Avelynn: The Edge of Faith (12 page)

“No.”

“But if you were to guess, would there not be things you would do, or actions you would set in place to protect those you loved? Would you not try to lessen fate’s impact, were that even possible?” She added the last with a wry twist of her mouth.

“I suppose.”

“Then can you blame me for taking precautions, for doing what I could to try and protect you?”

Anger was doused as if dropped in a bucket of cold water; guilt replaced it. I opened my mouth to say I was sorry, but she waved it away.

“There can be no regrets in life, Avelynn. You do, and you move on. There is no looking back with remorse or guilt. Remember that.”

I brushed my foot back and forth. The cool grass tickled my toes. “Can you see specifics now? From your … unique perspective?”

“What would you like to know?”

The list was long. “The bones mentioned death and destruction. There is conflict in Wales. I will be thrust into the center of it. I understand and accept that, but I’m more worried about the warnings of love. I know they concern Alrik—”

“And you know this how, exactly?”

She was mocking me. Specifics indeed. I ignored her. “I just know.”

“Of course.”

“What I don’t know is what is to change. There’s something wrong, but I don’t understand.”

“What do you think will happen?

How could I explain a feeling? A mere taste, like the tingle on the tip of the tongue without a clear image of what the sensation represented. “I don’t know.”

She clicked her teeth in derision. “Nonsense. What does your heart tell you?”

I didn’t want to say my deepest fears aloud.

“Keeping them silent doesn’t negate their possibility.”

“I’m afraid I’m going to lose him.”

“I see a darkness—a great chasm spreading, driving you apart.”

My heart jolted, its pace catching up to the significance of her words. “Has it to do with Marared? Will Alrik be injured in the battle?”

“More than that I cannot say.”

“Can’t or won’t?” I wanted to yell. What on earth good was this visit if she couldn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know.

She smirked. “Stop asking me and search within for the answers.”

My gut twisted. “Marared.”

“Alrik has given you a choice. Will you take it?”

“To leave? Absolutely not.”

“Despite Marared’s threat?”

“I’m not leaving his side.”

“Then you have chosen to stay, ignoring the Ogham’s warnings.”

“Perhaps.” I eyed her warily. I thought of Marared’s claims to be able to use magic. If I stayed, could I fight fire with fire? Was that even possible?

“Anything is possible. But you must remember your higher calling. You are a high priestess now. Your power is a gift. It is your responsibility to serve the Goddess and her will.”

“What of Bertram’s letter?”

“You will do great and wonderful things, Avelynn—all in good time—provided you pass through the darkness and emerge on the other side. This ordeal will take you to the edge of faith. If the darkness succeeds …” She shrugged. “There will be suffering.”

“What have you seen?”

She laid a hand on my shoulder, rising. “No more than you.”

I stood. There was so much more than what she was telling me.

“I must go.”

“What of Edward? What of my dream—the three-headed beast? Was it a memory or a warning? Will I see you again?” I thought of my mother. Why hadn’t she come?

“Your mother is guiding Edward. As for the rest … only time will tell.” Her form wavered, turning fuzzy at the edges.

“No, wait, please …” I reached out to grab hold of her dress, to keep her there a moment longer, but my hands slipped through. I fell forward, my knees banging hard into the ground.

“Your guide will see you safely back. Goddess keep you, Avelynn.”

Then she was gone.

I ground my fingers into the earth. She had left me with more questions, more uncertainty. I wanted to tear out chunks of soil and throw it at the empty space where Muirgen had stood. I rested my forehead on the soft grass. My hands stretched overhead; my knees tucked beneath me. Great fat raindrops fell. The creek ran faster. The cloudless sky wept. I rolled onto my back, letting the patter of tears wash over me.

The raven blinked at me from the log. I didn’t want to move. It seemed to respect that, merely holding the space for my grief and frustration. The rain stopped, and the light darkened. It was time to go. The raven offered its wing. As soon as my fingers touched the soft, silken feathers, I became the raven, flying over the forest. My wings pumped, coasting above the world while the rainbow of flowers and forest stretched out before me. I followed the colors back home.

In a heartbeat, I stood on the beach, the sea behind me, the world dimming. A croak filled the void. The raven disappeared. I closed my eyes and reached my arms up. My face lifted to the moonless sky, and I fell forever backward, into the ocean, into the motionless sea. It pulled me under, bringing me back to the cave, back to my body, back to the cold, harsh promise of reality.

I groaned and groped around where I lay sprawled in the pitch dark on the floor of the cave. Cold rock met my palms. Had I fallen asleep? Had it all been a dream? I pushed myself onto hands and knees. The world tilted and swayed, my stomach dropping and flipping along with it. My teeth clenched, and I closed my eyes, counting my breaths as the nausea passed.

I trudged forward, hands fumbling in the dirt until they settled against the altar stone. After a few more uncertain and shaky steps, I made out the pile of firewood. My knee connected with a log, and it rolled out beneath me. I fell back. Pain stabbed through my tailbone. It lanced straight up my spine and careened into my skull, wrapping its pincers around my forehead. I winced. It felt like I’d drunk an entire cask of strong wine. Muirgen’s potion proved once again to be both powerful and intriguing. I fumbled with the ties on my satchel and retrieved my fire starter kit. I tried to coax the fire to light. The darkness both inside and out was so complete I couldn’t tell the difference between the hole in the ceiling and the pitch of the chamber. How long until dawn?

I managed to light the fire and grabbed one of the pine torches. Using the altar stone for support, I stood on quaking legs. My insides squirmed and roiled. I felt wrung out, my head cleaved in two. I trudged up the hill to the entrance of the cave. The hare started the moment my ambling footfalls came within earshot. I leaned against the stone entrance, breathing in gulps of fresh sea air. The waves thundered below, and the wind wailed as it whipped along the coast. The night was cool. I’d left my cloak with Alrik, assuming the bedroll would be warmth enough in the cave. I shivered and sat, resting my back against the curved wall. I drew my knees into my chest and watched, waiting for the first signs of dawn’s imminent arrival in the starless, overcast sky.

I could almost imagine I was still in that strange ethereal world with Muirgen, except here I felt the nip in the air and smelled the brine and damp of the ocean. Was that the Otherworld? Had I traveled to the threshold, crossing some sort of invisible line into the world of the unseen? Or was it all a figment of my imagination? I shook my head. Wherever I had gone, whatever that place was, Muirgen had seemed real. Her words pierced in their brutal honesty and prophecy.

I thought of the Ogham symbols,
Nuin
driving Alrik and me apart. Was Marared the darkness Muirgen spoke of? Or was there something more sinister at work? The beast in the dream took on new meaning. The creature had swallowed me whole, plunging me into a gaping abyss. I remembered the grit of dirt in my mouth. I had choked on it.

I studied the sky. It would soon be dawn. The altar stone was hungry for blood. The cavern pulsed, the air unsettled. The Mother, the ghosts of the ancients, the beings of the Otherworld, all swirled around me, intangible and gossamer. It seemed as if I could reach out and slip into their world or pull them into mine. But I was not about to do either.

Back inside the chamber, I decided it best to be consistent. I poured chalk from a cured bladder and marked a generous circle in the dirt around the room, including the fire within it. The altar stone, ominous and patient, loomed dead center. Once I initiated the circle and stood safely within its boundaries, I would be protected from the restless energy and spectral beings vying for a taste of the sacrifice.

I banked the fire until only a few hot coals glowed. I placed the cage on the broad surface of the altar. It was dark, but my eyes had adjusted enough to make out the walls surrounding me. Using them as my guide, I stayed inside the circle and glanced at the hole in the roof. The sky had a dark charcoal tinge, just enough light to be discernible. I gauged the time to be close enough to dawn to begin.

I raised my arms. “In the name of the one true Goddess, I cast this circle.”

I walked to the first aspect. “Aine, Northern Swan, weave your magic. Enlighten your daughter, release my burdens, and clear my mind. Gift me with wisdom and sight. Goddess, I welcome you.”

I shuffled a quarter turn around the circle. “Macha, Eastern Mare, ignite my passions and strengthen my faith; incite me to lead, and guide me in love. Gift me with righteousness and temperance. Goddess, I welcome you.”

I stopped at the halfway point. “Danu, Mother, Southern Boar, teach me humility—to honor without prejudice or judgement and forgive those who trespass against me. Gift me with compassion and abundance. Goddess, I welcome you.”

I moved to the last quarter of the circle. “Badb, Western Raven, shape-shifter, Sword and Shield, grant me your strength. Harden my will, guide me through the waters of transformation, and support my steps as I forge ahead down my path. Gift me your courage and perseverance.” I shuddered. The weight of each word settled on my shoulders. I would need her support in the months ahead. “Goddess, I welcome you.”

I placed kindling over top of the coals. In seconds, the tinder caught and roared to life. It crackled as it devoured the dried fungus and twigs. I set a few larger billets over the greedy flames and set my sax beside the cage, the blade’s deadly purpose obscured by the gloom. I grabbed the ring I’d found on the stairs and placed it on the altar, uncertain whether to wear it or gift it as an offering.

I reached into the cage, cajoling the spooked and trembling beast. I caressed its soft coat, murmuring soothing words until it relaxed in my arms. “Goddess, I beseech you. Hear my prayers. Watch over the people of Somerset. Benevolent Mother, munificent Loaf-Maker, enrich their fields and fatten their livestock. Fill their larders and line their shelves with abundance. Stock their sacks and barrels with plenty.”

The hare stirred. I stroked its fur and it settled. Why didn’t it struggle? Why didn’t it squirm and try to flee? Trust. It trusted me with its life. I held the balance, its fate in my hands. The Goddess had already decided the creature’s death the moment it had been snared. I felt a kinship with the animal. I was the hare. Ripples of consequence crashed and careened into a predestined shore. The Norns—the witches of fate—pulled and tugged the strings, cackling as they danced me into dangerous waters, heedless of my desires.

I had the sudden impulse to set the creature free. But as quickly as the impulse blossomed, fear replaced it. What if I didn’t sacrifice the hare? What if no blood wet the stone? Would my pleas for Somerset go unheard? Would it speed the course of devastating events in my future? Would it make them worse?

I held the beast tighter to my chest. “Protector, Battle-Axe, Death-Bringer, I beseech you. Keep Alrik under your mighty shield. Guide his sword; make his actions in battle strong and true. Stay the blade of dissolution. Keep him by my side. Safeguard his heart. Protect mine.”

Certainty spread like a plague in my chest. The longer we tarried in Wales, the wider the wedge would gape between us.

“Mother, advisor, nurturer, sustainer, I beseech you. Watch over and guide Edward. Help him understand; open his eyes and heart to forgiveness. Tell him I love him—that one day, I will come back for him.”

I thought of all the times the raven had appeared to me, letting me know that Alrik was near—that She, the Goddess, had not forsaken me. “Our pleas are but drops in the ocean. I understand you must balance the needs of a few against the desires of many. I am grateful for your eternal presence and unwavering love and support. Thank you for hearing my prayers and for attending this ceremony.”

Blades of violence were not permitted within the ritual space, but tonight, my sax would carry the sacrifice to the Goddess. I grabbed the knife from the altar stone. The iron glowed for a moment in the coals’ dim light. I took a deep breath and passed the knife cleanly across the hare’s throat. A jerk, then surrender, as the blood dripped onto the stone.

Death presented a constant face in our world. Everything was transient, yet we believed the illusion that we could hold onto it. Like the blood slipping through my fingers, I could neither hold onto this life nor protect the lives of those I loved. Despite my best intentions and efforts, all life came to an end. But I would not let the Norns determine every moment of my journey. I would tug the strings and choose the steps. I would chart my own course. I might not be able to alter the larger picture—every story had its ending—but I would not go willingly into complacency. Fate was not resolute.