“I’m flying!” Mandalee cried, laughing in joy and exhilaration.
“See, I told you it would work!” Cat called back from her vantage point, sitting on a cloud.
“Remind me never to doubt you again,” the White cleric replied.
“Oh, doubt me all you want,” her friend countered, “I do! I just see it as a challenge to do it anyway.”
“In that case,” Mandalee replied, “remind me to challenge you as often as possible because this is amazing! I… AM… FLYING! Woohoo!”
*****
Technically, gentle reader, Mandalee was not really flying. She was actually sitting on the back of a giant albatross, and it was flying, but that’s just semantics. As for my mother, ‘sitting on a cloud’ isn’t just a metaphor, though it would be an accurate one. She had been working on her druid magic and realised that if she could change the density enough, it would be possible to walk on air. (Again, not a metaphor.) Cat thought it was a better approach than trying to levitate. Floating around would be so undignified. Of course, she could just change into a red-banded falcon, or a tawny owl, which was another thing she’d recently added to her repertoire, but then she couldn’t talk. Sympathic communication had its limitations. The other advantage of being in midair in her natural half-Faery form was that she could bring Pyrah along, whenever she was visiting her half-Faery friend.
To say Pyrah ‘wasn’t keen’ on being stuck in a pocket dimension at Catriona’s slightest whim, would be a gross understatement. Not that she was that much happier being in midair. Honestly, Cat wouldn’t have believed it possible for anyone to complain so colourfully by sympathic means, but somehow Pyrah managed to get her point across…repeatedly.
My mother’s Conclave was a good eighteen months behind her now, and with no more college, after their success in tracking down the real Trickster in Compton, she had decided to join Mandalee full time, demon hunting. Jacob had been sad to see her go, but he had always known he could never tie her down. He wasn’t sure anybody ever would. (‘Tie her down’ is mostly a metaphor, although there had been a few occasions…)
*****
Demon hunting proved to be the perfect practical outlet for both young women to push the boundaries of their abilities, and sometimes my mother would come up with one of her ridiculous radical ideas. On this day, she reasoned that Mandalee’s special relationship with nature should surely extend beyond animals to birds. And if Mandalee could just befriend one that was large enough then, in effect, she would be able to fly.
Cat learned to adapt her access to her pocket dimension so that it would not be affected by Mandalee’s clerical magic, thereby avoiding any more clothing mishaps. She had also learned from her experience of being twice stuck in her friend’s traps, cut off from nature and therefore the source of her magic. She was determined never to let that happen again, especially when the solution was so simple: carry nature with her at all times. Since druid magic couldn’t create something directly from magic alone, she needed ingredients that she could manipulate. An extra bottle of water gave her access to any water or ice-based spells. A few herbs gave her control of plants, even when there were none around. She had also learned to carry a vial of sand from which to create what she called ‘Nature’s Mirror,’ for cosmetic purposes. To her, carrying a selection of small pebbles, weighing nothing at all, meant she had with her the potential for a boulder, a wall, an entire stone shelter, if necessary.
Perhaps the most important lesson she had learned was that, unlike wizard and clerical magic, for druids, size was unimportant for the most part. The scale of what she wanted to create made no difference. Just like in nature: the movement of a single pebble could start a landslide; a slight shift of snow could cause an avalanche; a single spark could lead to a forest fire.
An ice cube in her drink or a towering wall of ice; a potted plant or a towering tree – it was all the same to her. If Cat could provide the seeds, nature could deliver the garden. For the moment, she was wary of doing too much with fire-based spells, for fear of what she might unleash if her ambition outstripped her control. She also didn’t bother with any kind of animal control – that was more Mandalee’s field, although it wasn’t really control, but rather co-operation. Catriona’s interest in animals was mostly confined to shapeshifting into them. Wolf-form was her latest success, excellent for long-range land-based scouting and, if necessary, self-defence. She’d even dabbled with a mole form for burrowing underground. Mandalee couldn’t for the life of her imagine why her friend would want to do that.
In between demon hunts, the two young women pushed each other’s magical abilities. Mandalee would adapt her demon traps to try and counter Cat’s ability to escape, forcing Cat to think up a new way to get out. This helped the cleric adapt her magic again and that in turn, challenged Cat’s magical imagination once more. In addition to her magic, Cat pulled her archery skills out of mothballs. Mandalee was highly proficient both in hand-to-hand combat and with long-range weapons. In many ways, her fighting style reminded Cat of her mother, except that as much as her friend seemed to dance on the edge, she never crossed the line into a real battle frenzy. She always kept her head, even when she got very drunk. Long-range, it was a close call who was better, and as with their magic, the competition served to raise both their standards.
Council of Wizards rules allowed a mage to train with a single bladed weapon for defence purposes. Just in case they were ever in a situation where their magic wouldn’t work, such as in an anti-magic field. Cat had chosen the bow and arrow, which she still routinely carried in her pocket dimension.
Two things had started to bother my mother about the Council generally and the reason behind that rule specifically. In general, the name – Council of Wizards – had begun to feel pejorative. Druids were supposedly acknowledged by the Council and definitely subject to their laws, and yet still it was called the Council of Wizards. Not to mention the fact that many female wizards preferred ‘sorceress’ which, from a certain point of view, made the name sexist, as well.
As for that specific rule, the concept of an anti-magic field seemed bizarre to Catriona. She tried to explain her thoughts on this to Mandalee one day.
“Surely,” she said, “an anti-magic field is itself a form of magic. If magic doesn’t work within that field, then how does the field operate?”
Unfortunately, gentle reader, Aunt Mandalee was never much of a one for philosophy – she left that to Shyleen. Nor could she muster much enthusiasm for studying, unlike my mother. Conversely, Cat was no match for Mandalee at close range fighting – it wasn’t Catriona’s style. But diversity is strength, and it worked well for them. While Mandalee was training her body, Catriona was training her mind. She was still very much focussed on her staff, her Angel and of course Shifting Stars. Nor had she forgotten her promise to Mandalee. All of her fields of study were progressing – they were just progressing slowly.
Catriona had managed to get her hands on star charts from before what she had begun to refer to as ‘The Day of the Angel’ to try and distract herself from the fact that it was also ‘The Day of the Monster.’ The Monster that killed her parents. She had gained this knowledge from a couple of helpful mages who had an interest in astronomy. The wizard helped because he was afraid she would demolish his home if he didn’t. The sorceress simply wanted to exchange one book for another. A rare magical text she had been searching for. If there was one thing Cat was good at, it was sniffing out obscure references, so in this way, she fell into a new career as an information trader. Still, on a couple of occasions, she had needed to demolish the wizard’s tower to get what she wanted. She always gave them two chances to co-operate without punitive measures, but on her third visit, she would use any means necessary to keep them out of their home, so she could work her magic without harming them. And she always rebuilt their homes, afterwards.
So far, she’d confirmed that part of one constellation had definitely moved out of shape on ‘The Day of the Angel’ and another section had done so on at least one occasion described in Shifting Stars. She wasn’t yet ready to accept a causal relationship between that and her staff, but she was intrigued by the possibility, which spurred her on to solve more of the puzzles that allowed her to unlock another level of the security protecting the tantalising higher planar energy at its core. Not that she was especially interested in the power itself. Her fascination lay in the understanding of what it was, why it was so locked away and what knowledge she might gain not just from the final answer, but from the exploration.
Everything my mother learned, she kept in a journal. Although she always seemed to be quite capable of working on five different puzzles in her head, simultaneously, the very process of writing helped her. Putting pen to paper was something she enjoyed for its own sake. (Like mother, like daughter!) However, as someone who understood the value of knowledge, Cat had developed her own shorthand, which she never shared with anyone, not even Mandalee, ultimately taking the secret language to her grave. Much of her knowledge she shared, but because no-one could read her journals for themselves, she could be sure to do so on her own terms.
Still, even as Catriona had fun with her friend, there was a sense of frustration bubbling underneath. What she needed was a library. Books and resources all in one place. Ideally, one that had lain untouched for a century or two, so that she could research possible earlier sightings of her staff, her Angel and perhaps more shifting stars. It was a bit of an ask, but there was a solution. She’d thought of it some time ago; she’d just hoped to find another way. Unfortunately, the only other possibility was overseas, and she had not the means to get there. That left her with her original idea and her original problem: there was a wizard in the way. Or rather, a sorceress.
As I’ve said, gentle reader, that was familiar territory for her by now, but Catriona knew this mage would be unlike any she had faced before. Still, the only other choice was to give up…and that just wasn’t an option.
Even from her unfamiliar avian point-of-view, Mandalee could read her friend by now.
“Let’s land and talk,” she suggested.
Cat nodded and manipulated the air around her to create Windy Steps all the way to the ground, while Mandalee asked her albatross to glide down gently. Once on the ground, the bird flew away but promised to return whenever she called.
“Come on then, Cat,” said Mandalee as the pair sat down. “Out with it. You’ve got another of your ridiculous radical plans, haven’t you?”
Cat nodded.
“But this – whatever this is – is different, isn’t it?”
“What makes you think so?”
“You’re not happy about it.”
With a rueful smile, Cat replied, “You’re not going to be happy about it, either.
“OK, now I definitely need to know!”
Steeling herself, Catriona took a deep breath and said, “There’s only one place I can go, now, that could have what I need for my research. All my research. My staff, my Angel, my magic, the stars…” she looked her friend in the eye, “…you.”
“And that place is…?” Mandalee prompted.
“The Black Tower,” Cat stated, flatly.
“What!” Mandalee gasped. “You can’t possibly be serious!”
Cat insisted she was. “I told you, you wouldn’t like it!”
“You’re planning to go up against Dreya the Dark? There isn’t enough alcohol in the world to get me drunk enough to make that sound like a good idea!”
“It’s not a good idea,” Cat replied. “It’s just the only idea.”
“OK, let me get this straight. You’re going to – what – ask Dreya the Dark very nicely twice, and when she refuses, assuming the sorceress hasn’t killed you, you’re going to attack her and demolish the Black Tower itself?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Cat shook her head. “I’m not going to attack her; I’m desperate, not suicidal. No, I need to do something far more difficult: I need to impress Dreya the Dark.”
Mandalee snorted, “I don’t think Dreya the Dark does ‘impressed.’”
“That’s because she hasn’t met me, yet,” Cat replied.
“Oh!” Mandalee laughed. “So, because I fell for your charms after you blundered into my traps, you think Dreya’s going to do the same?”
Cat offered a mischievous smile. “Are you saying you don’t believe I can do it?”
“Message getting through, at last, is it?”
“Is mine?” Cat retorted.
“What do you mean?” Mandalee asked with a frown.
“You’re doubting me again, and I’ve told you how I react when you doubt me.”
Mandalee groaned, “You take it as a challenge to do it anyway!”
Catriona stood, confidently. “Challenge accepted!” she declared. “All I need now is your blessing.”
Mandalee, too, got to her feet and embraced her friend. “Always,” she insisted. “You know that. Whatever ridiculous radical plans you come up with, I have your back, no question.”
When they broke the hug, Cat’s smile had grown into a broad grin. “Thanks for the support,” she said, “but when I said I needed your blessing, I actually meant your clerical blessing. Specifically, on my arrows.” She pulled a few clear of her quiver. “And maybe a bottle of water or two.”
“What ever for?” Mandalee wondered.
Cat laughed. “Don’t worry, Mandalee,” she said. “It’s all part of my ridiculous radical plan!”
*****
Catriona didn’t head straight for Gaggleswick and the Black Tower. First, she had another destination in mind, flying all the way to the home of the Red wizard, Xarnas, who had trained Dreya. Nobody else could know Dreya the Dark half as well as him, and that was information she needed.
My mother had already done background research on Xarnas and discovered a useful little nugget of information. His youngest daughter was married to a Faery boy, and they were expecting their first child. Out of respect for the boy’s heritage, Xarnas wanted to give them a special gift: a book of traditional Faery children’s rhymes and lullabies. Such a book was tough to find without the right Faery contacts since human-Faery relationships were still something of a rarity at the time.
Even Catriona herself couldn’t find a book that was good enough, in her opinion, so pulling from her childhood memory of growing up among the Faery, she had written her own.
Xarnas was astonished by the book when Catriona knocked on his door, introduced herself and presented it to him.
Recognising Catriona’s Faery heritage, he told her, “I’d wager that much of what you’ve written here is deeply personal to you.”
Cat felt a pang of regret, thinking about her fantastic childhood and the parents she had lost far too soon.
“Yes, you’re right,” she nodded, sadly, “but I felt it had to be that personal, to match the value of the information I seek in exchange. In fact, no,” she reconsidered, “not ‘in exchange.’ For once, I’m not going to trade the human way. I’m happy to hear of another human-Faery couple and delighted that a great man such as yourself would respect Faery culture enough to give them such a book. In Faery culture, trade is based on giving freely that which is precious, so in that spirit, the book and all it contains are a gift from me to you, given freely, so that you might, in turn, give it freely to your daughter and son-in-law, and they eventually to their child.”
“In that case,” Xarnas said, “it seems to me, as a point of honour, that I should give freely to you something that is precious to me. What can I do for you?”
Cat told him she wanted to learn everything she could about Dreya the Dark.
Xarnas studied Catriona as he considered that. “When most people ask about Dreya, they either want to know about her extraordinary power, or how I could train what they see as a ‘servant of Darkness.’ Some have even been known to use the word ‘evil.’” He shrugged. “At least they’re honest: many others think it while not daring to say it. I suspect you are not like any of these.”
Cat shook her head, emphatically. “I would never be so pejorative,” she promised, “and I very much doubt Dreya is a servant of anything.”
She explained further that she was not only interested in Dreya's powers and abilities, but also the Faery woman herself. Her personality, her interests – to understand her, or at least begin to.
“A laudable goal,” Xarnas approved. “To seek knowledge and understanding lies at the heart of our Red order of Balance.”
With that, he invited her into his home, where he was pleased to tell her everything she wanted to know.
He also told her he had heard varying accounts of Catriona Redfletching, but the only one he paid attention to was Justaria, his successor on the Triumvirate, who described her as ‘a handful of trouble.’
“I’m certain she intended it as a compliment.”
Cat smiled a smile of secrets. “Oh, you have no idea how much trouble I can be,” she said, eyes dancing with mischief. “I’m a veritable Trickster, sometimes!”
Xarnas grinned, “And that is exactly what you will need to be to grab Dreya’s attention. If you want to impress her, you will have to fight her without ever attacking her.”
He paused for a moment, before adding, “I would never tell this to anyone else, no matter what they tried to trade, but in the spirit of giving freely, I will say this: I feel sorry for Dreya the Dark.”
Cat was stunned. She never would have imagined hearing such a statement, but now that he’d said it, she knew this was the most critical part of their conversation. This was why she’d come here. More than anything else, this was what she needed to know.
Xarnas explained himself, saying, “She once told me her ambition was to be known as the Greatest Mage Who Ever Lived.”
Cat nodded. She could understand that sentiment. She didn’t share it – she didn’t think of her druid magic in quite those terms – but she could understand it. In many ways, it was admirable: if you’re passionate about something, why not strive to be the best?
“But to my mind,” Xarnas continued, “that title is hers already. Think about it: You’ve studied the reign of terror for which Ulvarius was responsible three centuries ago?”
Again, Cat nodded, not wanting to disturb the moment by speaking.
“Well, it’s easy to imagine the story of a powerful mage, working their whole lives to try and take his tower, remove the blot on the landscape that he left behind as a deadly, terrifying legacy. Then maybe, after decades of preparation and study, at the peak of their powers, they finally succeed at some terrible personal cost, and retire to their well-earned new home.”
Once more, Cat nodded. The story practically wrote itself, and she knew the twist that was coming.
“But Dreya finishes her apprenticeship with me and takes the Black Tower in five minutes flat, with nary a scratch apart from a prick on her finger from a single rose thorn, as she invents stable blood magic practically on the spot.”
Cat knew the story – everybody did – she'd just never looked at it the way Xarnas did.
“Then, having moved in and begun to make the formerly dangerous place a thing of beauty, her new neighbours attack her! Attack her? They should have been thanking her! I swear, if she hadn’t ripped out their souls, I would have done it myself!”
Catriona placed a gentle, reassuring hand on his arm. He was almost in tears; such was his passion.
“So, what’s left for her? She’s so young, especially by Faery standards. She’s achieved more than any mage in history, and it’s not enough.”
Catriona understood. “She’s bored,” she realised. “She must be.”
“And that’s why I feel sorry for her. Be creative, Catriona, be inventive. Keep her guessing. Don’t underestimate how dangerous she is and don’t let her pin you down, literally or figuratively. Keep her off balance, never knowing what’s coming next, and I truly believe you might just succeed. I hope so, because in my opinion, knowing Dreya as I do, a ‘handful of trouble’ could be exactly what she needs in her life.”