DISCLAIMER : Go to chapters I, II, III, IV, V and VI if still confused. If you are still confused, I suggest going to your local Fite Uhgehnst Ill-lit-err-uh-see Center.
AUTHOR'S NOTE : Wow, I just want to give a huge thanks to everyone who reviewed. You guys are awesome and truly made and motivated me day. If you ever come to good ole' KC, I'd be more than happy to shake your hand…or maybe not. You could all be fifty year old balding child pornographers who only go to legit sites every now and then to throw off the FBI for all I know. Seriously, though, thanks a bunch. And if you leave more after this chapter, you might not have to wait the obscene amount of time it took me to write this chapter to get the next one!
Also, I read Shatterglass a while back. Oh sweet Brigit, it was good. If you're a Tris shipper, go and get it. If you have no money, consult your local lending library!
And now, as sure as the U.S. government has violated the Geneva Convention codes concerning prisoners of war at Camp X-Ray, here it is!
East of the Alter
by Anyanka
Ch. VII
" 'Lover! Lover!' cried for the loverless maiden
'Suitor! Suitor!' cried for the bed that she laid in
And the last song cried out forever and ever.
'Mother, Mother, I swim the waters of Rapture!' "
- Finnish Epic
There are few things in the world that are certainties, and it is best to learn that at an age when the caul is still fresh on the mind rather than dismissing it with a shake of the head and, in your later years, plunging headstrong into the shimmering, blue depths of naiveté that no one could pull you out from before lungs were forced to take in and choke on the damning simplicities that have replaced the air. However, few are seldom to accept this truth and enter into their youths as whimsical creatures who openly show their hearts, their souls to passerbys, expecting nothing wicked to result from it. It is for certain, one impetuous youth might say, that this lass is my true love. It is certain, another might quip amongst daydreaming companions, that truth is powerful, omnipotently so. That love conquers all, that everything happens for a reason, that good triumphs over evil. 'Naiveté, naiveté, naiveté' the world (along with the humble scribe before you) calls in raspier tones.
The only certainty of which I am presently aware of is this: the sun will rise in the east and continue movement until it finally settles in the west. Many would do well to learn this by heart, for many a lives can change in one swift and simple course of this certain certainty. The sun will always rise and continue movement, but those who had failed to take this certainty into account had not noticed, and they now found that precious hours had fled from them like vermin from the light, and the encroachment of time spelled a future uncertain.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The Hub shone with a peculiarly bright glisten as Niko's eyes impatiently darted back and forth, letting his eyes rest upon it for a moment only to have the building anxieties within him demand recognition, which he gave to it by tearing his eyes away and scanning the pathways for any sign of Tris or Briar. It's nearly two, he thought to himself, hands fiddling with the velvet trim of his overrobe. I hope that Tris hasn't gotten herself lost, no knowing how to get around…but Briar should be here. I will thoroughly throttle that boy's neck if he's not here in a Lakik minute.
Niko stood in the yard of Discipline, forming a loose circle with Sandry, Daja, and their teachers. Sandry and Daja shot worried looks at each other. ~They should be here by now, shouldn't they?~ Sandry's magickal voice asked Daja.
Sandry's eyes were still puffy and pink from the crying she had only finished a few hours earlier. After Tris's lambasting at the breakfast table, she had fled the cottage and ran to the loom houses only to curl up on rough hemp mats in the corner, closing her eyes and fervently listening to the constant thumping of the looms in the rooms below her, pretending that the sound wasn't that of looms but of the heartbeats of her long dead mother as she held her, with warm, full arms, close to her chest and stroked her hair while whispering soothing words.
Daja leaned against the wooden frame of the covered supply cart that Niko had brought with him for the ritual, pausing to suck at a piece of meat caught between her teeth before she answered her friend. My friend, she thought to herself, looking at Sandry who patiently waited for an answer. Not some bigot who's been dancing around me with a mask on all these years. She took a deep breath through flared nostrils to try and calm herself down. Even though she had not yet voiced them, she could feel the words rising from the base of her spine and beginning to swell within her throat. I hate her.
~Yes, I suppose, although I doubt they're together. Briar was furious at her (even more than me, she added to herself), so who knows, maybe he's killed her and is trying to find a place for the body.~
~Daja!~ Sandry reprimanded her in a surprised tone, ~don't ever say such things, they could come true. But you're right, they probably aren't with each other. Briar's probably off skulking and Tris is…well, she's probably off skulking, too.~
"There!" Niko cried in a manner that still managed to show his good breeding. He turned precisely on the heel and headed towards the redheaded figure that had just emerged from the woods. Tris held her skirts with both hands as she slightly panted, her face red from the exhaustion of her rapid hike back to Discipline. She met Niko and turned her face up to his.
"You're almost late," he told her in an impassive tone.
"Almost. No need to spend a minute longer with the lot of you, I figured."
"Indeed," was all Niko replied as he turned from her, but not before he beckoned her to follow him. "You wouldn't by chance," he asked over his shoulder as he resumed his former position, "know what's become of young Briar? He, too, is nowhere to be found."
"This never happened. It has to be that way. When we go back, none of this ever happened. It was a fluke. You must pretend that you haven't seen me all day, and I the same with you. Please, it must be so, it's for your, it for everyone's own good. If they ask anything, anything at all, you must betray me with your words, for I will do the same with you."
"But will that make it easier for me to betray you with my heart?"
Tris blinked with a look of bafflement upon her face. "You mean that swelling toad at breakfast earlier today? Perhaps he's done us all a favor and found his way underneath the wheels of a passing cart," she remarked, looking up and frowning at the sun. It had moved much more quickly today, she supposed.
"Then perhaps you could join him there," Daja scathingly replied through clenched teeth. One hand clenched her staff tighter, preparing for an attack, an instinct she had carried around with her since childhood.
Tris refused to take her eyes off the sun, letting the pure sunlight burn away the pain she felt at hearing Daja's words instead of letting tears wash them away.
Seeing that Tris was not going to respond, Daja sighed and turned her attentions back to the piece of caught meat. It was almost loose, she could feel it.
"I'm here," a gruff voice called out from a bend on the path that led to Gorse's kitchen.
"But how am I supposed to act? I don't know if I can do it."
"You can and you will. Gods, do you think this is going to be easy for me either? Just…just do your best. We have to do our best, or else…or else I don't know."
Briar looked as he often did, annoyed at having to be anywhere where he was supposed to. He walked the few remaining feet of the path before he joined them.
"Excellent. We have just enough time," Niko said in a clipped way, motioning Daja to stand aside as he rummaged through the cart. "Lark, Rosethorn, Frostpine, if you would stand at your appointed spots with your younger counterparts," he politely commanded as he pulled out several large, black candles.
Banishment colors, Tris thought to herself, attempting to be stoic. She noticed that the wax had carefully been etched with markings to represent The Void, a measure done to add extra potency to banishing spells.
"Come here, Sandry," Lark gently called as she took her position in the west, gesturing for Sandry to stand in front of her. Sandry was obedient, as were Briar and Daja. Soon Daja and Frostpine stood in the south with Rosethorn and Briar standing in the north. The east looked eerily empty.
Niko finished unloading the contents of the wagon and placed them in the center of the circle.
"Trisana, if you would be so kind as to take the place in the east. I would join you, but I will be performing the ritual."
Trisana jerked her head in a crude nod and took her place in the east. She felt a slight surge, as did all the other, as the circle was completed. Completed only to be broken, she mused.
Niko uncorked a glass bottle the shade of the midnight sky and passed it to Rosethorn. "Please, everyone, begin meditating. Once you are calm, take a draught from this bottle and pass it sunwise. After you've finished that, keep your eyes closed and I'll anoint you." Heads were nodded as eyes drifted closed.
While they meditated, Niko continued to propel the ritual. Pulling out an athame, he paused to consecrate it and give it reverence. The double-edged ritual knife glinted in the sun as Niko quietly chanted over it. Tris could sense what he was doing and she felt a grim shudder make its way through her body.
The athame represented the two sides of magick, the dark and the light. By itself, magick is neutral, but with human interference it can take any shape or side. The athame, if she remembered correctly and she was sure that she did, represented the neutrality, but the incantations that Niko mumbled over it called upon it, beseeched it to forget its double nature and think of only its negative nature. He wants it to be only dark magick so that it will seek out and crave light magick so it can be neutral again, she realized. It's going to seek out and take my magick away from them.
Tris was distracted by the bottle that was handed to her and she took a swig. The bitter liquid burned at her throat and attempted to make its way back up, but she held it down. She set the bottle down on the dry earth and waited, attempting to resume her meditation.
Niko took the sharp tip of the blade and nicked his wrist, letting blood slowly drip from it. Taking the athame in the bleeding hand, he held it high in the air and spun it in a sunwise circle. Tris felt something wet and war hit her face.
Blood.
She cringed deep within herself. Blood still made her woozy, even though she had been forced on several occasion to spill her own to strengthen her spells. He did say he was going to anoint us, the more practical side of her said. She sank back into meditation and tried to disregard the sensation of the blood languidly running down her face.
"Now," Niko's voice quietly called, still holding the athame in his hand, "please take a moment to think about Tris. Think about her and her magick. Gather up those memories, the power, and coil it into…into a thread perhaps, or an iron rod or a fresh shoot. Tris, you do the same except think about your past few days here at Discipline and any magick that you find within you that feels like it's not totally yours. Now, everyone, send them down into the ground, only about four feet, though. I'll give you all a few minutes."
I wonder what they're sending down there, Tris pondered as she dutifully searched her mind, grabbing for her memories of her bro-of Briar and Sandry and Daja. It's best that I don't know. It's best that way, it's best.
She continued accumulating everything she could think of, and then formed them all into a tight lightening bolt and plunged it into the ground below her. In the meanwhile, Niko had lit the black candles and placed them at the foot of each teenager, along with a sprinkling of herbs and essential oils. He also laid at their feet a foot long white cord, a woven square of cotton, and a tin basket of about two feet in height and one foot in width. The cords and squares would serve a magickal purpose while the baskets would be far more pragmatic and practical. Tris, however, only received the tin basket.
All things were set.
Still gripping the athame, he finally followed his own orders and began to pull memories of Tris away from him. He found that he was far more emotional then he thought he would be, and as his hand gripped the cold steel hilt his mind loosened its grip on the warmth of Tris's memory. If I had had a child. The thought came from nowhere and yet it was there, within himself. If I had had a child… Niko shook his head bitterly and sent Trisana into the earth into he form of a ray of light.
All the others already had sent down their respective objects and were awaiting further instruction. Hair on all arms was standing on edge, and a queasiness swept over every stomach.
"Everyone but Tris take the square of cloth at your feet into your hands. Focus on it and consider it an empty pallet that needs to be filled with only you. Pour yourself, your magick into the cloth for safe keeping and to distinctly keep you separate. Even as the flesh of human bodies shall decay and melt into the body of the Earth's, your magicks shall never blend again with this godhead, and this square will see to that." His last sentence was spoken with a tone of formality, suggesting that the words carried with them a magickal weight that should be revered and heeded.
Soon each square glowed a pale color, be it green, blue or red, and beads of sweat had begun to form on everyone's brow. Everyone, that is, but Tris, who remained in her meditative state.
"Your hand," Niko gently whispered near her ear. She jumped, not knowing that he had gotten that close to her.
"Give me your hand. I'm going to have to cut it."
Tris's eyes nearly shot open with surprise. "What?" she asked him quietly, trying not to disturb the others. "You're going to cut me? I can do it myself, I'm not afraid of the pain."
"No, I must be the one to make the cut."
"But you said that if a mage ever used anyone else's blood in a spell-"
"Yes, I did. The repercussions for such an act are great, however…however you are not a mage. You are not human, and therefore I shall not be judged in my actions." He took a pause. "The ritual calls for this…for your blood to be stolen from you, the ultimate act of hate."
With that, he stiffly reached down and jerked her hand up. For a brief moment Tris felt a wincing pain, and then it was as if fire flowed from her hands. She stuffed her uncut hand in her mouth to keep her from crying out.
"Here," Niko commanded, "cup your hand like this, so that it fills with your blood. Once and only when it is full throw it into the air."
Niko turned from her and stood in the center of the circle once more. "And as the seeds of turmoil grew within the Earth, the Sun looked down in anger and sought an answer-"
The heat in Tris's hand was becoming unbearable and she began to feel woozy. It was a dis-easing feeling, knowing that you were bleeding so much that you could fill your own hand in a moment's time.
"-and found it within itself. To cleanse the Earth, to save the Earth, it sent down itself in a rain of fire-"
She could hold it no longer. Her hand was burning off, flesh melting away to leave exposed tendons and nerves. With a muffled yelp, she threw her hand into the air, feeling the wind pick up her blood, ripping it from her skin, only to send it back down as burning rain.
"-to save what it could by destroying it."
The blood spattered the faces of those in the circle, and shocked cries of pain met the ears of those in the circle. It was as if her blood ate away at their skin. Like I'm attacking them, Tris thought.
Niko, his own skin dotted with tiny burns quickly called out the next instructions. "And so you see she is killing you, torturing you. You must banish this godhead from your life, and quickly! Take the cord at your feet and make three knots. Curse her name in the first. Damn her in the second. Banish her in the third. Remember, she is the one causing you this writhing pain!"
He quickly reached for his own cord and furiously began tying knots.
With each knot tied, it was as if a sharp blow was delivered to Tris's stomach. She hunched over and felt the wind leave her body. She gasped for breath, but none came, only more blows. She doubled over and fell to the ground, clawing at her throat, trying to force air to enter her body while she was racked with phantom pains.
She could hear their voices in her head amidst her airless haze of pain. "I hate you, Tris," Daja spat. "I damn you, Tris," Lark screamed. "I banish you forever, Trisana Chandler," Briar's voice bellowed inside of head.
No, Tris thought. No, don't let them- her thoughts faded away as her body's craving for oxygen began to overpower her senses. Her hands began to weakly flail around her throat, now no longer making scratches but instead smearing around the blood she had drawn.
I'm going to die. I'm going to die because of them, because of what they're doing to me. Her body convulsed as a spasm made her legs and arms contort in unnatural ways as her fresh wounds continued to bleed. I hate them. I hate them. I HATE them!
Everything stopped. No sound, no sight, no pain.
The Void.
"As the sun destroyed, so mote it be," clamored Niko, plunging the athame into the earth beneath him. Instantaneously, the darkmagicked blade found the lightmagicked powers that everyone had put into the earth, and drew them to it with such force that a tremor passed through the earth and threw everyone off their feet.
And so Trisana was separated.
Everyone reached for the tin baskets, now understanding what they were for, and wretched in them.
Tris remained still, glazed eyes staring up into the sky. An uncanny smile cracked the dried blood on her face. She was finally going to see Mother.
Reduce, Reuse, Recycle, REVIEW!!!! As always, you can reach me at magdalena134@hotmail.com . Also, because of stinginess, I do not subscribe to the "author alert" system. If you would, however, like to receive an email warning you when my next haphazard update is going to occur, just email me with the request. Peace out.