Ula (Born of Shadows Book 1)

by J. R. Erickson

  “She’s a bit of a show off,” Max told her with a pleased smile that he unsuccessfully tried to muffle.

  “I’m sorry I interrupted your lesson,” Abby told him guiltily, brushing a stray hair behind her ear, an old habit, that didn’t exactly work since she’d chopped her hair off.

  Their room for lessons felt damp, musty. Cold rivulets snaked through the air and made Abby shiver.

  “Hardly a lesson this evening, my dear.” He gave her a warm, fatherly smile. “Cold?”

  She tried to shake her head no, but nodded instead.

  “Here.” He cast his hands towards her, like Zeus sending a lightning bolt, and a wave of warm air washed over her. She expected it to vanish, get sucked into the stone walls like a sponge made of rock, but it hovered, raising the temperature where she stood.

  “We’re so used to it down here, I don’t even notice.”

  “How did you do that?” Abby asked eagerly.

  “Starting to get used to the idea, eh?” Max asked, his eyes twinkling. “Well, let me show you a bit.”

  He walked over to her, slipping his brown corduroy coat off and slinging it over the back of a chair. He flexed his fingers a few times and bent his arms in a bicep curl. He stopped next to her, standing shoulder to shoulder.

  “First, Abby, my element is air, and therefore I have a much easier time manipulating it. That means wind, tornadoes, temperature, even clouds.”

  “Clouds?” she whispered, imagining a rolling cloud shaped like a dragon as it chased screaming beach-goers along a shoreline.

  “Yes. Now you are a water element and will find that when you direct your energy, water is what changes. That means rain, lakes, oceans, streams, ground water, even ice cubes. Not to say that you cannot influence other elements, but it takes many years of practice and focus. The stone slab here,” he explained, pointing at the small island of stone sitting peculiarly in the room, “pulls and focuses your energy. That is why we train with it. In a sense, it forces your power out, even if you yourself are not focused on the task at hand.” He glanced at Lydie and she smirked, feigning interest in her fingernails.

  Before Abby could respond, he shot his hands out, as if pushing an invisible ball towards Lydie. The air around her swirled, causing her hair to fly and twist and her skirt to whoosh up around her head. The mini cyclone lasted only seconds, but left Lydie sputtering and forcing her skirt back around her legs.

  “Max,” she whined, but with a challenging gleam in her eye.

  “Don’t even think about it,” he told her shortly. “That was simply an example for Abby’s sake.”

  Abby laughed and shook her head in amazement. She wanted to do that.

  “Could I do that here?” she asked.

  “Not just yet,” he told her, slipping back into his coat. “You have not exercised your power enough for that type of activity; however, you could have a go in the chair.”

  “A go?” she asked meekly, staring at the chair as if the back might open to reveal saliva-dripping fangs.

  “Yes. You see this place helps draw the energy of your astral body specifically. When you sit in one of those chairs and focus your internal power you can access your non-physical self.”

  “Where would I go?” she asked, conflicted by her desire to seize the newfound power and yet frightened by its potential.

  “Go along for the ride, Abby.” Lydie stretched a comical grin over her face and twirled around the slab.

  “You might not go anywhere, well, your astral body, that is. Your physical body will remain right here with us, safe. Your astral body could go any number of places. Some witches can travel in their element. You may visit the cave of elders or other meeting places. You may even travel through other elements: air, earth, fire, there is no way to know, right now, where you could go.”

  “The cave of elders?” Abby asked.

  “Yes, it is a cave where many of our elders congregate.”

  “Is it dangerous?” Abby asked, ignoring the sneer that passed over Lydie’s girlish features.

  “Not here,” Max appeased her. “But it can be very dangerous for a witch to leave her physical body in the open. If an enemy were to stumble upon it, you would be virtually defenseless.”

  It frightened her, the uncertainty of it, but appealed to her as well.

  “Okay,” she gave in, taking a tentative step towards the slab. As she stepped up, she felt an instant shock of energy, like she’d placed her finger on a low wattage live wire.

  “Go on,” Max encouraged, the fine wrinkles around his mouth pressing together when he smiled. Lydie stood perfectly still, watching with the glassy, blue eyes of a porcelain doll.

  Abby took a seat, running her hand along the smooth velvet, like green moss on the forest floor. She looked to Max for guidance, having only experienced her astral body in what she thought of as a dream state. She had never self-induced it.

  “Just close your eyes and relax. If it’s going to happen, it will come naturally. If not, do not fret, this just isn’t the right time,” Max directed her in a calm voice.

  She pressed her head against the seat, silently telling herself to relax – no needles, this was virtually painless. She felt the soft, slightly prickly texture of the velvet through her hair, and then as if the chair back had dissipated behind her, she felt herself falling back, out of the chair and down through the floor.

  Her body stopped its lightning free fall and she felt hard ground beneath her. She opened her eyes slowly, seeking clarity through the dim fog that materialized into a dark tunnel. Somehow the familiar craggy walls did not come as a surprise, instead she welcomed them, understanding that she had done it. She was moving in her astral body. Her physical self was back in the dungeon with Max and Lydie, but she had returned to the cave.

  She reached a hand toward the wall, but could not feel the cold stone or the algae-like mud that clung to it. She moved deeper into the cave, twisting in circles as she had that very first time. She came again to the three tunnels.

  She believed that witches met in the far off cavern to her right, but something drew her towards the middle tunnel, she felt the power surge inside of her and the need for familiarity melted away. She had to discover what lay in the center tunnel.

  As she advanced, the tunnel sloped down and severely left. It grew wide and then narrowed as if teasing the traveler who dared roam its depths. The cave grew wider and the ceiling, before only inches above her head, steadily rose, two feet, five feet, ten feet and then more. It gave way to a spacious grotto. She could see light and then an underground lake at the back of the cavernous space. It glowed a brilliant sapphire blue. Above the lake, a small hole let in a beam of moonlight and a dazzling waterfall cascaded into the lake. The water fell in a wide spray of tiny mirrors, splashing into the water and spinning away.

  The lake drew her, grasping her arms with invisible hands and pulling her forward. She began willingly, but as she neared the gossamer pool, delicate like layers of ice-blue chiffon, she felt a fine terror sweep down her spine. It bit with razor sharp teeth; it shrieked that she should not take a step closer, but even as she attempted to slam her feet onto the stone floor, the invisible fingers sank into her flesh and dragged her on. She came to the pool and then was thrust over the small rock edge. For a second she tipped, like a porcelain vase rocking on a table’s edge, and then she fell. Her arms splayed out, but no painful smack of water on skin occurred; instead she just drifted into the shiny water, like a balloon floating from a building top.

  She wafted down, her eyes wide and searching. Around her, tall, coarse stalagmites jutted skyward, their tips pointed and menacing. The water felt like nothing, as if she floated in space, an underwater astronaut. The sinking did not frighten her because she understood that she was safe, that her body sat in the castle’s dungeon and that whatever hid in the lake’s glistening depths could not harm her.

  Slipping deeper, she saw someone else, another person in the water. But as she reache
d for the form, the person shifted, drifted to face her. Abby opened her mouth in a silent shriek as the body of her Aunt Sydney floated inches from her face. Sydney’s bright blue eyes bulged at her, passed through her – her red mouth was twisted in a hideous smile, a final smirk at death. Abby reached out, but her hand could not grasp the familiar shape, a pale pink sun dress billowing around it, blond hair floating in the gem colored water. The waxy skin stretched over the bloated organs left Sydney’s beautiful body a distended bag of slippery flesh. Her corpse refused to stop and slid by with ease, as if trying to say, “Gotta run – I’m late for a date.”

  Abby continued her silent scream, spiraling up, away from the body, toward the surface.

  She burst from the water, but instead sprang out of the green velvet chair and flung herself across the long stone room, slamming hard into the opposite wall.

  Distantly, she heard Max’s yells and Lydie’s screams of fear. The stone floor felt cold, but her eyelids were heavy, she couldn’t open them, and then the room was gone and she drifted down

  Chapter 22

  What had once been an oratory (place of worship) in the castle had long ago been transformed into a special meeting place for the coven. Here the witches gathered to create the Magic Circle, an especially useful ritual that drew each of their individual energies into a single extraordinary sphere of power. The room’s ceiling was a maze of red brick arches shaped oddly like a starfish. From the center of the starfish drooped a heavy iron chandelier twisted into a crooked spiral with hundreds of candles dotting its warped frame. The center of the Magic Circle lay directly beneath it, marked by a single X, denoting the runic symbol for sacrifice and generosity, which was coarsely etched into the stone floor. The outer circle was a smooth fissure, approximately one foot deep, that ran the circumference of the circle, and when the Magic Circle was called, involved each of the four elements: air, water, earth and fire. Three of the room's four walls revealed curved stained glass windows set deep into the stone, their bright images set afire during the noonday sun.

  Helena found Elda sitting quietly in the room, a Book of Shadows open on the table before her.

  “Elda,” she sighed, brushing into the room, her silver bracelets jingling on her wrists. “Something strange has happened.”

  Elda smiled and leaned back in her chair, stretching her legs out and rubbing the tips of her fingers into her tired eyes. She closed Ula’s Book of Shadows, satisfied that she had updated Bridget’s most recent plant creations.

  Helena pulled out a chair and sat down, resting her hands squarely in her lap.

  “I witnessed something tonight that I believe deserves our attention,” Helena continued, absently fingering the corner of the heavy book that Elda had closed.

  In one corner of the room, shelves were built into the stone wall, each piled with books and ritual tools.

  “What is it, Helena?” Elda asked with a yawn.

  “First, tell me if Faustine has reached Oliver?” Helena asked.

  Elda shook her head slowly and then spoke. “No, however, he feels certain that the raven does not belong to Oliver. He can still feel him.”

  Helena nodded, relieved.

  “It’s about Abby…” Helena began, staring intently into Elda’s glossy pupils, like tiny mirrors in the candlelight. “I believe that she controls Sebastian.”

  Elda looked at her quizzically. “Well, of course, Helena, it’s obvious that they are extremely attached, so it’s only logical that he would act in accordance with her.”

  “No,” Helena waved her hand dismissively. “That is not what I mean. I believe that I witnessed her thoughts activating a physical response in him. Elda, he ripped the arm off the walnut Victorian chair.”

  Elda shifted uncomfortably, pursing her lips. “He ripped it off? Was he angry?”

  “No, that is what I am trying to explain to you,” Helena said perching on the edge of the desk. “He and I were simply discussing Faustine’s telepathy, it was a very controlled conversation, but Abby, well, she was sort of staring off, thinking about something else, obviously. I noticed her frown and then, out of nowhere, Sebastian ripped the arm off the chair.”

  Elda took in a long breath and stood. She walked along the outer perimeter of the Magic Circle, staring at the small cones of flame dancing on the chandelier.

  “Elda, it’s like…” but Helena did not finish. The door burst open and Lydie rushed in, her pink cheeks streaked with tears.

  “It’s Abby, come quick, she’s been hurt,” Lydie wailed.

  Helena jumped from her chair and the three of them ran from the room, leaving the circle abandoned behind them.

  * * * *

  Abby came to slowly, swimming up from the depths of her dreams. She smelled currents of lavender and rose, which spun above her, a silken spider web wrapping her tightly in place. She focused on her eyes, on the doughy lids that lay like anvils on the soft flesh of her cheeks. Swollen? Maybe, but she didn't think so. Somewhere hushed whispers drifted towards her, but they merged and disappeared beneath the sounds of trickling water and something else, a vibration.

  With great effort, her eyelids lifted and she stared at a glass dome ceiling high above her. Thick gold beams curved up the glass, interfacing at a single gold hand. Turning her head, she saw sheer white drapes, the fabric, a hybrid of mosquito net and silk. She reached a hand out, wincing as if she anticipated horrible pain, but felt nothing, only a cool numbness that started at the tips of her toes and traveled up to the crown of her skull. Brushing her hands over the drapes, which she only barely reached, she realized that her fingers were wrapped in moist linen cloths. Her entire body was wrapped in the cloth, and as she blinked she felt her eyelashes brush the fabric that covered her face.

  "Oh," she cried out as a chamber opened in her mind and Sydney's face came swirling back to the surface.

  Before she could make another noise, footsteps pounded across the room and the shroud was ripped back. Sebastian stood before her, his face eroded with worry.

  "Abby." He leaned close, but did not touch her.

  Elda, Max and Helena huddled behind him, watching her closely.

  "I was in the cave…" she started, but Elda hushed her.

  "Abby, you've been injured very badly. I know that you feel okay right now and you are healing rapidly, but the process is not complete. You cannot strain yourself at this time." Elda's words were final, a command, and Sebastian nodded vigorously that she must comply.

  Helena walked around the long bed, pulling the drapes away. Abby appeared to be in an infirmary, but like none she had ever seen. The room was round, the walls directly opposite her were glass, and she could see panoramic views of the lake beyond a stone terrace. The walls were made of thick, sandy bricks, but ended abruptly at the glass dome above. At the foot of her bed stood a long wooden altar with candles flickering from its hollowed center. To her left, she could see more beds, like massage tables draped in thick cream coverlets. To her right, freshly oiled wood floors ended at a rim of red bricks, which outlined a colossal circular tub filled with water. Sunflower sized candles floated on the glassy surface. Around the room candles flickered, illuminating a long workstation with neatly organized glass bottles, vials, and nylon bags of crushed flowers and herbs.

  She licked her lips, which felt sandpaper dry, and tasted blood.

  Helena passed a long glass bottle with a straw to Sebastian, and he held it to her lips. She sucked eagerly, feeling a burst of pain in her raw throat and then soothing coolness. It tasted like water and something else, flowers or perfume, but so faint that she barely detected it.

  "It will help you heal," Elda told her sternly as if she might spit it out.

  Abby only nodded, finishing the drink and sighing back against the bed. She could feel the elixir reach her stomach and spread with a warming intensity. Her limbs grew heavy, and her eyes started to droop closed. She turned to Sebastian and began to mouth Sydney's name, but already she was gone, drifting b
ack to her dreams.

  * * * *

  She slept a drugged sleep. Phasing in and out of consciousness, never entirely aware of reality or fantasy. She saw Sydney on the end of her dock, blond hair billowing, a delicate hand giving Abby the Miss America wave. Sydney melted into Vesta, who pointed at her with malicious glee. In the infirmary, Sebastian’s face moved in and out of view, replaced by Max, Helena, Dafne, Tobias, Sydney and the moon. Sometimes her body felt heavy, like bags of wet sand, and other times she was as light as a dandelion blown into the night sky.

  She came to, fully and lucidly. Sebastian snored beside her on a vacant bed, a tangle of hair drifting above his open mouth, the tendril gusting out with each puff. She wanted to crawl onto his bed and lay her head against the rise and fall of his chest.

  She rubbed her fingers together, expecting to feel the linen bandages, but her hands were bare. Lifting her head onto her chest, she scanned her body. No more bandages, just a thin sheet tucked to her waist. She wore a pink, silky robe, probably another of Dafne's. Hopefully, she hadn't bled on it.

  The vision of Sydney sat in her mind, a boulder lying heavily on every thought. The tears came then, slowly at first and then harder, until snot ran from her nose and she couldn't bite back the hiccupping sobs.

  Sebastian woke and came to her, his hands warmly rubbing her arms.

  "Hey, it's okay, you're okay," he whispered as she cried harder, her whole body joining the event.

  When she could manage her breath, she whispered Sydney's name. His eyebrows lifted in confusion, but he waited for her to speak.

  "Syd…Sydney's dead." She let it out with another low wail that brought Elda into the room, looking wide-awake despite the early morning hour.

  "Are you sure?" he asked.

  She nodded and shook jerkily, her cries like hands rocking her back and forth. He leaned onto the bed and pulled her to his chest where she quickly soaked his gray t-shirt with tears.