“O Goddess of Light, Goddess so fair,
Please bring these thorns upon her hair.
Let Siobhan know my wrath,
Let her nevermore cross my path!”
“So mote it be!” Kyra said, her eyes lit with expectation.
Afterward we could barely contain our curiosity. Would our spell be a success?
“Perhaps we should go and see with our own eyes,” I said. “Besides, I am due a trip to Lillipool. I must speak to Diarmuid and try to work things out.”
Kyra tucked a cornflower behind her ear. “Perhaps we should pay a visit to Falkner at his father’s shop? If he can get use of a horse, we’ll be in Lillipool in no time.”
I smiled. “Is it because you want to see the spell or because you want to see Falkner?”
A mischievous gleam danced in her eyes. “Both!”
At the Kirkloch blacksmith’s shop we found Falkner, who talked his da into making a run to a merchant in Lillipool. Falkner had met Siobhan at market on more than one occasion. “That one thinks she’s the queen of the Highlands,” he said, rolling his eyes. “ ’Twould be quite satisfying to see her get her comeuppance.”
In no time we were in the dusty Leapvaughn village, searching the marketplace for Diarmuid. It turned out that he was off tending sheep in the hills, but Falkner managed to learn the location of Siobhan’s cottage. We left the horse tethered near a water trough in the village and went out to the MacMahon cottage on foot. The house was a small affair, overlooking a field of dry heather that gave way to a bog. The shutters had been thrown open from the windows, and smoke rose from the chimney.
We perched on a nearby hillside, just behind a fallen log.
“Is she home?” Kyra asked. “I don’t see anyone about.”
“I don’t know,” Falkner said, “but I cannot stay here watching a lone cottage all afternoon. Da’s got work to be done. Besides, ’tis deadly dull.”
“A bit of waiting would be well worth the sight of seeing Siobhan in distress,” I said, watching the cottage.
Over in the bogs a few birds squawked. It was a lazy, still August afternoon. “Perhaps we could take turns napping while we wait?” I added.
Just then the wind kicked up over the heather, rattling through the weeds. It swept up from the bogs, bypassing our little hill but heading straight toward the cottage. As it churned, it blew seeds and thistle toward the house.
The door of the cottage swung open, and Siobhan flew out in a fury.
“There she is!” Kyra cried.
With her skirts gathered high Siobhan raced about the cottage, trying to shutter the windows. She pressed a shutter closed, but the strong wind sucked it back open. She reached for the shutter again, but dust and thistles and seed clods were swarming to her face, forcing her to cower. The thorny seeds blew directly upon her, hooking onto her skirts and apron. Dozens of burrs snagged in her hair, but when she reached up to tug them out, they pierced her fingertips.
“Eeow! Ow! Ooh!” she yelped, dancing about as the thorny seeds flew under the straps of her sandals.
“Ha!” I laughed with satisfaction. The three of us no longer hid behind the log but sat up for the best view of our quarry.
“Oh, Goddess, look at her!” Kyra laughed with me. “She’s a sorry sight.”
“From what I know of her, she quite deserves it,” Falkner said. “I never thought I’d see the likes of her yelping about.”
“Indeed,” I said as Siobhan continued to hop around, pulling burrs from her clothes and hair. “At least this should stop her from sending more spells my way.” And, I thought, perhaps it will keep her away from Diarmuid, too!
“Oh, dear,” Kyra said, her hand flying to her mouth. “She sees us! She’s coming this way.”
I arose and stood tall, not afraid of this petty Vykrothe whore.
“It’s you!” Siobhan yelped, stomping toward me. “This is your magick, is it not?”
“Aye, though I must admit, I had to practice restraint,” I said. “It’s far less than you deserve.”
“Blast you all!” Siobhan said, raising a fist in the air. “I’ll curse you and your families, too!” She was quite a sight, her blond hair matted and tangled like so many rough cuttings of dirty wool. She moved without grace, as if every turn pained her.
’Twas satisfying indeed.
“Easy!” Falkner stepped toward her and gently touched her shoulder. “Easy, now! You rail like a savage beast. Perhaps you’re in need of soothing!”
“Don’t touch me!” she shrieked, stepping away from him. “I’ll have you know that I’m betrothed, and you must mind your hands.”
Falkner lifted his hands defensively. “I apologize! I was just trying to help.”
“Take your leave, all of you!” Siobhan cried as she turned back to the cottage. “Begone, you and your vicious spells.”
“Likewise to any witch who would summon frogs from the pond,” I called to her.
As Siobhan slammed into the cottage, I turned to my friends. “That was worth waiting for, and you’ll be back to your da’s shop in no time,” I told Falkner.
“But wait!” he said mysteriously. He held out one hand as if he were cradling an invisible tool.
“What’s this?” Kyra said. “More magick?”
He smiled. “When I touched Siobhan’s shoulder, I managed to extract a valuable item—a strand of her hair.” He waved his closed fingers before me, and I saw it—a thin line of gold.
I was most impressed. All this time I had thought Falkner a bit dim-witted, but perhaps he had simply been keeping his thoughts to himself. In any case, I had to admire his foresight in stealing something that could prove quite valuable—especially if I needed to cast another spell against Siobhan. “Thank you,” I said, sweeping the golden hair from his hand and tucking it into a tiny pouch from my pocket.
Kyra brushed off her skirts as we headed back toward the center of Lillipool. “That was amusing indeed, though I think Siobhan is a waste of your time and power,” she told me. “You need to go directly to Diarmuid. Speak to him. The true power is with him, not that silly girl.”
“I do believe you are right,” I said as we walked along. “And I shall go to him tonight when he has returned from the fields. The Goddess will give him the strength to defy his name and clan. I know it to be our destiny.”
I could not wait for the evening.
11. Spelling a Death Drink with Dark Powers
Falkner delivered me to the path to Ma’s cottage, and I waved good-bye to my friends with a firm resolution to work things out before nightfall. But as I neared the clearing, I noticed a group of coveners lingering outside our cottage. Panic ran cold within me. Something was wrong. Their expressions were somber as I ran up to them.
“What is it?” I called breathlessly. “What’s happened?”
“’Tis your ma,” Ian MacGreavy answered. He came to me and took my hand. “She’s been hurt, Rose.”
Gripped with fear, I broke loose from him and pushed past the others into the cottage. A few women from the coven were huddled around Ma’s bed, stroking her hair and speaking in hushed tones. As I pressed closer, I saw Ma lying there, her eyes open but glazed. A pool of blood stained the blanket beneath her.
“Ma!” I knelt beside her, taking her hand. “What happened?”
Her face was a mask of pain, and from the look in her eyes I could see she was not completely in this world.
“She cannot speak,” one of the elders told me. Mrs. Hazelton put her hand on my shoulder. “Seems that a stray hunter’s arrow hit your ma. She was just leaving my cottage, having delivered a salve for my husband’s breathing. She went down so fast! The huntsman never came forward, but I did hear his arrow whirring amid the tree.”