Silver Dew (6 page)

“It’s so hard to remember,” he murmured between clenched teeth. He still didn’t open his eyes or relax. “I think…” I could almost feel the mental exertion of him trying to remember, his muscles trembling beneath me. “I think they mean something like…
trust and feel the pattern
.” His expression suddenly relaxed though sweat now beaded upon his brow. “It’s a loose translation of an archaic form of the Celtic language.”

“Oh. What does it mean though?”

“Your guess is probably better than mine since it’s a message meant for you. If only I could remember something more useful but no matter how hard I try, I can’t remember anything about the origins of my tattoos other than that they are clues for you, based upon the images from your spell book.”

“I wonder why you remembered everything but that?”

Sebastian didn’t give me an answer because there really wasn’t one. Perhaps one day we’d find out but it was obvious that question was not about to be answered anytime soon. Still, I wanted to know so badly what his tattoos might mean. I wanted to understand why he couldn’t remember their origins when he should remember everything now. The only one of his tattoos that he knew anything about was the mark left from the Binding – and that wasn’t even really a tattoo, it was just the mark the spell had left behind. And Sebastian hadn’t remembered Caoilinn casting the Binding spell until I told him of my dream-memory of it, and then recast it myself.

I admired his tattoo for a while longer, finding no further hints or clues trapped within the dark, detailed designs. My eyes were beginning to sting from both the fire’s smoke and the lack of light. A wave of tiredness suddenly swept over me and I let myself slide off Sebastian’s back, curling up against his side. I had thought he was already asleep since he had been silent for so long and his breathing was so deep and even. He turned towards me immediately, pulling me into the warmth and safety of his arms and sliding our extra blanket up and over us both. Unable to resist, I lightly ran my fingers through his soft hair, gently brushing it back from his face. My hand froze in shock as I realized there was another, tiny tattoo marking his scalp just above his temple. The twisted, black lines were hair thin and formed a small Celtic knot, no larger than a dime. I stared at it curiously, wondering how I’d never noticed it before. Even though it had been hidden by his hair, I had thought I knew all of his tattoos.

“Have you always had this tattoo?”

Sebastian opened his eyes, looking sleepy and confused. “I wasn’t born with any of them, Gracelynn,” he mumbled with a half-smile.

“This tattoo on your scalp – why haven’t I ever noticed it before? Why didn’t you tell me about it?” I pressed. I brushed my fingers through his hair again, straining to make out the details of the tiny, tightly formed design in the fire’s flickering light.

Sebastian closed his eyes with a sigh. “I don’t know. It’s just a small mark – it’s never seemed important.”

“It’s so strange…”

He didn’t respond so I started lightly running my fingers through his hair again, trying to discretely inspect the rest of his scalp for more tiny, hidden tattoos. He caught my hand and brought it down away from his hair, brushing his lips against the back of it in a sweet and gentle kiss.

“I love you,” he mumbled sleepily. “Now leave my head alone. That’s my only other tattoo – I promise.”

“I love you too. And fine, I’ll stop but promise you’ll tell me if you remember any other tattoos that you haven’t told me about.” My eyes were feeling heavy and were already starting to close. I tried to fight off a yawn. “I hope you sleep well.”

“So do I,” Sebastian agreed softly. Though he tried to hide it, I could still hear the fear in his voice. I didn’t know how he fell asleep each night, knowing that those terrifying dreams and tormenting nightmares would always be waiting for him. I had once been plagued by nightmares and new how truly terrifying it could be. And those were just dreams, a somewhat innocent expression of my inner turmoil by my subconscious mind. What haunted Sebastian was his actual past, nightmares that he had actually lived through and must relive, night after night. I remembered how frightening it had been the one and only time I had remembered part of Caoilinn’s life – her death. I recalled the way my mind had slowly fallen backwards through time, sinking deeper into the dark past with each slow and hypnotic breath. And as I remembered, I felt myself sifting deeper through my thoughts than I typically dared to go, the memory blending with the present and mixing into my dreams. As I hovered on the edge of consciousness, I was vaguely aware of the other memories that were hidden in the depths of my soul, lurking in the nearby shadows but I moved past them all, drifting as far back as I could go, straining towards that one life, so long ago, when Sebastian and I had first met…

Chapter Three – Sweet Dreams

The outer grounds of the temple were strangely silent today, despite the afternoon’s warm sun. The other Priestesses were preparing for the harvest ritual which would take place in a few nights’ time when the moon was at her fullest. I would be involved in the ceremony of course – I always was. But I was never asked to join in the preparations. I was rarely invited to join in anything other than to teach and to lend my strength to the important ceremonies. I had studied and been raised to the Sisterhood in the same way as all the others, my knowledge was comparable with any of their own, but my strength and my natural ability was not. I was more powerful than any Priestess or Druid in the land and though I was respected because of it, I was also an outcast and feared, even by my own Sisters.

I was alone wherever I went, set apart and above all others. Even as a child, I had never fit in. I was indulged as most children were but my mother quickly realized that my desires were being met not just by those around me but also by strange twists of fate that brought me what I wanted. My strange and potent ability became most obvious when a dog in our village had puppies and my mother traded for one of them. I adored the little puppy and he never aged a single day, remaining in the state that I desired him. I was too young at the time to understand just what I had done and why it was wrong. My mother had turned me over to the temple as soon as she realized what I could do. She had high hopes that I would find a place for myself there, that I would be a valuable part of the Sisterhood and be accepted and understood in a way that she would never truly be able to. I had only seen a handful of summers when she gave me up to the Sisters. My mother passed away shortly after that, abandoning me to my fate, never learning of my true unhappiness, my inability to belong anywhere or to ever truly be understood.

The other Priestesses didn’t trust me. I was too powerful, able to easily and effortlessly twist fate to meet my every need. I was unable to continue aging as once I reached my teenaged years, I no longer wished to grow any older. I didn’t want to grow old, to get sick or to die and so I didn’t – I couldn’t. The only emotions directed towards me were envy and fear. I had no friends in the temple, I had no family anywhere. I had no joy in my life other than to serve the people as my magic and my Gods demanded.

I rarely left the temple. It wasn’t because I wasn’t allowed, I simply chose not to. I hated the looks of awe and fear that the villagers would give me. I despised the way they wouldn’t meet my eye when I spoke to them. I resented them for the way they made me feel – hurt, isolated, inhuman. I blamed them for my mother’s rejection, for her abandonment. I convinced myself that I was better than them, that they deserved my disdain and I avoided the nearby villages. Yet even though my face was rarely seen outside the temple walls, my power, beauty and apparent youth were instantly recognized and acknowledged, my reputation preceding me wherever I went.

As I contemplated my past, I wandered closer to the temple gates. I found myself standing before them now, looking down the hill to the small village below. The rich green grass of the surrounding countryside glowed emerald under the bright sun and unfolded like a beautiful tapestry before me. The hills rolled all around, creating a small valley in which the village was located. The temple where I stood was on top of the highest hill, the cliffs and the nearby ocean just visible from where I stood. The lands were vibrant and lush and full of life. My heart felt dead and lifeless in contrast. I feared I was coming too close to wanting this life to be over with. Was I ready to move on to the next? Would I find any love or acceptance there? Would I ever?

I was distracted from my dark thoughts by the movement below me. Just where the path down to the village crested the hill, a young man had appeared, breathing hard and covered in sweat as he jogged up the steep path.

I hesitated as I watched him approach. I knew it would be better to withdraw within the safety of the temple’s walls and call one of my Sisters to assist him. It would be expected of me – one as powerful as I was not typically involved in the villagers’ trivial problems and I had no desire to change that. But still… there was something about this boy that made me pause. His dark head was down, his whole body radiating his determination to reach his goal. He was close enough now that I could hear the rhythm of his feet beating against the path. And despite myself, I was curious. I was overwhelmed by the sudden desire to speak to him, to know why he was in such a rush to reach the temple though there was no reason why I should care.

Without any further hesitation, I stepped forward through the temple’s gates and walked to meet him on the path.

He glanced up as we neared one another, his gray eyes steadily meeting mine. I couldn’t imagine how I looked to him, stepping forward from the temple with my long, white blonde hair and dark robes swirling in the breeze around me. His eyes were bright and sharp, the intelligence and kindness in them obvious in just one glance. He stood before me boldly with his shoulders pushed back, his stance straight and tall. He didn’t speak immediately; he looked surprised and was obviously too out-of-breath to form words. I knew he must recognize me but he didn’t look afraid or intimidated as I had expected. The look in his eyes was one of steady determination and hesitant wariness. I waited patiently for him to speak, studying him all the while.

“Priestess.” He somehow managed to get the word out between ragged breaths. He dropped his gaze as he spoke and made the slightest of bows with his head. He immediately straightened up, his eyes snapping back to my face as he rushed to continue. “Please, I beg your assistance. The Gods have truly favored me today by bringing me before you, for you are the only one who can possibly save my mother.”

I should have turned and walked away right then and there. But by the will of the Gods, I didn’t. “What ails her?” I calmly asked.

“My mother births a child as we speak but the midwife fears she is too old and the babe too big. She says they are both lost to us.” His voice caught as he spoke, the emotion flaring in his eyes. His breathing was slowing and steadying now. I noticed he was trembling slightly despite the hot day and the sweat on his brow.

“The midwife knows more of childbirth than I,” I readily admitted. It was true, living in a temple with a group of women sworn to chastity, I had never even witnessed a birth and had only the vaguest idea of what the process was about. “If the midwife has pronounced the situation hopeless, I am sorry to say that it must be so.”

“No.” His eyes flared once more and flooded with unshed tears. The way he spoke to me so defiantly, so fearlessly, made me reconsider him. “I refuse to accept that. She is my mother, she is dying, she’s afraid and in pain, and her babe is dying inside of her. You must help. Please. I beg you. Please.” Tears spilled down his cheeks as he spoke, leaving clear trails through the dusty grime that coated his face. His eyes shone with the tears, so bright and sparkling that I was unable to immediately look away. My heart stirred within my chest, the sudden empathy I felt for this young man powerful and unexpected. I knew in that moment that I would not be able to refuse him though I couldn’t yet understand why. It had to be the will of the Gods.

“I will come,” I agreed. Relief flooded his face, words of gratitude and thanks already forming on his lips. “But I make no promises. Most likely your mother and the babe will both die, but I shall do what I can.”

His expression became weary and somber once more at my pronouncement. He nodded his head in agreement. “I appreciate the truth of your words. Thank you.”

The young man sounded so genuinely grateful that for a moment, I was at a loss for words. I blinked twice, quickly regaining my composure and wondering over the strange effect this boy was having over me.

“There is little time. Let us make haste.” I began marching down the path as I spoke, the young man’s long legs and steady stride an even match for my own.

We half-marched, half-ran down the winding path that led us to the village. I asked the boy a few quick questions about his mother as we approached. He had three older sisters who were caring for her alongside the midwife. He was the youngest sibling of the four. Many had been shocked when his mother had conceived another child near sixteen-summers after his own birth. I guessed her age to be close to that of the Head Priestess’s – far too old to be bearing children as far as my limited knowledge told me. I could not imagine how I was going to help this poor woman or if it were even possible for me to do so but I had told the boy I would try, and so I would.

Thankfully the boy’s family lived at the edge of the village, close to the base of the hill. We passed only a few other villagers as we made our way there, all of whom gasped at the sight of me and hurriedly scurried away. They feared me, they rejected me, they didn’t remember that I had once been one of them. My heart wept from the aching loneliness that chewed at its edges and my anger flared, cold and sharp. I pushed all the emotions aside, maintaining the calm, collected composure that was expected for someone of my station.