Page 37 of Awariye

That was a solid point. It would be the easiest thing in the world for beings so powerful to plant some imagery in one of Wren's dreams to nudge him toward them. The Christian mages at Diana Monastery invoked archangels in their ritual magic. As fellow monks, Wren and I would recognize such signs immediately.

I wished for our instructors at the monastery right now. If we messed this up badly enough, we could lose our minds. Yet Wren's letters had been slow to be delivered, what with the snowy passes through the Alps closed in the winter, and the only response he'd received back so far was from the head librarian, confirming he'd documented Wren's account and that he wanted Wren to send as much information as he could. He’d also confirmed that my mentor Ceredigion was recovering at the monastery and would pull through.

"I'll try the Universal Prayer then," I said to my friend's jerky nod.

These nature-based lanterns would surely appreciate a polytheistic prayer to nature-based gods.

With all the beauty and grace I could muster, I sang our prayer.

Grant us, O Holy Ones,

Thy protection,

And in protection, strength.

And in strength, understanding.

And in understanding, knowledge.

And in knowledge,

The knowledge of justice.

And in the knowledge of justice,

The love of it.

And in that love,

The love of all existences.

And in the love of all existences,

The love of Earth our Mother,

And all goodness.

Wren sighed at the same time I did, as we felt that release. But even through the brief lessening, the next crested wave seemed to roll through.

Maybe I really should just sing William Butler Yeats' poem a thousand times. With how delirious and pained Wren looked, hugging his dog like a raft on stormy seas, I realized in terror that I might be the only fully cognizant person in the room.

Pacing around the table as the lanterns surged, billowing and seeming to eat up all the air despite the windows and doors flung wide open, I resisted the urge to suggest again that I sing one of the many hymns to the Judeo-Christian God. It was just such a waste, since in this area, despite three tumultuous centuries, Christianity by far was the religion for which the most material had survived. In case the lanterns were so aligned, I should at least try it, but Wren would only say I was being too scientific about my testing, and that risked offending the gods. To be truly scientific, the human stood as the subject, with the other being that was undergoing testing taking the position as a passive object on which the human acts, and no living being would appreciate being treated that way.

The best path was to approach the gods with respect, asking for contact and listening intently, then accepting it if one didn't hear anything. Ours were quiet gods that waited for the person along the path if they continued to put in the hard work.

I looked over the lanterns and pressed a palm over my solar plexus in respect, then held my hands open to them. "Please guide me, us, in what you want. I will endeavor to listen. Thank you."

As my brain pulsed and I winced, some shuffling came from behind me, and I turned to find Wren shifting out from under his snoring dog. My friend smiled indulgently at the large animal, smoothing his ears down and giving him one last pat before letting him sleep on the bench.

Then Wren met my eyes, and my breath froze in my chest, stuttering out to see the crisp clarity therein.

Wren began circling the wooden table clockwise. I did so as well, keeping pace with him so as to form opposing poles that rotated around the lanterns. Wren sang the Yeats poem first of The Valley of the Black Pig, then the Universal Prayer, and we felt the pressure ease slightly both times, only to be refilled once more. Little by little, the power coming down from the higher planes was getting funneled into the physical world, our world, where our blessed partners fought to protect this land from rape and pillage. I only hoped that the power building up that we were bringing through was benevolent and divine, that even if it didn't protect our fighters, then maybe it would at least nourish nature and the harvest.

By the time Wren finished the Universal Prayer, I had another song ready, a hymn to the Sun. I sang through it as Wren smiled at the lanterns, knowing from his gaze that this one would work. Again, the pressure eased, another notch siphoned even as it increased again in only seconds. Wren sang it back to me, and since that one had worked, I cycled us through the hymns for the planets and the material elements, finishing with a love song to our home planet.

Although the lanterns of course represented air and fire, there were seven in a formation of balance and directional current. With such powerful forces, it was critical to enforce a balance, and thus we brought in the other hymns for water and earth to counterbalance. Wren and I would notice, if not also those around us, if we became unbalanced from spending too much time near air and fire. To be too airy was to lose touch with reality and become an "airhead" who was fully scattered and unable to focus. To be unbalanced in fire made it easy to fly into a rage.

While Wren sang the planetary hymns, echoing each one back to me, I tried to focus on the lanterns and singing for the gods, but the fear that set my heart racing demanded attention. I couldn't square how delirious Wren had been just a few minutes ago with how he was now. Here he was, sharp as a tack and pushing me to circle the lanterns with him and sing any nature-based pagan poetry I could find.

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