“What’s wrong?” I asked her.
“Oh, uhh…” she shrugged. “This is just bringing up some memories, that’s all.”
I nodded, letting it go. Ruth Anne had confessed to me that she had fallen in love with a voodoo priestess who lived, and then died, in a similar environment during her time away from Dark Root.
As dusk deepened, our party huddled closer together, walking at half speed. Shane led the way while the rest of us kept our eyes on the strange birds roosting in the bushes and the ripples in the black water.
Merry slowed and put a finger to her lips. “Listen,” she whispered, the whites of her eyes gleaming in the dark.
I heard it. A repentant moan echoed around us. It was soon by joined by other laments, growing louder and closer by the moment. The voices were all female.
“Let’s hope those aren’t banshees,” Ruth Anne said.
Banshees. Please, not banshees.
Banshees were thought to be the souls of wronged or wicked women who exact their revenge by inflicting pain on others – particularly children. A single banshee in the Upper World was difficult to ward off, but a clan of them in the Netherworld could prove impossible. I looked to Shane. Despite the deepening darkness, he continued forward, not breaking step.
“Ah, Geez,” Ruth Anne said, shrugging off her pack. Up ahead there was a flickering torch. She raced towards the light, running full speed. I chased after, calling her name. We came to a row of straw huts. Ruth Anne twined through them, until she came upon a particular shack. A young black woman with long braids stood in the doorway. She had wide almond eyes and a secret smile. Ruth Anne wrapped her arms around the woman’s shoulders, gasping for air as she sobbed against her neck. But the woman just stared vacantly ahead, not seeing Ruth Anne at all.
“Who’s that?” Eve asked, catching up to us.
It was Ruth Anne’s former lover, who had died in a fire while exorcising a demon. “An old friend,” was all I said to Eve.
Ruth Anne was frantically trying to communicate with the woman. Not getting a response, she kicked the doorframe and punched the thatched wall in frustration. I watched, heartbroken, until I couldn’t take it anymore.
“Ruth Anne, please! Can we talk?”
She wiped her eyes and gave the woman a final glance, then returned to me. “She doesn’t know me, Mags,” she whimpered.
“I’m sorry.”
“I just wanted to tell her I loved her, and to apologize for not being with her when she died.”
“She knows that already. See how peaceful she looks?”
Ruth Anne nodded and sniffed. The woman hummed to herself, then stepped back into her house, shutting the door behind her. “Yes, she does look happy, doesn’t she? That’s all I could ever ask for.”
The light inside the hut window went out, and the entire world went silent.
My sister dried her face with her sleeve. “We need to leave this place, please. I can’t handle being here, if I can’t be with her.” She put her hand on her hip, looking around. “But damn, I’m glad I saw her. At least I know, you know?”
“Yes, I know.”
“It’s strange that the truth-portal didn’t show how we parted. Leaving her was my biggest regret, and my darkest secret.”
“It’s not a secret,” I reminded her. “You told me.”
We stood, listening to the only sound remaining – that of our own breaths. Ruth Anne sighed, and then spoke to the small house. “Goodbye my love. I’ll see you again, one day.” She kissed the palm of her hand and offered it to the air. A breeze rolled back the darkness and the huts disappeared, one after another.
“I didn’t know you were so magickal,” I said, impressed.
“It wasn’t magick,” she said. “It was just letting go.”
“Everything okay?” Paul asked, as we rejoined the others beneath a weeping willow tree.
“Yep. Just pondering my existence in this vast universe,” Ruth Anne said, cracking a tight smile.
“Can you ponder a little faster,” Eve asked, looking at the swamp, now in daylight. “Less chit-chat, more skit-skat.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Ruth Anne saluted, taking her bag from Paul and slinging it over her shoulder.
We fell in behind her, marching through the swamp, looking for a way out. I did my best to ignore my wet feet, knowing it was only an illusion. Looking ahead at my sister Ruth Anne, I realized we were leaving pieces of ourselves in the Netherworld, and I wondered if we’d ever find them again.
“I hear music!” Merry said, as we neared a winding river. “It’s a flute!”
A light, whimsical tune whistled through the trees and skimmed along the water. Then we heard people singing along, their stamped cadence reminiscent of an upbeat chain gang. On both sides, a row of people appeared, singing as they marched towards a single point ahead. We watched as they disappeared from view.
We followed them curiously, as we had no other particular way to go. They eventually converged on a monstrous gray boulder, covered in moss and vines, stationed at the base of a hill. On the front face of the rock was a metallic disk with a pull handle. The singing procession phased right through the disk as they marched. Their song disappeared with them, though the flute played on.
We drew in closer and the disc became a mirror. We stared back at our reflections. Shane tightened his jaw. “I think this is it.”
“Think?” Eve asked. “I’m not entering a Netherworld manhole unless we’re damned sure.”
Shane nodded, sounding more confident this time. “Yes. This is it.”
Starlight flapped his wings, hopping along Merry’s shoulder. “It’s owl-approved,” she said.
“Sorry, Eve,” I said, pulling rank as I reached for the handle. “We don’t seem to have a choice.”
The door wouldn’t budge. The others pitched in, without effect.
“It’s worse than one of Aunt Dora’s preserve jars,” Merry lamented, wiping her hand with a tissue from her purse. “Why is it no one thought to bring wet wipes?”
Ruth Anne’s eyes widened as she leafed through her bag and withdrew Mother’s spell book. “Surely there’s something in here we can use.
We searched the book, and found many spells to unlock jars, car doors, vaults and even hearts. I tried a few, but nothing seemed to work.
“Here we go!” Ruth Anne said, stopping at a cracked page written in tiny calligraphy. The title read: ‘Master Realm Access. Prepared by Goodwife Snow. 1694.
“What if it sends us to the wrong realm?” I asked.
“We don’t even know what realm we’re in, or what realm we’re going to, so how could it be the wrong realm?” Eve asked.
Everyone stood back as I recited the incantation:
From this realm, we wish to flee.
Let our bodies be the key.
Guide us through the closest veil
Towards the light and far from hell.
“You forgot to say, “so mote it be,” Merry whispered.
“So mote it be,” I added, slamming the book shut. I didn’t like some of those older spells. Even the helpful ones could sound ominous.
There was a great trembling in the earth around us. The ground tilted and lurched, and rocks higher on the hill were shaken loose. We covered our heads and stepped back. The sky darkened considerably, and the wind picked up.
From the earth before us, a crude human form rose up, shaping itself from clay. Twigs, leaves and moss were pulled into it, and the body took on a rough texture, with bark for skin and red foliage for hair. It was a giant, at least seven feet tall, broad and muscular. He stretched the budding branches emerging from his torso and they became arms and legs. His green eyes surveyed each of us, turning ember red along the way. Two enormous antlers sprouted from his head.
“None may pass through my gate without my consent!” he bellowed, appearing angry at having been awakened. The tree-deer-man lifted his ‘root’ legs, shaking off dirt.
Was he friend or
foe? I wondered. “May we have your permission?”
He bent low, his branches rustling, and sniffed at each of us. “Only the dead may pass from Summerland,” he said. “And you’re not dead.”
“No, but I need to go inside. Please, I need to find a witch named Larinda.”
“Larinda?” he asked. “The witch who resides on Eagle Mountain? Consort of Armand?”
“Yes! That’s her.”
“I will let no ally of Armand through. He has polluted our world already!” He roared, and the ground shook again.
“We should go, Mags,” Ruth Anne pulled at my sleeve.
“Go? Go where?” I spread my arms, looking around. I took a step towards the creature, and explained my story. I showed him my ankh and told him of my son. I hoped I wasn’t making a mistake, but I sensed he tolerated liars even less than the lost. “Please,” I asked again.
The creature’s eyes softened. He reached into his leaves and produced a richly carved flute, polished to starlight silver. He lifted it to his lips and played three long notes. Then he lowered the instrument and his appearance shifted. The shape of an actual man emerged, with sharp pointed features, wavy autumn hair, and long delicate fingers. His antlers shrank to mere horns, and his rich brown skin became smooth. He was adorned in lavish, colorful clothing. He was quite handsome and… regal.
“You’re a prince!” I said.
“Not a prince, a king. Though in the Upper World, they call me a god!” He cocked his head and smiled, seemingly amused by the notion. “I am Cernunnos, and I am the ruler of this place. You must have a gift, red-haired lady. Only a goddess can pull me from my guise unless I’m at my court.”
He stepped forward with long, rickety strides. His feet were hesitant to leave the ground, as if his legs were rooted. His eyes matched the color of spring foliage, sparkling like two gems against his tan skin. He lifted a strand of my red hair, several shades darker than his own. “So lovely,” he said. “Like unrefined silk.” He bowed low, one long arm gracefully extending behind him. “And who are you?”
“Maggie Maddock, from Dark Root.” I introduced the others. He nodded at each, though his eyes stopped at Eve. He examined her, head to toe, then kissed her hand. It seemed that even Netherworld kings were not immune to her beauty and sensuality.
“Your musical instrument is exquisite,” Merry said.
At this, he dropped Eve’s hand and showed us his flute. “You have good taste! It is carved from the finest wood, found only in my kingdom. Its sound is sweet enough to summon even the shyest of souls, and the most mischievous of fairies. My role in this world is to assist those who are ready to move on from Summerland. Would you like another tune? I composed one just this morning, though no one wants to my new stuff,” he said, lowering his eyes. “They say ‘Stick to the classics!’. Don’t they understand I’m an artist?”
“I would love to hear more!” Merry said, clapping her hands.
“No!” I stamped my foot. “We need to find my son, and we need to get through your kingdom to do so. May we have your consent?” Cernunnos furrowed his bristly brows, his flute poised at his lips. “If you let us inside,” I continued, softer now, “Merry will listen to your music. We all will.”
He lowered his flute, as if deciding. His eyes grazed both Merry and Eve with interest. “Fine, though it is Feast Day. We are celebrating the Feast of the Crone! You will be expected to attend the festivities if I guide you into my land.”
I felt my timer, wishing I could look at it without drawing attention. I wasn’t sure how long a ‘Feast Day’ took, but I felt forced to agree. “We’d be delighted to be your guests,” I said, bowing.
Shane offered me a quick smile, showing his approval of my budding diplomacy skills.
“Perhaps after the feast, you can show us the way to Eagle Mountain,” I pressed, while I took one of Cernunnos’ arms and Merry took the other.
He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, his eyes shifting left and then right. His arms were covered in a soft layer of fuzz that was both primal and masculine, and I found myself aroused in his presence. The way my sisters flushed, I sensed their reactions were similar - including Ruth Anne.
“I cannot show you the way to Eagle Mountain, but perhaps I can find you another guide inside.” Cernunnos smiled, his grin stretching across his face. I noticed then that his teeth were pointed. “But first, we feast and partake in merriment! I will even give you a tour of my kingdom. I’m sure you will find rest and rejuvenation within. And then, you can go off and find your son.”
Though he spoke to me, his eyes and attention were on Merry the entire time.
6
The Hierophant
Cernunnos waved his hand and the giant circular door unscrewed itself three full revolutions. He pulled it open and bade us enter. “It’s safe, nothing to worry about,” he said, winking at Merry.
Ruth Anne was the first to step up. “Why do I feel like I’m walking into a bad Grimm fairy tale?” she asked.
“Hopefully not Hansel and Gretel,” Paul said. “Eve’s been fattening me up.”
We went into the dark hole, only to emerge into a vast and radiant woodland. The sun seemed so close here, yet the temperature was perfect. Once we were all through, the doorway sealed behind us, camouflaged by tulips and rose vines.
“Things keep getting more and more beautiful in the Netherworld,” Merry commented, as a butterfly the size of her hand fluttered around us. Starlight hooted and flapped his wings, as if asking to join in. “I only wish Michael were here to see this.”
“Michael?” Cernunnos asked, but Merry was already lost again in her surroundings.
“Are these tomatoes?” she asked, bending to inspect a soft red fruit, as large as a cantaloupe.
“My very best,” Cernunnos acknowledged, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He then took a step towards her, cocking his head. “You have Gaia’s blood, Merry. You are an earth mother, and it is an honor to meet one so beautiful… and young.”
As Merry marveled at the vegetation, Cernunnos lifted her hand, studying her fingertips, from knuckle to nail. “I have never touched a creature so soft and exquisite.”
“Okay, that’s enough, pal,” Shane said. “That’s my sister-in-law you’re pawing.”
Merry put out her arm and smiled. “It’s okay, Shane, I’m a big girl. Although it’s nice to be called your sister.” She looked at me, her blue eyes shining. “He fed me some of his energy. I feel so alert now! So alive!”
“Guilty as charged.” Cernunnos beamed. “I could sense that your heart was… heavy.”
“Yes,” she sighed. “It was. But I’m feeling better now.”
“This garden is nothing,” Cernunnos declared, opening his arms. “When you see the real fruits and vegetables of my labor, your smile will be seen from the moon! And if that doesn’t impress you, my banquet tonight will.”
“I hope we’re not the main course of this meal,” Eve whispered.
Cernunnos and Merry walked ahead, giving us a tour of the abundant plant life. Some I knew from the Upper World, and some could only be found in a dream. Merry fawned over each and every one, petting petals and tickling stems.
Then we came upon a patch where a few of the vegetables had withered. Cernunnos’s brows knitted. “All ugly and worthless,” he said, pointing at the worm-eaten food. “I shall get rid of it, so that you won’t have to look upon it.” He pointed, and an eggplant crumbled into dust.
“Stop!” Merry pulled his arm down as he moved to the next. “Let me try.”
She touched a giant snap pea, gingerly caressing it as she hummed a sweet lullaby. And then she blew the vegetable a kiss. “Grow,” she said simply.
And it did.
The plant doubled in size, no longer afflicted, but robust and healthy. Cernunnos inspected it carefully. When he returned his attention to Merry, he was entirely enamored. “You are a descendent of Gaia herself!” he said.
“He’s smitten,” I whisper
ed to Shane, as we followed behind them on a cobblestone path, a shaped hedge on either side. “Perhaps he’s never met a Nature Witch before.”
“You Maddock girls cast quite the spell.”
The path twisted and turned between the hedges, though it wasn’t quite a maze and we didn’t quite get lost. I fell back with Ruth Anne, who was mapping the path as we walked.
“Watch this.” She looked around, then took out her pocketknife and cut a leaf from the hedge. It grew back instantly. “The flora in this world is amazing, and don’t even get me started on the fauna.”
“I won’t.”
“Penny for your fortune,” a woman’s cracked voice said as we rounded the next bend.
“Not a penny, fool!” said another woman’s voice. “We charge a nickel now.”
“Bah! I remember when a penny could buy two fortunes!”
Three woman appeared in an alcove within the hedge, all grasping the handle of a giant silver ladle. Together they stirred an enormous black cauldron, tossing in ingredients they summoned out of the air. We should’ve been surprised to see them but we weren’t, which was more surprising. This place had already started to claim us.
I looked ahead to see the others continuing along the cobblestone path, oblivious.
“Witches?” I asked, stupidly. These were not just witches, but storybook witches with pointed hats and curly-toed shoes and missing teeth. The oldest caught me staring at a growth on the back of her hand.
“You like?” she asked, tapping on the lump. “I could arrange for you to have one.”
I shook my head. “Let’s keep going,” I said to Ruth Anne.
“But don’t you want your fortunes read?” asked the youngest witch. She was shorter than the others, but made up for it in girth.
“There are too many variables in this world,” Ruth Anne countered. “So there are no fortunes.”
The middle witch, her age somewhere between the other two, smiled. Her eyes were covered in milky clouds, as if she had cataracts. “That is true. But there are some things in your path that are unavoidable. Look closely.”
The Shadows of Dark Root (Daughters of Dark Root Book 5) Page 11
