Chapter Eight
The Devil
Alaunus had been insistent that the two of them leave the village after they wed. Aveta wondered if he knew something she did not.
Still, she spent the day carefully packing her herbs, potions, seeds, and tools in several baskets. She was not as concerned with her clothing as the few dresses and nightgowns she owned could easily be rolled into a bundle. She decided she would ask Bran to sell her cottage and hold the money until she and Alaunus could return.
To her surprise, the day passed quickly. She wondered how Alaunus was faring with the villagers and their response to his sudden illness and equally abrupt healing. She tried not to worry about the shadow that had passed over her garden that morning, focusing instead on what was to come after she and Alaunus were wed.
It was late afternoon when she heard a light rap on her door. Assuming it was a villager in need of a potion or tea, Aveta opened her door with a warm smile to greet them.
When her eyes fell on Rhiannon, she felt the imminent danger. The other woman hurled a curse at her, the ancient words falling from her lips with ease. Aveta threw up a hand, deflecting the curse with a spell of her own, her reaction immediate. The words came from her mouth instinctively.
Before Aveta could fully understand what was happening, Rhiannon reached out and grasped her wrist. Her black eyes shone like mirrors as she hissed another spell.
Aveta screamed as the world fell away and she was hurled into the blackness.
Something soft brushed Aveta’s cheek before moving on to tickle her nose. Her head jerked away from the strange feathery sensation on her skin.
“You’re awake,” Rhiannon crooned. “Good.”
Aveta sat up suddenly, her head aching fiercely. Groaning, she lifted a hand to her forehead. “What have you done, Rhiannon?” she asked. “Where are we?”
“Since you refused to do as I asked, I have taken matters into my own hands.” The younger woman rose from her crouched position next to Aveta, straightening to her full height. A black feather dangled from her fingers.
Aveta stared up at her, swamped by the sensation that she was seeing Rhiannon’s true form for the first time. The woman seemed taller, thinner, and her black hair glistened with blue highlights rather than the subdued hints of color that Aveta thought she noticed before. It struck her that Rhiannon’s hair was the same color as the goddess’.
“Who are you?” Rhiannon was clearly more than human, perhaps even more than a witch. Now that the veil was lifted, Aveta could see the shimmering power that cloaked the other woman, the same blue light that sparkled in the stream in the woods.
“I am you,” Rhiannon replied, sweeping the skirts of her dress to the side in order to pace across the rock floor. “Or I once was.”
Aveta noticed that they were enclosed in some sort of cave, the jagged rocks appeared vaguely threatening in the dim glow of the candles scattered throughout the chamber.
Rhiannon stopped her movements, facing Aveta with a chilling smile on her face. “You see, long ago I too was blessed by the god and the goddess. They saw fit to give me power with the instruction to use it for the benefit of others. Like a good little sycophant, I did as they said. As the years passed, I grew older and poorer, living in a mud hut half the size of your cottage. Then I fell ill. After years of serving others, helping the sick and wounded in my own village, do you know what they did?” Rhiannon’s eyes sparkled with fury and bitterness. “They left me to die. No one cared that I was ill and alone. They knew I was dying, and they did nothing.”
The flames that danced upon the candles expanded, shooting several feet in the air. Rhiannon’s rage seemed to fuel them.
“So I decided then that everything I did from that moment on would be for my benefit, and mine alone. There is more to magic than the unselfish servitude that the god and goddess would have you believe,” Rhiannon explained. “I did whatever was necessary to heal myself, to gain wealth and beauty, but my powers have begun to wane.”
Aveta inched away from Rhiannon, wracking her mind for a spell to protect her. She reached out for the goddess, but could not feel her. She did not dare call for Alaunus. While he was stronger now than he had been before, he did not possess the skill to defeat a creature such as Rhiannon.
“What is it you want from me?” Aveta asked desperately, realizing her power had deserted her. She felt no energy, no pulse of magic, within her.
Rhiannon laughed. “Little witch, I told you. I wanted you to stay away from Alaunus.”
Aveta’s eyes grew wide as she finally grasped Rhiannon’s true motive for wishing to wed Alaunus. “You want his power,” she whispered.
For years, Aveta had known that Alaunus had great potential. His power was still raw and untutored, and he seemed completely unaware of the magical feats he would be capable of performing. In fact, he did not seem to know that he held power at all.
“Yessss,” Rhiannon hissed. “I am sure you have felt it.”
Aveta nodded, speechless. How could she have been so blind?
Rhiannon laughed. “What fools, the pair of you. All this time, you had no idea that the most powerful wizard this land has ever seen was the same man you spread your legs for. And he was too blind to see you for what you are. Had either of you been willing to acknowledge the true strength of your natures, I would not have had a chance.” Her smile widened. “I must confess I am quite pleased that is not the case. Especially since you have improved Alaunus a great deal.”
Aveta stilled at Rhiannon’s words, watching the dark witch closely. “What do you mean?”
“Come now, Aveta. Surely you have realized by now that it was I who cursed Alaunus. Since I could not siphon his power a bit at a time by living as his wife, I decided that I would strip it from him all at once as he died. It was not the ideal arrangement, but it was my only opportunity since he resisted all my attempts to…persuade him. When you changed him, I was shocked. I did not think it within your ability to create an entirely new being. Still, I have decided that I am grateful. He is stronger now. When I drain his power, it will make me stronger as well.” She laughed with false humor. “Now that I know how you created such a beast, I believe I will make more of my own. Warriors to do my bidding and strong enough to defeat any enemy.”
“You still intend to kill him?” Aveta asked softly, terrified by the picture Rhiannon painted with her words.
“That was always the plan, little witch,” Rhiannon answered bluntly. “Only the manner in which he dies will change now. I do not want to wait years to take his magic piece by piece. I want it all immediately.” Rhiannon moved to a rock ledge and plucked up a bronze bowl. “But, first, I must take care of you.”
Aveta clutched her belly as she staggered to her feet, her body stiff and sore from the curse Rhiannon had hurled at her earlier. The other woman’s black eyes dropped to where Aveta’s hand lay on her stomach.
“You are with child,” she breathed, her eyes sparkling with glee. “Oh, this will be the day I finally become as the goddess. Any offspring of you two will carry more magic than any being born before.”
Fear pierced through the shock that had dulled Aveta’s senses. She could not allow this to happen.
Goddess, give me strength, she prayed silently. And may the god grant me the skill to defeat such evil.
For the first time since Rhiannon had taken her, Aveta felt the power inside her stir. She could sense the god and goddess once again. The barrier that Rhiannon had erected against them was flimsy in comparison to the deep well of magic they possessed.
Drawing from that well, Aveta lifted her arms. She did not speak the ancient tongue, nor did she invoke a spell. Gathering pure power and spooling it within her, she became the conduit, directing unadulterated energy toward Rhiannon.
The dark witch laughed, raising a hand as if to block the attack. Then the wave slammed into her, throwing her back against the cave wall and pinning her. Her amusement instantly faded, her glee replaced with a snarl.
Aveta felt an invisible wind swirling about her, lifting the ends of her hair and tugging at her skirts. The power flowed through her, warm and promising. “I will not let you harm anyone, Rhiannon,” she vowed, releasing the dark sorceress and watching as she fell into a heap on the floor.
Rhiannon lay facedown on the stone, utterly still. Aveta released the breath she held. The witch was unconscious and now would be the opportune time to bind her, both physically and with magic.
Aveta saw a pile of coarse rope in the corner and realized that Rhiannon had intended to do exactly the same to her. Fitting that the dark witch would be on the receiving end of such treatment, Aveta thought.
When she moved to pick up the coiled rope, Rhiannon pushed herself to her knees, her hand slicing through the air as she hurled a clay jar toward Aveta. There was no time to evade the potion as the jar shattered at Aveta’s feet, spewing droplets of the potion into the air and all over her.
“By my hand, the bonds are broken. Life everlasting, yet forever alone. Your beloved forgotten and your heart of stone. By my will, so shall it be!”
Aveta felt something snap within her as her bond with Alaunus was severed. She cried out at the sudden emptiness, her hands tearing at the bodice of her dress. The pain was unimaginable.
Every candle in the cavern was suddenly extinguished and Aveta screamed again as she dropped into an infinite darkness.