by CK Dawn
She wailed her anger at me, the force burning into my mind, and she struck. The branch streaked toward me, the tip aimed directly between my eyes…
Then…light burst through my vision, and a cry of pain caused me to gasp, but it wasn’t my own agony. The branch fell to the ground between us, and Hannah’s head whipped to the side.
“Witch,” she said, snarling.
Fourteen
“Let him go,” a familiar voice commanded.
My head snapped up, and my gaze collided with Aileen. She stood on the opposite side of the clearing, her expression full of anger I’d never seen in her before. And she’d been angry with me plenty of times since I turned up in Derrydun. Those times, I’d shaken in my boots, but this time… She was pure fire.
“A witch and a shapeshifter,” Hannah said gleefully. “What a prize.”
“Boone isn’t yours to win.” Aileen snarled and thrust her hands forward.
The branches pinning me in place severed with a crack, and I fell, hitting the ground face first. Splinters turned into ash, and my wounds began to bleed unchecked as I lay there. As I attempted to push myself up, agony seared up and down my broken arms. It was useless. My bones weren’t healing fast enough…
“You’ll pay for that!” Hannah screeched, her unearthly voice full of a mixture of anger and pain.
She thrust her branches toward Aileen, five more growing from her back, and a high-pitched scream filled the air.
Aileen’s hands whipped back and forth like she was dancing, bursts of light slicing through the air. Her magic cut through the approaching branches like blades, cutting down Hannah’s attack easily.
More branches replaced the fallen, then more and more until there were too many for Aileen to cut through. They surrounded the witch, twisting and tangling, pinning her arms against her sides and locking her ankles together.
“You’re trapped,” the fae said triumphantly. “Where to now, Aileen? Would you like to pay a visit to Carman’s well of magic? Or maybe you would like mine better. Your power could feed me for a hundred years…Crescent.”
“Like hell,” Aileen said, her voice dripping with hostility.
“You have no choice. This is the end of the Crescents. Finally…and to think it was me who caught you. Me!”
I glanced wildly between the pair. But it wasn’t the end. Aileen’s daughter Skye… She’d been hidden all these years…
While the fae was basking in her own cleverness, Aileen wriggled her hands free, working her arms against the roots that bound her. Then with a quick burst of magic, she was free before Hannah realized what was happening.
“If I’m going down, then you’re coming with me,” Aileen cried, slamming her palms down on Hannah’s face. “Eat Crescent magic, you bitch!”
Searing heat exploded from the witch, and I shielded my eyes as the burst of light hit me.
Hannah wailed as Aileen’s power collided with her, the sound reverberating through my bones. The luster of her branches began to turn gray, the life bleeding from her leaves as they broke away from her stems and fluttered to the ground. The echo of her agony made my head throb, her screams endless.
Golden light poured from Aileen’s hands as branches and roots circled around the pair in a whirlwind of flying leaves, and it was then I realized the ground was opening beneath them.
“Aileen!” I cried, dragging myself across the earth. My elbows dug into the ground, the wounds on my arms and legs stinging as I closed the gap. “Aileen!”
Crescent magic twisted and turned, whipping up a frenzy in the middle of the clearing as she fought the onslaught from the fae. Dirt, leaves, and debris flew around and around like a tornado, stinging my exposed skin. Every time I attempted to drag myself forward, I was pushed back.
Forcing my magic to flare, I attempted to change my shape. I could be a fox, a gyrfalcon, a black stallion, anything at all to be able to leap to Aileen’s aid, but whatever Hannah had done to my mind stopped me from changing forms.
My arms and legs were broken, and although I could feel them knitting back together, they still hindered my own magic from taking hold. I was completely helpless.
Aileen cried out, forcing her magic to flare hotter, and the ground heaved beneath them. Then they began to sink. Down, down…until they were up to their waists in the churning quicksand Aileen’s spell had created.
The pressure was too much for Hannah to withstand, and the fae disappeared below the surface, her limbs and branches turning gray. The wind ceased, and for an unnatural moment, debris hung in the air, suspended by the remaining charge of the magical battle, then fell back to earth.
Aileen jerked, her head flopping forward. The ground bubbled beneath her, the dying roots tightening their grasp on her body. She was being dragged under inch by inch, the earth swallowing her whole along with what remained of the fae who’d tricked us all.
“Aileen!” I cried, dragging myself toward her. Pain burned through my arms, but I ignored it, desperate to get to the witch before she was pulled under entirely.
“Boone, keep your distance,” she said, holding up her hand.
All I could see was The Tower with its storm clouds and crumbling facade. The Tower must fall in order to be rebuilt. Aileen had been drawing it for months, which could only mean…
I pushed up onto my knees, a hairsbreadth away from the churned up quicksand. “You knew this was going to happen, didn’t you?”
“Listen to me,” she said. “We don’t have much time, and there is much I need to tell you.”
“Aileen,” I wailed, grasping her hand. “You can’t leave me. I’m sorry. I’m sorry!”
“It’s not your fault, Boone. They would’ve found us eventually. It’s not your fault.” Her grip tightened around mine as the roots snaked around her waist and dragged her deeper. “Now, listen.”
I nodded, willing to do whatever it took to redeem myself. Anything.
“Your role in this story was always going to be greater than mine,” she began. “The Tower…” She cried out as the roots squeezed around her belly. “Skye will come when she hears of my passing. The call of the Crescents is in her blood, and fate will bring her here, no matter her circumstances. She doesn’t know who she is, Boone. You must help her. Guide her. Help her magic awaken. She’s the last Crescent. The last.”
“How? How can I show her what I don’t understand?”
“You don’t need to understand,” she replied, a tear rolling down her cheek. “You can’t tell her. She must discover it for herself. Her legacy will guide her, but you… You must protect her, Boone. You know what’s at stake.”
“Everything,” I whispered.
“Find Robert O’Keeffe,” she added as her shoulders sank below the earth. “He’ll know what to do next.”
“Aileen…” I said with a moan. “I don’t know how to do this without you…”
“You can do this, Boone,” she whispered. “I’ve seen it… Promise me.”
“I promise.”
She was dragged under until her chin grazed the earth around her, and the only thing remaining of Hannah was the churning roots that had ensnared Aileen.
“Thank you,” I murmured, tears spilling down my cheeks. “For everything.”
“Go,” she said in a grating voice. “Go back to Derrydun. Protect them… Protect…her.”
The earth heaved… Then…
Aileen was gone.
Fifteen
Staring at the closed sign that hung on the inside of the door of Irish Moon, I frowned.
Two weeks had passed since Aileen’s death, and I still expected her to be sitting behind the counter with her tarot cards in hand, forcing another reading on me. The witch had been my mentor, but more importantly, she’d been the closest thing to a mother I'd ever had. She’d helped me when I had nothing and when I was lost inside my own mind. That was why her loss was so hard to handle. She had given me life.
It was dark inside the shop. Not even the muted h
um of crystal energy cut through the hardened shell that had grown over my heart.
Thinking about the conversation I’d had with Hannah in the clearing, I grimaced. She’d seemed to know who I was and what I’d done, but the secret of my true identity had gone with her to the grave. All I knew was that my past somehow intertwined with Carman and the plight of the witches. I believed that, somehow, I’d fought for something bigger than myself, and I was hunted for it. I was on the side of good, or at least, I hoped I was. There was no way of knowing for sure, but right now, hope was enough.
Aileen… How she’d known to find us, I would never know, but she’d sacrificed herself to save me without a second thought. All this time, she’d been prophesizing her own death, and I’d been the catalyst.
In her last moments, I’d made a promise to help her daughter…the daughter she’d never had the chance to see grow up. How could I look Skye in the face knowing that if not for me, her mother would still be alive, and she would still be safe on the other side of the world?
I didn't know, but I had to.
It wasn’t until the next morning had dawned that I realized I’d witnessed true Crescent magic. The purest, ancient witch legacy there was in the whole of Ireland. That was what Skye would inherit, and I had to be there to protect her.
Honestly, all of this chaos… I owed the Crescent Witches everything.
Movement beside me drew my attention, and I glanced down at the man who’d found me lingering on the street. He was rather short, the top of his bald head barely reached my shoulder, and his belly was round, giving him a rather jolly appearance. His suit was ill fitting, but it only added to his friendly character.
“Boone,” the man said. “All right?”
I nodded. “As well as I can be, Robert.”
“It’s strange to see the shop closed,” he went on. The strange little lawyer Aileen had asked me to see was full of his own mysteries. “I almost expect her to come and let us in.”
“To be sure…”
“Are ye likin’ your new accommodation?” he asked. “I trust it suits ye well enough?”
“Aye.” I couldn’t stay at Aileen’s cottage, considering it all belonged to her daughter now. After a few days on Sean McKinnon’s couch, Robert had assisted in finding me a small cottage a mile down the road, still well within the boundary of the hawthorns. It was a fixer-upper, but the work had kept my mind busy, though at night…
Thinking of Hannah, I wondered how she managed to deceive us all.
“I don’t understand why no one remembers Hannah,” I said. “It’s as if she was never here at all. It’s strange.”
“She was one of the higher fae,” Robert explained. “Trickery was her nature, Boone.”
“I never had an inkling she was more than human. Not once. Do you think Aileen knew?”
The lawyer shrugged. “It was always hard to tell what she knew.”
“She never mentioned you, either.”
Robert chuckled and patted his belly. “Us wee folk have to look out for ourselves,” he said cryptically.
The sound of screeching tires interrupted our conversation, and we glanced up as a silver car careened around the hawthorn in the middle of the road and came to a halt in the coach bay beside Mary’s Teahouse.
“Ahh, right on time,” Robert declared.
I raised an eyebrow, watching as a woman unfolded her long legs from the car and stood beside it, slamming the door closed. She was tall, her long black hair sweeping halfway down her back. She was quite beautiful to look at, and for a moment, I was stunned.
Her skin was as pale as ivory, and her figure was slender, the curve of her waist slight. She was wearing a short dress, the dark, floral fabric wrapping around her body and fluttering to mid-thigh, and scuffed black combat boots were laced up on her feet. She looked like a grown-up version of Mairead.
Thinking of the MP3 player with its carefully curated playlist the young girl had given me after Aileen had passed, I smiled to myself. A show of strength always came with a side of softness. Mairead cared for Aileen more than she’d ever let on, but somehow, I was sure the witch knew all along.
Finally catching my breath, I stared at the woman with a burning curiosity I’d been unprepared for. I already knew it was Skye—I could sense something familiar lying dormant inside her—but I turned to Robert for confirmation.
“Is that her?” I asked. “Is that Skye?”
“Aye,” the lawyer said. “That’s her. The spittin’ image of her mam, don’t you think?”
She was, but I could also see hints of what must be her father’s looks and temperament. The longer I stared at her, the deeper I fell. Skye.
How was I meant to protect her when I was so lost myself? I didn’t remember who I was, and that could be the most dangerous thing of all. What if Aileen was wrong about me? Doubt after doubt crept into my mind, causing my heart to twist painfully. What if the same thing happened to Skye?
“Aileen wouldn’t have asked ye if she didn’t believe in ye,” Robert said, sensing my uneasiness. “Things are gettin’ worse, and Skye might be the only witch who can stop Carman.”
“But I can’t tell her,” I muttered.
“No. I never understood witches and their laws, but it must be done. Skye must discover her magic on her own. Otherwise…”
He didn’t finish his thought, but I knew the ending.
“It’s a shame it took something like this to understand why Aileen was always so vague with me,” I muttered.
“It’s all about the journey, Boone,” Robert replied. “It’s pointless to give ye a map when the destination doesn’t matter. How else are ye supposed to learn?”
“The hard way.”
He laughed and slapped me on the arm. “I best be on my way or else Skye will fall victim to Mrs. Boyle’s broomstick before long.”
“Aye, not the warmest welcome,” I said, knowing I would get my chance to speak with her at Aileen’s funeral.
Robert crossed the street, swaying back and forth like a penguin hopping over an ice field.
I backed away as he raised his hand in a wave, drawing Skye’s attention. She turned, and when she saw the lawyer, her face lit up with a smile.
Warmth tickled my skin, and I knew it wasn’t a byproduct of the early arrival of the summer sunshine. Glancing back at the hawthorn in the middle of the road, I smiled softly as the leaves fluttered and gently pulled toward her.
The trees were welcoming a long lost Crescent Witch home.
Continue the Crescent Witch Chronicles with Skye’s journey in book one, Crescent Calling.
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About the Author
Axelle Chandler is an Australian Urban Fantasy author.
She lives in the western suburbs of Melbourne dreaming up nail biting stories featuring badass witches, hunky shapeshifters and devious monsters.
She likes chocolate, cat memes and video games. When she’s not writing, she likes to think of what she’s writing next.
Read More from Axelle Chandler
www.axellechandler.com
Dragon Scale Lute
JC Kang
Dragon Scale Lute © copyright 2017, JC Kang
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This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Dragon Scale Lute
Experience the power of Dragon Songs
Only the lost magic of Dragon Songs can save the realm. Only a naïve girl with the perfect voice can rediscover it.
Blessed with an unrivaled voice, Kaiya dreams of a time when music could summon typhoons and rout armies. Maybe then, the imperial court would see the awkward, gangly princess as more than a singing fool.
When members of the emperor’s elite spy clan uncover a brewing insurrection, the court hopes to appease the ringleader by offering Kaiya as a bride.
Obediently wedding the depraved rebel lord means giving up her music. Confronting him with the growing power of her voice could kill her.
One
Not-So-Chance Meetings
If marriage were a woman’s grave, as the proverb claimed, I suspected the Emperor was arranging my funeral. Entourage in tow, I shuffled through the castle halls toward the garden where General Lu waited. Given his notorious dislike of the arts, the self-proclaimed Guardian Dragon of Cathay had undoubtedly envisioned a different kind of audition when he requested to hear me sing.
After all, I was dressed like a potential bride.
I buried a snort. The Guardian Dragon—such a pretentious nickname. The only real dragon, Avarax, who lorded over some faraway land, might make for a more appealing audience. A quick trip down his gullet would spare me a slow death in a marriage with neither love nor music.
And it wouldn’t matter what I wore. The gaudy dress compensated for my numerous physical imperfections, but stifled the only thing that made me special. How was I supposed to sing with the inner robe and gold sash squeezing my chest, in a futile attempt to misrepresent my woefully underdeveloped curves? The tight fold of the skirts concealed my lanky legs, but forced a deliberate pace. At least my short stride delayed the inevitable, while preventing my unsightly feet from tripping on the hanging sleeves of the vermilion outer gown.