Page 15 of Awariye
"Let me check with Ingeborg," said Wren as I finished eating. "She might have another round of medicine for you."
I waited while he went looking for her, gathering my energy around me and relishing in my increased health.
Wren's mentor came in with a cup ornate enough to remind me of the grail legends. Her sharp green eyes speared me to my seat. "Can you hold down something a bit stronger?"
"Yes, madam," I replied and committed myself.
I turned on the bench to face her squarely, planting my feet flat on the floor so as to ground myself in the life force of the planet.
"Should I bless it first?" I asked as she held out the cup in both her hands, she too facing me squarely and with attention.
"Not this time. Our traditions are different enough they may counteract each other. But your timing is good. By you sleeping through the last two weeks, I was able to harvest the mint on the full moon. Now, drink it down all in one go."
I did so, cupping my hands around the glass that now appeared in my astral vision as a cauldron. As I drank her medicinal potion, I had an experience that taught me what the alchemists must have meant when they referred to elixir.
A dark forest rushed in around me and I heard the crisp voices of the trees as the wind rustled their leaves, sifting through their thoughts. An owl hooted in the distance. The soil was damp between my toes, the air wet from a recent rain that still hung on the branches and dripped always out of sight when I blinked. Another breath in and I felt as if I were growing taller and wider, driving my feet deeper into the earth.
"Come back now," a voice said, but in it I felt a hand grab my tunic and pull.
Wrenched back into the castle kitchen, I pitched forward and grabbed Wren's forearms when he steadied me with a "Hoppala, easy there."
"That...wow," I gushed, locking gazes with Wren's mentor, no doubt in my mind now how she had come to her position as the court magician to the Danubian High King. Ingeborg's smile grew, as if she knew what I had experienced.
Her remedy of medicinal herbs had routed me firmly in my body and the physical world, after my consciousness had wandered the astral plane in and out of dreaming for a good two weeks, starting with my fever. Neither of us would say this aloud, however. As practitioners, we knew very well that one of the most important magical virtues was silence. Speaking about a working or spell could diffuse its potency.
“Can I show him the lanterns?” Wren asked his mentor, and I knew why: these new gods were said to inspire visions.
“An introduction should be fine, but nothing more than prayers today,” she warned. “Wise to not get lost in your head while you continue to recover.”
“Vielen Dank, madam.” I bowed my head in thanks.
She patted my shoulder, and I almost felt that forest return in my mind’s eye, like the essence of it surrounded her, as if her spirit lived there even as she walked in the human world.
Once she left, Wren smiled down at me. “Want to meet them?”
“The lantern gods?” I asked, anticipation running through me.
Wren nodded, his smile turning wicked. “Let’s go.”
* * *
Wren led me through the winding hallways of a castle he explained had only been an outpost when it was built centuries ago, not a place where a king would make his mainstay. But Ulbrecht the Great, brutal and fierce as a warrior, was not a typical king in terms of enjoying luxury. Instead, he’d set up house here because it was the closest one to the border where he was currently having the most trouble. Quite practical, I thought.
As we turned down a narrow hallway I could feel a presence that weighed on me, forcing me to take notice. Wren straightened and cut a brisk pace in anticipation. I knew this must be them, these lantern gods that had helped a warrior conquer this area and become Ulbrecht the Great.
“Here we are,” whispered Wren.
Large wood doors stood propped open to reveal a private sanctuary with slatted windows and a high ceiling. On a large wooden table, surrounded by cushioned kneeling platforms for prayer, seven bowls burned in seven lanterns.
"I can normally leave the bowls uncovered, but the draft has been strong lately, and I don't want any to blow out," Wren explained softly.
He guided me off to the side to wash my hands under a faucet. The water was frigid, surely straight from the well and only piped in through an outside wall. I felt my etheric body cleansed in the cold water, knowing this was why the ancients had always washed their hands and often faces and even feet before approaching the gods, in hopes of not only signifying respect via hygiene, but also being able to more closely connect through etheric force.
The lanterns were placed in a formation that reminded me of divine power cascading down the planes into the physical world: two sets of three alongside, then one marking the point of contact with the material plane.
"This is Awariye; he's a bard," Wren said. "He studied at the same monastery I did—Diana in Helvetica. You might recognize his magic; it surely feels similar."
He fell silent and I closed my eyes, focusing on that feeling of a large consciousness present in the room. It sent a sensation skittering over my life force, that of being watched, pricking my nerve endings and sending goose bumps everywhere. As the hair stood up on the back of my neck, I recognized a feeling of what I could only describe as that of pagan gods: neither good nor bad by human standards, since they did not follow human morality. Like the forces of nature, they were simply wild. Terrifying, dangerous, powerful, and wild.