The Blessing of Equinox

by Kathryn Reynolds

  Astud still clutched at her shoulder and, though she could not see, she felt the spirit raven lurch and jerk as it tried to defend her. A brush of the beast’s wing over her face provided her one brief moment of fresh air.

  The Unseelie blade, the Blessing of Equinox sword, grew warm against her hip. She could feel the ruby rose’s warding taking hold, fending off whatever disease these evil creatures were attacking her with. She thrashed against the shadow spirits, trying to find her way free, as they continued to move at an alarming speed.

  Shadow spirits.

  Shadows.

  Gritting her teeth, still unable to breathe, Marsilia focused past herself, past the spirits, and into her fae woods. She felt flickers of fae magic rush past her and she reached, gathering up every bit she could as they went. Astud’s wing brushed across her face again, giving her another brief breath of air. Her arms and face stung from the scratches and bites, but she pushed the pain away.

  Furrowing her brow, she called the fae magic to her bidding. Light erupted in her hands.

  The shadow spirits screamed, their wails piercing through her skull. She gasped anew in pain — and found herself falling. She emerged from the cloak of spirits as they scattered away from her light. For one heartbeat, she was weightless, her dryad-fur sailing off her shoulders as she fell.

  Marsilia’s shoulder impacted the ground and she skidded through the mud, twisting and sliding, until her back slammed against a tree. The breath was knocked from her and pain shot up her shoulder blades. Groaning, she collapsed upon the roots of the tree, tears stinging her eyes as she continued to grit her teeth and fought to keep the light in her hands shining.

  Astud cawed, landing on her shoulder, grabbing at her hair with its beak as if trying to pull her up. Managing another pained breath, Marsilia pushed herself up to her hands and knees. Her broken bow fell from her shoulder and one of her bags clattered with the sound of broken glass.

  “You dare return,” the shadows hissed from every direction.

  Eyes growing wide, Marsilia scrambled to her feet, holding the light out before her.

  “You dare come to challenge me,” the dark witch hissed, then cackled. “A pathetic little white witch who couldn’t even get the Blessing of Equinox right. I feel it on your hip, the magic in chaos, unformed.”

  Turning in place, Marsilia kept the light before her, searching the shadows. The heavy clouds overhead in combination with the dense fog made it nearly impossible to discern anything in the woods.

  Pain erupted across her back and she cried out in spite of herself. The raven pendant Fjell had given her flashed against her chest and she felt its magic sweep through her. The spike of pain ebbed, dulled to an ache.

  Behind her, Astud let out another cry and she spun in place. The spirit raven clawed and gouged at one of the shadows and the dark witch sneered in pain, staggering out of the shadows under the attack. Marsilia directed the fae light to one hand, her heart hammering in her chest, as the dark witch knocked Astud from the air.

  The spirit raven spun, hopping across the ground before taking flight once more and sailing off into the woods behind the seidkona. The dark witch sneered, fire beginning to lace up her arms as it had before. Focusing her will, Marsilia let the fae light go and brought up a wall of protection just as the fire lashed out at her.

  Heat seared her despite the protection enchantment and from the corner of her vision, she could see the dark shadows spirits edging in on her again. Panting, she focused upon the protection, baring her teeth as she tried to widen it, tried desperately to defend on all sides as the shadows closed in.

  Chapter 42

  Fjell could barely keep up with the wolves despite his long legs. The spirit beasts flew through the woods, leaping over fallen trees and ravines while the dwarf struggled not to slip in the mud. The fog began to close in around him again, obscuring the half-mist wolves ahead of him.

  Just as he lost sight of the spirit beasts, Marsilia’s cry of pain sounded ahead. His heart lurched in his chest and he gritted his teeth, charging on. A raven screamed in anger and he began to see the faint blue-white glow of fae light. It had to be her.

  Just as he was closing in on the light, it blinked out, only to be replaced by the baneful glow and roar of fire. A very large fire. Cursing, he laid on every ounce of speed he could muster, mud be damned.

  The snarl of the spirit wolves suddenly unleashed and the fog abated for the heat of the fire.

  Marsilia stood, bloodied and tattered, splattered in mud, her teeth bared as she held her hands up against the blaze the kerling was unleashing upon her. The baneful fire hit an invisible wall before her, shooting up and out to the sides. Around her, the wolves tore into shadow spirits. Astud swept down, clawing at a shadow that crept closer to his seidkona.

  Fjell did not give a battle cry this time. Shifting his sword in his hands, he silently called on the magic he’d laid into his masterpiece blade as he charged forward. The kerling only had time to glance in his direction before his shield slammed into her, his sword slashing through the spell she had cast, ending the blaze.

  The dwarf skidded to a stop between the kerling and Marsilia. The dark witch stumbled back, sneering up at him in hate, her eyes a solid blood red and flesh rotting on her bones. He felt magic pass through him, from behind, and saw the faint shimmer of his seidkona’s protection form up before him even as she breathed raggedly behind him. The battle between the spirit wolves and shadow spirits continued around them, but they three stood in the middle, undisturbed.

  The kerling sneered at them from the other side of the ward. “You think you can win—”

  “Shut it, kerling,” he growled and lunged forward.

  The dark witch grinned at him, decaying lips splitting around her rotting teeth as his sword flashed forward. She didn’t move, didn’t try to stop him. The blade stabbed through her heart and she tilted her head to the side.

  “Do you not know death?” she cackled, lunging forward, skeletal hands dripping the remains of her flesh as she grappled his shield. “Do you not know disease?!”

  “Do ye not know how to shut yer mouth?” he growled in reply despite the panic ebbing into his guts.

  She should be dead. He had stabbed her through the heart. She wasn’t just a dark witch, but something worse, something beyond unnatural. In the short time they were gone, she had become a necromancer. Drawing his blade back, he swung at her neck. The necromancer moved with blinding speed, one moment clutching to his shield, the next a half dozen steps back, gathering dark energies in her hands.

  Fjell panted, keeping his growing fear in check, not even daring to glance over his shoulder at Marsilia as he spoke. “Now would be a really good time for that Blessing to be finalized.”

  * * *

  Marsilia trembled from exertion behind Fjell, all the minor injuries, the slowed curse upon her back. She ached with each breath. Her hand dropped down to the Unseelie blade at his comment and she felt the continued pulse of its unstable magic.

  “We make do,” she answered him, her voice strained.

  “Alright,” he answered, audibly grinding his teeth. “I love ye.”

  Her heart caught in her throat, not for the straight forward admission, but for realization of what he meant. This wasn’t a battle they could win. As they had grown in ability, so had the kerling. She looked like a living corpse now, and the seidkona couldn’t allow herself to think on that too long.

  “I love you,” she whispered in return.

  Without looking back at her, Fjell moved forward, intent on the dark witch, the necromancer. Marsilia’s heart began to pound faster. There had to be more she could do. If she tried to call into the veil again, maybe something stronger would answer. The Blessing of Equinox pulsed faster under her hand and she froze, focusing on that pulse as Fjell engaged the necromancer once more.

  The magic of the Blessing continued to increase as her heart hammered away, matching the beat. Jerking the blade from the scabb
ard, she stared wide-eyed at the red swirls. They pulsed with the magic they had been imbued with, with the turmoil of the surrounding battle, with the pounding of her heart.

  Fjell grunted in pain. She raised her gaze back to her love, watching as he slashed his blade through another gout of fire that left his beard smoking. The necromancer spread her arms, grinning, inviting his charge as she began chanting. The mud beneath them bubbled and slid aside as bones began to break the surface.

  Marsilia gripped the blade in her trembling hands. She finally understood. This was the Blessing’s purpose, the fae magic itself. Dropping to her knees, she laid her hands on the ground, the sword beneath her palms, and closed her eyes. A boney hand clawed from the mud and wrapped around her wrist. More skeletal hands raised from the muck, grasping her ankles, her shoulders, trying to drag her to the ground. She ignored them, bracing herself against their strength and pulled back the veil to the Spirit Realm.

  She didn’t send any call forward, but pulled power from there as she did when she performed a healing, as she did when created potions. She felt the woods around her respond, answer to the power she fed through the sword into the very ground. Grass flew up from the mud, vibrant and green, below her hands, her knees. The growing roots bound the skeletal hands that pulled at her, dragging them back to the ground. Gritting her teeth, she pulled more from the Spirit Realm into the Mortal Realm, the strain pounding in her head.

  Vines whipped up from the ground, lashing around the necromancer, binding her.

  “What the—” Fjell began, then cut off.

  Marsilia kept her eyes closed a moment longer, teeth bared. She wrapped more vines around the kerling, feeling the necrotic powers the vile creature wielded begin to rot the new life she brought as the kerling screamed in rage.

  Stumbling to her feet, the sword muddy in her hands, Marsilia flashed wide-eyes to Fjell. The dwarf stared back at her in shock. Everything around him was green with life again, yet around the kerling, rot was spreading once more. The sword continued to pulse with fae magic in her hand, matching her heartbeat, drawing more and more from the Spirit Realm, from the very essence of Nature around them.

  Marsilia came forward on quivering legs as Fjell straightened, glancing between her and the necromancer in disbelief. She stopped at his side, looking up at him.

  “Shield me,” she requested quietly, the pain from the curse as it slowly spread across her back straining her voice. “Together.”

  He nodded silently, his breath labored as he drew his shield around in front of her.

  “How?” the rotting thing that had once been a woman sneered. “You are nothing but a white witch? HOW!”

  Her hand shook as she raised the blessed sword, barely able to keep it aloft as pain pulsed through her back, unable to see past the dwarf’s shield before her. Fjell dropped his own sword to the ground, wrapping his hand around hers, helping to guide her and lending her his strength.

  “She’s a seidkona,” he growled in answer, driving their hands forward.

  The blade pierced the bound necromancer and Marsilia unleashed the power of the fae blessing, the magic she pulled from the Spirit Realm, the protection from Fjell’s enchantment, the power of the very woods around them. The kerling threw her head back with a scream of agony and the blade shattered in their hands.

  Fjell pulled Marsilia tight against his chest, driving them both down to a crouch as he brought his shield up. The powers she had unleashed exploded over them, obliterating what was left of the shadow spirits, driving bones back to their place in the ground, decimating the necrotic dark witch.

  As the magic began to fade, the pain in her back, her limbs, grew and the world slid into blackness. She collapsed in Fjell’s arms.

  Chapter 43

  Fjell ran towards Rohesia’s cottage, Marsilia cradled in his arms and Astud perched upon his shoulder. As scared as he was for his love, as tired as he was from the battle, he couldn’t help but look in wonder around him. Even this far away from the battle, the trees were full of leaves. Green grass sprouted in the sun while deep moss grew in the shade.

  And none of that mattered if he lost his seidkona.

  The door to the cottage opened and the old hedge-witched rushed forward, eyes wide.

  “You did it,” she said, then looked to Marsilia’s limp form. “Is she alive?”

  “Aye, but injured and cursed,” he answered, his voice tight with worry. “Help her. Please.”

  Rohesia pulled back, frowning in consideration. Her gaze roamed around the green landscape before returning to him. “The deed is done. There will be a price now.”

  Fjell’s teeth ground and he barely kept his arms from trembling around his beloved as a spike of rage shot through him.

  “Fine, ye damned selfish old hag,” he growled. “Just help—”

  “Move,” a deep rumble said behind the hedge-witch, cutting him off.

  Grimacing, Rohesia stepped aside and inclined her head to Eudon as the pooka moved stiffly, weakly forward. Fjell swallowed, staring at the legend before him. At Marsilia’s pa. His face was cragged with wrinkles and his green eyes shone with keen intelligence. Large tufted black ears protruded from the sides of his head and he moved forward slowly upon goat legs sticking out from the bottom of his pants.

  “Lay her on the grass,” Eudon instructed, kneeling down.

  Astud took off from the dwarf’s shoulder and alighted into a nearby tree. Kneeling down, Fjell gently laid Marsilia in the grass, brushing her hair back from her face before looking up at the pooka. Eudon didn’t look back at him, but instead focused on his daughter, examining the extent of her wounds before sliding a hand under her back.

  Closing his eyes, the pooka let forth a low rumble in his chest and laid his other hand on Marsilia’s forehead. The grass around her began to grow and motes of light floated up into the air before settling on each of her wounds. As the lights landed on her wounds, the cuts and bites closed until there was nothing but a glow beneath her where the curse had hit.

  Eudon opened his eyes, looking up at Fjell. “You. You staved off the curse?”

  “Aye,” Fjell answered, only glancing at the pooka before returning his gaze to Marsilia, taking her hand up in his own. “With the necklace. She was cursed before and I almost lost her. I couldn’t risk that again.”

  Rumbling thoughtfully, Eudon closed his eyes again and reached over to lay a hand on Fjell’s arm. More of those motes of light lifted from the ground, drifting down upon his wounds, closing them. Fjell drew in a breath in surprise, looking at the legendary healer. The pooka removed his hands from both of them and Marsilia took a deep breath, her eyes fluttering open.

  “You are well, daughter,” the pooka said, looking down at her, before raising his gaze curiously to Fjell. “As am I. Thanks to you both, I assume?”

  “Pa,” she gasped, sitting up and wrapping her arms around his neck. “Pa, you’re alright!”

  Eudon wrapped his arms around her in return, closing his eyes. Fjell sat back, forcing himself to breathe through his relief as he reached up to finally remove his helm. His sword and shield still lay in the woods where they fought, dropped in his desperation to get Marsilia to aid.

  A giant, shaggy, black dog came bounding out of the house, eyes glowing red, to slam in between the father and daughter, licking both their faces as its tail wagged in a blur. Fjell smiled as Marsilia gave over to laughter, scratching the dog’s ears before embracing the beast between herself and Eudon. Pulling back from them, she suddenly looked around, worry etched on her face until her gaze met his. Her fear and concern melted into a warm, affectionate smile.

  “Pa,” she said, turning back to the pooka. “This is Fjell Ulfson. Fjell, this is my pa, Eudon, and my dog, Shuck. I have so much to tell you, of what he helped me with, of all I’ve learned and everyone I’ve met.”

  The pooka nodded slowly, clearly still weak despite his display of healing magic. He looked between the two of them and Marsilia reached back, ta
king Fjell’s hand. The dwarf swallowed back a sudden wave of nerves, looking down at her before returning his gaze to her father.

  “Well met, Prince Fjell,” Eudon finally rumbled. “Any friend, or love, of my daughter’s is a friend to me.”

  Fjell rocked back, but Marsilia’s hand tightened on his and he let out a slow breath. Of course the great Eudon would recognize his name. “Thank ye. It’s an honor to meet ye, Master Eudon.”

  “Excuse me,” Rohesia interrupted from where she stood aside in irritation, suddenly growing pale. “Did you say prince?”

  * * *

  A week had passed since they defeated the dark witch - no, the necromancer. They had spent a couple of days at Eudon’s cabin, making sure he was recovered and checking on Marsilia’s fae friends in her woods. Many had been warned and were saved, and the seidkona was reunited with her dryad sisters.

  Some, however, were not, and Fjell helped her make a small graveyard behind Eudon’s cabin for those lost. When finally her pa was recovered enough, he opened a portal into Spring’s woods and took the form of a raven in mimic of Astud.

  Her pa, her dog, the spirit raven, and her lover accompanied her as they fulfilled their promises to the Ladies of Spring and Autumn. Marsilia blushed profusely when she instructed Hemin that she and Fjell would share a room. She didn't need to tell Trien.

  Each of the Ladies threw them a feast for their victory, and songs of their quest and battles were already starting to be written. Eudon took a private moment to talk with Lady Ylva as an old friend, but did not reveal himself at Autumn’s Keep and Marsilia and Fjell kept the matter quiet.

  They departed the Keep of Autumn with promises for Marsilia to return for more training with Eogain, and for Fjell to return for sparring with Lord Ailbhe. Once well clear of the Keep, Eudon returned to his humanoid form, breathing deeply of the Fae Realm.

  “I must stay here a while,” the pooka rumbled, turning back to face his daughter and her lover. “I allowed myself to grow too weak in the Mortal Realm. I will regain my strength here, but I can take you wherever you need to go first.”