The Mysterious Disappearance of Contessa Willoughby: Part Ten
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Part Ten
Reread Part Nine if you wish to recall where we last left Contessa or continue reading.
Ferand complied with Gallagher’s request. Ferand allowed the two squirrels to cling to Ferand’s fur as he traversed rivers and woods, then skirted Cadair Arthur, the twin summits that served as either welcome or warning sign to travelers entering the western part of greater Britannia. At top sped, and with little rest, the trio arrived on the westernmost coast, overlooking a bay where a tranquil sea shone turquoise under the glittering sun. From where they stood, the ocean extended as far as the eye could see.
“So where is it?” Gallagher hopped off Ferand’s back as Phoebe slid down behind him.
“There’s a passage on the shore. It takes a discerning eye to see it. Follow me.” Ferand led them down a switchback for hours until they arrived at a path that seemed to disappear into the sea.
Phoebe looked at Gallagher wearily. Ferand set off ahead of them with a confident gait. He slowed to a trot, turned his head, then disappeared into the swelling crest of a wave and was gone. Gallagher stopped.
“But we must follow him,” Phoebe pushed past Gallagher. Then she too, disappeared. Gallagher held his breath, and ducked into an oncoming wave. He arrived dry, standing on a shore, with the outline of a small town rising in the east above it. He let out a breath.
“It’s never a good idea to hold your breath,” Ferand giggled. “Now, here we are." A village cast in moonlight came into view. Ferand led his squirrel companions to the outskirts of the town, up a slight hill where a cottage punctuated the horizon. Based on the way he navigated, this wasn’t his first visit.
“She’ll be expecting —”, and before he could finish his sentence, a woman opened the door. “Ferand,” she nodded, apprising her guests, “You’ve brought them. Good. Come through.”
Gallagher and Phoebe glanced at one another. The woman’s smooth face glowed with iridescence. Her emerald eyes sparkled. She smelled of myrrh and comfrey, and the scent of an apple orchard deep into autumn. On her slender fingers she wore heavy, silver rings with black stones.
“Well, she doesn’t bite,” Ferand barked, “But I will if you two don’t hurry up. Someone may see us.” The squirrels scampered over the threshold.
A fire was lit in the hearth off the foyer. Shelves covered the walls throughout, each filled to bursting with books and manuscripts, some with gilded bindings, others one page turn from crumbling. There many whose spines Gallagher could not read. He didn’t think Ferand could either, but then, who knew what this fox could do. He was from the distinguished Adarraren family, whose name in the ancient language of Basque meant “of the branch.” There was debate among those of the Council as to which branch the family claimed. Some believed that the Adarraren’s name came from the yew, a tree connected to the underworld and a magic deemed dangerous for those too weak to control it. The Adarraren’s reputation aligned with the latter origin story more so than the provenance they claimed: that they were the rightful heirs to the oak, the one for whom Contessa’s family served as custodian.
The woman’s shadow danced in the flicker of the firelight as she walked towards the hearth. She took a seat in a chair nearby while the the animals came to rest at her feet. “I know what brings you here Ferand, but what I don’t understand is the allegiance you’ve made with members of the Council.”
“It’s of little consequence to you, Dôn.”
“Everything has consequences, Ferand, most of all actions made in haste. The Winds bring word of the girl’s disappearance. That is why you are here. And this allegiance — though I believe a foolhardy one — is meant to hasten the task of locating her. Am I correct?”
Phoebe rose to her hind paws. “You are, Madam. I am Phoebe. Gallagher was accompanying the girl, Contessa, who I believe you speak of, but Ferand interfered and the girl is lost. Please! We beg of you to help us find her. It is of dire importance.”
“Indeed, it is. But to you?” she paused, “Or me?”
“To all of us,” Gallagher leaped up, fierce and tall, the firelight drawing sharp angles at his eyes.
“None of you realize who you are up against. Do you? The Winds have told me where Contessa has gone. I can help you get there, but beware. Sending you to where she walks is where my help ends. She may be close to her grandfather, but she is even closer to an enemy to all of you. She’s with Arianrhod now.”
All three creatures glanced at one another. Ferand’s eyes darted back to the woman. “Are you sure?”
“Do you question the wind when it blows, Ferand? Do not question me. She walks with her now. As you know, my blood permits me from interfering in this matter. It is also my blood that tells me where she is —“
“Your blood?” Phoebe was the youngest member recently initiated into the Council. Her ignorance was unintentional. Sensing this, Dôn took pity on her. “It seems you have some history to learn, young lady. I am Arianrhod’s mother. My daughter possesses many skills, not least of all those which seem to get her into trouble. Some time ago, in a jealous fit, she placed a spell on a man so that he would never have a wife. To counteract the spell, a king and a magician conspired and created Blodeuwedd, a fair maiden made of meadowsweet, oak and broom — the shrub — not what you sweep your floors with, of course. Before she was turned into an owl by the same people who created her, she aligned with Contessa’s grandfather and many other creatures to create the Council of Quercus. She was made of oak, after all.”
“Pardon my lack of knowledge, madam, but your daughter is an immortal, is she not?”
“Of course, but while we can do many things — like living forever — we can not go back in time.
“So,” Phoebe proceeded cautiously, “do you believe that all should have access to the oaks, like Ferand?
“I do, which is why I don’t understand this allegiance that Ferand has made with you, but I also know my daughter would love to keep access only for herself. If I am to help, it is to ensure access for everyone.”
“But the Council of the Quercus didn’t create the rule that allows only certain people access. I’m still learning the Council’s history, but I do know that rule was created before the immortals in a time before time. The Council only enforces the rule and protects the mother tree. A twig in the wrong hands, well — could that not even bring about your demise, too?”
“Perhaps,” Dôn stared faraway into the fire. “All the more reason for you to stop my daughter from whatever she is planning. I have something that can help.“
“But I thought the Adarraren’s had the only twig!” Ferand’s eyes narrowed at Dôn.
“It’s not a twig, although there are three. One the Adarrarens possess, the second, Contessa’s family I imagine for safekeeping, and the third remains missing, although I am certain my daughter has it.”
Gallagher was quietly putting together the pieces of the stories unfolding about the room. “Your daughter is the sorceress who stole from the tree. Isn’t she?”
“If only she were just a sorceress. Worse, she is bitter. With the staff, I can help you get to where she is with Contessa. Beyond that, I can not interfere.”
Ferand shot a glance to the squirrels. It was time to go. “Fair Dôn, we accept whatever you can offer.”
Dôn rose from her chair and crossed the room to a tall, narrow cupboard in a dark corner. From a hidden pocket in her robes she procured a key, inserted it into the wall, and opened a hidden door. When she turned around and walked towards the animals, she carried a staff.
“This has been in my family so long, it is as though it is a relative. It was given to me in gratitude from King Arthur, who had it among his many treasures he carried back from the East. I’m told it is the biblical staff of Moses, passed on to him from Adam, who had used it to work the soil in the Garden of Eden. It’s made of almond wood, and later, someone added sapphires to it.” She swiveled the staff in her hand, catching the blue in the firelight. The staff was etched with faint symbols unfamiliar to all.
“What does it say?” Phoebe stepped closer to examine the etchings on the rod.
“No one knows, really. I do know that an Egyptian magician planted it in his garden so that no other could possess it, but one day Moses saw it and read the letters on it. As only Moses could read it, the priest believed Moses to be its rightful heir and the staff was passed onto him. What little remains of the symbols is lost, I’m afraid. Even to me. I’m not sure they matter anymore for the staff still serves its purpose in granting victories over one’s adversaries. More than that, it symbolizes all that humans are capable of: deep, rich growth. Unlike my daughter and despite what you might think of me, I’m honestly quite fond of humans.” Dôn straightened her stance and gazed admiringly at the staff.
“We shall go to the nearest oak grove with a stream. Come now.”
The trio followed behind Dôn, who walked solemnly with the staff. Were it not for the sapphires that glimmered under the late summer sun, it could have been easily mistaken for any branch used to aid pilgrims walking across the land.
∆
Contessa thought that she would hear the heart beat and see the green tendrils when she closed her eyes again, but Arianrhod only asked her only to come through the tree.
“But I had to stand still last time,” she protested.
“Follow me.” Arianrhod had come through the the other side of the tree’s opening, waving Contessa forward. Contessa stepped out from between its split trunks. The air smelled differently. Mint and violets mingled with sweet grass. Arianrhod moved across the ground like a breeze, her feet appeared to hover above the earth. They left no footprints.
When they had walked for some time, they came upon a low wall overgrown with a vine whose rainbow hues foretold the coming fall. They passed under a trellis of late-blooming clematis, its fragrant blossoms mingling with a fading row of still-sharp mint. Contessa took a deep breath. The path that unfolded before her was a maze, enclosed by a holly hedge just high enough that she could not see her destination. She walked for some time behind Arianrhod. She wanted to ask her questions, but thought better of it. Finally, the shorn holly deposited them to the edge of a large circle. The path she had been walking on appeared to be long spokes that connected an outer ring to a center where a mass of gorse arose like a wild flame.
“What is that?” Contessa walked towards the bush to examine it. Arianrhod remained still.
Upon closer inspective, the bush was covered in thousands of tiny blooms among its densely packed boughs. Suddenly, she spied movement between them, then saw the outline of a face.
“It’s Papa!” she exclaimed.
“Contessa!” Her grandfather mouthed. But she could not hear him. Whatever sound was made inside remained within. “Papa!” Contessa went to grab on the gorse, then stopped, its thorns seeming to grow in length. She turned around to call to Arianrhod for help.
But Arianrhod stood behind her, a presence that seemed to press her closer to the gorse. Arianrhod then rose above her, several feet several feet from the ground. Contessa could barely breathe.
“Well done, Contessa!” Arianrhod laughed. “You found your grandfather, but what good will that do now? You are just like your aunt, meddling. If only she listened to your grandfather—“
“What have you done to her?” Contessa gasped for air.
“The same I will do to all of you time walkers,” Arianrhod waved her hands and the gorse opened up, then surrounded Contessa, too.
∆