Return to Me - By Morgan O'Neill Page 0,66
flesh.
“No!” King Sergeric screamed a final time, his voice carried off by a breeze.
He lost his footing and fell.
A final glimpse of the sun, before his eyes were gouged from his head, but darkness did not end his pain, blazing white-hot until he was torn apart, until death finally ended his agony.
Chapter 19
September, A.D. 415, Ravenna, Italy
It was the fifth day of September, the day of the blood moon, the second one to occur since she had arrived in Ravenna, the third in less than a year.
By royal command, Dipsas had been given leave to be alone again in Venus’s garden. She held the crimson legatus cloak and childhood bulla that had belonged to Quintus Pontius Flavus Magnus, objects that until now had languished under lock and key in one of the emperor’s private warehouses.
She thought back to her previous sojourn in Venus’s garden, when she found the niche behind the statue. At that time, she had not been able to envision Magnus, having touched nothing he had cherished.
Such fools! Why hadn’t anyone in the palace thought of requisitioning his things from the warehouse before this? Was she supposed to divine their existence?
She shook her head, determined, at long last, to find out more about him. She needed this knowledge, for in this, she would have the very thing no one else could provide Honorius: information on where he and his flute-playing wife could be found.
The answer awaits, for the blood moon is coming. It is coming.
She held the cloak to her nose, inhaled, and waited. A faint hint of sacred myrrh tweaked her senses, and she pictured a tall man with dark hair, but nothing more.
She waited. Still nothing. She glanced at Venus, and the statue stared back, mute and unseeing. Had the goddess fled?
Her guts knotted. Had she lost her powers?
Anxious, she pressed the bulla to her thundering heart. “Speak to me! Goddess of Old, I beseech you! Before the blood moon rises, you must reveal the truth! Please, Great One, where are Quintus Pontius Flavus Magnus and Gigiperrin hiding? I would ask for their destruction, for they wronged my nearest kin, my only, my dearest sister!”
She felt sudden warmth emanating from the golden bulla. It was deep, penetrating, and gentle. The goddess had taken note of her pleas. She was here.
“O Venerable One,” she repeated, rocking back and forth, “where is Quintus Pontius Flavus Magnus?”
Dipsas closed her eyes. The warmth spread over her body, as if she stood before a glowing campfire. She did not open her eyes; she did not dare. Long moments passed. She felt the glow engulf her until the heat flared into a fire raging through her veins, until she fell, screaming in pain, as if she were being burned alive. She thrashed and rolled toward the water of Venus’s pool to immerse herself, to save herself, and then the heat was gone.
You must not curse them.
The words came softly, as if they had been spoken from somewhere inside her skull, just behind her right ear. Dipsas clawed the earth and shivered, stock-still and suddenly cold as ice.
You must not curse them.
Why not? her mind cried out.
They shelter your blood kin, the fey-child, the one called Margareta.
Stunned, Dipsas opened her eyes and stared out. A vision rose above the water, that of a beautiful girl with white blond hair and eyes that sparkled bright blue. Deeply thankful the goddess had stayed her hand against the curse, Dipsas struggled to roll over and caught a glimpse of the Seven Sisters twinkling above, blue as Margareta’s eyes.
Randegund’s granddaughter! Dipsas knew this child would surpass all of them. She would be great one day, and must be protected.
Dipsas threw off the shackles of age and terror, and scrambled to her feet. She twisted her body with all her might, until she could raise her arms to the sky in blessing.
The moon was rising, blood red and bewitching. “Margareta!” she called out. “Hear me, precious one. You shall be safe! The goddess has spoken.”
She closed her eyes and was blessed with a final vision; that of the beautiful fey-child standing on a distant shore, living far to the west, beyond the Pillars of Hercules, beyond Honorius’s reach.
“Margareta, beautiful pearl,” Dipsas said the name gently, like a prayer. And she resolved to help her grandniece in any way possible, to curse those who would seek her ruin, and protect those who now provided her shelter.
Chapter 20
Livid, Honorius headed to the realm of the magicians, deep within his palace.