Authors: Nat Burns
Occil was reaching up and touching Ronat’s thigh, lovingly, and she repeatedly swatted the hand away as she glared at me. She turned to the Diarmin. “Why are you touching me? Who are you?”
A soft, plush bed suddenly appeared where the pile of straw had been. The air filled with a potent flowery scent and suddenly Ronat’s close-fitting one-piece suit was replaced with flowing morning robes of fine silk. A chair filled with soft cushions appeared behind me and lush, colorful tapestries covered the stone walls.
Yewsy grasped my arm. “Cleome, what is happening?”
“Occil, what are you about, Diarmin?”
Occil was still staring adoringly at Ronat. “I make a beautiful, comfortable home for my love.”
“Home? Love?” Ronat frowned in puzzlement. “No, stop it!”
“It displeases you, lovely one? Tell me what you want and I will provide it. Your wish is my desire.” Occil waved one tiny hand and the wall hangings were suddenly a different design, a deeper color.
Avapeony moved closer to me. “Cleome, you brought a Diarmin? What were you thinking?”
“I was thinking that we need to bring you home. There was no other way.” I knew stubbornness rang in my voice.
Beautiful jewels appeared on Ronat’s chest, fingers and ears. “Wh...what?” she gasped and reached up to rip them from her body. They fell on Occil’s head but the creature seemed unfazed.
“How have you been treated, Ava? Have they hurt you?”
Avapeony shook her head. “No. They forget food and water sometimes, but Tsisi brings it.”
“Tsisi has been here? I wish she had contacted me.” I frowned at my sister. “I would have appreciated knowing that you were all right.”
“I have more important things to do than...oooh...” Tsisi flew low and blinked into invisibility in front of Occil’s face, dropping a basket of water to the dungeon floor. “Why have you released it, Cleome? Do the Mothers know of this? Surely, they would never have allowed...we are so much better off with them locked away. They cause so very much trouble, Cleome. I am just having a...”
Occil waved a hand and, though Tsisi’s lips moved, her voice could no longer be heard.
“I apologize, my lovely,” the Diarmin said to Ronat. “Music would be a much better choice. Shall I bring up music? What is your preference, love of my life?”
Soothing harp music faded into the room. Ronat’s face was a morphing of disgust and bewilderment as she glared at Occil.
Tsisi flew to me as she tried to shake off the binding set by Occil. It was strong and took her three tries.
“See?” she said archly. “This is what I’m talking about. There is no possibility of controlling what it does. Have you thought of that?” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “They are tricksters, too. Do not trust it. Do not.”
She flew around in an agitated circle, finally pausing again in front of my face, wings flapping frantically. “Oh,” she wailed sadly. “I go to tell the Mothers. To bring them even more grief to add to what they deal with at present.”
I watched her fly out through one of the high windows and sighed heavily. “It’s time, Occil.”
The Diarmin ignored me. It was sitting on the bed, prone, chin on his propped up palms, staring longingly at Ronat who had pulled Avapeony aside and was feverishly discussing something with her. Every time she absent-mindedly shrugged out of the morning robe, Occil twitched a hand and magically placed it back on her shoulders.
“Diarmin! It’s time. Take us back to Witta.”
“Why?” it asked sleepily. “I like it here.”
“You don’t understand, you twit. The Brinc Meabs are trying to kill the Witta Meabs and we need to go back before they come down to the dungeon,” Yewsy explained impatiently.
This captured the Diarmin’s attention. “Kill? It’s unheard of for Meabs to kill one another. Surely you’re mistaken.”
“Send out your sense, Diarmin. The Brinc have embraced machines instead of magic. Do you feel magic here?” I asked.
Ronat approached. “It’s true, Diarmin. My clan have taken on the Milesian machines and technology. They use these weapons for ill.”
A goofy smile spread across Occil’s face when Ronat addressed him directly. “Machines? Technology? I like the sound of those words. Are they very powerful, these machines? This must be what the seers predicted.” Its eyes narrowed. “Is this your way, beloved?”
Ronat reached behind and grasped Avapeony’s hand. “No. My way is the Witta way.”
“Well, then Witta way it shall be,” Occil agreed amiably. “I will disable the machines.” He waved his arms.
Moments later, a great roar sounded and after that, just a few moments more, running feet thundered throughout the citadel. The stone walls fairly shook in outrage.
I gasped and glanced upward. “Diarmin! What have you done?”
“I think they’ve forgotten their magic,” Occil said thoughtfully. “They run amuck, helpless and stupid.”
I grasped my head in both hands. “Afton, go see,” I said.
Afton parted and squeezed around the heavy wood and metal door. The sound had not let up, indeed, it seemed to be louder as more of the Brinc joined in.
Afton sped through the doorframe and slammed into me. “They have guessed we are here,” he said. “They come.”
He showed me images of outraged Brinc, beating their useless machines, panic on their gaunt faces.
“Occil, we leave now, this moment.”
Footsteps sounded on the stone entryway to the dungeon. A voice called out to Ronat.
Occil turned to Ronat, scowling. “Who dares speak your name? Speak the request and I will do away with him.”
“No! It’s my brother, only my brother,” she said hastily.
“Please, do not harm him.”
“Occil...” I warned. I made as if to reach for the grimoire in my bag.
The Diarmin let out a long-suffering sigh then lifted its arms and wiggled its hands.
I KNEW I was in trouble when the Diarmin refused to go back to Endet. “You’ve got to make it leave us alone,” Avapeony said in a
harsh whisper.
“What do you expect me to do?” I responded.
“You brought it here, now, send it back!”
“Oh, as if I haven’t tried.” I hoped I didn’t sound as frustrated as I felt.
Two suns had passed since the five of us had returned to Widdershin join. I could tell that Avapeony was relieved to be home, but the Diarmin, Occil, would give Ronat, and thus Avapeony, no rest. Its infatuation with Ronat was boundless and each day brought new luxuries to our door. Our sleeping cells had the finest beds. Our foods and breads were the freshest and most nutritious. Our clothing changed hourly so we were always perfectly neat and clean.
It was maddening.
I had allowed the Diarmin a second day in this world. It seemed an honest payment for rescuing Avapeony. But, on the dawn of the third day, when I forced the issue, the Diarmin refused to go back through the shearing hole. My banishments were never completed because it bound my words so they couldn’t be heard. We had gone back and forth like this until, frustrated, I decided to work smarter, not harder. I needed to figure out a way to outsmart the obnoxious creature.
A sudden disturbance near the front door drew our attention. A tiny fox, which had been sleeping on a cushion next to the hearth, leapt up, alarmed, and sprang through the window. Vines shook on the walls and my gaze roamed the room, seeking what had caused the unease.
The door sprang open and a monstrosity stepped into the cottage. It resembled a woman, a Mother, true, but she had a square metal cage around her head and wore strange metal circles over her eyes. One of the circles had a strange contraption attached to it. Her clothing was loose and flowing but was made up of long, thin strips of metal, punched with holes and woven together with flaxen thread. The thread had been dyed with berry juice so was a deep red in color. The metal was polished to a high sheen and caught the sunlight well.
The woman was followed by a trio of Meab servants. One helped lift the excess of the obviously heavy garment she wore as the others hovered expectantly, all the while studying and shaking the inactive machines they held in their hands. One spoke into one of the machines then shook it when he received no response after a few seconds.
“Hello?” I offered.
“Hello,” she said imperiously. “I am Dot of Prosee join. I understand that you have called up a Diarmin?”
I nodded shortly. “And if I did?”
“I need to speak with it, see it. Where is it?” She studied the room, the strange machine on her eyes whirring laboriously as it moved. “I don’t see it.”
“Why do you need to speak with it?”
She stared at me, a look of disgusted tolerance curling her lip. “Do you not realize what that...that...creature has done to our clan?”
I played dumb. “What has happened?”
Dot shook her head, sending out a tinkle sound of metal connecting on metal. “You know very well that your...interference has caused our technology to cease functioning. Our village has come to a standstill. I need your Diarmin to set things right again.”
Avapeony pushed in front of me. “Yes, take it, please. Make it fix everything for you.”
Dot lifted her chin. “Bring it to me. I will make it do my bidding.”
“It won’t work,” I said absently as I took a seat at the table. I crossed my legs and adjusted my tunic to cover my knees.
“Why?” Dot said, aggravation in her tone.
“It was my summon. It will only obey my will,” I answered.
Silence fell as Dot and Avapeony pondered this truth.
Dot approached the table and tapped one metal shod fingertip on the wooden boards. “You will tell him to obey me, to come to the citadel with me and restore our lights and the lightning that drives our tools and machines.”
I lowered my chin, thinking about how bad—and wonderful—it would be to refuse to re-power the Brinc village. Preventing Occil from restoring the Brinc technology would certainly solve a lot of the problems currently facing the Mothers.
“Dot Prosee,” I said finally, keeping my voice low and even. “Are you aware of what your technology has cost our clan? Me, especially?”
Dot made a dismissive sound with her lips. “Yes, yes, I have already apologized to all the Witta Mothers. We are trying to form a new treaty that will be amenable to both clans of Meab. By allowing this Diarmin to interfere, you have violated the first precepts of the treaty. Unless you bid your creature to my will, the ramifications could be severe.”
“Severe?” Avapeony questioned.
“War,” Dot said dramatically. She turned to me. “Is that what you want for your people, Widdershin?”
“Of course not!” I said bitterly, leaping to my feet. “But coming into our forest and killing innocent Meab, one a Mother, abducting a young girl from her home...these are the actions that incite war. You are fortunate that the Mothers entertain anything you might say in your defense. There is no defense. What Signe Ray did was wrong, plain and simple. Now, I am deprived of my join and my companion as I pass through various aspects of my wit.”
I heard Avapeony gasp at my challenge of a Mother, but there was no way I could stop now.
“Suppose you had been deprived of the Mother of Prosee join as you grew? Would you have been so eager to defend those who took her life? Oh, wait. You now have your machines to guide your decisions, machines to teach you, machines to hold you when you need someone to hold you.” I paused and chose my next words carefully. “You have machines so that you will be distracted, so you won’t see that the magic has left your lives.”
Dot’s eyes grew wide as my words reached her. “How dare you speak to me like this? You...you mindless little atrebud. You Witta play at being wit with your silly practice games, spending centuries learning archaic workings, unimportant lore. Our machines take us there and beyond before even one century has passed. Don’t you speak about things you can’t even possibly understand.”
I studied Dot’s angry features, as well as the terrified faces of her attendants. All I could feel was an overwhelming sadness for all of them.
“Dot, I can’t help the way I feel. And I ask you, if the machines speed up your achievement of ken in such a way, what shall you do with the rest of your time here, during the centuries that you will walk on Mother Earth?”
Dot’s hand crept to her throat and she fiddled with the collar of her metal robe. Her mouth worked but no sound came forth until she cleared her throat and tried again. “Just bring that evil creature to the citadel by dark tomorrow. If you fail to comply, you shall feel the bitter ire of our soldiers. You shall quake under their anger.”
She turned and passed from the cottage, the harsh scent of metal wafting through the room.
THE GAUNTLET HAD been dropped. Avapeony and I stared at one another in shock.
“Ava?” Ronat entered the room, cautiously so as not to encounter Occil right away. “What was that about?”
“It was Brinc, my love. They wish me to restore their technology,” Occil said, stepping out from behind the mass of tangled vines where it had been hiding.
“You have to,” Avapeony said. “Our peoples cannot war. There has been no fighting in our lands for thousands of centuries. We cannot be responsible for causing war.”
“What care I?” the Diarmin said with some annoyance.
I sat down and stared at the Diarmin. “Care? Why should you care? It’s not your battle.”
I caught Occil off guard by agreeing with it. Eyeing me guardedly, it moved closer. “That is correct. The outcome will not affect me.”
“But it will me. And Avapeony. And Cleome. And all the rest of the Meab,” Ronat said angrily. “You are a selfish beast, aren’t you?”
A visage of horror plastered the Diarmin’s face. “Oh, no, no, no. You mustn’t think ill of me, love. It was a momentary lapse in judgement. Of course I will do anything you ask of me. Anything to make you happy.”
“The Meab are a strong people,” I mused. “Gather. We will work this out. There has to be a way. We will talk it through.”
“I’ll make tea,” Avapeony said, moving toward the hearth.