Darkwitch Rising by Sara Douglass

“Cromwell,” Charles said, his voice tight. “My father’s murderer.”

“No,” Louis said. “Asterion was your father’s murderer, Charles. Never forget that.”

Charles’ eyes flickered Louis’ way, then settled back on the figure the silk showed them.

Cromwell was still, and very, very watchful.

Almost as if he expected someone, or something.

“Look!” Kate said, one hand pointing.

They all saw it, a miasma of blackness that crept under the great closed doors of the House and slid towards Cromwell.

He did not appear to notice it.

“Asterion?” said Marguerite.

“Death,” said Charles, “whether at Asterion’s hand, or that of the Game. Death…finally.”

“And thus we are being shown this,” said Louis. “Your time has almost come, Charles. England awaits. For all of us.”

The scene changed again, Cromwell sitting on his lonely throne fading first into a murky greyness, and then into…into…

A great roiling mass of silk as it suddenly heaved away from the bed. Its centre rose, as if it contained something underneath it, while its edges remained flat on the bed.

“No!” Kate cried, reeling back, one hand on her belly. “Something comes!”

“Asterion,” Louis said flatly.

Antwerp, the Netherlands

“No!”

Marguerite’s voice cracked across the Circle, stalling all who had been in the process of rising.

“No,” she said, more softly now, and there was a hint of a smile about her face. “It is not Asterion at all, but…”

She leaned forward, gave the silk a tug and, before the others’ astounded gazes, revealed Long Tom.

“You have given us a surprise, Long Tom,” Marguerite said.

Long Tom bowed to her, then to Charles, to Kate and finally to Louis. Then, as the others watched, he moved out from the silken circle and sat down between Kate and Louis; the rest of the Circle shifted about so that, again, there remained equidistance between all members.

“Long Tom,” Charles said, inclining his head respectfully. “Why have you come? And how? I had not thought you had the power to manage this transference.”

“To the second of your questions first,” Long Tom said. “It was not my power which has accomplished this transference, but yours.” He nodded at them, as if a teacher particularly proud of his pupils’ accomplishments. “You are potent, indeed.”

Marguerite flushed with pleasure. “Was it you who directed our sight to Cromwell?”

Long Tom nodded. “Yes. I, and the Game.”

“As one, now,” said Charles.

Long Tom shrugged his shoulders very slightly, which could have meant anything. “Cromwell is touched with death,” said Long Tom. “He will not last beyond the autumn.”

“Is this your doing—the Game’s? Or Asterion’s?” said Charles.

“Does it matter?” said Long Tom. “Cromwell’s death will herald your return, Charles. Your invitation back to the throne. There shall be no invasion needed this time. England shall be yours for the asking. You shall be welcomed with roses and cheers and grants of heavy gold coin.”

Charles grunted. “Roses and coin, eh?” He met Louis’ eyes, and both men smiled a little. “Better that than battle, I suppose.”

“Cromwell’s death not only heralds your return, Charles,” said Long Tom, “as all within this chamber, but also…”

“Asterion,” said Louis, and the bleakness in his tone killed all remaining humour among the Circle. “Asterion will make his move.”

“Aye,” said Long Tom. “The instant you step foot back on the English mainland,” he said to Charles, “then Asterion will seize Noah. She bears Asterion’s imp within her. She will answer his summons. It is a reality we cannot change.”

“But for what does everyone wait?” said Marguerite. “I don’t understand this. Asterion could take Noah any time he wants, and, once he has her, then he can take the bands. Frankly, Asterion could have had the bands many years ago.”

“No,” Charles said, shaking his head slightly. “It is a great deal more complex than that. This contest between ourselves and Asterion has now gone on over three lifetimes. Everyone who is reborn time after time is caught up in the struggle. No single person or entity controls events. We are all a part of this dangerous dance.” He paused. “I think that the true tussle cannot begin until everyone is in place. Everyone.” He looked about the Circle. “Catharine is still missing. Her father won’t allow her to come to me until I am certain of the throne, and that won’t happen until Cromwell dies.”

“But events are moving,” said Louis. “Cromwell is dying. It shall not be long before Catharine is with us, and then—”

“Then Asterion shall seize Noah,” said Marguerite.

“No!” said Louis. “We cannot allow this.”

“You must,” said Long Tom. “None of you can prevent it. She is his whore in this life. You know that. She—”

“We find that difficult to accept, Long Tom,” said Charles.

“You must accept it!” Long Tom barked, and everyone went rigid at the command in his voice. “This was one of Eaving’s many possibilities for her future, and, because of the misstep she took in her previous life, then it has become a reality in this life. Accept it,” he finished softly. “She will become Asterion’s whore.”

For a moment there was silence, then Charles spoke softly. “This is truly a bitter message you bear.”

“And yet there is more of it, I think,” said Marguerite, watching Long Tom closely.

“Aye,” he said. “Indeed there is. I talked to Noah, years ago, as she was entering her womanhood and thus her powers as Eaving. I am going to tell you part of what I told her—the rest of what I said to her concerns her ears only—and I am going to tell you one more thing. First, to what I told Noah. There is something which must be accomplished in this life if there is to be any hope that Asterion can be defeated.

“Old wounds must be healed.” Long Tom looked down at his hands, folded before him, as if he could not bear to study the faces of his listeners. “Brutus must make amends to his father; the wound of patricide must be healed.”

Charles gave a soft, disbelieving laugh. “Silvius shall demand a high price for that wound to be healed, my friend.”

“Then it must be paid,” said Long Tom. “If it isn’t, then the stag cannot be raised.”

Charles shook his head, then moved on. “What other wounds must be healed, Sidlesaghe?”

“The deep fissures between Noah and Genvissa-reborn,” said Long Tom. “These healings, if they are ever to be accomplished, you can have no say in. It shall be between Noah and Jane Orr.”

“Jane Orr?” Louis said. “That is her name?” None of them had ever been able to scry out Genvissa-reborn’s identity.

Long Tom nodded. “She is born sister to Asterion, who masquerades as a man called Weyland Orr. He prostitutes women for his enjoyment, and as practice for what one day he shall do to Noah. He has debased Jane, humiliated her, and keeps her as his slave.”

“In Jane’s last life as Swanne she thought herself in love with Asterion, and plotted with him for her own gain, as she then thought,” said Louis. “Is she still so misguided?”

“Nay,” said Long Tom. “Her life is a misery, and she loathes Asterion. I believe she has come to regret her actions of past lives.”

Charles snorted. “That I find hard to believe. Genvissa has ever managed to justify her actions.”

“Enough of Genvissa-reborn,” said Louis. “It is Noah who occupies my thoughts. You say that she needs to endure the certain misery of Asterion’s ill-treatment? Why? Why?”

“I think I understand,” said Marguerite slowly. “Noah, Eaving, and Jane must be reduced to the same circumstances. To the same degree of baseness so that they may begin anew. Perhaps suffering shall bond them as nothing else has.”

“You are a perceptive woman,” Long Tom said. “Yes, Noah and Jane shall be reduced to a new beginning. We must hope they take the opportunities it offers.”

“I cannot sit here and accept this,” Louis said. “You say that the instant Charles sets foot on England again Asterion shall seize Noah and you want us to do nothing about it?”

Long Tom dropped his head and studied his hands. When finally he looked up, there was a strange light in his eyes, and everyone else within the Circle felt a chill run down their spine.

“We can prepare her as best we can,” he said, his voice very low and very commanding. “We can give her every support possible to endure her time with Asterion, and to allow her to believe that, eventually, all will be well.”

“We do this already,” said Charles, “with our Circle.”

Long Tom smiled very slowly. “I want you to do more,” he said. “There is something you need to accomplish. Something which can aid Noah, and heal the greatest wound of all—that between her, and you, Brutus-reborn. Listen.”

Long Tom talked for a long time, explaining to them what they must do on the night of the summer solstice—one of the most powerful nights of the year—which was the next time, within the annual cycle of seasons, that they could form the Circle. He talked for so long, and what he said both so disturbed and so excited the group, that their power was almost all gone by the time Long Tom was done. There was no chance to see Noah, nor send her their support.