by Alicia Fabel
Vera met the insult with a blank stare until the young witch, who was only a year or two older than Vera, turned away uncomfortably. Kale’s mood improved considerably watching that play out. Plus, Vera walked closer to him afterward, in a clear show of solidarity against the unpleasant witches. The girl was still pissed at him for “withholding” certain facts about Summartir but progress was progress.
“It’s the Guardian,” a child called out.
They’d entered the herb district, located on the outskirts of Summartir Proper. An extensive network of cottages with large gardens spread out before them. Most of the gardens looked half-wild, but each plant was carefully tended and harvested for a variety of uses by the coven. The little girl’s mother gathered her up and rushed her inside. More doors slammed throughout the neighborhood. At first, Vera frowned in confusion at the men and witches dropping their garden tools and scurrying into their homes. After a few minutes, Vera seemed to follow the eyes of all those people right to him. Dawning, that Kale was the bogeyman they all ran from, lit her eyes. She peeked at him and winced. Usually, Kale couldn’t be bothered by how people reacted to him, but Vera’s pity irritated him.
“How do you feel about lizards?” Kale asked to distract her.
“Huh?” Vera’s eyes narrowed. “I feel like they are snakes on legs. Why?”
“Oh, no reason. Just curious.”
“Kalesius.” It was the first time she’d said his full given name and she’d growled it. “If you tell me there are lizards here the size of horses, I swear I will march back to that gate and throw myself through it.”
“You would die.”
“A risk I’m willing to take.”
“It’s not a risk. It’s a certainty,” Kale told her.
“I’d be okay with that,” she said.
“You would really—”
“Oh my gosh, Kale.” Vera came to an abrupt halt, hands fisted. “There really are horse-sized lizards, aren’t there?”
“No. There aren’t. I promise… They are house-sized lizards, not horse-sized. And they have wings—we call them dragons.” Kale waited until Vera’s eyes were the size of dinner plates.“I’m kidding. Dragons live in a different realm.” Kale smirked. “You don’t have to worry about them while we’re here.”
“Not funny.”
“It was a little funny.” Kale offered a rare genuine smile.
“No, it wasn’t.” Vera pretended to be angry, but the corner of her lips twitched. “Whatever.”
They caught up to their escort with the mood between them notably lighter. The conversation hadn’t gone the direction Kale had intended, but at least the pity in the girl’s eyes was gone.
“I’m never going to that other realm, by the way,” Vera informed him.
“Probably a good idea. Dragons like to take pretty girls hostage and keep them locked away in their caves.”
“Oh, they’re relatives of yours then?” Vera asked.
“Ha. Ha,” Kale said dryly. “Look, you can see the palace now.”
They’d taken the final bend in the road, and the palace peeked from behind an outcropping of trees. Only a short walk through the temporary market— set up for the coming festivities— separated them from the courtyard. The palace was relatively isolated, exactly how witches preferred their homes. In a week, the stalls would be teeming with witches selling their wares. Hopefully, the Weaver would have the curse stripped from the world-gate, and they’d be gone from Summartir before then.
“It’s incredible,” Vera said. “Like a castle and a log cabin had a baby.”
“And it’s alive,” said Kale ominously.
“I assume that does not mean what it sounds like.”
“The trees, they are alive. They were woven together by magic, without being cut down.”
“Incredible,” she repeated with greater awe. “I have no idea how I’m going to describe all this when I get home.”
Kale frowned. “You can’t.”
“I know, right? No description would do all this any justice.”
“No, I mean you cannot tell anyone about this place. Or the meadow. Or any of it. If humans knew what was out here beyond their world, they’d tear down the walls to catch a glimpse.”
“Maybe there shouldn’t be walls,” Vera said with feeling.
Her intensity worried him. Those deep-blue eyes flashed with the magic she’d been siphoning recently. He hoped no one else noticed. The charm around Vera’s neck must have awoken, though, because the magic faded. Kale breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn’t sure how he’d hide the girl in Summartir for an entire week if someone discovered her origins. Not even the witches’ fear of the Guardian would be enough to protect Vera if mob mentality kicked in.
“Do you know how many humans spend their entire lives looking for magic? Knowing that something’s missing from their lives?” Vera continued. “But they never find it. They don’t know it’s been locked away from them because they were born with the wrong genetics, according to the rest of the world.”
“You don’t understand,” Kale replied. “If there were ever any hint that humans might rise up to reclaim magic, even just a taste of it, Earth would be wiped out before anyone knew what was coming. That’s why you cannot ever tell anyone.”
“That’s so messed up.”
“I agree,” Kale said earnestly.
“It’s stupid.” Vera’s face was turning red.
“It is,” he agreed, hoping to diffuse her.
“I hope you aren’t talking about me,” said the Maiden, walking out to meet them as they entered the courtyard.
“Maiden,” Kale dipped his head in a respectful acknowledgment of her presence. “We were just discussing world politics.”
“Oh, then I’m sure I would agree. It is stupid.” The Maiden placed a bare hand—she was the only one to leave her hands bare in his presence—to the center of her chest in greeting to Vera. “Happy meet and welcome to Summartir. My witches say you are the Guardian’s charge.”
“Maiden, this is Vera,” introduced Kale. “Vera, this is the Maiden of Summartir.”
“You can call me Maiden,” the young witch said. “Very creative, no?”
The four escorts urged their mounts on toward the barns without a backward glance. The remaining elite witches, who’d already arrived for the festival, gathered on the palace steps behind their leader.
“We require a private audience.” Kale pitched his voice low, but the women lining the steps heard anyway. They stirred unhappily, despite the vacant expressions they maintained for his benefit.
“I had suspected as much. Come, let’s get inside,” Maiden said.
The Maiden looped Vera’s arm through her own as if they were longtime friends. Vera looked at Kale, unsure of what to do. He gave the slightest nod to let her know it was okay. Maiden didn’t acknowledge their audience as she lead Vera past them and through the carved stone doors. A bright blue newt darted from the Maiden’s platinum hair and down to their linked arms to investigate the new arrival. To her credit, Vera didn’t flinch or whimper or fling the familiar away. Tendons in her neck stood out sharply, though. The maiden whistled a soft trill of notes. The tiny lizard flicked his tongue once more before retreating to his hiding spot in Maiden’s hair.
“Sorry, that one likes to greet people,” Maiden explained to Vera. “He’s always popping out to say hello.”
“No worries.”
The blasted girl smiled calmly at the Maiden as if she hadn’t been upset one bit. She was good at wearing those pleasant masks when she wanted to. As soon as she could get away with it, though, Vera threw Kale the evil eye over her shoulder.
“I tried to tell you about him, but you distracted me with dragons,” Kale informed her.
Maiden looked like a golden-haired prom queen. It boggled Vera’s mind that someone so young could be the leader of an entire realm, a realm of witches no less. Maiden could probably obliterate Vera with a few words and some wiggled fi
ngers. Better not forget that. Then again, Kale hasn’t gone protector-mode yet, so Maiden must be harmless enough. Or the witch is so powerful that Kale doesn’t dare challenge her. Oh happy thought. Vera checked to be sure Kale was still behind them. The man was freaky-quiet thanks to the thick rugs underfoot. That’s when Vera noticed the symbol woven into the carpets, just like the one carved into all the doors. It was the same sun that was on the cover of the wooden box Marianna had given her.
“What does that sun symbol mean?” Vera asked, pointing at the image.
“It’s a reminder of who we are and the consequences should we forget,” Maiden answered.
“Oh.” Vera fell quiet, wondering how to politely ask for more information.
“Kalesius said you were speaking of dragons. You have dragons in your realm, Vera?” Maiden turned the conversation before Vera got her own questions out.
“No, thank the Lady,” Vera answered.
“I’d love to meet a dragon someday,” said Maiden.
“Really? Not me. The stories I’ve heard? Not good.”
“My grandmother was engaged to be married to a dragon before the Unraveling,” Maiden revealed.
Maiden turned them down a third hallway, or maybe it was the fourth. Smooth tree trunks, like giant wooden serpents stacked on top of each other, curved and draped over pairs of arched stone doors and floor length windows. The windows were open to let in fresh air that smelled of the forest around them. Thick white candles lined the hallways, none of them lit. It seemed like a terrible fire hazard. There were no pictures or curtains, nothing to tell one hallway from another. If Vera needed to escape later, she’d be royally screwed.
“Grandmother’s family didn’t approve, of course,” continued Maiden. “Grandmother eventually broke it off with the dragon and married a man from the Luca family, my grandfather. They were very happy together for all of their lives, and yet Grandmother never stopped loving her dragon. She tells me stories about him and his kind.”
“Maybe she can tell me some nice dragon stories,” Vera said.
“I’m sure she would, but she’s been dead for a thousand years,” Maiden replied.
“I’m so sorry.” Vera’s brows pinched in confusion.
“Goodness me, I forget not all the realms remember our history. You must be completely baffled by us.” Maiden paused for a second to consider their route, and then tugged Vera up a winding staircase. “Summartir is home to tens of thousands of witches and their families. However, unlike what some may think, witch magic is not limitless. What magic there is must be harvested like precious stones. Also like stones, it can also be gifted to other witches.”
“How do you harvest magic?” asked Vera.
“We absorb the energy of nature while tending the land. Although, Summartir’s harvests have depleted over the years. There’s very little new magic anymore. What we have is essentially the last of it. We are careful not to use magic when there is another way.”
At the top of the stairs was a hallway filled with portraits of every shape and size. The pictures were not hung with any sense of organization. There were so many of them that very little of the stone wall, unlike all the other wooden walls in the place, was visible. Paintings of women even packed the ceiling space. Some were portraits of women smiling or scowling back, while others were candid images of women gardening, dancing, or cradling small children. Maiden pointed at a large rectangular portrait with an aged gold frame near the center of one wall. It was of a group of women huddled together.
“Summartir’s founding circle of witches. Our governing families are each descended from one of these fourteen women.”
“Respectfully, is there time for this, Maiden?” asked Kale.
“Are you worried the world will tear itself apart while I share a little about my people with your charge?” Maiden asked.
“No. Not so soon as that,” Kale said delicately.
“That’s reassuring. And I will not be wanted for anything for a few minutes at least. However, we should walk and talk just in case.”
Kale dipped his head in acceptance.
To Vera, Maiden said, “The palace is fairly small, but the corridors do not take the most direct paths to anywhere.”
“I’ve noticed,” Vera said ruefully.
“The row of portraits over here are of our current triads, the head witches from each of the fourteen families. Triads are made up of the three most powerful women of their family, and they govern their family’s region.” Each portrait showed three women of various ages, and each triad wore a unique color scheme. “A maiden still in her youth, a witch in the prime of her life, and a crone in her wisest years. When all of these witches come together, as they will tomorrow for the start of the Transition Festival, they form the Maiden Circle, the Witch Circle, and the Crone Circle. Linked together, we are the most powerful magical force in all the world.”
The matching frames all had a small placard with a name. Vera recognized the name Sanford from the cart of corn they’d seen on the road earlier. The Sanford triad wore shades of grass-green, just like the tarp stretched over the corn. So the triads were wearing their family colors. The Luca family, Maiden’s family, wore pale blues and gold.
“Wow,” said Vera.
“Indeed. Finally, these,” said Maiden, pausing to let Vera take in the three life-size portraits in spun silver frames. They were all three of Maiden in various outfits. “Only one is me.” Maiden indicated the one of her in Luca-blue with an electric-blue lizard clinging to her throat. “The next is the High Mother and the third is the High Crone. Together, we are the head of the Summartir Coven.”
The three women in the portraits looked identical. However, the High Mother wore shades of black with crystals sewn onto the fabric, a fox curled around the hem of her gown. The High Crone wore a color that Vera could not describe. She was sure she’d never seen anything like it. It was yellow and blue but neither color at the same time. It was not green either. On the Crone’s shoulder perched a large black crow.
“You’re triplets?” asked Vera
“Not at all. We simply share this same body. Oh, but not at once,” Maiden added quickly when Vera looked startled. “I am alone in here. Only one of our spirits possesses this form at a time, and it is my season to do so. For one more week anyway. At the end of this week’s festival, Mother will transition here, and I will transition out and take my rest on Kyopili Mountain. That is where the spirits of the Mother and Crone are now. When we aren’t here, we attend to the spirits of murdered witches who haunt Kyopili until their deaths are avenged. My grandmother is one of those spirits. That’s how she’s able to tell me stories about her dragons.”
“Are there a lot of spirits there?” asked Vera as they left the hall of portraits behind.
“In the past, no. Summartir witches are a rather vengeful lot,” Maiden said with a fond smile which unnerved Vera a bit. “After the Unraveling, the numbers grew, though. Most of the witches killed at that time are still there and always will be. Their deaths cannot be avenged because there is no one to hold accountable anymore.”
“That must be awful,” Vera said.
“For some. My grandmother has forgiven those who caused her death. She is at peace with her existence, so I cannot be angry. The High Mother’s mother remains bitter, though. She wanted Mother to avenge her death. However, after the Unraveling, the chance for vengeance was gone. Time is more painful for them.”
“That’s—” Vera had no words.
“Too much?” asked Maiden
“Maybe a little, but I… I think Summartir is pretty amazing too.” Vera had almost said, like an idiot, “…but I only learned about magic a few days ago.” That would have been spectacularly bad.
“Maybe if your guardian will permit it while you are here, you can come visit me and share a little about your realm. I’m sure it is equally amazing.”
“Umm, yeah. That would be great.” Vera’s skull felt like it would crack from
the lie.
Kale sidled closer when Vera faltered.
“Is everything all right, Vera?” asked Maiden, cocking her head to the side slightly.
“It’s just my head. I’ll be okay.”
“Well, we are here—my rooms. We can be assured privacy to speak. There should be tea. Perhaps some refreshment will help your head.”
Maiden threw open a set of stone doors. There was nothing Vera could see to set them apart from the dozens they’d passed on their way. For a second, Vera thought Maiden had picked the wrong ones because these led outside to a woodland garden. Except they didn’t. On the other side of the doors was an immense room, more like a loft really, where nature had seeped inside. Stone floors gave way to a carpet of moss and ferns. Flower-studded vines grew along the walls, and a waterfall murmured in one corner. The waterfall fed a small pool sunken into the floor. Lilly pads with flowers that glowed pink and green dotted the surface. Clusters of white candles burned all over the room, giving the space a warm glow. A young girl was setting a silver tea set out in the sitting area just inside the doors.
“Maiden,” the girl bobbed a curtsy.
“Thank you, Margory,” said Maiden with a nod.
The girl slipped out the room, taking a wide circle around Kale. Maiden knelt beside the pool, trailing a finger over the surface. Her lips moved, but Vera could not hear what she said over the sound of the water on stone and wood. Whatever the witch said, called forth an entire troop of little lizards from her hair and clothes. Vera schooled her expression, but inside, she felt a little ill. The creatures were all brightly colored, like the poisonous frogs at a zoo. A blue one, probably the same one from earlier, draped itself over Maiden’s ear and flicked its tongue out to lick the witch’s temple. Maiden rubbed its tiny head then turned her attention back to her guests.
“All right, Guardian. Why have you come to Summartir and brought an outsider with you?” asked Maiden.
Whoa. Mild-mannered Maiden had just shifted seamlessly into her head-witch persona. No one would doubt this woman’s ability to rule. Or to lay down a ruthless magical beating.
