Highland Raven (7 page)

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When we entered the grove, we found that all the houses were dark save Epona’s. As soon as we stepped into the clearing, Epona opened her door and beckoned us within.

On the table, several scrolls were rolled out, and I eyed them as Epona dipped into her cupboards. She emerged with bread and dried fruit.

“How are you both?”

“We are intact,” Sid replied.

“Did she follow?” Epona asked Sid.

Sid looked at me. “She did go to the other side.”

“To the Good Neighbors?”

Sid shook her head. “The Wyrds. I told them that they weave the threads of fate too soon.”

Epona nodded. “They are anxious.” She then turned to me. “So what have your sisters shown you in the cauldron?”

I balked.

“Come, girl.”

“A man,” I answered.

Epona looked thoughtful. “Have you seen this man before?”

“Peace, Lady. We’ve not eaten in days,” Sid said as she sliced bread for us both.

Relieved, I exhaled deeply. I didn’t even know what I had seen or what it meant. Something about Epona told me that she was trustworthy, that I was safe with her. But the Wyrd Sisters also warned that Epona had her own agenda, and I had no idea what that was. I wasn’t sure what to tell her.

Epona softened. “You know my concerns.”

Sid nodded.

“Tomorrow, go to the smithy and work with Uald,” Epona said to me.

I nodded, glad she didn’t ask any more questions.

“What are you working on?” Sid asked, looking at Epona’s papers.

“Calculating our projected harvest compared to last year’s and determining if we will have enough to get us through next winter,” Epona said, her brows furrowing.

I looked at her papers. They looked like scribbles to me.

Epona saw me. “Tomorrow, after dinner, you and Ludmilla will begin your lessons in writing.”

I nodded affirmatively and scarfed down the rest of my dinner. Almost immediately, I began to feel drunk from the food. Sid’s eyes also drifted.

“Go to bed, girls,” Epona said with a laugh.

Thankful, Sid and I departed.

Outside, Sid pulled me into an embrace. Her body was a frail thing, her bones jutting out sharply from just below her skin. But she felt warm and so familiar.

“So what was your name when I was Boudicca?” I whispered in her ear.

“Aife,” Sid whispered back. “But more importantly, your friend…always and forever. So, goodnight, Raven Beak,” she said, tapping me playfully on the nose, then headed back toward her house.

I smiled as I watched her go then went back to my own little house. Inside, Ludmilla was already sleeping. I crawled into bed beside my puppy who now wore a small wreath, a protective amulet, around her neck. I was curious but far too exhausted to examine it. Besides, my mind felt like it was bursting. One day I was sitting, bored, at the hearth beside Madelaine. The next day my world was full of magical tidings and old, forgotten things: I was a reincarnate of the warrior queen Boudicca, but I was called Cerridwen by the magical Wyrd Sisters who had shown me
my
King. A month before I had lamented that I couldn’t do embroidery; now I was firmly in the hands of the Goddess. The thought of it filled me from head to toe with nervous passion.

For the next few weeks
, I worked with Uald in the smithy. Since court dresses were too cumbersome, I wore my travel breeches and cut my night dresses at the waist as a tunic. The first few days my arms ached. As I continued to work, however, my body got used to the feeling. All my life I’d been kept from men’s work, but now I could see. I loved it, and so did Uald. In fact, Uald surprised me one morning when instead of instructing me to pound steel, she handed me a sword, but not just any sword, a claymore.

I lifted the heavy weapon. The metal hilt felt cold in my hands, but I liked the feel of the weapon. I’d always wanted to learn the ways of the sword, like the warrior queens of old, but I wasn’t allowed. It was thought too vulgar for a woman to wield a weapon. Sunlight glinted off the blade. I swished the sword back and forth. Boudicca. Was it true? Were the visions memory or madness? I had always been imaginative, that was certain, but those who followed the old ways believed a spirit lived many lives. Yet visions sometimes spoke of madness, and my head hummed oddly when I thought of it, like I was hearing muffled voices, as if time had thrust itself out of joint. I gripped the steel and closed my eyes. I was not mad. I had remembered Boudicca’s world, the feel of my body and the warmth of my blood. It was time to practice my skills again.

“I think that claymore weighs more than you do,” Uald said with a grin. “Well, let’s see what you’ve got,” she added. Giving the short sword she was holding a spin, Uald stood ready.

I lifted the sword clumsily and swung it from side to side, trying to get the feel of the weapon. It was very heavy, but I loved it.

“Ready?” Uald asked.

I nodded.

“Just try to block me. Move the sword in my path.”

I nodded again, and Uald made the first lunge. She was so fast that it caught me by surprise. I didn’t have a chance to move in time. Moments later, I was looking at Uald down the length of her blade.

“Dead,” she said, pulling her blade back. “Try again.”

I grinned at her, held the sword, and waited.

Uald lunged again. My instincts worked against me. I wanted to block but my body moved clumsily. She then feinted. I tried to parry, but seconds later, her blade was resting lightly on my neck.

“Dead again,” she said. “Tighten your grip, and try to feel the center of your body. Get your balance.”

Again we moved. Once more I tried to block her but to no avail. On this stroke, however, a vision flashed through my mind. I saw myself on the battlefield, my wild red hair flying around me as a Roman soldier advanced. He wore a glimmering gold-colored breastplate and helmet with a red plume at the top. Like Uald, he struck, but this time I blocked…with a shield, sticking my short sword into the soldier’s gut. It was so natural. I went in for the kill easily and with a spin of the sword, I turned and decapitated the Roman soldier behind me. I took off his head with one quick stroke. A waterfall of blood sprayed across the horizon following the head that spun off into the distance. The startling image rocked me from my memory.

“Cerridwen?” Uald asked, taking me by the arm. “Are you all right?”

I nodded. “Do you have a shield? And a one-handed sword?”

Uald raised an eyebrow at me then nodded. “See something?”

“Let’s…well, let’s just try.”

Uald handed me a round buckler and short sword. I slid the shield into place and gripped the sword. Suddenly, everything felt much more familiar.

“Block,” Uald commanded, then came at me, moving quickly.

This time, I tried not to think. I just moved. Moments later, I heard a clang and felt a vibrating thud when Uald’s sword hit my shield.

Uald laughed out loud.

I looked to see that not only had I blocked her advance, but my sword’s point was sitting an inch away from her belly.

“Well, seems we found your weapons,” she said and pulled back. “Either that or you are channeling the Morrigu. Try not to kill me,” Uald said with a grin.

Once more we stood at the ready. “Again,” Uald called, and we began. Centuries-old memories made my arms move. I was clumsy. I needed practice, but I remembered the feel of short sword and shield in my hands.

Uald and I practiced like this every morning, clashing arms in the morning mist. It was my favorite part of the day. Slowly, I became less clumsy. My body grew stronger. My physical form molded itself into the form of a warrior woman.

While Uald kept my body busy, Epona filled my mind. Ogham, the language of the trees, and the oldest written language known to Epona, was the first language Ludmilla and I were taught. We learned how each symbol, lines with slashes, corresponded to letters and to trees. And Epona read us the ancient poem
Cad Goddeau
, “The Battle of the Trees,” written by the druid Taliesin.

“There are ancient teachings buried in the poems,” Epona explained, “as there are in many of the old tales. Taliesin was a great druid, and in the poem he tells how he enchanted the very trees, turning them into warriors, to fight on his side. He evokes the energy of the earth and sends an army of trees to advance on a citadel:

The alders in the front line

began the affray.

Willow and rowan-tree

were tardy in array.

The holly, dark green

Made a resolute stand;

He is armed with many spear-points

Wounding the hand.

“But was it the trees themselves, their ancient energies molded into fighting men, or was it the natural energy, the magic found from brewing leaf and root, that did the fighting? If each tree is a letter, does the battle represent a battle of wit or a battle of steel? Taliesin’s poem would have us believe the woods advanced upon the castle, but such wizardry seems lost, and impossible.

“The more you study the mystery of the ancient rhymes, the more you will feel the true meaning, the true answer,” Epona told us.

“What is the answer?” Ludmilla asked.

In my mind, I imagined Taliesin standing before the forest chanting long-dead languages, the trees morphing from their corporeal forms into airy figures, fighting men made of the green. Taliesin had transformed the trees into men.

Epona smiled. “I’ll leave that for you to discover,” she said coyly.

I loved learning about the goddess and the old ways from Epona. And very soon, it came time for Ludmilla and me to take our goddess names. After dinner one evening near Beltane, the fertility festival of spring, Druanne set two blue glass bottles on the table.

“The brew is ready,” Druanne said to Epona.

She nodded affirmatively.

“What does it do?” I asked, picking up one of the bottles.

Druanne took it from me and set it back down on the table. “It will allow your Goddess to come to you, speak to you, so you can learn your Goddess name.”

“Tomorrow you must eat or drink nothing. You will be given the elixir at sunset. Druanne will guide you,” Epona told us.

“Oh, how exciting!” Bride said with a clap of her hands. “Shall we wager on it? Our blonde lass here looks like she belongs to a spring maid.”

Ludmilla looked uncertain, nervous.

“We shall see,” Epona replied simply.

I passed a glance to Sid who winked at me. At least I knew which goddess to expect.

The next day, Uald and I pulled the maypole from the barn rafters and lugged it to the center square. We bedecked the top of the pole with bright colored ribbons and a crown of flowers. Uald spent the rest of the day chopping wood and piling it near the fire rings that Druanne and Aridmis had prepared. Ludmilla, Bride, and Epona worked in Epona’s house and at the fire preparing food. I strung garlands of flowers and greens, mindful to leave out snowdrops, taken from Druanne’s flower garden.

I’d fasted all day. My stomach rumbled a little, but I didn’t mind. I wanted to try the elixir. How would Cerridwen come to me? In a vision? In a dream? Now I would see what the Goddess wanted from me.

After the sun dropped below the horizon, Druanne came to Ludmilla and me in our little house and gave us both one of the blue bottles. “Drink, then rest on your bed. The potion will do the rest. I’ll come back later to check on you both,” she said then left.

Without hesitation, Ludmilla drank hers down, her face puckering at the taste.

“Well?” I asked.

“Sour,” she answered and poured herself a glass of water.

I patted my little dog on her head. She had grown since we’d first come to the coven, but she still had a lot more growing to do. And she had not yet told me her name.

“Perhaps my dog should drink a little too so we can find out her name,” I said with a laugh.

When Ludmilla made no sound at my jest, I looked up. She lay still on her bed. “Ludmilla?” I whispered.

She did not reply.

I laid my hand on her chest. Her heart beat slowly. “Ludmilla?”

“I hear you, sister,” she said in a voice quieter than a whisper.

I looked at the flask, rolling the glass around in my hand. With a sudden surge of courage, I uncorked the top and drank. Ludmilla was right; the taste was horribly bitter. I began to feel very dizzy. I swooned.

Ludmilla rose. She stripped naked, and birds flew in the room and dressed her in a gown of gold. They laid a flower ring on her head. A golden light surrounded her. She smiled at me and disappeared in a shower of glittering dust. I looked back at her bed. Her body lay there, but her essence was missing. I scowled. I looked down at my pup.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

I stopped, disbelieving. “Ludmilla,” I whispered.

“She’s gone with her Goddess. Aren’t you supposed to go too?” the pup asked then licked my chin. “I do like it here,” she told me.

“Am I really hearing you?” I asked.

She wagged her tail.

“What is your name?”

She barked a little bark. “Why don’t you call me Thora?”

I laughed. “That’s a big name.”

“I’ll be a big dog,” she answered.

I grinned, patted her on the head, and then rose. I opened the front door and looked up at the moon. It was high in the sky. The coven square was empty. The fire under the cauldron had faded; the coals glowed red. I moved through the darkness, but my feet never touched the ground. When I reached the cauldron’s side, I looked in to see the moon reflected perfectly in the water, filling the oval of the cauldron with silver light. I stared into the water and a number of images rose. First I saw a white flower with five petals. It fit into the cauldron precisely, five points encapsulated by a circle. I lifted my head and looked around. The whole coven was dark. I looked into the cauldron again and saw a white sow munching on a bed of violets. I stepped back from the cauldron. A dark-robed figure stood in the shadows.

“Druanne?”

The figure took two steps toward me.

I did not move.

She dropped her hood. She had pale white skin and silver hair. Her whole body glowed. A long silver sword hung at her side. I noticed that the whole world around me glowed as she did, with silver light. All objects became black or purple, their auras silver.

I didn’t breathe.

“The Goddess Cerridwen will not come to you because you are the Goddess Cerridwen,” the woman said.

I trembled. “Who are you?”

“I am your mother and your protector. I will move you, Cerridwen, where you must go. You are the avenger. You are the embodiment of an army of dead men. You are a queen. You are a goddess.”

“My Lady,” I whispered, bowing my head, “by what name should I address you?”

“I am the Morrigu. I am Scotia. I am Cailleach. I am the third face. I am the dark face. Call me what you will. Scotia fits this face best. I have waited a long time for you to be reborn.”

“What do you want from me, Lady?”

“Vengeance. Avenge me and the land. Avenge yourself upon those who wrong you. Be the blade of the Goddess. Learn what you can here, from this circle of nine, but know you will move on, and from the next place you go, you will move as well. I will take you where you need to be. I will instill you with the power you will need. All you need to do is call upon me.”

“I am blessed,” I whispered, amazed. Yet at the same time, my blood began to cool. An old, dead part of me rose from a cobweb-filled grave and looked out through my eyes. It was like I was merging, become one with some ancient force that had always lived alongside me, but was never part of me. I felt it rise from the yawning darkness. My body tingled. Scotia had awakened the magic in me, and I began to see what I needed to do.

“Call your power,” she whispered.

I closed my eyes and summoned up the strength within me. I felt the moonlight shining down on me. I began to glow. I began to hum. My power deafened me.

“Avenge yourself,” she whispered. “Punish those who have wronged your blood.”

I lifted up, as if on the wings of a bird, of a raven. I could hear the thunder of my wings as they moved through the air, pulsing under the light of the moon. My heart pounded in sync. I was flying. My eyes roved the land. A path of silvery light led me to Madelaine’s castle. With my raven’s eyes I could see through the citadel walls. I flew around the castle, looking through the walls, searching. He was not there. I raged. My raven eyes searched. Finally, I saw him walking from the barn to the castle. I didn’t think. I didn’t reason. I just acted. I dove down upon Alister with wrath and felt my claws slip into him as easy as sticking one’s hand into water. He screamed a blood-curdling cry. When I rose up, his soul, like a spider web, clung to my talons. Ruthlessly, I shook his being away. On the earth below me, his body lay still.