Eolyn

by Karin Rita Gastreich

  “I have not seen anything like it, my Lord King.” Drostan straightened and stepped away. “Not among the magas I knew, not at any time during the last days of the Old Orders.”

  “Very well.” Kedehen nodded. “You may keep the gift, Akmael.”

  Akmael’s heart leapt. He could hardly believe his luck. Was it really going to be that easy?

  “My Lord King,” Tzeremond objected.

  “It is but a jewel, Master Tzeremond,” Kedehen said. “It will do the Prince no harm. Even if it did have magic, I cannot believe the Queen would sabotage her son’s glory from the grave. You know what she sacrificed to bear him. You understand, better than most, the choice she made.”

  “I respect your faith in her, my Lord King, but I cannot share your confidence. Queen Briana was a witch after all. A true daughter of East Selen.”

  “Yes.” Kedehen set a solid hand on Akmael’s shoulder. “And thanks to her, the legacy of East Selen is now mine. If this medallion concerns you, Tzeremond, then continue searching your records. Should you find evidence the silver web contains subversive magic, advise me and we will take the necessary precautions. Come, Akmael. We’ve wasted enough time on this matter. The evening meal awaits.”

  Akmael thanked his father and tucked the medallion back into its hiding place, keeping tight rein on the surge of excitement in his heart.

  It does have magic!

  Magic of the most wonderful and mysterious sort.

  Tomorrow, he would begin exploring the full potential of his mother’s gift. He would find out what determined his destination, and whether he could control where he went. Maybe he could get back to the river in the forest and find that girl again. What was her name?

  Eolyn.

  Akmael caught his breath.

  He would like to see her again, he realized.

  He would like that very much.

  Chapter Four

  The Origin of Magic

  Eolyn burst into the cottage, breathless. “Why didn’t you say you were teaching me magic?”

  Caught in the middle of preparing their evening stew, Ghemena set down her knife and dried her hands on a worn apron. The cards had foretold of this moment. They had promised Eolyn would see the reflection of her power in the shadow of the forest.

  “Because you feared magic, Eolyn. You were born into a world where women who practiced the craft met their end in brutal ways. You blamed your magic and your mother’s magic for the death of your family and the destruction of your village. You wouldn’t have learned anything from me had I told you what I was doing.”

  “I’m not afraid anymore.”

  “Are you certain?”

  Eolyn opened her mouth and shut it again. Her gaze wavered and shifted to the floor.

  “You have experienced magic running through your veins,” Ghemena said. “You have glimpsed the doors it can open for you. Now that you recognize your own potential, you have a decision to make.”

  Eolyn looked up. “But if I’m already learning magic, the decision has been made.”

  “No, Eolyn. I have shown you a path. That is all. A path that may have no future. Right now the only place for a maga outside of this forest is on the pyre. If you continue in the ways of the Old Orders, it may lead to a painful death. The greater your power, the more terrible your condemnation.”

  Eolyn brought her hands together and studied them intently. “But I can’t die here. There aren’t any roads, so there won’t ever be any soldiers, and no one can ever come here to hurt me or you. Can they?”

  Eolyn lifted her dark eyes, tentative and uncertain, to Ghemena.

  “Sweet child,” the old maga murmured. “Death can find us no matter where we hide.”

  The girl drew a shaky breath. She brought her fingers to her eyes as if to stop an impulse of tears. After a long moment, she uncovered her face, straightened her shoulders, and lifted her chin.

  “Well then,” she said. “I suppose if I must die, I would rather die with magic inside of me. I don’t want to die like the people in my village died. They all died a terrible death. I think now it would have been better for them to die having learned magic than to die as they did, with no magic at all.”

  Ghemena’s balance faltered. She sought a nearby stool and eased herself down.

  The forester, Varyl, had rebuked her when she decided to keep Eolyn. Varyl had called her a fool, and perhaps she was. A crazy, lonely old fool, unwilling to let go of a dream with no future. But in the end, Ghemena had held her ground. She had not come across a child with such innate talent in many, many years.

  And what of Eolyn’s destiny? The girl should have been killed by the King’s Riders, for only in legend did people survive those massacres. She should have perished in the forest of starvation or fallen prey to wolves and wild cats. The thieves—Gods forbid—could have found her, had their way with her and left her to die. The South Woods extended vast and impenetrable in every direction from the girl’s village. Yet according to the Guendes, Eolyn had walked an almost direct route to Ghemena’s refuge, where she had taken to magic as a fledgling takes to the air in late spring.

  Does not all of this mean something?

  “Come, Eolyn,” Ghemena whispered.

  The girl approached and stood before her. Eolyn had grown taller these past years. Her once rounded face had begun to take on the finer features of adolescence. Well-defined brows sat in smooth arcs over dark eyes. There was depth to her countenance, a determination Ghemena knew would serve Eolyn well.

  “You will be the only one left to command this knowledge, Eolyn. You will be alone, feared and hated by many. Are you certain this is what you want?”

  “Yes.” This time Eolyn did not hesitate in her answer. The flare in her aura confirmed her resolve. Ghemena felt something she had not experienced in many years: hope. A fleeting sense that not everything was lost. Perhaps the old ways could be restored. Perhaps the glory of the magas would not be extinguished after all.

  “Then I have something to show you.” Ghemena pushed herself to her feet. “And a story to tell.”

  Unsealing a hidden door next to the hearth, Ghemena opened a small alcove filled with the few remaining annals of women’s magic. These volumes had found refuge here from the pyres of Moisehén, spirited into hiding when the maga took flight into the South Woods.

  Eolyn gasped when she saw them and moved to follow her guardian.

  “Have a seat at the table,” Ghemena said. “There’s hardly room in here for all these books, much less the two of us.”

  Ghemena chose a heavy volume from the alcove and laid its richly illustrated pages in front of the girl.

  “What are these?” Eolyn’s fingers drifted over the complex symbols that covered the page. “What do they mean?”

  “This is a special kind of Middle Magic. In the common tongue, it is called writing. It allows us to share wisdom across generations, and you will learn to interpret it as part of your training.”

  “Mother told me about books. And writing and parchments. I never thought I’d see any though. She said books only existed in hidden places and that girls weren’t allowed to touch them.”

  “This place is hidden well enough, I think. As for the separation between books and women, that is a recent turn of events. Under the traditions of the Old Orders, I would have shown you the secrets of these pages long before I taught you any other magic. But there are many things we will have to do differently here in the South Woods. Today, you will start the next stage of your journey, Eolyn. Today, you will learn how magic came to our people.”

  Ghemena turned the page and began to read:

  Long ago, in a land that existed before time had meaning, there lived a woman called Aithne. She grew up in a world of ordinary ways. The plants held their silence. The animals moved in secret. The wind stood still, and the rocks lay cold and lifeless against the earth. The sun shone pale through gray days and the moon barely illuminated the starless nights. The essence of Primiti
ve Magic haunted the land, but people were unable to give form to its song. They suffered from hunger and disease, and Aithne longed to help them.

  Aithne spent long hours pondering this problem, until one day she noticed the animals were always healthy. Their dark coats were thick in winter, and their young energetic in summer. So she began to watch them. In this way she discovered from Bear which berries are good to eat, from Boar where to look for tasty mushrooms, from Squirrel how to choose nuts, and from Songbird how to weave baskets. This was the beginning of Simple Magic.

  At that time, a young man named Caradoc fell in love with Aithne. Aithne, seeing Caradoc understood her, fell in love with him. They consecrated their love under a full spring moon, and the heat of their hearts sparked a fire in the center of their village. The villagers gathered in awe to observe the blaze. With branches of pine, they divided the flame so that each family took a piece back to their own home. This is how fire came to our people.

  Together Aithne and Caradoc discovered the secrets of Middle Magic. The joy of their love illuminated the world, allowing them to see the stones are not cold, but rather vibrate with wisdom of the ages. The plants and animals are not silent, but whisper timeless secrets for the well-prepared ear. Aithne and Caradoc taught Middle Magic to all those willing to learn it.

  At this time, the Gods from the deepest and highest places of the world took notice of Aithne and Caradoc, and a division grew among them. Some of the Gods saw great beauty in their initiative. They recognized how magic illuminated and improved the lives of the villagers. But other deities felt threatened.

  “Are we to let them continue down this path?” they objected. “To become Gods like us?”

  Spurred by this division, the Gods sent two messengers to Aithne and Caradoc, each representing a different side of their argument.

  The first messenger, Thunder, pursued the lovers through the forest and filled their hearts with fear. Aithne and Caradoc found refuge in a small cave in the mountains. Thunder raged all over the hills looking for them, but eventually gave up and faded away.

  In the silence that followed, Aithne and Caradoc realized they were not alone. A dragon-serpent sat in the cave observing them with sharp silver eyes. Like all serpents, Dragon spoke only through silence, but Aithne and Caradoc, long accustomed to listening to the animals, adapted to this dialect with ease.

  Do not fear, said Dragon. The Gods who sent me find pleasure in your magic. They offer you the gift of High Magic so you may use it for the prosperity of your people.

  “Thunder told us the Gods are displeased and we can no longer use magic,” Caradoc objected.

  The Gods of Thunder are jealous and fearful, responded Dragon. They believe your power threatens their dominion. You have nothing to fear from them. If you choose this path, I will show you how to protect yourself from their wrath.

  Caradoc hesitated, but Aithne stepped forward and asked, “What must we do?”

  Dragon instructed Aithne to bring three elements and Caradoc to bring four. She sent Aithne east in her search and Caradoc west. After three days, both returned having completed their quest. Dragon helped each of them forge their first staff from these elements. Then she gave them a single command.

  Practice magic as you will, but do no harm with this gift.

  “And that is how magic was given to us.” Ghemena closed the book with quiet reverence.

  Eolyn put out a hand to stop her. “But what happened next?”

  “Oh.” The old woman smiled and caught the girl’s fingers in hers. “Only the rest of history. But that’s too much for one sitting. We will continue another day.”

  Chapter Five

  Shape Shifting

  “I’ve been an otter, a hawk, an oak, a wildflower, a turtle, a wolf, a beetle, a northern goose, and a rabbit!” Eolyn caught the lowest branch of a river willow in a single jump. She swung up to sit, her feet dangling above Akmael. The girl had a lithe figure, subtle in its curves, like a length of fine ash suited for crafting a strong bow.

  “What about you?” she asked.

  “I’ve been a wolf too.” Akmael scaled the trunk to sit beside Eolyn, but she continued up the tree. “Master Tzeremond has also turned me into a fox, a spider, a snake, a lynx, a bear and a badger.”

  Eolyn looked down at him with a puzzled expression. “How odd.”

  “Odd?” Akmael thought his list impressive, not odd.

  “They’re all predators,” she said. “Haven’t you ever been a walking stick or something like that?”

  “I was a dragonfly once.”

  “That’s a predator, too.”

  Akmael shrugged and took hold of large knot with both hands to hoist himself up further. “I asked to be turned into a deer once, but Master Tzeremond refused. He said docile animals are a waste of my time.”

  “That’s ridiculous. Ghemena says practitioners of magic should integrate diverse spirits into their craft. Deer have such a completely different way of being than predators. How can it be a waste of time to learn from Deer?”

  “Master Tzeremond says my destiny leaves no room for assuming the ways of subordinate creatures.”

  “Subordinate?” Anger rose hot in Eolyn’s voice. “Deer are not subordinate. Deer can get along just fine without wolves and cats and bears, but find a predator that can live without its prey? Now that would be some impressive magic.”

  “It is unfortunate you were not there to argue the point with Master Tzeremond.”

  “He wouldn’t have listened to me anyway.” Eolyn settled on a high branch and let go a breath of exasperation. “I don’t know how you can stand Tzeremond. Everything you tell me about him is unpleasant, and he’s giving you the most boring education. I can’t imagine shape shifting only into predators.”

  “Tzeremond is a great wizard,” Akmael countered. “And the only Master left in the Kingdom. Father says I am fortunate to be his pupil.”

  In truth, Akmael held little affection for his overbearing tutor, but Eolyn’s attitude annoyed him. It was not her place to question Akmael’s training. Maybe Tzeremond had a grim personality, but the Prince respected what the Master taught. Dominion over magic would make Akmael a powerful king someday, maybe the most powerful in the world.

  “Still,” Eolyn said. “When you become a High Mage and learn to invoke shape shifting on your own, you should turn yourself into something besides a predator. Something interesting.”

  Akmael knew Eolyn well enough by now to understand they would argue about Tzeremond all afternoon if he did not change the subject

  This situation will have to be reported soon.

  The thought pained Akmael, because he knew it would mean confiscation of the silver web and the end of his adventures in the South Woods. Still, duty was duty. The crone Ghemena had to be arrested and burned. As for Eolyn, perhaps she could be brought back to the King’s City and placed with an honorable family.

  Akmael would see to it that no harm came to the girl. It was hardly her fault the witch was teaching her magic, and she was still young enough to unlearn her powers.

  Perhaps I could even convince Father to take her under his wing, just as he did with Mage Corey.

  Akmael’s cousin, Corey of East Selen, had been spared as a boy at Briana’s intervention. So Kedehen could be merciful when the mood struck him, and who would not want to be merciful toward a girl like Eolyn?

  Akmael shifted his position against a wide limb and watched the cobalt sky flicker through the green leaves of the canopy. The smooth bark felt cool against his back, and the fragrance of sun-warmed herbs drifted up from the forest floor. The Mage Prince liked the steady hum of the South Woods. A deep magic ran beneath the earth here.

  “I wouldn’t have thought of an oak.” He shielded his eyes from the sunlight to look at Eolyn. “I wouldn’t have thought of turning into a tree or any other plant for that matter. What is it like?”

  “It’s the most magnificent adventure.” She swung to a lower branch to sit
near him, auburn curls flashing in the sun. “You and I and the animals are accustomed to the weight of flesh upon our bones, but it is different for trees. A tree catches water in the fan of its roots, collects it drop by drop until it runs in a constant river up its trunk. The river divides into branches and then into leaves, until the water bursts forth in a thousand tiny droplets.

  “When you shape shift into a tree, you have the sensation of floating between water in the earth and water in the sky. The breeze wraps around your branches, and you feel the soil turning in tiny currents through your roots. When the sun shines, you feel perpetually satiated, but never full in the heavy sense we have after a large meal. And at night...”

  Her voice drifted off.

  Akmael, who had closed his eyes at some point during her discourse, opened them to find Eolyn peering at him with a curious expression.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “I thought you were going to do it.”

  “Do what?”

  “Shape shift. You started to shimmer, you know.”

  “Really?” Akmael examined his hands. He had felt something, he realized. A tingle in the center of his gut, a light surge of magic through his feet. “Are you certain?”

  “Yes. You were about to shape shift. I’ve seen Ghemena do it. You had exactly the same kind of shimmer she gets just before she changes shape.”

  “That must be how it’s done!” Akmael declared. “You visualize the creature you desire to change into. But who invoked the magic? Was it you or was it me?”

  “I think it was both of us. I think we did it together.”

  “Fantastic!” Akmael clapped his hands. “We must try it again!”

  They abandoned the high branches. For the rest of the afternoon Akmael and Eolyn tried to turn each other into rocks, squirrels, birds, wolves, bushes, fish, frogs, turtles and whatever else they could think of. Once in a while they managed to reach that elusive shimmer between their own shape and the desired form, but they did not achieve a true shape shift.