by Rue
“I don’t think I could possibly sleep,” Hazel said.
“Me either,” added Flynn. “My mind is racing and none of this makes sense.”
Pounamu laid a stack of woolen blankets and goose down pillows on the floor between the girls. “I shall brew up some of my sleeping draught and you two will be asleep faster than Zip can steal my buttons.”
The girls laid out their blankets by the cozy stone fireplace, while Pounamu steeped valerian, chamomile, and her secret ingredient in stout pottery mugs.
Flynn and Hazel accepted their mugs, sniffed, and looked at their host.
“My darlings, it’s perfectly safe. I sweetened it with a little honey to help it slip down easily. Now, drink up and tomorrow we will get you properly supplied for your initiation.”
The girls bravely clinked their mugs and gulped down the strange warm tea. They fell asleep so quickly that Pounamu had to cast a levitating spell to keep their cups from smashing on the floor. She gently covered each girl with a blanket softened by the ages, returned her mugs to the basin, and slid the back of her chair against the door. There were things in the forest that could be quite curious about outsiders and she intended to make sure those things stayed in the woods where they belonged.
***
The girls awoke feeling rested and full of energy. They looked at each other and Hazel pinched Flynn.
“Ow! What are you doing?”
“Is all of this real? Do you remember everything from last night?” asked Hazel.
The smell of porridge and bacon filled the cottage.
“The food smells real. Let’s eat before we decide.” Flynn stood up and stretched her limbs; she noticed the chair still pressed against the door. “Thank you for protecting us last night, Auntie.”
Pounamu smiled and clapped her hands together. “Yes, call me Auntie. Yes, yes.” She placed the food on the table and while the girls filled their stomachs she bustled around gathering various items from dark musty corners.
A small grey mouse ran for a new hiding place as she ransacked his home and a disturbingly large spider crept up to the rafters to spin a new web after Pounamu swept the old one aside to retrieve a turquoise blue bottle from a dusty shelf.
The floorboards squeaked in protest when Flynn rose from the crooked table. “I can do the washing up. Is your basin inside or out?”
“Inside, my darling, always inside.” Pounamu pointed to the chipped pitcher filled with water and the basin on her oak side cupboard.
Before Flynn could prepare the soapy water, Hazel wiggled her hand over the dishes and chanted something under her breath. The sticky chunks of porridge vanished and the magickally cleaned bowls restacked themselves on the shelf.
“Not in my house!” the girls heard, as Pounamu’s staff came crashing down on the table. The ancient wood shuddered and both girls jumped back.
Flynn instantly defended her friend. “She wasn’t showing off, Auntie. Honestly, Hazel’s just got a lot of magick and she forgets sometimes.”
“Sit.”
Whether a request or a spell, their knees buckled and their butts dropped into the chairs.
“Magick is a responsibility. There is no excuse for wasting your powers on mundane tasks. One day you may face a coven of dark witches,” she looked directly at Flynn, “and you will wish you had saved every drop of magick in your veins.”
“What do you mean? Magick runs out?” Flynn looked at Hazel and continued, “Because if it runs out, I think that’s what happened to me. Somehow all mine ran out before my birth and now I can’t do anything.”
The fire of indignation in Pounamu’s eyes sputtered and fizzled out. “All magick has a price, my darling. The world must stay in balance and with the Book of Shadow and Light torn asunder our magick is changing in ways we can’t understand.”
“Mine isn’t changed, Auntie, it doesn’t exist.”
“The Mother Goddess does not choose lightly. You are the child of prophecy and you cannot run from your destiny. Magick or no magick, you were chosen.”
Hazel fidgeted in her seat and finally interrupted. “You said magick has a price. What does that mean?”
“My sister, easily the most powerful witch in nine generations, and yet she could not defeat Makutu’s evil curse unscathed. She had to bargain her soul for the enchantment to save our people.” Pounamu sighed and pressed a hand to the moa stone pendant over her heart. “Maybe the price is not always so great, but make no mistake my darlings, there must be balance.”
Flynn wished she had time to ask Pounamu about the idea of Makutu’s curse poisoning the water in Hokitika, but too much of the morning had already slipped away. “We need to get back to the village, my mother will be furious if we’re late to the ceremony.”
“Yes, yes, a few minutes more. I have some items for you, we’ll call them your solstice tokens since I won’t be at the festivities.” Pounamu retrieved a stone tray filled with trinkets and set it on the table. “Hazel, please stand.”
Hazel stood but cast her eyes downward.
“Look into my eyes, my darling. The wasteful cleaning spell is already forgotten.”
She dragged her focus up from the warped floorboards and stared into the liquid green eyes of Pounamu. Hazel felt the room disappear and she stood atop the moss-covered grey stones of Toki Lookout, gazing out to sea. The salt air filled her lungs and a hot breeze blew up from the south.
Into Hazel’s palm Pounamu pressed the turquoise bottle. “Your magick runs deep. Your blood flows from the people of Toki and your path is intertwined with the child of destiny. You are the lookout. You are the warning. Tangaroa is your protector.”
When Hazel opened her eyes, she sat calmly in the wooden chair and Flynn stared aimlessly at the crackling fire. She felt the bottle in her hand and quickly stuffed it into her satchel.
“Flynn, stand.”
She rose and met her auntie’s gaze. Flynn drifted into the mesmerizing emerald pools and found herself in a room she did not recognize. The walls were covered with strange objects and a panel in the back of the room shimmered in and out of existence. When the panel flickered out of sight, a bright hypnotic glow escaped from somewhere behind the wall. She strained to see what caused the glow, but each time she focused, the panel re-appeared and blocked her view.
Pounamu pressed an intertwined hawthorn and kauri wand into Flynn’s hand. “This is the wand of Temarama, recovered from the forest a hundred years after she disappeared. It would have been passed down to her daughter, had it not been lost, so I give it to you to reunite the line. You will find your magick when you need it and you will have what you desire. Do not judge your mother so harshly, trust her love for you, and know that she holds the key to your future.”
When she came out of the trance, Flynn sat hunched over the wand, crying. One of her tears splattered onto the wood and she felt the wand quiver in her hand. She slipped it into a slender pocket inside her cloak before she looked over at Hazel, who whistled absently and braided some bits of her hair. Flynn looked up at Pounamu.
“She heard nothing.” Pounamu slid a smooth green pebble off of the stone tray before returning the platter to the corner. “All right girls, one last thing before you depart.”
The girls stood from their chairs and leaned over the table.
She picked up the smooth stone and twirled it though her fingers. “This is a homing stone. The only way you can leave the island and return safely through the mist is if you have one of these.”
“But why would we leave the island?”
“Someone has to bring us pterodactyl skin from the south island and without this you would be lost to us forever. I am the keeper of the stones. I know who possesses every stone. Most are given only to a Priestess, and only for a single journey. I feel my sister urging me to give one to you—Hazel.”
Flynn frowned, but quickly adjusted her face in an attempt to look pleased.
“You must both promise to keep the stone a secret. Give i
t to no one, and return to visit me regularly so I can ensure that it is safe.”
“How will we find our way back?”
“The stone knows its way home.”
And with that, Pounamu released the locking spell on the front door, called her faery guard, and walked the girls to the edge of Dreamwood Forest. “Send me word on your initiation, my darlings.”
“We will, Auntie.” Flynn already felt quite sure of her result. Fail.
Despite the biting wind, the rosy-cheeked villagers and visitors sang merrily as they carried large branches to the bare earth circle in the center of the Ceremonial Lawn. Flynn had no idea what her mother could’ve said at the welcome feast to lift everyone’s spirits, but she could tell the bonfire would be larger than last year—she had never seen so much wood. Even the little ones were bringing sticks and twigs to the heap.
At the edge of the village two huge pots bubbled, despite the hard winter and the poor harvest. Young girls brought more wood to their mothers and young boys carried pails of taro and kumara peelings to the frozen compost bin. The aroma of lamb and rabbit roasting over open fires filled the air, while a haziness drifted between the cottages from the eels being smoked down at the fish market.
A long line had formed outside the blacksmith’s hut. Visitors wanted to take full advantage of Moa Bend’s renowned smithy. He possessed the only magickally-imbued anvil on the island and he folded the skymetal of his ceremonial knives over four hundred times.
The weaver had hired a couple of local girls to help her manage all the bolts of fabric flying off the shelves as families stocked up for the season. Visitors who were lucky enough to come to town twice a year had placed orders at the Spring Rite or Summer Solstice and were eagerly picking up their linen, light wool, and buttons for fresh sets of spring clothing.
“Kerematua!” a woman shouted.
Flynn and Hazel spun around to find a toddler, floating a steaming kettle above his head, now frozen in mid-toddle. He had almost crashed into the girls.
“Kei riri mai, so sorry,” the mother repeated several times. The woman snatched the kettle out of the air and grabbed the scruff of the toddler’s tunic. “It’ll be the bracelets for this one, eh?” she mused as she half-dragged him back to her cottage.
“At least you never had to wear the bracelets, Flynn,” Hazel said.
“Did you?” Flynn asked.
“Only for about a week, before my fifth solar return. My mother said I learned to suppress my magick very quickly and she only had to threaten the bracelets and I would behave.” Hazel rubbed her wrists. “It was only a week, years ago, but I can still feel the emptiness of losing my connection to the magick.” She looked at her wrists and mumbled, “Poor little guy.”
Flynn shook her head, wishing she could relate—aching for magick to suppress.
As the girls continued along the path the delicious smell of baking bread made their mouths water.
Hazel tugged Flynn’s sleeve. “Let’s go to my house and see if my mother needs any help with the bread.”
Most neighbors exchanged bread, dried herbs, or cloth during Winter Solstice. The long months filled with short days and cold nights took a toll on everyone’s food stores. Solstice tokens were meant to strengthen family bonds and offer assistance to villagers in need. Everyone looked forward to the return of the sun and the promise of spring rains.
Flynn ran to keep up with Hazel. “By help, do you mean help eating it?” she teased.
They rushed through the cabin door out of breath and giggling.
Vida, Hazel’s mother, put her finger to her lips and shook her head. “Your father’s sleeping, Hazel. Take this and go back to the village.” She handed each girl a large roll drizzled with honey and filled with bits of dried mango.
“Thank you, mother,” Hazel whispered.
Flynn nodded her thanks and the girls quietly slipped out.
“Some days I feel so awful for her,” Hazel said.
A mouthful of mango sweet bread prevented Flynn from asking why, but Hazel needed no invitation to continue.
“They were so in love, before—never mind. I don’t want to talk about it today.” Hazel took a huge bite of her doughy treat and went to inspect the bundles of mistletoe. “Can you believe that one of these will be hanging over every threshold in Aotearoa—and I made them?”
Forcing a chunk of food to be swallowed before its time, Flynn replied, “Thanks again for helping me with all of that. I’d probably still be tying bows if you hadn’t shown up. You’re always saving my hide.”
“Consider it my solstice token to you.” Hazel grinned and gave her friend a hearty smack on the shoulder.
“But I don’t have anything for you…” Flynn’s voice trailed off. She couldn’t believe that she had forgotten to make something for her best, and only, friend. Her preoccupation with the looming initiation tests left her with little time to think of anything except her impending doom.
“Give me that last bite of your sweet roll and we’ll call it balanced, all right?” Hazel said.
Flynn hesitated for a moment, but generosity got the better of her and she passed the bun to Hazel. “Balanced,” she said.
“Balanced,” Hazel agreed. The garbled word barely passed through her mouthful of warm sweet bread.
They spent the rest of the afternoon cleverly avoiding tasks by hiding in the loft above the moa nursery. Occasionally they could hear the men who raised and trained the chicks clucking their tongues to herd the small group of chicks from one place to another. As the sun dipped low on the deep orange horizon, Flynn made an announcement, “I think I’m going to watch the ceremony from up here.”
“Why?” Hazel asked, unable to mask her disappointment.
“I know how much you love to light the oak log for your family, but I can’t handle the public embarrassment of standing next to my mother like a silly pet. She won’t even notice I’m gone. One of her acolytes can carry the sun-marked oak branch from the need fire to the High Priestess’ hearth.” Anger laced Flynn’s voice, but tears threatened the corners of her eyes.
Hazel noticed, and kindly said nothing.
“Will your mother worry?” Flynn asked.
“I’ll just pop over and tell her. I can grab some food and another waterskin and we’ll be all set.” Hazel smiled too widely and continued, “I’m sure the bonfire will look magnificent from up here.” She climbed down the ladder and dashed home.
Flynn gazed down at the village, the tents, and the people milling about. “These are my people,” she whispered, “they are my responsibility. Magick or no magick, I was chosen.” The tears flowed in earnest now. She could only offer them her life, her soul—and somehow she would make her mother understand she gave it willingly.
She stopped when she felt the wand of Temarama inside her cloak. She cried harder when she thought of that powerful witch and the ultimate sacrifice her ancestor had made for Aotearoa. “That is all I have to offer. No magick. No super spell. Only my soul.” Huge tears sluiced down Flynn’s cheeks.
Hazel returned, passed a piece of soft cloth to Flynn, and stacked two straw bales under the window. She pulled her friend up and they sat side-by-side, shoulders pressed together, looking out at the huge assembly and listening to the soft flute music drifting up from somewhere below.
Flynn claimed she wasn’t hungry, but when Hazel pulled out a small loaf of bread stuffed with lamb, kumara, and sheep’s milk cheese—she found her appetite.
A rhythmic drumming vibrated through the earth and signaled the start of the Winter Solstice ceremony. Stragglers hurried toward the Ceremonial Lawn, children sat on their parents’ shoulders, and late arrivals shimmied through the crowd for better positions. The drumming intensified and the chanting in the old tongue rippled through the crowd.
High Priestess Kahu entered the Ceremonial Lawn, raised her arms for silence and responded to the chant, “And the sun will return, and the rains will come. So it has always been, and so it wil
l be.”
“So it will be!” the crowd cheered in unison.
Flynn could feel the power of their belief thrumming in her chest. She leaned a little heavier on Hazel.
The ceremony proceeded without any problems. Kahu cast the circle; four members of the Grand Coven called in the Ancestors and the Elements, in turn. The High Priestess called for the return of the sun and placed a charred log saved from last year’s need fire into the huge mound of new logs stacked by the gathered crowd.
Kahu drew her wand and called forth Fire. A blinding flash lit up the night, the spectators gasped, and a dazzling ring of flames hovered above the huge mound of wood before descending and igniting the massive bonfire. Cheers rose and drifted up to Flynn and Hazel.
“That’s new,” Flynn murmured.
“I think Pounamu would call it unnecessary,” said Hazel.
“She’s probably trying to distract everyone from the fact that I’m cursed.” Flynn stood up and stepped closer to the window.
The attendees passed in front of the High Priestess and one-by-one picked up a bundle of mistletoe and a sacred oak branch. As each stick caught a blaze from the need fire, a glowing worm of tiny flames formed in the crowd. Locals walked home to their cottages and placed the hallowed pieces of wood into their own hearths—bringing the promise of the sun into their home. Visitors returned to their tents and placed their burning sticks into special stone solstice boxes. Each would carry a glowing ember back to his or her village and hearth. The whole of Aotearoa connected by this night. All is one.
Hazel put her arm around Flynn and hugged her tight. “Do you want to sleep in the loft tonight?”
“That’s the second best idea you’ve had today,” Flynn said.
“And the first?” Hazel asked.
“Stopping by your cottage to help your mother with the bread,” Flynn joked. “Those were the best sweet rolls—ever.”
They curled together and pulled flakes of straw over themselves to stay warm. Sleep came quickly, after their busy day.
Flynn woke up before Hazel and heard a familiar voice drifting up from the moa nursery. She crawled closer to the opening in the floor, to better hear Mistress Thelema.