Eclipse

by Cate Tiernan

  This wasn’t how Morgan usually talked, but I had the feeling it was who she really was,

  inside. On the outside she was kind of shy and hard to get to know. Inside, she was glowing and powerful and ancient.

  “Focus,” came her voice.

  Slowly I opened my eyes, feeling nausea trying to take over. I clamped it down and tried to forget about it. Outside, it was almost as dark as night. What little light there was looked strange, tinted with an almost greenish hue, as if right before an eclipse. Bits of last year’s leaves were whipping around, swirling in tiny dust devils on top of headstones. Feeling dreamy, relaxed, and stupidly confident, I saw Hunter coming back through the woods. I felt Morgan’s awareness of him through my eyes, felt her rush of love, of longing, of uncertainty. I tried not to pay attention to it. Hunter’s eyes looked huge and green, with dark hollows beneath them. His face was white and looked carved out of marble, his cheekbones angled sharply, the skin stretched tight.

  “Begin,” he said.

  It was an incredibly weird feeling, being connected to Morgan. As long as I didn’t think about it, I was okay. Whenever I remembered it again, I felt a rush of pain and nausea. Hunter handed me a large bowl of salt, and with this I traced a circle of protection on the ground. He helped by placing stones of power and protection all around that circle. Then I buried my hands in the salt and rubbed it against my skin.The rest I sprinkled around me. I had four embossed silver bowls that Hunter had given me. In one was dirt, in another water. In one was a tiny fire that Morgan had kindled, so it wasn’t affected by the wind, and in the last was incense burning with an orange glow. I put these cups at east, south, west, and north to represent the four elements. Mr. Niall had had given me a gold pocket watch, and I set that in the center of my circle. Then I was ready to begin the first part. It should take almost twenty minutes, if I did it correctly. Just as I raised my arms, I felt a shimmering presence: Mr. Niall. In my mind he was called Maghach, but Morgan was just called Morgan. After a moment to get used to this new presence, I took a deep, cleansing breath, released it, and began. “On this day, at this hour, I invoke the Goddess and the God,” I said, holding my arms skyward. “You who are pure in your intent, aid me in this spell. By earth and water and fire and air, strengthen this spell. By spring and summer and fall and winter, strengthen this spell. By witches both past and present, of my blood and not of my blood, strengthen this spell. Help my heart be pure, my crafting joyous, my hands sure and steady, and my mind open to receive your wisdom.”

  Here I drew runes and sigils to identify myself as the spellworker and Mr. Niall as the spellcrafter. I identified the place, the time of year, the phase of the moon, the hour of the day. Then I walked deasil in a circle three times, my arms held out.

  “I make this spell to right a wrong, I need your help to make it strong. Today we join to

  heal a wound, My voice will lift in joyous sound. My hope is ancient, vision sure; The

  goal I seek is good and pure. I am your servant, I ask again, Show faith in magick, ease

  our pain.”

  After this came a simple power chant, designed to raise whatever powers I had as well as to call the Goddess and the God. Whenever I had practiced this at Hunter’s, I’d caused something to explode, so I wasn’t sure what would happen now. Morgan’s voice came to me in my head. Alisa, you’re doing so well. I drew more sigils in the air and on the ground. Mr. Niall had explained these as being a kind of history, quickly describing who he was and who I was and whatever we knew about the power sink. Then I knelt back down. The first part was done. I heard Morgan say that the first part had been perfect and to go into the second part. I stood up and took another breath, holding my arms out to my sides. I was aware of a cold, damp wind whipping my hair around, I knew that it was pitch-dark outside, but mostly I was aware within myself of the perfect, lovely form of the spell that Maghach had crafted. In my mind I could it see it all finished, done, its layers upon layers. I needed to focus and do it step by step.

  The second part was the longest and hardest. Something in me started to feel anxious, as if I were running out of time. It was either Morgan or Maghach. I stepped quickly into the form of the second part, the limitations. “This spell is to ignite on the thirtieth day of the first month of spring,” I began, my voice sounding thin against the wind. “The moon is full and on the wane. The length of the spell shall not exceed five minutes after igniting. It shall be contained within these barriers.”

  Here I knelt and drew sigils on the ground, then runes that further identified the exact location, to within a hundred feet, of where the spell would have life. I began to feel an urgency, and I drew more quickly. Suddenly my mind went blank, and I stared down at at the ground and my unmoving hand. Another sigil? Another rune? On the ground? In the air? Do I get up now? An icy bead of sweat trickled down my back as adrenaline flooded my body. Oh no oh no oh no.

  “Tyr,” came Morgan’s voice, calm and sure inside my head. I almost started weeping with relief. I drew the rune Tyr on the ground with sharp movements. “Ur,” she went on patiently.“Thorn.Then Yr.Then the battle sigil, in the air.” Yes, yes, I thought, following her instructions. “Sigils for moon phase,” she coached me gently.

  Yes, I know now. I thought back, recognizing my place once again. I walked in the circle

  in the shape of a moon, then drew its identity in the air. “The spell shall have no other purpose than that described here,” I went on. “It shall affect no other being than those described here. It shall not exist or ignite ever again in perpetuity, except for the time described here. This spell is intended only for goodness, for safety, to right a wrong. My intent is pure. I work not in anger, nor hatred, nor judgment.”

  On and on I went.The limitations of a spell are the most important part, especially for something like this.

  This part took almost thirty minutes. I moved as quickly as I could and still be precise and exact, not skipping anything. Three more times I forgot what to do, and each time panic overwhelmed me until Morgan talked me through the next step. Her voice sounded strained but incredibly calm and reassuring. I was no longer aware of where Hunter was or what he was doing. I felt a dim outline of Maghach in my head. Sometimes I felt cold wind, or a heavy weight pressing on me, or was aware of leaves whipping around me. I stayed within my circle and worked the spell. At the end of the second part I wanted to lie down and cry. The air itself was starting to feel bad, to affect me as if I were breathing fumes of poison. I felt exhausted and nauseated, and my head pounded. The third part was the actual form of the spell itself. The fourth part would be fast: igniting it. “Keep going, Alisa,” said Morgan, a thin line of ice underlying her calm voice. “Keep going.You can do it.You’re strong. You know it. Now state the actual spell.” I wiped the sweat off my forehead and turned to the east. “With this spell I create an opening, a bith dearc, between this world and the netherworld,” I began, my voice sounding shaky. “I create an unnatural tear between life and death, between light and dark, between salvation and revenge.” And on it went, sometimes in English, sometimes in modern Gaelic, which I had done a decent job of memorizing, and some in ancient Gaelic, which Morgan and Maghach had to coach me through, practically word by word. I walked within my circle, creating patterns, layers of patterns, layers of intent. I drew sigils in the air and on the ground. I drew sigils on myself and around myself. Suddenly I froze, looking at the billowing, oily black cloud roaring our way. It looked sickening, tinged with green, and it was getting so close. I felt like the breath was knocked out of me. Oh my God, this was real, and it was here, and I was really going to die.We were all really going to die.

  Morgan started talking to me, but I couldn’t move. The closer it got, the sicker I felt, and the more Morgan’s voice sounded strained and weak. I barely felt Maghach at all anymore.

  It’s over, I thought. I won’t finish in time. I looked around wildly for Hunter and saw him

  hunched over next to a tomb
stone.When he looked up at me, he looked like he had aged thirty years.

  I had so much more to go, and the black cloud of destruction was almost upon us. Morgan’s voice in my head urged me on, and like a robot I started working through the last section of the third part, going as fast as I could. I was shaking all over: I thought I would throw up at any second, and basically I felt like I was standing there waiting to die. The first blast of death, of darkness, was barely twenty yards away. My hands trembling, I sketched an inverted pentagram in the air before me. I had finished the third part of the spell.

  “Ignite it!” Hunter yelled, his voice sounding strangled. “Ignite it!” Morgan screamed in my head. Again I felt frozen with terror, shaky and stupid and ill. The dark wave was almost upon us, and I was mesmerized by it. In its boiling, choking clouds I could see faint outlines of faces, pinched and withered and hungry, eager. My body went cold. Each one of those people had once been someone like me—someone facing this terrible cloud. It was horrifying.The most horrible thing I had ever seen or even imagined. “Ignite it! Alisa!” Morgan screamed.

  Mindless with fear, I mechanically whispered the words that would set the spell into motion, that would let it spark into life, for good or for bad. Shaking so much I could hardly stand, I held out my arms and choked out, “Nal nithrac, cair na rith la, cair nith la!”

  I felt a huge surge of energy inside me—it seemed to start in the ground, then it shot through me and out from my fingers and the top of my head. It was warmth and light and energy and happiness all at once: my magickal power. Then the faces were here, and the air and the earth ripped open in front of me, as if the whole world as I knew it, reality, were just a painting that someone had slashed. The gold pocket watch I had placed on the ground exploded, and the blast knocked me off my feet. I flew backward and my head cracked against a marble tombstone. Sparks exploded in my throbbing head, and I cried out. Ten feet away, I saw the dark wave suddenly rushing down into the rip, the bith dearc I had made. The ghost faces in it looked surprised, then horrified, then enraged. But they had no power over the spell I had cast. The whole wave disappeared into the rip while I stared. Then my vision went fuzzy, and everything became blessedly quiet and safe, black and still.

  “Oh, God,” I moaned, trying to feel the back of my head. “Oh, God, this hurts.” “Stay still for a moment,” said Morgan’s voice.

  I blinked up at her. She was sitting next to me, and she seemed to be smashing some

  greenish moss together in her hands. “My head hurts,” I said, like a little kid, and then I remembered everything. “Oh, God!” I cried, trying to sit up, only to be struck down by pain. “Morgan, what happened? What happened?” When her eyes met mine, I realized that she was no longer inside my mind, but separate and herself. In her eyes I saw so much more than I had ever seen before. It was like a wise, learned woman was inside Morgan’s body, and that woman’s eyes were telling me things I could only barely begin to understand. “Morgan?”

  “Hold on,” she said, then gently lifted my head and pressed her gunk against where it hurt.

  “Ow!”

  “You’ll feel better soon,” she said.

  A shadow fell across me, and I looked up to see Hunter. He crouched down next to me, and Morgan nodded as if to tell him I would be all right. “You did it,” Hunter said, his voice sounding raspy. “Alisa, you did it.You performed the spell. It worked.You saved us.”

  Unexpectedly this made me start crying, which made my head hurt more. Morgan, whom I’d always thought of as a little cold, took my hand and patted it, her own eyes shining with tears.

  “Morgan did it,” I said, trying to stop crying. “ I almost forgot everything. She told me what to do.”

  “Hunter’s father told me what to say to you,” she said. “It was him. I was just a messenger.” She looked wrung out and tired, and there were bits of dried grass and leaves in her hair.

  Very slowly I sat up and found that the horrible throbbing in my head had lessened. “Where is Mr. Niall?” I asked. “I don’t feel him anymore.” “Right there.” Hunter pointed. About fifteen feet away, Hunter’s father was kneeling on the ground. “He’s closing the bith dearc forever,” Hunter explained. “Only this one, of course. There will always be more, and other dark waves, too. But as far as we know, this is the first and only time anyone’s ever defeated one. Now we can teach others how to do it. By this time next year maybe we’ll have put a stop to Amyranth for good.” Morgan fished in her coat and found a purple scarf, which she tied over my head. “When you get home, leave that stuff on for another two hours. Then wash your hair,” she instructed me. “Then take some Tylenol and pass out. You’ve earned it.”

  I looked around. “I can’t believe it,” I said. “It worked. We’re still alive. Everyone’s still

  alive.” More tears coursed down my cheeks, and I rubbed them away with my sleeve. Morgan leaned against Hunter, and he put his arm around her. “I used my powers,” I said in wonder.

  “You sure did.” A hint of a smile crossed Morgan’s face. We looked at each other for a long moment, and I realized that Morgan and I understood each other. We had bonded.We were witches. 15-Morgan

  ><“The Nal Nithrac spell is lengthy and difficult, but not impossible for one witch to

  perform. While the basic spell can be utilized against any dark wave, care must be taken

  to make it accurate as to the place, time, and people involved. As was shown in Widow’s

  Vale, it is of great value to have some item that carries the vibrations of the wave creator,

  but it is not always necessary.”

  —Daniel Niall of Turloch-eigh><

  “I can’t believe it’s over,” said Hunter. I nodded, smiling weakly. “I just want life to get back to normal—whatever normal is,” I said. I stretched my feet toward the fire in Hunter’s living room. It had taken us a while to make it back to our cars and figure out if we could drive or not, but now we were resting and drinking hot mulled cider.

  “All of you performed magnificently,” said Hunter’s father. “We made a great team,” said Hunter. Alisa looked pleased. Which reminded me. I got up and checked the back of her head. She’d stopped bleeding an hour ago, and she said it didn’t hurt that much anymore. I had given her some arnica montana to take every six hours for two days, and I knew she’d heal pretty quickly. “I can’t wait for other witches to hear about this,” I said. “For so long no one’s had any defense against a dark wave. Now they do. It’s like you discovered penicillin, Mr. Niall.” “Please call me Daniel,” he said,“or Maghach.” Thank the Goddess, I thought. He was finally accepting me. Besides, my tongue kept tripping over “Mr. Niall,” and we’d already been through a tàth meànma together. “I’m hopeful that the spell will work in other places, when needed,” Daniel said. “As long as the specifications and limitations are adjusted accordingly. But yes, this is wonderful news for the whole witch community.”

  “I still can’t believe what it felt like, when I felt the power flow through me,” Alisa said.

  “It was . . . really . . . ”

  “Indescribable,” I said, and she nodded. “In a good way,” she added.

  “Good,” said Hunter. “Now we have to start teaching you things. But first, I’m starved—I haven’t eaten in a week, it seems like.” “I’m hungry, too,” said Daniel.

  “Pizza would be good,” Alisa suggested.

  “Yeah, we could—” I stopped and gasped, then looked at the mantel clock. “Oh, no, I am way late!” I said, scrambling to my feet. I still felt like I was recovering from the flu, but I knew I was getting better, and that made it okay. “Mom is going to kill me—this is the second time this week.”

  When I looked up, three pairs of eyes were watching me with amusement.“What?” I said. “You just saved all of Kithic,” Alisa said, snickering. “And you’re worried about being late for dinner,” said Hunter. “Do you want me to call your parents?” Daniel offered. “I could explain w
hy you were unavoidably delayed.”

  We all broke into laughter, and I shook my head. “I really should get home,” I said. “But I’ll see you guys soon.” I got into my coat, and Hunter walked me out to the front porch. “Can you make it home okay?” he asked, putting his arms around me, holding me tight. “Yeah.” I snuggled closer. “We really stopped it. We stopped the dark wave.” “Yes, we did.” His hand stroked my hair, which I knew still had grass in it. I looked up at him. “Now we have to look toward the future. Like figuring out what you want to do if you leave the council.And if we’re ever going to have time alone together,” I said meaningfully, and he grinned.

  “Yes, we must talk about that soon.”

  We kissed good-bye, and I walked out to Das Boot. The dark wave was no more. Ciaran

  was no longer a threat to me or anyone else, and someday I hoped to come to terms with how that had happened. Hunter and I were thinking about our future—together. When I pulled into my driveway and walked slowly up the path, I felt unnaturally light and free. The humidity and weight were gone from the air. I almost felt like skipping. Then my gaze fell to the ground beneath me. I knelt down to get a closer look, and when I saw them, I let out a gleeful little laugh. My mother’s crocuses, bright purple and yellow, had miraculously sprung back to life.