Under Her Spell

by Bridget Essex

  Isabella’s gasped for air as she sat up suddenly in the rocking chair, breathing in and out, coughing. There was a sound behind her, and she glanced back unsteadily to see the Changer entering through the back door and shaking off the excess snow from her cloak of hides.

  The witch leaned forward then, elbows on her knees, rubbing at her eyes with the heels of her hands.

  It was only a dream.

  No. Not only.

  “Darling…” she whispered as Emily came over, treading softly, and squeezed into the rocker beside her, the wood of the rocker groaning in protest as the two women shifted to make it fit them both. “How…how are you?”

  The Changer took one look at her witch and shook her head. “What’s the matter? What happened?”

  “Oh…nothing. The children didn’t even set anything on fire!”

  “I’m glad,” said Emily, low voice a growl as she reached down, placing a tantalizing kiss on Isabella’s neck. The witch squirmed with pleasure and rested her head on Emily’s shoulder, breathing in and out.

  “I just had another nightmare,” she whispered, then, into the silence between them. “But it’s…it’s all right,” she said quickly, as Emily stiffened beside her. When Isabella closed her eyes, she could still see the darkness of the water, the luminescent eyes of the woman who had reached toward her, and the large, sinuous shadow sinking with her.

  “Anyway,” she coughed a little. “It was…fun, telling the story. Mostly. And I…” She closed her eyes again, saw the stained glass window of the Glossmer. “I paid reverence to Cordelia, and blew a kiss to Morpho for you.”

  “Thank you,” said Emily quietly, brushing her lips over the witch’s forehead.

  “You know… I’d never really noticed that window of the Glossmer in the sanctuary before. They made it all hazy, misty. What do you think he looks like, really?”

  Emily stared at Isabella for a long moment, unspeaking. “Well,” she finally said, voice soft. "I can tell you exactly what he looks like. Because I’ve seen him.”

  “Oh." Isabella gaped. "What is he?”

  Emily tilted her head, her gaze faraway, thoughtful. “He’s…a creature. I really don’t know what else to call him. He’s gigantic, taller than the dry goods store, but long, too, like a snake. He was covered in white fur. He had paws and a sort of dragon-elk head. With massive antlers.”

  The witch sat up, eyes wide, as the Changer paused, watching her sweetheart.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing, Em,” Isabella whispered, her mouth suddenly dry. “Keep going.”

  “Well, he lives far, far down in the cave at the top of the mountain, behind these doors of ice, because during the winter, they grow over the cave entrance. Three of them, sort of in a row. And, slowly, the three doors melt until it’s time for Ostara. And then the Glossmer rises from his sleep and drifts down the mountain until he reaches Mirror Lake, before sunrise on Ostara morning. I saw him once,” Emily whispered, gazing out the window at the sunset. “He’s… Magnificent is too small a word for him. He journeys to the lake, floating down the mountain, Isabella, and he blesses it. That’s how the lake becomes enchanted. How it shows us our joys.”

  Isabella was nervously braiding and unbraiding her hair. She bit at her lip. “Eliza said that the Glossmer brings spring?”

  “Well, yes,” said Emily, gazing up at her in surprise. “He does.”

  Isabella chewed at one of her nails, breathing out. “It’s just that the Glossmer and the Loss in the ancient Ostara story seem to be the same thing, and… I mean, is it possible…that what lives at the top of the mountain is the ancient Loss? The actual creature that the goddess Solsta made for Stara?” whispered Isabella, staring at her Changer in wonder.

  Emily’s eyes were wide and round, and she shook her head. “I’ve never heard that name before, the Loss, but in our version of the story, Solsta makes Stara the Glossmer. I just know that he comes down to Mirror Lake and blesses it, then goes back up to his cave, and spring always comes after that.”

  “I really can’t believe Benevolence sometimes,” said Isabella, laughing and beginning to chew on another nail. “It has the most amazing… I mean, there's an ancient god who actually brings spring to the world living at the top of your mountain. Why doesn't anyone outside of Benevolence ever talk about this? Why don't they teach it when they teach the Ostara story?”

  “It’s not really like we get that many visitors,” said Emily wryly, grinning at her sweetheart and tracing a finger over her cheek.

  “But this changes everything,” breathed Isabella, laying back with her head against the Changer's shoulder. “I can’t wait to see him. I can’t even imagine—”

  “Oh, you can’t see him,” said Emily, stiffening beside her. Isabella stopped chewing on her nail.

  “Why not?” The words were plaintive.

  “He comes down before sunrise on Ostara morning. No one must see him then, because he does an ancient, sacred act,” said Emily, voice hushed. “I…I saw him once, only once, but I shouldn’t have. It was because I hadn’t been keeping track of the days in the year as carefully as I normally did, and I was out running before the sunrise… And he came down the mountain, to the edge of the lake.” Emily closed her eyes, breathing out. “It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. He dipped his massive head down, plunging his antlers into the ice and water, blessing the lake for all of us…” She opened her eyes, put an arm about Isabella and drew her closer. “I knew I shouldn’t watch. But I was so lonely, and so enthralled… So I watched him. And when he stopped, when he raised his head, his antlers dripping, he gazed at me. He looked at me, and I saw him look right through me. I’ve never felt so vulnerable, but it was a beautiful feeling, too, like he was blessing me, like he saw something in my heart I guess he liked, because he nodded his head to me. To me, Isabella.” Emily trailed off, then, and Isabella gazed at the Changer, who had her eyes closed again. “After he left, I went to the edge of the lake and looked in. Do you know what I saw?” she whispered.

  Isabella didn’t need to ask. For Emily opened her eyes, sat up slowly and gazed at Isabella, her nose pressed against the witch’s cheek, breathing her in as her arms wrapped about Isabella’s form. “It was last year. And when I looked into the water, I saw myself meeting you in the woods before the Winter Solstice. The happiest moment of my year was meeting you.”

  “Oh,” Isabella breathed out, leaning against the Changer. “That’s beautiful, darling. Beautiful.” Her heart was racing as she imagined Emily, deer Emily, with one foreleg in the air at the bank of the lake as the creature stared into her heart, seeing within it something glorious.

  Exactly what Isabella saw when she looked at Emily herself.

  “It was one of the most lovely things I’ve ever experienced in my life,” said the Changer quietly, breathing out. Isabella didn’t need to be told that Emily had experienced precious few lovely things living alone on the summit of a mountain, outcast from her village for something she’d never even done. The witch bit her lip, gazing at her Changer.

  “I’ve sort of felt odd about it, actually,” said Emily, looking into Isabella's eyes. “It’s why I…why I wanted to talk to you about it this morning. Normally, I go to the cave entrance and check the ice doors every year before Ostara. It… I realize how silly it sounds, now that I’m saying it out loud.” She ran her fingers through her hair. “But I counted it as my job. Really, the only thing I did that seemed to serve a purpose other than keeping myself alive. I would check the ice doors, break away the shards, if there were any left. I imagined those sharp points would hurt his belly if he moved over them." She smiled faintly, then shook her head. “But I haven’t been up there this year. And so…I worry.”

  “Ostara is tomorrow,” said Isabella. “Even if you left now, you could never make it up there and back before the festivities. You could have,” she added ruefully, pressing her fingers to her eyes, “if I hadn’t lost my damn broom.”

/>   “I had every intention of going,” said Emily simply. “There were just several things that stood in the way this year. And it’s not as if what I did was essential,” she whispered, turning to stare out the window again. “Breaking off the sharp edges. Checking on a set of doors that have managed themselves for thousands of years. They were the smallest tasks. The least essential tasks in the world.”

  Isabella felt her stomach tighten at Emily's words, remembering the Ostara animals and how nonessential they had felt...

  But then Alice appeared, bounding up from the floor and onto Isabella's stomach, earning an oof from the witch. The cat then demanded dinner and much petting for being “forced!” to endure “deafening!” children “all day!”

  And, as Isabella was wont to do, she forgot about that foreboding feeling, neatly pushing it from her mind.

  ---

  Drowning.

  …needs help…

  Please help him. He needs you. He needs all of you.

  ---

  Isabella sat up in bed, watching the stars swing low in the western sky, the brilliance of their flashing light soothing her heart. She’d had the nightmare. Again. But there was such a heavy sense of ache in her heart as she watched the sky, and a sense of urgency, too, that usually faded with the dream but had not this morning.

  Ostara morning.

  “Isabella?” asked Emily muzzily as she woke, as she stretched overhead, staring up at the witch. Isabella forced a smile, pressing a finger to her own lips, and then the Changer’s.

  Goddess, she thought as they both rose, as they both began to dress, fumbling with buttons and laces in the dark, dressing as warmly as possible, gazing out the window at the still-quiet night. Or extremely early morning

  Goddess, please, she thought. Show me what I’m supposed to do. And with perfect love and perfect trust, Isabella blew a kiss of reverence to the stars before she and Emily climbed down the ladder into the darkened cottage.

  The witch knew, with perfect faith, that she would be shown the way.

  “This is going to be…to be fun,” Isabella announced muzzily, then, as she plucked her cloak from the peg. Emily raised a brow and gazed at the witch as she took down her second-best witch hat—the one with the insulated point and woven earflaps—and tied it securely on her head.

  “What?” the witch asked, drawing on gloves and wrapping her extra-long scarf around and around her neck. “It will be. Once I wake up a little more. We’ll sing the traditional ‘Welcome, Sun!’ song, do the ritual of gazing into the lake... You forget—my last few Ostaras were less than charming, busily spent being run out of towns. I always had to celebrate by myself. I’m excited about this tradition, tromping in the dark all the way out to—”

  “You’re not really,” said Emily quietly, drawing the witch to her with a smile, “but you’re trying. Which is very sweet.” They kissed for a long moment, both knowing that when they stopped, they would have to face the bitter cold of a far-too-early morning and the exhaustion of a far-too-long walk. So the kiss lasted. And lasted…

  “Ladies, if we don’t leave now, it’ll be Midsummer by the time we reach Mirror Lake,” said Alice huffily at their feet.

  The women broke apart, smiling at each other, and Isabella set her teeth and opened the door.

  It was beautiful outside, if you were only looking at it, not feeling the fierce cold. The snow glittered underfoot, and the sky was scattered with so many stars, it was like a gathering of gems overhead, facets twinkling. Isabella’s breath came out in bright puffs, as, in a spiral of shadow beside her, Emily the human disappeared, the white doe replacing her form. Isabella reached out and placed a hand along the doe’s shoulder, and together, with Alice just behind, they began crunching over the snow and between the solemn and silent pines toward town.

  In the center of the main street, the Changers of Benevolence had gathered, most in their animal forms, as it was easier to cope with the cold (so Emily had told Isabella) as an animal accustomed to experiencing temperature extremes in the out of doors. Mr. Ox swished his tail, great head bowed, gigantic horns almost brushing against the earth as he seemed to snore, whuffling a great nose against the snow, and Mrs. Goose huddled against the bulk of his neck, her beak hidden under one of her wings.

  Lacey Turtle’s animal form, however, was a hindrance in the cold, so she remained as a human beneath two heavy cloaks as she stepped up to Isabella and Emily with a smile. “Thank you so much again for taking care of the kids for me yesterday, Isabella,” she said. “Did you ask Emily about dinner?”

  “What dinner?” began the newly transformed human Emily, but then Mr. Ox glanced about himself and transformed into a human, too.

  “Are we all actually here, then?” bellowed Mr. Ox into the still darkness. “Are we all accounted for?”

  “All of us!” announced Mr. Robin brightly, placing an arm about Miss Wren and young John Goat, who was currently sticking his five-year-old tongue out at Isabella. She resolutely refused to glance in his direction, but was, in fact, laughing into her mitten.

  “All right!” said Mr. Ox loudly, collapsing down into his animal form. “Let’s move!”

  It was slow but merry going as the mixed group of animals and people began to climb up the mountain toward Mirror Lake. There was only one path from Benevolence to the plateau the lake was situated upon, a wide path that Mr. Ox had cleared over the past few days with his plow pulled behind him, sweeping off enough snow so that they could all enjoy an easier trek.

  “Let’s sing ‘Welcome, Sun!’” Lacey suggested when there was a lull in the conversation, and Isabella’s heart soared as she and Emily walked arm in arm, singing out with the others one of the witch’s favorite tunes, the voices raised together in lively melody:

  “Welcome, sun, and welcome, star,

  Welcome air and water and fire,

  Earth and every living thing,

  Welcome back, beloved queen!

  “Welcome, sun, and welcome, life,

  Long, sweet days and short, soft nights,

  Welcome, growing plant and seed,

  Welcome, sun, and blessed be!”

  As Isabella sang (badly, but with all her heart), she heard the harmonies and chorusing of all the other folks of Benevolence with her, and she gazed about at the red cheeks and smiles and happy faces, the cold unable to stop them from singing out their joy at the turn of the seasons, and she felt this tremendous lightness begin to grow in her belly.

  No one here was perfect. (Certainly not herself.) And, yes, the people of Benevolence had been cruel to Emily. But, like Solsta in the story, their hearts had melted, and kindness had, once more, begun to spring up in Benevolence.

  Isabella could never know how long this would last. Everything in life was finite—she was only mortal, and finitude was an expected risk. But for however long her life shone in this strange, weird, Benevolent way, she would love it and never take it for granted. For the first time in her life, on that too-early Ostara morning, Isabella felt a strange feeling, one she’d never quite felt in all its fullness before:

  Home.

  Benevolence was home to the mediocre witch now. To the mediocre witch and the once-outcast Changer.

  Isabella squeezed Emily’s arm beneath her mitten, and the Changer glanced over at her, brows raised. “What is it?” she asked quietly.

  “Nothing,” said Isabella happily, and thought two simple words—to the world, to the goddess, to Benevolence, and to Emily:

  Thank you.

  They trod through the forest, angling steadily upward for what seemed like years through the absolute dark of early morning, into the brightening sky of almost-sunrise.

  When the sun finally crested over the edge of the world, the group of animals and humans was high enough up on Glimmer Mountain to be treated to one of the most glorious sunrises Isabella had ever before witnessed, the colors resplendent and golden as the sun peeked its too-bright head up and over the edge of land, flashing the first
light of spring in shafts of sparkling white over the gathered people of Benevolence.

  “Right now,” whispered Emily, leaning down and moving her mouth against Isabella’s ear before kissing her cheek soundly, “the Glossmer is bending his great head and antlers down and into Mirror Lake, blessing it for all of us.”

  “It’s not far now,” called Mr. Ox back companionably. “Let’s keep on!” And they did.

  They reached the plateau of the lake shortly thereafter, everyone trooping down the path to gather excitedly on the banks of the water and broken ice, clustering especially at the spot along the bank where Emily had dragged Isabella from the water, where she’d held her beneath her cloak of hides, trying to make her warm. Isabella recognized it, because there were the beckoning branches of the oak tree that had held her undergarments. The witch inched uncomfortably away from that spot, instead angling back towards the edge of the group.

  “Pick your positions!” said Mr. Ox, and as orderly as if they’d done this all their lives (and, indeed, they had), the citizens of Benevolence, all human now, formed an immensely long line around the lake, Isabella and Emily at the very end, where the lake began to curve around, back toward the summit of the mountain that seemed to glitter in the new sunshine.

  “Ready?” called Mr. Ox.

  As one, the people stepped forward and raised their arms, shouting “Welcome, Sun!” Isabella was just a beat behind, her voice fading away when she realized how loud she’d sounded in the silence that had followed the others. Emily smiled down at her and squeezed her mittened hand sympathetically.

  “Together now!” called Mr. Ox, and so—together—everyone took five steps forward, knelt down on the snow around the lake, and gazed into the water past the chunks of broken ice.

  Isabella’s reflection gazed back at her, showing her frizzy, tangled red hair jutting out in odd angles from beneath her witch’s hat, a rosy-cheeked face, and a nose that wrinkled itself as she concentrated. She stared patiently for a long moment—she’d done a little scrying at the Academy and knew that staring at presumed nothingness is part of the magic—but the longer she stared, the more distorted she looked in the water, and she saw nothing at all but that distortion.