The Omen of Stones

by Casey L. Bond

  Now that Omen knew how to spirit from place to place, Mom would teach us how to defend ourselves with spell magic. If I could talk her into it, she might even teach us something more advanced, like how to attack or how to call on the darkness.

  Fate had blessed her with the ability to call on his darkness without falling prey to it; perhaps he would allow the Fate-Kissed to call on it without consequence.

  25

  Omen

  River’s mother hated me.

  Her eyes were impenetrable and dark. Not quite black or brown, but a vibrant shade in between that matched her wavy hair and the richness of her name. “Again,” she criticized sharply. “You aren’t trying.”

  Except I was. But instead of arguing, I kept trying to remember the incantation she’d rattled off so quickly I didn’t get a chance to memorize it. I reached into my pocket, brushing the pad of my thumb over my hag stone. Fate spoke and I heard him as clearly as when I stood in the river during a storm. As out of place as I felt, he comforted me with his voice.

  Your magic will only obey your words, Omen.

  We were trying to conjure flame, which we were told was one of the most basic spells that even those born without an affinity for fire should be able to master. River managed a spark, which quickly flared…and then was extinguished by his next exhalation of breath. At his disheartened groan, I couldn’t help the smile that crept over my lips.

  We sat on the lawn away from the Houses, just in case we were proficient at conjuring flame. It turned out that Sable’s cautiousness was grossly misplaced.

  As I thought about what Fate said, it finally began to sink in. I couldn’t use Sable’s spells because they weren’t mine. They weren’t made by or infused with my magic. I would have to make my own. Swallowing nervously, I closed my eyes and let the words flow from my heart and pour from my mouth. “Warmth and heat, never tame, devouring fire, give me flame.”

  The kindling bundle on the ground in front of me suddenly burst into flame, burning hot and fast until all the pine needles were nothing but white ash.

  Sable watched the heap burn itself out. “Good,” she finally complimented.

  Sensing River’s frustration, I whispered the advice I’d been given. “Make the spell your own. Weave your words with your magic.”

  River thought for a moment and incanted his own spell. I saw the mist of his magic wrap around his words and slither around the kindling bundle, constricting until the pale mist turned bright yellow and orange with hints of blue threaded throughout. It turned to flame and smothered the kindling pile he’d carefully constructed.

  Sable looked taken aback, confiding, “I make my own spells, too, but never considered that they wouldn’t work for you.”

  “They sort of worked,” River laughed. “I did get a spark.”

  She smiled at her son, then at me. “Omen, you did well to recognize that the spell needed something I couldn’t provide.”

  “Fate guided me,” I admitted. “I never would have known otherwise.”

  River winked at me before turning his attention back to his mother.

  “Sky and Lyric were struggling earlier. Perhaps I should find them and see if their magic responds in kind before we carry on,” Sable said, turning around to peer through the clusters of witches heaped around the Center. She saw one of my sisters and started toward her. “Sky?” she called out.

  “That’s Lyric,” I told River, stifling a laugh.

  “I’m not sure how you tell them apart,” River mumbled, looking across the yard with an amused grin.

  “That’s easy. Sky is standing beside Brecan,” I laughed.

  Sable found her and pointed her over to where we sat in the grass. Sky begrudgingly excused herself from Brecan’s side and trudged toward us.

  “How can she be infatuated with him so fast?” I asked.

  River smiled, plucking a small rock from the ground. He lobbed it at me, but I stopped it in midair and rotated it while spinning it in a slow circle, like a small planet orbiting an unseen sun. “Why can’t attraction develop quickly? It doesn’t have to be slow and steady. It could burn bright and hot.”

  “It might burn out faster that way,” I replied shyly, plucking at the grass.

  “Or it might never burn out,” he offered with a shrug. “No one expected my parents to last. They’re from two different worlds.”

  “Like us,” I blurted before thinking what my words implied. “Not that we’re fated like them,” I recovered lamely, my face burning hotter than the kindling I’d lit.

  Saving me from further embarrassment, Sky plopped down next to us and Sable arrived with Lyric in tow. She told my sisters what Fate had revealed to me, and soon each had conjured fire in her own way.

  Together, we learned how to conjure the elements. What began with tiny sparks ended with infernos that stretched high into the sky. With River and my sisters focusing on the same flame, feeding it through our magic and the words that bolstered it, the fire grew taller than any witch in The Gallows had ever seen. Even Ethne, the Priestess of the House of Fire, and her witches came to marvel at it. We called on wind to blow the flame and twist it into a funnel, making sure to keep it steady and under control. Then, Sable told us to transform the wind tunnel into water. The flame bled away and the swirling wind began to gather water into its twisted form. Sky manipulated the wind, turning the twister into a pounding waterfall.

  “Release it. Rein in your magic!” Sable yelled over the roar.

  The water crashed toward the ground, but I whispered a command that quickly vaporized it, stopping it from soaking us all and washing us across the lawn.

  Sable eyed me distrustfully. “You’re a very quick study, Omen.” There was more than admiration in her tone. There was accusation.

  I was many things, but not a liar. Her son could attest to my feelings about lying. Dropping the matter, she suggested we practice a spell to call forth growth from the earth, which was such a vague directive, we each had a different idea of what she meant.

  The entire Center had filled with witches of every affinity. “What manner of witches are these?” one said behind me. “I thought they were Fate witches. Look at what they can do.”

  Lyric made a voluminous tunnel formed by roses, their stems and thorns providing stability to the airy blooms. Sky caused enormous vines to crawl across the ground, lifting us from the grass. We’d begun these lessons uncertain and awkward, but with Fate’s simple guidance, became confident and powerful.

  The confidence we felt was quickly squashed by the caution and mistrust that flowed over the witches in Thirteen. The witches giving us shelter and protection now feared us. We’d been invited to dine with Mira’s House tonight, but would be invited to another tomorrow, per Sable. I hoped they would come to see us as allies instead of something to be feared.

  Sable’s voice cut the tension swelling in the Center. “You can defend yourselves with any of these, be it a crashing wave or a gust so mighty it blows your enemy away or renders them useless. But you must be fast. A practiced witch won’t be stopped by any of these parlor tricks for long,” she warned.

  As the witches were called back into their Houses, she stepped close and motioned for our small group to form a circle. Once the witches from the other Houses funneled out of the Center, my sisters and I relaxed a little. So did River.

  “What about offensive magic?” River asked. “I want to be able to face any situation and have a fighting chance. I know we’ve barely scratched the surface of spell magic, but I already feel much better now that I know I can use it. But what if we need to be aggressive and act quickly? We need to be able to act without waiting for help from someone more experienced.”

  Sable pursed her lips. “Ask Fate for his blessing, and I’ll teach you what you need to know.” With that, she strode toward Tauren, who stood with Mira and Arron across the
field with another man.

  River answered my unasked question. “That’s Knox,” he offered quietly.

  Tauren’s brother. Leader of the Guard.

  He didn’t look like a soldier. He wore no armor, and though I was sure he was armed, I couldn’t tell it. He stood tall in a fine suit, with hair long enough to curl around his ears. His smile was easy, but not oily like Edward Smith’s. Knox didn’t have to try to show everyone how confident he was. Knox simply was. He spoke with the King, Queen, Mira, and Arron for a long moment before Sable nodded toward us.

  Knox strode across the lawn, smiling and extending his hand. He shook Sky’s hand and she greeted him pleasantly. He then shook Lyric’s, who nodded her hello. And finally, he shook mine, punctuating his kind words with a nod. He pulled River in for a side hug, whispering to his nephew, “I told them you’d be fine, but you know how they worry.” He rolled his eyes, but I could see that beneath the playfulness lay relief.

  River smiled and replied, “Understatement.”

  “Do all of you know this Edward Smith fellow?” he asked, cutting right to the heart of the matter. We all affirmed with nods and yes’s. “Good. I have a theory, but need your help confirming it. We have no record of banishing anyone named Edward Smith, but there is one other who fits the information you’ve provided.”

  “Who is he?” River asked, plucking the words from my mouth.

  “Edward Renk,” he said tersely.

  River

  Mom and Dad arrived with Mira and Arron and our circle expanded to allow them into the circumference. “Who is Edward Renk?” I asked.

  Mom was the one who answered. “On the night of the Autumnal Equinox, the night I met your father, I hung a young man who had strangled a witch and left her body in the woods at the border with Twelve – where he lived. His name was Jenson Renk. There were others with him that night when I caught up to their party. His brothers, Mason and Edward,” Mom admitted.

  She looked to my father, who nodded to Knox. “Edward Renk,” Knox began, “was banished to The Wilds shortly after your Father and Mother hand-fasted. He was the first Purist – a title he gave himself – and the group he founded and led became increasingly violent. Since he was removed, the antics of the remaining Purists have mostly been an aggravation, led by none other than his other brother Mason Renk, but their outbursts and protests have been nothing like what Edward Renk instigated.” He cupped Mom’s elbow. “Can you show them?”

  “He would look much different now,” she hedged. I thought she was about to tell him no, but she continued. “Then again, maybe they can tell if it’s him or not.” She pursed her lips. “I never meant to hide any of my past from you, River, but I was afraid to share what I did back then. I didn’t want you to look at me like a monster.”

  “I could never look at you that way, Mom,” I promised.

  She swallowed thickly and nodded, then swiped her hand across the air, whispering a spell that projected her memory in front of us from her point of view.

  Fate was with her then, as he was with us now. We felt him and his influence on her when he gave his command to go and find the murderer, to end him and make him pay. We watched her stalk into the woods by herself, completely unafraid of who lurked inside the shadows. A murderer. A true monster.

  She approached three young men who were encircling a young Earth witch, judging by her green robes. The girl looked frightened, like a rabbit cornered by foxes.

  They didn’t realize Mom was there until she spoke. “Lovely evening,” she said, staring up at the evening sky. “Do you know these boys?” she asked the Earth witch. Madeline, Fate whispered through the memory. “Do you know them, Madeline?”

  The young witch shook her head fast. She began to cry.

  “We know her,” one of the young men lied. There were dimples in his cheeks, but he could have passed for a younger Edward if it wasn’t for that. Fate’s mark pulsed upon his forehead, black as ichor and poisonous as an asp. A blurred, inverted triangle…

  “You lie,” Mom’s voice echoed. She waved for Madeline and called for her to come closer. Madeline was frozen by indecision for a moment, but then quickly moved behind Mom. “Go find Priestess Ela. Remain at her side. It’s time,” Mom told her.

  “Time for what?” the dimpled young man asked.

  She looked at each of the young men, who all looked alike. Not like triplets, but certainly related. The one to the right of the man Fate marked was younger, but there was a sharpness in his eyes that set me on edge. The man to the left of Fate’s marked one was slightly older.

  “That’s Edward,” Omen breathed. Sky voiced her agreement as Lyric nodded, neither unable to tear their eyes away.

  The memory replayed conversation between my mother and the three brothers, then the one marked by Fate took off running. His brothers ran, too, but didn’t run to help him. They ran to save their own skins.

  We watched the moment Mom threw her noose, landing it over his head and quickly jerking it tight around his neck. But she erased the scene before we saw her drag him back to the gallows and hang him.

  Mom was visibly upset, fighting to keep her emotions hidden. Dad held her at his side, a constant support.

  “Mom,” I croaked, “you weren’t the monster in that memory.”

  26

  Sable

  Tauren paced around Brecan’s study as Brecan leaned against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, watching him. I stood just inside the closed door after spelling the room to keep our conversation private.

  Knox had compiled intelligence on the Purist leader I’d semi-assaulted when River first went missing. In my fury, I hadn’t even considered who he was. Mason Renk, the youngest brother of Edward and the late Jenson. He was also the loudest mouthpiece within the current Purist resistance. I thought he’d been born with a bullhorn in his mouth. I had no idea I put it there by killing his brother.

  Not that Jensen didn’t deserve Fate’s wrath.

  Fate protected the innocent. It was why he gave me the young Earth witch Charity’s fortune, and why he allowed me to warn her not to go near the boy in Twelve again or she would die. He tried to provide her with an opportunity to reclaim her life, but she chose not to listen and as a result, Jensen Renk strangled her. She died by his hand just as I warned her, just as Fate had warned me.

  “They say Edward is just a figurehead of sorts, a governor of their village,” Brecan noted.

  “He’s not,” Tauren gritted, looking at me. “I remember Edward Renk. I remember his rage, his seething disgust with the news of our hand-fasting and your coronation. He nearly instigated a riot Knox’s men had to drag him away.”

  “I haven’t forgotten, Tauren,” I told him, trying to keep my temper.

  Tauren paused to look at me and Brecan. “No one that full of hatred ever just simmers down and forgets his ire.”

  “Agreed,” Brecan replied simply.

  I’d only seen Tauren this worked up a few times, and Edward Renk was the cause of most of them. “Okay, so if Edward is still up to his old tricks, then what’s he planning?” I felt it was important to examine every possibility and not just the obvious ones. And if anyone had motives that weren’t blatantly obvious, it was Edward Renk. “Has Knox figured out who Judith is?” I asked.

  Tauren scrubbed a hand down his face. “There are no records of anyone named Judith being banished. She either changed her name or was born in The Wilds.”

  “She killed Omen’s mother, a witch, but raised Omen for a time,” I mused. “Omen said she always acted strange around her, and that she thought perhaps she felt guilty for taking her mother’s life.”

  “But River doesn’t agree,” Brecan said, pushing off the wall. “When she killed their mother, he said she felt justified, not guilt.”

  I nodded in agreement. “I think it’s safe to say that Mason is Ed
ward’s contact in the Kingdom, and most likely, he’s the one holding Lindey. The question is, who is the witch working with them?” Pausing a beat, I said, “I can find her.”

  Brecan and Tauren’s attention snapped to me. “No,” they replied in unison.

  “It’s the only way!” I warned. “Our time is running out.”

  Tauren’s brows furrowed. I ached to rub the wrinkle away and soothe the tension he carried. I had full confidence that I could handle the witch, finally teach Mason Renk who was Queen, and retrieve Lindey.

  He just had to unleash me.

  And if he wouldn’t, I would set myself free.

  Omen would go after Lindey. I could see the desperation in her eyes. It was the same look Jensen gave me before he took off running, thinking I wouldn’t be able to keep up. Thinking he could flee from Fate’s noose.

  Omen was determined to rescue the woman who raised her, and who could blame her for it? The problem with that was that River would chase after her. In an effort to save Omen, he would sacrifice his own safety. Because of what she meant to him, because of what she was to him.

  I admired and feared Omen for the same reason. She possessed certain traits that once were mine, and some that still were.

  “What do you mean, our time is running out?” my hand-fasted said slowly, as if he caught the meaning I intended but thought I’d hidden.

  “Omen will go after Lindey, and River will go with Omen. He’s in love with her and she’s in love with him, they just don’t know it yet. They were fated from birth.”

  Tauren walked to me. “Fated how?”

  “The destiny of the Fate-Kissed sisters was intertwined from their first breaths, but Omen and River’s destinies are one.”

  “Like ours became when you bound yourself to me?”

  I nodded, afraid my voice would crack.

  “If something happens to Omen…” he led.

  A tear fell from my eye. “If any of the Fate-Kissed die, the rest will weaken and become as brittle as bone drying in the sun. They would be easy to kill.”