Somewhere deep in Finchley’s despair, a firm, rich voice whispered. “Finally…NOW you are ready. NOW she who was once Fayna of Aughaire and became Aganalu, Priestess of The Mandate Infernus and one day Queen of Angmar shall be REBORN in you.”
Catalinna lay dead at their feet, Sable swooning, gripping her head as Fincley, Xandilif and Nethrida stared down the long, torch laden throne room. From the far end, his form barely visible in the flickering torches, a young boy laughed. The laughter would cut Finchley deep, and she would fall, struggling not to faint.
The voice in her head said. “Get up...'
Finchley blinked and then sort of half lifted her head to look around.
The voice continued. 'You heard me...get up....if you stay here you'll soon be dead and of no use to me.'
Finchley looked incredibly confused but eventually got up on her two feet, dusting herself off a bit. "... No use to you? I don't know if I like the sound of that."
The voice chuckled softly. “That's better....you are going to have to get through this....I can’t have you being stupid on principal like your mother was, or worse, flinching back from the moment as your father did. You will have to face this, but don’t worry, I will help you when I must.”
Finchley was now even more confused but also angry. She looked around the space, trying to search for the source of the voice she heard in her head. Both Lif and Nethrida seemed to be facing their own struggles, while Sable had pulled herself to her feet, still holding her head. "You take that back. And... I'm not going to be of use to anyone unless I say so. Who are you?"
The voice ignored her question, and her anger. 'If you die here then no-ones plans will work out....and while that may be an amusing sort of situation, for you to die here will be especially ironic for me, and I refuse to look the fool.'
Finchley crossed her arms, still looking about the room. The flickering torches just seemed to continue multiplying but threw very little light against the shadows. "Who said anythin' about me dyin' here? I wasn't plannin' on it." She thought a bit, wondering what Addie would say in her place. "So uh... now you really do look like the fool. But, since you won't say who you are, then maybe tell me how to not die then?"
The voice sighed. 'Who I am doesn’t matter which of course is why your small brain is obsessed with it...and you already know at any rate....You are going to need to confront my creation, and beat him at his own game....but you have laid the groundwork for that already and when the moment is ripe, I will take over and guide you through.'
Finchley looked toward the boy at the far end of the throne room. "Your creation? Him?"
The vice sounded as if it nodded. 'Him....Arazakan.'
Finchley shivered. "Just like Robin said..." She took a deep breath and then let it all out before nodding. "Fine. But I ain't doin' this to help you. I ain't about to let my friends die here either." She put one foot in front of the other and made her way toward the far end of the throne room, stepping over bones.
The voice sighed again, 'Lets get this over with quickly....no dawdling.'
Finchley looked very much like she was about to slap someone but didn't. Instead, she set her jaw and took one step after another over the endless amount of bones as she practically stomped her way up to the front of the throne room towards the boy. "I'll show you dawdling..." she muttered.
Standing beside Finchley, Nethrida would be absolutely certain that everything was hopeless...but then she remembered how it felt when she shattered that man's sword. Nethrida blinked a few times. The crushing sensation of despair and guilt abated as she felt the power and confidence of that moment in her veins, and in a moment her eyes grew sharp, fiery. The sensation of pride and might she felt upon seeing her blade smash the blade of the enemy returned to her when she needed it the most. She gritted her teeth. “I am a knight bachelor of Elendil’s Vanguard and a warrior of Tol Lochul. I will not meet my end in this place.
Nethrida nodded and pushed herself foreward to follow after Finch, holding her sword half at the ready "Finch... Wait... Dont go at it alone..." she called out. Her voice hadn’t quite regained it's usual strength but it was enough.
Leaning on her sword, the point of SilverWand driven into the cold stone, Xandilif looked around warily. She remembered a chamber much like this long ago, filled with the unquiet dead and those who were too powerful to truly die. She remember facing them, her body and mind and very life all in tatters, overwhelmed with grief but too angry to give up. She also remembered wresting SilverWand from the cold dead hands of an ancient king, and all that happened afterwards.
The Champion of the Azure Faithful spat as she watched Finch move forward as if driven by an unseen voice. “What else have I got to feckin’ lose…” she muttered and then laughed darkly, following Finchley, dragging the point of her sword along the floor behind her with a rasp.
Behind the trio as they advanced, Sablelinna saw nothing beyond her blind rage and resentment. Things were supposed to be better now. A fierce throbbing pounded behind her eyes, her face was red and she bounced back and forth from foot to foot, hardly noticing the lights around her. 'He said she deserved it' she muttered to herself, 'That she betrayed me, and once I did what he asked everything would be safe.'
Suddenly she remembered hanging by her wrists, she rubbed where the rope cut into them. The flaring pain in her side from the hot brand, from the fire searing into her skin. The face in front of her telling her of Cat's betrayal and how she killed their mother.
Realizing the trio had left her behind she staggered after them, her bow and a few loose arrows still clenched in her blood streaked hands.
-
As the quartet advanced towards the laughing boy, elsewhere, Catalinna, open her eyes....as someone was holding a teacup down to her.
Leaning over her, Moyna tsked softly. "Drink this...you'll feel better dear.'
Cat blinked a few times and looked around. Her hand moved to her chest by instinct, but she did not find an arrow sticking out of it, which she found to be a pleasant surprise. Her eyes immediately locking on the teacup, but she didn’t take it. Hearing Moyna speak to her, Cat pulled herself out from underneath the teacup and shook her head like a little girl. 'I ain't drinkin' nuthin'...''
As she became more aware of her surroundings, Cat felt a warm breeze and heard the soft buzz of conversations, several in fact, going on around you.'
Moyna smiles, her wizened face suddenly seeming younger. “Not drinking? Well that is something I rarely hear you say dear....go on, it is just tea.'
Cat snorted. “Exactly, it's tea... If you were offerin' stout or shine, it might be a different story.''
Moyna chuckled. "That's better...perhaps elderberry wine later, but now tea...humor your grandma, child.”
Catalinna slowly became aware that she was surrounded by women, perhaps 2 dozen. Most seemed elderly but some were not, and she slowly realized she had seen most...no...all of them...in dreams, since she had been a little girl.'
Cat had seen this place in her dreams as well; and she realized suddenly that these women were her ancestors…former witches. Her nose scrunched up at the mention of wine, looking to be even more disgusted by that then the tea; and then her head snapped back to Moyna as the woman continues, her expression cold “I don't owe you nuthin'... and I'm sure not drinkin' any 'grandmotherly' tea you have whipped up... give that to boylass you took care of, hm?''
'Still so jealous of poor Finchley…well I always knew you'd be a fiery one....good.” Moyna chuckled again. “You'll need to be...but don’t worry, the hardest part is over...well...mostly over.'
Cat stood suddenly, feeling quite fit as her eyes remained on Moyna, giving her a death glare. 'Quit speakin' in riddles and just tell me what's goin' on, hm?''
Moyna looked up at her, speaking slowly. "Well the ritual is almost done.'
Cat's eyes widened. 'Wait... What? What ritual? I didn't sign up for no ritual. Don’t I gotta say I Do or something?' Her eyes showed some panic now and she looked around for a way out.
Moyna smiled still, but her voice was harder now, detached, resolute. “You died grasping the Chalice Without Mercy...just as you had to, just as you were intended to. But don’t worry, that was just the beginning of the ritual, and end is much easier.'
Cat was usually not one to let her frustration openly show, but if Moyna hadn’t already been dead and looks could kill... She took in a deep breath, knowing that her anger over this whole situation wouldn’t help her to obtain answers. “And what happens in a ltitle while?''
Moyna smiles at her gently..."Well then you will be reborn of course, silly girl, and then you can get to work."
-
Back in the throne room, the strange quartet slowly made their way through the endless lights towards the laughing boy.
As they finally reached the rich but decaying carpet before the throne, bones stacked in piles all around, the boy speak. His voice sounded far away, clear but weak and breathy. "Sableinna of Aughaire...you slew your own sister in a sort of deadly haze, not understanding your purpose, your role, or why it fell to you to bear the bloody guilt...yet bear it you do, and shall, forever more.'
As the words fell upon her like judgement, Sablelinna felt empty and raised her fists to the sky not realizing her bow was still in her hand. 'What is real!' she screamed. In place of the boy and her companions she saw orcs snarling in her face, someone touching her. Cat, was it Cat? 'No, no, it could not have been. Mother died when Cat arrived, but did she? How do I know? What is happening to me!'
Sablelinna collapses on her hands and knees, her fists pounded the ground as the boy watched. 'He promised! Heeee promiiiiised!' she climbs to her feet and nocked an arrow, seeking the voice condemning her.
Sablelinna staggered away through the bones, scattering them everywhere, was it clarity? Was the fog lifting? "I didnt mean it, I did not mean it!” she cried, 'GIVE ME BACK MY SISTER!"
A voice inside her head spoke soothingly, a voice she nearly remembered, aged and gentle. "Hush now foolish girl...you played your part, did as you had to do....and have one more task before you can rest.' You were born for this purpose....and hard as it is, you must follow it through to the end.”
The boy ignored Sable’s ravings as she wandered away, as if his work was done with her, and turned back to the remaining trio. 'Nethrida of Linhir...You wear your strength as a frayed cloak. Yet no one knows better than you how strength can fail. Even now you walk through the bones of your ancestors, each came to me with your same questions…How can I make a difference? What if I fail? Have I the strength to be victorious despite my fear? Each died here without answers save for those they told themselves…”
Nethrida narrowed her eyes and frowned a little bit. "I've faced my regrets... The fact I am here now is proof of that... I've made peace with the disaster all those years ago..."
The boy looked at the Knight of Minas Tirith...and smiled. "Would your mother agree...or your sister? Like all the children of your line, you ever make NEW disasters, Nethrida of Linhir, daughter of Ynnabeth, wherever you walk.'
Nethrida froze and tensed up. Her grip on her sword tightened. "What befell them was of Angmar's making. And I will have my vengeance. One way or another I will make that wraith pay for what it did to my family" She snapped back, her voice laced with anger.
The boy seemed to sigh in a sort of pleasure that was almost sensual..."Yessss....feel that impotent rage over what you failed to prevent...Let it move and possess you.'
Nethrida pointed her sword at the boy and stopped herself, her gaze filled with steely determination. "NO. I've no need for rage. I have my friends, and all those who came before me. With this blade I will have justice." she hissed.
The boy laughed merrily. 'You have said that before...or other yous have done so....I know your family well Knight of the Vanguard, Daughter of the Tower of Water. From Warden of a Tower of Fornost to sellsword and clanless knight seeking to regain her honor...how you have fallen.'
Nethrida again recoiled a little from what the boy had said. "Maybe... But when you fall you have a choice to either give up, or get back up and keep fighting. And I will never give up... Not anymore"
-
Elsewhere, Cat quirked a brow at the old woman. “Now hold on… I don't remember agreein' to do any work, and we sure haven't discussed payment...''
Monya nodded. "Sadly dear, some things are not a matter of agreeing, just of being...we have all been in your shoes at one time, I promise you that.'
Cat looked around at the other women before her gaze fell back on Moyna. 'I don't trust your promises...' With that, she turned abruptly and made her way to the figure that she thought to be her mother, Rohina. 'Ey there... Care to tell me what's goin' on?''
Catalinna chose rightly...and her mother hugged you awkwardly. “This place...this...situation. THIS is the Witchfire....Many Directions, One path, the motto of the Witches of Aughaire. THIS is the path.'
Cat reached up with her hand to pat the woman on the back; it wasn't affectionate, but rather a signal for the woman to release her from the hug. She took in a deep breath after hearing those words and looked down at the symbol on the underside of her wrist. Eight arrows, dispersing in all directions. 'So... all those words just to say that every path leads to death?''
Rohina shook her head firmly. “No, not death...death is just the door you came through to get here...the door we all came through...but your time on the path is just beginning.'
'Yeah, see... that's the problem.” Cat sighed. “I don't wanna be dead and I don't wanna be here. No one's even explained to me what 'here' is beyond nonsense about a path.'
Rohina nodded. “HERE is the Witchfire...this is the fabled magic of the Witches of Aughaire...here you know and see all your mothers have known and seen, here you have all the wisdom and foolishness of all who came before you, in an uninterrupted line.'
Cat glanced around, dubious.
Rohina continued. 'Yes..all of us...we were once you....or who you will be...your mothers, those who bore you...and now live inside you.” She noted the slowly dawning look of horror on Cat’s face. “I know, it is daunting...nothing to be done for it. I felt much the same thing...bashed my own brains out three times in fact...always ended up here and sent back, until you girls were born.'
Cat opened her eyes again at looked back at Rohina. 'I was told that your spirit was trapped within some scale... Either way, if you can't escape this, how come it's bein' passed to me?''
Rohina nodded, and looked amused. 'The Brazen Scales in Carn Dum...yes, so the Deacon would like to believe, but I cannot be held by such toys as that, not for long, at least not the part that matters. As for why it is passed to you, it is because you are the youngest generation...in time you will bear a daughter, and then pass it to her when the moment arrives.'
Cat's brow furrowed. 'If I know what you do and you know what I do, then... you know that Desad, old silvertooth made it to where I couldn't bare any more children.''
Rohina just nodded. 'And I know, and you WILL know, that you shall overcome that....the life within you will heal all ills or wounds. The Witchfire lives inside you.'
Cat just stared at her, having never even imagined such a possibility.
“And the Witchfire is the path…” Rohina rested a hand on Cat’s shoulder, which the woman allowed.
'What path? What am I supposed to do with this Witchfire, hm?'' Cat snapped at the woman, but did not pull away.
“Whatever you choose to do, with the guidance of your mothers...good or evil...just as Moyna, MY mother and your grandmother did.” Rohina’s gaze darkened. “Mother did both great good, and unspeakable evil...even now I know not where she stands…or what she has planned.'
-
In the throne room, the boy's eye turned from Nethrida to Xandilif, who would seem to almost shy back from his gaze. “Xandilif of Dol Amroth, the Maiden of Madness, you with so much blood on your hands, of friends and foe both. None of those around you bear regret as deep and vast as your own, regret like the sea itself. The deaths of comrades you could not save, innocents you could not protect are but the froth on the tops of the wave of your self-loathing. The true heart of it, the unexplored depth of your anguish, are those companions and friends you slew for your own advantage and protection, and before all of those…the only brother that you murdered. Maiden of Madness, indeed.”
TO BE CONCLUDED
