Page 18 of I Will Always Find You
In place of the Horned God reacting in anger, the stag stomped its hoof, the boar snarled, and the serpent hissed, for Cernunnos’ irritation would still be heard.
“Foolish, arrogant witch! I am well acquainted with your goddess, the great and wondrous Hecate, for she travels far and wide from the Southlands when she wishes. She is worshipped in many places and by many names. Know that I have recently spoken with her. But I shall start at the beginning, one year past, when I first felt a disturbance within my sphere of influence—when you opened your mind to Aodhán.
“Seeking an answer to a conundrum that I could not uncover myself, I went before the Goddess regarding this unrelenting feeling of chaos suddenly surrounding one of our disciples. With a heavy sadness about her, she showed me your and Aeneas’past. I learned how Hecate intervened on your behalf and what your transgression now meant for our most favoured adherent, Aodhán, because you were weak and disregarded the ordinances of your entwined fates.
“Did you think you were spared the punishment you know I speak about because you believe you acted quickly to shutter your thoughts and memories? Little fool! I have been holding Aodhán’s mind together for the last year! My power has staved off your blasted curse, but no more. As I stated, I have been visited by Hecate, who warned me that the Wheel of Destiny will soon seek to strike out at me for my meddling.
“If it cannot shatter Aodhán’s mind, the madness will surge forth from him like a dark tide, spreading its insidiousness to all who come into contact with him. Neither the Goddess nor I will tolerate a throng of deranged followers, enslaved by a chaos meant for one alone.
“And so, upon the witching hour, I will arrest my shielding of Aodhán’s mind from the Wheel’s punishment, though it cleaves my heart in two to do this. Our beloved Aodhán is doomed, though I cannot help but think it is you, witch of the Roma, who should bear the weight of this curse alone!”
The Romani witch inhaled sharply, his breath catching in his throat as shock and disbelief washed over him. He had been so sure, so confident that he had successfully retracted his memories of Aeneas from Aodhán, erasing any traces that might inflict harm.
And why would he not believe this? After all, a full year had passed without incident. Throughout that time, his beloved had exhibited no signs of mental turmoil, no lingering hints of confusion nor the dread spectre of madness lurking behind his eyes. Each day had unfolded as a testament to his conviction, painting a serene portrait of clarity and composure in Aodhán’s demeanour.
But the Romani witch now wondered if the Horned God spoke true. Was it all a deception? Was Aodhán’s mind constantly on the verge of collapse, held together only by the power of a god? And now this divine strength, once a source of necessary support, was soon to disappear.
No, he refused to believe the words, thoughts, or visions of any god other than Hecate, Gian, or the Great Mother. He would not play the fool.
“No, this cannot be. You seek to trick me, to break me! You desire my departure from this land, leaving Aodhán for yourself alone. No, I will not fall into your jealous entrapment. Leave us alone and return to your Otherworld, Horned God.”
Feeling no unseen force anchoring him, the Romani witch pivoted smoothly on his heel. His heart raced with urgency, pounding steadily against his chest as he set his sights on the path that led back to Aodhán.
In his mind’s eye, he vividly pictured enveloping him in a fierce embrace, their souls intertwining, like their bodies, in a sacred shared moment. The very thought of holding him close, feeling the warmth of his body, naked or robed, against his own, filled him with deep comfort. He needed their connection now more than ever, to draw strength from it amid the turmoil he silently feared might still rear its ugly head.
“Do you know the Spell of Footprints, witch of the Roma?”
The Romani witch abruptly halted and turned back to face the Horned God, who remained seated on the forest floor, his red eyes still like twin embers, glowing with an otherworldly brightness to pierce through the thick, shadowy darkness of the woods.
Why he turned back remained a puzzle to the Romani witch. Curiosity? Anger? Perhaps arrogance? Maybe he wished to reveal to the Horned God that he was quite adept at spellcraft, having memorized hundreds of spells over centuries of study.“Yes, I know it, but I will not play your games. Go away and vex one of your precious Celtae witches.”
The Horned God smirked, disregarding the disrespect. “If you refuse to believe me, I have just provided you with a way to uncover the truth for yourself. You claim to be familiar with the Spell of Footprints. Good, then perform it tonight. All will be revealed tomorrow.
“You know this grim foretelling requires ashes from a fire. Upon the fire’s extinguishing, rake the ashes and sprinkle them onto the hearth. Go to bed, and the following morning, check the ashes. If there is a footprint in the ash, the person whose foot fits that ghostly print, and it will belong only to one who dwells within the residence, is not long for this world.
“Are you concerned about this spell’s effectiveness? It is not of my creation, not of my magic, so I cannot influence its outcome. Carry out this spell tonight, witch of the Roma, and see if my words prove true.”
As a tempestuous wind howled and flung leaves into a frenetic, swirling dance around the Romani witch, the majestic figure of the Horned God and all the animals he controlled vanished before his eyes, engulfed by the untamed embrace of nature’s wild spirit.
As he slowly made his way back to the flickering bonfire, the warm glow still illuminating the night, the Romani witch watched the Celtae witches slip back into their flowing robes. Their revelry of dancing and chanting around the bonfire had ended; this part of the Rite of Samhain was now complete. His eyes scanned the gathering, seeking out Aodhán amidst the soft murmurs and laughter of the jubilant mystics.
And they were the only ones in the surrounding area who felt this way, for the Romani witch was beside himself with misery.
“Why do you look so forlorn, my love?” Aodhán asked as he emerged from the shadows, worry etched on his brow. Fullydressed, he wrapped his muscular arms around his heart-mate and held him close. “Are you upset because you could not participate? Or is it seeing our strange ways up close? I know that nudity is not a part of your traditions, so I hope that revealing aspect of our ritual has not upset you. I did warn you that it would be a part of this.”
The Romani witch smiled and snuggled tightly into his beloved’s strong embrace. “No, that is not it. I am simply tired. There is so much wild magic in the air that it verily saturates my body. It is a lot to contend with. And so I think I will retire for the night.”
“But my love, you will miss the further celebration in town! The dancing, singing, wine drinking, and so much more merriment shall go on into the light of morn. The wisdoms will have brewed their special tea made from thyme and rosemary for remembrance of those departed. It is an honour to drink a cup.
“And the ghost stories I shall tell, ones told to me as a child by my parents, may the Goddess bless and keep their souls. We lay out such a feast, my love, and though we set some aside for the Old Ones, I promise to make sure there will be oat cakes for you. I know they are your favourite. Will you not share the remainder of this night with me?”
The Romani witch pulled back from the embrace and gazed lovingly into Aodhán’s eyes. “I would like nothing more, and know that I mean no disrespect, but I am tired. And forgive me, but I also feel this celebration should be for the followers of the Goddess—and the Horned God.” Those last few words erupted out of his mouth like a curse rather than a statement. “I will pray to Hecate and my ancestors and go to bed. Please, do not worry about me or pressure me to stay. I feel this is best.”
Aodhán sighed deeply, disappointed but accepting the situation. “As you wish, my love. I am glad you were here. I feltyour presence with me tonight, though there was a brief moment when your essence seemed to vanish. I looked for you, but you were gone. But then I saw you emerge from the woods and assumed you went to relieve yourself.”
The Romani witch laughed, though it was somewhat forced. He kissed Aodhán full on the mouth, his tongue forcing its way in, though the red-haired man put up no resistance.
“Are you sure you are alright, my love?” Aodhán looked at the Romani witch’s aura, and though he saw patterns of distress, he stayed quiet, waiting, hoping his beloved would willingly reveal his feelings.
