by Nat Burns
Fede stretched across my father and descended, wrapping around the body. My father’s outstretched arms and legs were pulled in to his torso, and Fede lifted the now streamlined body. The dirge began then as our two joins linked hands and sang Fede onto her journey to Lake Feidlimed. I’d seen the taking a few times before but never with someone this close to me. Grandmother Glory had been the closest but I’d been a young wit then, just learning about life and death.
And then there was Mother. How could I let her go? I dropped my gaze to the ground, seeking strength from Mother Earth under my feet. Would I survive without her? My training was incomplete. I was only fifteen centuries old, with so much still to learn. The thought that Mother would not be there to guide me through my own mother and crone cycles rankled. I turned and looked at DaisyFir Widdershins, powerful wit and loving woman. Sudden anger and hatred filled me. How dare Signe Ray come into my join and take those I loved from me? How dare he? I bit my lip on the inside to keep from growling in fury. Afton sensed my all-consuming anger and glowed red and yellow. I could feel calming energy washing from him.
I mounted the steps and knelt next to my mother’s form. “I’ll avenge you, Mother. You and Father. Somehow,” I whispered. “Soon.”
Irine touched my face and my mother’s beautiful eyes exploded onto my mind. She was talking to Irine, and it was a message for me.
They have Avapeony, she said. Cleome, save her.
I beat my fists against my stomach and leaned across my dead mother. In my bewilderment and grief, I had all but forgotten my sister.
“Cleome, don’t,” MayApple said next to me. Sobs welled in her voice, choking the words.
“They have Avapeony,” I muttered.
MayApple gasped. “No, DaisyFir said she was at Lore join today.”
“She was,” I nodded. “But she came back. Brinc clan took her.”
“To what end?”
“Conversion,” Pine answered.
We turned and studied him. Tall and lanky, with long, white-blond hair, he was on the verge of manhood. He’d yet to commit to a join but many believed it would be soon. He was drawn to Hippa of Thorn join. His hands fiddled with the edge of his tunic as he regarded us and his fammie, Cin, settled calmly onto his shoulder.
“Conversion?” I asked.
“Yes.” He nodded. “I still see Locre from time to time. He told me once that Signe wants to grow his numbers. They make periodic raids on some of the outlying joins.”
“He’s Givan join. Brinc clan. You know it’s forbidden for you to talk with him, Pine,” MayApple said. She glanced toward Craghn and found him entertaining Mint, too far away to hear their conversation.
Pine shrugged. “Just because Brinc clan decides they no longer want to associate with us, it doesn’t mean that birth unions just go away.”
I knew the truth of this. The new Brinc rules of separation had pitted join mates against one another as interjoins between the clans had always been the norm. In happier times.
“But, we have the lake, Pine. They can grow atrebuds there,” I said, scrubbing tears from my face.
Pine spread his hands. “Locre has never said for sure, but what I am led to believe is that their fammies are too weak to create.”
“Oh no,” I muttered. This was too horrible to contemplate.
Afton pushed against me. “Irine,” he said, connecting against my shoulder.
“Enough,” I said. “We need to say farewell to Mother. Irine swells.”
We turned as one to see the bloated, gray fammie bobbing above my mother’s body. If a clan member is left too long away from Lake Feidlimed after death, his fammie would perish as well, and its energy would be lost.
“Tell her it’s time,” I said to Afton.
Afton drifted across and connected with Irine. He sped back to me and Irine took up the body of my mother as we circled and chanted her away. Sorrow seared my heart as I watched her body float along the tree line and a sense of hopelessness washed across me. How could I go on? My entire join had been killed. I allowed a few moments of self-pity, wallowed in it, then pulled myself together. I welcomed the anger anew. One thought filled my mind: rescuing Avapeony.
Book Three
“YOU CAN’T GO after her, Cleome. It would mean certain death,” Yewsy said. She leaned back in her chair and lifted her mug of tea to her lips. Her fingers smoothed the polished wood of the cup as she drank and the sight soothed me and grounded me with normalcy. Yewsy had been caressing her wooden mugs since old enough to sup.
She and I had been birthed together, atrebuds summoned by sister Mothers on the banks of Lake Feidlimed at the same time. Our fammies had been lifted from our faces at the same moment and so their connection had been forged as well. I studied Afton and Brennen as they hovered together. Both male energy fammies, they’d told our mothers that Yewsy and I both would have extraordinary courage. And so it had been.
“I agree,” MayApple said. She sat in a heavy, ornately-carved wooden chair near the open window, her gaze on the trees and plants outside. Wind stirred her curly, white hair and Ninne made purring sounds as she whirled in her lap.
It was the morning after my parents’ murder and my sister’s abduction. I’d spent a restless night in Yewsy’s cell, even though I’d been comforted by the heat of her body. I’d yet to cry heartily but knew that mourning would happen much later, after my anger had been spent.
“I have to go,” I replied, staring into my own cup of mead. Mead was the only food I could stomach, and though I didn’t really want anything, I knew I needed nature’s strength for the task ahead. “There’s no one else.”
Mint wandered to me, and I pulled her up and onto my lap. I brushed her fammie, Freyan, aside so I could press my lips to her pale hair. I lifted her grass dolly from the table and handed it to her.
“Men from the joins would go,” MayApple countered. “They are our soldiers. This is what they do, protect us, rescue us.”
“When in our history have we needed such things?” I asked.
MayApple grunted and turned to impale me with her crystal blue eyes. “Yes, we have enjoyed peace for many lifetimes but it doesn’t mean they have forgotten their very nature.”
“We are warriors, too, sister Mother. And our ken is much stronger than theirs. I feel we will need more than brawn to infiltrate Brinc clan.”
“Our wit does seem useless against their machines,” Yewsy muttered. “And I’m not sure that our men would fare much better.”
I hung my head, acknowledging the truth of her words.
MayApple stood and shed her morning robe. I was always amazed at the strength of her form even though she’d walked Mother Earth for centuries. Her arms and legs, clothed in tight flaxen weave, were slim, yet strong and sturdy. Her midsection was bound with supple, peeled woodbine which, when woven, supported her breasts and held her daggers. She reminded me very much of my mother, except Mother’s long hair had been ebon while MayApple’s was purest white.
“I’m going to the forest,” she said. Ninne glowed green then brown and green again, and I knew MayApple would be seeking answers there, in the sacred sanctuary of the Morri.
“What are you going to do?” Yewsy asked quietly after her mother had left the cottage. She stood and took Mint from me, carrying her to her mother’s abandoned chair. She sat and pulled Mint close, as if for comfort. The little atrebud seemed to understand and she wrapped her thin arms around Yewsy’s neck. Their fammies mingled and glowed brightly against the sisters’ white-blonde hair.
“I don’t understand why Brinc clan has become violent. Why they have so little regard for life and magic. How did they come to be this way?” I muttered.
“They say it was a Mother from Prosee join. One who’s gone back to the lake now. She fell in love with a Milesian from the outside,” Yewsy said. She was making faces at Mint, causing her to giggle.
“Outside, outside? A Human? Not just someone from Outlie join?” Why had I never heard this
tale?
Yewsy shooed Mint off her lap and came to sit at the table. Brennen was spinning rapidly in excitement. “I overheard Effie and her elder sister talking about it—”
“Effie from Brinc clan?”
“Yes, Resin join. I wasn’t with them, like Pine gathers with Locre, I just overheard them at the edge of the forest when I was collecting green grain. I didn’t mean to go so close to Brinc lands but got turned around onto the wrong path when I crossed over River Finlo. I have no idea why they were having lessons so close to the border but I could hear them clearly.”
I nodded my understanding. “So, why were they talking about this? You said a lesson?”
Yewsy nodded and sipped her cold tea. Her eyes wandered to Mint, who was sitting in the center of the floor, levitating her dolly. “I think so.”
“How did she meet an outsider? They never come this far into our forest.”
“I have no idea. But he must have crossed the Silver Veil somehow. The point is, he brought tech from his side and Carh was telling Effie that the Prosee mother, Kifly, they called her, became enamored of it and began incorporating the machines into her magic.”
“And that’s how it all started?” I was aghast. “How long ago?”
She scratched her head thoughtfully. “It’s been in our time. We were atrebuds, I think. Newly birthed.”
I sighed sadly. “So much has changed so quickly. I remember Mother meeting with Ambley Resin to exchange jams. So the foremother fell in love with a Human? How?” I asked again.
“He probably wandered from his lands, crossed over, then got lost in the forest, much as many Meab do.” Yewsy rose and carried her mug to the washbasin.
My gaze found Mint, and I watched as she chanted a mundane working to make her dolly grow hair the color of mine. Frustrated by no result, she groaned and looked up expectantly.
“You have to wrap the working, Mint. It won’t work unless you say ”˜for the good of all’.”
She smiled at me and slowly blinked bright blue eyes. “Oh, I forgot.” She shook her head and mimed as if berating herself for forgetting. Freyan nudged her playfully.
“Humans usually have no contact with the Witta. Or the Brinc, for that matter. I can’t imagine the two falling in love. Humans are so...” Words failed Yewsy.
“Well...big,” I offered. “And they smell very strange.”
“Yes, and they are ruled by laws that go contrary to nature. They don’t even have fammies.”
“And don’t forget the machines,” I reminded her. “They call them industrial revolution, my grandmother Glory once told me.”
Book Four
“SO, CLEOME, WHAT are you going to do?” Yewsy asked, her gaze pinning me. She knelt on her chair and rested her forearms on the table. Brennen flattened himself on the worn wooden top as if awaiting my answer, as well.
I sighed again and leaned back in my chair. I fondled Afton, comforted by his trill of pleasure. “I have to go rescue her. Who knows what they are doing to her? I...I can’t just...ignore this.”
I let Afton go and leaned forward until Yewsy and I were almost nose-to-nose. “I hate Signe Ray for destroying my join.”
Yewsy gasped and Brennen rose to spin rapidly. “We are not allowed to hate, Cleome.” She looked around as if fearing the wrath of the forest would descend.
Speaking of hate was forbidden for it set a whole new set of energies into action. I could never take this back now that I’d said it aloud. The only way now was forward into this hate. I had to resolve it, even if my death was the result.
Yewsy moaned and covered her face with her hands. “So, now you have to go and, to keep you in one piece, I will have to go, too. I am not ready for this.”
I straightened my back. “There is no need for you to go. This is a path I must walk alone.”
She eyed me with amused disdain. “Umhm,” she replied.
She rose and opened the magic cupboard. She took out seven green candles and placed them on the workbench. She hummed the tones that would awaken the slumbering Lares, or house sprites, as she moved about the room gathering specific items. Mint approached, bringing her doll with her, fingers tangled in the long, black tresses the doll had magically grown.
“What are you doing, sister?” she asked, horizontally seesawing the doll on the heavy wooden worktable.
“We have to find Avapeony, so we can go rescue her,” Yewsy replied absently. She made an inverted triangle with the candles. The censer went into the center and she set it alight, as well as the candles. I came close and she took a handful of precious salt and scattered it in a circle around us.
“Would you like to sing us in, Mint?” she asked her sister.
Mint smiled, closed her eyes and began the working welcome.
Seven sacred shining ones speak words of power bright
Illuminated beings fill us with your light
Choices that we make tonight must stand the test of time
Step by step and stone by stone the future we will climb
Yewsy smiled indulgently and caressed Mint’s cheek. “Very good! Now, stand back a bit.”
“Anima mea, turbata et valde, usquequo,” Yewsy said, then muttered it twice more.
I leaned into the magic, Afton heavy on my shoulder. “Anima mea, turbata et valde,” I said in concert. Where was my sister?
A room appeared in the air before us. It was a sterile room, lacking the comforts beyond necessity.
“Ubi...ubi.. Anima mea turbata,” I whispered.
Avapeony strode into view. She still wore her brightest tunic and her best leggings and looked unharmed. Her long, auburn hair was unbound, disheveled, and the charcoal around her eyes was smeared, however. She was pacing the room, arms wrapped about herself for comfort. Kes, her fammie, hung limply next to her shoulder. She was no doubt exhausted by the battle and resultant abduction and could provide Avapeony with little comfort.
The image began to fade but was overlapped by a map leading from Witta lands into the Brinc village. As expected, Avapeony was being held at the large, white citadel in the center of the village square.
“We’ll never get in,” Yewsy breathed. “How can we get in there? We don’t even look like them anymore. We’ll stand out...they may even kill us with those...those machine thingies they carry. No. No, we can’t, Cleome!”
Mint looked from her sister to me, awaiting my response. I studied her sweetness, her innocence. What could I say? I knew what had to be done.
“Leaving the center of the circle,” I said to Yewsy, making the exit gesture for the Lares. I stepped over the salt and moved toward the door. At the portal, I paused and looked back. I wanted to burn an image of the two of them in my mind.
After leaving the Straw cottage, I followed the well-worn, tree-bordered path from their join to Widdershin join. Seeing the deserted, desecrated cottage again filled me with fear and sadness, and I could feel Afton respond in kind.
“Oh, Afton! What have they done?” I wailed.
Afton brought forth my mother’s happy, loving visage and showed it to me, seeking to soothe my grief. It did, but only momentarily. I shook Afton off and approached the gaping doorway. Pigeons had come in, and a fawn, but I paid them no mind. Instead, I moved through the home, righting what I could. Fetching scattered items from the floor, I worked to reset the worktable. Several candles were broken, some vials shattered. There was primrose oil, though, and sandalwood. I used these for a protection working, drawing the runes upon our most powerful waxen image. I sent it to Avapeony but also marked it for myself. I had a feeling I would need whatever defense I could generate.
Leaving the working to burn down into action, I went into my cell and sorted through the mess Signe’s men had made of my clothing. I found my cloak, an extra pair of leggings, two tunic tops, and my old, beaten-up felt hat. I placed the hat on my head, ignoring Afton’s protests, and pushed the clothing into a cloth pack. My daggers had remained undisturbed under a stack of coverings, so
I added them. I found there my wood-bound grimoire, as well, which contained all my lengthy magic lessons. Holding it grounded me.
I thought of my mother’s book and raced back to the worktable to find it. Panic set in when it wasn’t immediately visible, but Afton finally sensed it off to one side. Tossed rudely against one of the timber walls, the grimoire now lay twisted at the foot of that wall. I went to it and gingerly straightened the spine and the pressed paper within. Mother’s book was bigger than mine, of course, and would be a challenge to carry. But I couldn’t leave it. I could leave mine behind, of course, and carry hers, but mine had been a gift from Mother and her sister Mothers to celebrate my first moon working. It was very special to me, and I did not wish to part from it. I sighed and stuffed both into my bag. Perhaps I could glean some information from Mother’s book during my long, solitary journey to the Brinc lands.
I stood in the center of the common room. Any journey requires a path bag so I began compiling mine. I grabbed my favorite pouch from the wall pegs and moved to the worktable. I selected a handful of candle stubs, a small vial of energy oil, tinder sticks, a sage bundle, and a horn cup for drinking as well as mixing. I searched until I found carnelian for fire, a small feather for air, a shell for water and a stone for earth. I took a holey stone and a pointy stone for the deities and an ouanga bag that was still empty. I filled it with salt and pulled the cinch tight.
What else? I studied the disheveled worktable, my left hand gathering a small sack of rolled incense. My right hand instinctively went for acorns although I had no idea why I would need them. It was unlikely I would need to engender a storm in the deep forest.
I turned away then felt myself whirled back around. Something was nudging Afton and he wouldn’t allow me to leave.
“What?” I snapped, not even trying to hide my irritation.
He showed me several long, beaded necklaces, an aventurine stone and a peridot. Of course, pocket magic and healing stones. Always necessary.
