AWEN RISING: E8, Chapter Thirteen - Fourteen
Chapters 13-14, Carriage House & Quoth the Raven
Hi there, I’m glad you’re here! You have landed on Episode 8 of Awen Rising. If you are beginning the story, or looking for a different episode, follow the links. Otherwise, you’re in the right place. Read on!
Episode One (Chapters 1 - 3)
Episode Two (Chapters 4 - 5)
Episode Three (Chapters 6 - 7)
Episode Four (Chapter 8)
Episode Five (Chapter 9)
Episode Six (Chapters 10 - 11)
Episode Seven (Chapter 12)
Episode Eight (Chapters 13 - 14)
QUICK REMINDER: The first chapter of my new paid serial, Crossed, Cursed, & Nearly Dead, released on Monday, June 30 (my birthday). This is a spinoff from the Awen Trilogy, featuring well-loved characters alongside many new ones, including the ghost of Sean O’Leary, a murdered GBI agent and the MCs’ nephew.
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Becoming a paid member grants you access to Crossed, Cursed, & Nearly Dead, a free eBook of Awen Rising, and access to my growing archives of my articles. Coming later in July—a character list for Awen Rising to help you keep track of the multiple POVs.
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Chapter 13, Carriage House
The attorney delivered Emily to Wren’s Roost, promising to touch base if her father’s condition changed. Ralph was happy to be out of his travel cage and found a patch of grass near the rear door. He did his business and scurried back to the kitchen in search of food, none the worse for the flight across the country and the crazy-long day.
Too bad Emily hadn’t fared as well.
She opened a can of cat food packed for the trip. The scent of salmon gravy and hungry meows filled the air. Ralph dove face first when the can hit the floor.
“You’ll be fat by the time I make up for this one, huh?” Moist smacking noises were Emily’s answer.
Grateful for Ralph’s familiar presence, she ruffled the cat’s fur and wandered to the front bedroom. She’d chosen the red room, as she had dubbed it, for its freshly-laid fireplace and the view of the forest.
The four-poster bed and flat-screen TV were pluses, though other than WebFlix, Emily hadn’t watched television in years. She unpacked her meager wardrobe and put it away in a chest of drawers.
Curious about her new family, Emily meandered from room to room, delight growing. Antique furniture adorned with lace doilies, glassware, candelabras, and decorative vases filled the carriage house.
Cases held books and objets d'art, chandeliers graced the ornamental ceilings. The walls sported elegant paintings in ornate frames, metal sculptures, and earthen sconces.
As nice as it was, the main house must be impressive indeed.
In the living room, an overstuffed sofa reigned supreme, its aubergine fabric soft and invitingly worn. A cheerful fire crackled in the fireplace. Emily suspected Simon or Mary, of the couple Morgan had mentioned, were responsible. She made a mental note to thank them for the hospitable gesture.
Burnished oak gleamed under Emily’s caress as she ran her fingertips along the intricate pattern of leaves and vines carved into the mantel. She spread cold fingers to the fire and touched the black-enamel screen, expecting it to be hot.
When it wasn’t, she ran her palm over the heavy-gauge metal, enjoying its silken texture and marveling at the artisan’s handiwork. Like many of the furnishings in the carriage house, the screen was a masterpiece. The carved wooden handles matched the mantel, and though it looked quite substantial, lifting the screen to the side took little effort.
She added logs from a nearby rack and used the poker from a matched set. The dry logs caught and blazed, filling the room with the delicate scent of cherry. While Emily worked, Ralph claimed a cushion on the hearth and curled atop it in a purring ball. The pillow looked like it was situated there for just that purpose.
Ignoring a flash of guilt, Emily mumbled, “Cat hair be damned. Love me, love my cat.” Squatting, she buried her face in Ralph’s fur.
He had been the one constant in Emily’s life since she’d rescued the lanky cat from a no-kill shelter. He was Emily’s rock. Her anchor. Her companion. Inured to traveling, Ralph had that feline ability to land on his feet. Where didn’t matter, as long as Ralph was with Emily.
Now, she had parked them in the Bible belt, home of staunch conservatives. They had commandeered the government in Emily’s early years, and set the U.S. up for a war it couldn’t win. Was she loony tunes for coming here?
The events of the day broke over her then, crushing her beneath its weight. What had she done? Why had she come here?
Legs buckling, she sank to the rug on her hands and knees. The anxiety rolled over her in one wave after another, engulfing her in a riptide of fear. She drew a lungful of air and counted to eight before letting it out and sucking in another.
Emily needed air. She needed to run.
Rising, she gave Ralph a squeeze and hurried to the red room to don sweats and jogging shoes. She glanced longingly at the four-poster bed, hoping the run would help her sleep. If that didn’t do it, nothing would.
Zipping her heaviest jacket against the cold night, Emily transferred the Taser from her purse to her inside pocket. Regardless of Wainwright’s assurances, she didn’t know the neighborhood. And dark had descended, despite the early hour.
☼☼☼
Alone in her dressing room, Shalane Carpenter removed an ice mask from the freezer and held it to her face. The spot behind her eye ached like a devil-worm was eating its way through her brain. A quiet knock sounded at the door.
“Go away!”
The knock echoed again, this time more insistent. “Open up, sweetheart. It’s Cecil.”
“Go away, dammit,” Shalane snapped. “All I ask is five minutes. Five lousy minutes, before you or anyone else rushes in to smother me.”
“Five minutes. Gotcha,” her husband said, a bit too thinly. “Better yet, how ‘bout I change and give you fifteen?”
Shame colored Shalane’s answer. “That sounds great, baby. I’ll see you then.” Fumbling in the drawer for the pain pills, she dumped two in her hand and swallowed them dry.
Fetching an Erlanger, she tipped the frosty bottle and guzzled half. Some escaped to dribble down the dimple in Shalane’s chin. Wiping it clean, she collapsed on the sofa and held the ice mask to her eye.
She couldn’t take this pain much longer. If it didn’t end soon, Shalane would either die or kill someone.
Chapter 14, Quoth the Raven
An icy wind slammed into Emily when she stepped outside the carriage house. Squealing, she shimmied and pranced on the landing, then settled into a quick stretch.
The main house loomed in front of her, its impressive outline brooding in the dark. A single light glowed in an upstairs window. The caretakers must retire early.
The hard-pack driveway led past the main house and disappeared in the dense forest. Trees crouched on all sides, looming above the long lane and making the houses invisible to the world. The hardwoods were still mostly bare, but mature conifers provided protection this time of year.
Mitchell was right. The estate was an oasis surrounded by city.
Closing her eyes, Emily leaned into a stretch and focused on the energies swirling around her. The neighborhood’s vibe was calm and quiet, old and rather stately. By contrast, Atlanta’s felt big and bawdy, like Los Angeles had back in its day.
Loose and ready, Emily jogged down the dimly-lit driveway and into the night. She turned right at the road and retraced the route they had followed earlier in the car. A dog barked and Emily crossed the street.
Glowing street lamps provided ample lighting, easing some of her apprehension. She paused at an intersection and looked both ways before loping across. The night was quiet, save her footfall and the city sounds on the periphery.
Houses similar in size to her father’s sat back from the street, yards professionally-lit and landscaped. A few hid behind imposing fences, some with visible garages or carriage houses. But from what Emily could see, none rivaled Wren’s Roost. And none bore a sign of the ravages of marauders or gangs.
The few cars parked on the narrow street were late-model electrics and fission-hybrids. A dog woofed and Emily missed a step, nerves on edge. Another answered from down the street. Why couldn’t the buggers be quiet like cats?
Annoyed, Emily sprinted up a long hill. Despite the chill, her muscles warmed and sweat moistened her brow. The worries of the day melted away as the downhill curved to hug a babbling creek bottom. Halfway up the next hill, she thought of the attorney.
Mitchell Wainwright had been charming at first. She had wanted to like him. But her father’s attorney was an asshole. One that wielded some sort of power over her new family. The Hesters were afraid of Wainwright, and little wonder. The man came across as slightly unbalanced, with an edge of crazy.
A Jeep Traveler lumbered through the next intersection. Emily crossed and settled into a slow rhythm, the city’s pulse thrumming in time to her stride.
Then a raven cawed, sending chills up her spine. The night darkened, and naked tree limbs rattled in a high, icy wind. Eager now to get back to Wren’s Roost, Emily turned and picked up the pace for several blocks. At the creek bottom, a fine mist swirled above the asphalt, dampening her socks.
An owl hooted and her nerves unraveled. Adrenaline surged as Emily peered about for something familiar. She never, ever got lost. But this sidewalk was different, cracked and tilted, the yards overgrown and frightening. The houses were small, shabby boxes, lit by garish streetlights. She had definitely not come this way.
Sheets hung in windows, or rebel flags, or sometimes, nothing at all. A rusty car leered at her from a driveway, and gang symbols scrawled across the cinderblock house in red spray paint.
When a skeletal Rottweiler snarled and leapt at Emily from the end of a chain, she bit back a scream, executed a pirouette her old dancing teacher would be proud of, and sprinted in the opposite direction.
She’d been a fool to run at night in unknown territory. Fumbling for her cell phone, Emily had a sinking realization. She had forgotten to grab it from the charger on the nightstand. Of all the idiotic things. She patted the Taser in her pocket. At least she had grabbed it.
At the top of the hill, the fog disappeared and the neighborhood took a turn for the better. Emily charged toward the glow of gas lanterns, but soon stopped short when the street ended at a lamp-lined avenue.
Ahead was a grassy knoll and an entrance to what appeared to be a park. Emily’s heart pounded as her adrenaline spiked. This was not funny. Tell-tale dots appeared at the edge of her vision. She wheeled in one direction and then the other.
Nothing looked familiar. Houses lined both ends of the avenue, with the park in the middle. Sweat beaded on her forehead, and her exertion-warmed hands turned clammy and cold. How had this happened?
A dog barked. Another bayed in answer. They sounded close.
Desperate, Emily turned in a circle, squinting again in every direction, cursing herself for leaving her iBlast at the house. Then, clamping down on the rising panic, she covered her face with her hands, and tried to retrace her steps in her head.
A wintry wind whistled down the avenue, thrashing bare branches and whipping dead leaves still clinging to a few trees. It rose to a shimmering crescendo, then fell still. In the silence, Emily heard singing.
From deep in the park, voices rose—a woman’s crystalline soprano and a man’s resounding vibrato. She could not make out the words, nor was Emily sure they were even English, but something made her move in the direction of the enchanting song, quest for home forgotten.
The grass gave way to sparse trees, and lanterns sprang to life at Emily’s feet, lighting her way as the woods grew thicker and darker. The wind shrieked past, inciting the dead leaves and dry branches to clatter in a wanton riot, drowning out the song.
Despite that, Emily’s feet drew her onward. Up the rise and down a vale, then up another she marched, following the snatches of song to a summit where the rangy arms of tree skeletons lifted in supplication around the rim of a bowl.
Urgency bloomed in Emily’s chest, as if her life depended upon knowing what was happening down there in the hollow. She crept toward the edge and flattened her belly to the leaf-strewn earth. Then crawling between the trees to peer down, her eyes widened in disbelief.
It was the grove with the silvery birches. In the middle, singers danced around the shimmering fountain.
Emily shivered. She was far from Wren’s Roost, indeed.
☼☼☼
The final hours drew near. Bran the Raven Elder blinked from his perch in the leafless elm. The Awen had finally returned to the magical stronghold of Wren’s Roost.
Precious years had passed since the chosen one’s birth. Long had the rogue druid succeeded in hiding the future Awen, denying the girl her gifts and doing little to prepare her for the task at hand. If the druids were to succeed in stopping the Darkness, that must end now. She must awaken. Or else.
To that end, Bran had resorted to magic and trickery. He had lured the new Awen to the rite hastily assembled in the birch grove. Here, the Animal Elders—the collective receptacles of the Awen’s memories and magical powers—would confer them upon her.
Bran spread ancient wings to circle the clearing, swooping low over the initiates to settle on the lip of the sparkling fountain. Then, facing the once and future Awen, Bran the Blessed summoned the animal Elders.
Magic pulsed through the clearing and smoldered in the hills, thrumming to the synchronic beat of the drums. One by one, the Elders appeared—Shevug the falcon, Primus the lion, Cu the wolfhound, Muc, Torc, Cat, Tarv, Faol, E-ach, Corr, Art, Ron, Dobhran, and myriad others. All but the dragons did Bran muster; they answered only to the Awen and themselves.
The ghostly animals surrounded the dancers, filling the sacred space with their collective magic. It rose into the night like a veil that enshrouded the clearing, sealing the participants within a magical world invisible to prying eyes.
☼☼☼
From her vantage point atop the hill, Emily watched the performers. In a semicircle around the couple, fifteen robed figures chanted and swayed to a drum pulsing from an unseen source.
A raven whooshed past, drawing her gaze as it circled the clearing and landed on the fountain. The maiden’s song continued, low and sweet and haunting. The male’s tenor answered, a deep, dulcet tone of longing and need.
Tears sprang to Emily’s eyes, and sadness filled her until she was one big throbbing ache.
☼☼☼
The drums beat faster. The couple whirled, feet flying above the ground. When the dancers were little more than a blur, Bran cawed, a loud shriek that split the night.
Magical light halos emanated from Bran and the other Elders. Their hums, hisses, chatter, and roars joined forces as their individual spells coalesced into a silvery mass that swirled overhead.
When it completely covered the hollow, a thin channel formed at the bottom of the mass, a silver cord spiraling like the tail of a cyclone. Searching, it found the woman on the rise and attached to her, anchoring deep into her psyche. Then, with a flash of lightning, the Awen’s memories and magical powers poured into the waiting vessel.
☼☼☼
Longing pierced Emily’s heart. She watched, caught in the play being enacted on the grass below. Only she was the girl. And it wasn’t a play. She was wise and ancient, yet young and fair of face. The man was dark and ruggedly handsome.
Drawn together by some irresistible force, they melted into one. Conscious thought fled as they whisked away on a steed of black night. Through an inky sky they flew, memories flashing before them in kaleidoscopic fragments. A blazing fire. A white thin robe. Soft fur pelt. Thunder crashing. A coupling, wild and passionate. Then suddenly, violently, they were ripped apart.
Unable to hold the vision any longer, Emily’s eyes flew open. Where the initiates had danced, a multitude of ghostly animals gazed upwards—at her. The raven stood in their midst.
Recoiling, Emily hid her face in the leaves. She must be seeing things. But when she peeked again, the animals were still there.
One by one they bowed to Emily, then disappeared. When they had all departed, the raven cawed and took flight, and the moon disappeared behind a cloud.
The dark settled, leaving Emily shivering in the eerie woods.
~ To be continued in Episode 9, Chapter 15, Lost and Found.
From my heart to yours, Olivia/O. J.
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