by Karen Nilsen
“But why do you have to go so quickly? Why can’t you stay here a few months, let Merius save up his wages, and then join him when he’s settled?”
“Did you miss the part where we got married? I’ll not be parted from him, not when there’s no need for it.”
“Safire, I just know there’s going to be talk, with you leaving so quickly after what happened . . .”
“There’s going to be talk anyway,” Merius said. “There already is talk. Better for us to get out of here and out of people’s minds as quickly as possible.”
“So you taking her away like this, from me, from the only home she’s ever known, is to protect her?”
“You know, Dagmar, I respect your devotion to Safire, but you need to accept that she’s a married woman now. Her place is with me. She made a vow to me, just as I made a vow to her. I’ll not let any harm come to her, not as long as I draw breath. All right?”
Dagmar nodded, her face suddenly in her hands. “It just scares me sometimes,” she said finally, her voice muffled.
“What scares you?” I went to her and rubbed her shaking shoulders.
“What you can do--it scares me.”
“Why? I would never hurt anyone . . .”
“No, no--I know that. It‘s not that.” She looked up, kohl in dark, teary streaks under her eyes. “You know, it used to scare me when we were children and we heard about the witch burnings--I always worried they would come and take you and Mother away. Please, Safire, keep it hidden, like Mother hid her talents. She taught you how . . .”
“I don’t know if I can hide it like Mother did,” I said gently.
“Why not?”
“Because I’m not Mother. That spirit in the House of Landers,” I said, careful not to say whose spirit in Merius’s presence, “that spirit almost killed me because I didn’t know how to use my talents. I never want to hide my talents so much that I never learn how to use them. I‘m vulnerable no matter what I do--we‘re all vulnerable no matter what we do. Don‘t you think I worry about you, that perhaps you inherited Mother‘s weak lungs? But I would never let my worry for you eclipse my hopes for you. I love you, and I‘ll miss you, sister.”
Dagmar nodded. “I love you too.”
“We’ll be back before you know it,” I continued, hugging her with all my strength. It was a long moment before we relinquished each other.
Merius touched my shoulder, and I glanced back at him. “I hate to rush you, sweet, but we should leave for Calcors by noon,” he said. “Are you all packed?”
“Mostly.” I smiled at him and put my hand in his, our fingers intertwining.
“Will you come to the docks to see us off, Dagmar?” Merius asked. “Boltan will be happy to escort you.”
She shook her head. “It would be easier for me to part with you here. If I see you board the ship, I won’t be able to imagine that you’re still here when I get lonesome.”
“I’ll write you as soon as we reach Sarneth.”
“You better,” she said. “I’ll be counting the days till you’re safe at home again.”
Dagmar had just called this place my home, and she was right. The trees in my ancestors’ forests had become the timbers of this house, the stones under their feet its foundation. My childhood still rustled in the leaves of the oaks, my girlish storm of tears still fed the creek at the edge of the lower field, my prayers over my parents’ graves still whispered in the windswept grass. I shut my eyes for an instant, overwhelmed suddenly at the reality of leaving. Dagmar had baked a gingerbread this morning for us to take on the voyage, and the warm scent of it lingered, a ghost of Mother. I took a deep breath.
Merius’s fingers tightened around mine, insistent. I opened my eyes and looked at him, already knowing he would be looking at me. The morning sunlight lit the auburn in his dark hair, coppered the stubble along his jaw, the flint gray of his eyes sparking devilish merriment. He was happy to be off on an adventure, happy to be on the move, happy to take me away with him. He didn’t have to say it, not to me. I could sense it. His silvery aura danced, blinding in the sunlight, a shimmering net he used to catch the world around him. He had me caught forever. He had told me once that I was an impossible knot he wanted to untie. Somewhere in all his untying, he had loosened me from girlhood and bound me to becoming a woman. His woman. I was his now, as he was mine. This fledgling man, my Merius, my home.
I smiled at him, raised one brow. “Are you ready to go?”
About the Author
As a child, Karen suffered frequent bouts of insomnia. The only way she could settle into sleep many nights was to imagine stories that played out like movies on the dark ceiling over her bed. Since her mean parents refused to replace the TV after the cat blew it up by peeing on the cord, all Karen had left to entertain herself in the lone wilds of the Minnesota wilderness were books and her own stories. As Karen grew, the stories grew with her. One day when she was fourteen, she told her mother one of these stories for probably the hundredth time. Her mother, who knew Karen very well, turned to her and said, “You know, Karen, you keep talking about these stories, but you never write them down. You keep saying you’re going to write a novel, but I don’t believe that you will.” This comment infuriated Karen so much that she started writing her stories down and hasn’t stopped since.
Other Works
Fledgling Witch: A Novella (Prequel to the Landers Saga)
Tapestry Lion (Book Two of the Landers Saga)
Phoenix Ashes (Book Three of the Landers Saga)
The Curious Fear of High and Lonely Places (Book Four of the Landers Saga)
The Bird Children (Book One of the Phoenix Realm) - available February 2014
Across the Summer Sea (Book Two of the Phoenix Realm) - available Winter 2014 / 2015
You can learn more about my current projects at www.karennilsen.com .
Acknowledgements
I am lucky to have many talented writers as friends.
My special thanks to Doug’s critique group, specifically Doug, Cheryl, Margaret, Cynthia, and Jim, who all read the first draft of The Witch Awakening the way a novel is meant to be read, beginning to end instead of piecemeal, and offered invaluable feedback on the story as a whole.
Special thanks to Robert’s critique group. They introduced me to the joys of being part of a writers’ group and their examples and advice continue to help me hone my craft.
Special thanks to the many friends and mentors who have encouraged me through the years with my writing, too numerous to name here. Just know that without each and every one of you in my life, I never could have written this book.
