by Linda Jordan
“What are they hunting?”
“They hunt the black unicorns every turn, secretly stalking them, desiring their power. Many of the unicorns feel hopeless their herds will ever recover from the massacre, so many dark turns have flown by with no change. Sometimes, they allow themselves to be killed,” the Witch said, angrily. “Fools, what will they do when they’ve killed them all? The unicorns’ gifts will vanish from this world, beginning the slow drain of all magic.”
She went over by a window, above the sink. A small falcon perched on a branch outside the opening, taking everything in. If Mira hadn’t seen it hop onto the old woman’s arm, she would have thought it was stuffed. The Witch whispered to it and the bird flew out the window. She turned back to Mira and Dylan and said, “My friend will tell the unicorns to hide until Roderick and his men are gone.”
Mira felt awkward about having revealed so much to a stranger. “What should I call you?”
“You can call me Aste.”
“I’m Miranda, Mira. And this is Dylan.” He sat on the bed, leaning his head as close as he could to Amanda without touching her.
Mira wondered if it had been wise to tell Aste about Roderick and Ronan. She didn’t know if Aste could be trusted. Still, killing unicorns.... But weren’t unicorns a myth? Like dragons and faeries? She buried her head in her hands again and breathed deeply, trying to clear her mind and find calmness. That’s what Aunt Rita would tell her to do. To calm herself so she could see clearly. To let her attachment to the outcome go. To simply gather information, then make a request. Only she’d never actually been able to accomplish all that.
She looked up to see Dylan standing next to a small table, glass bowls filled with dried leaves and roots. He was about to tip the table over, trying to reach something.
“Dylan, come here,” she said gently.
He turned and looked at her. “Nanna,” he said pointing to a yellow fruit which sat on the table.
“Oh no dear, that is not a banana,” said Aste. “It is a hapberry and not for eating. Here, have this,” she said, handing him a slice of bread from the counter.”
Dylan looked at Mira as if to ask permission. She looked at Aste.
Aste laughed and said, “I am not going to poison you. If I wanted you dead, you would be already.”
Dylan, sensing her acceptance, took the bread and began gobbling it as if he hadn’t eaten for months.
“You must both be starving.”
“Yes,” she admitted.
“The soup is almost ready and then we can eat. It is getting dark. You can sleep here tonight. I only have blankets on the floor for the two of you. Before bed, I will try to discover who stole your sister’s soul. Then you can decide what to do tomorrow.”
Mira nodded her agreement, having no better plan. Feeling numb, she helped clear off the large table.
Aste set out ceramic bowls, each painted a different pattern. One with blue and white spirals, another with green waves and a third was brown with painted horses galloping around the inside. She brought wooden spoons and sat the pot of soup down on the heavy wood table with a thunk. Aste pulled up a chair, laid her hand flat on the table and closed her eyes. Mira and Dylan sat as well.
Aste said, “Black Opal, creator of soil, bringer of water, breath of wind, source of light and the mystery within. We thank you for this bountiful meal and all the gifts you shower us with daily. Blessed be.”
The soup tasted amazing. It contained vegetables and spices Mira had never tasted before, but reminded her of a curried coconut stew. Even Dylan, normally a picky eater, sat on her lap and ate his entire bowl. Amanda slept motionlessly all evening. Occasionally, she breathed heavily or moaned and Mira felt relief that her sister lived.
After dinner Aste cleared the table and they washed and dried dishes. Aste put a flowered pattern silk cloth on the table. It looked gaudy in colors of red, orange and fuchsia silk cloth. She topped it with four, unlit white candles, which Mira assumed honored the four directions. There was an amber colored candle in the center. Aste set a crystal bowl full of water on the cloth. She then blew out all the oil lamps. The only light shone from the fireplace.
“Shall we begin?”
Chapter 6 - Mira
Aste motioned for them to sit at the table. Mira tried to keep Dylan on her lap, but finally let him stand on his own chair.
The Witch walked around the table, chanting in a language Mira didn’t recognize. Periodically, Aste would stop to light a candle from the fire, until all five burned and the room glowed with their warmth.
She finished casting the circle and sat at the table in front of the bowl of water. “I have made a protective circle around this house and requested the presence of helpful spirits. Now, I will ask about your sister. Please clear your minds of everything, except your love for Amanda.”
She took a cloth bag from her pocket, opened it and pulled out a large pinch of herbs. Aste saw Mira staring and said, “Mint for clarity, yoala to call my guides and spirits, and sandwort to keep us grounded.” She rubbed the dried leaves between her hands and over the bowl of water. Her eyes closed and her lips moved silently. Then she let the crumbled leaves drop. They spread over the water, some floating and others sinking. Mira smelled the pungent mint along with other exotic scents. Aste kept her eyes closed for several minutes. Her hands clasped together and fingers touched her forehead. She bowed her head as if praying.
Mira focused on the joy of being in her twin’s company and the pleasure of simply knowing Amanda lived. She had always depended on Amanda’s groundedness and compassion. Even when living in Seattle with Aunt Rita, Mira had phoned frequently to talk to Amanda and get her support.
Aste opened her eyes and peered into the bowl, stopping once or twice to stir the herbs with a finger. Mira looked at them, but couldn’t see anything besides now soggy leaves. She never had been good at this, too impatient. Dylan stood entranced watching Aste and then stared into the bowl.
“The news is not good. Nakia, the Dark Queen has stolen your sister’s soul because she destroyed her own.”
“The Dark Queen?”
“Her official title is Queen of the Black Opal. She is the very powerful woman who rules this world. The Queen is merciless, killing some for pleasure and torturing others like a madwoman. She is destroying our world with her greed for power and immortality. She is vile.”
Mira’s heart sunk and fear began to fill her. They were now in this Queen’s world. She’d stolen Amanda’s soul; what would this Dark Queen do to Dylan and her?
Aste continued, “It will be difficult to get your sister’s soul back. Nakia is protected by more than her army.”
Great, thought Mira. She was in a world where a queen stole souls, unicorns were hunted for their power and she had a comatose sister and a three year old to help. What could she possibly accomplish?
Dylan, clearly bored by the lack of action, went to sit in an armchair by the fire to watch Amanda. Mira watched as he pulled Freddie out from under his shirt and hugged the dinosaur.
She took a couple of deep breaths and blew them out slowly. “What will she do with my sister’s soul?”
“The only thing I can think is that she will try to make it her own, with the help of her sorcerer.” Aste’s face grew emotionless, but Mira sensed a deep vein of passion bubbling inside her. “This is very dark magic. They will have to do it when our moon Aine begins to wane. The dawn after Midsummer’s Eve. That leaves you nine days to get Amanda’s soul back.”
“And what can I do? Go knock on the Queen’s door and say, ‘Hi, you’ve got my sister’s soul. Return it immediately or the toddler, the zombie, and I will push you down and sit on you!’”
Aste laughed. Then she looked serious again. “You will do whatever it is your heart tells you to do.” Aste looked at her as if she could see inside her heart. “It is what we all try to do.”
Mira snorted.
She sat for a long time staring at the fire while Aste opened
the circle and cleared things away. Dylan had fallen asleep curled up in the chair. Mira didn’t know what to do.
“I will make a bed for the two of you and you can dream on the question,” said Aste.
Mira helped pull cushions and blankets out of a closet that hadn’t been there earlier. They made two beds on the floor. Mira put Dylan in one. He stirred briefly but didn’t wake up. She lay down on the other bed. Aste added a few more logs to the fire and went through a door in the kitchen to another room. How there could be another room in this tiny building?
Mira lay awake worrying and feeling overwhelmed. She felt scared about what needed to be done. Aunt Rita had given up on her only two days ago and that rejection left her feeling worthless. After six years of schooling and work Mira’s magic remained wild and uncontrollable. Rita had told her to go home and do something else; get a job, go to college, find a life.
Well, here was a job, but how could she possibly out-magic and outwit a Dark Queen? Especially when her abilities were so pathetic and courage was running short. She slid into a fitful sleep gazing into the fire, still seeing those horrible dogs and the black swan.
She woke in the morning to a quiet humming noise. Rolling over she found Dylan holding a small, glowing ball in his hands. He bobbed the ball of light gently up and down, cooing at it. Mira gasped and Dylan, startled, looked in her direction.
The ball suddenly took an almost human shape and zoomed out the open window. Dylan looked down at his hands disappointed.
“What was that?” she asked.
“Faya,” he said.
She felt puzzled for a few moments, then asked “Faerie?”
He nodded as if delighted at being understood.
“You’re joking.” She didn’t believe in faeries. Just like Witches weren’t real even though it was clear she was a Witch. Her problem was she couldn’t believe in herself.
Her father had believed in her, before he killed himself. But Mom had always believed her abilities were evil.
Aunt Rita had explained that when Mom was five, she got angry with a neighbor kid and blasted him with all her energy. The boy fell backwards over his bike and cracked his head open on a large rock. He became disabled and ended up in a nursing home. Rita said Mom never got over that and refused to have anything to do with magic, even shutting her own sister out of her life. Mira thought it ironic that Mom could deal with Amanda getting pregnant and having a kid at fifteen, but doing magic put Mira into exile. So she lived without her mom’s support and love. Now to add Aunt Rita’s rejection on top of all that made the ache worse.
Mira searched for what she could have done differently to get her mom to accept her, but could find no way out of that quagmire. She was what she was; a Witch who couldn’t control her power and who didn’t really believe in her own abilities.
She took the hair tie out of her hair, tried to comb it with her fingers to remove some of the tangles and watched Dylan walk around the kitchen area, looking at all the glass jars.
Yet somehow, they were now in a world where branches glowed, unicorns existed along side web-footed predators, souls could be stolen and now it seemed, faeries lived.
She could feel herself growing more vibrant the further they went in this world. It was like paint and water spread on paper. All her colors could move and mingle. But it was a long ways from doing actual magic.
Aste came in the front door with a basketful of plums, roots and herbs, which she set on the table. “I see you are awake.”
“Yes,” she said, looking over at Amanda, who still lay unconscious.
“She should wake up sometime this afternoon,” said Aste. “I’ve collected herbs and roots, some you may know: Solomon’s seal, sweet violets, hawthorn, lemon verbena, lemon balm and some that only grow here in these mountains: tuain, riaba and mustinwort. Your sister will need to take these until she gets her soul back. They will help boost her energy level, but most important make her less moody. Still, she will not be the same sister you are accustomed to.
“How will she be different?”
“She will not have much stamina and will be very bitter and irritable. The herbs may help somewhat, but...,” Aste sighed, “Your sister will be difficult to manage and may be more interested in seeking revenge than doing anything useful to help get her soul back. She will be very angry and the closer she comes to her soul, the more that fury will consume her. Amanda will not be rational.”
“If...,” Mira stopped herself, then continued. “No, when we get her soul back, then what?”
“I can help return her soul to her body.”
“We have no way of repaying you for any of this. We have nothing of value.”
“You have yourself. The worlds work in odd ways. There are many unseen strings tying us all together. When we help others, we may not see the direct effect, but our help will enable them to assist someone else further down the road. That might come back to help us or perhaps not, but it sets up a web of intention towards goodness that stands firm against evil. We must all do our own small piece. Whether it will make a difference in the great balance of things we may never know. Life is not like a story with all the lessons and consequences tied up neatly at the end. From our point of view it is often messy and disorganized. There, that is my lecture on life,” she said, rubbing her hands together as if she dusted flour off them.
Aunt Rita would have said something like ‘karma’ or ‘what goes around comes around’, but this seemed more accurate. She liked Aste’s explanation better. “But what is it I’m supposed to do?”
“The best you can. Believe in yourself. Believe in possibilities. It is clear you have great power, although it is unfocused and disorderly. Act as if magic is possible, because it is not only possible, it IS. You know that deep in your heart. I see it, but your mind tells you otherwise.”
“How do you know all this?”
Aste laughed and pulled two pots down from hooks on the ceiling. “It is what I do. I am a Witch. I do magic. I see the obvious. And the not so obvious.”
Mira shook her head. Folding up the blankets and then stowing them and the cushions in the closet they came out of, she asked “Why do you live in a tree. Are you afraid of being attacked?”
Amused, Aste turned to her and handed Dylan half of a plum she cut as he climbed on a chair. “I always wanted to live in a tree house. So, I built one. No one has ever tried to attack me. Why would they?” she asked, with a wry smile on her face.
“Aren’t you afraid of the Dark Queen?”
“No, but I have great respect for her power. I do not get in her way.”
“But you will get in her way if you help us, won’t you?”
“Yes,” she sighed, “and I am sure she will be aware of that soon, but the trees tell me it is time for change in this world and I must do my part,” said Aste. Her face looked completely empty as if she were masking her emotions. Clearly, this part of the conversation was at an end when Aste began bustling around and taking bottles off of shelves.
Mira and Dylan helped her brew up the infusion of herbs. Aste reduced the gallon of water and herbs to a quarter cup of liquid. It took hours. Aste talked to them of her world as Dylan alternately played with Freddie beside Amanda’s bed and napped in the bedside chair.
Aste poured the infusion into a small silver flask. “Amanda may only have one capful a day. Best to slip it into her food or water so she does not notice.”
There came a tentative knock at the door. Aste glanced into a mirror that hung by the sink. It was very beautiful, made of several pieces of mirror cut and laid at angles within the frame in such a way that they seemed to reflect each other. Mira could see the fractured reflections seemed to create a picture of trees, a stream, a dark horse by a tree and a man.
“Excuse me, I have a customer.” Aste went to the door and opened it a foot and stood in the door. Mira busied herself cleaning up the table they’d been using, trying to overhear the short, terse conversation.
&nbs
p; Aste closed the door, came back into the kitchen, rummaged through a drawer and pulled out a small bag. She filled it with a mixture of different herbs. The fragrant scent of roses, and something like sandalwood wafted Mira’s way. Aste rolled her eyes at Mira as she returned to the other side of the door and presumably handed it to whoever stood there. Aste came back in and closed the door. “Difficult customer. A man who does not believe in his own strength. He needs to find the power to take control of his destiny and the courage to open himself and love the right woman. All that is intertwined in our lives.”
Mira heard a moan behind her and turned to see Amanda stirring. Dylan went and knelt on the floor beside her bed.
“Amanda are you okay?” Mira asked, sitting on the edge of the bed and taking her hand.
Amanda opened her eyes and stared as if trying to understand things. Her eyes looked haunted. There lay an emptiness, a darkness that had never been there before. Mira realized Amanda’s irises were still completely black.
“It’s okay, you’re safe,” Mira said, relieved her twin was conscious.
Amanda coughed and demanded, “Where the hell am I?”
Chapter 7 - Ronan
Ronan woke instantly when the chiala began chattering just before dawn. Their red and gold plumage flashed through the mossy trees as they chased insects and each other squabbling all the while. He walked down to the stream which ran past the camp.
While washing up, the cold water slapped his face awake and he dried it on the nearby jacket. He returned as the other men began to wake with the dawn. While packing the bedroll he realized all his dreams had centered around the redhead. She had not left his thoughts since waking either.
She was no more beautiful than the court women who threw themselves at him. Mira wasn’t charming, instead quite withdrawn and distrustful. Yet, he had wanted her since their power danced together, although she hadn’t given any recognition of what happened. Most of the women he met didn’t have that kind of power. And she came from another land, he thought, while silently eating bread and cheese with the other men, half listening to their banter. Her otherworldliness attracted him. She was mysterious. He walked over to the now cold fire pit, and pulled a chunk of dried, deer meat off the carcass. While chewing it, he tucked more meat into a bag hanging from his saddle.
