Page 26 of The Mage’s Rake (Catkin Trilogy #2)

Alan

“ I don’t like this.”

Aileen wasn’t happy. From the way she stood by the fire, arms folded and blue eyes glaring at me, I could tell that the healer was far from happy. Not that I was in the highest of spirits either.

Waking at the crack of dawn to crawl out of a warm bed and brave the chilly elements was far from ideal, even if it was in service of saving the one I loved.

I hated the fact that I didn’t tell Hugh the truth, that I would be attempting this on my own.

If I allowed myself a moment’s pause, I would have to admit to myself that I was doubtful…

that I was hesitant, even frightened. Still, I refused to allow wallow and focused on the task at hand.

I was not about to lose my nerve, regardless of my sense of foreboding—or Aileen’s.

When I had entered Aileen’s outer room, I had hoped she was still sleeping, but I had found the elder molly wide awake.

Some small accident with one of the Munni guards, apparently.

Everyone was in high alert after the attack on Landis, and another scuffle with ruffians by one of the city guards had left a guard with stitches.

Aileen wasn’t in the best of moods, therefore, and neither was I.

We gazed at each other warily across the small room as I packed the few supplies I required alongside everything else I had prepared earlier.

“I am aware,” I said as I ruffled through her stores of potions to grab a few warming tinctures.

“Even Seeresses would have a second think afore attempting a summoning.”

“I know.”

“Fuddy-duddies in the Tower have no idea of what’s what, I tell you,” Aileen continued. “Earth magic is best left for the few who have the connection.”

“Even so…” My fingers hesitated on the clasp of my satchel as I looked up to meet her concerned gaze. “I have to do this, Aileen. For him.”

“For him? Or for you?”

I winced and shook my head.

“I can’t just sit back. Nyria assured me, but… I need to do this. Just in case.”

“You should trust the goddess, Alan. She’d know what’s what.”

“I tried. I just… I just can’t,” I admitted. “It’s eating away at me, Aileen. I can’t rest a single day longer while Hugh’s life force dwindles away.”

“Dwindles…” Aileen snorted, but even she paused thoughtfully.

Like me, she could see the dimming of Hugh’s energy.

At this rate, the life light of Hugh would be snuffed out entirely.

That would be the day I would lose my lover to Ziran, the God of Death.

I was not about to let that happen. If that meant that I had to reach out to the primordial power of the cosmos, so be it.

At the very least, I might gain another audience with Nyria. I wasn’t afraid.

But I was. Perhaps that was what Aileen sensed.

We both knew that what I would attempt had its risks.

Those who failed to channel the powers of the gods successfully would end up burned-out husks, senseless and devoid of reason at best, dead at worst. The few who successfully pulled themselves away from the brink of madness achieved great things, but the cost of failure could only counterbalance the power gained.

“And you’ll do it at the Standing Stones?” she asked.

I nodded as I pulled my second cloak about me and began to pin the hood up.

“Yes. It’s not so far off,” I said, “and it has the strongest link. If anyone were to succeed, it would be there.”

“Hm.” Aileen shook her head and jabbed her longest ladle into the potion closest to her. “I don’t like it.”

“As you have noted,” I said dryly.

“Tell me that you will take one of the guards with you at least,” Aileen said.

I shook my head. “This is best done alone. I wouldn’t wish anyone to be caught up in this. Besides, explaining to someone the possible chances of stepping in is too difficult. If I was to bring anyone, it would be you.”

The frown on Aileen’s face deepened as though carved there by stone.

She had not offered to join me, but of everyone in the castle, she was the one I could rely on to keep back as one ought and only step in at the right time.

On the other hand, tampering with this magick was not something Aileen felt capable of handling.

She was a capable medic, but little else.

“Well, be careful,” Aileen finally said. “I heard from Rolf that there’s been some activity in the forest. More than usual. Probably due to the failed assassination, gods curse ’em.”

“I’ll keep an eye out,” I promised.

“If you end up in a ditch afore you get there…”

“I’ll be a shadow,” I reiterated. “No one sane is going to be up and about at this ungodly hour in this cold. Tonight is Wintermas Eve—“

“Exactly,” Aileen interrupted with a glare. “Imagine somethin’ happenin’ to you the night before Wintermas!”

“I should be fine.”

My words fell flat. A long silence ensued. I heaved the satchel strap over my head, securing it at my waist. Aileen glared at her small cauldron and stirred the potion with a bit more vehemence than usual.

“Aileen…” I stopped and then sighed. “If anything does happen… bad, I mean… you’ll tell him…?” I stopped and shook my head. “Never mind. It’s silly.”

“I’ll tell him that you’re a daft duck, Alan Carwick, and a romantic dimwit to boot.

” Aileen flung down her ladle and picked up a thick blue scarf that she’d rolled up on the table.

“This was to be for one of the Munni boys, but it’ll do for you.

” She sniffed and batted her eyes as she tied the thick scarf around my cloak, half-obscuring my vision.

My glasses began to steam up instantly. “You take care, Alan. Promise this old molly?”

“I will.”

Thanks to heavy snowfall the night before, the roads were filled with a freshly laid blanket of white.

As far as I could see, the world was a blank canvas.

The horizon was a smudge of grey and black—dingy forest, empty plains of grey-white, and the dark line of the Rynduin.

In this chilly world, the houses of the rich and poor alike hunkered down against the wind that nipped at any hint of skin that it could find—your nose and lips and cheekbones.

It tugged on my cloak, rattled the windows, and flicked the bannerets of Rimefrost.

As far as I could see from the back of my mare, there was no sign of any catkin stirring.

The day before Wintermas would be bustling, but right now, at the crack of dawn, when the gray was just barely flushed with pink, few kinfolk ventured out.

This was good. It meant the roads were less jammed with wagons caught in the snow.

I was able to make my way down to the Standing Stones of Averlee easily.

The Standing Stones, a mound topped by ancient menhir, was a sacred location on the other side of the Rynduin which tumbled past Rimefrost’s eastern walls.

In the summer of last year, Landis had nearly wedded Princess Esteria at the Standing Stones of Averlee.

An important site for ancient rituals and important ceremonies, this place was frequented often by Seeresses and mages.

Though usually well-guarded and tended, the winter elements had emptied this stretch of countryside.

This morning, the grey stones pierced the sky alone.

The monoliths were deeply buried in snow, and the pavement down to the underground catacombs was long lost to snow.

Only those who knew the back entrance to the mound would know the way.

In the shadows of the morning, I slipped around the hill and found my way to the relative shelter of the cold underground chamber.

As I stood at the door, I hesitated. Was someone out there? I felt a prickle on the back of my neck, as though I was being watched, but when I turned, I only saw trees and shifting shadows on the snow.

A long time ago, it was said ancient catkin mages and seeresses had been laid to rest here.

They had died long ago in a great battle, defending the Well of the Goddesses.

Centuries passed, and only a few bones remained, interred with much dignity and given homage with diligently restored engravings and sculpted stone tombs.

Still, the stories lived on in one form or another. The Well had been protected.

The White Tower called it the Well, but it was more like an underground spring that bubbled up from the rock. It was said that its roots were deep within the soil beneath, from the heart of the world, from the soul of Gaia herself.

I had visited this place before, and once again, I was filled with awe at the sight of the quiet still waters surrounded by artfully arranged miniature menhirs and a carved stone enclosure.

On the square paving leading up to the Well, I laid out my supplies: ladle, grimoire, focusing crystal, crushed herbs, Hugh’s items, chalk, tinder box, kindling, and incense.

Ever since the failed ritual night, I had envisioned the steps I would take.

I could recite the ritual easily, memorized from rereading my grimoire endlessly.

As if guided by another’s hand, I moved through the motions.

It was as though I had done this before: the drawing of the sigils, the pouring of Hugh’s blood, the lighting of the fire in the sacred stone altar, and the burning of Hugh’s hair, the herbs, and incense at the prescribed time.

Finishing the final chant, I removed the last robe until I stood in nothing but my thinnest undergarments and a white cotton shift.

Seating myself cross-legged, I forced myself to relax and finish the final rites, channeling the white power of my energies as I took the final step—sipping the water I had drawn from the Well.

In my left hand, my energies focused on my crystal, burning through me a blazing path that led into the darkness.

I closed my eyes and thought of Hugh. I recalled the sparkle of his golden-brown eyes.

The light husky tenor of his laugh. The feel of his arms around me.

His scent. His lips, lowering towards me.

Whatever became of me, I knew that I would regret not taking this chance all of my life should something happen to him.

I was taking a risk, yes, but Hugh was worth it. Not just for me, but for Sumarene.

“Hugh,” I whispered.

I plunged into the dark, chasing the light.

As I pursued it, I became more and more aware that I was not alone.

Not anymore. I could sense it, almost see it—a beautiful garden filled with glorious fruits and scents.

A garden like no other on the earth. And there, a great presence seemed to surround me.

A warmth and a soft voice. Another one. And another.

“The little one has come before you, sister mine,” a clear, melodic voice spoke.

A dark-haired, pale-skinned Munni sat beside a blonde-haired, tan Sunna maiden. The two catkin flicked their tails coquettishly as they surveyed me. Their eyes, green and blue both, seemed to stare right through me.

“It is the one we spoke of, Meryn,” said the gold-haired Sunna goddess.

Nyria. I stood there, tongue-tied. I had no words to say to either of them. I had hoped to call on Gaia herself, but it was clear that I would have to pass Nyria and Meryn, her daughters, first.

“It is time,” Nyria said solemnly, “is it not, little one?”

“Time?” I blurted out, even as the fur on my ears and tail rose in fright. “Is it? I-I wanted to speak with Gaia—“

“I know.” Nyria rose.

Within the blink of an eye, she stood before me, her gaze fixed on mine. I froze, unable to move away even as her fingers rose to graze my chin and brush against my cheek, much as a mother might caress her child.

“Did I not tell you to have faith and bide the hour?”

Tears sprang up in my eyes, and my gaze fell to glare at my feet.

“He’s dying. I can’t—“

“His love is deep, sister mine,” Meryn said softly, “and he is as much my child as he is yours.”

In a twinkling, Meryn stood at my side. Her hand rested in comfort on my shoulder and then traveled down to take my hand in hers.

“You ought not tease him so, especially with such cryptic words.”

Nyria sighed.

“The little one would understand if he but listened.”

“Sometimes words lose meaning when the heart is at stake,” Meryn reminded her. “Their lives are short… and passions cloud the vision.”

“I tried to be patient,” I whispered. My tail sagged with dejection. “Please punish me… and not him!”

“Punish?” Nyria shook her head. “Nay, I cannot crush the spirit of one so gallant and passionate. When the time comes, your beloved will find freedom from the curse.” Nyria nudged at my chin, forcing me to meet her gentle gaze.

“He will find freedom in the bonds of love that he has woven for you. Those words will come to him, and that will set him free.”

“Or Gaia could just—“

Meryn now also stood before me. Her finger rose to tap my lips, silencing me.

“Listen to her, little one. Close your eyes… and listen.”

Following her encouragement, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

The third presence was there in the garden.

I inhaled sharply as I realized. The presence was the garden itself, the entire earth, the cosmos.

It was Gaia—warm and mothering. That which faltered, that which faded, that which passed only returned to her arms. Nothing was ever truly gone.

I sank further and further into her arms. Within me, without me, there was no difference. As I sank deeper and deeper into the heart of the earth, I could feel myself becoming nothing and everything all at once. I could hear a voice calling out to me faintly.

“There!” Nyria’s voice resounded.

“He comes, little one,” Meryn’s voice faded as the garden receded into white.

The darkness eased to gray as I chased the voice calling my name.

“Alaaan! Gods! Alan!”