some of the potions we made last week, Soph. Angeline would you and Olivia move the furniture and make a salt circle like we used for Sophia before?” Directions rolled off Storm’s tongue easily as she poured through the instructions that emerged in the Oraculum in bright green letters under the golden title ‘To reach the realm of the Tuatha De.’ Storm helped Sophia sort through the potions and before she knew it, Dan and Shane were walking into the study looking as concerned as ever.
“What are you doing, Storm?” Dan frowned as he sized up the room. “Trin says you are taking Olivia to the Tuatha De. What has gotten into you?”
“It will be fine, Dan. Everything is going as it should so just have a seat next to Angeline and pull Pac Man in your lap. Shane, if you would sit with the Phoenix opposite them just outside the circle.” Storm grabbed the last potion they needed, balanced it on the Oraculum, and led Sophia to the circle. “Olivia, you can step inside the circle and sit with your back to your sister who will be your tether with Dan’s aid. Shane, you and Sophia will be my anchors.” Storm tossed the Oraculum into the middle of the circle where it landed open on the pages she’d been reading from. “Don’t touch that, Olivia.”
“Storm, are you-“
“Dan, if you cannot shut up and let me work then you can leave and send somebody else. I am sure somebody is willing to sit silently and do what they are told.” Storm glared at her old friend who looked about to say more but thought better of it. “Now, Soph, if you could give me the potions and sit beside Shane, we can get started.” Sophia nodded and placed the potions carefully in Storm’s arms before sliding onto the floor beside Shane and pulling the Phoenix into her lap. The Phoenix nodded at Storm approvingly and curled into Sophia’s lap. Storm stepped into the circle and handed the potions down to Olivia instructing her on the order in which to place them. With some difficulty, Storm managed to sit opposite the young woman with the Oraculum between them and a configuration of potions around them. “You must uncap these in the correct order while I reach out to the other realm with the book. Okay?” Olivia nodded silently, her eyes wide and expectant.
“Be careful, Liv.” Angeline whispered to her sister.
“I will keep her safe, Ang.” Storm nodded to Olivia. “Open the ones around you in a clockwise pattern and then you will start the ones around me in a counter clockwise pattern ending with the two on either side of the book. Okay?” Olivia nodded again. “The rest of you need to focus on us, memories of us, images of our faces, whatever it takes to keep us firmly ingrained in your minds while we travel. Olivia, start now.” Storm put her hands on either side of the Oraculum, watching the letters rearrange into words she somehow recognized though they were no longer in English or Spanish or any other language she’d ever seen. Muttering the words, Storm felt her body go light, as if she were floating away. She closed her eyes and continued to murmur the spell, over and over, drifting further away.
“Storm?” Olivia’s voice broke through the trance and Storm felt a hand on her arm. She opened her eyes to see a desolate field littered with branches and remnants of stumps. It took a moment to truly focus but once she did, Storm regretted it. She turned to wretch and noted Olivia had already done the same. “Who are they, Storm?”
Bodies littered the decimated forest that clearly had been blasted apart recently. She did not recognize any of the figures but some were so mangled that she didn’t suppose anybody would be able to identify them. Storm frowned. “I don’t know, Olivia. I think we need to get moving.” Storm reached out, took the younger woman’s arm at the elbow and guided her around a pile of body parts that surprisingly had no stench. Odd.
“They don’t smell bad.” Olivia’s eyes continued to rove the horizon and Storm found some comfort in her company. Though she would have preferred Angeline or one of the Immortals for this task, Storm did feel something about the girl, something that just needed to be unlocked.
“No, they don’t, do they?” Storm smiled at her, attempting to reassure Olivia.
“Who are you to come here!” A voice echoed through the war-torn clearing, surrounding them somehow so they could not detect the true source.
“I am the Emerald Seer. I have come to reclaim my grandmother, the goddess Damarra and beg a reading of this girl in our quest to defeat the Unseen.” Storm’s voice echoed across the land. She allowed the golden glow to flow into her hands, shook them a few times and forced them into an emerald green hue. “Show yourself or be gone, I have no time for games.”
A small pop behind her caused Storm to whirl about and slide in front of Olivia. Before them stood a strange looking old man with a tall staff and tattered robes. With frizzy white hair that would have made Einstein jealous and odd wire-rimmed glasses, the old man looked more out of place than the pair of them put together. “Ah, you is the Emerald isn’t you? You is, I says you is. Ah, you is late you is.” He peered around Storm to Olivia. “Ah, you girl, you is very late. You is to be here long ago you is.”
Olivia stepped out from behind Storm and looked at the man. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”
“Ah, yes you is. You is the one! I thought you is but you is hiding behind the Emerald you is.” The old man jumped up and down excitedly. “You is to be instructed you is.”
Storm’s head was aching from the travel and this ridiculous man was aggravating it even further. “Listen, I don’t know who you are but we are looking for Almha and Damarra. Do you know them?”
“Ah yes we do.” The old man stopped leaping and turned dour, looking at his feet and shifting uncomfortably.
“Well? Can you take us to them?” Storm fought the urge to shake the man or zap him, something told her that it would be unwise to use her power now.
“Ah no we isn’t. You come too late, Emerald. You is too late.” The old man looked up to her, bright blue tears brimming in his eyes. “They is fled. All fled. Hiding if they survived the fight they is.”
“No, my grandmother would have come for me. She does not hide from anything.” Storm folded her arms to fight back the sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach.
“You is late. The fight was bad it was. We was winning we was, driving the evil things out we was but then she come. She come and it went bad.” The old man broke into sobs, his body shaking against the walking stick.
“Who? Who came?” Storm didn’t think she needed him to answer. She could guess who the man was referring to.
“The dark flower we is calling her. She bloomed into a terrible beast before our eyes she did.” The old man fell to his knees, wracked with some invisible pain. Olivia fell to the ground beside him and wrapped her arms about his thin form.
“Where did she go? The dark flower?” Storm pressed on in spite of the old man’s broken down state. She had to know, they all did. The man lifted his head, blue tears traveling down his face and staining his already filthy shirt.
“With him. She is his.” The old man’s eyes rolled back in his head as he began to convulse. Olivia jumped away from him, watching in horror as the hair and eyes melted from his head like candle wax. Storm took Olivia by the arm and pulled her away, backing slowly from the rapidly mutating creature. Realization swept over Storm and she spun around to run.
“Olivia – RUN!”
Damarra – around 1100 AD
“Roane has given up. He never believed in it, Almha.” Damarra looked upon her friend, grateful she was there to see the portal open. Almha was the first to step through and when they embraced, Damarra felt a shift in the world again. They walked to a nearby sacred place and floated down into the hidden cavern as they had done a hundred times before the sealing of the portals. Now it was shabbier, its magic dimmed in the ages since its last use but st
ill viable for privacy.
“Have you consulted the witchling yet?” Almha’s voice echoed across the walls of the cave. She walked slowly along the corridor, running her fingers over the jagged rocks. “Man’s early work leaves something to be desired, does it not? I did not enjoy those cave paintings. The wonder and simplicity of the rocks has always been enough for me. Do you concur?”
“Yes, I believe they are dim in comparison to the other species I have been observing.” Damarra fought the impatience bubbling inside her. “Almha, please. Why must I use the witchling? I looked in on her as I was bid but she practices the dark magics, plays with forces she does not understand.”
“We have all been guilty of that, have we not?” Almha turned to face her, staring right through her. “I know only what has been forseen. The White Lady will claim the witch in a few centuries, with the aid of your mate’s kin. You must seek her out before then. Remember what I said about dark and light, it is still true in this age and will be true in every age of the world.”
Damarra frowned. She did not like the witch girl. Her dark eyes were shrewd and the girl’s heart could be cruel at times. “She must thrive in the dark arts to live that long. What is she?”
“Ah, now you ask the right questions, my friend.” Almha waved a hand across a large boulder which obliged her request and shaped itself into a rather comfortable looking chair. The elder deity settled slowly into the rock seat and beckoned for Damarra to follow suit. Once they were both seated comfortably, Almha reached into her robes and withdrew a small book, no larger than the journals Roane took to keeping. It was brilliant green with no identifiable symbols or pictures on the outside. “This comes from the Tuatha De Danaan. It is a gift for your granddaughter and names her in its pages. What you will see is different from what your Immortal will see and of course, your granddaughter will see something else altogether. Be wary of your child but embrace your grandchild for she will be the salvation of this world when the Unseen decides to rise again. That is all I can share with you, my friend.”
“Why do you sound like you are saying good-bye?” Damarra took the book hesitantly. It hissed when she touched it but otherwise appeared as it should.
“Because I am, Damarra. I cannot aid you directly as I am being sent to train some new angels.” Almha smiled at her. “They are quite handsome and in need of specific training. Someday we will meet again and rejoice in all that we have accomplished. I know you will do what is right and what is necessary.” Almha stood, released the rock to its former shape and moved to embrace Damarra.
“You did not tell me why I must seek out this specific witch.” Damarra released her friend from the awkward embrace and backed up a step. “She does not walk our path.”
“Seek the witch and look to the book, my friend. That is all I can tell you.” Almha turned away and moved toward the portal at the rear of the cave. She stopped once but did not face Damarra, “I look forward to meeting your granddaughter. It is said she will be quite like us.”
Damarra turned the book over in her hands, refusing to look up at her friend. She sighed and left the cave, appearing instead in a massive field. Pushing her way through the tall grasses, Damarra looked for the path toward the witch’s lair. Other than the strong pull of magic, there was nothing definitive to highlight the way. Foolish witch. The warmth of Roane’s touch still scorched her skin, memories of his kisses sent ripples down her spine. Instead of making things right with him and lying pleasantly sated in his arms she was traversing cold dry fields in search of somebody she did not want to see. What kind of destiny was this? How could this be her duty?
“You seek me Goddess?” A steely voice cut through Damarra’s thoughts.
Whirling around, Damarra came face to face with a lovely young woman, the stench of darkness swirling about her like a blanket, dancing and mixing with the white magic still coursing through her veins. Damarra had never seen anything like it, never seen the two forces exist so evenly within one creature. She forced back a shudder. “You are the witch Morgaine, are you not?”
“That is my given name, for true. I am called many things by many others, though.” The young woman wrapped her black shawl tighter about her shoulders. “Come, my Goddess, there is a strange chill in the air and we must hurry to accomplish what you seek.”
“How do you know what I seek?” Damarra heard the edge in her voice but thought it would serve some good to frighten the witchling a bit. She was a Goddess, ancient and powerful, moreso than this young creature.
“Almha visited me. She told me you would seek me and why. It is important for us all, is it not?” Morgaine turned away, walking quickly through the tall grasses, her curling raven locks a beacon for Damarra to follow. They came to a stop before a small stone outpost. Moss covered with many cracked faces, the outpost looked to be large enough for one man to stand in. “Follow me, my Goddess. I dwell beneath the surface for protection.” Morgaine raised a hand to the rock, one large onyx ring visible on her index finger, and pressed a smooth rock with her fingertips. Damarra watched as the smooth stone spread, pushing aside all other stones in a complex magical sequence to reveal a rather splendid doorway marked with ancient runes. Damarra followed the witch into the doorway and found herself in a massive circular room with a domed ceiling. “Welcome to my home, Goddess.”
“How did this come to be?” Damarra walked to the hearth place and ran her fingers along the smooth stone mantle, twice the size of any Roane had erected.
“Much time and effort from many of your kind. I am but a guardian of this safe house, prepared for ages for the coming of your granddaughter. This is all I know.” Morgaine leaned in to stir a cauldron hanging over the fireplace. “This is what you have come for.”
“What is it?”
Morgaine looked up to Damarra, stared her square in the eye and offered a true smile making her appear as the witch she should have been. “It is the way to your granddaughter. I have embraced the darkness to create it, opened myself to evil to give this some of my purity. This is the first of many tasks I must perform to assure our triumph over the Unseen for he will attempt to rise again.” Morgaine pulled three vials from her robes, dipped each in the solution within the cauldron and corked them one at a time. “Take these, one each over the next three days and you will heal what is broken in your Immortal. This, as all other magic has consequences, both known and as yet unknown. I can tell you no more as this is all the knowledge I have been given. But, please remember this room and pass the knowledge to your child so that your granddaughter may know it when she sees it. Farewell, Goddess.”
Damarra took the vials and blessed the young woman in the old tongue. “You have performed your tasks well, young one. May you continue down this path and seek me on the other side.”
“I will, ancient mother, I will.”
Stepping out of the door she’d just entered, Damarra found herself standing on the hill overlooking her home. Her Immortal sat upon a chair cleaning his axe, the dim light of early morning casting highlights through his hair. Damarra uncorked the first vial and drank the contents allowing them to burn down her throat and warm her from the inside. She felt a strange quickening in her abdomen.
Storm
Angeline would kill her if she lost Olivia on the other side. “Olivia, stay with me.” She pulled the girl behind a cracked rock and crouched down, waiting for the younger woman to catch her breath.
“What was that?” Olivia panted her question, panic lacing her breathless tone.
“I don’t know, actually. I just know it was not a kind old –“
“No, I am not. I apologize for the fright. Honestly I did not consider that you would find my metamorphosis as off-putting as my true form.” A lovely woman stepped from behind the stones, power rippling around her form like a nearly transparent cloak. She stretched both hands to Olivia and Storm. “Please, allow me to introduce myself properly and then I will take you to those you seek.”
Storm accepted th
e offered hand hesitantly. Something seemed familiar about the woman but she couldn’t place it. “Who are you? Why would I fear your true form?” Olivia shifted behind Storm.
“Please hear me out before you react, Emerald.” The woman looked to, or rather through Storm with a strange expression. “I am Morgaine, at your service and the service of the Tuatha De.”
Storm began backing away, pushing Olivia gently behind her and allowed the power to well in her right palm. “You cursed my friend.” It sounded weak and she knew it. How could this be Morgaine? This lovely, raven-haired woman who Lucian described as a wretched, hideous creature.
“I did as I was bidden by powers greater than you or I. Ask yourself, had I not cursed him as I did would he have found Sophia or bound the Phoenix to your cause? Would he be the same man you know today?” Morgaine stood, watching them, unmoving but smiling complacently.
“But he wandered for centuries in miserable pain! He killed your kin and nearly lost everything! How dare you stand here and pretend you did him a service.” Storm whipped her hand up and flung a ray of gold at the woman claiming to be Morgaine. The woman clapped her hands in front of her face and Storm’s attack shattered into hundreds of droplets.
“I did as I was bidden as have all others in this war. Do you think Olivia, that wisp of a woman behind you wanted the half-life she has led? For that matter, did you want this burden you carry? No, I think not. I did not want this either, did not ask to be this way but know that you have the love of your life and the small ones growing in your womb because I am this way. Think, Storm, think about it before you pass judgment on me.” Morgaine walked forward, slowly with her hands raised in a gesture of peace while asserting her confidence. “You have long prided yourself on making up your own mind, do so now. Yes, Lucian Nightstalker hates me and he has right to hate me. Yes, he ended my life and the lives of most of my line but where do you think the power went in the end? Right where it needed to - my true heir, Sophia Bedeaux who was chosen to be my successor for all the strength and compassion she possesses. Lovely too, I believe. Do you not see how this has all been orchestrated to give you the best arsenal possible to combat the Unseen? He is coming for you Storm, coming for your mate, your friends, and your babes. So choose and choose fast, trust me now or leave this realm empty handed.”
The Storm Sullivan Saga: The Emerald Seer Series Box Set Page 51
