Dark Winter: Trilogy

by Hennessy, John

  Toril, in her disarming, charming way, would then hug her mother tightly. She loved her dearly, but once she had revealed an interest in witchcraft, her mother tuned out, and dismissed her every request of anything she was interested in. She did not want her following that path. She wanted Toril to have nothing to do with the Circle.

  “Mum, it makes me happy to study witchcraft, and you used to practise it yourself, though you never told me why you quit.” Toril would protest. “You do want me to be happy don’t you?”

  Toril knew how it would work. Her mother would complain about Toril getting into too deep, too dark, too quick. Toril would assure her that it would be fine, and that she sometimes needed to study some darker elements of the craft so that she knew how to maximise the lighter ones. In her heart, Toril only ever wanted to use witchcraft for good. In her head, she sometimes fantasised about being a dark and powerful witch.

  That all changed after the encounter with Dana, whose knowledge of magic was indeed deep, and extremely dark. Most of all, Dana was cunning, and prepared to break the rules, or create new ones if it suited her.

  Toril still wanted to persist in a logical, careful, studious manner. She did not want to be anything like Dana.

  Sometimes, she and her mother would talk about the Circle, and the Book that contained the knowledge all Wiccans were supposed to know. When Toril asked her mother, “But if everyone knows all the same things, the same spells, the same potions, the same incantations…..how can any one person be designated the head of the Circle?”

  Her mother was dismissive of this question on each and every occasion that Toril raised it. Finally, out of sheer frustration with her daughter’s deductive reasoning and sharp questioning, said, “Of course there is one who is the head of the Circle. But I don’t know who that is, I don’t want to know who that is, and I don’t care who that is! All I do know is that I am glad I am out of the Circle.”

  Sometimes, Toril could hear her mother talking in her sleep, saying things like, No, not her, you can't have her, I’ll fight you with everything I’ve got.

  The words would end abruptly with Tori-Suzanne screaming herself awake, and Toril bursting into her bedroom to comfort her.

  “I’m here Mum, you don’t have to worry about that. No-one will take me away from you.”

  Tori-Suzanne looked sorrowfully at her daughter, wrapped an arm around her shoulder, and pulled her close. Kissing her forehead, she said, “I don’t know how they will take you, Toril, but one day, they will. Some mothers worry about the people their children will end up with. I worry about the devils you will end up with.”

  Toril would do her best to calm her mother down by hugging her back and not asking the questions that she wanted to. Jacinta had even bought her a tee shirt with Keep Calm and Practise Witchcraft written on it. Her mother failed to see the funny side of the joke.

  In any case, why would there be devils at the Circle, a place her mother had spent over half her life at, learning the craft? If they truly were devils, surely her mother would have practised dark craft as well, maybe go as far as even killing someone, or some thing?

  Would it be such a bad thing to know some of the dark craft, just in case something much more wicked needed to be defeated? How could such knowledge be a bad thing?

  Of course, Toril already knew the answer to her own question. In the hands of a bad person or entity, like Dana, for instance, such power would be wielded to cause the maximum harm. It was in this regard that Toril and her mother were in agreement.

  Neither wanted any part of dark craft.

  “You do understand I took you away from the Circle to protect you Toril. You do know that, don’t you?”

  Toril sucked both her lips in. Yes, she knew her mother would only do things to protect her, but now, things needed to be learned, lessons taught, spells explained. She could end up getting killed if she had to face one of those entities again.

  “I know, Mum, but the fact remains that for all my study, you know more than I do. One day you won’t be here, and I will no longer be under your protection. You do understand that I need to know, what you know.”

  Toril’s mother explained that she had passed all of her knowledge to her daughter, and any that remained could only be learned at the Circle.

  “You mean the dark craft,” said Toril.

  “Yes, the dark craft,” said her mother in a matter-of-fact way that Toril would later become well known for in her school.

  Tori-Suzanne learned the polar opposite of her daughter in one particular aspect. She had learned to block her thoughts from others, whereas Toril had developed the skill to read another person’s mind.

  As she stood in front of a very large book, which looked centuries old, Toril’s thoughts raced. Maybe this book can tell me how to un-block those minds who are disciplined, like my mother’s.

  “Go on, pick it up,” said Lunabelle. As Toril did so, her hands at first seemed to merge with the book, before the pages flipped by, blinding Toril at the pace. She did not feel like she was holding it anymore, but that it was levitating in front of her, before pulling itself free of her arms and hands, and settling back onto the desk.

  Dust was flying all over the place, making Toril splutter. Finally, it stopped, with the book lying open, some twenty or so pages from the end.

  “I thought it would want me to read from page one, you know, like a normal book.”

  “But you know this is not a normal book,” said Lunabelle knowingly, “and for you, that is page one.” She extended a finger towards the page on the left, which at first glance seemed full of strange diagrams and spells that Toril most definitely did not know or understand.

  Toril turned slowly on her heels to face Lunabelle. “I’m happy to be here, and I do want to learn some spells, but I won’t use dark craft. I don’t want to kill anyone.”

  “In that case,” said Lunabelle solemnly, “I can’t close the book for you, but I can ask you to step away. Maybe you are not the one the prophecies spoke of after all. Well. No matter, I have studied the prophecies all my life. It is only my years that have been wasted.”

  “That’s not what I mean, Lunabelle.”

  “But it is what I mean. You are either the one who is mentioned throughout the prophecies, or you are not. The fact that you found this place on your own, albeit against your mother’s wishes, speaks volumes to me. You have already fought some demons and survived. I believe entirely that you are The One.”

  “I would have no problem striking Dana down. I just need to know the method to do it.”

  “Toril, you must know that Dana is also a witch. She knows dark craft to a much higher level than you, and in any case…”

  Lunabelle stood silent for what seemed like an age, but it may have only been mere seconds.

  “Yes?” said Toril, almost impertinently.

  “I have said too much already. What you need to know is in the book.”

  Toril walked between Lunabelle and the exit into the hallway.

  “You were going to say something. Now, you have stabbed my hand and drawn blood from me. You are going to tell me what you were going to say.”

  Lunabelle smiled. “You think you can stop me leaving? I know that one of your best spells is the ability to port anywhere you like. I can do that too, and hide my whereabouts from you as well.”

  Toril stood aside. “Just tell me then.”

  “Alright.” Lunabelle could see that Toril had retained her mother’s feisty charm. “The strength of a true witch is not in striking down the demons who would want to harm her, but in striking down those who masquerade as your friends.”

  Toril went to speak but Lunabelle raised her hand. “Goodnight, Toril. Get a good night’s sleep.”

  The door closed silently and without effort behind Lunabelle, leaving Toril in virtual darkness, save for oil lamps that flickered with an ambient light.

  “Up, damn you,” said Toril, waving her hand from left to right. The flicker grew int
o a vibrant, strong flame.

  She read what she could of the book before sleep took her. A rough voice of Jamaican origin woke her from her slumber.

  “Eight o’clock, gal. Y’face bin in dat book all night? Damn, girl. We got practice.”

  Toril looked around at the man. She had seen him earlier the day before. He was the one saying ‘we good’ when confirming she was who she was supposed to be.

  “I suppose I should thank you, otherwise Lunabelle might have stabbed me in a more vulnerable place.”

  Denzel, for it was he, chortled through a toothy grin. “Yeah, be damn right. Lunabelle would stick you good too, be sure dat, if you ain’t be who you supposed be.”

  “I need to eat first, and I’ve probably forgot a lot of what I read last night.”

  “Too bad dat,” said Denzel. “Yam don’t get see dem a second time.”

  “What? What kind of book is this?”

  “The kind book you better know, gal. Eat and you be outside in five. Don’t mess wii’ me timin’, you got me?”

  “I….got you,” said Toril, not liking this man at all. Where the hell was Lunabelle? Toril detested this man. She didn’t believe there was anything he could teach her. Her senses detected something else. Ham, strawberries, toast, eggs. Turning around, she could see a vast array of food. It would take her several weeks to get through all of it.

  She munched down a croissant and made herself a very strong coffee. The banquet would have to wait for another day. She wanted her time over with Denzel as fast as possible so she could get back to the book, and read it properly.

  “You don’t get a second time to read it,” snorted Toril. “What a joke.”

  Stepping through the doorway, she was unsurprised to find Denzel there.

  “Follow me, gal,” he said.

  They went into a room. It was completely dark, and they stood in silence for a long time, before Toril could stand it no longer.”

  “You rushed my breakfast, told me what I read I would have to remember otherwise it’s no good, and now, you’re gone all silent on me. Why the dark room, huh? Are you trying to mess with my mind? These theatrics don’t scare me, Denzel. Next thing I know you’ll be holding a white cat and showing me your gold teeth.”

  “Is dat what you dink dis is?” said Denzel. “You in da test girl, now. Y’alreddy begun. An’ you failin’ big time, gal.”

  Toril marched towards Denzel, as she did so, he threw something towards her.

  “Catch.”

  She did catch the object – a trinket on a string.

  A Wiccan pentacle in her favourite colour. Purple. She could see it clearly because light filled the right when she held it in her hands. Denzel covered his eyes with one arm.

  “Damn girl, you musta really wannid da light. Tone down some.”

  Toril lowered the light level just by thinking it.

  “Is this mine? I mean, is it for me? This pentacle? My last one was given to me by my mother. It had sentimental value. What’s the value of this one?”

  “How ‘bout you life, you wid dat?” said Denzel.

  Toril smiled for the first time. The pentacle responded. She felt its great power. Truly, this could protect her from all manner of evil.

  “Oh,” smiled Denzel back. “You with dat. Yeah girl, you wid dat.”

  “You know, I thought you were a real a-hole, but I guess you’re okay,” said Toril.

  “Nah girl, I am y’asshole. Just your kind, that’s all. We good?”

  “Yeah, we good,” said Toril, her crisp accent staying incorruptibly English. “What now?”

  “What now is, you go see Lunabelle, that’s what now.”

  Toril stood rooted to the spot.

  “What is it, gal?”

  “You gave me a pentacle, so you must know I don’t have a wand, and I am going to need one.”

  “You dink I look like Father Crissmass to you? Go see Lunabelle, she give you a wand when you damn well ready for one.”

  Denzel had slid down the likeability scale once again, but Toril concluded he was right, and actually, she was relieved that it would be Lunabelle who would give her a wand. Toril’s fingers longed for one just like smokers who were trying to quit their cigarettes.

  Denzel stormed out. Toril supposed that even those who knew witchcraft could just lose it as easily as the non-magic folk. He slammed the door behind him, knowing full well that Toril would have to follow him outside at some point. She kept him waiting, not knowing for sure if he still was waiting for her. Considering that even in this huge place that it would be quite possible to find Lunabelle if she wanted to be found, Toril decided to stay put, purely to wind Denzel up.

  Maybe five minutes passed and Toril decided to leave her room. The pentacle chain snagged at her neck, and she adjusted it slightly. The more it stayed on her neck; the more it did not feel like her old pentacle at all.

  All the same, she resisted the urge to take it off. It certainly felt like it contained some power. She would just have to learn how to cultivate it.

  The first thing Toril noticed as she stepped out into the corridor was how different everything looked. Pictures were hung at different heights, the colours of the walls certainly seemed different, and the floor had changed from being a wooden one to a stone paving, surely more suited to being outside in a courtyard, rather than inside a house, even one as grand as this.

  There was a criss-cross diagonal pattern to the floor, and every sixth paving Toril noticed a pentagram was etched into the stonework. She skipped delicately over each one, but as she turned the corner, the corridor narrowed, and the ceiling lowered in height.

  She could barely see in front of her, and could hear the muffled sound of laughing, of a man, laughing at her plight.

  “Lunabelle, where are you?”

  There was no answer in the darkness. She pressed against the pentacle, and the faintest of light emitted from it.

  “Denzel, if that’s you, show yourself. Quit jerking me around.”

  Toril tried to sound like she was in control, but her nerves were beginning to get the better of her.

  “If this is part of a test, I’m not scared. Just thought I’d say that.”

  More sniggering in the dark. She could no longer make out the pentagrams on the floor, but she knew she could not walk on them. The non-magic folk had their cracked pavements; Wiccans had their pentagrams on the floor. Why would a place that practices magic have pentagrams on the floor, much less give the people walking around no chance to see them properly?

  A schoolboy prank, that’s all this is, thought Toril logically. I’m not going to be scared by this. Denzel can go and just ‘do one’.

  Toril could make out some shapes in front of her, but it was so black, so dark now, that she could no longer be certain of what she was seeing. She pressed the pentacle again, but to no avail. In fact, the light started to dim even further, before finally spluttering out.

  Toril decided that the pentacle was no good, and tried to remove it from her neck. As she fumbled with her fingers to find the clasp, she found that she could not bear to touch it, as it was unbearably hot. Every time her fingers went near the clasp, it was like a snake injecting venom into her

  .

  Doing all she could to stop her screams becoming a crescendo, Toril whimpered slightly, then scolded herself for doing so. She decided to stop walking directly in front and stood sideways, pressing her back against the wall.

  Okay, so the pentacle isn’t going to let me remove it, thought Toril. I did not, and I do not trust Denzel. This was just one of his tricks. As for Lunabelle, I’m not sure I want any wand she might provide. If I go back to my mum and beg her forgiveness, she’ll probably give me the wand I desire.

  Fingers caressed Toril’s cheeks and chin bone in the dark. She leaped from the side of the wall and tried to grab who or what had done that to her. Her breath became rapid as her blood pressure rose, and she still could not get the wretched pentacle off. Hadn’t she r
ead something about the wand choosing the owner, but the pentacle owning the wearer?

  Owning? What did that mean? Did it mean that if they weren’t compatible, it had the power to kill her?

  More sniggering in the dark. Then laughing. There was no mistaking it was a male voice.

  “Denzel, cut it out. I will kill you when I see you.”

  Toril didn’t like her emotions to get the better of her, but here, in the darkness of a place she did not know, wearing a pentacle around her neck which she could not remove, or use to good effect even if she wanted to, with someone laughing at her expense and yes – touching her…perhaps Toril could not be blamed for feeling so lost at this point.