An Obstinate Witch

by E M Graham

  Margaret glanced at me and flicked her head. We approached his august presence, Margaret with confidence, and me trying my best to pretend.

  ‘What brings me here?’ Margaret laughed, relaxed now and dropping the formal language. ‘You know full well. Tomnahurich is the last stronghold of the Free Fae. Every holy spot, any place with magical links in the British Isles, they are Kin-ridden, claimed for their own and controlled by them under the auspice of the Christian churches. This night’s business is to undo the curses of the Kin on innocents, and they would never allow me on their properties for that purpose. The other holy places, the Standing Stones and the like, they simply don’t have the protection I need from the Kin.’

  She looked at him straight in the eye. ‘Aonghas, cast your eye upon me. You knew me when I was a child, growing up not ten miles distant. My story is well-known, what they have told of me anyway. Cursed by the Kin for what? Touching their precious Charm Stone and drinking of the power therein, as if the Stone had only finite power and could not spare a drop for a thirsty witch, as if I had stolen their very life blood from them.

  ‘That’s what they said,’ she continued bitterly. ‘But we all know my real sin was being a female. We were not considered people then, no right to vote on Council, could not hold property, and forbidden to study on Scarp. And because of my boldness, they sentenced me underground to write all I know, all that the Stone gave me.’

  She added, ‘Which was to enhance their own knowledge, of course. They could not bind my power, not they. Nor would they send one of their own in to wrest the power of the Stone from me. They were fearful then, and are fearful still, jealous of each other like lobsters clawing their escape from a bucket and will not let another soar for fear they will take control over the lot of them. Small minded fools!’

  ‘And where is this Chronicle?’ Aonghas asked. He was not avaricious in tone, merely curious. The Fae had no need for Kin knowledge. ‘I understand you are bound to it.’

  Margaret pointed to the satchel at my feet. ‘Dara carries it, for she was the only one able to overcome the spell of Nachtan,’ she replied. ‘And yes, I am still bound to it, but this is also my choice. I cannot let the knowledge herein be misused or corrupted by those unable to properly wield its power.’

  He nodded, stroking his clean shaven chin. ‘Yes, so you say.’ He then switched his attention to me, a gaze deep and ancient for all he had the appearance of a man in his prime. ‘And the young one?’

  Margaret’s laugh rang out against the last vestiges of sunlight reflected in the few clouds, fiery orange and red in the darkening sky. ‘This innocent, cast down and denied her heritage by the very one who brought her into the world. The Kin have been hoist by their own petard in not developing and encouraging her talents from a young age, instead of snubbing her for an accident of birth. The Council have realized too late that they have another Auld Meg on their hands, and in these modern times have no idea how to handle the situation.’

  She told him a little of my story, the pertinent parts, painting me not as a rogue witch but a fledgling unable to stay in the nest, one who felt the need to fly in her very soul. A thrill ran up my spine when I heard her words, for it was only at that moment I saw what Margaret had been saying all along. I was fit to be her equal, this awesome, terrible witch of legend. I sat a little straighter on my hard perch.

  ‘They can’t stick her underground or in an insane asylum these days,’ she continued, casting me a fond glance, as if I were a daughter of her own soul. There was a certain smugness in her tone. ‘In these days of equality. And tonight, she will carry out the deed she must accomplish, and then will have shown them all that she is a first class witch and outside of their rules.’

  ‘And so, Meg,’ Aoghas replied, his tone very dry. ‘You have brought the Kin to my doorstep tonight. Am I to expect trouble?’

  Her hesitation in answering was the first sign she’d ever given that she was not infallible. She finally burst out with a laugh. ‘They would not dare to break the Covenant between Kin and Fae for such a small matter!’

  ‘Hmm,’ he said, not buying her bravado for a moment. ‘Just watch them. You are, after all, suggesting that the whole order of the world is to be turned on its head. Small minds do not take kindly to change or to having their positions threatened.’

  She drew a deep breath through her nose, her lips clamped tight. ‘Then we must make haste to get the deeds done. Have we your permission to proceed?’

  ‘I should just toss you out, Meg, throw you to the wolves who are no doubt baying at my gates,’ he laughed. ‘But do your business. I don’t fear the Kin. Not at Tomnahurich.’ Aonghas leaned back into his throne, his manner relaxed. It was only then I remembered with a start how small a being he was. During his conversation I’d forgotten that he wasn’t a large creature, his presence was so magnetic and commanding.

  ‘What do you have to sweeten the pot, dear Meg? What do I get out of this, besides a monumental amount of trouble from the Kin?’

  She snapped her fingers and Trevor stepped forward, clutching her carpet bag.

  Aonghas looked down with amusement. ‘A goblin, Meg? You couldn’t do better?’

  ‘In this world, we accept our allies where we find them,’ she replied crisply. ‘And Goblinkind is deserving of as much respect as Fae or Kin. We are all creatures of the One.’ She took the bag in her hand.

  ‘I have here not gold, of which you have no need.’

  The Fae King nodded.

  ‘Nor jewels or money of any kind,’ she added.

  He shrugged.

  ‘All I have for you is a promise,’ she continued, then opened the carpet bag to bring out a small box, the wood carved and polished to a shine. Even if it wasn’t glowing in an almost neon green in the dark, such a box could only hold great treasure.

  ‘My father’s ring,’ she whispered as she lifted the lid. ‘Now mine. Kept in safety by the Bodachs who guard my estate.’

  He stared at the box for a long moment, looking at the glowing golden signet ring within. It was her family’s personal seal, from the time when letters were sealed with wax and imprinted with the crest from that very ring. It was a Kin ring – I’d seen the same on my father’s hand, and Hugh’s hand. Imbued by the power of the witch who owned it, it was rarely removed from the finger. Margaret had never had the opportunity to wear it, yet she would willingly let Aonghas hold on to it as a pledge. His face was impassive, and it was impossible to see what thoughts went through his mind.

  Then he shook his head slowly and blew his breath out through pursed lips. ‘Meg, the forces of the Kin have followed you to my gate because you challenge the very fabric of Kin structure. It is a disruption at the least. And you know I can’t take your ring. It is no use to me whatsoever.’

  She merely smiled as if she knew all along what his answer would be. ‘It is a mere promise, as I indicated,’ she said. And then her tone turned acerbic. “I’ve been sitting in a dungeon for the past century and more, Aonghus, what do you expect? It’ll take me a while to sort the Trust. You’ve known me all my life. You know I’ll make it up to you.’

  Aonghas sighed in acknowledgement. ‘Yes, I well remember you as a child visiting our hallowed ground. You know you are like family, but this? This, Meg, is a step too far.’ He then lifted his arm, and pointed us to the edge of the hill wherein lay an altar of stone. ‘Go. Be about your witchery, then leave us in peace.’

  We gathered our belongings and turned towards the west. The moon was rising to our right, in the north-east.

  ‘And thou willst remember, Witch,’ he called out behind us. ‘Thy promise. Thee and thy band owest me and mine, and payment shall be when we demand.’

  She paused on her way, just for a micro second. His reversion to the formal language indicated to all present that this was not said lightly or in jest. He was doing a favour for Margaret, but there would be a reckoning someday, and woe betide the witch who did not hon
our her debts. And he’d included me and Fergie on his proclamation, just in case there was any future misunderstanding.

  ‘Aonghas, this is understood, and we three witches are grateful,’ she threw over her shoulder, then she sailed off down to the altar, the three of us in her wake.

  I glanced over at Fergie, her freckles standing out against the dim light and her face tense. I wish I had words to comfort her, but I had no idea how the night would turn out. I whispered a fervent prayer to the Christian God that Aunt Edna had refused to introduce me to, wishing now that I’d paid more attention in my Religious Studies course. Which was the patron saint who could help me now?

  St. Jude. That was it. The Saint of Hopeless Causes.

  20

  THE STONE ALTAR SAT AT THE END of the grassy aisle, surrounded by the ancient stones and even older trees near the edge of the clifftop overlooking the small city of Inverness. Like the miniature town of a model trainset from this height, the lights at the harbour shone bright and tiny headlights showed the cars scuttling to their destinations like electronic ants. I took a good long look at the humanity and civilization and normality, for there was a strong possibility I’d not see such a sight for a long time again.

  Margaret tied her hair back in readiness and I placed the Chronicle on the altar. It was a heavy tome, leather and wood carved, and it appeared to sparkle in the moonlight, the effervescence of tangled magic. She tossed me a look, her smile dancing with excitement.

  ‘What’s going to happen?’ I had to ask. So far she had given me little insight into the evening, or what was expected of us. I needed to be armed with what knowledge she would throw my way.

  ‘You shall go to the Ice King’s court,’ she said, a funny smile on her face as if puzzled that I didn’t understand. ‘You will, get your mother, then you will leave and return here.’

  ‘Wait. You said before you’re not coming.’ Suspicions were growing in my mind, and I smelled a trick.

  ‘Triangulation, remember. I need to stay here to ensure your return.’

  ‘I don’t like the sound of that. I’d prefer if you came with me.’

  She sighed. ‘And is your friend Fergie capable of reading the spell in the Chronicle and bringing us back?’

  I only had one answer to that, and she knew full well what it was. I’d seen the seemingly empty pages of that book. The unseen writings could only be read by Margaret.

  ‘Or perhaps you’d prefer to send us both out there and you stay behind?

  ‘Right, okay I see your point,’ I said slowly, still not liking it all. Of course it had to be me that went to get Mom, and it had to be Margaret that was our anchor in this dimension. I wish I knew more about how all this worked, then I would know if she was lying, but I was still too ignorant of all the rules and protocols of magic. ‘And the Chronicle?’

  ‘Stays here. It has to stay with you in this dimension only,’ she said, then turned that beatific smile on me. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t run away from you. After all, where is there for me to run?’

  ‘But, how will we get back?’ Panic was edging at my consciousness again, though I’d managed to keep it down over the evening. ‘I don’t know the spell.’

  ‘It is not the spell, as such,’ she said slowly. ‘I thought you understood. It is your Intention that matters. That’s all you need. Intention, pure and strong and confident. I will remain here as your anchor, as I said.’

  Confidence. I was flush with the full moon’s power, I could do anything, I had even bested Hugh in a fight. Yet full confidence required a full belief in my own abilities not to screw things up, and I knew that wasn’t one of my strong points.

  She must have seen my inner struggle but she merely shrugged. ‘Dara. I can’t give you confidence, you know this. You have the means to accomplish this within you, or you wouldn’t have the desire. Come now, no more of this childish flummery. Accept that you have the power.’

  Fergie and I merely looked at each other. I could tell she didn’t have the confidence in me either. Meanwhile, Trevor was bouncing around us in excitement, oblivious to our tension, the horrible little toad.

  Yes, I was indeed lacking in confidence. To cover my confusion, I took it out on the goblin.

  ‘Why are you so happy?’ I muttered at him.

  ‘You mind your own business,’ he said smugly. ‘You’re not the only one getting their dream come true tonight.’

  ‘What, you want to go to the Ice Kingdom?’

  ‘Yes, I want to see the world,’ he told me. I could tell he was lying, but there was no time to bicker with him. Besides, if Margaret was right we’d need his nose to lead us through the maze.

  I turned my back on him to face Margaret who was patiently waiting.

  ‘Come now, all, gather round.’ Her eyes were shining, large like the moon itself. ‘Dara are you feeling the power?’

  I nodded dumbly. I couldn’t ignore it – the longer I stood in the direct beams of the moon, the more the joy infused me. My very nerve ends sang like wires in the wind, and I felt the flow of life through every artery and vein, and my heart pumped loudly. Fergie and I found each other’s hands. In this heightened state, I could taste her fear, and I squeezed her to give comfort. ‘I won’t let you down.’

  The goblin danced beside me, grabbing both our free hands to create the circle. He placed Fergie’s other hand in mine, and standing in the center, held both our combined fists, lacing his skinny digits in ours so that the bond was inseparable. His hands in ours were clammy and the thrill in him sizzled static against my skin. He held tightly and would not let us go.

  ‘Dara, you must not linger in the Court of the Ice,’ Margaret warned. ‘Time is of the essence. The portal which the full moon allows is open only for two hours in our time, and the night is drawing to a close. I have no idea how time passes on the other side. Make haste. Use your time wisely. I can’t guarantee that I will be able to hold the door open after the moon goes past its zenith.’

  Margaret didn’t fuss with pentagrams or candles or incense or any of the usual tools of witchery. She had no need, for she was Margaret Forsythe, touched by the Stone all those years ago, and the power of this stone still ran through her.

  As it ran through me, and would continue to do so for all of my life. Hugh’s words of earlier that evening came back to me. The power granted by touching the Crystal Charm Stone was not a limited time deal, it wouldn’t run out of juice or ever need recharging. The Stone had changed my very DNA, as Hugh had told me, and was mine forever. I was like Margaret. What a pair we would be.

  She was intoning words – should I have been paying attention? Did I need this spell in order to return? No matter – she had said all I would need was Intention. Fergie was still tense beside me.

  ‘Now, Dara, now witches, set your minds to the Ice King. Call him forth and bid you thither.’ Her voice rang through the atmosphere, echoing off the ancient stone monuments behind us and forcing itself above the rising wind.

  And at that moment I understood why three witches had been necessary, I could see it all. Margaret was our anchor, to keep the connection to home, while Fergie and I were the vessels that rode the magic and the moonbeams, all the way to the Mother Moon and beyond, to the Aurora Borealis twinkling in the skies and on into the Realm of the Ice.

  WE STOOD ON A PLAIN OF ICE which stretched for miles as far as the eye could see, and ringed on all sides by mountains, the granite of their treacherous cliffs and crags scraping through the cover of blanket of frozen snow, too tall to be touched by glaciers.

  Yet in this inhospitable landscape, the world was alive with color and we were standing at the very heart of the Northern Lights, the vast curtains of brilliance in technicolor green and purple dancing all around us. I stopped and breathed in the lights, for this was pure electricity, pure magic, the music of the spheres humming in our ears beyond the galing of the wind. This was the very force of life, the leftover exuberance of Creation, t
he never ending battery of all that animated the world. I stopped in awe at this terrible, raw power.

  Directly behind us was the bottom of the huge mountain which rose straight out of the ice and towered far up into the Northern Lights. I could see no footholds to climb, there was no way that wall of ice was scalable. And no entrance was visible.

  ‘What now?’ Fergie’s voice echoed the despondence I felt.

  But Trevor had let go of our hands and was scrabbling away at the base of the glacial mountain, like a dog sniffing a bone. The snow was flying under his efforts, caught up in the wind and blinding us.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Don’t just stand there, come help me,’ his voice was muffled. ‘The entrance is down here, I can smell it.’

  We set to, kicking the mounds of snow away until at last, we had success. The entrance sat in the shadows under a jutting crag, no light showing beyond the pitch black of the cave.

  ‘Sure about this, Trevor?’

  It was a small hole in the solid rock underneath all that ice, barely big enough for the goblin to crawl through, let alone Fergie, but it was all we had. He didn’t answer – I could already see his butt disappearing into the cave.

  ‘Let me go first,’ Fergie said, the reluctance clearly on her face. ‘That way you can push me if I get stuck.’

  She looked at me drearily, then got down on her knees. Half-way through, she only needed a little assistance from me and a pull from Trevor at the other end. The goblin must be stronger than he looked.

  ‘What the feck have you gotten me into?’ I could hear her wail from the other side. ‘’Ah God, get your stinkin’ paws off me already!’

  Then it was my turn to squish and squeeze, and with both Fergie and Trevor pulling at my arms I was through in no time. I tentatively stood up, but I didn’t need to worry, for I could feel through the air currents and echoes that we were in a place taller than my head, but not by much.