Authors: Nat Burns
“Cleome? You’re here.” MayApple didn’t look at me as she approached. She was watching her sister’s body in disbelief. “Oh, DaisyFir,” she wailed quietly. Ninne, her fammie, darkened in grief. MayApple reached for Ninne, and her fingers entwined with tendrils of cloud, seeking comfort and physical support.
Craghn and the rest of the Straw join followed their matriarch. They stood in a small cluster, shocked as they took in the aftermath of the viciousness. Yewsy, my dearest friend, my birth mate, broke loose and came to me.
“Oh, Cleome, what has happened? We heard the noise and felt the power of the magic.” She watched me expectantly.
I turned from her and took my mother’s hot, limp hand.
“They’ve been taken from me,” I whispered.
I pressed my lips to my mother’s long, slender fingers, remembering their gentle touch, their reprimand, their magical power. My mother had been the strongest wit of all. How could her power have failed us? I didn’t understand. It made no sense.
“COME AWAY, CLEOME,” MayApple said, taking my hand.
“But...I don’t understand,” I muttered aloud. My other hand sought the warmth and comfort of Afton.
“We need to know,” Craghn said. He pointed to Fede. “Tell us,” he ordered.
Fede lifted from my father’s chest and floated heavily to Irine. The two fammies moved close to us and extended tendrils to Craghn’s fammie, Arthfael.
“Afton, I need to see,” I said, rising and moving to them. I could feel Afton’s reluctance, but I stood strong. He connected with Arthfael and images inundated me.
It was the Brinc clan who had visited this tragedy upon us, but with no Brinc Mother present, sanctioning it. Signe watched from the clearing just outside the Widdershin cottage as a small cadre of his brethren swarmed the house. Lorne, his fammie, suffered, evidenced by his patchy, pocked surface. Signe’s tall sons, Blass, Cathe and Sentr, stood guard while actively directing the attack. Their fammies were dark and small, as well, and I wondered why the Brincs could not see what was happening to their very essence. Their love of technology and lightning power was killing the source of who they were as Meab. If their fammies left or died, what would happen to them? I could not imagine life without our fammies, the entities who birthed us, cared for us and carried us back to Lake Feidlimed when our light was snuffed. Would their beloved machines sustain them if their fammies died?
I turned my attention back to the panorama before my mind’s eye. I saw my mother pulled from the house by Signe’s men, their puny fammies joined into a circular shield so that her magic was stymied. I almost cried out but knew it would do no good. That time had passed.
My father leapt forward, breaking free from two of Signe’s men. He drew his dagger and sent death along its blade, taking one man down. He was promptly attacked by three of the Ray join who held small boxes which they pressed against the skin of his neck and arm. He went down, his face a study in agony. My mother screamed and rushed toward him only to be pulled back by the men.
“We have word,” Signe intoned loudly, “or rather, our watchers tell our Mothers that your join has violated our treaty. That you bewitched two young men of our Outlie join so that they would hinder production. Is this true?”
My mother, even in her grief, her face wet with tears, drew power about herself and stood tall. “I have told you before, Signe, our join, indeed, our clan, has no need for your machines. We are still children of the forest. Why would we interfere in your clan when we ask you to leave ours be?”
Signe adjusted the lapel of his long, metal-plated coat then looked at my mother. “DaisyFir, I know the rebel in you. I know how strongly you wish to maintain the ways of the Witta...”
“Not at the expense of your clan!” Mother interrupted. “An’ it harm none, don’t you remember? We would never interfere with your lives.”
“Why would my watchers lie?”
“Why would we bewitch anyone? To what end? Stop the machines? Not hardly,” Mother countered.
Signe studied my mother and the look in his eye reminded me of an old tale told by MayApple about how Signe, before he joined with the Brinc clan, had wooed my mother with the intent of joining Widdershin. I wondered if the rejection had spurred him toward the Brinc clan and Ray join. And the machines.
“Who understands the way of the Witta?” Signe responded with a sneer.
My mother glanced once at my father’s supine form then took advantage of the distraction to defend her join. She raised her arms and the trees began to sway and shake. Even now, after the fact, I quailed at the power she invoked. Irine swirled bright orange and spun rapidly as the power of wit filled my mother.
“Stop her!” Signe cried. “Stop her now!”
Members of the Brinc clan descended on her. They pressed their machines to her skin and her eyes went suddenly blank, the magic forever locked in her hands. I turned away, pulling from Afton. I could watch no more.
The fammies parted and the images faded. The result remained, however, and I approached my father. I knelt and laid my palm against his cold forehead as I bid him goodbye. “Paria Widdershin, child of the Basil join, man of the Widdershin join. We welcomed you, loved you and now we say farewell.”
I nodded to his fammie. I stood and the members of Straw join moved to stand next to my father. MayApple wept quietly and was comforted by a grim-faced Craghn. Yewsy clung to her little sister, Mint, as her brother, Pine, stood apart and scowled his despair.
Fede stretched across my father and descended, wrapping around the body. My father’s outstretched arms and legs were pulled in to his torso, and Fede lifted the now streamlined body. The dirge began then as our two joins linked hands and sang Fede onto her journey to Lake Feidlimed. I’d seen the taking a few times before but never with someone this close to me. Grandmother Glory had been the closest but I’d been a young wit then, just learning about life and death.
And then there was Mother. How could I let her go? I dropped my gaze to the ground, seeking strength from Mother Earth under my feet. Would I survive without her? My training was incomplete. I was only fifteen centuries old, with so much still to learn. The thought that Mother would not be there to guide me through my own mother and crone cycles rankled. I turned and looked at DaisyFir Widdershins, powerful wit and loving woman. Sudden anger and hatred filled me. How dare Signe Ray come into my join and take those I loved from me? How dare he? I bit my lip on the inside to keep from growling in fury. Afton sensed my all-consuming anger and glowed red and yellow. I could feel calming energy washing from him.
I mounted the steps and knelt next to my mother’s form. “I’ll avenge you, Mother. You and Father. Somehow,” I whispered. “Soon.”
Irine touched my face and my mother’s beautiful eyes exploded onto my mind. She was talking to Irine, and it was a message for me.
They have Avapeony, she said. Cleome, save her.
I beat my fists against my stomach and leaned across my dead mother. In my bewilderment and grief, I had all but forgotten my sister.
“Cleome, don’t,” MayApple said next to me. Sobs welled in her voice, choking the words.
“They have Avapeony,” I muttered.
MayApple gasped. “No, DaisyFir said she was at Lore join today.”
“She was,” I nodded. “But she came back. Brinc clan took her.”
“To what end?”
“Conversion,” Pine answered.
We turned and studied him. Tall and lanky, with long, white-blond hair, he was on the verge of manhood. He’d yet to commit to a join but many believed it would be soon. He was drawn to Hippa of Thorn join. His hands fiddled with the edge of his tunic as he regarded us and his fammie, Cin, settled calmly onto his shoulder.
“Conversion?” I asked.
“Yes.” He nodded. “I still see Locre from time to time. He told me once that Signe wants to grow his numbers. They make periodic raids on some of the outlying joins.”
“He’s Givan join. Brinc clan. You know it’s forbidden for you to talk with him, Pine,” MayApple said. She glanced toward Craghn and found him entertaining Mint, too far away to hear their conversation.
Pine shrugged. “Just because Brinc clan decides they no longer want to associate with us, it doesn’t mean that birth unions just go away.”
I knew the truth of this. The new Brinc rules of separation had pitted join mates against one another as interjoins between the clans had always been the norm. In happier times.
“But, we have the lake, Pine. They can grow atrebuds there,” I said, scrubbing tears from my face.
Pine spread his hands. “Locre has never said for sure, but what I am led to believe is that their fammies are too weak to create.”
“Oh no,” I muttered. This was too horrible to contemplate.
Afton pushed against me. “Irine,” he said, connecting against my shoulder.
“Enough,” I said. “We need to say farewell to Mother. Irine swells.”
We turned as one to see the bloated, gray fammie bobbing above my mother’s body. If a clan member is left too long away from Lake Feidlimed after death, his fammie would perish as well, and its energy would be lost.
“Tell her it’s time,” I said to Afton.
Afton drifted across and connected with Irine. He sped back to me and Irine took up the body of my mother as we circled and chanted her away. Sorrow seared my heart as I watched her body float along the tree line and a sense of hopelessness washed across me. How could I go on? My entire join had been killed. I allowed a few moments of self-pity, wallowed in it, then pulled myself together. I welcomed the anger anew. One thought filled my mind: rescuing Avapeony.
“YOU CAN’T GO after her, Cleome. It would mean certain death,” Yewsy said. She leaned back in her chair and lifted her mug of tea to her lips. Her fingers smoothed the polished wood of the cup as she drank and the sight soothed me and grounded me with normalcy. Yewsy had been caressing her wooden mugs since old enough to sup.
She and I had been birthed together, atrebuds summoned by sister Mothers on the banks of Lake Feidlimed at the same time. Our fammies had been lifted from our faces at the same moment and so their connection had been forged as well. I studied Afton and Brennen as they hovered together. Both male energy fammies, they’d told our mothers that Yewsy and I both would have extraordinary courage. And so it had been.
“I agree,” MayApple said. She sat in a heavy, ornately-carved wooden chair near the open window, her gaze on the trees and plants outside. Wind stirred her curly, white hair and Ninne made purring sounds as she whirled in her lap.
It was the morning after my parents’ murder and my sister’s abduction. I’d spent a restless night in Yewsy’s cell, even though I’d been comforted by the heat of her body. I’d yet to cry heartily but knew that mourning would happen much later, after my anger had been spent.
“I have to go,” I replied, staring into my own cup of mead. Mead was the only food I could stomach, and though I didn’t really want anything, I knew I needed nature’s strength for the task ahead. “There’s no one else.”
Mint wandered to me, and I pulled her up and onto my lap. I brushed her fammie, Freyan, aside so I could press my lips to her pale hair. I lifted her grass dolly from the table and handed it to her.
“Men from the joins would go,” MayApple countered. “They are our soldiers. This is what they do, protect us, rescue us.”
“When in our history have we needed such things?” I asked.
MayApple grunted and turned to impale me with her crystal blue eyes. “Yes, we have enjoyed peace for many lifetimes but it doesn’t mean they have forgotten their very nature.”
“We are warriors, too, sister Mother. And our ken is much stronger than theirs. I feel we will need more than brawn to infiltrate Brinc clan.”
“Our wit does seem useless against their machines,” Yewsy muttered. “And I’m not sure that our men would fare much better.”
I hung my head, acknowledging the truth of her words.
MayApple stood and shed her morning robe. I was always amazed at the strength of her form even though she’d walked Mother Earth for centuries. Her arms and legs, clothed in tight flaxen weave, were slim, yet strong and sturdy. Her midsection was bound with supple, peeled woodbine which, when woven, supported her breasts and held her daggers. She reminded me very much of my mother, except Mother’s long hair had been ebon while MayApple’s was purest white.
“I’m going to the forest,” she said. Ninne glowed green then brown and green again, and I knew MayApple would be seeking answers there, in the sacred sanctuary of the Morri.
“What are you going to do?” Yewsy asked quietly after her mother had left the cottage. She stood and took Mint from me, carrying her to her mother’s abandoned chair. She sat and pulled Mint close, as if for comfort. The little atrebud seemed to understand and she wrapped her thin arms around Yewsy’s neck. Their fammies mingled and glowed brightly against the sisters’ white-blonde hair.
“I don’t understand why Brinc clan has become violent. Why they have so little regard for life and magic. How did they come to be this way?” I muttered.
“They say it was a Mother from Prosee join. One who’s gone back to the lake now. She fell in love with a Milesian from the outside,” Yewsy said. She was making faces at Mint, causing her to giggle.
“Outside, outside? A Human? Not just someone from Outlie join?” Why had I never heard this tale?
Yewsy shooed Mint off her lap and came to sit at the table. Brennen was spinning rapidly in excitement. “I overheard Effie and her elder sister talking about it—”
“Effie from Brinc clan?”
“Yes, Resin join. I wasn’t with them, like Pine gathers with Locre, I just overheard them at the edge of the forest when I was collecting green grain. I didn’t mean to go so close to Brinc lands but got turned around onto the wrong path when I crossed over River Finlo. I have no idea why they were having lessons so close to the border but I could hear them clearly.”