Eolyn (9 page)

Eolyn blinked back tears. She knew Ghemena was right, but it did not lessen her heartache. “What if Messenger doesn’t appear? What if all my training is for naught? What if I just sent away my only friend in the whole world for a dream that will never come true?”

The old maga leaned back in her chair. The lines around her gray eyes softened. “I have taught many students, Eolyn, so I can say that if the Gods refuse your petition, it is not because you are unworthy. If Dragon does not appear, it is because the tradition of the magas must come to an end, for reasons neither you nor I can hope understand. All that is left for us to do on this night is to prepare ourselves to accept their decision, whatever it may be, with faith and humility.”

C
hapter Eleven

Eolyn
woke before dawn.
Wrapping herself in a worn red cloak, she accepted Ghemena’s many blessings and wandered deep into the sun-flecked woods. The voices of trees danced on the wind. Animals scattered at her approach. Solitude followed her like a living presence.

At midday, Lynx melted out of the shadows not more than ten paces in front of her. The wild cat stretched broad furry paws against the ground and sat on her haunches. She studied Eolyn with steady amber eyes. Then she turned and retreated into the forest.

Understanding the wordless invitation, Eolyn followed.

Lynx’s steps fell silent against the leaf litter. Her musk trailed behind her in a soothing cloud. When they reached the foot of Lynx’s ridge, the cat rolled onto her back and stretched her limbs, exposing the downy white of her belly. She dedicated several minutes to meticulously cleaning her paws before rising and disappearing like a ghost in the underbrush, leaving Eolyn to climb alone.

Although Eolyn had explored the base of Lynx’s ridge on countless occasions, she had never approached the lair itself. The ascent proved arduous. It took the rest of the day to find the cave nestled on the south side of the rocky outcrop. With aching limbs, Eolyn crawled into the small space, sat down, and wiped the sweat from her brow.

Lynx’s cave was dry and well ventilated. On the smooth dirt floor, Lynx had left fragrant grass and soft ferns to prepare a bed. The aroma of stone and earth reminded Eolyn of Achim.

I wonder what his fast was like.

She had not thought to ask him during their meeting by the river, but then she had not thought about much of anything except the singular power of that kiss.

Did his coven give him a banquet of friendship and transition? Did Tzeremond, like Ghemena, send his student off with affection?

Even though Achim studied in the company of a full order, Eolyn could not shake the suspicion that his initiation had been a solitary experience.

At sunset, Eolyn settled at the cave entrance to watch the stars ignite against a deep purple sky. The forest spread in an undulating carpet below. The fragrance of pine and oak rose from its canopy. Rhythmic sounds filled the night: the scratchy chirp of crickets, bell-like tones of dink frogs, and occasional hoots from a pygmy owl. The unbounded space brought on a deep sense of tranquility.

When sleep called, Eolyn crawled back into the lair. Strange and vivid dreams greeted her. She saw ancient people drift through the forest and observed fantastic animals that no longer existed. She witnessed the first sacred fire invoked by Aithne and Caradoc, and watched the path of their flight as Thunder pursued the lovers into the mountains.

She found herself transported to battlefields where Caedmon and his mage warriors defeated the People of Thunder. Then she followed their sacred tradition as it flowed generation past generation into the life of her own mother, Kaie.

Eolyn stood by the initiate Kaie as she accepted the staff of High Magic. She accompanied the knight Kaie into war against metal-clad opponents. She watched the mother Kaie share the arts of Simple Magic with her daughter in the South Woods, and she comforted the prisoner Kaie as she faded toward the Afterlife on a cold stone floor, her face bloodied and her limbs shattered.

In the wake of Kaie’s death, an ebony haired witch appeared. With tapered fingers, she gathered a thousand broken threads of friendship left by the war and wove them into a shimmering web that stretched from one end of the kingdom to another.

You are not the one I sought, little Eolyn
, she whispered,
but you are the one who was found. The Gods have spoken. Destiny has revealed its hand. If you choose the path of High Magic, you are bound to restore our tradition to Moisehén, to renew the heritage of your sisters. If you refuse this oath, then you cannot accept the gift of Dragon.

Eolyn awoke with a start, muscles stiff and cheeks wet with tears. When she emerged from the cave, dawn was spreading its pale light along the misty horizon. A dense fog had settled, leaving the rocky ridge floating in a soft sea of white. Ribbons of salmon and pale blue heralded the arrival of the sun. As the bright orb peeked over the edge of the world, the tips of the fog bank ignited in misty gold.

Dragon
, Ghemena had told Eolyn,
can assume the form of any creature that walks the earth. The Initiate must therefore open her mind to the greatness of all beings, lest she fail to hear Messenger’s voice in the sinuous movement of a millipede or in the fearsome roar of an angry bear.

Eolyn scanned the ridge, but detected no movement across its rocky face. She searched for tiny creatures among the rough crevices, but neither spider nor beetle nor lizard appeared.

The forest was strangely quiet. Even the birds refrained from their dawn chorus.

Time passed. The orange sun drifted upward through the fog bank. The jagged stones warmed, and the frost dissipated.

With a sinking heart, Eolyn wondered if she had misunderstood Lynx. Perhaps she was not meant to come here. Perhaps Dragon waited somewhere else.

Then a shadow passed over the rocks.

Eolyn straightened, uncertain whether the shifting light had played a trick on her eyes. The shadow passed again, sharper this time and unmistakable in form and meaning.

Incredulous, Eolyn turned toward the rising sun.

Dragon flew toward the ridge in her true form, a dark silhouette against the bright sky. Her flight was smooth and rhythmic. Her wings whipped the golden clouds beneath her. Sunlight reflected off her silver scales in brilliant and blinding colors. Three times she circled Eolyn. Then she lifted up over the rocks and prepared to land.

Eolyn stepped back, caught between wonder and fear. She breathed deep the crisp morning air in an effort to sooth her pounding heart.

Not a sound was heard nor a tremor felt as Dragon set her massive feet on the ground. Only the wind from her wings marked her arrival, blowing back the hood of Eolyn’s cloak.

Dragon’s translucent scales shone like fine cut crystal. The graceful movement of her long neck and undulating tail gave the impression of a sparkling river in constant motion. She folded her wings and set opaque silver eyes upon Eolyn.

Do not be afraid
. Dragon spoke in her quiet tongue.
The Gods who sent me look with favor upon your petition. Not since the time of Caedmon have they instructed me to appear in my true form, and before that not since the time of Aithne and Caradoc.

Eolyn stared at this wondrous creature, trying to grasp the magnitude of what was happening. On instinct, she went to her knees. Her words came in trembling starts. “I…I am not worthy of this honor.”

Dragon tilted her head. Amusement sparked inside those silver orbs.
That is precisely why you are judged worthy. You have embraced your gift with joy and humility. Now your journey brings the promise of a new era of magic.

“I don’t understand.”

Don’t you, Eolyn? Your sisters spoke to you in your dreams last night. Have you already forgotten their message?

Eolyn bowed her head and closed her eyes. The full weight of the burden she was about to accept settled heavy upon her shoulders. She steadied her pulse and focused on her connection with the earth.

“My gratitude to the Gods is unending,” she said quietly, repeating the invocation Ghemena had given her. “You gave me life while so many others met death. You gave me magic even as my sisters burned. I pray to you, break open my spirit, so that I may receive your instructions and see your will fulfilled.”

Dragon nodded.

Go to the Oldest Oak. She has prepared the branch from which your staff will be forged. You will find the branch at her feet, along with a feather from Midnight Owl. Bring these to me, together with a water crystal from River, and the sword given to you by your mage friend.

With a reverent bow, Eolyn took her leave. She gathered all four elements, finding them just as Dragon had indicated. On her way back to Lynx’s lair, she paused in the place where she kept Achim’s sword. Wrapping both hands around the hilt, she sang the incantation he had taught her and pulled the weapon from its resting place.

The sun hung low in the west when Eolyn returned to the ridge. The fog had long since burned off, and the scales of Dragon shimmered with copper and scarlet hues of evening.

Dragon accepted the branch from Eolyn and stripped it of leaves and bark. She placed it on the ground, positioned the water crystal at its tip, and laid Owl’s feather along the base.

The sword
, Dragon commanded.

Eolyn offered the blade. With a single blow against the rocks, Dragon smashed it into a thousand pieces.

Eolyn cried out in horror. “Achim’s sword!”

It is not his sword,
Dragon reprimanded.
It is yours, as it has been since the day he gave it to you. And it will serve you much better like this.

From the scattered shards, Dragon chose a single splinter and balanced it carefully along the midsection of the branch. Then she paused and raised her silver eyes to the setting sun.

You must pray to the Gods, for guidance and strength in this path you have chosen.

As Eolyn finished her incantations, Dragon ignited her fiery breath.

Eolyn watched in amazement, for the staff did not burn under the white flames but rather became pliable to Dragon’s touch. The winged serpent worked well into the night. She imprinted the feather at the base of the staff, drove the shard of Achim’s sword into its heart, and secured the crystallized quartz firmly to its head.

Although Eolyn intended to keep vigil with Dragon throughout the night, the rhythmic ebb and flow of the winged serpent’s movement lulled the initiate to sleep. When at last the young maga awoke, Dragon was but a shadow receding into the rising sun.

The new staff stood upright on the rocky ground.

Eolyn approached with caution and closed her hands over the magically cured oak. The smooth surface responded to her touch with a hum unlike any she had ever heard, beautiful and complex. When the morning light hit the union of wood and quartz, the image of Dragon in flight was revealed, etched into the heart of the river crystal.

Filled with sudden and intense joy, Eolyn lifted the staff from its resting place and bounded down the ridge toward her home.

Ghemena rose well before sunrise to prepare the sacred fire. She stacked dry branches of Beech, the guardian of ancient knowledge, Birch to provide balance, and Walnut to give power in times of transition. For kindling, Ghemena used twigs of Linden, the protector of Children’s Magic. Once she had laid the fuel, she settled down to wait. The sacred fire could not be ignited until Eolyn arrived.

Uncertainty plagued the old maga. Years ago, the Gods had granted Kedehen victory over the magas. Was it their will that the tradition of Aithne and Caradoc perish?

Today, she would know the answer. If the Gods rejected Eolyn’s petition, there would be no others. The craft Ghemena honored every day of her life would die with her, here in the South Woods.

Unable to sit still any longer, Ghemena left the cabin and moved to the edge of the garden.

The rising sun illuminated the trees in hues of gold. A fresh breeze brought aromas of spring flowers, new leaves, and wet loam. Songs of birds dominated the forest.

Ghemena tilted her head and strained to listen.

Her heart leapt when she heard Eolyn’s voice in the distance. The shouts rose in volume and excitement, until Eolyn burst from the forest and into the clearing.

“Ghemena!” she cried. “Look what Dragon has given me!”

Ghemena caught her breath. Eolyn held a staff fully formed her hands. The crystal head sparkled under the sun’s bright rays. Stunned, the maga started toward Eolyn as fast as her stiff limbs would allow. 

“Messenger appeared to me as Dragon!” Eolyn announced breathless when they reached each other. “Oh, Ghemena, she’s beautiful! Her flight is swift and silent, and she shines as if she were made of river pearls and water crystals. She forged my staff for me and accepted my solemn oath to bring women’s magic back to our people.”

Trembling, Ghemena laid her hands on the polished oak.

“What is this wondrous gift?” she murmured. “No staff has been forged by Dragon since the time of Caedmon, and before that since the time of Aithne and Caradoc.”

Eolyn laughed out loud. “The Gods have granted us their blessing, Ghemena. They have shown me the path, and given me leave to make it my own. They have promised they will be with me always.”

Ghemena closed her eyes, absorbing the staff’s complex and haunting melody. Dancing upon the surface of this song, Ghemena heard all the elements that had brought joy to Eolyn’s young life. Yet beneath that beauty lurked a more ominous mood. When she recognized it, Ghemena’s blood ran cold.

“I don’t understand.” Ghemena opened her eyes. Her voice shook. “I cannot teach you how to use this.”

“Dragon said you would know what to do,” Eolyn replied with a radiant smile. “She said the Gods would show you the way. When can we start? Can we start today?”