Origins s-11 Page 15

  My fingertips singed as I picked it up, but the pain seemed cool against the fire that raged inside me. Pressing the pentagram to my belly, I charged each point of the star.

  “I summon the powers of earth,” I whispered hoarsely, “wind, water, fire, and spirit.” Pain brought tears to my eyes, but it seemed minor in comparison to the pain that filled me. The pain of losing my baby, of losing my life and love.

  My pain must not go unpunished!

  Kneeling before the fire, I imagined the wave of evil surrounding Siobhan, sucking her in, slamming her, crashing over her helpless body and swallowing the other cruel Vykrothes in its wake.

  “I cast this spell for my baby,” I said. “For myself, and for every other Wodebayne who has ever been wronged. Goddess, sweep over the treacherous ones and let their own evil be compounded!” I felt a surge of power, a wave that drew me up, thrumming around me, buoying my body above the chaotic forces at work. I was rising up, hovering above my cell, above my own village and Ma’s cottage, above the Highlands. Beneath me were the soft greens of summer fields, the crisp dark crown of woodlands, the silver blue of lochs with the cool mist of evening rising up from them.

  Wondering what held me suspended, I looked down and saw a wave of pure darkness. I was riding a crescent of black, a coursing molten liquid wrought of the blood of dead Wodebaynes, of my father and his father, of Fionnula and other tormented clan members. ’Twas my blood and my child’s blood, raging and thrashing over the Highlands—a river of evil crashing into the village of Lillipool.

  Then, all at once, I was released.

  I collapsed to the ground, weak and spent. I slipped into a dream state, feeling fires raging around me. Was my cell burning? Had I remembered to douse the burning broom?

  I wasn’t sure, but I could not summon the strength to lift myself from the floor. If I were destined to die now, perhaps it was better at my own hand than at the hands of the villagers. What was to come at the end of this life? I remembered Ma speaking of death being rebirth. the Wheel turns and we move on to a new life. Would I find my baby in that new world? I hugged my belly, feeling the child kick. “I will be there for you,” I whispered tearfully. “I will be there.”

  I am riding upon his shoulders at the seashore. Then suddenly we are here in the town square, dancing with torches like witches around the Beltane fires. Then I am on a seaside cliff, holding a soft bundle in my arms. When I open the flap, I peer into the face of my own baby. A girl, of course. She smells of honeysuckle and clover. But we cannot stay here. The ocean is rising from a storm. And suddenly the wave is cresting, taller and taller, over our heads. I must run to save her.

  I lifted my head and reached forward, trying to grasp my baby. My fingers brushed the ashes of my ceremonial fire, and I remembered that I was in my cell, sleeping in my circle under a smoky gray sky.

  I arose and slipped on my gown, struggling to fasten the girdle over my bulging belly. Throughout the night the shouts of villagers and the noise of people scrambling about had penetrated the numbness that gripped me. Now that daylight was flooding in through the ceiling, the smell of fire was thick in the air. How could the smoke from my spell linger so?

  The door opened, and a bowl of biscuits was tossed in. “Here’s your milk,” the guard said, eyeing me warily as he placed the pitcher inside the door. “And don’t be laying a curse upon my head, for I am just doing my job, and I have three young bairns at home.”

  I blinked. What was he blubbering about? But before I could ask, the door slammed shut, leaving me to my breakfast. I ate every last crumb, surprised at the calm that had overtaken me. I had resigned myself that my baby and I would be reborn together; that was the vision I would cling to in my last hours.

  When the door opened for me to go to the gallows, I stepped into the smoky haze with my chin high and a small measure of courage. If Siobhan and the others were going to condemn me, I would not let them have the satisfaction of seeing that they had indeed broken my spirit.

  I will see you when the Wheel turns, I told the child within me. How I will delight in the sight of your sweet face!

  I followed the guards to the gallows, surprised that they did not try to bind my hands or manhandle me today. They did cast nervous glances, but somehow their eyes no longer held the utter disdain I’d seen the day before.

  Arriving at the village square, I was surprised to see such a small group of witnesses assembled. I wondered at the scarcity of onlookers, especially when I had been such a spectacle the day before. And where was Ma? I couldn’t believe she wouldn’t come to be with me as I took my last breath. Kyra stood by the gallows, swathed in black. But Diarmuid and Siobhan were absent, as was the village reverend, who had been my chief persecutor.

  I looked at the strange faces, wondering what had happened to my enemies. Had the spell worked? Perhaps Siobhan had been stricken down, unable to attend my execution. The thought offered some satisfaction.

  As I walked up to the gallows, Kyra came up to me. “If I may have a moment,” she told the guards, and they stepped back. Kyra put her arms around me for a hug, and I wanted to cry, feeling as if she were the last person on earth who cared for me. I hugged her back, the sting of tears in my eyes.

  “You shouldn’t be doing this,” I told her, my voice cracking with emotion. “They’ll persecute you just for knowing me.”

  “I have lied to them, Rose, and they remember me not,” she whispered in my ear. “As I stand here, the guards think I’m a preacher’s daughter from a village to the north, come to speak the word of the Christian God to a condemned prisoner.”

  I sobbed, afraid to let her go.

  “Don’t look down,” she whispered, “but I’m pressing a charm into your hands for protection. Amber. I charged it myself.” She winced, adding, “I hope it works.”

  “Thank you,” I whispered, pleased that Kyra was working her own magick at last. “You are the only one who’s come to say good-bye.”

  “Many did not survive the night.” She frowned. “It seems there was a terrible fire in Lillipool last night. That is why smoke hangs in the air.”

  “A fire?” I tried to tamp down my curiosity. What had my spell done?

  Kyra nodded. “Nobody was present to see the flames, only the ruin left in its wake. It appears that it swept through the village, then leaped to neighboring cottages in the countryside. I. I’m afraid Diarmuid was lost in it.”

  I blinked, feeling no sense of loss. ’Twas a marvel how drastically my feelings for him had changed, yet Diarmuid was the reason I was here. I rubbed my eyes, wondering if the fire had been the result of my spell. “What of Siobhan?” I asked.

  “She died, as did her whole family and Reverend Winthrop, who was celebrating with them. The Highlands have never seen such an act of destruction; ’tis no doubt the fury of the Goddess.” Kyra narrowed her eyes, studying me curiously. “So you do not know anything of this?”

  “Is that what people think?”

  “Some say you cast a spell in your fury over being condemned to die.” She nodded toward the guards. “That’s why they are so afraid of you today.”

  I turned toward the guards. One of them caught my eye and turned away quickly, as if he could avoid a curse by keeping his back turned. And with Reverend Winthrop gone. who would see to it that my sentence was carried out? These cowering guards?

  The winds of fate had shifted, and I could feel the power of the Goddess swirling around me.

  I was not going to die. I knew that now.

  “So my spell worked,” I said, loud enough for everyone in the square to hear. ’Twas a strange thrill to speak of witch matters before the Christian villagers. Heads snapped toward me in fear, and I smiled. “Yes, the fire was my doing. I used all my powers to punish the evil. They not only persecuted me, they acted on their hatred of my clan every day. They’ve been persecuting Wodebaynes for years!”

  The few people assembled in the square began to disperse in fear. One lady hitched up her
skirts and quickly ran off. Two men meandered toward the church as if they were taking an afternoon stroll.

  I swung toward the guards, wondering if I would need to shoot dealan-dé to scare them off.

  “Don’t curse us!” one of them said, covering his face with his hands. “We mean you no harm!”

  “I thought you were about to hang me?” I asked.

  The heavyset guard shook his head. “We’ll not lay a finger on you, as long as you promise not to practice your sorcery on us.”

  “All right, then...” I cast them a fierce look. “Begone, before I turn you into toads or peahens.”

  They hurried off, not even looking back. I crossed my arms over my belly, aware of the tingling power inside me. My spell had worked. I knew I should feel jubilant—elated! Instead, I felt only a compulsion to leave the scene of my trial.

  “By the Goddess, I cannot believe I am walking away from my own execution,” I said as Kyra and I strode through the town. I was beyond feeling relief as I walked stiffly down the lane.

  “So you really did cast a spell?” she asked wonderingly.

  “Indeed, and by the grace of the Goddess, she fulfilled it.”

  “Many say it wasn’t the Goddess,” she said quietly. “Some say it was dark magick. A huge taibhs.”

  I sighed. “Let their tongues wag. The spell I cast was just a return of all the evil Siobhan had sent my way, threefold.”

  Kyra nodded, but I could tell she wasn’t convinced. Let her be, I thought. She had always been näive. Someday she would understand.

  As I walked home, I was surprised at the respect paid me by passersby. A man with a cart offered me a ride, and two passing ladies actually bowed before me. I knew they had heard of the fires, which had quickly turned me into a local legend, it seemed. I had always known of my powers, but for once it was nice to have others acknowledge my gifts.

  When I reached the cottage, I found Síle sitting at the table, staring off at nothingness.

  “Are you all right, Ma?”

  She looked up at me, startled, as though she were seeing a ghost. Slowly she shook her head, pointing a finger at me. “My fury and disappointment know no bounds. Have you any idea what you have unleashed?”

  “ ’Twas a spell,” I said simply. “A spell against my persecutors—those who would have taken the life of my baby!”

  “No evil action deserves the black magick you conjured. I have never seen anything like it—never! You have caused a split in our coven, some arguing that you created the spell in your own defense. But they are wrong.” My ma tried to sniff back tears. “You have created a horrible evil, Rose. Your spell ushers in the advent of a very dark time. A terrible reign of darkness! I have seen it!” Her voice broke in a sob, and she rested her head in her hands, shaking.

  I folded my arms, unable to comfort her. “You make it sound as if I were a selfish child. I did not create the spell just for myself. I was acting for all Wodebaynes. This is the type of vengeance our clan needs.”

  Ma shook her head. “No, Rose. There is nothing anyone could have done to warrant this horrible violence. You didn’t only hurt Siobhan—you destroyed her entire family! Her entire coven! And all of the villagers of Lillipool—Vykrothes, Leapvaughns, and Christians alike. You burned little children and women expecting bairns, like yourself.”

  “I didn’t. I didn’t mean for that to happen, but—”

  “Oh, dear Goddess!” Síle wailed. “How could my daughter, my own flesh and blood, be capable of such evil?”

  I sat down on my bed in disbelief. She didn’t understand, and I didn’t have the strength to enlighten her. I did not enjoy seeing her in pain like this, though I truly thought she was being overly dramatic.

  “It must be Gowan’s blood,” she muttered. “Your actions make it clear. The evil must have started with him, dabbling in dark magick like a foolish child who knows no better. The man always did want to take the easy road. He must have planted the seed of evil, and now you’ve nurtured it.” She took a deep breath and collapsed into sobs once again.

  “ ’Tis not so,” I said, touching her shoulder. “In time you will understand—”

  “I will not!” Ma winced, pulling away from me. “Time will not heal this wound, Rose, and you may not remain under this roof for even a single night.” She steeled herself, fixing me with a scowl. “You are not my daughter anymore. I do not care where you go, but I never want to see you again.”

  Beneath my overriding numbness, I felt the last vestige of hope crushed within me. My mother was abandoning me. My baby and I would have no one in the world, no safe harbor. Only each another.

  My mouth felt dry as I moved about the cottage, gathering up my meager belongings. How would it feel never to return here? To have no one to watch over me, to console me over night visions? No one to see that I got enough to eat or had a place to sleep? No one to teach me new spells? No one to help me care for the coming child? Fear tightened my chest at the prospect of walking out the door. fear and dread. My mother was the last vestige of my old life, and I longed to cling to her.

  But I had no choice. Ma would not have me. She watched me pack like a hawk waiting to pounce.

  When I had everything in a satchel, I turned to her. “I’ll say good-bye,” I told her, “but surely we will meet again?”

  She turned her head away and staved me off with one hand. “I cannot bear to lay eyes upon you,” she said. “Just begone!”

  Swallowing the lump that had formed in my throat, I stepped out the door and ventured into the woods. I had nowhere to go but my sacred circle, and even that seemed tainted by the hands of Diarmuid. Still, I swept the circle and raised my hands to the Goddess.

  “I have a need that must be met,” I said. “I beg You, Goddess, that I obtain a home, a place to live for me and my babe to come.” I stood there under the hazy sky, wondering where I would go. “Goddess, I know You do not intend for me and my child to starve.”

  I thought of my mother, cursing her weakness. “She has never understood my powers, Goddess.” I had always believed that someday I would inherit Ma’s stature as high priestess of our coven. but now it was not to be. “Perhaps it is envy,” I said aloud.

  But there was no one to answer. Letting my hands drop to my sides, I realized that this circle had truly lost its magic for me. I packed my tools in my satchel, then set fire to my broom. I swept the wide circle with the flaming broom, wiping it all away. The Goddess would no longer visit this part of the woods. The magick was now gone from the stone altar, the green moss, and the tree that had once served as a Beltane maypole.

  Once the circle was broken, I took my satchel and walked down the road. I decided to walk to Lillipool to witness the harvest of my spell. I walked as if in a daze until I reached a section of the woods that was now charred black and nearly empty, as if the trees and cottage there had simply melted into the earth.

  I paused, pinching my nose against the smoking ash. What had stood here? I could not remember. I pressed closer, realizing that the striated rows of ash were charred skeletons. Three skeletons pressed against a door. Had they been unable to escape in time? I pressed my hands to my mouth, horrified at the thought. To imagine a sudden fire, the choking smoke, the need to get out before the flames swept over you.

  Closing my eyes, I swallowed hard, trying to ignore the sting in my throat. ’Twas destruction at the hands of the Goddess, I told myself, and she smites evil. These villagers may have been nothing to me, but surely they were evil?

  I didn’t feel ready to see more, yet I felt compelled to walk on, past yet another and another scene of the fire, now merely a blackened square upon the earth. When I reached the river, I had a vague sense that the mill had once stood here, with cottages all around. But now I stood amid a smoky landscape of embers, an endless horizon of ash and blackened earth.

  “So mote it be,” I said aloud to ward off any doubts I had over the devastation surrounding me.

  Down the lane of ashes
I saw the charred skeletons of three children lined up, as if prepared for burial rites. I thought of the children I’d seen playing in the dusty square when I’d come to Lillipool to see Diarmuid. A pang of regret tightened in my breast, but again I told myself ’twas the Goddess’s will. Were not these children being groomed in the bigoted ways of their clans?

  I moved toward the center of what was once Lillipool. The charred skin of a man’s hand reached out from a fallen window ledge, though there was no body to be seen. Stepping around it, I shuddered and rubbed my belly. “ ’Tis a gruesome sight,” I said aloud. “But surely he was an evildoer.”

  Even the dusty village square had been transformed to thick, dark ash. Ashes of bones and buildings, embers of my enemies’ dreams and hatred.

  So much hatred.

  Yet I could feel neither jubilation over the success of my spell nor sorrow for the lives lost upon this doomed patch of the Highlands. The Goddess had pushed me beyond feeling, beyond tears.

  Walk. Breathe. Rest. My strength was focused on the simplest matters right now, the need to survive and care for my baby. See here the fruits of your spell, the Goddess was telling me. Witness and learn, for the destruction wrought here is the result of your summons.

  Near the river sat a row of buildings that had not completely burned, but only collapsed into ash. Mayhap the people in them had used the water of the river to fend off the fire? I stepped near one sagging doorway and peered inside. The bodies here were not completely charred, and perhaps they were worse for their rotting stench, their distinguishable features. Was that the tinker? And the children.

  I turned away, wanting only to see the corpses of those most deserving.

  I walked into a tangle of smoking embers that I thought to be Diarmuid’s cottage. Kicking at a gray ashen stump, I thought of the hungry look in Diarmuid’s eyes the night before. His denial of our love, his retreat from the Goddess’s plan. Goddess, please grant me that my child will not have those eyes, those lustful, glittery eyes.

  The ash below my shoe crunched apart, lowering me into a burning ember. I stomped out the heat, then noticed two skeletons, their charred limbs entwined.