Name (required):

  Expression ^{(Optional mood/title along with your name) Examples: (happy, sad, The Joyful, etc.) help)}

  E-mail address (optional):

* Type your message here:
>Chapter One > >Dark Roots > > > >The shutters rattled, the latch strained exactly as >though someone was trying to get in. Rose longed to >throw the shutters wide and let the howling wind carry >away the memory of her mother. It had hovered all day >beside Aunt Mary, growing stronger with each of Mary’s >labored breaths, filling the air until no one in the >little farmhouse could breathe easily. > >Uncle John and Grandmother blamed their rattled nerves >on the storms, but Rose knew different. She loved >storms. Whether they blew in from the sea or down from >the mountains rumored to rise beyond the forest, the >result was the same: even the mightiest oaks bowed >down. Not that Rose disliked the trees. She loved them >too, but a power that bent the ancient trees, that >could rip the dark into glorious flashes of silver, >who wouldn’t admire that? > >Everyone but you, Rose reminded herself. > >She pressed her palm to the trembling shutters feeling >the power of the wind. Despite its howling, Rose heard >the stifled gasp. Mary wasn’t able to hold back her >cries any longer. Rose turned and ran into the hallway >intending to yank open her aunt’s door, grab her thin >hand and somehow pour all her own strength into Mary. > >But before she could get in, the midwife came out >wiping her bloody hands across her gory apron while >muttering, “A fitting night for the birth of this >two-headed monster.” >Seeing Rose, her beady, black eyes narrowed. “What’re >you doing here? Shouldn’t one such as you be out >enjoying this night? Or is it even more fun to lurk by >a childbed, smelling the blood of the mess you’ve >made?” > >What Rose smelt most was the midwife’s rotten teeth, >but that didn’t stop her nostrils from flaring wide as >she spoke, “My mother was mortal.” > >“Well, that I know ‘cause I saw her, dead. After >giving birth to you. Sure didn’t see any sign of a >father though. And now, it’s your poor auntie in >there, gasping with every breath.” > >“Perhaps she’ll do better now, without the stench of >yours in her face.” But even as Rose spoke, a gasp >came from behind the door followed by Grandmother’s >anxious murmur. The gasp had been loud enough for the >midwife to hear. > >She smiled showing rows of brown teeth. “Ah, no, it >aint me making your auntie suffer. I told ‘em! Yes, I >told ‘em the minute you opened those, those green eyes >and stared at me as you are now. I said, ‘Throw that >thing in the Snowborne. Let the faeries save her, if >they want her.” Her gray brow lifted. “They sure >didn’t seem to want your mother, anymore. Ah, but her >folks weren’t listening to me. Just bawling their eyes >out over her busted body. No, it was little Mary >Wheatly--who I brought into this world myself, mind >you. She glared at me! And held you to her breast, >bony as it’s always been, and told me I ‘was no longer >needed.’ Wasn’t that the truth? That was thirteen >years ago, but this, her first time in childbed. And >it’s a misery for her. While you stand here looking as >fresh and rosy as the day you were bor--” > >The midwife finally closed her rotten mouth and took a >step back. Rose was tall for her age, and though there >was very little light in the hallway, she saw the >gleam of her own, narrowed eyes reflected in the >midwife's. There was no breeze, yet Rose’s dark curls >stirred upon her shoulders. > >“Why…don’t you…do some good, now,” sputtered the >midwife. “Mary needs your uncle. Go fast, like I know >you can, and fetch him.” > >Rose blinked, turned and fled out the front door. The >wind howled with glee, but Rose heard the midwife’s >sigh of relief, “Good riddance.” > >Everyone in Willowvale knew the tight rein the >Woodman’s kept on Rose, but no family in their right >mind would let a son or daughter out on a night such >as this, a faerie night, or so the old folk called >them. They claimed storms this big tore at the >enchantments which kept the two races apart. Those >that were wise didn’t disagree with the old folk. They >simply stayed on the right side of the door and locked >it too. > >Rose was barely off the doorstep when she found her >uncle pacing back and forth beneath the rowan tree. >Gradie stood a few steps beyond staring into the >night. The old dog was tense as a readied arrow, but >the stab in Rose’s chest came from the sight of her >uncle. > >His head hung. His broad back slumped. Rose touched >him gently on the arm. He spun round, took one look at >her face and barreled inside. Gradie darted after him. > >Rose didn’t follow. > >If Mary died…No. Panic welled up at the thought. >Woodman farm without Mary? It couldn’t be. And yet, >this must be how Grandmother and Uncle John had felt >when Rose’s mother died. Darling Lillie, whom everyone >had loved. Except for the man who’d enchanted, >impregnated and abandoned her to die giving birth to >his odd child. > >Would Rose now, somehow, kill sweet Mary too? > >No, she would not. > >Her hand was steady hand as she shut the front door. >The sound of must have alerted Gradie. Rose heard his >claws rasp as he jumped against the strong oak planks. > >“Sorry.” she whispered. How many times had she lain >awake listening to him whine in his sleep and >wondering whether he dreamt of chasing the wolves or >running with them? But, her family needed him. >Perhaps, tonight, they’d be too distracted to notice >him barking at the door and her gone. She prayed that >soon, they’d have someone to love in her place, >someone to brighten the sad shadows of Lillie and her >daughter. > >Rose turned toward the wind already licking her face, >tugging at her clothes. She let it pull her toward the >shivering trees, toward the deeper dark beneath them. >She didn’t even try to avoid smashing the >lily-of-the-valley that grew across her mother’s >grave. She felt the fleshy stems beneath her feet and >smelt their delicate, earthy scent, but when her foot >brushed the stone bearing her mother’s name, >something, something big and dark, flew down from the >tree and into her face. > >She threw up her hands and felt…feathers, though it >seemed large for a bird. Something sharp hit her scalp >driving her back toward the door. Rose beat at the >wide wings. Talons flew at her face but she didn’t >flinch, didn’t pretend she couldn’t understand. > >“Go ahead,” she said. “Blood will draw them faster. My >family’s better off with out me. Without you.” She >looked into the woods. “Without them.” > >The bird swerved, but its wing knocked her forehead, >hard, forcing her to step back or stumble. The howling >grew louder. The trees writhed. The bird fought the >wind, fought Rose until the front door burst open >revealing the familiar shape of her uncle cradling a >bundle in his arms. > >“Rosie!” John yelled. > >She stood still, knowing he couldn’t see her among the >shadows. The bird had flown back into the oak. > >“Rose!” > >She’d never heard such panic, not even the time she’d >snuck away from a nap and Grandmother had found her >sitting at the forest’s edge listening to the trees. >The anguish in her uncle’s voice ripped her heart, but >she stood firm and still, until he stepped into the >night. >Rose ran as fast as the bird had flown. > >Driving her uncle into the farmhouse, she slammed the >door behind her. The wind howled and beat against it. >Gradie stood across the mat growling low in this >chest. Her uncle dropped to one knee. “What in the >world were you—never mind. Look.” He held out the >bundle. > >She looked down into a tiny, pink, and peaceful face. >The lids lifted and clear blue eyes, fresh from the >otherworld, looked straight into hers. > >“Your cousin,” said Uncle John. “And you’ve got >another, a sweet girl.” > >“Twins! The midwife said it was a-“ > >“I told you not to listen to that old bat.” > > “And Mary?” > >“She’ll be all right. Just worn out, that’s all. >She’ll be fine. But your grandmother will be very >busy, what with caring for her and two--” > >“Oh, but I’ll help.” > >John smiled. “Then we’ll all do just fine.” > >Rose caught a movement behind him. The midwife stood >in the hall shaking her head. Rose didn’t care about >that, for a tiny hand closed round her finger. It’s >reach went straight to her heart which throbbed wildly >birthing a fierce and tender love. > >******* > >The bird stayed low though it was forced to dodge the >tossing tree limbs. When it was several furloughs from >Woodman farm, it soared above the roiling sea of >leaves and shrieked into the night. > >The wind caught the cry and hurtled it over the vast >forest. When the woods finally gave out, the wind >raced across a rising, stony meadow, picking up speed >but no single night of wind could blast down the >mountains that lined the island’s far shore. > >Nestled on the knees of the tallest mountain, built >from its white granite bones, an ancient castle stood >reflecting the silver streaks that lit up the sky. A >young man stood on its walls. The wind pawed at his >clothes, nipped at his skin and tousled his dark hair; >yet he stood still and straight with only his head >slightly cocked to one side. > >Finally, the wind brought the cry to his ear. He >smiled and sent his own words into the wind. “Creator >mind your flight. Guide you to a sheltered roost and >keep you safe this night.” > >Though rain pelted his pale skin and lightening burst >above his head, Edan didn’t turn toward the gardens >below and the brightly lit hall in their midst. He >stood a while longer, in awe of a power so much >greater than his own, greater than any person he had >known. > >Edan didn’t see one break in the roiling clouds, but >he knew the stars were shining bright behind them. >“Thank you,” he whispered, believing the storm to be >the only power to eclipse his tonight. Edan had seen >the effects with his own eyes, seen how Rose had >mended the Woodman’s broken hearts, but he’d never >felt how powerful a baby’s grip could be. > >OK- I just couldn't cut the last sentence entirely. >Though I saw your point, Alex. > >My excuse is this- I've been told The Seeker's Charm >is more of a YA crossover than an adult. Probably >true- I hold back on sex scenes since my daughter >reads this! And some YA readers need a bit more help >than adults especially when talking about something >like babies- though many of them have little bros and >sisses that they love, they may not remember the baby >days. > >And honestly, back to Tolkien's telling- most of us >who love LOTR first read it young- kids are a little >more used to being "told" and as long as it isn't >preachy, they'll accept it.
Choose Message Icon: None :-) Happy ;-) Wink :-D Joy :} Smirk <:-} Innocent ☮ Peace >:) Mischief B-) Shades <3 Heart |O Yawn <:P Sick >:-( Angry :~( Sad ? Question *!* Alert Thumbs Up Thumbs Down (!) Idea [Info] Info Oo. Talk [ View Emoticons ]

Notice: Copies of your message may remain on this and other systems on internet. Please be respectful.
The Voy.com User Agreement applies to all visitors.