The rite of abnegation, p.1
The Rite of Abnegation, page 1
Edited by Lisa McNeilley and Rebecca Rue
The Rite of Abnegation
Copyright © 2020 Mackenzie Flohr
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, please write to the publisher.
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Published by BHC Press
Library of Congress Control Number:
2018931567
ISBN: 978-1-947727-50-2 (Hardcover)
ISBN: 978-1-64397-093-6 (Softcover)
ISBN: 978-1-64397-094-3 (Ebook)
For information, write:
BHC Press
885 Penniman #5505
Plymouth, MI 48170
Visit the publisher:
www.bhcpress.com
Never stop believing in your dream.
Mine came true because of all of you.
Thank you for continuing
this journey with me.
Convosurí - (Con vo sue ree)
Diplofilla explotar - (Diplo fee ha explo tar)
Doltedormira - (Dol te door mee rah)
Draciolamus - (Drac see o la moose)
Emaculavi el curpas y mehartis -
(Eh ma coo la vee L coor pas ee meh har tees)
Klaocala - (Claou ca la)
Obrate combriando - (O bra te com bree on doe)
Palavaríso - (Pal ah vah ree so)
Petrosani pan war - (Petro sauny pan war)
Scamos lias - (Scamos lee as)
Sine - (See ne)
Tíofria - (Tea o free ah)
Ventin mortales - (Bentin mortales)
Vorbíllion - (Vol bee jon)
Wapakoneta - (WA-pa con eta)
Ah = I
Ah’d = I’d
Ah’m = I am
Ah’ve = I have
ain = way
ay = of
dinnae = don’t
eywis = these
fi = from
fir = for
gen up = really?
git = get
goat = got
hame = home
hudnae = had not
huv = have
intae = into
ma = my
mair = more
n = and
nae = not
oan = on
oor = our
tae = to
thair = their
thir = there
thit = that
whit = what
wi = with
wid = would
wis = was
yir = you’re
yis = you
Magic is a dream come true,
a prayer answered, a hope realized.
Magic is many things, but above all,
magic is an act of creation.
~ Migene González-Wippler ~
THE KINGDOM OF ARACELLY
1220 CE
Tell me about the Rite of Wands,” the young boy uttered under his breath.
“Not this again. Gearoid, will you please get on with it before our son gives me a headache?” Winifred McKinnon complained.
Gearoid McKinnon stared across the carriage at his twelve-year-old son nervously shuffling his feet. The noise of the horse’s hooves overpowered any other sound.
“Mortain,” Gearoid began, addressing his son with a bit of a warning. “We have already discussed this. I have informed you of everything I am permitted to.”
“Yes, I know,” Mortain said, apologetically, wiping his brown bangs out of his eyes. “But, I wish to hear it again! It won’t be much longer till we’ve reached Draconiera Mountain, and I must be prepared for the ceremony. Please, tell me the story of Lord Kaeto?”
Mortain was so distracted by thinking about what was coming that he didn’t even look around at the town. He barely noticed when the small, cosy cottages gave way to the close, tightly packed shops of midtown. The many townsfolk busily going about their daily tasks were nothing but ghosts beyond the carriage windows.
“Very well,” Gearoid said, sighing heavily. “The Rite of Wands ceremony dates back to ancient times before witches and warlocks existed in Iverna. Plague had swept the land with no cure in sight. Only when all hope seemed to be lost, an invisible gateway to the Neamh Coelum opened.”
“The gateway wasn’t really invisible, was it?” Mortain interrupted, curious.
“Yes, well, um?” Gearoid stuttered as he searched his mind for the proper answer. “Truth be told, I don’t know; I’ve never seen it in my travels.”
“Oh,” Mortain said, disappointed.
Gearoid continued, “Lord Kaeto, originating from a magnificent breed of legendary and omniscient telepathic dragons, chose to enter the gate, bringing a cure to save the people of Iverna—along with the secret of magic, which was transmitted onto the survivors residing in the kingdom of Aracelly.”
“And that’s how magic came to the kingdom!” Mortain grinned.
“Yes,” Gearoid said, a bit annoyed. “Magic was a part of Lord Kaeto and thus now a part of the kingdom of Aracelly. However, it could not merely pass from mother and father to child the way curly hair or the ability to run quickly might. First, a child had to be born in the kingdom of Aracelly for the potential for magic to be in them. Being born anywhere else in Iverna, regardless of who their parents are, would exclude them from inheriting the ability to perform magic. Second, that child would have to face an examination of the soul to prove he or she had more than simply the strength to perform magic.”
“The Rite of Wands ceremony,” Mortain uttered.
“That’s correct,” Gearoid said. “Lord Kaeto decreed that starting on the twelfth birthday, each was invited to participate. The goal is to be welcomed into the magical community as a full-fledged member. They would see a glimpse into their futures with the right to earn their wands and magical powers if their souls faced the ultimate analysis. How each person endured would determine their destiny. Some participants have gone mad during the Rite of Wands ceremony and thus failed.”
“But what if I choose not to be a warlock? What happens then?” Mortain interrupted.
“You most certainly will be a warlock if you don’t desire to be declared an outcast the rest of your life!” his mother scolded.
“Now, now, dear. He meant naught from it,” Gearoid said, attempting to calm his wife.
“Nonsense! If he wants to bring shame to our family, then so be it. I declare now such a foolish idea would never come from my side of the family. I swear, I sometimes question why my father fancied to marry me to someone of your background so eagerly.”
Gearoid sighed, exasperated.
It seemed whenever his wife would become displeased, she used the opportunity to toss insults about his family. She always felt that she had married beneath her station in life and wasn’t afraid of reminding him. He turned his attention to his son and smiled at him.
“Whatever shall happen shall be determined during your Rite of Wands. However, if you should not pass, or for some foolish reason decide not to become a warlock, you will be forced to endure the Rite of Abnegation and spend the rest of your life as a magical person without your powers. You shall be stripped of all magical abilities, your wand will be confiscated, and you will be transformed into a Magulia.”
“I do not understand. How do you get transformed, Father? Do Magulias look different?”
Gearoid shook his head. “No. They look no different than the ordinary warlock except they have had Ventin mortales cast upon them. It is a curse that all warlocks fear, for it can only be spoken from Lord Kaeto’s mouth.”
“Do we know any Magulias?”
“Of course not,” his mother spat out. “We do not associate with those people and we never will!”
“Be silent, woman!” Gearoid said.
“But, why, Mum? What’s wrong with being a regular man?”
Gearoid shot his wife a warning glance.
“That’s enough for now, Mortain. We’ve reached the market. The carriage is slowing down. Best to start preparing for boarding the ferry to Draconiera Mountain, yes?”
DRACONIERA MOUNTAIN—
THE KINGDOM OF ARACELLY
1220 CE
Draconiera Mountain—renowned for the Rite of Wands ceremony—is located in central Aracelly on an island formed from a tributary of the River Regía. The River Regía diverts with the River Magdalena, forming a circular body of water surrounding the island before connecting again at the market. It is there where witches and warlocks gather, on or after their twelfth birthdays, to board a ferry to their destination together. Mortain looked at the other witches and wizards, many standing beside their parents waiting for the ferry to arrive. He could see that they all seemed as nervous as he himself felt.
Once the ferry docked, Mortain followed his parents toward Draconiera Mountain. He was taken aback at how impossibly large the mountain was this close up. Mortain had seen the forest-covered mountain many times before but it was always from afar. The peak, which always seemed to be shrouded in misty clouds, was completely hidden from view on this day. Gently guided by his father, Mortain entered into the mountain. He began to cough only a few minutes after entering.
“Careful, Son,” his father cautioned. “Your brain is deceiving you to believe you are suffocating. Breathe as you normally would.”
Mortain took in another deep breath, feeling the hot air fill his nostrils. It felt as if someone was purposely wanting to set his lungs on fire. “It’s so hot and the air is so heavy,” he whined.
“Yes, that is true. However, it is necessary to keep the environment inside the mountain warmer in order to maintain Lord Kaeto’s temperature. It will be quite unpleasant until your body adjusts.” As they walked farther away from the entrance, the light became dimmer and dimmer. Gearoid turned to his wife. “We shall require light to lead the way through the mountain from this point forward. Would you, my dear, do us the honours?”
Winifred reached into her robe, pulling out an ebony wand with a crocoite crystal connected at the shaft.
“Scamos lias!” she chanted, lighting the path before them.
Mortain parted his lips, allowing a small gasp to escape. For as far as his eyes could see before them, there was a seemingly endless pathway. The ceiling, towering far above them, had stalactite hanging from it. The stalactites had every colour imaginable running through them. Water dripped down upon anyone who happened to be walking below, and the rock walls seemed to gleam with the same orange hue as the crystal on his mum’s wand. In the near distance, he could also hear what sounded like water rushing from below.
After following the path for several minutes, Mortain broke the silence.
“Blimey, is that water I hear?” he asked, attempting to distract himself from the dread that was growing deep within him.
“Sorry?” his father said, trying to recall the location of the sound. “Ah, yes, there’s a waterfall not too far away from here. Be careful not to stand too close to the edge of the pathway, my son. You wouldn’t wish to fall. If I recall correctly, there’s a hot spring somewhere underneath.”
Mortain looked down and could see that the pathway seemed to be separated from the walls in some spots with steam rising from below through the openings.
“It would be a rather unfortunate way to die,” Mortain said.
DRACONIERA MOUNTAIN—
THE KINGDOM OF ARACELLY
1220 CE
“WHAT IS this place?” Mortain asked as the doors to the anteroom opened. Inside was a circular room with the same rock structure as the rest of the mountain. Two torches were positioned adjacent to the doors, leading toward the stage for the Rite of Wands ceremony. The air felt extra stuffy with half of the room already filled with young witches and warlocks and their parents seated on the many stone benches, anxiously awaiting their turn. They must have come on an earlier ferry.
Mortain looked at the faces of the others waiting to be summoned. He locked eyes with a young warlock. His face was pale, eyes wide with fright, and Mortain was certain he could see beads of sweat on his forehead. The young warlock glanced at his father who was seated next to him. His father gave a reassuring nod, but it did not seem to help him relax.
Blimey! Mortain thought to himself, I hope I don’t look that scared.
“This,” Gearoid said, gazing around the room for a less crowded area, “is where you’ll wait until it’s your time to participate.”
“Oh,” Mortain answered, letting out a small breath to help calm his nerves.
“Come along, Mortain, keep up.” Winifred gestured, proceeding toward an empty space in the opposite corner.
Mortain was drawn to a group of witches gathered together. As he passed them, he noticed one of the witches abruptly gasp.
Cecilia, who Mortain had known since childhood, looked over at her friend Esmeralda, her expression showing excited apprehension.
“What happened? Did you hear him?” he overheard her friend ask eagerly.
The witch nodded, a smile forming with her lips. “Yes, I heard him say my name,” Cecilia said.
“Yay!” Esmeralda cheered, clapping her hands together between moments of jumping up and down.
Cecilia turned to her parents. “Did you hear that? He called my name!”
“What is she going on about?” Mortain asked his mother.
“Never mind, Mortain,” Winifred scolded. “It is rude to listen to other people’s conversations without first being invited.”
“But I really wish to understand!” Mortain countered. “Who said her name? I heard nothing!”
“It would appear the witch heard the voice of no one other than Lord Kaeto himself,” Gearoid answered, watching the witch’s friend playfully shove her toward the entrance.
A loud creaking echoed across the room, and the ground shook underneath their feet. Two tall wooden doors opened up to a pathway of complete darkness.
“I can hear him,” Cecilia said, turning to Gearoid who was standing near the doorway. “He’s telling me to step inside.”
“Go on then,” Gearoid said. “It is best not to keep him waiting. Simply remember to be confident and show him your abilities.”
Cecilia gazed from Gearoid over to Winifred and Mortain, nodding. “Thank you, sir,” she said. She took in a deep breath and walked into the darkness.
As they all watched until the doors closed behind her, Mortain wondered when it would be his turn.
MORTAIN AND his parents had been seated on one of the benches for quite some time and Mortain was becoming fidgety.
“What is taking so long? We have been here too long!” Mortain whined. He felt that he had been waiting for an eternity. The anteroom, which had originally been filled close to capacity, was now nearly empty.
“Patience, patience, my boy,” Gearoid insisted, though he was struggling with his own urge to get the rite underway.
“But I have been waiting for hours!” Mortain complained, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the sleeve of his robe. “Maybe Lord Kaeto doesn’t want me to become a warlock. Maybe he thinks I’m not good enough!”
“Now, now, Mortain,” Gearoid scolded. “There shall be none of that. You are my son. Therefore, that makes you more than worthy of becoming a warlock.”
“But, what if it’s true, Father?” Mortain continued anxiously. “What if I’m unable to perform magic? What if we came all this way only to be tricked? You and Mum always said that what I do reflects on you. What if I’m destined to become a…a…a Magulia?”
“MORTAIN MCKINNON!”
Mortain gasped, standing abruptly. His body trembled as he looked around the room, trying to determine the source of the voice. He felt his cheeks blush as he contemplated whether he was going mad. “Who?” he said between gasps. “Who said that? Was that…?”
Even though he had seen the others’ reactions and knew how they were summoned, Mortain was surprised by the force of the voice in his head. He felt as though his name thundered and rumbled through the air of the anteroom.
“What did you hear, my son?” Gearoid questioned, trying his best to hide his excitement.
“Argh!”
The sound of thunder smashed against the ceiling and the floor shook underneath him with tremendous force, knocking him off his feet.
“Blimey!” Mortain exclaimed. “What?” Slowly, he calmed his breathing. Crinkling his brow, he determined there was only one way he would have been able to hear his name called within his mind.
Exactly then the loud creaking once again echoed across the room. He watched intently as the two tall wooden doors opened up to a pathway of complete darkness. Then, all became silent.
“Lord Kaeto?” Mortain uttered.
“Step inside,” he heard the dragon say in his mind.
Mortain swallowed hard. “All right,” he whispered, walking toward the doors. He turned back to look at his parents, smiling slightly.
“Make us proud, Son,” Gearoid said, now standing beside his wife.
“I will. I promise,” Mortain said, though he was feeling uncertain of his ability.
