Chapter 2
Trudging through the well kept gravel in the graveyard, Keterlyn found her emergency site easily, in spite of the years that had past since she had last updated the contents of her kit. She had learned early enough that an emergency kit was handy, a few protein bars, some water and a mobile, with some cash to tide her over. Not like she needed a mobile phone charger, she carried enough power to light cities if she wanted, if she could. But while using that much power might not be feasible for her, she could at least recharge a phone to make a call, but not until the morning, not until she had rest, and time to travel. Breaking the seal on the crypt door, she ventured in and pulled out a stone slab that kept her cloth bag hidden. Emptying the contents, she retrieved a vial of salt, and one of ash, a phone number on a piece of paper, as well as some candles to complement the other items.
Retrieving the salt and ash, she interwove the contents of the vials in an interlaced pattern across the doorway. Using her forefingers she scraped the remaining contents out and made a large sharp edged infinity sign on the back of the door before dusting off her hands and making her way to the darkening corner.
Lighting three of the candles, she melted the wax on the bottoms and affixed the molten end to the stone floor to give her illumination. Keterlyn leaned against the back of the crypt wall, lost deep in thought, in grief for the sudden loss of her way of life. She closed her eyes, recalling her last, fond, real memory.
Keterlyn remembered back to when she was young. She might not look any older now, but she certainly wasn't the same child she was in 836AD, naive, trusting and adoring of her aunt. She and her aunt would spend countless long days in the woods together, Keterlyn carving, weaving or learning some new trick, while her aunt gathered herbs, roots or small animals for their skins and meat.
Inhaling deeply, Keterlyn could practically smell the European evergreens, the earth, the sun. Maybe because this was her last favorite memory, she held on to it so well, bittersweet as it was, or maybe because she willed it into being.
(836AD)
Her last good day had seen Keterlyn with her aunt in the woods, Keterlyn carving a boxwood necklace, her aunt preparing a range of roots and herbs for drying which she laid on the makeshift table of a larger tree stump. Keterlyn was aware of her aunt glancing over towards her as she finished her artwork lovingly.
"You have a real talent for this Keterlyn" her aunt would always say when Keterlyn mastered a new skill. Keterlyn had always wished her mother had had such praise for her rather than focus on trying to learn new preachings that had come in to her town the year before last. Since her father had died two winters before, Keterlyn's mother had focused on spiritual things more so than ever, and the arrival of the preacher had been timely for her. He spoke of new ways, the sins of the old ways, damnation and salvation. Keterlyn had always grown up with the old ways, as had the rest of her family, but her mother and many of the villagers had been quick to let go of the natural arts that had kept them alive for so long. Some, like her aunt, had moved out of the town itself, to the outskirts where there was more peace for those who continued old traditions. It never felt evil when her aunt dressed wound with a local leaf when she was stung. It never felt wrong to sink her feet and hands in the earth and connect with the lessons it taught, the fruits it bore. As good a child as Keterlyn was, she stole these precious moments away with her aunt had made her feel renewed. They also allowed her to escape the gossip, the rumors.
As Keterlyn held up her carving, blowing dust from the etchings, she looks pleased. The carving was of a boar etched on one side, and a flame on the other. Strength had passion. She sighed. "At least this will explain where I have been all day when I should have been helping set up for the festival." she remarked to her aunt's knowing smile.
Out of the corner of her eye Keterlyn saw her aunt pull a leaf from one of the plants she collected. Keterlyn lowered the carving piece and waited for the test that was coming.
"Keterlyn. What plant is this?" came the inevitable question.
"That's easy it's Hyssop." she had quipped.
"Well done. And this one?" Her aunt had picked up a root from the table that Keterlyn was less sure of.
"Angelica?"
"Is that your answer or a question?" her aunt teased.
A less than confident Keterlyn replied: "My answer." to which her aunt shook her head.
Disappointed, Keterlyn scolded herself. "Ah. The herbs I have a good feel for, but not the mushrooms, roots and berries yet. I'll practice tonight and tomorrow, then you can test me again in a couple of days."
Giving Keterlyn a doubtful look, her aunt grew serious in her tone. "Are you sure about that Keterlyn? Your mother cornered me at the market last week. She was very plain she did not want me encouraging you in the old ways."
Keterlyn looked at the carving in her lap and muttered what she knew was a lie. "My life is my own."
"At least until you marry." came her aunt's remark.
"After what happened to my last betrothed I doubt I have to worry about that for a while.” Keterlyn had been given to a local boy, a furrier, for marriage a few months past, but on the eve of their wedding the boy had been struck by lightning, seemingly out of nowhere as he walked to his home after visiting her house. That had raised the eyebrow of the preacher, and of more than a few gossiping families. As if she had had anything to do with a force of nature. “They think I am cursed. It's been six months, and no one has stepped forward to make an offer for me."
"You are a beautiful girl. Rumors won't last forever. Even ones about lightning striking them down for taking your hand." She may have joked, but Keterlyn’s Aunt’s words held a truth.
"There is someone else." Keterlyn shared for the first time.
Her aunt beamed. On the subject of marriage, she and Keterlyn's mother agreed. "See. I told you. Who is he?"
The question Keterlyn wanted to avoid. "He is not from the village.”
Her aunt had scrunched up her brows. There was rarely regular enough contact with the next village to see a blossoming love affair between youths. "Truth? With whom is he staying?"
"No one." She hesitated. "He stays in the woods."
There it had been, the sudden cautionary look her aunt shot towards her, warning inherent.
"Truth auntie." Keterlyn scrambled. "I wouldn't lie. Not to you."
Her aunt explored the matter further. With the old ways came old superstitions, and Keterlyn almost wished she could lie when the next question came. "When do you see him then?"
Hesitantly she answered. "At night, he calls to me softly so Mama won't hear."
"Keti. Maybe it is best not to spend so much time with strangers." her aunt voiced concern, but Keterlyn had known if he had meant her harm, he would have had many chances by now.
"Now you sound like Mama." Keterlyn scolded.
There was a lightening in her aunt almost immediately. "I suppose I do, just...be careful."
Keterlyn stood, brushing remnants of the carving from her lap. "I better go, but I'll see you in two days." she announced before giving her aunt a hug, and disappearing down the light path into the brush.
On the way home Keterlyn practiced naming plants, mosses, mushrooms and berries. She put some in a pouch that sat at her hip to nibble on and take home to accompany dinner. Halfway home, Keterlyn ate a few berries- fateful morsels she regarded them now.
By the time she approached the village, Keterlyn was ill, staggering to push forward, her skin clammy and her pulse weak. Looking through bleary eyes she saw the little boy who was so intent to fight with the best of warriors on day that he practiced hitting targets with a stick on the edge of the village. He stopped his target practice as he saw her stumble from the brush. Her body trembling from the inside, Keterlyn tried in vain to hold on to a tree. She fell to her knees, unable to even cry out. Through her fading vision she saw the boy run for help and closed her eyes expectantly.
(Present)
; Opening her eyes again, Keterlyn looked about the crypt to see the candles extinguished, and daylight creeping in. Gathering her few belongings in the bag, Keterlyn retrieved the mobile phone and paper with the number. Those she would need now.
Walking out through the graveyard, Keterlyn had a different step to her stride. Meaningful, determined and business like. In the times between covens Keterlyn always went in to darkness mode. It kept her safe, people would rather get out of her way than walk in front of her. She shut off, put her head down and did what she had to, to get things done. Once upon a time, before she had known the subtleties of what she could get away with, what she had to do, she had perpetually been in this frame of mind. Useful as it was, in truth, Keterlyn didn't like it. Right now she had bile rising in her throat and a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach to match the darkness. That was new, well, not entirely, but she hadn't felt it in what seemed like forever. She had become particularly attached to her last coven, Marianne in particular.
Swallowing back her emotions again, Keterlyn brought the phone to life in her hand, charging it from herself, and then promptly dialed the number on the piece of paper. Calling for help wasn't something Keterlyn would ever do, but she felt it was important to keep in touch with someone when she changed cities, identities, all in the name of starting new. At least there was one person she didn't have to lie to, one person who knew all about her. Wherever her friend was, Keterlyn would hop a bus, a plane and head for her to touch base before she had to disappear again.
After leaving a message with what seemed the new beau in her long time friend's life, Keterlyn found a bus headed in the right direction and surreptitiously found her way to a back seat. Settling in, she resented the fact she had to catch a bus at all. Soon enough she would just be able to think herself to any location, but in the meantime she couldn't risk using her magic to it's full potential. Small things she could do with care, charge a phone, produce a ticket out of thin air, but the rest would have to wait. No breaking out the big guns. Not until she had a new coven in place.
Keterlyn knew she could spend the day long bus ride planning, or sinking into post reflection and brooding. As much as she wanted to start planning her next move, the event with Marianne had thrown Keterlyn's plans out by about twenty years. She had no location set, no new group she had been grooming in the sidelines...there was that broodiness setting in. At least she knew Sarah would be alright. Probably, most likely. Marianne had been the oldest, though she never looked it. She had also been very ill, though she never showed it, and the magic covered up the symptoms nicely. These were both reasons Marianne had openly embraced the opportunity of joining the coven so many years ago. In giving up the power though, Keterlyn had no doubt that Marianne would be in hospital right now undergoing tests, which meant when they came for her, Sarah wouldn't be with Marianne. They wouldn't be able to take Sarah, but Marianne... Keterlyn shook off the thought. What would happen to her would be the same thing that had happened to every other coven member when the circle, their link, was severed. Still, usually people had time to prepare. Patrick and the others hadn't even known about what exactly she was running from. Having been sick of explaining it over and over, Keterlyn had just implicated a range of underlings that they should be scared of - leeches, wraith, vampires and other nasties. Marianne had been the only one she trusted with the whole story. She knew the stakes. Next time, she would have to be clear, that would help her burning conscience. Telling them what exactly the nasty thing in the dark was that was looking for them if they slipped up. Not that they would ever really understand, not truly, not like she did.
Still, where was she going to find twelve individuals willing to sign up for a trade like that which she had to offer in just two weeks. It was exhausting thinking about it. Perhaps she couldn't be so gracious as to give them a choice this time. She would have to force the issue. She could be upfront, let them know the danger of the situation, the truth, but giving them a choice wasn't going to be an option.
Keterlyn nodded to herself as she made the decision. Yes, two weeks to get twelve people in a room together to bind them to each other, and to her. Twelve unwilling participants was a set up fraught with difficulty, but it wouldn't be the first time. In 1654, before she had a grip on what to do she had done the same and not explained much of anything to those she had chosen. The difficulties in getting them to work together with only half an idea of the threat had been almost insurmountable. Again in 1867, she chose to omit certain truths until there had been that horrible accident that saw one of them try and take the power for themselves and shut out the others. The ripple effect was everyone had died in brutal fashion, essentially imploding from misdirected power. This time she would be 100 percent open. Sort of.
Never mind. Keterlyn knew she would feel more settled in just a few hours. She would be able to talk it out, and look at her options.
The high school kid in the seat in front of her was busy talking up the girl across the aisle. Sneaking a peak, Keterlyn eyed off his mp3 player laying on top of his open bag. She knew she shouldn't, but she put her hand out and the item slinked towards her, earpiece first. Securing the player in her hand, she ran the other hand over it and the shade changed from charcoal to red, her favourite colour.
At nightfall, Keterlyn hopped off the bus as the high school kid lagged behind her, rummaging through his bag for his lost mp3 player. Keterlyn didn't trouble herself though. She had places to be.