Page 20 of Up from the Earth

“Indeed it is, little beast. But you are not quite finished with your trails. There is one remaining—one that will lend meaning to your new gifts.”

A shiver worked through my spine as The King spoke. He was such a strong presence in my mind, in my soul, but I’d experienced him now, at least one of his forms at any rate. I felt that connection, and the voice in my head was not the same shock but a pleasant companion.

If one that remained quite…intimidating.

“What is it? Can’t you just be straightforward for a change?”

A deep, rumbling chuckle melted through my being, and I, of course, already knew the answer. In no way did I expect an ancient being to speak in clear, concise instructions. Part of all of this was understanding that I had to interpret and much as perform. It was about following my intuitionandsucceeding. Both were integral to whatever great journey this was.

“A final test awaits you, little beast. It will give you the power, but more importantly, the knowledge to understand how we must defeat the fiendish presence that seeks to fracture this realm.”

Flickering in the corner of my eye, the door to this odd bed chamber was glowing a faint yellow-green. It hummed with magic, calling me toward it as I’d been called toward the woods before. I stepped up to it, steeling myself as best I could for what might lie beyond this passageway that still resembled the forest, the width of it a sizable tree trunk.

The gnarled handle felt warm beneath my palm, and I twisted it open, feeling that gift affect the natural cycle influencing the door itself and what lay behind it. Yanking itself from my grasp, the thing swung open with considerable force, releasing a popping sound that made my ears ring.

Revealed was more of the forest, but this one picked up and set down in a new location. One that was home to a thin stream that cut through the trees and led deep, deep, deep into the woods. Fog crept over the ground in the dim, dabbled light of the spring day, the scents of wondrously varied fauna slipping through.

With a long inhale, I squared my shoulders and crossed the threshold.

As ever, Cerri…onward.

Ten

As In All Things, As In Birth, The Only Way Out Is Through.

Heavy,grayfogcloudedover everything in sight. I couldn’t make out more than twenty or so feet ahead of me, but what I could see of the spring and flora surrounding it was the fresh buds that sprang to life on each branch and bow.

Yellow flowers no bigger than a thumbnail covered the young saplings up on the left. Right on the banks of the tiny river were bushes bursting with pale pink blooms, their fragrance potent and sweet. That dappling sound of the water moving over rocks drew me in, and I crept carefully along its winding curves.

“Spring.”

My voice was a reverent whisper as I took in my surroundings. The Equinox had come—Ostara and the welcoming of renewal and growth laid out in front of me. It sang in my bones, the lilting calls of birds beyond number and a hushed hum that suffused the fog with a ringing echo. Overhead was still grayed out and clouded, but just behind them, I could make out the ringed flare of an eclipse.

Agoodomen.

Equinoxes were times of balance, and eclipses were rare phases of balance between light and dark. Together, they ensured powerful magic was working.

As I rounded a bend in the stream, a young deer hopped away, its white spots so bright against its deep tan fur. The smell of fertile, damp earth was everywhere, that crisp quality of water following it. I pressed forward, my bare feet touching the stones and dirt and grass of this wondrous place.

After just a few moments, I reached a crossroads of sorts. The spring met a long, winding path that ran perpendicular to it. They formed a T—one road made from water; one made from land.

Crossroads are powerful alone but in a place like this…

Hopping into the center of the crossroad and setting down in the middle of the tiny bridge above the stream was a rabbit. It cocked its head at me, the deep brown of its wide eyes stirring something in my memory. There was a patch of reddish-brown fur in the center of its forehead, speckled gray-brown and white making up the rest of its fur.

I knew that mark. However unlikely it seemed, I knew this rabbit.

He’d led me astray once.

“I know you.” His little whiskers flicked about, and he jumped closer. “You came to me as a child, didn’t you?”

Blinking, the little creature nibbled at a stalk of clover that shot up near the stream, chewing it into his mouth until it disappeared.

“I have always been with you.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. What a strange place to find my familiar. Kneeling down, I held out my hand, allowing the rabbit to hop toward me and rub his head against my palm.

“Your name?”

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