Ian nodded, his jaw tight.
"We'd better move," Hunter said, his voice sounding like rocks scraping metal.
Moira forced a smile at her mum, who was slowly walking backward away from her with a desperate look on her face. Her mum looked stricken, as if she would give anything not to leave Moira right now. And every part of Moira longed to reach out and grab her, to hold on and never let go. She was terrified to face the dark wave without her mum at her side. Her mum, who she understood would do anything to protect her. But now it was her turn to protect her mum.
"Go on," Moira urged softly, working to keep her turbulent emotions cloaked. Her mum nodded stiffly. Then Morgan, Hunter, and Sky disappeared below the shallow copse. Now Moira had to wait till Morgan contacted her with the spell.
"I'm sorry," Ian muttered, looking down. He looked as bad as Moira felt.
"It isn't your fault," Moira said. "I'm sorry… about the other night."
Ian nodded. "That was awful. But it wasn't your fault." Then he reached out and took her hand. Both their hands were cold, trembling, but Moira seized his as if it were her lifeline. She wouldn't have to go through this alone.
The sky to the east was sickly green, tinged with purple. There was a foul stench in the air. Anxiously squawking birds of all types were flying past as fast as they could, escaping in the way that wild animals have of knowing.
It was very near.
Moira. Mum was ready. Moira quickly closed her eyes, trying to blank her mind for the tath meanma with her mother. It would be extremely difficult, since they wouldn't be able to touch. She had to have absolute concentration. Then her mother's consciousness was there, pressing on her brain, and Moira immediately opened her mind to let her in. Surprisingly it hurt, and Moira winced and tensed up at the pain of it. I forgot to warn you this would hurt We didn't have time to prepare properly with fasting, meditating, and so on.
It's okay, Moira sent back, gritting her teeth. Then, with Morgan guiding her, Moira opened her eyes and created a circle with purified salt around her and Ian. She put out Morgan's four silver cups, carved with ancient Celtic symbols and representing the four elements: earth, air, fire, and water.
On this day, at this hour, I invoke the Goddess, Morgan told her, and Moira repeated the words. "You who are pure in intent, aid me in this spell."
And on it went, the first part of the spell. It had been greatly simplified, but Moira still needed to define it, clarify her intentions, and identify all the players and parts.
Next to her Moira heard Ian start to speak as he received his part of the spell from Sky. He moved in a care- fully crafted pattern that would define the spell's limitations: exactly where, when, why, and for how long the spell would ignite. The things it would affect, the things it wouldn't. Looking tense and frightened, he knelt and drew sigils on the ground and in the air. Finally Moira finished the first part, and she waited anxiously for Ian to finish the second part before her mum would coach her through the third.
Okay, now Ian’s done, Morgan sent, and Moira nodded. This third part is the actual spell.
Slowly and carefully her mum fed Moira the words to say, the words that defined for all time exactly what this spell would do. Moira needed to move at certain times, to trace runes in the air or on the ground, to rub salt on her hands, to spill water on the ground. She started feeling really terrible about halfway through, when the throbbing pain of the tath meanma, her rising nausea, and the abhorrent stench in the air all combined to make her sway on her feet. What next? she thought, forcing herself to concentrate. Her mother repeated what she was supposed to do, and, almost in tears, Moira began it. Then her head started spinning and Moira seemed to lose all her peripheral vision. An acrid taste rose in the back of her throat and her stomach heaved. Clapping her hand to her mouth, she fought it down, then fell to her hands and knees in the mud of the road.
Moira! Mum sent urgently. Moira, get up! You have to get up! Get up NOW! Panting slightly, Moira raised her head and blinked. She was shaking, every muscle trembling uncontrollably. Oh, no, she thought in despair. They're all going to die because of me. It was too much, this responsibility. What had she been thinking, promising everyone that she could do this? She had been too bold, too arrogant-and everyone she loved would pay the price. She took in another shallow breath.
Around her the twelve coven members were watching her with desperate expressions. She met Katrina's eyes, saw the fear and horror in them, the love and regret. Her gran's lips were moving silently; all this time the coven members had been chanting protection spells, ward-evil spells, spells to try to limit the sickness Moira and Ian felt.
Go on! Morgan sent urgently. You can do this, Moira-you're almost done!
Moira stared down the road. The dark wave was almost upon them. Birds who hadn't escaped were dropping dead from the sky. She could see bits of shredded tree, pulverized rock, wisps of burned grass blowing ahead of the wave. Moira gagged with every breath, covering her mouth. Death was coming. Death was here.
"Now!" Sky yelled out loud, then coughed. "All of you twelve, send your powers to Moira and Ian! Chant your protection spells! All of us together!"
Then her mum shouted, "Ignite it!"
Her mum believed in her. She believed Moira could stop the dark wave. Now it was time for Moira to believe in herself. She reached into the very deepest reserve she had, summoned her last bit of strength, and slowly, slowly staggered to her feet. I call on you, she thought, imagining her strong and powerful ancestors-her mother, her grandmother, Maeve, and everyone before them. I call on your power. It was amazing, the rush of energy that suddenly flowed through her. She could do this. She was Moira of Belwicket, daughter of the sgiurs dan, fated to be born. Today, this moment, she would prove her birthright. Yes. I must. It's up to me. With a huge effort Moira threw up her hands. With her last breath she shouted the ancient Gaelic words that would ignite the spell. Her hair was blowing backward, she was struggling to keep her balance, but again she shouted it, louder this time. Next to Moira, Ian also shouted, his arms out from his sides. A third time they shouted the words.
What's wrong? Moira wondered hysterically. It should have stopped! What's wrong? What did we do wrong? We missed something, we skipped something, Hunter misremem- bered. The spell was wrong.
She watched in horror as the people forming the line of protection scattered, running to the sides of the road and flinging themselves down face-first. Then the cloud was upon them, barely licking the place where Moira and Ian stood.
I'm going to die, Moira thought with one last moment of clarity.
Then suddenly a rip appeared in the fabric of the universe, an odd, eye-shaped nether place. A bith dearc, Moira realized. In a split second the dark cloud was sucked into the rip with more force than one could imagine, like a plane suddenly becoming depressurized at thirty thousand feet. The wave, large enough to cover a field, was pulled through the bith dearc in a matter of seconds. Moira fell to the ground, her hands sinking into the soft mud. It seemed to root her to the earth, and she grabbed a tough clump of muddy grass and held on to it. She saw Ian fall. He'd been standing a fraction of an inch closer to the bith dearc, and he was being pulled inexorably toward the opening. In another second he would be through.
"Moira!" Morgan shouted, racing toward them. "Moira!" Ian was on his stomach, clawing at the ground, his eyes wide. Without hesitation Moira reached out and grabbed his hands, the mud making them slick. There was a half-buried rock in the ground and she braced her sneakers against it, leaning back and pulling with all her might. Feeling as if she were in slow motion, Moira gave a huge heave, her teeth gritted, eyes screwed shut, veins popping on her neck. Then all at once Ian was free and the bith dearc sealed seamlessly, leaving no trace of ever having been there.