The scent of fresh baked bread filled the small cottage. Warm and homey and welcoming, the woman smiled to herself as she took a deep breath. Yes, this is what she had longed for, what she had thought wound be forever denied to her by destiny and her own cowardice. She looked around the cottage, surrounded by simple, delicate touches. A hand knitted quilt, a few beloved books, a flowering plant in a pot by the open window. So different then the hardscrabble life she had first known in Aughaire, or the corrupt and brutal luxury of Angmar. Angmar. Why did her mind fly there today? Why did she suddenly feel the grim presence of the silver toothed Deacon hovering on her shoulder.
She paused for a moment..and felt it…time distorting and coursing like water from a blocked stream. That would account for it. She was meddling and was expecting herself to solve a problem another her had encountered. Her smile fled….and she took the break out of the stone oven. Now she knew why she had made extra. As it cooled, she began slicing several ripe tomatoes, and made sure the butter crock was filled, and put the kettle on the fire. She paused for a moment, then prepared a second plate of tomatoes and cheese and set it aside. Finchley will want that after…but first, she would have guests for tea.
Outside, the voice of the girl rang high and clear across the grasses. She had just leaped the broken stone fence in a bound, which the old woman had told her not to do 572 times. Soon it would be 573, but she would not be heeded for another 16 months, when the girl would crack her wrist leaping the fence after having been told 864 times and need to wear a splint for 7 weeks. Children today never listened.
"Grams....Grams I DID IT...all the way to the fifth branch...I saw the whole valley....It was BEAUTIFUL!!!” Finchley was ecstatic as she stood in the open door, leaves in her hair, blood dripping down her forearm from a torn elbow. If her tunic and leggings had been clean she would have ruined them, but they weren’t, so she hadn’t. This girl wore nothing that was not the color of dirt, dried blood or grass stains for a reason.
She knew she should be stern. Five years old was old enough for her to calm down and lean to bake, and sew, or spend her days reading by the fire…but looking at Finchley, old Moyna smiled broadly "Well, then how nice for ya you will have a scar ta remember it...silly little nit, you have chores and it seems I will have business ta attend to. Put this on yer arm and see to the chickens.' She passed her a poultice soaked in mint and athelas she had had the urge to prepare the night before, and a basket full of seed.
'The child tumbled back out of the cottage, carrying the basket. “Thank you Grams…we are having bread and tomato for tea? WONDERFUL I AM STARVING TO DEATH.” She paused to fill the basket from the big bag near the pen and walked toward the coop, calling out a series of names. "HEY Lulu, Fuzzbutt, Piggy, Cyclops, Ranger girl, Princess.....I got food for ya....yummy yummy seeds and stuff...." She thought for a moment, not wanting to lie, and tasted the seeds surreptitiously then made a face..."Ok...I have some really nasty seeds for you but you seem to like them….'
The girl had walked right past three figures standing in the yard, looked confused and angry. Two women, one an angry redhead, the other dark-haired and seemingly in shock. With them, a large man with the feel of the woods about him. The child had not seen them, and they would have thought they were dreaming if not for the look exchanged between them. The old woman called from inside the cottage. "Well...come on..you've travelled a powerful long way, what's a few more feet? Come on in...ya must be hungry. I’ve just set down tea….”
Catalinna looked toward the cottage and then toward Gwyn and Dar to confirm they heard the voice it as well.
Dartanius glanced to Cat. "I am...still trying to figure out what is happening. Last I knew we were investigating a poor old woman’s grave, then I had all sorts of strange daydreams about people I don’t know…and then we are here. What’s all this about?"
Catalinna grimaced, 'It's the old bat's tricks...' and without another thought, she walked towards the open door.
Gwyndolith sighed quietly "Cat...Please. Take a moment to think first... It's a memory."
Catalinna shook her head, 'This ain't no memory of mine.'
Gwyndolith says, 'No, it isn't….but it must be someone’s'
'So what are we supposed to do in this...memory?' Dartanius asked.
Gwyndolith shrugged a little "Watch... Wait... See how the child didn't even react? We may not really be here at all. Perhaps if we stay quiet and still we will wake up again none the worse for wear."
The voice came from the cottage again. "Well? How long can ya stay quiet and still anyway? Come on...I ain’t likely ta bite...'
Dartanius glanced at Gwyn sympathetically and stayed close to Cat, intending for the moment to follow her lead.
Catalinna was nearly to the door. He glanced around to make sure that there was no one else Moyna could be speaking to. She muttered to herself in her own inward response to Dar's question, "What do we do in this memory? Pluck the old bat's wings until she sings..."
As they entered, the old woman Cat and Gwyn had seen from a distance some weeks before was slicing hot bread with a dirk that looked like it would be more at home on a warriors belt then in a some granny’s kitchen. A plate of sliced cheese and tomatoes was already set out and they could smell the hot tea waiting in the steaming pot.
The woman poured, looking up at them, smiling. Her steel hair was tied back in a messy bun. 'Come in and sit a spell...I would wager we don;t have much time...' She looked at Cat for a long moment. "Oh my stars...you're one a Rohina's girls...so my granddaughter…”
Catalinna nodded harshly, 'Then you know that I'm not about to sit...'
The woman laughed...a warm, genuine laugh. "True enough...but take some bread...I imagine your two friends here could use a bite at least'
Gwyndolith blinked a bit "What?" she said softly to herself.
Catalinna spat out her questions while waving a hand to the offer of bread. "What's the Witchfire? What's the dance of life?... And what does any of it have to do with that which sleeps inside that child?" She pointed towards the chicken coop, having recognized the child as the woman she had met as an adult.
Dartanius stood his ground, crossing his arms across his chest as he listened to the exchange take place.
Gwyndolith leaned in closer to Dart "We need a way out... Just... Keep an eye out for something amiss."
Dartanius nodded at Gwyn without moving the rest of his body.
The woman laughed again. "Well...you are quite a ways along I see....well, lets see. The Witchfire? It is the power of a witch, whatever you think that may be...it is more than anything, a desire to do good, to move everything forward…To continue the Dance of Life...which you see and feel all around you...'
Catalinna took in a deep breath, she had expected this kind of nonsense. "Your words are vague and suggest that many might be a witch and wield this 'Witchfire'."
The woman nodded as if Cat had just said something wise. 'Indeed, many might if they choose to be....the Witchfire changes depending on what we each seek to do with it and it passes from mother to daughter. It passed from me to Rohina..and Rohina to you. Or it would have if it still existed.”
She sighed and continued. 'As for the child...and her cursemark....that is a more complex question whose answer may not be wise to give as of yet, but I swear, you will know all when the time is ripe.'
Catalinna walked up to Moyna and pulled back her left sleeve to move aside the bracelets which covered the pale golden compass star on her wrist. "If many might according to what they wish if this Witchfire still existed, then why am I marked? And why do I keep having a dream of you and my mother in a room full of other women saying, 'It is you.'?"
The woman looked at Cat. "You dream..and bear the mark of our Order, because you are the fruit of my pride...the fruit of my foolishness...you are that which must right what I have wronged. I was tired...I was heartbroken....I was old....and I took an offer I never should have, simply to set aside my sins.'
Catalinna snarled, 'And why should I take on YOUR burden? You never had anything to do with me. Grandmother? Don’t make me laugh…you are nothing but a stranger!'
The old woman did not seem to notice Cat’s rage, 'Because if you do not take on my burden....an unspeakable horror will be left to wander the world....'
Catalinna turned away, sweeping the plate of cheese and tomatoes onto the floor with her arm, making a terrible mess in the snug little kitchen, 'Bah!.... And how am I to fix it, hm? Sacrifice myself so that the one you took in, the one you loved when you did not love my mother or my sister or me, can live!!??'
Moyna took a bite of bread and set the other plate of cheese and tomatoes on the table calmly, just as she had seen that she would need to. "No...no sacrifice will be required of you...but it will put you in danger. Terrible, terrible danger. Of course, if you are here, you know you are ALREADY in danger.”
Gwyndolith listened and clenched a hand into a fist, growing agitated "You threw your child... And your child's children to the wolves for this... Speak clearly! Hell... Since everything seems to be connected it may well have had something to do with the suffering I went through as well!'
The old woman looked at Gwyn, sorrow in her aged eyes. "Aye...that I did...I didn’t mean to....but I did...since only after did I realize the mistake I made and your children suffered for my mistake, as did my own child...and her child...and her child. But all we can do, is try to right what went wrong...the best we can. As for your lot in life...trouble is often like water, trickling down, many rivers, into a torrent....” Moyna looked seriously at Gwyn. "They can still be saved, your children..but time is short and you must be strong and face their rage.”
Gwyndolith blinked and froze up "W-What? What do you know of?" she trailed off shocked.
Catalinna 's eyes widened as she thought back over what Moyna had said. Her own child had suffered, and her child….and HER child. "Wait.. What do you know about the boy?"
Moyna looked back at Cat. "What I know of the boy does not matter....but you must know this. All that happened was the work of MAN, one man in specific under the mastery of others. The Deacon of the Last Breathe....and he works even now against you...he deceived me, he destroyed and enslaved your mother, he broke your path, and he doomed the boy's shadow to his service. Fear him...but know you have the power to vanquish him...and that he KNOWS that you have it.”
The old woman suddenly seemed so much greater and older and more powerful then the soft hearted Breeland grandmother she seemed to be, 'You MUST restore the Witchfire...to save all you know...and all you never came to know...'
Catalinna was now silent as the visions of the nightmares she had been having of the ambush and the man that ordered the boy's death, his sinister voice and laughter, flood her mind; she stared at Moyna, mouth agape.
'One of you must do it....and the task has fallen to you, Catalinna, daughter of Rohina, Daughter of Moyna, Daughter of Farinel, Daughter of Finchley…' Moyna looked down as she spoke the names of Cat’s ancestry like a prayer.
Catalinna blinked back to cognition. "How can I restore something when I don't even know what it is?" she whispered, more to herself then Moyna.
Dartanius hid his confusion well as he tried his best to follow along with what he was hearing. Gwyndolith however looked at the old woman with a hard gaze "What do you know of my children?"
Moyna smiled sympathetically at Gwyn. "Little...save this....they are old wine in new bottles, and you are the devil that haunts their dreams. You must win them back, or they will be your doom as well as their own Even now they hound you, bred on lies and cold despair.'
Suddenly all three of them would begin to feel lightheaded and a bit tired. Their time here was coming to an end.
Gwyndolith pinched the bridge of her nose "Old wine in new bottles? Speak plainly... If I have little time don't leave it..." she was cut off by that lightheaded feeling.
Moyna nodded, 'Yes, Time is fleeting...Catalinna...seek out the Chalice Without Mercy, in the deep domain of King Arvedui...seek out the answer to the riddle ‘When is a king not a king, and why’? When you have the chalice, and the answer...you will know what must be done. To accomplish that, seek out the Last Lion....the Stranded Sisters. Seek out the woman from the child, the bearer of the mark...the daughter of my heart. Help her...and let her help you.'
Catalinna gritted her teeth at those last words.
The old woman turned to Dar, 'As for you, man of the wilds...be strong...you will be tested, but if you have the courage of your convictions you will win through...but beware, the stories of your youth were not all true...and those that were false may kill you. Look for the mark of Shadow, the Unexpected....your road lies through that which should never have been.'
Gwyndolith glared at the woman "Riddles... I always hated riddles."
The woman nodded, 'Yes, but riddles you must have. Go now...with my regrets and my love, for what it is worth...more depends on you than you know…but one last warning...you will be betrayed by that which you least expect...but in that betrayal, more will become clear, if you survive it.''
Catalinna looked Moyna straight in the eyes, "I already have been betrayed..."
Moyna shook her head gently, 'Nay, Catalinna, daughter of my sunburnt child....I did not betray you...I failed you. There is a difference. It seems our line is doomed to fail our children.'
All at once, the world seemed to slowly slip away , their vision obscured as if falling through clouds. Somewhere far away they heard the voice of the girl again. “Awwww…Grams, did you drop another dish? There is food all over the floor.”
They heard Moyna’s voice, gentle and soothing, suddenly sounding so much older. “I fear I must have Finchley…but that’s all right, you will clean up my messes….all of them in due time. In due time.”
Suddenly, all three of them woke on the grass of the Bree cemetary as dawn broke...they had been sleeping peacefully, huddled together like kittens around the grave they had been digging up to investigate…Moyna’s grave.'
Dartanius got up to his feet looking around the area. "What was that?"
Gwyndolith shot up clearly frustrated "Really? Are you kidding me?"
Catalinna no longer looked to be angry, in fact it was rare that anyone ever saw her in such a state. She calmly stood, though she was not wearing her usual impish grin, and looks around to see if there was work to be done covering the grave.
Gwyndolith let out a shout of anger just to relax "Well... We have one thing... She spoke of Arvedui, so we must have to go to Fornost."
Catalinna took in a deep breath and nodded toward Gwyn. "So it seems." She dug into her bag and brought out the bit of paper that strange elf had left in her gear the last time they had been in this cemetery. Perhaps she was The Last Lion the old woman had mentioned. The paper said when she was ready to get back in touch, simply to burn the note. Perhaps it was time to finally light this fuse…
