An Average Curse (The Chronicles of Hawthorn, Book 1)

by Rue

  It bothered Flynn that Hazel used the name of the magickal item’s previous partner. Pounamu had given the wand to her, and she might not be able to wield it—but it did belong to her. “Do you mean my wand?”

  “Yes, sorry, again.” Hazel held out her hand and waited.

  Flynn touched the wand to her friend’s palm and warned, “Don’t do any magick with it, all right?”

  Hazel nodded.

  Flynn released her hold, regretfully.

  The wand sat heavy in Hazel’s hand, “I don’t feel anything.” She rolled it slowly in her palm and identified one more of the mystery stones, “Pounamu.”

  “What about her?” Flynn asked.

  “No, the stone,” Hazel pointed, “here. It’s greenstone.”

  Something the witch of the wood said bounced into Flynn’s head. The stone knows its way home. “Do you think that’s a homing stone?”

  “Maybe, that could be how Pounamu found it. Why?” Hazel wondered.

  “I kept wondering why she gave you the homing stone. Maybe because this wand already contained one?”

  “What do you mean ‘why she gave me’? Why wouldn’t she give it to me?” A thin heat of anger rose in Hazel’s belly.

  “It’s just that I’m the chosen one, or whatever, so it was strange that she gave the stone to you, that’s all.” Flynn replied.

  Hazel rose to her feet and pointed the wand at Flynn, “Oh, you’re the chosen one.” Her eyes brimmed with tears and her jaw muscles flexed. “I forgot—you’re the only one who’s special.”

  “Hey, what are you doing?” Flynn reached for the wand.

  “Angi,” Hazel blurted.

  Nothing happened.

  Flynn pulled the wand from Hazel’s grasp and slapped her squarely across the face. “What in the Goddess’ name are you doing?”

  Hazel fell backward and caught herself on a tree. She rubbed her bright red cheek and stared at Flynn. “It made me so jealous—and angry. I tried to—”

  “But you couldn’t.” Flynn hastily slipped the wand back into her secret pocket and a tight smile touched her lips. “With all your magick, you can’t make it work.” She chewed on her bottom lip and straightened her cloak. “Interesting.”

  “Are you all right? Did I hurt you?” Hazel rubbed her forehead, swiped at her tears, and shook her head shamefully. She muttered, “I’m the warning. I’m the lookout.” A lone tear trickled down her cheek. “I can’t believe I turned against you that easily.”

  “What are you mumbling about? Nothing happened, I’m fine. Stop worrying.” Flynn sat beside Hazel. “The wand can’t hurt me, it’s probably a bloodline thing.”

  “No, you’re not safe with me. I can’t be trusted. Magdelana could use me to hurt you in an instant.” Hazel stood up and brushed the dirt from her cloak. “You’re better off without me. I’ll keep your secret, Flynn—as long as I’m able.” She walked back toward Moa Bend.

  Flynn let her go. Hazel could be dramatic and emotional, so she would give her some time to cool off. Everything would be fine by the promotion ceremony.

  Flynn walked back to the village alone and went to her cottage to change into initiate’s robes—white with no sash. If she actually passed her Level Ones she would receive a green sash at the ceremony.

  It pleased her to find the cottage empty.

  She slipped into the white robe and secured her cloak around her neck.

  The empty kitchen offered only a slice of stale bread and a few strips of dried mango before she wandered outside to watch the ceremony.

  Keeping to the lengthening shadows of the nearby huts, she watched the orange-red sun sinking in the sky. Some movement on the far side of the Ceremonial Lawn caught her eye.

  The twilight made her unsure of what she saw, but as she squinted, the image became clearer. Lania had returned.

  No one could walk through The Hagathorn, across Atua Arch, around the Koru path, down to the Ruins of Manaina—and back, in so little time.

  Magdelana had discovered the false plan. Flynn had to find Hazel. She turned to run and smashed directly into Mistress Windemere.

  “Flynn Hawthorn, where are you off to in such a rush?”

  “Mistress Windemere? But I thought you had family business in The Hagathorn?” Flynn could feel the wand twitching.

  “Oh, it turned out to be nothing,” she emphasized the last word and stepped toward Flynn.

  “Oh, good news. Well, I’ve got to—there’s a—” Flynn ran as fast as her small legs could manage. She burst into Hazel’s cabin without knocking.

  “Flynn, what in the Sky Father’s name are you on about?”

  “Sorry, Vida,” she panted, “Sorry, Master Delcourt. Is Hazel at home?”

  “No, dear. She changed into her robes and left for the ceremony a few moments before you arrived.”

  Flynn paced back and forth across the kitchen, oblivious to the smell of baked kumara.

  “Is everything all right, dear? You seem upset.” Vida patted Delcourt’s hand and walked toward Flynn. “Are you in trouble?”

  “What?” Flynn’s mind raced in a thousand directions.

  “Are you in trouble, dear?” Vida repeated.

  She stared at Vida and struggled to bring her focus into the moment. “No, I’m—it’s a girl thing.”

  “I’m a girl, dear.” Vida placed a comforting hand on Flynn’s shoulder and whispered, “Is it your first moon?”

  Flynn couldn’t think of anything to say. She could absolutely not speak the dangerous truth that Magdelana had returned her puppets to Moa Bend to steal the Book of Light, or destroy everyone in the process. “It’s jitters about the ceremony.” She turned to leave and said, “I’ll find her. No worries.”

  “Good luck at the promotion, dear,” Vida shouted at Flynn’s retreating form.

  She ran around the corner of the next cottage and leaned against the wall. She had to get herself back in balance. No solution would reveal itself with her mind spinning out of control. She reviewed the facts: Windemere and Lania had returned; Magdelana wanted the wand and The Book; Hazel, Flynn and Pounamu were the only ones who knew who had the wand; she did not have time to get to Pounamu; she did not know where to find Hazel, plus they were fighting and Hazel might not want to help her; she needed a way to draw Magdelana’s attention away from the hundreds of people assembling on the Ceremonial Lawn.

  “Hey, have you seen Hazel?”

  Po’s voice cut through her mental gymnastics.

  “Po!” She ran to him and grabbed his arm. “I need your help, all right?”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s too much to explain. Just wait for me by the House of Magickal Items.”

  “Flynn, my ma will actually kill me—”

  “Po, this entire village is at risk. Do you trust me?”

  “Barely,” he muttered.

  “That’s enough, for today.” Flynn released his arm and continued, “Wait by the door, when you see me coming, open it and go inside, all right?”

  Po nodded silently. “Do you want me to leave it open?”

  “Yes, it’s the only way.” She ran back toward the Ceremonial Lawn.

  It took her a moment to find Lania. She watched the young girl walking through the initiates, searching for someone.

  Suddenly, Lania stopped, tilted her head, and turned toward Flynn.

  When their eyes locked Flynn saw the image of Lania fade and the flickering image of the face she had seen in the scrying dish at Pounamu’s took form. “Magdelana,” she whispered.

  Lania did not walk straight toward her. She stopped and touched a young boy in a white robe. The boy crumpled to the ground.

  Flynn did not have time to see if he was alive or dead. She reached into the folds of her cloak and drew the wand of Temarama. She held it aloft and foolishly shouted, “Is this what you seek?”

  Lania’s head snapped toward the wand. Her eyes flashed red and she walked toward it.

  Flynn spun around
and raced to the House of Magickal Items. She neared the entrance and saw Po. “Now! Now! Open it!”

  He cast the unlocking spell, spun the tumblers, and pushed open the door.

  She ran up beside him and pushed him inside.

  “Should I close it?” he asked.

  “No, we have to draw her in here and keep her occupied until I can pull that hex bag off Lania’s neck.”

  “Easy, I’ll hide behind the door and yank it off when she walks in,” Po said.

  “That should work. She wants this wand, so I’ll distract her and you grab the bag.” Flynn peeked out of the doorway. “She’s coming.”

  Po ducked behind the thick wooden door and Flynn stood in line of sight of the open door, but a good distance into the room.

  Lania entered the House and a deep crackling laugh filled the space. “Fool of an heir,” hissed the voice that came through Lania.

  Po jumped up and grabbed the hex bag. He screamed in pain as the bag glowed red-hot and bubbled the flesh of his right palm. He fell to the ground clutching his burned hand to his chest.

  Flynn saw the flesh of Lania’s chest blister.

  “I will destroy this vessel before your eyes, runt. Now, give us the wand.” Magdelana stretched Lania’s hand toward Flynn.

  She slipped the wand back into her cloak and ran.

  Po yelled from the floor, “Grab the Tiara of Uira, it allows you to see astral beings.”

  “Silence, pig.” Magdelana forced Lania to kick Po with all her might.

  He curled up in a ball and moaned.

  The astral plane! Of course, Flynn could not believe she hadn’t thought of it sooner. Magdelana wasn’t actually here; she used Lania as an anchor—a vessel. The hex bag formed some magickal connection that allowed her to essentially possess Lania’s body. She raced through the displays, searching for anything that looked like a headpiece. “Yes,” she whispered. She grabbed the Tiara of Uira and shoved it on her head.

  The room shifted in and out of focus.

  She stopped. A large purple amethyst dangled from the headpiece and rested on her forehead, directly between her eyebrows. The room became still and when Lania rounded the corner, Flynn could see Magdelana as clear as if they were standing in the same room. Then she noticed the flicker.

  “The wand, you undeserving insect!”

  Each time Magdelana spoke, she faded in and out of this plane. The projection took its toll on her. Flynn hoped she could use that to her advantage.

  A large wooden shield flew off the wall and hit Flynn in the back. She fell to the ground and the tiara rolled off her head. She crawled toward it.

  Magdelana’s hideous laugh echoed through the House. “A fitting end for a Watcher,” she spat.

  Flynn saw a huge two-handed sword wrenched from the wall. It raced toward her—

  “REWA!”

  The sword melted into a puddle on the floor, inches from Flynn’s neck.

  Magdelana spun to face this new threat, while Flynn scrambled for the tiara and slipped it back in place.

  “I am the warning! I am the lookout!”

  The voice sounded almost familiar. Flynn crawled behind a pillar and peeked around the edge to see who had come to her aid.

  The tiny form of Hazel, wrapped in a flickering blue aura, stood fearless in the center of the room. She held her arms aloft and in one hand she brandished a long, thin wand with a black stone at the tip.

  “Hazel?” Flynn asked.

  “Run, Flynn, run!”

  Magdelana took advantage of Hazel’s distraction to burn another layer of blisters onto Lania’s chest. “Do not challenge the power of the Shadow, witchling. I will not hesitate to melt this vessel, as you destroyed my sword.

  “The mighty Blade of Barrington is not your sword, witch.”

  Flynn saw Hazel’s hand shaking.

  “Run, get out. I can’t hold onto the wand much longer.” Hazel’s voice strained as she struggled to resist Magdelana’s efforts to un-wand her.

  Flynn ran, but not out. She ran to Hazel’s side and touched her arm. “Use me, Hazel. Like you did in Grounding.”

  Hazel clenched the wand and forced her mind to pull energy from the earth. The blue aura surrounding Hazel grew as the power circled through Flynn and back to her. “Now!” she yelled.

  Out of the shadows, Po leapt for Lania’s neck. The masterful hands of the carver sliced a curved chisel through the cord around her neck and drew only a single drop of deep crimson.

  Time slowed for Flynn. She sensed Hazel’s rising power next to her and she watched as the hex bag drifted to the floor.

  “Pehu,” Hazel commanded.

  The bag, cord, and contents turned to dust.

  “Papahu,” she added.

  The dust burst into flame and vanished from this earth—taking Magdelana’s spell with it.

  Lania crumpled to the floor, clutching her chest and screaming.

  The tiara showed Flynn the mist of Magdelana vanishing from the astral plane, before everything went black.

  Flynn opened her eyes slowly. The room held no light. Flashes of memory filled her head. She felt around with her hands and discovered a bed, but not her own bed. Her eyes were adjusting to the darkness and she could smell scents that were unfamiliar. She worried that she had dreamed the defeat of Magdelana and that instead she was being held prisoner somewhere on Southeil.

  The only way to solve the mystery would be to poke around. She sat up, quietly, and eased her legs out of the bed. A rush of dizziness passed through her, and then a hand grasped her arm.

  “Where do you think you’re going, youngling?”

  Flynn cried and laughed all at once. She jumped off the bed and embraced her best friend. “Hazel, you fool. You scared me half to death.”

  Hazel hugged Flynn tightly and let her tears fall freely. “That’s better than all the way dead.”

  “You saved my life,” Flynn whispered.

  “We saved each other. If you hadn’t come to my aid, Magdelana would have torn that wand from my grasp and used Lania to incinerate all of us,” Hazel replied.

  “Oh, Lania,” Flynn moaned. “Is she alive?”

  Before Hazel could answer, the door opened and the face of Nokomis, Mistress of Healing, filled the doorway. She held her lantern into the room and addressed Hazel, “I gave you permission to sit by her bed if you did not disrupt her. This looks a good deal like disruption.”

  “Did you treat a boy—he fell to the ground, before—um, is he dead?” Flynn wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer.

  “Ah, yes, Daval.” Nokomis nodded and a slow grin curved up one corner of her full lips. “It would appear, he fainted from fright when he saw Lania moving toward him with what he called, ‘that look in her eye’. He made a full recovery.” She held her lantern high and fixed the girls with a stern eye. “Now, I must insist you get some sleep or I will have to remove Hazel from your room.”

  Flynn ignored the warning. “Mistress Nokomis, may I see Lania?”

  “In the morning, sweet child. Now, you must rest.” She helped Flynn back in bed, tucked her in, and waved a hand over the girls, “Rotu,” she whispered.

  They both fell into a deep sleep.

  In the morning, Flynn dressed and walked toward Lania’s room.

  She found Po waiting in the hallway, his right hand bound with clean bandages and smelling of lavender.

  She ran to him and hugged him tightly.

  He wriggled loose and blushed a fiery red.

  “Your mother is waiting to see you in the Meeting House,” Po reported.

  “That sounds about right,” Flynn muttered. “I’m going in to see Lania. Do you want to come?” she asked.

  He nodded and followed Flynn and Hazel into the next room. The smell of lavender overpowered the trio as they walked toward Lania. Bandages covered her chest and her eyes flicked back and forth under closed lids.

  “She’s sleeping,” Nokomis informed them. Her long ebony braid trailed
down her back and her large brown eyes smiled warmly. “I’ll leave you in here for a few minutes, but she has to rest.”

  “Nokomis?” Flynn asked.

  “Yes, sweet child,” she replied.

  “Is Lania going to be all right?”

  “I’ve done all I can for her. The burns will heal nicely, barely a scar, thanks to the lavender and my spell work.” Nokomis shook her head and her warm brown eyes glistened with unshed tears. “Only the Goddess can heal the damage inside. Magdelana controlled her for some time—those scars I cannot heal.”

  Flynn jumped when she heard the name of the shadow witch.

  Hazel rubbed her back, “She knows, they all know. The Grand Coven questioned me several, um, days ago.”

  “How long was I out?” Flynn looked from Hazel to Nokomis.

  They exchanged a look and both avoided the question.

  “I’ll give you a moment with Lania, and then you best be on your way to the Meeting House.” Nokomis nodded to the trio and left them.

  Flynn walked to Lania’s bedside and touched the girl’s hand.

  Lania turned and blinked her eyes open. She saw Flynn’s face and silent tears leaked from the corner of her eye.

  Flynn rubbed her forearm. “Don’t cry, Lania. It’s all right. It’s not your fault. Just rest.” She noticed a pain in her hand and looked down. Lania dug her fingernails into Flynn’s flesh.

  “Hazel, help me,” Flynn cried.

  Together they pried Lania’s hand from Flynn’s arm and called for Nokomis.

  “Look what she did to me? Are you sure she’s not still under the spell?” Flynn presented her arm and the four blood-red half-moon slices.

  Nokomis reached into the pocket of her apron, pulled out a small bottle of benchmark thyme oil and rubbed a drop into the cuts. “You’ll be fine. Follow me.” She led the group out of the Healing Hut.

  “Is she still under the spell?” Flynn asked again.

  “No, sweet child, but the poisonous energy of Magdelana took a toll on Lania. Part of her still hates you, and doesn’t know why. This is what the Goddess must heal. It would be best if you don’t come to see her anymore.”