Eolyn (8 page)

C
hapter Ten

During the years of their friendship
, Eolyn had learned to anticipate the moment of Achim’s arrival.

Today she waited for him by the river where they first met. Summer was already announcing its approach with warm southern winds. The trees had begun expanding their rose green buds, and flowers unfolded over small patches of lingering snow. The water roared high, and silver fish leapt in its rushing folds.

In the shifting light that filtered through the young canopy, Achim appeared. For the first time he wore the dark green robes of a High Mage Initiate. They blended well with the nascent colors of the spring forest.

Eolyn stood to greet him, only to stop short with a gasp. “What have they done to your hair?”

Achim’s hand went to his head. His thick black locks had been shorn off at the roots. “It was part of the ceremony to become an Initiate.”

Eolyn stared at him in perplexed silence.

“Does it look that bad?” he asked with a grimace.

“No, it doesn’t look bad. It’s just so…different. You had such beautiful hair, Achim. If I had known what they were going to do, I would have thought to touch it the last time you were here.” She stepped toward him. “Will you let it grow back?”

“Yes, I suppose I will. But I am not supposed to until I complete my training.”

Eolyn nodded. She lifted her hand to where his hair used to be, and let her fingers drift to his face. A strange ache ignited in her heart, compelling her to register every detail of his face through touch: his thick brow, his dark eyes, his straight nose and full lips.

Achim went very still, like a deer that had caught the scent of a predator, or a lynx prepared to strike. Tiny sparks seemed to fire between her hands and his skin as Eolyn ran her fingers down his neck and across his shoulders. She wondered what had happened to the boy she first met here on the riverbank. She and Achim had been about the same height back then. She remembered him as lanky in build. When had he grown a full head above her? When had his shoulders assumed this breadth, his arms this strength, his chest this subtle vigor?

Abruptly she stepped back. Heat flushed her cheeks. She looked away. “I…I just hope Ghemena doesn’t do the same thing to me when my time comes.”

Achim blinked. “Do what?”

“Shave my head.” Eolyn fumbled through her pocket and retrieved a small box. “I have a present for you.”

The polished rosewood box fit easily into the palm of his hand. Achim lifted the lid, revealing an interior lined with tiny colored crystals. When the light hit them, a small three-dimensional image of the forest projected into the air, a miniature replica of the grove where they stood, the place where they first met.

“Ghemena helped me,” Eolyn said. They had started crafting the object three years before, when Ghemena told Eolyn she would have to let go of Achim. “I chose the crystals, and Ghemena showed me how to integrate their song. Do you like it?”

“It is breathtaking,” he said.

Eolyn let go an inward sigh of relief. Enthusiasm colored her voice. “It will change according to the seasons. In winter, you will see this place glazed in snow and ice. In summer, it will turn fresh green under the bright sun. I made it so you will always remember this forest, even in the coming years when you cannot return.”

Achim’s expression hardened. He snapped the box closed.

“What do you mean,
not return
?”

Eolyn lowered her eyes.

“You are saying good bye?” he asked.

She nodded.

“Why?”

She looked up at him, confused. “I thought you would remember. Ghemena gave us three years from the time she learned about our friendship. Now I must say good bye to you and dedicate myself to the study of High Magic.”

Achim closed his hand over the small gift and shook his head. “I remember now. But three years! Have they already passed? When you first told me, I thought we had plenty of time to fix things, to make arrangements…”

His voice trailed off at Eolyn’s puzzled expression.

“What did you mean, fix things?” she asked.

He set his jaw and looked into the forest, as if the trees might hold the answer.

“In truth it has been a little more than three years.” Eolyn spoke to fill the silence. “The appropriate time to start my training is in the spring, so Ghemena granted us a few more months until today.”

“Why did you not say anything before now?” he demanded.

“I don’t know! It was just easier not to speak of it, somehow. I thought you would…” A lump in her throat choked off her words.

Achim opened his hand and let the rosewood box float in the air beside them. “So it is decided then. You intend to study High Magic?”

“I begin my fast tomorrow.”

He nodded, his expression stern. Eolyn knew he did not agree with her decision, and for a moment she thought he would ruin their last meeting by starting another argument.

Instead he drew back his sleeve and said, “I would like to give you something to remember me by, as well.”

The symbols embroidered into the fabric of his robe reflected the forest in multiple shades of green. Underneath the folds, Eolyn saw a silver band around his arm. Removing the jewel with care, Achim offered it to Eolyn.

Awed, Eolyn turned the bracelet over in her hands. On the etched surface she recognized multiple forms of Dragon: winged serpent, snake, lion, butterfly, river otter, fish and many others. Each figure blended into the next, creating a single creature as fantastic as imagination itself.

“It’s beautiful,” she breathed.

“It was a gift from my mother.” Achim’s voice broke with quiet emotion. “She gave it to me before she died.”

“Oh, Achim. This is too much for me to accept. If this jewel belonged to your mother, it should stay with you.”

Retrieving the armband gently from her grasp, Achim slipped it over Eolyn’s wrist and moved it just past her elbow. The metal coiled into a perfect fit against her skin. “I would say it was made for you.”

Achim’s hand traveled back down her arm. He caught her fingers in his and studied her for a moment. “I will miss you, Eolyn.”

Then he leaned forward and kissed her.

Caught by surprise, Eolyn hesitated before sinking into the pleasure of his touch. The taste of Achim’s lips was familiar, as if she had always known what it would be like to hold him this close. She loved the scent of polished stone and soft earth that rose up around her. His caress, hesitant at first, gathered confidence. A sense of urgency grew between them, until the unexpected force of their passion ignited a knot of panic inside Eolyn.

Flushed and trembling, she pulled away. Her breath came in gasps, as if the air had been taken from her lungs.

Achim drew her back, wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her hair. His voice was muffled against her thick curls. “Don’t leave me, Eolyn.”

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” she whispered. Tears stung her eyes. “I don’t understand. What has happened?”

“Come back with me. My father is…of some influence at court. I could protect you, even with your knowledge of Middle Magic. I am certain I could. Don’t go down this path. Don’t learn High Magic. Come home with me.”

She pulled away, torn by her own doubts. “Three years I have prepared for this day. It wasn’t supposed to feel like this. I don’t understand what’s happening.”

“Eolyn,” he moved toward her, but she stepped back.

“No, Achim. I have to do this.”

He stopped short, as if she had slapped him in the face.

“I want to learn High Magic more than anything,” Eolyn said, “and Ghemena is the only one who can teach me. If I go back with you, I will never learn any magic again at all.”

Achim stiffened. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, and his eyes turned a shade darker.

“I see,” he said, though it appeared to Eolyn he did not.

“In four years I will finish my training, and then you can come back to visit.” When he did not respond she added awkwardly, “Or I will go forth from these woods to find you.”

“I will find you.” The severity of his tone frightened Eolyn. She could not tell whether his words were meant as a promise or a threat. “I will not rest until I find you again.”

Eolyn searched for something else to say, but if words existed that could cut through this tension between them, they escaped her.

“I suppose I should take my leave then,” she murmured.

A terrible aura had enveloped Achim. Eolyn was reminded of Hawk, how his focus reached its highest intensity just before diving after Fat Dormouse.

“I will miss you, Achim.” Her voice sounded impotent against the shadow of his fury and the pounding of her own heart. She could not bear to have him look at her like that. “I will miss you more than you can know.”

Still Achim said nothing, and Eolyn had no more words for him. Unable to bear the silence any longer, she turned and fled into the forest.

By the time Eolyn arrived at the cottage, a spray of bright stars hung over the meadow. Though her heart was hollow after her parting with Achim, Eolyn found her spirit renewed upon seeing the care her mentor had dedicated to preparing the Initiate’s Feast.

Ghemena had put a table in the garden and spread it with bread, nuts, dried fruits, roasted spring vegetables, pungent Berenben cheese, and a steaming pitcher of hot berry and primrose wine. Floating candles provided pale illumination suited to the shy habits of the Guendes, who had joined them for this special evening.

Ghemena greeted Eolyn with a strong hug.

“Tonight you begin your journey as a woman in magic.” Eyes filled with joy, the old maga held Eolyn’s face in her hands. After some contemplation, she added, “Though I dare say, this is not the only transition you began today. You have had your first kiss.”

The whispery giggles of Guendes floated out of the shadows.

Eolyn flushed. “Is it so obvious?”

“Only to a skilled maga who knows how to read her student’s aura.” Ghemena winked. “The first kiss generates a characteristic spark. If it is a good kiss, that spark grows to reflect the colors of a woman’s aura as a diamond in the sunlight. If it is a poor kiss, the spark fades to make way for the next opportunity. If it is an unwanted kiss, the spark must be treated with magic, or it will collapse into shadows that eclipse the true colors of a woman’s heart.”

“I think it was a good kiss.”

“My dear, it is quite evident you have had a very good kiss.”

“But it was so unexpected. And then I got scared and Achim got angry and I…I don’t know. I ran away like a rabbit from a fox. What if I never see him again? All he’ll remember now is the coward I was in the moment we said good-bye.”

Ghemena beckoned Eolyn to the table, where she served two cups of hot berry wine. “We have spoken often about desire and affection, but no words or illustrations, no stories or exercises, can truly prepare us for this most powerful expression of Primitive Magic. In the old days—in my
Aekelahr
—you would have experienced the awakening of
aen-lasati
this very summer during the High Ceremony of Bel-Aethne. Your lover would have been a mask to you, and you a mask to your lover. This would have freed you from identity, from past and future, from the fear of your own emotions. Your act of passion, your offering to the Gods, would have been bound to the present and therefore eternal.”

Eolyn sipped at her wine. “So I wouldn’t have acted the coward today had I known
aen-lasati
in the same way as the Magas of Old?”

“What I’m saying is that you have special challenges given the circumstances of your training. Learning to dance with passion and desire is one of them.”

“Sometimes I feel my studies aren’t preparing me for anything. Nothing is the way it was before. How can I ever be a maga if the Old Orders aren’t with us? If I can’t even have a proper coven?”

“You must not confuse the form of magic with its spirit. In the end all rites are but symbols of deeper processes. You helped me remember this by demanding creativity in my instruction. Your training will serve you well when you return to Moisehén, precisely because all the old rites have been washed away. As for the coven you so miss, look around, young maga. I dare say such a coven has not been assembled in all the history of magic.”

In that moment, Eolyn became aware of the murmurings in the garden: the chatter of Red Squirrel and the whistle of Wood Thrush; the wet slap of River Otter’s tail and the sharp snap of Turtle’s jaws. Rabbit thumped his foot, Owl gave a throaty hoot, and Giant Moth hovered over the table in lilting flutters. The Guendes chimed in with feathery laughter, and Fat Dormouse darted out of the shadows to steal a bite of cheese.

Ghemena had summoned them all, the many companions of her childhood. All of them except one.

“Achim should be here,” Eolyn said.

“We have already spoken about that, Eolyn.”

“He’s the only true friend I have, and he’s a mage.”

“These, too, are your friends. They have always been with you, teaching you and protecting you.”