The women began to fall into a single line behind Maerwynn, who led them up the winding paths out of the valley. Brunhild and I joined at the end, and I forced myself to leave my arms at my sides, instead of trying to cover myself. Clearly, witches didn’t share the same shame about nakedness as the church.
We walked briskly through a thick copse of trees. I noticed woman breaking away to run to their cabins, returning again with chests and candles and pouches in their arms.
We emerged onto a large meadow, surrounded on all sides by tall trees. In the centre, at the highest point of the hill, stood a circle of standing stones, at least forty feet in diameter. I gasped to see it – Aubrey had spoken to me once of these pagan meeting places, but I had never seen one for myself. In summer this place must have been beautiful, with wildflowers blooming in the thick grasses. Now, it appeared quite wild, with clumps of snow on the edges, where they had fallen from the trees.
The women entered in one line between two of the tallest stones and fanned out, so that we formed a smaller circle inside the stones. Women stepped forward to place their objects upon a low stone slab near the centre of the circle. The stone had a round hole gouged from one corner, and the stone was darker around that area. It looked very much like a bench the butcher used back in the village when he dressed a carcass and drained its blood.
“Stay beside me,” Brunhild whispered. “And just copy what I do. Remember, the most important thing isn’t that you say the correct words, it’s that your body and mind are pure and that you’re reaching out to the Goddess.”
I nodded, my eyes focused on Maerwynn. She stood at the centre of the circle, beside a stone altar that held several candles, a set of earthenware pots, and several animal bones. She raised her arms. All of a sudden, the women fell silent, as if someone had snuffed out all sound in the grove.
“You are all gathered here to witness this ritual and to lend your power to our plea,” she intoned. “Link arms and focus your mind on the earth below your feet, the sky above your head, and of linking the two together with a great cone of power. Focus on this power rising up from within each of us, encircling our sacred place, protecting us from harm.”
I linked hands with Brunhild and Ryia, and tried to picture in my mind a cone of power rising out from the ground and swirling all around us. I had no idea what power actually looked like, so I pictured it as a grey mist, curling up from the cold ground like the first warm breaths on a frigid winter’s morning. I glanced around the circle at the other woman, saw their faces were calm, focused. Many had their eyes closed. Maerwynn caught my gaze and glared at me. I stopped staring around and stared straight ahead, trying to hold the vision in my mind.
Aubrey stepped out from the circle. She carried a long-handled broom. She began to walk slowly in a widdershins direction around the outside, sweeping the ground in slow, deliberate circles. Maerwynn walked behind her, picking up handfuls of salt from an earthenware bowl and sprinkling these along the ground, just inside the standing stones. Another woman followed behind them, carrying four tall candles.
“Guardians of the North, of the power of Earth.” Maerwynn chanted, as she reached the opening point of the circle, and placed the bowl on the ground. She raised her hand to the heavens, and I saw she carried the short dagger carved with runes that she had used for our scrying ritual. “I ask that you bring your gifts of patience, endurance, stability, and prosperity to this circle. Guard our ritual, and protect our rites.”
Behind Maerwynn, the woman placed one of the candles on the ground, and lit it with the torch.
Maerwynn moved around to the next quarter of the circle, and stopped again, holding the knife aloft. “Guardians of the East, of the power of Air. I ask that you bring your gifts of wisdom, intellect, perception, and inspiration to this circle. Guard our ritual, and protect our rites.”
She repeated this sequence twice more, moving around a new quarter of the circle, and calling on the powers of South and West, of Fire and Water.
“The circle is cast, and the gods are here to witness our rites,” Maerwynn said, walking back to stand beside the altar. “Let us begin.”
Maerwynn looked at me and nodded. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do. Brunhild nudged me. “Go forward,” she whispered.
I stepped into the centre of the circle. As I did, I felt a strange sensation coming over me, my body tingled from head to toe with a new energy, a warmth that wasn’t like fire but more like the soft caress of sunshine on a summer’s eve. I closed my eyes, losing myself in the strange, warming glow. When I opened them again, I cried out, for there, before my eyes, was the mist I had pictured in my mind, curling out of the ground and circling slowly in widdershins, swirling around the women, even pushing its way through their skin, and entering their chests and backs.
Magic. It’s real. I shivered with excitement. The Goddess is listening.
I moved slowly through the shifting mist, and came to stand at the altar behind Maerwynn. Aubrey and Bernadine stood beside me, and we linked hands. Aubrey’s eyes were closed, and she appeared serene. Bernadine’s face was stony, as always, and she trained her gaze at the sky. I kept my eyes on Maerwynn, not wanting to focus on my aunts’ nakedness for any longer than required.
Maerwynn called Brunhild and Ryia forward, and the two bent over the altar, adding ingredients into one of the large earthenware bowls as Maerwynn called out their names and properties, asking the goddess to bless each one. Bergamot, hyssop, marigold, wild tarragon, sorrel, some with names I didn’t understand and leaves I didn’t recognize. All went into the bowl.
Brunhild added a splash of mead, and pounded the mixture with a pestle, mashing it into a pulp. When she was satisfied with the consistency, she handed the bowl to Maerwynn, who stood before my aunts and I. She dipped her fingers into the sweet-smelling paste, and swiped lines across our foreheads.
“Divine Goddess, these three women are your humble servants. For centuries their line has been plagued by a malicious curse, placed upon them by one who does not respect our ways, who wishes to take all of your power for himself. We come together today, to beseech you to come to our aid in breaking them free of this curse, that they may freely choose when, and who, to love again. Hear our plea!”
Maerwynn dropped the bowl to the ground, and she raised her arms to the air. She opened her mouth, and a strange sound rose up from within her. It wasn’t a chant, for there were no recognizable words or sounds. It was a strange, barking noise, like an animal trying to fend a stranger from its property. She fell to her knees, her head thrown back like a wolf howling at the moon.
Behind her, the other women in the coven began to sing, their voices melding together into a solemn choir. Their words were foreign to me, but seemed to be the same language Maerwynn had chanted during our scrying ritual.
The mists shifted, swirling faster and growing thicker, until we were surrounded by a milky white miasma. I could no longer make out the women in the circle, although I could still hear their strange ululations. Aunt Aubrey gripped my hand tighter.
“I’m scared,” I cried. The mist crept closer, swirling up into a cone over our heads, blocking out the grey sky above. All I could see with the faces of my aunts and the faint outline of Maerwynn’s body as she rasped out that awful noise.
“Whatever happens, don’t let go.” Aubrey called back.
The singing grew louder, Maerwynn’s shrieks and growls rose in intensity. The mist started to close in on us, pressing against my body. It felt icy cold. Beneath my feet, the ground shook. A roar rushed through the air, pounding my ears. It was as if the world itself were participating in the ritual.
I screamed as icy fingers slid over my naked skin, the touch so cold it burned me. My head pounded from the noise. I could no longer heard Maerwynn or the other woman, just the deep roar of the mist. I saw Bernadine’s lips moving as she yelled at me, but the mists tore her words away. Aubrey’s fingers dug into my skin as the ground beneath our feet bucked and
groaned. I pitched forward, falling through the white cloud.
“Hold on!” Bernadine yelled, the last words I heard before the roaring swallowed me up, and everything went black.
* * *
I awoke on the hard ground. My head throbbed. At first, I couldn’t remember where I was or why I was there, but then, in a rush, it came back to me. The ritual. The white mist. The roar in my head. What has happened?
My eyes fluttered open, and the scene around me confused me. The mist had gone, but the ground in the circle was no longer lush with long grass. Instead, it had turned black, as though it had been burned. The stones too, were coated with a layer of black soot. Women lay on the ground, moaning with pain as they struggled to their feet. I saw many clutching arms or legs or stomachs, blood leaking from between their fingers.
I tried to lift my head, but my body felt as if it were made of something heavy. Slowly, I tried to roll over, every movement causing waves of pain to crash through my body.
A figure rushed to my side, rough hands grabbing my aching skin. At first I couldn’t see her face, but slowly my eyes focused and Bernadine looked down at me. Her face was as white as a shroud. For the first time in my life, I realized she looked frightened. “Are you alright? Can you sit up?” she reached down a shaking hand to help me.
“I … I think so.” I managed to roll over on to my stomach, and crawled onto my knees. Every movement tore at my aching body. My ears rang.
I leaned against Bernadine and used her frail body to haul myself to my feet. Everything felt slow, difficult, as if I were swimming through a bowl of honey. With Bernadine’s help, I limped over to one of the stones, and used that to pull myself out of the circle. Here, there was still plenty of lush grass. I saw other women in the field, talking in small groups, their faces grave. Several were sobbing loudly.
“What … happened?” I gasped out, the mere act of speaking making me feel ill.
“The ritual was a failure.” Bernadine croaked, turning her head away. “I should have known this would happen. I should have discouraged Maerwynn, but I—”
I looked at her face, and for the first time saw her true feelings expressed there. Bernadine had hoped. She’d wanted the ritual to work so badly, to save Aubrey and I from the burden we carried. But now she blamed herself for what had happened.
But what had happened? I glanced back toward the circle. It was a charred ring of dead earth. The ringing in my ears had started to abate, and all around me I heard the women moaning and crying.
Still shaky on my feet, I hobbled over to where a large group of women had gathered. Some of them turned away, sobbing loudly. My chest tightening with fear, I pushed through the crowd, terrified of what I might find.
Brunhild lay on her back across the ground, the lower half of her body covered with the altar cloth – once white, but now streaked with black soot. Her neck was bent to the side, in an angle no neck should ever be bent. Her eyes were open, but unfocused. She didn’t move.
“No,” I whispered, my eyes filling with tears.
“When the cone broke down, she flew out of the circle and landed on one of the stones.” Ryia murmured, her voice choked with sobs. “I saw her fall …”
I bent down beside her, lifting one of her hands. Her skin was deathly cold. “Brunhild …” Tears streaked my cheeks. She was so young, and she’d had her whole life ahead of her. She was the only real friend I’d ever had. She gave her life trying to help rid me of a curse.
Maerwynn crouched beside Brunhild’s body, stroking her hair as she whispered under her breath. She turned to face me, her eyes growing cold as she recognized me. “Leave us.” she said, her words dripping with hatred.
“But, Brunhild...”
“I said, leave us!” Maerwynn screamed. Her voice cut across the silent hilltop. Her eyes flashed with wild anger. I dropped Brunhild’s limp hand, and backed away.
The women stepped aside as I inched away. I cast one last glance back at my poor friend. She didn’t move, her face ethereally pale against the lush grass.
Aunt Aubrey ran straight for me, and gathered me into her arms. I sobbed into her shoulder, for the first time in weeks grateful that she was here, that she still saw me as a little girl in need of protection. She walked me away from the huddle of witches, to the shelter of the oak trees on the edge of the hillside. Bernadine waited there for us.
“What happened to the ritual?” I sobbed. “Why is the circle all charred? How did Brunhild—”
“We don’t know exactly,” Aubrey said, stroking my hair. “I felt your hand slip from mine, just as the cone of power around us collapsed in on itself. There was this huge BANG, as though something had exploded, and I was thrown to the ground. Everyone must’ve been, and the power we’d been summoning and containing burst forth. It was too much energy all at once, the coven couldn’t hold it in. But even then, it wasn’t enough to break the curse.”
“It wasn’t?” My heart sank. Brunhild had died for nothing.
“Did you feel the ground rumbling beneath us? The way your skin grew cold? That was the curse, fighting back. It pushed out the power so that we wouldn’t be able to touch it. It’s a more powerful enchantment than even Bernadine and I realized.”
The curse cannot be broken this way,” Bernadine said softly. “We know this now. There’s only one way to rid ourselves of it, and that is to kill the descendent of the first witch who cursed us.”
* * *
Witches, I learned, did not bury their bodies as Christians did. Instead, we lit a fire beside the banks of the river, and built a small, sturdy boat from wood felled from the forest nearby. Into this boat we lifted the body of Brunhild, wrapped in a crisp, new white shroud. Maerwynn took a flaming branch from the fire and used it to set the shroud alight, and then Ryia and Catrain and I pushed the body away, so that it bobbed along the water as the river swept her from view. Women wailed as the light of her fire faded through the trees.
Brunhild was gone.
I didn’t cry during her funeral, but I shed many tears for Brunhild in the privacy of my own cabin. She had been my first real friend, the first person my age who had seen me for me, not as a vessel to get what she wanted. Now that she was gone, I realized how valuable that friendship was, and how I’d allowed rotten people like Rebekah to pollute my idea of what true friendship really was.
No one spoke of the ritual after that, but something had altered in Haven. Over the following days and weeks, it became clear that we were no longer welcomed as sisters. The women were still kind, but they kept their distance. They knew now the power of the curse that bound us, and it was almost as if they feared touching us and contracting the curse themselves.
Maerwynn spent most of her time inside her cabin, or walking in the woods around the valley. She did not speak to me again, nor even look in my direction if she could help it. It was as though she were trying to pretend I didn’t exist.
In my loneliness, my every thought was occupied with Ulrich. Where was he now? What was he doing? Had he found his father? The new moon couldn’t come fast enough. I hoped fervently that Maerwynn would still help me to scry for him. Surely she knew that knowing his whereabouts would benefit the coven, not just me? I was too afraid to ask her, so I just waited with impatience, and hoped.
I needed Maerwynn, for I couldn’t go to my aunts. I still hadn’t told them I’d been scrying with her, and I had a feeling that if they knew, they would be against it.
On the day of the new moon, I was a nervous wreck, wondering if Maerwynn would come for me to perform the ritual. In the morning I went hunting with Aubrey, Maerwynn and two other women. I missed two easy hits in a row, my arrows flying wide. Aubrey looked at me in concern, but Maerwynn glared at me, her eyes alight with barely-suppressed rage. I shrugged. “I think I am just having a bad day,”
As the hunt went on, I could feel Aubrey’s eyes on me. Trust her to know something was up.
The hunt returned with several hare for the evening me
al. The women set about gutting and dressing the carcasses, but Maerwynn waved me away impatiently. “With your mind wandering today you’re likely to slice your own hand off.” She snapped. I didn’t argue. Instead, I went down to the banks of the river, washing my feet in the icy water and thinking of Ulrich.
As the day turned into evening, my stomach knotted up in nervous excitement. I couldn’t wait to see him again. Please let Maerwynn remember her promise to me. I tried to act normal, but I jumped at every noise. I sat next to Aunt Bernadine by the fires, tapping my spoon against the edge of the bowl with increasing ferocity, and trying in vain to prevent my mind from wandering to Ulrich.
“Ada!”
I looked up. Something stung my cheek. I raised my hand to the spot where Aunt Bernadine had slapped me.
“What was that for?”
“I asked you a question,” Bernadine frowned. “Your mind is wandering tonight, girl. Fetch me a wine skin, I am thirsty.”
Usually I would apologize, but I was feeling bolder these days. It angered me that they had known about the ability to scry and not told me about it. “I am not your slave. Fetch it yourself.”
Aubrey and Bernadine exchanged one of their meaningful glances, and a thousand unspoken words passed between them. “Ada,” Aubrey started. “If there’s something you want to tell us, then you should feel—”
“There’s nothing.” I snapped. “I’m just sick of the two of you treating me like I’m some invalid who cannot look after herself.” I stood up and smoothed my tunic. “I am tired. I think I will go to bed.”
I wasn’t tired, of course. So instead, I tossed and turned, listening to the women at the fires below. After what felt like an age, the moon rose higher and the women began to wander back to their cabins, and Haven was plunged into silence. When Maerwynn came to find me, she found me already sitting up, undressed and waiting. Relief rushed my body when I saw her standing in the entrance of my cabin. She was still going to help me, after all.
Coven: a dark medieval paranormal romance (Witches of the Woods Book 2) Page 14
