The Blessing of Equinox

by Kathryn Reynolds

  “We tried to raise a protection spell,” the girl was saying between sniffles, “but… I don’t know if we weren't fast enough, or just not strong enough. The dark magic just… just tore through our protections.”

  “Shh, shh, now dear,” Rohesia said, gently rubbing her arm. “Did you get a glimpse of the creature who did this?”

  “Only a shadow, shaped like a woman,” the girl said, then took a sip of her tea, calming with its warmth. “I managed to shoot her with my crossbow, but she fled and I couldn’t leave Pa and the others there to wither.”

  Nodding, the elderly witch looked over at the five fae on the ground. “Rosemary and lavender?” she asked. When the girl nodded, she continued. “You did well, Marsilia. Go get some rest and I will see to them. You’ve done enough for now.”

  Setting down the mug, the girl paused, looking at the barely-breathing bodies with such sorrow. “Just before the attack… Pa said whatever did this stole the magic from the little fairy they brought us. How do I get it back? How can I save my pa?”

  “We can discuss a plan once you’re rested. For now, I’ll ensure they’re stabilized and out of danger,” Rohesia said gently, turning the girl back towards a bedroom. “Go sleep. You’re exhausted.”

  Reluctantly, the girl nodded and headed back to the room she’d been directed to. Fjell frowned watching the scene unfolded, holding his tongue.

  “Another hedge witch?” he asked when Rohesia turned back to him.

  “Not exactly,” she answered, shaking her head as she looked over the five downed fae. “Do you know who this is?” she asked, nodding to the pooka. When he shook his head, she continued. “This is Eudon.”

  Fjell took in a sharp breath, looking back down at the pooka. “Wait, the Eudon?”

  The creature was legendary. He had once roamed the Fields of Reversal, healing Seelie and Unseelie alike in the seasons of war. In between those seasons, he had graced the courts of the Mantles as an honored guest. All until he began to grow old and retired nearly twenty years ago. And when he retired, he vanished from all Courts, from the Fae Realm, from the world. It was rumored he was dead.

  A pit formed in his stomach with another realization. Eudon the pooka was one of the most powerful sorcerers the Fae Realm had known in recent history. If he was taken down by whatever dark creature the girl had spoken of...

  “That girl is Marsilia,” Rohesia continued, crouching down to begin checking over Eudon. “She is his adopted daughter and apprentice.”

  The dwarf stroked his beard, staring down at the pooka for a moment more before turning his gaze to the closed door that hid the girl from them. This entire matter was starting to sound well past anything he should be dealing with.

  “Well,” he said. “Best of luck to ye both. I’ll be heading back to my mountain now.”

  Turning, he made it halfway to the door before the old witch spoke.

  “I call in your favor now.”

  “Fy fanden,” he cursed under his breath, feeling that magical bond from earlier lock him in place. Slowly, reluctantly, he turned back to find Rohesia standing, staring at him. “Look,” he sighed. “Ye can’t expect me to be getting involved with dark magic again. This entire thing is beyond me. I’d just be getting in the way.”

  The old hedge witch continued to stare him down until finally, with a defeated curse under his breath, he removed the axe from his belt. Leaning it against the leg of the table, he took a seat and waited for her to finish her administration of the fallen, magicless fae.

  * * *

  It was past dusk when Marsilia woke, sore from her trip to the hedge witch’s cabin and still tired. Her mind, however, was filled with worries and would not allow her a moment’s more rest. Crawling out of the bed - and suppressing a moment of jealousy for the old witch having such a fine piece of furniture - she straightened her dress and hair, put her hood back on, and returned to the main room of the cabin.

  The smell of food immediately made her stomach rumble with hunger, and she put her hand over her waist, willing it to silence. She had known Rohesia since she was a child, and while the hedge witch had always shown her kindness, Eudon had warned her well against the woman. She did good and was well trained, but she dealt in the fae magic of debts owed.

  Eudon had raised Marsilia differently. They never asked a price for services rendered, but would accept gifts as thanks. It meant that they lived far more simply than the hedge witch, but all the fae of the mortal realm knew they could come to them for healing, no matter what.

  The room was as she always recalled it, filled with finely carved furniture and luxurious rugs. Glass filled the windows, and a large hearth was set against the far wall. Her pa, Shuck and the three fairies were gone, and she could only assume they had been moved back to where Rohesia could tend to them.

  Another, however, remained in the room, sitting and staring into the fire of the hearth. She had barely paid attention to him when she arrived earlier and she now took a moment to study him before he noticed her. The sides of his head were shaven down to stubble, leaving a long line of thick red hair atop his head. Likewise his beard was red and, though thick, well tapered to neatly hang down just past his collar bone. Broad shoulders and thick arms spoke of great strength, and she remembered just how incredibly tall he was.

  His clothing was strange, though. Loose, striped pants were tucked into supple leather boots and his long tunic was embellished upon the hems with woven trim of strange knotwork patterns. Several necklaces of beads hung around his neck, and an axe engraved with patterns similar to the strange designs on his trim rested against the table beside him.

  Marsilia cleared her throat lightly and he turned his head, looking back at her for a moment. His eyes gleamed in the dark room, glowing gold as the light caught them and she felt her breath catch in her throat. For all he looked human at first glance, he was most certainly something else.

  Turning back to the fire, he simply pointed to another room without a word and continued to brood on whatever dark thoughts he was having.

  She paused for but a moment, taking a steadying breath. She hoped whatever was troubling him was his own matter and nothing to do with her pa. Casting one last glance to the strange, silent man, she followed his gesture to the back room.

  Rohesia was bent over the bed with her pa laid out, chanting quietly as she wafted smoking herbs over him. Marsilia slipped into the room, remaining silent as the ritual was completed. It was the same that she had performed on each of the dark entity’s victims before transporting them across the forest, and she frowned, watching. The elder witch did everything exactly as she had, so why did it need to be performed again, and so soon?

  Rising up, Rohesia turned to her with a concerned smile. “Ah, you’re awake.” She looked back to Eudon and sighed softly. “Without his magic, without all of their magic… the spells are not holding.”

  Marsilia’s heart clenched in her chest and she stepped up beside her pa, taking his hand in her own. “What can I do?” she asked, looking back up at the elder witch. “How can we restore their magic? Do you know a spell, or some herbs, or...” She trailed off as Rohesia shook her head slowly.

  “Let’s go out to the living area and talk, child,” she said gently and turned, leading the way.

  Marsilia hesitated for a moment, looking down on her pa with tears threatening to spill once more. The hedge witch had closed his eyes, and he looked for all the world to just be sleeping, not slowly fading away. Reaching out, she brushed some hair back from his forehead before finally turning to follow Rohesia.

  The redhead still sat in his chair brooding, not giving any mind to the two witches as they entered, and Marsilia likewise ignored him - there were far more important matters at present than a grumpy woodsman with strange eyes. Rohesia guided her over to a table where a number of books laid open.

  “I had a theory,” the old woman said, “and dug in to some old tomes. Look here, is this akin to what you saw last night?”
>
  Following where her finger pointed, Marsilia frowned. A shadow like creature was illustrated upon the page, female in figure but otherwise featureless. “Yes,” she answered, scanning over the writing, even as the old witch continued.

  “A dark witch, most likely, then,” Rohesia said. “Feeding off innocent fae to gain strength. There has not been a record of one in generations, and the last was struck down by the Wild Hunt before she could gain much power.”

  Marsilia nodded, frowning, her gaze still roaming over the text even as she listened. To begin down the path, one first had to consume a child of the womb. The blasphemy of eating one’s own child would allow them to access the powers needed to perform the first spell of the transformation. Swallowing back bile, Marsilia tore her gaze from the page, all thoughts of hunger twisting away in disgust.

  Rohesia watched her, nodding. “It’s a vile business, and one not stumbled upon by accident. We have a fiend in the woods, and your pa, your pup and those three little fairies will not be the last victims. They’re probably not even the first. Eudon should have been able to take such a dark witch down on his own with no problem. And with your added help?”

  Feeling herself pale, Marsilia raised her gaze to the elder witch. “What if I did something wrong in the incantation? If I said something wrong or threw off the—”

  “Stop, child,” she said, stepping over to take the younger witch by the shoulders. “It isn’t your fault. I suspect this vile being has been feeding for a while, else your father would have been able to stop it with or without you. Do you understand?”

  “I…” Marsilia trailed off with a sigh. Her guilt was likely unfounded, but a symptom of grief, and it would not change what had happened. “I understand,” she finally said. “But if pa couldn’t defeat her, what are we to do?”

  “Get something even more powerful, of course,” Rohesia said with a faint, knowing smile before turning to another book. “Look here,” she said, pointing to the open page.

  No illustration embellished this page, but instead a tight hand scribbled notes on worn, yellowed pages. It was an old book, but still legible, and it spoke in a direct, precise tone of things she did not understand. It seemed that to defeat a powerful dark witch, one needed a blade blessed by...

  “What are the Mantles?” she asked, looking up.

  Rohesia raised an eyebrow at her. “Did Eudon never instruct you in the matters of the Fae Courts?” she asked.

  “Well, he mentioned the two queens and their courts,” Marsilia said. “And to never go near them.”

  “Sound advice,” the elder answered, nodding. “And fret not, you needn’t delve into the Seelie or Unseelie courts for this. The Mantles are the Ladies of Spring and Autumn. As the two queens reign over Winter and Summer, so the Ladies reign over their own seasons and remain neutral to the wars between the other two.”

  Marsilia returned her gaze to the page, considering. “How do we call upon them?”

  “In person,” Rohesia answered simply.

  The young witch paused, her mind rolling that phrase over slowly. “Wait,” she said, looking up once again. “Do you mean, in person, in the Fae Realm?”

  “Precisely,” the elder said, turning away from the table and making her way to a closed cabinet. “Of course, you cannot bring cold iron into that realm, but I have an elven blade you can use for this purpose.”

  “Wait, wait, wait,” Marsilia said, stepping around the table to follow her. “Are you mad? I am a mortal, same as you. How am I expected to gain entry to the Fae Realm? I don’t even know where to begin, and any mortal who has managed to find their way there uninvited does not return.”

  “Ye’ll have a guide,” the redhead said from beside the hearth. “And yer quest serves as yer invitation.”

  Frowning, the young witch turned to look at him. He still lounged sullenly in his chair, not looking at them. “Who?” she finally asked.

  Sighing, the man stood, towering well over six and a half feet tall. His eyes glowed with a faint golden light as he turned to face them. “Fjell of the Deep Mountain.”

  Rohesia stepped up beside her and patted her shoulder. “Fjell is a dwarf,” she explained. “His kind travel between the two realms quite frequently, as they are of both.”

  Wrinkling up her nose in confusion, Marsilia took in the full height of him. “I thought dwarves were supposed to be short.”

  Fjell rolled his eyes. “Aye and ye are to have a giant nose, hairy chin and warts. The average man makes great dwarves small and beautiful witches ugly to feel better about himself.”

  She frowned and nodded in consideration of the point. Human tales did often cast those of magic in a poor light. Rohesia drew her attention back with a cleared throat and handed her a sword. Taking it, Marsilia looked it over. It was lighter than she expected it to be, and the metal gleamed with a nearly blue sheen to the silver. Flowing designs carved down the fuller and were mimicked in the near-white silver inlay of the grip and guard. The pommel was a great opal caged in the same bluish silver as the blade.

  Marsilia felt her stomach drop. This was by far the finest, most expensive item she had seen in her entire life. Reluctantly, she looked up at Rohesia. “What will this cost me?”

  The elder witch gave her a sly smile before chuckling. “Normally, it’d cost you more than you could ever give,” she said matter-of-factly, then gentled. “But this isn’t a normal situation. Both our lifestyles are in danger, child, along with all the fae in these woods. I ask no price and give this and my aid freely. You’re doing me a service by going on this quest. So long as you are on this path, all I have that will aid you is yours.”

  Letting out a deep breath of relief, Marsilia nodded and looked over to Fjell. “So. When do we leave?”

  Chapter 4

  “Woah, woah,” Fjell said, raising his hands. “Morning, eh? Ye’d be mad to go out there at night with that dark witch lurking about.”

  “She attacked the first fairy in broad daylight,” Marsilia countered. “I hardly think she cares what time of day or night it is.”

  Sighing, Fjell pinched the bridge of his nose. How did he get himself into these messes? “Aye, fine, but I’ve not slept all day. Ye want me falling asleep halfway to the mountain?”

  The young witch fretted with a lock of her hair, twisting it as she thought. Finally, she turned back to Rohesia. “How long can you keep them from… keep them alive?”

  “I don’t know, child,” the elder witch answered honestly and directly, and Fjell wondered how much of a rarity that was. “A week? Perhaps more.”

  Nodding, she looked back to him. “And how long will it take to get to this mountain? To the two Mantles? To get back?”

  “A day to the mountain,” he said, and as much as he didn’t want to get wrapped up in this mess, he couldn’t help but feel for the young witch's desperation as he continued. “Another couple days to the Elves’ part of the Fae Realm and Spring’s keep. Another day after that to Autumn’s keep.”

  Marsilia stared at him in anguish and he could all but see her brain churning through the timeline. “That’s four days,” she said quietly. “And then equal that back. It will take too long.”

  “There is another possibility,” Rohesia offered hesitantly and they both turned their gazes to her. “Take the three summer fairies with you. Bring them to Queen Titania and explain what has happened. Ask her to send you back to the mortal realm; her knights can bring you back immediately and directly.”

  “No,” Fjell said with such conviction that both turned to look at him in surprise. “We had a deal for the healing, witch, but ye ask too much with that. Bad enough I have to face the new Autumn, but one of the Queens? No.”

  That young witch turned such sorrowful, tear-filled eyes upon him as to rake his damned heart. “Please,” she beseeched. “Please, we can’t let Pa die. He’s all I have.”

  For a moment, he had to take stock, feel through himself to make sure she hadn’t cast some spell becaus
e those pleas, those big blue teary eyes, made him question just how strong his resolve was not to stand before an elven queen. He silently cursed himself to find no evidence of magic and rubbed his chin, pulling at his beard.

  “There may be another way,” he answered hesitantly. “When we get through the mountain, we can ask King Nibelung for mounts. That’d cut our time in the fae realm by half.” As her face began to light up with hope he held up a hand. “But, ye’ll have to pay a tithe. None stand before the King of Dwarves empty handed.”

  He watched as the young witch became quietly distraught, looking over herself. “I have a mirror,” she finally said, looking back up at him. “It’s warped, and it’s back at our cottage… It’s all I have of value. Would that be enough?”

  Fjell looked her over for a long moment before looking back to Rohesia. The elder witch looked upon her with such utter pity that he realized she must be speaking the truth. He turned his gaze back to her. “Ye have the power to heal but ye do not fill your home with riches?”

  “Of course not,” the girl answered, looking offended, then flushed and gave an apologetic smile to her elder. The old witch waved it off and she continued. “Pa and I don’t charge to help others. They give us what they can, when they can - usually bread or fish or vegetables. Sometimes help around our cottage, repairing things, cleaning and the like. But we don’t charge. Pa taught me that the service is enough on its own.”

  Fanden, he thought, mentally cursing for the second time that day. Pushing the surprise aside, he turned a baleful eye to the elder witch. “Ye said whatever we needed, witch. Will ye honor that?”

  The old witch pursed her lips in irritation before finally nodding ascent and he pointed to the gem-encrusted pendant around her neck. With a gasp, she clutched it to herself and stared at him as if he’d just insulted her lineage.