Whispers of Fate: Part 3

Part 3

Snowfall tugged away at the smoke flowing into the white sky as if it were using the very ash to cover the jagged peaks. Natalie sat, wrapped in her rough cotton blanket, watching the weather work its own form of magic. Much like witches, the weather too followed rules set out before it by the gods themselves. However, the weather was under no one's control yet was predictable in its abilities. The witches, while remaining under Ashallalah’s control, knew not of what they were entirely capable of. This lack of knowledge tended to railroad them into their various ways. Some witches only used their abilities to grow luscious underground gardens against nature itself, some used it as a form of intense combat through lightning and shields like that around the coven itself. Others use it in manners that benefit all by becoming conduits for ancient knowledge so that they may be like their ancestors, even a form of time acceleration utilized as healing magic was highly used. 

Natalie had never once touched magic, she was still considered too young to begin her learning. Only twelve, she was a simple faeling, a casual observer of magic and nothing more. This was the position she had taken up here in this cave: a casual observer of the Bangle of The Moon. Yet, nothing had occurred. Ten days and not a single glimpse of anything supernatural besides the ambient glow the bracelet held at night and a faint hum that it let out when exposed to the moonlight. It was no use in keeping her dry, in keeping the cave warm, or in distracting her from the snow falling outside the fire’s reach.  

It was upon this thought that her eyes turned to the silver bracelet resting a few feet away from the edge of the blanket. For a very long time she stared as if she were daring it to make a move, to do anything at all.

When her gaze was only met with silence, she moved impulsively and threw the bangle out of the cave and into the snow. When she could see it no longer through the darkness and the gale, Natalie stubbornly laid her head down and forced her eyes to close. 

Natalie was never really one for dreams yet here she was pushing through the haze of slumber to find herself standing in the living room of a small house, her house, the one in the outskirts of London. Well, it used to be her house but now it was no home. 

Despite it all being a dream, the details felt all so sudden and so real in her eyes. The crackle of the fireplace, the creak of the front door, and the smell of copper that filled her nostrils. No, not copper. She looked down and her hands were red, a deep living red that covered the floor around a figure curled up in the center: her mother. 

Oh, mother. Why mother? Why did you do it? Do you not love me, mother? What about my brother? You loved him more than anything, why couldn’t you love me? Why?

The door closed and, into the room, stormed her father, drunk as usual. He wasn’t there for the tears, he wasn’t there for her mother choking a small girl of her small breaths, and he wasn’t there when the girl fought back. No, he only saw a young hand wrapped around a dull knife and the red, that terrible terrible red. Then it was him screaming the questions. Screaming accusations. Screaming profanity. It was his shouts that drove her to run. To run farther than anyone would know. To run from him, from herself. It was in her mindless sprint that she was met by a pair of cloth covered arms, a warm and welcome oasis in the fury of her mind. 

She looked up but was met by a face she could not place. A beautiful face with a long nose and high cheekbones. Was this someone she knew? Perhaps someone she had seen in passing. Then, in a voice that seemed to come from above the world, from above the dream itself, she heard the face speak.

“You ran. Why?”

The words of the woman shook Natalie from her light sleep and placed her back into the now dark cave. The fire had extinguished leaving only the cold and a bright unnatural light at her side. 

Looking out, past the rocks, she could see the origin of the light laying in the snow beyond. It was then that the woman’s voice spoke again. 

“Are you afraid of something, child?”

Too tired to speak through any decorum, Natalie answered in ernest. “Yes, I am scared. Who are you?”

“I am someone you have known for a long time, yet I have known you even longer. I am the twinkle of the stars in the soul of every human being. I am the wind in the night sky that flows through each prayer you whisper in your mind. I will walk beside you as you live and eventually hold your hand as you die. I am-”

“Ashallalah, you are her, are you not?”

Shivering in the wind, Natalie trudged toward the glow. Taking the bangle in her freezing hands, she pulled herself back into shelter, the silver warming her whole body. Once it had been laid in its pool of rapidly melting snow, Natalie bowed deep to the ground. “I apologize, my goddess, for abandoning you in the cold. For doubting you at all, it will never happen again. I shall punish myself in accordance with Mother Isa’s ideals.”

Drawing back to her full height, Natalie raised her left arm and slapped her wrist as hard as she could. Then again. As she raised it a third time, Ashallalah’s voice stopped her from lowering her hand. “Punish yourself no more, young one. You need not be hurt for doing that which is aligned with my wishes.”

Confused, Natalie sat down on her bed roll. “W-what do you mean? I disrespected your bangle, I left you out in the snow, I doubted you. I- I-”

“Indeed, you have. Such spirit is why you have been chosen. The others of your order would have never done such behaviour. The very fact that you have proved my choice to be correct.”

“Well,”

Natalie crossed her legs and slung the blanket over her back. “Why is that such a good thing? If the others wouldn’t have done it, why did you want someone that would?”
Ashallalah laughed, the sound of silver bells. “To put it simply, you have a free will. The others would have revered me, put me beside the fire, perhaps they would have even burned food to offer to me. You cast me out. You grew tired and frustrated and threw me into the snow. I needed just that. Despite all of their efforts, the witches stride too far from divinity to the point where they tread around it as if it would hurt them to be near it. You, Natalie, are different. As a young witch, you have not been tainted by ancient ideology and pretentious rituals. I simply could not have anyone stuck in the old ways leading my chosen coven into a new age. Your willingness to be abrasive with the gods and willingness to throw divinity into the wind shows me that you are just that person.”

Natalie searched her palms for meaning but found none. “But how am I supposed to do all of this when I know no magic? If you were to pick anyone, you should have picked someone with the ability to do anything you wish, not me.”

“No, I made no mistake in picking you. You needn’t fret, you will learn. Soon, soon. Now, rest my child. Tomorrow is a new day, a glorious dawn awaits beside a new beginning for both of us.”

Natalie, laying back down upon her bedroll, allowed her eyes to close once more. Beside the bed was the woman from her dream, a soft hand gently stroking her hair. 

Natalie looked up for just a moment and went to say something but the woman signalled her to be quiet. “There will be time enough for words later. I promise that no more dreams will plague you tonight, my child. Just rest.”

Isa started at a knock on her door. Setting aside her quill and pad of paper with a half finished drawing of a deer, she addressed the unexpected visitor. The tall figure of Sister Halasi entered and promptly shut the door behind her. 

“Take a seat, Halasi, you look troubled.”

Although Halasi had not removed her mask, Isa knew her own biological sister well enough to read the most discreet tilt in her head and the slump in her shoulders. Taking a small pitcher off the desk, she poured a cool glass of water for both her and the distraught witch. Grateful for the perceptiveness of Isa, Halasi gently removed the wooden mask, placing it upon the desk in front of her. From behind its owl face, long gray hair flowed down her robe, framing a shockingly youthful face. As she began to sip at the water, Isa took her seat once again. “What brings you to me during the time of your duties?”

When the cup had been emptied, Halasi turned her worried gaze. “I am worried, Isa. I am worried about Natalie. She was just a girl, a young one at that.”

“I understand, I too have thought much about her.”

Halasi began to fiddle with her thumbs in her lap, as if she was a child confessing breaking the family vase to her mother. “I am plagued with thoughts of doubt. Are you certain that it is her that was chosen?”

“Aye, I have thought about this a great deal, as well. Yes, I am quite certain, unfortunately. If nothing else, Ashallalah is absolute. I saw her face, her name was spoken.”

Isa sighed and poured another glass. “Despite all my searching and prayers, I sadly remain certain that she was chosen. However, I-”

Before she could finish her thought, a far more powerful voice overcame her. She bent over in agony, glass shattering on the ground. For a moment, she looked up at Halasi with fear in her eyes. Just as Halasi moved from her seat, Isa’s vision fully dimmed.

Into her mind was thrust the visage of an enormous being, a beast of great proportion that towered over any mortal man, bursting through the ceiling of the coven. It proceeded to shake off the dust and began to run through the halls, its broad shoulders shaking the walls as it barrelled toward her. Just as it began to reach for her, she was laying on the ground of her quarters, Halasi bent over her, a sisterly worry in her eyes. 

“Are you alright? Are you hurt? What is wrong?”

Isa, with the help of Halasi, sat back up on the ground. Rubbing her temples trying to fully wake, she struggled to organize her muddled thoughts. “I have been… given a vision. We will be attacked by something. Some… beastly creature. A bear, no- wolf. A wolf.”

The image of the wolf’s blood lusted eyes drew sickness from her stomach.

“Vampires? This simply is not possible, not with our shield always being maintained.”

Isa shook her head. “Twas no vampire. No, no, something different. Something so much worse. I sensed Mol’s hand in this, the whole vision reeks of death.”

Halasi helped her sister into the chair and knelt by her side. “Do you really believe the god of death will really launch an assault on us directly? When?... When, so that we may be ready?”

Isa stared at her drawing, contemplating her messy pen strokes. Truly, it was chaos on her page. “I do not know. Months, days. I know not when but that I know this: it is imminent. Tell… tell everyone to be vigilant. Be prepared to evacuate all fledglings and faelings if possible, send letters to all covens  in northern Europe by pigeon, tell them to stand ready for their arrival if the need arises. Notify the rest of The Circle this: the day of reckoning is soon to be upon us, Ashallalah has made it known.”

Halasi nodded dutifully, shaking hand returning her mask to her face. “What shall I do about Natalie?”

“She may be the only one of us that is truly safe. Make it so, Sister and pray that we will make it through this together.”

The stone wall ran underneath thin fingers for just a moment before returning to Drysi’s side. She quite enjoyed her daily walks around Lorrington. Sometimes Kestrel would even join her but often he was too busy but not so much that he didn’t at least have dinner with her. 

It had been two weeks since she came to the castle and already it felt more like home than anywhere else she had lived. More than her old house, more than the whole nation of Wales, perhaps more than her own skin. 

During this time, her fear of Kestrel had faded away. His ways were odd but all aristocrats were. He was an interesting man. He may be reserved, but it was this very fact that made him interesting. His habits were also strange. Drysi’s sleep schedule had been flipped by his rest during the sun and his activities during the moon. He had explained that vampires would become weak if they worked during the day. He said it was ok if she slept during the night but she insisted on changing to match her caretaker. The transition itself had been difficult at first but now she felt like she was starting to adjust properly and was happier for it. 

Often at dusk, Kestrel would wake up and begin doing his various activities, most of which were paper work for his citizens in the city of Cambridge below, other times he would attend to his army. 

When dawn eventually came, he educated Drysi on all manner of things. One morning, he would teach her how to read English, another he would teach history. The history he taught was that of Lorrington and the witches in London.

“Now, Lorrington was once the property of a great queen named Gwendolyn. When she eventually grew old with no heir, she gifted it to my father who ruled for many years. When it came time for him to pass away, he grew afraid of death. In this fear, he travelled far and wide in search of a cure for his imaginary illness. Eventually, he came across a witch in London, a witch, much like those who cursed you to walk the Earth as a wolf. She offered immortality but what she didn’t mention was the cost. A moment too late to turn back, she cursed him to always thirst for blood and crave the flesh, a curse he passed on to his whole kingdom. Blah… Blah… Blah…”

Well, she knew he didn’t really say blah blah blah but she had begun to doze off at that part, this was still early into her changing sleep schedule and was dead tired. However, her brain had held on to the main points and, sooner than she had realized, she found herself enraged at a group of witches she had never met. A coven. Kestrel said that a group of witches was called a coven. She was enraged at a coven she had never met. 

Looking up at the highest tower, Drysi wondered when their time would come to undo the wrongs. A part of her grew frustrated at Kestrel and Quail’s lack of action but, as they have told her many times now, she will be patient.

Returning inside, she was informed at the door that Kestrel would not be eating dinner with her this morning. At first she found herself profoundly disappointed at his absence. Was she not important enough to set aside even a bit of his busy day for? But her feelings quickly dissolved into a sense of excitement. What if he was finally taking action?

“There, my lord, that is the old hag Isa’s ant hill resting, waiting, right in the middle of the city. Like a mouse in a trap. There will be no getting away from us this time.”

Quail’s good arm pointed down at the Royal London Cemetery from atop the newly reconstructed London Bridge, enhanced eyes highlighting every detail of the long off cemetery. 

“Indeed, they have closed themselves in. How many troops can you spare for this final raid, Quail?”

Kestrel ran his hand across the rough stones of the bridge allowing his fingers to fall into every groove. 

“Well, presuming we maintain the police force of Cambridge, and the standard Lorrington defenses… I believe we can spare about twenty thousand men. Do you think this will be enough?”

Quail turned back to see Kestrel with determination in his eyes. “Yes, yes I do. Take note, this will be the order of events which will occur in ten days.”

Scrambling with a pen and the notebook which now lay on his lap, Quail did as his master said and began to write down every word.

“There will be two divisions of ten thousand soldiers. Each one will take up a position surrounding the cemetery. The wolf will be sent in to break the barrier alongside the first division to create a distraction for it.”

Quail looked up. “My lord, shall I go with the first division as well?”

Kestrel shook his head and rested his hand on his dagger at his side. “No, you will be leading the second division. Once the first has gone through, you will move in the second half to clean up the mess. Had this not been in the middle of a city, I would have you all charge at once. But, be it as it may, we will have to do this in stages to avoid congestion. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, and when will this all occur?”

Kestrel sighed. “I said in ten days, you ignoramus. At midnight, in ten days of course, our forces will move in. Do you have any other idiotic questions or have I made myself clear?

Quail quickly nodded, not wishing to incur Kestrel’s wrath again. 

“Good. Now, I believe I have missed dinner with the wolf. So, if you will excuse me, I have a mind to cultivate.”

Before Quail could say another word, the man who had been standing beside him was only his shadow. He took a deep breath and began to mumble to himself. “Why does he always have to be like this? Why couldn’t he have been more courteous, like his father.”

He shook his head and became a raven, squawking his grievances through the approaching dawn as he flew home once more.