Both men wrestled the heavy chains and locks, heaving them to one side with a series of resounding clangs so the door could freely swing open.
When the way was clear, Myrtle handed me the Jar of Prometheus. I opened my pack to stow the artifact. “Is there anything else we need to know about how to use this thing?” I asked.
“No,” Myrtle said. “Recite the unlocking spell I gave you and expose the core in fractional stages. Open your mind to the Mother Oak, and she will tell you when the cold begins to recede.”
I’d already decided that warming up the Mother Tree was going to be the easy part of this trip. Actually getting to her was what had me worried.
At Myrtle’s signal, we all shouldered our gear and stood in a loose line in front of the door.
“Any idea what we’re going to run into first?” Tori asked.
“The Moss Forest,” Myrtle said. “A green space of lush beauty. The door will open onto a smooth path. Walk it until you are approached by the Golem. They will appear when they sense your presence and put their test before you.”
I didn’t want to ask, but I had to know. “What happens if we fail? I mean immediately. Do we just get zapped back here or something?”
“You will be forced to return to the fairy mound,” she said. “You will find the door open and waiting for you. Though you will see nothing but darkness, step through. I will sense your presence and come for you.”
“And the other part?” I asked, reluctant to even say the words.
Myrtle put her hand on my arm. “Should you fail, you will immediately understand the consequences,” she said. “The loss will strike through your heart like the blade of a knife. Awenasa wrote that she did not wish to live when that knowledge infused her being, but no matter what happens, Jinx, you must live, and you must return. Do you understand?”
Nodding numbly, I said, “Yes, I understand.”
Myrtle stepped away and began the spell to open the doorway. Tori caught my eye. “No hill for a climber, kiddo,” she said. “Maybe the munchkins will be waiting for us.”
Beside her, Lucas muttered, “Those munchkins always annoyed the hell out of me. Squeaky little voices and bad hairdos.”
Okay, I might be suspicious that he was a tree-witch-hopping playboy, but it’s hard to stay mad at a man who likes The Wizard of Oz, especially when he sounded as scared and nervous as I felt.
On the other side of me, Chase stared straight ahead, his jaw set in a rigid line that told me he was none too happy either. Only Greer seemed relaxed, but then she had entered the Middle Realm before.
As Myrtle’s voice rose, the lyrical passages of the incantation took physical form, the words hanging suspended in the air before us. The dips and swirls of the individual letters interlocked until the lines formed into a great hand. When the final stanza fell from Myrtle’s lips, the fingers grasped the rusty handle and drew the heavy door open an inch at a time on protesting hinges.
A shaft of light appeared around the edges of the wood, growing wider and brighter as the opening broadened. Shielding my eyes against the glare, I began to discern rolling hillocks covered in soft moss. Gnarled trees draped in curtains of verdant green tendrils dotted the landscape. As Myrtle had promised, a gentle, graded path wound off toward the horizon where the first rays of the rising sun turned the sky orange and violet.
“Go quickly,” Myrtle said. “Use the dawn to your advantage with the Golem.”
I wanted to say something profound, but all I could do was nod. My first step faltered, but then I squared my shoulders and walked with confidence into the unknown. The others fell in behind me. There was no sensation of moving from one reality to another, but when I looked back, I saw nothing but blackness where the fairy mound and Myrtle should have been.
Just as slowly as it had opened, the doorway creaked shut, leaving us standing in the Middle Realm. Right up to the second when the lock clicked, I fought the urge to dive back through, but then Tori, who was watching me, went for the obvious line.
“Toto,” she wisecracked, “I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore.”
“I know,” I said, looking over her shoulder, “and I’m pretty sure they’re not with the Lollipop Guild.”
34
Physically, the Golem occupied that place where the Pillsbury Doughboy meets an Ewok, and they give birth to a gingerbread man — made of dirt. Silhouetted against the rising sun, the creatures cast long shadows as they shuffled toward us leaving muddy trails on the damp moss. I tried not to think about how much the dark smears looked liked blood.
The Golem’s ominous approach seemed incongruous with both their size and the quiet setting. There were seven of the creatures, and none of them could have been taller than four feet. They moved across a landscape that rose and fell like ocean waves. The moss tendrils draping the trees swayed softly in the morning breeze, and I could hear birds singing high in the branches.
When they were roughly three yards away, the group stopped, and a single Golem stepped forward. I assumed he was their leader, but something about the way he planted his feet reminded me of a pugnacious little boy. The stance struck me as oddly endearing.
“Daughter of Knasgowa,” he demanded in a thick, raspy voice, “how dare you and your minions enter the land of the Golem after Awenasa’s insult?”
The way he said it, the incident might have happened only the day before. Myrtle told me time runs erratically in the Middle Realm. For all I knew, the Golem, in their perception, might have experienced the encounter with my ancestor much more recently than 200 years ago.
That certainly would have explained the outrage in the leader’s tone — either that or the Golem were great at holding ancient grudges.
“Forgive me,” I said, adopting the formal, respectful speech Myrtle suggested. “We have pressing business with Gwydion and his men at the trunk of the Mother Oak. We humbly ask to pass through the Land of the Golem in peace.”
That should have touched off the first question in the test everyone had been freaking out about, but to my shock, the creature said simply, “No.”
Myrtle and I hadn’t gone over a game plan for an outright refusal.
“That’s not how this works,” I blurted out. “You’re supposed to test me so we can pass through your land.”
The Golem planted his fists on what I assumed were his hips and gave me an evil grin worthy of that creepy Chucky doll from the movies.
“You,” he said, “do not tell us what to do.”
Beside me, Tori muttered, “Now what?”
Good question. “Guys,” I said, “any suggestions?”
Lucas, who was standing to my left said, “How about we just keep walking? It’s not like they’re big enough to fight us.”
Famous last words.
The Golem leader’s eyes glowed like coals in his sooty face. “Insolent elf,” he spat. “We do not have to fight you; we will take from each of you that which you love most. If you follow the witch, then you may share the witch’s pain.”
Escalation. Never a great negotiation tool.
“Okay, okay,” I said, “everybody just calm down. We have no intention of charging across your land. Forgive me if I questioned your authority. What can we do to be granted permission to travel through your forest?”
“Nothing,” he spat. “We do not deal with Fae scum.”
Arguing with him clearly wasn’t going to work, and something about his manner bothered me. Nobody is that angry without good reason.
Among the papers in the satchel Mom gave me, I found a leather notebook that belonged to my grandmother. In it, she copied out quotations and passages from books that must have meant something to her.
When I showed it to Beau, he said, “This is a commonplace book. People used them as a way to compile and ponder the knowledge they gained from their reading and other scholarly pursuits. I, myself, keep one to this day.”
On the first page of her book, Grandma transcribed, “Be kind, for ev
eryone you meet is fighting a hard battle. - Ian Maclaren.”
The phrase reminded me of the advice an elderly waitress gave me the first day I worked at Tom’s diner. “When some old boy comes in here and snaps at you, honey,” she said, “don’t snap back. You don’t know who got to him before you did.”
I took the advice to heart, and it changed my life. The old man who complained that his eggs were runny even when the yolks were hard as a rock? He missed his wife’s cooking. She’d died the year before.
The old maid who demanded we trim the crusts off her sandwiches? She wasn’t being impossible; she longed for the social status she’d enjoyed in her youth when her father was one of the wealthiest men in the state.
Everybody has a story, and at some level every story involves pain. That had to be true for the Golem as well, otherwise, why would they be so determined to fight for no good reason? Maclaren was right, sometimes kindness is the only magic you need.
“What happened?” I asked softly. “Who hurt you and how can we help?”
All seven of the creatures gasped so loudly Tori and I both jumped. The leader took a faltering step toward me, then stopped. Summoning what I now understood was false bravado, he barked, “Come closer, witch. I would speak with you.”
I crossed to stand in front of him and then went down on one knee so I could look into his strange red eyes.
“What did you say to me?” he asked, sounding completely shocked.
“I asked who hurt you,” I said. “All of you. You can’t have started out hating the world this way.”
“No one who has entered our realm from yours has ever asked us such a thing,” the Golem leader said.
Melodious sweetness replaced the previous harshness of his voice, tinged with something lonely and inconsolable.
“The people from your world ripped away the heart of this land centuries ago,” he told me mournfully. “They left us as we are now, without the One Light. If you can return to us that which was taken, you may pass unharmed.”
My first impulse was to give him a big hug and tell him I’d fix everything — never mind that I had zero idea how to pull off the miracle he wanted.
Instead, I said, “May I talk with my friends so we can figure out how to do that?”
“Yes,” the Golem said, “you have treated us with courtesy. We will respond in kind.”
When I stood up and turned back toward the group, the expression on Lucas’ face told me he couldn’t believe I was trying to psychoanalyze a metaphysical mud man with anger issues.
I always wondered what football players talk about in the huddle. Now I was convening one of my own, but as we gathered in a tight circle to talk, I realized the Golem weren’t our only problems.
Chase looked awful. His face had no color, and from the rigid lines of his body, I thought he might be in pain. Laying my hand on his arm, I said, “Hey, what’s wrong?”
Then he looked at me — with the glowing amber eyes of a cat.
“My body wants to shift,” he said tightly. “I’m trying to control it.”
Shapeshifters aren’t like werewolves in horror movies. They don’t transform against their will on the full moon or at any other time, for that matter, nor do they become mindless beasts after the change.
“Has this ever happened to you before?” I asked.
“No,” he said, “it’s this place. Can’t you feel the weight of it pressing down on you?”
That’s the trouble with questions. They tend to lead to answers — not necessarily the ones you want.
“I can,” Greer said, in an equally strained voice.
Before I even turned my head, I knew we had double trouble. Her green eyes weren’t just alight with the inner fire that animates her magic, they burned with something wild and insatiable. An aura of power rippled around her body, fighting to be set free.
“Let me guess,” I said. “Hunger pangs?”
She nodded, fixing me with the primal, feral gaze of a hunter. “Do not be afraid,” she said. “I will not allow it to overcome me. I have had many centuries to practice self-management.”
“But do you need to feed?” I asked.
The baobhan sith shook her head. “No,” she said. “I attended to that requirement before I came to Shevington for the holidays. That was only five days ago.”
Five days? How was that even possible? With all the complications we’d faced since the Christmas celebration seemed nothing but a dim memory.
“Okay,” I said, “I know this isn’t what we prepared for, but I really don’t believe the Golem want to hurt anyone. I think they’re reacting to having been hurt. Any ideas on how to give these guys back their One Light?”
Lucas scrubbed at his face with one hand, pushing his fedora higher on his head in the process. “Isn’t merging the lights of the Golem supposed to be the point of the test you were to take?”
“Yes,” I said, “according to what Awenasa wrote in her journal.”
“Then,” he said, “the One Light has to be that beam. Won’t a prism do that?”
Tori shook her head. “No, a prism breaks up light so you can see the individual colors of the spectrum.”
Never one to be slowed down by science, Lucas said reasonably, “So what happens if you run it through backward?”
Tori stared at him. I could see the wheels in her mind turning at top speed. Finally, she snapped her fingers and said, “Newton!”
“As in Sir Isaac?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said. “When he was studying at Cambridge in the 17th century, he figured out how to break light into the visible spectrum with a prism. Then, he took a second prism, turned it upside down, and merged the spectrum back into white light.”
“So you agree with Lucas about the One Light?” I asked.
“It makes sense,” she said. “There are seven colors in the spectrum, and we’re dealing with seven Golem. When you ticked off the leader, his eyes glowed red. What if the others each represent a color?”
“You’re saying we need a prism so they can look at it with their laser eyes or something?” I said.
Tori shrugged. “Anybody else have a better idea?”
“That’s not the important question,” I replied. “More to the point, does anybody have a prism?”
In my hand, Dílestos began to vibrate. The In Between seemed to be heightening all of our senses because the others picked up on it as well.
“The crystal atop the staff,” Greer said, “could it not act as a prism?”
“I can’t give Dílestos to the Golem,” I protested, “it’s a living branch of the Mother Tree.”
In my mind, the voice of the staff rose clear and resonant. “It is not I who must remain with the Golem, but that which I have guarded these many years.”
Tori, who was watching me closely, said, “It’s talking to you, isn’t it?”
Nodding, I put my hand on the hunk of crystal embedded in the top of the staff. At my touch, the four gnarled fingers of wood that had held it in place opened like the petals of a flower, allowing me to remove the stone before they wove themselves together again in an intricate Celtic knot.
“The Mother Tree strikes again,” Lucas grinned.
Turning back to the Golem, I drew in a deep breath and held out the quartz. “I don’t want to lie to you,” I said. “I’m not sure we can give you back what was taken from you, but we offer this in its place.”
The Golem leader cocked his head to one side, the red light returning to his eyes. “Put it on the ground before me,” he ordered.
I did as he asked and then stepped back with the others. As we watched, the Golem formed a ring around the crystal. The leader reached forward and put his hand on the stone, then nodded to his nearest companion. The second Golem’s eyes turned orange, and he put his hand on top of the leader’s — and so it went from one to the next — yellow, green, blue, indigo, and finally, violet.
As the last Golem’s hand came to rest on those of his comp
anions’ a shaft of white light shot up out of the quartz. I threw my hands up to shield my eyes just as the Golem exploded into a cloud of dust. When it settled, a single figure stood before us with skin the color of coffee and eyes like jeweled facets.
“Daughter of Knasgowa,” he said, “with the impulse of your heart, you have repaired the broken nature of my being. I am the Golem, made of the earth of this place and entrusted with the white light of creation to guard this entrance to the Middle Realm and the way to the chasm that lies beyond. From this day forward, you may pass through my land in perfect peace.”
Don’t get me wrong. I was more than happy with the answer, but I still had to ask.
“That’s it?” I said. “All this fear about the curse of the Golem and all you needed was for someone to ask what you needed?”
The Golem threw back his head and laughed, a sound filled with such pure joy, I found myself wanting to laugh with him.
“Do not underestimate the power of authentic concern,” he said. “The crystal was but the tool. Your heart was the catalyst. Of all who came before and failed, none did what you have done this day. You asked a question born of earnest concern for another living creature. You, Jinx Hamilton, saw beyond the urge to fight and embraced the first principle of love — to heal. Without that, the crystal you laid before my severed parts would have been nothing but a cold piece of stone.”
As we gathered up our packs to continue our journey, Greer caught hold of my arm. The inner battle for control still raged in those haunting green eyes.
“Remember?” she said. “The Grail knight? This day you asked an innocent question from the impulse of your own unspoiled heart. You have won the right to the Siege Perilous.”
35
Many days would pass before I had the luxury of looking up that phrase. Merlin held one seat open at the Round Table — the Siege Perilous — to be occupied by the knight who found the Holy Grail.
The Amulet of Caorunn (A Jinx Hamilton Mystery Book 7) Page 24
