by Mindy Klasky
David waited by the dock, standing guard over the Allen Cask. His tux was impeccable, and his sword gleamed in the light of the setting sun. This was the warder I had trusted with my entire magical being. This was the man who had followed me through the storm of our failed Lughnasadh working. This was the lover who had tried to protect me from his past, who had terrified me with his uncompromising search for justice.
This was my partner in all matters magical and mundane.
Holding my gaze without saying a word, David sank to one knee. He never took his eyes from me as he offered up the hilt of his weapon. His hands were steady, and his face was utterly calm.
I crossed to the dock and settled my hands over his. The power of his warder’s magic jolted against mine, surging into my physical body, stiffening my spine. Without having planned to, I lifted the golden chain from around my neck, capturing my amber pendant against the palm of my hand. When I brought it to my lips, it was warm, buzzing with an arcane force like the soul of a thunderstorm trapped inside its myriad of tiny bubbles.
David bowed his head, and I set the chain around his neck. The amber stood out against the pleats of his white shirt, blazing like a miniature sun. He closed his fist over its brilliance, brought the stone to his own lips, and sealed the new contract I had written between us.
He rose then, gliding to his feet with the grace of a panther. I followed his motion and turned back to face my students, their own warders, and their familiars. And that was when I realized we were not alone. Our ritual was no longer a private gathering of the Madison Academy.
Hecate’s Court had arrived.
There were four men and four women. Each was clad in cloth of gold—complicated robes for the men, with ornate sashes woven into intricate knots. The women wore shimmering gowns, as if they had stepped out of the pages of some medieval manuscript.
By all rights, they should have been overwhelmed by the heavy autumn air. They should have been assaulted by the heat and humidity, beaten down by the weight of their finery.
But the court members vibrated with hidden power, with a collective energy. I could sense it without trying, an invisible charge like lightning about to strike. It was as if the Court spoke some unknown arcane language—the equivalent of high church Latin or ancient Greek—while I was mired in some common tongue.
I took a step closer, trying to read the face of the nearest woman, to gauge her disposition toward the Madison Academy and me. But that was another trick of the Watchers’ magic—their features were obscured. The woman closest to me, and all her sisters, all four of the men. No matter how hard I tried to focus, no matter how closely I peered, I could not make out their eyes, their lips. I could not reduce them to humanity.
I fought to quench a shiver of fear. If I could not see the people who judged me, how could be sure I met their demands? How could I offer up the Cask, with its indictment of Norville Pitt?
My incipient panic was shattered by the sound of a throat being cleared. As if summoned by my thoughts, the Head Clerk of Hecate’s Court now stood upon the beach.
Apparently, he had missed the memo that Mabon was a major sabbat. His mud-colored trousers looked like he had slept in them for a week. His short-sleeve dress shirt was wrinkled, and his pocket protector had gone awry. One of his pens had left a dark blue stain on the approximate location of his left nipple.
Nevertheless, Pitt flicked his wrist with all the aplomb of a royal herald. A scroll manifested from the heavy air, and its parchment curls cascaded to the sand at his feet. Another twist, and his pudgy fingers were filled with an enormous quill pen. The feather trembled distractingly as he proclaimed, “We are gathered here to—”
Really? I wanted to shout. Are you really going to use the form of a wedding service?
Before I could recover, David stepped forward and raised his right hand, exclaiming, “Hold!”
He couldn’t speak a Word of Power as I had on the farmhouse porch so many months before; he was not a witch. But his single syllable had nearly the same effect as my Word had done. Pitt stopped his proclamation in mid-syllable. The eight Watchers seemed to lean closer, although not one had shifted on the sand.
I recognized my cue. “Noble ladies,” I said, making obeisance to the Watchers. “Noble lords. I know it is not customary for a magistrix to interrupt a grand proceeding such as this. But I beg your humble indulgence.”
My magicarium was taken off guard. Emma’s face was pinched, and Raven clutched her robe closer about her. Their warders and familiars shifted uncertainly. Neko scrambled to my side, and I sensed his unspoken questions, the pressure of his thoughts, even as he brushed my arm with an offer of power. I regretted surprising all of them this way, but I had not wanted any chance for them to give Pitt an unintended warning.
The Watchers seemed as surprised as my magicarium; it was forever before a woman’s voice proclaimed, “Proceed.”
I could not see who had spoken; the obscuring magic held. I continued to address all eight Watchers, speaking loudly enough for each to hear. “The Jane Madison Academy is indebted to the Court. We are grateful you saw fit to charter our operation, and we are eager to prove ourselves with our Major Working.”
The first Major Working ever required of a magicarium, I longed to add, but I dared not challenge the Court’s procedure. Instead, I raised one arm to indicate the Allen Cask, hoping my gesture conveyed sufficient grace and poise.
“Honored members, it is customary for a witch to offer up a gift to her Coven Mother upon first meeting. The Madison Academy stands before you today in something of the same position. We recognize your power over us, your authority to license us and bind us in Hecate’s name. And as a gesture of that respect, we offer to you the Allen Cask, and all the riches it contains.”
“What are you doing?” Pitt spluttered. His oily glance slipped from David to me and back again. “What do you think you can accomplish by delay—”
“Peace,” a Watcher interrupted. I could not be certain, but I thought this was a different woman than the one who had spoken before. Pitt choked off his words, but the fury in his bulging eyes was directed at David.
The Watchers seemed to conduct some silent conversation among themselves. I began to think I would have to continue. I would have to make some additional invitation. But the second Watcher said, “We will accept.”
Pitt fussed and muttered as the Court members crossed the beach to the dock. Their golden robes left no impression on the sand; there was no physical evidence of their presence at all. They arrayed themselves around the Cask, standing shoulder to shoulder, alternating men and women. The alabaster glinted, reflecting the brilliant cloth of their gowns.
I could not see the Watchers’ motions. Their hands remained obscured; their eyes stayed cloaked. But I felt their presence as they measured out the magical cloth I had used to wrap the Cask. They tested the knot I had tied. They picked out the eight strands I had woven, the double bonds of earth and air, fire and water. Together, they tugged on the arcane wrapping. As one, they twisted it. And in a flash of gold, they cut it free.
I blinked, and the Cask was open. David’s missive lay on top of the evidence, the parchment explaining all the contents of the box. I could sense the energy of those documents, the charged grommets and ribbons, the magically bonded ink.
And Norville Pitt felt it, too. “What are you doing?” he thundered. As he slipped across the sand, tumbling toward the Cask, he dropped the ornate scroll and his fancy quill pen. “Those are lies! Whatever they say, it’s a lie!”
David took a single step forward, leveling his sword across the edge of the dock. In a heartbeat, Caleb and Tony were there as well, weapons drawn, feet planted in the aggressive stance of warriors.
Pitt scrambled for some sort of magic, some warder’s power, but a golden flare froze him into place.
Unseen, the Watchers had moved again. Now, they were arrayed with their backs to the lake, standing in a semi-circle on the far side of the
Cask. David’s parchment glowed, as if it had been invested with some arcane force. I felt the power of eight pairs of eyes bearing down upon me.
“Speak, magistrix.” I thought that was the first woman. “Explain.”
I bowed my head. “These documents will speak for themselves, honored members. They’ll show a record of evil done by one sworn to serve you in all things. They’ll show greed, and lust for power, and disdain for fairness. They’ll show that the Head Clerk of Hecate’s court has been forsworn, and he has served himself first and foremost.”
“Slander!” Pitt shrieked. “Lies!”
But the documents that David and I had compiled had already grown stronger from their time in the Allen Cask. Their bonds were clearer, more obvious, even at a cursory glance. Although I stood at a distance, I could feel the connections between Charters and bank records, between binding contracts and petty receipts.
The Watchers’ silence grew heavier, thicker in a way that I now understood meant they were conferring among themselves. Like falling barometric pressure, their will pressed down upon us, and after I blinked, they were arrayed in a circle around the snarling Head Clerk.
“Norville Pitt.” This time it was a man who spoke, baritone and severe. “You will be bound over to the Court for the hearing of these charges at a date and place to be determined. You—
“You can’t believe them!” Pitt’s face had turned a burgundy that matched Emma’s gown.
The Watcher continued. “You will be be relieved—
“That warder has betrayed Hecate before!” Spittle flew from Pitt’s lips as he pointed at David. “He was stripped of his rank for six years!”
“You will be relieved of your duties immediately—
“He tried to frame me years ago! He forged documents! He’s the liar! Not me! Montrose is the man you want!”
“— and you will be confined to—
“It’s her fault!” His finger pointed at me like a broken rowan wand. “She’s only trying to delay her Working! That bitch is trying to distract you all!”
The flash of David’s sword was blinding. Caleb and Tony were only a heartbeat behind. All three weapons were leveled at Pitt’s throat, a handbreadth from severing his jugular.
“Stand down!” The shout came from another Watcher, a man with a bass rumble that shook the very beach.
David’s arm trembled. Pitt’s eyes grew large behind his glasses, and he caught his breath, half-snort, half-sob.
I started to reach for the link that bound me to David. I started to gather my will as his witch. I’d promised myself I would never wield that power again, but I needed to save him, needed to keep him from the Court’s boundless wrath. The bond was there—gleaming and bright.
But David stepped back before I could use it. He lowered his blade, pointing it toward the sand. He inclined his head, patently accepting the authority of the Court. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Caleb and Tony following suit.
Pitt collapsed to his knees. His fleshy hands clutched at the sand. His breath came in short gasps, and his entire body trembled.
The baritone Watcher continued. “You will be confined to a chamber at Hecate’s Court until such time as the Court shall hear this matter. So mote it be.”
Seven other voices joined in. “So mote it be!”
There was a crack of thunder, louder than any my witches and I had ever raised as we practiced our weather working. A flash of golden light blinded me. I blinked hard, twice.
When my vision finally cleared, I could see that the dock was empty. There was no sign of the Allen Cask. Norville Pitt was gone as well, leaving behind only the smeared imprint of hands and knees in the sand. The eight Watchers remained at the top of the beach, still shrouded in their secrecy.
David looked to the left, then to the right, before he took his position beside me. Caleb and Tony returned to their witches. Raven and Emma looked stunned, utterly overwhelmed by all they had witnessed. Their familiars crouched nearby, equally aghast. Neko leaned in, sending a tendril of concerned energy.
“Now, magistrix of the Jane Madison Academy,” a voice rang out, and I believed it was the first woman who had spoken. “You may begin your Major Working. Let all who bear witness judge you fairly and with mercy. In the name of Hecate, so mote it be!”
CHAPTER 18
MY HEART POUNDED. I longed for a break, for the opportunity to reassure my students. The Watchers had spoken, though. We had no choice but to begin.
I strode to the east and began the Mabon ritual for the first Major Working of the Madison Academy. The words were woven in the fabric of my heart. My body knew precisely how many steps to take. My fingers knew how to curl over the candle, how to summon the flame, how to greet the elementals of Air.
We all did our parts flawlessly. Emma summoned Fire. Raven shed her midnight robe and, skyclad, called on Water. Together, the three of us sealed the circle by drawing on the strength of Earth. Our familiars moved with us in our magic dance, catching our power, reflecting it back to us. I leaned most heavily on Neko, of course, but I did not hesitate to mix my strength, to pull from Hani and Kopek.
The warders followed along, tracing our magical circle with the fire of their swords. Watching Caleb and Tony, I felt honored and protected. Watching David, I felt cherished.
We worked quickly, building the basic framework of our ritual. We Protected the Innocent, confining our working to spare all unsuspecting creatures, human and animal both. We Prepared the Earth, priming the land beneath our dome.
But this was the real Major Working, the actual ritual and not one of our endless preparatory studies. And so we expanded the Preparation beyond the etheric half-sphere of our warders. Carefully, in perfect balance, we stretched our powers to include the lake we had sworn to repair.
Only after we’d set our boundaries—stretched to include floating mats of duckweed, dead and blasted trees, the four dry streams that had once flowed with water—I strode to the massive woven basket in the center of our circle. It was time to activate our eastern quadrant, to harness the power of Air.
We started with a fist-size chunk of coral. Its orange-red arms branched like a tree, gaining strength from the empty space that vibrated between the stretches of its solid substance. Coral was a classic protectant, a charm against evil. But most importantly for our purposes, coral was a bond against natural disasters, against storms that rose with too much power.
With Raven’s help, I twined angelica flowers around its branches. The herb was highly protective, guarding against evil. It was particularly effective at the beginning of a ritual, when its awesome strength could spread over an entire working.
When we were satisfied with the twist of white flowers around vermilion coral, Raven and I stepped back. In unison, we reached for Emma, ready to bring her into the circle of our magic.
Our powers merged—violet, gold, silver. Our hands hovered over the coral and angelica. The space between our palms shimmered, and the outlines of our fingers blurred. Together, we lifted a carefully selected rune, one of the jade plaques that I counted among my most valuable magical possessions. Eihwaz. The yew tree. The rune resonated with strength, with defense and protection.
We planted the plaque at the root of the coral, taking care to lean it against several fronds of angelica. Once all three of us were satisfied with the jade’s placement, we chanted:
“Powers of the East, of Air,
Share with us your gifts so fair,
Wisdom, thought, perception shine,
Inspire us to be divine.”
Our familiars fed the energy of our spell among themselves, bouncing it within the confines of our circle. I knew the moment the warders felt the power we raised—Caleb took a step back, and Tony pinned Raven with a fiercely protective glare. David was facing away from us, scanning the perimeter of the beach for any danger that approached by land. I could sense his attention, though, his raptor-sharp awareness of all that we were doing. The warder-witch bo
nd between us tightened, and the tug on my belly stopped just short of pain.
The spell worked. Air rose in response to our summons. Not a whirlwind, nothing as dangerous as that. Nothing like the storm we had unleashed on Lughnasadh. Rather, a solid breeze rippled from the eastern quadrant of our circle, drying away some of the omnipresent humidity, carrying the fresh scent of pine trees on an autumn night.
Of course, the raising cost us strength. My muscles felt ropy and stretched, as if I had completed an entire day of yoga. I knew immediately that this ritual was demanding more than any other we had practiced. That was the cost of bringing in all the lake, all the territory we sought to heal.
The expense was worth it, though. We were forging a new type of magic, a new bond between the disparate parts of our working. Stone, herb, and rune together; we were re-classifying magic, making it something new, something unique to the Madison Academy.
Proud of our success, I led my students to the southern point of our circle. I’d chosen garnet for the Fire quadrant. The blood red crystal enhanced strength and endurance, offering up healing energy.
My prize stone was the size of a pigeon egg. Its facets caught the sparkle of the magic arrayed around it, fracturing the light, sending it back upon us a thousand fold. We teamed garnet with lovage, nestling the stone in the bright green of the plant’s sharp-toothed leaves. Uruz was the rune for the southern point—a canted house sketched with three simple lines. Uruz was the symbol of strength.
As one, we chanted over our trio of symbols:
“Powers of the South, of Fire,
Wrap us in your magic gyre,
Energy and strength of will,
Passion with our hearts do fill.”
Fire gathered around us—the dangerous flicker of electricity. The charge crackled against the silk of my gown.
