Avelynn: The Edge of Faith (32 page)

The words were benign, but her delivery was not. My body stirred as her lips brushed my skin, light as a wisp of smoke.

Alrik watched our exchange with interest. “Perhaps I should stay for a while.”

“Nothing here for the likes of men.” Angharad smirked and brushed my shoulder as she moved to sit at the table.

I blushed.

A blond eyebrow raised and Alrik stalked closer. “Pity.”

I cleared my throat. “Out with you, now. Let me get this over and done with.”

The boy appeared at Alrik’s elbow. “At your leave, sir.”

Alrik pouted.

Angharad waved, her smile sweet and playful. “See you shortly.”

I pushed the door closed behind them.

Angharad laughed. “Your man is going to want your bed tonight.”

“Thanks to you.”

“It looks as though you’ve already been busy.” She studied the disheveled blankets.

The blush wouldn’t leave my cheeks. I tried distraction. “What have you brought me?”

She held up Marared’s broach. It was the silver boar’s head clasp I’d seen her wear in Dyfed. “Thought it best we knew for certain the possession was hers. It seemed like the best thing to ask for.”

“How ever did you get it?”

“Actually, Sigy provided it. She mentioned something about Marared not needing it where she was going. She offered up several crates of jewelry and possessions.”

“Too opulent for the monastery, I assume.”

Angharad sniggered. “I’ve also brought frankincense and myrrh and found strips of mace and sprigs of lavender.” She set a wrapped bundle on the table. “I don’t for a moment think they have magical properties, but they smell lovely.”

“Thank you. I might be able to use them in the ritual itself.” Seeing the herbs on the table reminded me of what had occurred earlier. “Did you have your maids set out wine and stew last night? There were two cups and bread trenchers on the table when I arrived.” I hadn’t touched the pottage on the hearth.

“I asked them to ready the bed linens for you, but I’d not thought of providing something from the kitchen.”

“That’s what I thought. There was another attempt on my life last night. This time Alrik’s fate was included in the plot.” I explained what had happened.

Angharad peered into the cauldron. “Given all that has transpired, I think you should dispose of this as well, before someone helps himself.”

“I agree.” I shuddered and removed the cauldron from the hearth, placing it on the table. “When we’re done, I’ll take it to the cesspit.”

“Are you ready?” Angharad asked.

I referenced my mental tally. “I still need ink, bread, and a small brass cauldron.”

“Consider it done. Anything else?”

“No, I think that’s all. While you collect that, I’ll prepare the room.”

After she left, I swept the rushes, piling them high around the perimeter, and pushed the furniture against the walls.

I folded the tripod and tucked the iron stand in a corner of the room. Rocks were always on hand to drop into cauldrons for boiling of broth or water or for warming and baking of bread. I placed four flat stones in the middle of the narrow hearth and raked the coals around them.

By the time I’d prepared everything, Angharad had returned and set her collection on the table.

“Now what?” she asked.

“Now you leave,” I said, straightening.

“Not a chance, my friend.”

“I don’t want to endanger you, Angharad. Now that Gwgon is clear of the siren’s clutches, there’s no need to involve yourself further.”

“I would just as soon determine that for myself. The woman is a threat until I see her shipped away and you on a boat sailing for the continent. Until then, I will do my part to see her magic rendered impotent.”

“I’d really prefer—”

“Sincerity and sentiment noted. I’m not leaving.”

I sighed but felt tremendous compassion for her. It had been years since we’d seen one another. I had fallen into her lap with a price on my head and wolves at my heel, yet she had taken me in, protected me, and aided me. “Thank you.” It was insufficient.

She smiled and placed her lips on mine, kissing me softly. Her fingers trailed through my hair. “You’re welcome.” She brushed a tear from my cheek. “Now, enough of this melodramatic nonsense. Let’s castrate this bicche.”

I laughed, sniffed, and hugged her fiercely. I would miss her.

“Tell me what to do.” Angharad surveyed the room.

I pulled out the vellum, and using a pair of scissors, cut two small sections away. I handed her one piece, kept the other one, and placed the rest back in my satchel. “I promised Alrik I would rise above the petty malicious games that Marared has been playing. As high priestess, I must honor the Goddess in all that I do. Our intentions must be noble, our use of magic for the greater good. Write out your desires clearly, and heed your words. Ask the Goddess for protection from your enemies. Ask her to ward off the influence of harmful magic, curses, or ill words spoken against you and those you love. Entreat her to keep your family and friends safe.” Whether runes, ogham symbols, Latin, or English, words written with intention carried powerful magic.

“All right.” She scribbled out her petition.

“Place it in the cauldron.”

She dropped it inside, and I wrote out my plea, adding my prayers to Angharad’s. I collected what I needed for the ceremony and placed them in a small pile on the dirt floor.

I surveyed my handiwork.

“This is thrilling.” Angharad sat on the edge of her bench.

“Are you sure I can’t convince you to leave?”

“Not a whit.”

I thought back to something Bertram had once said to me, “When a rock is thrown into a lake, the ripples cast a wide net, each wave affecting new and smaller ripples until even the memory of the rock disappears. The events leading to this moment had been set in motion long before.”

Muirgen had charged me with protecting our faith but also with opening others to the possibility of something more. Was that what I was doing here? Could Angharad be a part of that? Somehow carrying on our faith? There was no way to know. I squared my shoulders and tossed my rock. One day, perhaps I would learn where its ripples fell.

“I’ll need you to be silent for this next part,” I said.

“I can do that.” She pinched her lips between thumb and forefinger before resting her hands on her lap.

Standing on the inside, I drew a circle with chalk and divided it into four quadrants. I raised my arms overhead. “In the name of the one true Goddess, I cast this circle.”

I placed an object in each quarter, symbolizing the element of each goddess, and sent an invocation inviting Her presence at the ceremony. For the northernmost section of the circle, I honored Aine with the bundle of mace and lavender. Their sweet perfume represented the element of air. In the eastern portion, I scooped out some of the embers from the hearth for Macha, the Goddess of fire. I gathered them in a small pile and set a mound of dried fungus and kindling on top. For Danu, the Earth Mother, I placed a loaf of bread in the southernmost aspect of the circle. For Badb, Guardian of the Western Gate, I filled a cup with water.

In the middle, at the confluence of the points, bisecting the stones in the hearth, I placed the brass cauldron with our intentions on one of the flat surfaces. I set the jet, amethyst, and chip of linden each on one of the remaining three stones. I surrounded all of that with the myrrh and frankincense. The heat of the embers and rocks warmed the herbs, diffusing their scent throughout the room.

I’d only ever called upon the Goddess for divination, to ask for blessings and protection, or to impart good wishes or positive futures for my community and family. I’d never attempted anything like this.

Angharad and the cottage disappeared. I crashed violently into my body. My head was pinned in the wedge of a split post, my hands bound before me. I was naked. Blood and sweat dripped between my legs. Halfdan swung. The whip bit hard into the raw and torn flesh of my back.

“Please,” I begged.

He thought I was a spy. Nothing I said or did would change his mind. He grabbed a red hot brand from the fire and twirled it in front of me. He held it a finger’s breadth from my face. The heat seared my skin as it trailed just out of reach of my jawline. He placed strands of my hair across the glowing iron point. The smell of burnt hair curdled my stomach. The locks singed and turned black, smoking.

He lifted my foot. Searing metal pressed into the arch. I writhed in pain. My neck slipped deeper into the chiseled crevice in the post. I fought for breath. The jagged wood choked and gouged at my skin. I lifted my eyes. “Goddess, I call upon thee. Come to your child, use my body, fill me with your power. Strike down my enemies.”

Halfdan’s jaw clenched. His teeth bared beneath thin lips. “Enough!” He raised the whip as if to strike me but stopped.

The crackle of something burning drew our attention to the opened door. The rushes were alight. Flames licked at the roof above us.

The fire gave me courage. I cried out, beyond caring what he would do to me, and borrowed Alrik’s oath. “I swear on Odin’s eye and Thor his son, I will bring about your ruin, Halfdan Ragnarson.” Using the last ounce of strength I had, I pulled myself up on trembling legs. My hair, drenched and matted, framed wild, crazed eyes as they locked with Halfdan’s. “The more pain you inflict on me, the more I curse you in this life,” I spat. “You will die a weak and useless man, Halfdan. You will never see Valhalla.”

I snapped back to the present to find Angharad’s eyes wide with wonder. I could still smell the acrid stench of burnt hair and the thick, black smoke as the wattle and thatch burned around me. The reek coated my nostrils.

In the moment with Halfdan, I’d cursed him. It hadn’t registered at the time. I was in pain, dizzy, and on the verge of succumbing to the darkness. I didn’t remember much of the experience. I recalled waking up sometime later. Demas had dragged me behind his cart, but even that memory was fuzzy.

I wasn’t as righteous as I thought. Muirgen had once told me my responsibility as high priestess was to use my divinely inspired gifts for good, never to cause harm. That day with Halfdan in the weaving shed, I had invoked the Goddess with ill intent—and meant every word of it—but nothing came of the curse. It had no effect on the bastard. He sold me back to Demas and managed to exile Alrik. Yet something extraordinary had happened. Fire had consumed the cottage. Was that magic?

I gazed at the ritual space I’d eked out in Angharad’s guest cottage. I recalled Muirgen’s book and the image of the witch consumed by darkness. I didn’t want that to be my fate. I took a fortifying moment and reiterated my intentions. Despite her cruelty and malevolence, I didn’t want anything bad to happen to Marared. I wanted her dark magic to stop. I wanted it to become innocuous, not only to myself, but to Alrik, Gwgon, Angharad, and anyone else who stood in the way of her ambitions. I wanted to see an end to her hostilities. Perhaps the Goddess could turn her heart from hatred—a prayer worth evoking.

I made my way in turn around the circle.

I lifted the bundle of mace and lavender. “Aine, ethereal Maiden, guardian of the heavens, hear my plea.” I touched the herbs against the glowing embers of the hearth until they smoldered. Waving them over the northern quadrant, I encouraged the wisps of smoke to snake into the air before setting them back down.

“Macha, righteous Queen, fair and noble chieftain, keeper of our days and nights, hear my plea.” I knelt down at the eastern aspect of the circle and blew on the little pile of embers, coaxing them to a brilliant red. The fungus and kindling caught. I continued to blow until flames leapt and danced.

Gooseflesh raised along my arms. The Goddess was coming.

“Danu, resilient Mother, protector, sustainer, governess of hills and plains, hear my plea.” I held up the bread in supplication and then tore off a small piece, adding it to the brass cauldron.

“Badb, fearless Raven, fearsome Crone, keeper of oceans and sacred wells, hear my plea.” I dipped my fingers into the cup of water and flicked them onto the hot rocks. The droplets sizzled and popped. I moved to the center of the circle.

I held my knife up to the sky. “Goddess, bless this blade, so that its sacrifice might carry my intentions to your ears.”

I held out my left hand in supplication and then drew the iron edge deeply through the flesh of my palm. I hissed at the sting and turned my hand sideways. Blood dripped, pooling in the cauldron, coating our prayers with slick hope.

I shook my wrist. A crimson shower sprayed the talismans in the center of the circle. A loud tapping stopped me dead in my tracks. I turned to the door, my heart in my throat, but the latch was locked. I glanced at the walls. The noise came from all around us—a staccato beat without rhythm or locus. Something pelted the cottage, like a storm of hail. Angharad moved to the door and unlatched it, opening it a crack to peer outside.

Her sharp inhale made my heart race faster. “What is it?” I asked.

“Flies. The sky is black. They’re falling and hitting everything.”

Someone screamed. Angharad’s eyes grew wide with terror. She retreated from the door. “What have we done?” She looked from me to the walls.

I had no answer, but I knew one thing for certain. I needed to close the circle and fast. “Goddess, thank you for hearing our pleas and honoring us with your presence.” I made my way around the circle counter-clockwise, extending my gratitude to each goddess by name.

Angharad pulled the shutters open and peered through the screen of writhing and flapping masses. Several sleek black bodies fell to the rushes at her feet. She shook her head, trying to dislodge several large flies that had tangled in her hair. I stepped out of the circle. I wrapped a linen band around my hand and looked down at the ritual space. “I don’t understand. Surely we had nothing to do with the insects. I—”

“My plea.” Angharad closed the shutters and pressed herself into the wall, a look of panic on her face. “I didn’t ask for protection. I cursed Marared to hell.”