The Shadows of Dark Root (Daughters of Dark Root Book 5)

by April Aasheim

  “I’m afraid too, Evie,” I admitted. “In fact, I’m freaked-the-fuck-out, too. But I have no choice. You do have a choice. I’ll still love you, even if you don’t go.”

  Eve sighed, letting it out slowly. “Well, I can’t let you guys go and come out with all these awesome stories. Let’s go be scared together.”

  I squeezed her hand. “Thank you.”

  “C’mon Evie,” Merry said, “I’ll buy you an ice cream. I hear calories don’t count in the afterlife.”

  Eve nodded, looking visibly better.

  As they walked away, Merry called back over her shoulder. “Jillian’s looking for you, Maggie. She wants you back at Harvest Home, right away.”

  “Is everything okay?” I asked.

  Shane and I stood before Jillian and Aunt Dora, who were seated at the garden table in the back yard. Only now, there was no garden, and the ornate marble table looked as out of place as the giant heads on barren Easter Island.

  On the far side of the yard, Michael had set up a mat and was moving through a series of yoga poses. I eyed the corner of his mat, tugging at it in my mind. Michael tumbled out of warrior two, falling on his ass. I kept my face expressionless as he looked suspiciously our way.

  “Thank god yer back, Maggie,” Aunt Dora said. “Can ya talk ta that man? He’s been doing them poses fer hours, an’ chantin’ the whole time. Are all men such fools when they’re about ta turn forty?”

  Shane flushed. “This sounds like a conversation I don’t want to be involved in. I’m gonna go put on a clean shirt,” he said, turning towards the house.

  “You called me back to stop Michael from practicing yoga?” I asked, annoyed but also relieved.

  “No. Was just goin’ ta use the opportunity since yer here.”

  My eyes drifted towards Michael. He was a buffoon, but a harmless one. And Aunt Dora usually appreciated his company. He must have been particularly exasperating today.

  “Now Dora,” Jillian said, patting her hand. “Not all men have a midlife crisis. And for the ones who do, that doesn’t mean they all end up like…”

  “…My father,” I finished for her. I took a seat at the table, resting my elbows on it. “You knew him better than anyone, Jillian. What do you think went so wrong for him?”

  Jillian pulled at the shawl draping her shoulders. She looked frail in that moment, not at all the vibrant woman I’d come to know. “I believe those dark tendencies in your father were always there. I saw it within him in his younger days, but I kept telling myself he’d outgrow it, or that I could save him.”

  I understood. Though Michael wasn’t dark, per say, I had seen facets of his personality I chose to ignore when we were together. “If I knew then what I know now, I doubt I would have run off with Michael. But I got Montana out of it, so it wasn’t all a waste.”

  “And I got you,” Jillian said warmly.

  Aunt Dora opened her mouth, then snapped it shut. She had always been second-in-command of my life, after Sasha. But now that I knew Jillian was my biological mother, my aunt probably felt she’d lost her place in my familial hierarchy.

  “Auntie, if Michael’s bothering you, I’ll put an end to it.”

  I started to get up, but Aunt Dora stopped me, her veined hand closing around my wrist. “No. I shouldn’t be addin’ ta yer worries. It’s bad enough I may ne’er see any o’ ya again after ya go into the Netherworld.” She clamped her hand over her mouth and widened her eyes. “Oh, no! I cursed ya. Oh, Maggie, girl. What have I done?”

  “It’s not a curse,” I said quickly, before she properly worked herself up. “You said may. May.”

  “Words have power, and may just softens them a bit.” My aunt blew her nose with a tissue from the pocket of her housedress. “Tis not the time to send mixed messages to the Universe.” She made the sign of the cross on her chest, as she had seen Michael do numerous times, and I hid my smile.

  We drank silently, all the while wondering if this was our very last tea party. Michael continued his sun salutations and I envied the peaceful look on his face. If – when - my son returned, I hoped that Michael’s patience rubbed off on him. If Montana were indeed a warlock, he’d need to learn to weather the storms of Dark Root, rather than create them.

  Shane returned, clean-shaven, wearing fresh jeans and a blue t-shirt. Only his boots and cowboy hat showed signs of wear. He eyed Michael. “If that guy stops to do a downward dog in the Netherworld, we’re not waiting for him.”

  “Agreed,” I said.

  “Maggie, Shane, can I speak to you two in private?” Jillian asked.

  I glanced at Aunt Dora. She winked, letting me know she could handle Michael if needed.

  We followed Jillian towards the west edge of the woods, through a narrow opening between two slender trees. I began to sense magick ripening around me. The further we got from Harvest Home, the richer it was. The plants and earth still seemed affected, though not as severely as they were near Harvest Home. I pulled a leaf from an overhanging bough. It crumbled in my hand, as if it were late autumn.

  “Jillian, did you and Aunt Dora draw magick from out here, too?”

  She stopped, turning to look at me with a grave expression. “I suppose you should know, but please don’t tell the others yet. I don’t want them to worry.” She looked around, though there was only foliage as far as the eye could see. “Magick isn’t just fading near Harvest Home, it fading all over Dark Root.”

  “All over?” I asked, as she began walking again, faster than before.

  “Yes. It weakens by the day - even here where its more concentrated than in other parts of the forest. But I can’t let Dora know. She’s so old now, and has worked so hard for so long.” Jillian wiped her face with her hand, drawing in a long breath. “What I’m about to show you has been kept secret for many years. Sasha showed me when I was an initiate, and now I’m showing you. Discretion is imperative.”

  My mother turned abruptly, and proceeded down a marshy path. The trees seemed to know her, spreading their boughs wide to let her pass. Eventually, she came to a halt, and pulled back a branch with wide, fan-shaped leaves. I realized we had looped all the way around and were on the back side of Sister House.

  “Why are we here already?” I asked, looking through the woods to the white Victorian home. “I thought we didn’t need to be here until the evening.”

  “We won’t be going inside. I just wanted to show you where we were first.” Jillian backtracked several steps, spun to the right, and then parted another thick clump of limbs. We emerged into a welcome patch of sunshine.

  “Here,” she motioned to a tree inside the clearing. It was tall and wide and majestic, with golden upturned boughs that saluted the heavens. The tree was just like the one we’d seen at Jillian’s ruins, only much larger.

  “We’ve seen that tree! Shane, show her the picture!”

  Shane produced his phone, showing her the image.

  “It’s the same tree!” Jillian gasped.

  “Just smaller,” I agreed, studying them both. In every way except for size, the two were identical. Even the trunk was charred in the exact location of its smaller doppelgänger. “The miniature tree appeared today, behind your old studio,” I said.

  “How unusual,” Jillian said, pressing her palms and ears to the trunk, listening for its pulse as Shane and I had earlier. Next, she dipped a finger into a nearby puddle of clear water, and drew sigils over the tree trunk I recognized as health and serenity. She then gave the tree a silent blessing, and wiped her hands clean.

  “I am the caretaker of this tree, and someday, someone else will inherit the task. Until recently, it’s always been healthy. I can’t tell you how much this troubles me.”

  Jillian stepped away, seating herself on a fallen log. She cradled her face in her hands, deepening the worry lines in her forehead. When she looked at me again, her normally vibrant green eyes had muddied. “I suppose I should have expected this sort of synchronicity.”

  �
��What do you mean?” Shane asked. “What synchronicity?”

  “Come sit,” my mother said, motioning to the log on either side of her. We flanked her and she took each of our hands. I could feel a hint of her old magick returning, either from tending to the tree or from venturing away from Harvest Home. It was muffled, but there. “There is a saying: As above, so below. That means, what happens in the Netherworld also happens here. The reverse is true as well. We are all connected. One world mirrors the other, to a degree.”

  “If the worlds are mirrors, why does Larinda have a castle in the Netherworld, but not here?” I asked.

  Jillian sighed deeply and drew her hands back onto her lap, tapping her fingers along her knees. “Magick is much more concentrated in that realm. In fact, you can say that it is one of the sources of our magick here, in this realm. And Larinda’s fortress was built on deception. She never wanted to share it with anyone but Armand, and so when she created it, she set that intention. Now, it’s become her prison, as a house constructed of greed usually does.

  “The tree I showed you is no ordinary tree. It is the Tree of Life. Or, more accurately, one of seven earthly representations scattered across our plane of existence. The original resides in the Netherworld. It is very old, born at the creation of this current Age, and will live until the end of this Age. Each of the seven earthly trees is assigned a female guardian, who cares for it until her seventh decade, or until another guardian is found.”

  “You’re the guardian for the Tree of Life?” I asked, overcome with wonder. There was far more to Jillian than her appearance let on. In fact, her layers seemed endless.

  “Just one of seven guardians. That was why Sasha recruited me. She had inherited the duty from her own mother, but Sasha admittedly wasn’t suited for the task.” Jillian laughed hoarsely as she called up the memory. “Sasha was a powerful woman, but she was no Green Witch.”

  “Is the burn new?” I asked.

  “Yes. And this is what has me deeply troubled. The tree shouldn’t sicken until the final days of this Age, which should last several more centuries, at least. I fear time is speeding up, and if that happens… well, that is what the Dark Root Council has been preparing for all along. The end of times. The domes. The white magick. All the protection rituals. Essentially, the Council exists to protect this tree.”

  She removed her shawl and folded it neatly onto her lap. “The original Tree of Life is hidden somewhere in the Netherworld. If it dies, so do we. The seven trees protect the one, and the one protects the seven. As above, so below.”

  Shane and I exchanged worried glances . “Die?” I asked. “As in everyone, everywhere?”

  She swallowed, looking much older than her years, and nodded slowly. Her normally neatly-coiffed hair had fallen from its pins during our hike, framing her worried face with gray-streaked tendrils.

  “Why weren’t we told?” I asked. “This seems rather important.”

  “The end will come, whether we want it to or not. We hoped to delay it with enough light, care, and magick.” She glanced at the burn mark on the tree. “I believe this is the work of your father, who is seeking to push through his deal for power and immortality. He is trying to hasten it, before there is a turn around. Going into the Netherworld is not only about saving Montana now, it’s about saving everyone. Armand cannot be allowed to trade his first-born male heir, your son.”

  I stood, wiping off my skirt. “I can’t save everyone! It’s too much! I just want Montana back.”

  “I remember Uncle Joe talking about the Tree of Life,” Shane said, rising to his feet. “Uncle Joe said that when the final tree succumbs to the darkness, our world will come to an end. I thought it was just a myth. Or alcohol.”

  “I’m afraid not,” Jillian said. “I’m not sure what condition the other trees are in, as they are all kept separately hidden by their guardians. But if the magick is dwindling from Dark Root, it’s fading all around the world. It will do you no good to find Montana, only to bring him back to a world of darkness.”

  “Our entire civilization hinges on trees?” I asked, in disbelief.

  “It always has,” Jillian said simply. She stood and wrapped the shawl around her thin shoulders again. “There is still hope, though.” She reached into her hip pouch and produced a white acorn.

  Shane and I inspected it, looking upon the acorn as if it were a holy relic. Perhaps it was. There was so much magick in it that I couldn’t bring myself to touch it, feeling somehow unworthy.

  Jillian proffered the acorn. “Take it, Maggie. If you find the original Tree of Life and it’s in decay as I suspect, then you must plant another. But it can’t take root in the same location, as that soil will be tainted. You will know where to plant it, when the time comes.”

  “Where did you get this seed?” Shane asked.

  “Armand gave it to me as a gift, when he was courting me. I didn’t know until later that he brought it from the Netherworld. It is from the original Tree of Life. He claimed he won it in a game of dice. Years later, your father demanded it back, once his greed had fully taken hold and he discovered what it was truly worth. He wanted to destroy it, claiming there was more to be gained by the destruction of the world than a new beginning.”

  “How did you keep it from him?”

  “I took it with me when I left Dark Root the first time, and hid it under so many layers of magick that I almost forgot about it myself. Until today.” She looked at her tree again, sadly. “I’m sorry,” she said. And that was all.

  I let my hand rest on the acorn a moment, drawing in its powerful otherworldly magick, before placing it in my skirt pocket. I felt the baby hat, and showed it to Jillian. “We found this in the tree,” I said. “Montana was wearing it the day he disappeared. And I swore I heard his heartbeat from within the trunk.”

  “I think your son is sending you messages from the Netherworld! If this cap was with him on the other side, I might be able to tune in.” Jillian clenched the hat, fingering it as she closed her eyes. She mumbled in a language I couldn’t understand, invoking ancestors I’d never met.

  “He’s okay,” she said, after a long and frightening pause. “I saw him in a woman’s arms. He was physically fine, but I sensed his fear. I could feel him calling out for you.”

  My hand went to my heart. My child was afraid and needed me. “How much time do we have?”

  “All the time in the world,” Jillian said. “And none.”

  “As above, so below,” I said, plopping down beside Jillian on the porch swing at Sister House. Our legs were drawn into our laps, and the swing moved of its own accord.

  Jillian smiled at me. “You shouldn’t waste your gifts on swings. Magick is a resource that grows scarcer by the moment, these days.”

  “I don’t care. What good is being a wilder if I can’t use it from time to time. Besides, it reminds me of Montana. Remember how he’d make his baby swing go, all by himself!” I smiled at the memory, holding it close to my heart. “Oh, Jillian. Montana was the best part of me. How can I go on if I don’t find him?”

  “You will find him. But I will give you the same advice Sasha gave me, when I lost my brother in the Vietnam War.”

  “You had a brother? I had an uncle?”

  “Yes. I admired him so much. He was handsome and kind and good. He died saving a friend. But anyway…” she looked past me, at a ghost only she could see.

  “When Sasha found me, I was a shell of my former self,” Jillian continued. “I remember her telling me, ‘Jillian, when the best of us are taken, the rest of us must step up.’ It was simple and direct, but her words got through to me. My brother was gone, but I was not. The best way to honor his legacy was to be a light in the world, just as he was.”

  “That breaks my heart, Jillian. In so many ways.”

  “Mine too, but it also sustains me.”

  “Is there anything else I need to know?” I asked, looking out at the waning sun.

  “Darling, there is so m
uch to tell you, and not enough earthly minutes to tell them in.” She spread her hand across her lap, and thought. “From what I understand, Magick is immediate in the Netherworld. On this plane, you need candles, stones, rituals and time to cast spells. But there, a mere thought can alter reality immediately. And focus items intensify the effects.

  “It is a volatile world, and the rules will change as soon as you master them. Plus, there are many ‘existences’ in the Netherworld, and each operates independent of the others. There is no guide or roadmap. If your mind gets messy, you risk getting lost permanently.”

  “Shane’s teaching me to summon rainbows,” I blurted, wanting to impress her. “That should help keep my mind uncluttered.”

  “He’s a good match for you, and his skills will be invaluable on the other side of the veil. But this is your journey, Maggie. This is about you and your son. Only you can plant the acorn, and only you can find Montana.”

  Shane returned, carrying a bouquet of wildflowers in his arms. I reached out to take them, but he handed them to Jillian instead.

  “What’s the occasion?” she asked, smiling as she inhaled their fragrance.

  “Life.”

  “Maggie, take a bit of this lavender. It’s cleansing.” Jillian handed me a sprig, and I added it to the other things in my pocket. I could get a bag, but I wanted to touch them at a moment’s notice.

  At dusk, our tribe gathered in the Sister House nursery. Most of us wore our earlier clothes, though Eve had changed, wearing fitted pants and heeled boots, looking as if she were going for a night on the town, rather than a journey to the Netherworld.

  We stood in the center of the room, looking warily towards the closet door. Decades ago, my father had opened a portal into the Netherworld inside this room. Now, I was literally going to follow in his footsteps. I prayed our fates wouldn’t be the same.

  Jillian read from a spell book, offering invocations of protection. When finished, she closed the book and spoke. “I have prepared the portal. You will enter here, though you likely won’t return through this same passage. That will depend on many things, including timelines.”