An Errant Witch

by E M Graham

  ‘It’ll soon be time for cake,’ he said as he pushed himself away from the wall.

  Chapter 6

  ALL FIVE OF THE OTHERS were already gathered there in the small Common Room which, despite the shoddiness of the furnishings, was the most comfortable place I’d yet found in the castle. The stone walls were covered in a hodgepodge of fabric hangings, their faded embroideries telling tales of myths and magic and lore, and the lumpy old sofas both faced the logs burning in the fireplace.

  ‘Whose turn is it to make tea?’ asked Timothy in his languid drawl as we entered.

  ‘It should be hers,’ Win replied, jerking her thumb towards me. ‘But she probably doesn’t know how to boil the kettle.’

  ‘Tea is hardly rocket science,’ I told her shortly and I looked about me for the makings of it. There was a huge iron sink with a single tap and a shelf above it over to the side, but no kettle and no teabags. And no electrical outlets of course, not here on Scarp in the old wing of the castle. This might be a little more difficult than I thought. Was I expected to magick up the brew?

  ‘I’ll show you,’ Sandy said and he led me towards the sink. He measured loose tea into a large teapot, and brought it over to the fireplace where, with a big mitten on his hand, he lifted a heavy black kettle off its hook.

  ‘Remember, don’t let on to anyone about what happened with the sconce,’ he said in a quiet voice as he poured hot water into the teapot. ‘They’d tear you to pieces if they knew the kind of raw power you hold.’

  He turned away to load up the tray, leaving me with my jaw dropping behind him. Raw power? What could he be on about? Whether I had power or not, I was in total agreement, of course, for I had no desire to be the target of attention, not with this crowd of wolves.

  ‘Now,’ Sandy said. ‘If you wouldn’t mind bringing over the scones, we’ll be all set.’ He placed the over-sized brown teapot on a wooden tray which already held cups and saucers and milk jug and spoons, and brought it all over to the low table in front of the sofas.

  ‘I’ll be Mother, shall I?’ Timothy said, sending a brittle smile around as he proceeded to pour.

  AFTER THE NASTY SUPPER HOUR we’d shared, I was glad to have Sandy by my side. I was even gladder of his advice, for I wasn’t sure the others had believed me when I told them I had no intention of threatening their competitions.

  Given the hour, the warmth of the room and the freshness of the scones, there should have been a cozy feeling of fellowship, all seven of us young witches grouped round the fireplace and sipping tea, but despite everyone’s pretenses at good natured bantering, it was an uncomfortable affair with each of the students playing mind games and no one letting down their guard.

  And it wasn’t long before the sniping began.

  ‘Did you see the rainbow I created over the castle today?’ Timothy asked as if just making conversation to fill the empty space, but everyone knew it was an attempt at intimidation. ‘I managed to create the ninth colour. It does exist, after all!’

  Win’s face took on a sour expression.

  ‘I’ve always thought the illusions of fae-touched magic a facetious use of power,’ Pauline quickly shot, her straight eyebrows managing to convey her disdain. ‘It fact, there’s not much meaningful use for any of that, is there? Doesn’t make a noticeable difference to the world.’

  ‘And not a lot of use in the Competition, I’m afraid.’ Oliver jumped into the fray, smiling as if in sympathy.

  Win snorted. ‘Yeah Timothy, you keep working on those pretty colours if it makes you feel good, but the judges will be looking for talents that will help in the real world.’

  ‘My magic is not fae-touched! And it’s a damn sight more useful than Dragon magic in the real world, Win, illusions are far more subtle than scorching with fire.’

  Oliver chuckled sadly. ‘I think the Kin need practitioners of Pure Mind, for that is the way of the future. Did you know I am able to enter the Matrix?’

  On the sofa next to me, Sandy shifted uncomfortably, as if itching to get up but something kept him back.

  ‘I believe you told us that already Oliver,’ Pauline spit out. ‘Once or twice. Although seems to me that any Normal hacker worth his salt could do what you’re doing with none of the drama and at a quarter of the wage.’

  ‘How are the earth spells going, Pauline? Thought I saw you getting a little bogged down there today,’ Timothy drawled. ‘I think the heavy sheepshit component in the local dirt doesn’t help.’

  ‘Metallurgy, Timothy!’ Pauline turned on him. ‘Is it so difficult for you to understand the difference?’

  I kept my mouth shut to stay out of the line of fire, for they’d already had a go at me today. Fergie too, was staying quiet; she kept a supercilious sneer on her face as if above all the nastiness, but the tendons of her neck were straining with the effort. She refused to catch my eye.

  Sandy however, was turning red in the face and he finally burst through the nasty quibbling, his voice deep and sonorous.

  ‘Dragon Magic, Mind, Physical – all of these are just aspects of the one!’ He looked around at the others. ‘None of these distinctions are important, do none of you see this? What matters is that we are here, on Scarp, in such close proximity to the Crystal Charm Stone – this is an opportunity like no other. Why aren’t we all making the best use of our time to do what is right for the future?’

  He sure knew how to change the mood in a room, for after a long silence, all the other five broke into laughter. But it wasn’t the camaraderie of humor that drew them together; no, they were united in sneering at the small Scotsman and the fervency of unfashionable beliefs.

  ‘The Crystal Charm Stone?’ Timothy sputtered when he could catch his breath.

  ‘I think I read about that one – was it in Harry Potter or T H White?’ Oliver asked. Timothy smacked him on the arm and keeled over laughing again.

  ‘Isn’t the Stone kept in Avalon these days?’ Even Fergie was having fun now that the pack had found a common victim and there was no possibility the attention could be turned on her.

  Pauline was the first to draw the knives out and make a serious cut. ‘The Stone is just a legend, Sandy,’ she said. ‘It’s never existed, any more than Arthur and his sword in the stone.’

  ‘Is not!’ He was furious. ‘I should know, my ancestors were the Keepers of the Stone for centuries!’

  ‘Your ancestors were sheep herders and raiders who lived in sod huts,’ Oliver said. ‘I believe they were actually kicked off the island for their lawless ways, because they couldn’t stop with the blood sports. The McClouds of Scarp are the ones who gave all Scottish clans a bad name.’

  ‘The original Nac Mac Feegles!’ Timothy was still chortling, reluctant to let go of the literary barbs.

  At this last thrust, Sandy stood up and stalked out of the room, his kilt swishing against his legs. As the others still giggled and bitched amongst themselves, I too left, but quietly, without inviting their nasty attentions.

  THERE wasn’t a great deal of cell reception on this island so far away from civilization, but I managed to find a spot in a corner of the attic down the corridor from our room. I wasn’t phoning home this time. I was phoning the one person who might understand what I was going through.

  How had Hugh allowed this to happen? He’d known what I would be getting into here on this island; he’d expressed concern but had not done a thing to stop this train wreck from hurtling on its course.

  ‘Dara,’ he said. I heard movement over the phone, then the clicking of a door closing in the background. ‘You made it then?’

  ‘Hugh.’ I breathed out a heavy sigh. ‘What the frig have you gotten me into?’

  He hesitated before answering. ‘It’s not as bad as it could be, that’s something anyway.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Yes.’ His voice began to warm with enthusiasm. ‘I heard that the Competition isn’t to be a bloodbath, just a theoretical c
hallenge. That’s a very good thing, wouldn’t you agree? I’m certainly relieved for you.’

  ‘Oh, yes, there’s a chance I won’t be killed in the challenge, that is certainly a load off my mind. But not to say it’s a certainty, for you haven’t met this crowd.’

  He laughed as if my sarcasm hadn’t made it through the phone line. ‘Look, this will all turn out okay,’ he said in a jollying-along kind of voice. ‘You just keep your head down and soak up what you can while on Scarp. You don’t need to worry about competing – leave that for the others.’

  ‘I have no intention of trying to best any of them, believe me,’ I said. I turned to face the wall and wrapped my free arm around myself. ‘But they already hated me before they even met me. I thought you said there was no prejudice against half-bloods here in Scotland.’

  ‘Yes, hmmm,’ he said. ‘Well, if you’d gone to my own community, as we had originally planned, there isn’t. Your fellow students are not from the Hebrides, unfortunately. The Isle of Lewis and Harris is an anomaly though, of course, as you’ve discovered.’

  ‘And Johanna, what’s up with her?’ I whispered now, for fear of being overheard. ‘She’s a friend of Cate’s. Why has she sent me here, what’s her real agenda?’

  Hugh was obviously taken aback. ‘There’s nothing to fear from Johanna,’ he replied at last, amazement in his voice. ‘She is one of the most reasonable, level-headed people you’ll ever meet in the Kin. She’s one of the good guys, Dara.’

  Our conversation petered out after that, for I couldn’t accept his hearty endorsement of Johanna or his positive spin on my situation. Chills went up my spine as I hung up. No matter how much he insisted, I could not for one minute believe the elder meant me well.

  ‘GOD, that was tense!’ Fergie burst through the door and threw herself on her bed, the iron springs creaking. ‘I’ll be so glad when all this is over, but it’s only just begun.’ She sat on the cot with her head in her hands, allowing her hair to hide her face.

  I’d just changed into my flannel PJs and heavy wool socks, trying to get up the nerve to crawl between the cold covers.

  ‘Such a bloody nest of vipers,’ she added, her voice muffled. ‘What have I signed up for?’

  I sat cross-legged on my own bed with the blankets wrapped around my shoulders, watching her despair with cool eyes. In her desperation to avoid the negative attention of the Kin, she had thrown me under the bus with no thought as to my welfare. She had totally ignored me at supper, yet I remembered how she’d shown herself to be a bit of a rebel in helping me smuggle the medallion on to Scarp. There were bits about her that I couldn’t help but like; I even liked that she got annoyed when she thought I was lying about knowing how to use magic after she’d given me assistance. Fergie had guts, although she didn’t realize it herself. If we’d met under different circumstances, away from the sphere of the Kin, say in a bar on George Street on a Friday night, we’d probably have a lot in common.

  ‘Fergie,’ I began, but hesitated.

  She lifted her head a little and peeked through her mass of curls. ‘What?’

  ‘How well do you know all of them?’

  ‘The Kin?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘The witch community in Scotland is small enough,’ she said with a shrug. ‘You meet up at the solstice gatherings, things like that. Timothy and Pauline, I’ve run into them a lot over the years. Why?’

  ‘Well,’ I began, trying to find the words so as not cause offense. ‘You’re not really like them down there, the rest of them. Are you? I mean, you didn’t really join in to the meanness, the tearing each other down.’

  ‘You’re talking about the utterly bitchy displays of bad behavior?’

  We both giggled a little, and this shared laughter lightened the mood. After a moment she looked up at me again, apprehensively this time, as if wondering how much she could trust me.

  ‘Believe me, that’s what I expected of the Kin,’ I said, allowing a tinge of bitterness to creep into my voice. ‘You’re talking to a half-blood, remember? Growing up, my Dad’s legitimate family took every opportunity they could to let me know I didn’t belong.’

  She nodded with understanding, then she loosened up enough to share a little of her own story.

  ‘You may have noticed my background is a little different from them downstairs,’ she said. ‘My Mum and Dad aren’t rock stars or models or trust fund babies or even on the Council of Elders. Hell, I’ve not seen him for fifteen years. He got himself banished for some drunken foolery, and Mum, well, she tried her best, but the magic life’s not so easy when you don’t have money behind you. She’s made a living reading cards, but half of it’s fake. She lost the heart for magic when m’Dad left.’

  I’d never heard tell of members of the Kin who weren’t fabulously wealthy and entitled; Fergie may have been the first one I’d ever met. I leaned forward on the bed, my elbows on my knees.

  ‘How did that work? I mean, did you go to the same schools as the other Kin kids?’

  ‘Nah,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘There’s not so much organized Kin in Glasgow, they all want to live in hoity-toity Edinburgh. Growing up, we had an after-school program run by a pair of elderly witches round the corner from where we lived, that’s where I picked up all my knowledge. Hedge Witchery, really, that’s all it is.’

  ‘So how did you come to be here?’

  ‘Johanna,’ Fergie said simply, looking at me straight in the eye. ‘She insisted. That witch scares me half to death, but when she tells you to do something, you do it, no matter how much you don’t want to.’

  Johanna again. ‘She must think you have potential.’

  Fergie sighed. ‘That’s what she said, and she also said I needed this experience to bolster my confidence. Don’t see that happening yet.’

  We snuffed out the candles soon after that. I was exhausted from my travel and the trial – had it all taken place in the same twenty-four hours? Felt more like a week had gone by.

  A thought struck me as my body slowly relaxed enough to allow sleep in. Fergie’s situation was not so very different from my own. We were both far out of our comfort zones, like fish out of water. I began to understand a little of her harsh behavior towards me when she deflected the attention of the Kin towards me; I recognized the absolute and sheer terror that lay behind it.

  The fear of the bullied.

  The last thought I remember having that night was the medallion. I would have to come up with a solution to hide it properly on the island somewhere. Fergie had already gone out on a limb for me once, and with this delicate truce between us, I couldn’t ask more from her.

  LYING in the darkness the next morning in that timeless space between sleep and waking, I was conscious of a ringing sound coming from a long way off, but loud enough to reverberate through the stone walls. When it rang again, I recognized it as the sound made by a large gong.

  I looked over to where Fergie’s body was still lying in bed.

  ‘Fergie,’ I said. ‘Fergie! Do we have to get up now?’

  ‘Urghhh,’ she said as she lifted her head. ‘Is it feckin’ morning already?’

  She stretched and then pushed herself off her cot.

  ‘Better make a move on,’ she said. ‘Or the gruel will be cold.’

  She shoved on her jeans and sweater where she had left them on the chair last night and we took turns scrubbing our faces at the sink with the scratchy face cloths and towels supplied.

  The flagstone floor was freezing even through my socks, but hunger was driving me, so I forced myself to move quickly.

  Downstairs the Refectory was cold and dark still, despite the fire burning, and the windows showed not a hint of sunlight so early on a January morning. I was glad of the heavy socks inside my boots but shivered as the damp-cold came through the seat of my jeans.

  Turned out breakfast was a serve-yourself buffet of porridge and berries and cream, not too bad really,
for the fruit was sweet and the cream unpasteurized.

  We all seven of us sat together in the same places as we’d taken at supper the previous night. It was a silent meal, and although I was still bursting with questions about Scarp, I couldn’t ask this crowd for fear of being held up to ridicule. I would have to trust my questions would be answered in time.

  Besides, none of us seemed to be morning people with the exception of Sandy. He must have been up and out with the sheep long before the dawn, for again he brought the freshness of the outside world into the castle with him, along with a strong whiff of manure.

  The large clock behind me said it was ten minutes to eight as I scraped the last of the porridge from my bowl. There was no coffee, but I helped myself to a mug of strong tea from the sideboard, and as I sipped it standing up, I watched Fergie finish her silent meal. Her red curls stood out fluffed all over her head this morning, and I saw that without all the make-up coating her face she was quite pretty, her skin creamy and flawless under the freckles, and her eyes looked softer.

  Chapter 7

  I FOUND JOHANNA’S LAIR upstairs, across from the grand stairway in the newer, Victorian wing of the castle, and I knocked on the heavy panelled door with some trepidation. I had almost been dreading this interview with Johanna – those hours of staring at her across the court room may have skewed my opinion of her and my fear for her. Yet, now that I didn’t feel so alone, I now I felt I had Sandy and to some extent Fergie on my side, I felt better about a lot of things.

  ‘Enter.’ That was Johanna’s voice, so I turned the large crystal and brass doorknob and let myself in.

  Oh, now this was a room. I forgot my fears as I took in these surroundings, for it was everything a room should be. Tall bookcases covered almost every available wall space, with warm wooden panelling everywhere else except for the three long windows arching toward the ceiling where wide moldings offset intricately carved plaster rosettes. Two chandeliers hung from the ceiling, unlit at present, but there was no need for their candles here as electric lights blazed from sconces and from the green banker’s light on her desk. A fire burned in the grate and its heat filled the room, while a red carpet warmed the entire floor.