To Coblaith, who was so deeply in love with her own newborn babe that she had little strength to deal with other people’s children, it seemed more and more as if her husband’s nieces were simply being difficult to spite her. They would not be taught how to do the fine embroidery Coblaith had learned at her own mother’s knee, and had no interest in any of the practical female arts necessary for the running of a household. Nor would they learn the steps to the proper dances, or the words to the proper prayers, or agree to have their hair plaited in pretty coronets, or to bend their knees before the priest on chapel days.
It was soon clear to everyone, from the cook to the priest to the stable boy, that the household was headed towards certain disaster. Everyone apart from Fergal, that is, for lately his attention remained fixed on faraway, unreal places to which nobody except his two young nieces could follow him.
“Uncle. We have spent two years in your castle and can stand its confines no more.”
“You are too young yet to live on your own.”
“We must leave, for we cannot abide the petty rules which your wife imposes on us.”
“She means well.”
“Indeed, we see very little darkness in her soul. The fire of your own soul, however, is darkening by the day.”
“You have no right to peer beyond the veil of my flesh!”
“Our magic gives us the right, and we are alarmed by what we see. The time you spend in those faraway realms is doing damage to your spirit.”
“Untrue!”
“Our mother warned us against the very temptation you have fallen prey to. She taught us to spend our time in the physical world while we still wear these bodies, as the realms beyond this one can be corrupting to our human souls.”
“I will not be made small again! I contain multitudes now, a wholeness and a greatness beyond imagining!”
“You spend half of your time in a trance, uncle, and the rest in a deep sleep from which you cannot be stirred. It is your wife who now rules these lands, and while she is a fair and honorable lady, she knows nothing of our kind. We will leave this place, with your permission or without it.”
Fergal's attention, however, had already wandered from this conversation, his mind lost in the dreamy depths of a domain in which he did not belong.
*
In the end, it was Fergall’s most famous spell that inspired the plan the girls used to escape from the castle. For he had ended the war by trapping the high king in an illusion from which the old man could not escape: a land of horrors where his squire became a bear, his knight marshal an elephant, and his chancellor a talking whale, right before his horrified eyes. After the king went mad (for so it seemed to those around him), his son, a sickly weakling with no appetite for war, was crowned king in his father’s stead and immediately sent emissaries to Fergal’s court to broker a peace. And thus the war was finally ended by little more than a simple spell of illusion, designed to affect but one person, forever.
It was this spell the girls recalled when they could no longer stand their life in the castle. Leaf was ten years old by that time; Moss was eight. Both of them were strong in magic, as they had inherited their mother’s power upon her death—–a power which they had seldom used, for they remembered the old sayings, handed down from generation to generation: “love is for people; magic for dragons” and “the same magic that feeds a dragon will poison a person”.
But desperate times called for desperate deeds, and the two girls decided to draw deeply on their magic, just this once, in order to distract their uncle’s wife while they escaped the confines of the castle. And what better way to distract the Lady Coblaith than by creating a host of illusionary problems for that good woman to deal with?
The girls, in their childish innocence, spun their illusion and made for the woods. And Coblaith, blinded by magic, suddenly had to deal with a flooded storeroom, acres of blighted crops, a mysterious ailment plaguing her pigs, a kitchen fire, arguments among her spinners and weavers, storm damage to the castle, and a thorny legal issue concerning the castle’s taxes.
“What a day this is turning out to be! We need to move the salted meats to higher ground. Be quick about it!”
“My lady, I do not understand—–”
“What is there to understand? Move!”
Such was the respect the Lady Coblaith commanded that the servants humored her strange requests, at first. Excuses were made for her peculiar behavior: a fever, a chill, a lack of sleep, an unknown ailment. But when the hours turned to days and their beloved lady still did not recover her faculties, even the most loyal members of the household began to fear for the worst.
Did the girls intend to leave Coblaith lost in a state of delusion for such a long time? Perhaps not. Likely, they were simply overwhelmed by their freedom and, delighted to be back in their forest home, lost track of the passage of time. But whatever their true intention, Coblaith spent weeks in a busy panic, trying to solve imaginary crises that only she could see, and by the time her head finally cleared, she woke up from that strange spell to find her nieces gone and her baby daughter dead and cold in her grave.
*
“My darling child! How can she be gone?”
“She went quietly in her sleep, my lady. In the morning we woke to find her blue and cold.”
“No!”
“Her little face was peaceful and serene. She left this world without any suffering.”
“No! I want to see her. Take me to her now!”
“I… I am sorry, my lady. The babe was laid to rest two days ago. The priest said we could wait no longer. I could take you to her grave—–”
“No!” Coblaith tore at her hair as she paced up and down the room, her body shaking with a desperate fever. “Where was my husband when this happened? Where is he now?”
“Lord Fergal, unfortunately, suffered one of his sleeping spells. But he is awake now and asking for you.”
“Take me to him at once.”
Fergal tried to comfort his wife as best he could, but his own heart was raw with the pain of his loss. He felt a measure of guilt too, for he immediately recognized in his wife’s mysterious affliction the same magic he had used against the old king years ago.
It was not long before his lady came to the same conclusion.
“They did this to me, didn’t they? Those little witches!”
“What exactly are you accusing my nieces of?”
“Of my baby’s murder!”
“Oh, Coblaith. The child died tragically, but she also died naturally. If magic had been used against her, I would have found clear traces of their power. They did not harm the child.”
“How can you say that, when they ensorcelled me with phantoms and delusions so that I did not spare a thought for her for days on end? Do you think my sweet babe would have died, had I held her in my arms as she slept? Do you think I would not have noticed her breathing cease, had I been in control of my senses? Her death is as much their fault as if they’d put a knife to her throat!”
“They could not have known this would happen. They are but children.”
“Children? They are monsters!”
“No, my love. Please. They might—–”
“I should have known you would take their side! You have always favored them, even over your own son! And I have abided by your wishes out of love and respect for you. But if you think I will indulge this insanity one minute longer, you are sorely mistaken! They have already taken my daughter from me—–they will not take my son’s birthright too.”
“These lands are ruled by the sons of dragons.”
“That might have been true in the past. The future will be different.”
“Oh, Coblaith. Let us not argue about this now, while our hearts are broken with the loss of our child. There will be time enough to debate such practicalities in future.”
After those words, Coblaith left the room, for she could see there was no point in arguing any further. Her lord had that fara
way look in his eyes again, and she knew he longed to lose himself in the shadow worlds of his magic. If she wanted justice, she realized, she would have to take matters into her own hands.
*
It was not Coblaith who slit the throat of little Leaf as she lay sleeping in her forest home. It was a knight who held the knife, a hard man used to slaughter, but who shuddered nonetheless when the deed was done.
No, it was not Coblaith who held the knife, but it was she who had given the order, and who had shown him the way to that secret place she so well remembered from one fateful moonlit night, years ago.
Coblaith looked upon the murder with a cold eye, dismayed only by the fact that the younger child could not be found to share her sister’s fate, and she met her husband’s gaze unflinchingly when he later confronted her about her deed.
“You have murdered a little girl!”
“Not a girl, no. A dragon cloaked in girlish skin: an evil, soulless creature who can have no place in God’s world of work and prayer and family.”
“You know what my mother was. Am I then a soulless creature too?”
“No. For, unlike those dragons who merely wear their humanity as a disguise for a little while, you will never change into a monster.”
“You have wrought a great evil today, Coblaith.”
“There is no god-fearing man or woman who will not rejoice in the death of that creature. No priest will judge me for what I did, nor would the almighty God condemn me. I have fought the devil today, and I have won.”
Fergall could see that his wife had taken refuge in the doctrines of her youth and that there would be no reasoning with her now. Her newfound religious piety provided the perfect disguise for her hate-filled revenge, so that she could calmly justify even the cold-blooded murder of an innocent child.
He went to bed with a heavy heart.
He woke up feeling different.
Something had changed. Something wonderful.
He was stronger now in magic than he’d ever been, stronger than he’d thought it possible to be! He stretched his body as the magic pulsed through him, shaking with the pleasure of it. He was shimmering with power now, swimming in it, completely drenched! No distant realm was closed to him, no part of the universe inaccessible, no point in time beyond his reach.
With his mind newly sharpened, it did not take him long to link this wealth of new power to the death of his niece.
Ah yes, of course.
The power could not be destroyed. It was too precious—–too magnificent!—–and if the wielder passed on without leaving children, the power would surely find its way to their closest family members.
As he pondered this, he realized something equally profound, namely that if some of the dead girl’s power had been bestowed on him, the rest must surely have gone to young Moss, the sister who still survived in the woods somewhere.
His hair stood on end at the thought. For this meant that, should his other niece lose her life too, all the power would suddenly be his. Every last drop.
Fergall felt a great excitement come over him, and a great coldness. He rose from his bed and went searching for Coblaith.
There was one young dragon yet left alive.
He would help his wife to find her.
Chapter 10
If we look at the ancient cultures of the Americas, we find stories and legends that are eerily similar. From the Aztecs to the Olmecs to the Maya to the Inca, as well as the cultures that predate them, we find tales of ‘gods’ who left Earth, promising to return one day, all sharing the same description – a description, not coincidentally, closely resembling that of the deities from ancient Mesopotamia.
Viracocha, for example, is the great creator god in pre-Inca mythology. Just like the Aztec god Quetzalcoatl and several other deities from Central and South American pantheons, legends describe him as being bearded, pale-skinned, blue-eyed and relatively tall. Kukulkan, worshiped by the Yucatec Mayan peoples, shares this description in human form, because, just like Quetzalcoatl, he wears not only a human form but also that of a feathered serpent…
Extract from contemporary blog: The Ancient Code
When I wake up, I’m alone in a strange bed.
I look around me, trying to make sense of the thatched roof, the bamboo floors, and outside the huge glassless windows, the treetops endlessly stretching for as far as the eye can see.
Oh yes.
I remember.
The Amazon rainforest.
The Green Lady’s secret village.
I get out of bed, surprised to feel the floor so solid beneath my feet. The breeze on my skin. The air in my lungs. Then I walk to the bathroom, a bit unsteadily, and go through the motions of showering and dressing and brushing my teeth, all the while not allowing myself to think or to feel.
I’m not sure exactly what had happened to me, but I instinctively know I almost lost myself in a world that’s not my own, and that I’m lucky to have found my way to this time and this place again.
Because surely I must be back.
I must be Jess, and this must be my life.
When I’m clean and freshly dressed, I spend a few minutes examining myself in the mirror, trying to decide if recognize the girl staring back at me.
Did I always look like this? So tall and so lean and so young? Was my hair always this strange green color? And my eyes! Did they always look so catlike, my face so feral?
Surely not. I remember having beautiful, delicate features and masses of thick dark hair—
The ground lurches beneath my feet as my mind opens itself up to lives and worlds long gone.
…A stranger in a hooded black cloak. Hair as yellow as the braided locks of the barbarians from the north. A baby snake remains a snake. Body to body, blood to blood. Perfect white teeth and full, kissable lips. Mated to a suitable bloodline. Eyes as cold and gray as the snows outside…
The image in the mirror pulls me back. The fear on that young girl’s face reflects my own so precisely that it must be me.
I put out a shaky hand to touch the mirror.
This is my face.
I take a deep breath, closing my eyes to feel the oxygen hit my lungs.
This is me.
I am Jess. This is me.
Surely, this must be me.
When the rising sense of panic threatens to close my throat, I take a few decisive steps away from the mirror. It’s probably best not to overthink things right now.
First things first. I need to eat.
Eating always helps to calm me down.
I leave the room warily, silently bracing myself for what’s to come, only to find a menacing young man in the corridor outside. He has a hard, tattooed, fighter’s body and silver eyes that have seen too much death. It takes a few seconds before I remember.
“Zig?”
He doesn’t respond, but his scowl is undeniably familiar.
“It is you. You’re Zig.”
“You have no idea who I am, monster.”
Ah yes. I remember this.
“How long was I out for this time?”
“I don’t owe you any answers.”
I try to step past him, strangely reassured by his response. “Okay then.”
But he blocks my way. “Get back into the room.”
“I need some food. I’m starving.”
“If you want to live, you’ll turn around now.” His voice is little more than a low growl, and there’s a disturbing hardness to his face. A ruthlessness.
Something is wrong.
“What happened?” I do my best to sound casual even as my heart begins to race. “Why are you like this?”
He looks me up and down coldly. “You will be dead soon, and I will not feel any pity for you.”
I wince. “Wow. That’s a bit harsh, even for you.”
“I will make your death as painless as I can, provided you do not fight me.”
His eyes are so cold and his voice so flat that a deep, primal fear sp
ikes through me, my body going into panic mode as if sensing a predator.
“All I want is to get myself some food.”
“Get back into the room.”
“No.” Somehow, I instinctively sense that I can’t let him know I’m afraid of him. It would be like running from a vicious dog—–if I show any fear now, he’s sure to attack. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me why you’re being such a dick.”
His eyes widen slightly, as if I’m not acting the way he expected. Then he swears. “You don’t know, do you?”
“Know what?”
He swears again. “How is this possible?”
“How is what possible? Can’t you just tell me what’s going on?”
I watch the dying dragon on his face flick a tail. Then he turns around and kicks a big hole in the bamboo wall.
“Zig, you’re starting to freak me out.”
“Just get back into the room.” He keeps his back to me. “Please.”
“Okay. Now you’re really freaking me out.”
“Lock the door as soon as I leave. Don’t open it again for anybody but me.”
I give one last look at his tense back, then follow his instructions with a heavy heart.
Damn. I’ve got a really bad feeling about this.
It’s about twenty minutes later.
I’m sitting at the small round table in my room, eating a delicious spread of fruit and bread and cold meats from a tray. Jonathan is sitting across from me, watching me eat. Usually this would make me super self-conscious because his bloodmagic is dialed up all the way to eleven again, and it’s embarrassing to be stuffing your face while someone that hot is staring at you with naked lust in his eyes. But what else can I do? Having been in my resting state for almost a month, I’m practically starving, and Jonathan has sworn there’s nothing he can do about his bloodmagic right now—–according to him, it’s an involuntary response to my presence now that I’m an earthmaster.
Yup, that’s right. Apparently I’m an earthmaster now.
For crying in a bucket.
“But how can you be sure I’m an earthmaster?” I ask after I’ve finally eaten enough to have the strength for this conversation.
“How much can you remember?”
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