by Nat Burns
The Wittering Way
Copyright © 2016 by Nat Burns
Acknowledgments
Dedication
The Witta Clan
Part One
Book 1
Book 2
Book 3
Book 4
Book 5
Book 6
Book 7
Book 8
Book 9
Book 10
Book 11
Book 12
Book 13
Book 14
Book 15
Book 16
Book 17
Book 18
Book 19
Book 20
Book 21
Book 22
Book 23
Book 24
Book 25
Book 26
Book 27
Other Titles from Nat Burns
About the Author
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The Wittering Way
by
Nat Burns
Mystic Books
by Regal Crest
Tennessee
Copyright © 2016 by Nat Burns
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. The characters, incidents and dialogue herein are fictional and any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Print ISBN 978-1-61929-286-4
eBook ISBN 978-1-61929-287-1
First Printing 2016
9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Cover design by Acorn Graphics
Published by:
Regal Crest Enterprises, LLC
1042 Mount Lebanon Rd
Maryville, TN 37804
Find us on the World Wide Web at http://www.regalcrest.biz
Published in the United States of America
Acknowledgments
Many thanks to the beta-readers who helped me decide if the world I’ve built is clear or unclear, believable or too fantastic. You know who you are. And to Cathy, at Regal Crest. Thank you for being persistent. This book was one that needed to be written. Patty, you’re a brave soul. Love you much!
Dedication
My dedication goes out to Chris who spent so many hours either reading this work or listening to endless confusing litanies about the characters. You rock, sweetheart!
I’d also like to dedicate this book to the women of my family—mother, grandmother and aunt—who brought me up in the way of magic and shared with me their world filled with enchanted creatures from the Isle of Éire.
The Witta Clan
Widdershin Join
DaisyFir—Irine (Female)
Paria—Fede (F)
Cleome—Afton (Male)
Avapeony—Kes (F)
Straw Join
MayApple—Ninne (F)
Craghn—Arthfael (M)
Yewsy—Brennen (M)
Pine—Cin (M)
Mint—Freyan (F)
Thorn Join
Olive—Lomhr (M)
RoseII—Cathal (M)
Villia—Thaid (F)
RoseIII—Byrne (F)
Hippa—Ashe (F)
Choya—Uilie (M)
Pear—Lews (F)
Song Join
Aria—Niadh (F)
Capel—Walsh (M)
Lyric—Beara (F)
Mel—Phaid (M)
Adagio—Robin (F)
Lore Join
Holly—Grace (F)
Talew—Finner (F)
Rhyme—Them (M)
Memo—Higen (M)
Elder—Caft (F)
Basil Join
Airgialla—Quest (M)
Pedro—Clery (F)
Lemon—Maol (F)
Saffron—Gewwt (F)
Stem—Kahan (M)
Purp—Hando (M)
The Brinc Clan
Ray Join
Morn—Wood (F)
Ronat—Purth (F)
Signe—Lorne (M)
Blass—Jiff (M)
Cathe—Tupe (F)
Sentr—Mays (M)
Prosee Join
Dot—Carlae (M)
Proet—Anta (M)
Signal—Holin (F)
Ste—Colle (F)
Resin Join
Ambley—Thoom (F)
Carh—Steel (M)
Effie—Lister (F)
Kitri—Span (F)
Givan Join
Isten—Comlie (M)
Stub—Ban (F)
Martry—Saml (M)
Locre—Afran (M)
Outlie Join
Ani—Oombs (M)
Darrin—Turl (F)
Mon-twin—Aidd (F)
Noor-twin—Ild (F)
Peak—Sheer (M)
Frant—Ura (M)
Imi-twin—Doud (F)
Ami-twin—Dowd (F)
Sky Join
Lasse—Kaely (F)
Kent—Hou (F)
Jeren—Silhu (M)
Ceru—Disten (F)
Filem—Beer (M)
Part One
Book One
DUST MOTES, STIRRED by my silent, frantic movements, rose up and choked me. I stifled a welling cough and continued my protection work. I drew beautiful, flower-like designs, ovals of protection becoming fragile petals at the touch of my nubby lump of charcoal. Focusing on each thick stroke, I lost myself in the working. If I drew my attention away, listened to what was going on in the rooms above me, sanity would elude me. So I focused on my silent vigil, sending positive energy to my parents as I repeatedly mouthed a soothing working.
Air moves
Fire transforms
Water shapes
Earth heals
I began a new row of protective runes just as my sister, Avapeony’s, face appeared in my mind’s eye. As a sensitive, I realized new alarm, knowing that she had to be somewhere nearby. I paused, one finger uplifted as if an antenna to capture this new information. She had been away, at Lore join with her birth friend, Memo. Had she returned?
Abrupt silence descended. I glanced upward, indecision gnawing a hole in my gut as my fammie, my birth familiar, Afton, snuggled close to my neck in reassurance. The silence grew, extended.
My mother had shoved me into the cellar when the Brinc clansmen approached, entreating me to silence and invisibility, no matter what I heard. She’d kissed me gently before lowering the hatch, whispering for me to protect myself. In my mind, I envisioned her opening the hatch. I could feel the fresh air rush in, bringing her lemony scent to me. I closed my eyes, bidding reality to my will. To no avail. The hatch did not open and the eerie silence persisted.
“Go see,” I said to Afton.
He pulled away and whirled nervously, his color yellowing. He wrapped a cloud-like tendril around my arm, connecting. “I hear the cries of my brethren,” he said into my thoughts. “I do not go.”
“No,” I whispered, shaking my head in negation. “Not Irine?”
Afton renewed the link. “And Fede.”
“No. No, no, no,” I chanted aloud as I pushed against the hatch. Mother had thrown the bolt and it was still locked. I suddenly feared that she would never pull it back, that no one would ever discover me there and I would die with no join, my failing Fammie fluttering down to cover my face, unable to properly return me home to Lake Feidlimed.
“Calm,” Afton beseeched, his tendrils stroking my bare arm. “Need calm.”
I ignored him and continued to push against the wooden hatch. Old dirt shook loose and peppered my face. My weak arms were ineffective so I turned a shoulder and shoved hard against the thick, planked
wood. It would not move.
“Mother Tree, let me free,” I invoked quietly.
Afton backed away, so as not to interfere with the magic. I made the insignia of the tree with both hands to enhance the working.
“Mother Tree, let me free,” I invoked again as I felt the wood soften beneath my forearm. Thrice would do it, so I took a deep breath and bunched my leg muscles.
“Mother Tree, let me free. Blessed be,” I said forcefully.
The grain of the wood above me loosened as the molecules separated. I pushed upward with steady force, and the bolt slid away from the planks, allowing me to lift the hatch. I inhaled a deep breath and coughed immediately. Smoke. Afton spread his foggy form and wrapped across my mouth and nose, filtering the air so I could breathe shallowly.
Why was there smoke? I turned slowly and saw that Mother’s workbench was scorched and still smoldering, burning herbs scattered across the table and onto the floor. I glanced toward the door of our small, cozy cottage. It stood open, hanging forlornly from one leather hinge.
I moaned and Afton tightened his hold for comfort. What catastrophe had befallen the Widdershin join? I knew the Brinc clan, often led by Signe of Ray join, had increased their hateful attacks on the Morri and the Witta clans, but to do this? To attack another join in such an overt way? I shook my head.
“Irine calls to you,” Afton said.
I pulled myself from the cellar opening and staggered through the common room. “Mother?” I moved toward the sleeping cells, willing her to be there. “Father?” Hope was slim but it was all I had.
The cells were empty, the beds upended, the coverings torn and scattered. I sobbed, feeling Afton tighten in a new attempt at comfort.
“No!” I exclaimed, pulling him from my face. He spiraled next to my head, his color kaleidoscoping in helplessness. How could he comfort me? My happy life had been invaded, sullied.
I crept through the main room and toward the front door, unsure and cautious. “Mother? Irine? Ava?” I paused at the door. “Do you hear Fede now, Afton?”
Afton connected with a slender tendril. “She weeps outside.”
I nodded, unable to speak. Tears swelled my eyes. If Fede wept, then Father’s light had been extinguished. How could this be? We are not a violent people, living our lives in peace and only passing back to Lake Feidlimed after many centuries of joyful life.
I paused at the door and took a deep breath of the fragrant forest air, letting it fortify me. Yet nothing could help me deal with the sight of my parents’ bodies. My father, Paria, had fought until the end, evidenced by the glowing dagger near his outstretched hand. Strange, black burns dotted his skin. He had fallen in the courtyard and now lay sprawled and vulnerable, in a way I never would have expected to see him. His fammie, Fede, hovered above his chest, awaiting my farewell.
My mother, DaisyFir, had fought as well, with her own powerful magic, and her hands still glowed orange from the power she’d shed. Her body had gentled down onto the steps leading up to our cottage, her morning robes swirled gracefully around her legs and hips. She, too, had black burn marks on her neck and arms. Her long, dark hair had fallen across her beautiful face, as though she hid her eyes from witnessing the tragedy around her.
Her fammie, Irine, swelled to twice her size, and her normally rosy form deepened to the gray of mourning. I stretched out an arm and she came to me. She touched Afton, and I could feel their combined pain even before he connected with me. When he did connect, grief seared through me and I felt my heart stop for a brief moment. Tears cascaded along my cheeks and I could not breathe. The fammies moved away and I bent forward, trying to incorporate the loss. I had to absorb and accept or I could not move onward with my life.
A quiet rustle drew my attention.
“Cleome? You’re here.” MayApple didn’t look at me as she approached. She was watching her sister’s body in disbelief. “Oh, DaisyFir,” she wailed quietly. Ninne, her fammie, darkened in grief. MayApple reached for Ninne, and her fingers entwined with tendrils of cloud, seeking comfort and physical support.
Craghn and the rest of the Straw join followed their matriarch. They stood in a small cluster, shocked as they took in the aftermath of the viciousness. Yewsy, my dearest friend, my birth mate, broke loose and came to me.
“Oh, Cleome, what has happened? We heard the noise and felt the power of the magic.” She watched me expectantly.
I turned from her and took my mother’s hot, limp hand.
“They’ve been taken from me,” I whispered.
I pressed my lips to my mother’s long, slender fingers, remembering their gentle touch, their reprimand, their magical power. My mother had been the strongest wit of all. How could her power have failed us? I didn’t understand. It made no sense.
Book Two
“COME AWAY, CLEOME,” MayApple said, taking my hand.
“But...I don’t understand,” I muttered aloud. My other hand sought the warmth and comfort of Afton.
“We need to know,” Craghn said. He pointed to Fede. “Tell us,” he ordered.
Fede lifted from my father’s chest and floated heavily to Irine. The two fammies moved close to us and extended tendrils to Craghn’s fammie, Arthfael.
“Afton, I need to see,” I said, rising and moving to them. I could feel Afton’s reluctance, but I stood strong. He connected with Arthfael and images inundated me.
It was the Brinc clan who had visited this tragedy upon us, but with no Brinc Mother present, sanctioning it. Signe watched from the clearing just outside the Widdershin cottage as a small cadre of his brethren swarmed the house. Lorne, his fammie, suffered, evidenced by his patchy, pocked surface. Signe’s tall sons, Blass, Cathe and Sentr, stood guard while actively directing the attack. Their fammies were dark and small, as well, and I wondered why the Brincs could not see what was happening to their very essence. Their love of technology and lightning power was killing the source of who they were as Meab. If their fammies left or died, what would happen to them? I could not imagine life without our fammies, the entities who birthed us, cared for us and carried us back to Lake Feidlimed when our light was snuffed. Would their beloved machines sustain them if their fammies died?
I turned my attention back to the panorama before my mind’s eye. I saw my mother pulled from the house by Signe’s men, their puny fammies joined into a circular shield so that her magic was stymied. I almost cried out but knew it would do no good. That time had passed.
My father leapt forward, breaking free from two of Signe’s men. He drew his dagger and sent death along its blade, taking one man down. He was promptly attacked by three of the Ray join who held small boxes which they pressed against the skin of his neck and arm. He went down, his face a study in agony. My mother screamed and rushed toward him only to be pulled back by the men.
“We have word,” Signe intoned loudly, “or rather, our watchers tell our Mothers that your join has violated our treaty. That you bewitched two young men of our Outlie join so that they would hinder production. Is this true?”
My mother, even in her grief, her face wet with tears, drew power about herself and stood tall. “I have told you before, Signe, our join, indeed, our clan, has no need for your machines. We are still children of the forest. Why would we interfere in your clan when we ask you to leave ours be?”
Signe adjusted the lapel of his long, metal-plated coat then looked at my mother. “DaisyFir, I know the rebel in you. I know how strongly you wish to maintain the ways of the Witta...”
“Not at the expense of your clan!” Mother interrupted. “An’ it harm none, don’t you remember? We would never interfere with your lives.”
“Why would my watchers lie?”
“Why would we bewitch anyone? To what end? Stop the machines? Not hardly,” Mother countered.
Signe studied my mother and the look in his eye reminded me of an old tale told by MayApple about how Signe, before he joined with the Brinc clan, had wooed my mother with the intent of jo
ining Widdershin. I wondered if the rejection had spurred him toward the Brinc clan and Ray join. And the machines.
“Who understands the way of the Witta?” Signe responded with a sneer.
My mother glanced once at my father’s supine form then took advantage of the distraction to defend her join. She raised her arms and the trees began to sway and shake. Even now, after the fact, I quailed at the power she invoked. Irine swirled bright orange and spun rapidly as the power of wit filled my mother.
“Stop her!” Signe cried. “Stop her now!”
Members of the Brinc clan descended on her. They pressed their machines to her skin and her eyes went suddenly blank, the magic forever locked in her hands. I turned away, pulling from Afton. I could watch no more.
The fammies parted and the images faded. The result remained, however, and I approached my father. I knelt and laid my palm against his cold forehead as I bid him goodbye. “Paria Widdershin, child of the Basil join, man of the Widdershin join. We welcomed you, loved you and now we say farewell.”
I nodded to his fammie. I stood and the members of Straw join moved to stand next to my father. MayApple wept quietly and was comforted by a grim-faced Craghn. Yewsy clung to her little sister, Mint, as her brother, Pine, stood apart and scowled his despair.
