Finally, I could take the silence no longer. “Why do you hate me so?”
“Where did you get an idea like that from? I do not hate you.” Those words, said softy, would be an untold comfort to a heartbroken child, but Aunt Bernadine spat them back at me as if they were some kind of weapon.
“You do a very good job of pretending, then.” I stared at my feet. “All I’ve ever tried to do is please you, and yet you act as though my very presence is an annoyance to you. It has been this way since I was a child. I thought it was just your way, but now I am starting to wonder if there is not something more to it?”
Bernadine sighed. She said softly. “Very well. What do you know of your mother, child?”
“Only what you’ve told me.” I said. “Which is not much. I know her name was Ysmay, and she was beautiful. I know she was a witch, and that a man took her against her will, and that was how I was conceived.”
“Perhaps it is time you learned the truth of what happened.”
My heart pounded. The truth? I’d always believed what my aunts had told me about my mother. Which was very little, for they did not speak of her much, just the occasional memory when they were feeling pensive or had taken to drink. Sometimes I would ask about her, but I never got very far; Aunt Aubrey’s eyes flooded with tears at the very mention of her name, and Bernadine would simply shut down the conversation. I always wanted badly to know more about her, about the woman that had died giving birth to me, the woman that had grown up with Aubrey and Bernadine as sisters. But I didn’t want to upset my aunts, so I kept quiet. It was yet another important part of my life that I had let my aunts control. But no more, no more.
“Yes.” I said firmly. “It is time.”
Bernadine sighed, then fell quiet for several minutes. I thought perhaps she had fallen asleep, but when I turned to look at her, I saw a river of tears flowing unchecked down her wrinkled face. “Aunt?” I asked softly, reaching out to clasp her hand. She waved my away.
“Ysmay was our younger sister, as you know. What you do not know is that she was the best of us three: hauntingly beautiful, skilled in the craft, and impossibly kind. All my life I’ve felt responsible for my sisters, but especially for Ysmay, for she was so trusting of the goodness in others that she often got herself into trouble. She was a lot like you in that respect.
“We were part of a coven that practiced in secret about 20 miles west of our village,” said Bernadine. “The three of us lived together there in a camp not unlike this one, and worked magic with our sisters in relative peace. We were the last generation in a long line of witches, although our numbers had dwindled over the years, ever since our grimoire has been stolen.”
“What is a grimoire?”
“It is a book of spells,” Bernadine said harshly. “All the witches write their potions and rituals in it. It is passed down from generation to generation. But ours had been stolen some years ago, long before I was born. We were rebuilding it, writing out the spells and knowledge we accumulated, but it wasn’t the same. Without our grimoire, we were not as strong as we once were. And many of our number felt this inferiority keenly.”
“Then, a great schism came. One of the witches married a man- a powerful male witch. He had a coven of his own, and they combined with us in order to do more powerful magic. For a time, this was extremely beneficial. We could cast powerful spells to shield our activities. Many women in our coven found companionship with these men. Children were born, passing on our magical skills. But it was not to last.
“The scharfrichters were growing weary of the amount of influence the various covens had over the land at the time. They were recruiting more numbers and becoming more vicious in their methods to extract witches from their havens in the woods. We were concerned about keeping safe, and power was the only weapon we had against men like Ulrich’s father, who was a young scharfrichter at this time, desperate to make a name for himself.”
I wanted to remind her that Ulrich wasn’t like his father, he’d never killed a witch, nor tortured one. But I had just learned more about my mother’s life than I’d ever heard before, and I didn’t want Bernadine to stop, so I kept silent.
Bernadine continued. “The man who led the coven – our new High Priest – had a dark soul, twisted by lust for power, very much like the man who had first cursed our family. He decided the only way to fight the scharfrichters was to take away their political power. He corrupted the others, convinced them to cast spells to manipulate judicial proceedings, rig elections, to place the men in his coven into positions of power.”
“Why not the women?”
“What position of power has a woman ever held?” Bernadine scoffed. “As I was saying, this man began to insert his own men amongst the highest ranks of our land. For a while, this worked in our favour. But some of the women did not approve of the spells the men were having us perform, especially when it became clear that the High Priest was using his powers to manipulate himself into the most powerful position of all, a position he still holds today.”
“But that would mean…” I stared at her in horror. “Lord Benedict. Are you telling me he is a witch?”
Bernadine nodded. “That is how he manages to hold this vast land so utterly under his power.”
“I can’t believe it. Who knows of this?”
“Not many now, he has disguised his rise to power well, and killed many who held his secret. But that is not all of the story, Ada. Now, some of our coven had fallen completely under Lord Benedict’s spell, but the rest of us, including my sisters, knew we had to stop him. So we women met in secret, and devised a plan to bind his power so that he could no longer use it for evil. But in order to do so, we needed an object of his power.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Witches like Lord Benedict collect power.” Bernadine said. “There’s a natural energy that exists in all living things. Witches have the ability to manipulate that energy, and some witches – if they perform certain horrific rites – are able to extract it, and amplify their own energy reserves. But the human body can only store so much of this energy before it transforms you, consumes you. I’ve seen it happen before, and it is not pretty. Instead, you need another vessel to collect the energy. Some witches will use a familiar, or a slave, replacing one body with another when the magic eventually kills them. Others will pour the energy into an object, as Lord Benedict did. He has a ring which he wears on his left hand, the vein in his finger that runs directly to his heart. In the ring is a large, blood-red ruby, the stone that can hold more power than any other.”
“And you were going to steal the stone?”
Bernadine nodded. “Without it, Lord Benedict would have only of the fraction of the power he had collected. It was a foolhardy plan, for how could we hope to remove the ring from his finger without him noticing? But we were out of hope. And that is where Ysmay revealed the part she was to play.
“My mother?”
Bernadine took a deep breath. “Lord Benedict had long desired Ysmay. He would always choose her to be a partner in ritual. She was an earth witch, a healer, while he controlled fire. Together they made a magic more powerful that we had ever seen before. And so, she volunteered to be the one to take the ring from him. Aubrey and I tried to talk her out of it, but she was insistent. She wanted desperately to stop him, to restore the balance of things.” Bernadine closed her eyes. “She was always so concerned about balance, about things being right and fair and true.”
“Ysmay left the coven and went to Rotstrom castle. She threw herself at his feet, sobbing that she had nowhere to go. She told him of our plans to stop him, and that she saw that we were wrong to do so. And so she had fled from us, and wouldn’t he take her in and keep her safe?
“He was wary at first, and although he offered her shelter and free reign within the castle, he did not trust her to come too close to him. So she stayed with him for many months, winning his trust with her kind words and gentle touch. While Benedict was out
managing his estates, she would write me letters and have them delivered to the edge of the forest with a sympathetic maid. It was through those letters I learned of her foolish plan.”
“What?” I leaned forward, my heart racing. This was the most either of my aunts had ever spoken about my mother. I couldn’t believe it so far. She was so brave, walking right into Benedict’s castle and doing anything she could to stop him. Why had they never told me any of this before?
“Ysmay wrote that she had snuck into Benedict’s library, and discovered that he was keeping our grimoire there. For months we had scryed for that precious book with no avail, but there it was right under her nose, protected by powerful enchantments. Bit by bit, day by day, Ysmay was working through the enchantments, in order that she might free the book and return it to us. She believed it was the book more than the ring that would be our salvation.
“I told her to forget about it, that the ring was more important. If we crippled Benedict’s power, we could easily take the book from him another time. But she became obsessed with it. She said Benedict’s library was filled with book on magic and ancient rites, many of them dark and evil – images of demons copulating and human souls roasting in great pots. Through her research she was able to break each layer of enchantment. And she discovered something else.”
“What?”
“She didn’t say. All she said was she’d found a way to break the curse on our family, but she needed more time. Aubrey and I were growing very worried. She’d been at the castle for months, and we seemed no closer to getting the ring back. Then, a terrible tragedy occurred.”
“A woman named Muriel was the moon priestess of our coven, the second in command after myself. She was riding through the woods toward the village, when she was set upon by a merchant, who had been kicked out of the village for drunken brawling. He was angry at having been removed from the public house, and he took his anger out on this poor woman. She tried to defend herself, at first physically, but he easily overpowered her. So she called out to the Goddess to help her. And the Goddess, in her wisdom, came to Muriel’s rescue.”
“How?”
“I was not there, so I cannot say. But from the man’s account in court, he claimed that the vines of the trees swung down toward him, wrapping around his arms and legs, and tugged him off of Muriel.”
“In court?”
“You don’t have to keep interrupting, you know. I’ve decided to tell you the whole story, so wait until I’m finished before you ask stupid questions. Yes, in court. Because of course this man was afraid of witches, and so he ran back to the village in a panic, and told the village elders what he’d seen. And the elders hated witches much more than they hated drunkards, so they sent out men to collect Muriel. They took her from us and locked her in a cell, and a scharfrichter was called from Benedict’s castle to come to judge her. The man who came was Damon of Donau-Ries.”
Bernadine coughed violently, the sound reverberating through the silent valley, so it sounded as if the whole forest were sick. I waited for her to continue.
“We were afraid for the coven. At any moment this scharfrichter would come to torture Muriel, and it was only a matter of time before she broke down and confessed. We felt the only way to rescue her was to gain possession of Benedict’s ring, and so we sent word to your mother that she had to make her move now.”
“She sent word back that she would do her best, and that she would meet us at a certain spot in the woods that night, and she would have the ring. She didn’t reveal her plan, but Aubrey and I suspected. There was no way to steal the ring from Lord Benedict, for he never took it off. She knew that Lord Benedict loved her with his mad, violent passion. So she must have thought to go to bed with him, and then to take the ring from his finger, perhaps while he slept. It was dangerous, and a horrible act to ask a sister to do, but we had no choice if we wanted to save Muriel and the coven.
Bernadine took a ragged breath.
“Aubrey and I waited at the clearing for your mother for many hours, as you and I now wait. Minutes passed as hours in agonizing slowness, but she never appeared. The sun rose in the sky, and we knew something terrible had happened. “We should return to the coven with news,” said Aubrey, and so we set off again, our hearts heavy with fear.
“We were only a couple of miles from our meeting spot, when we heard a scream. It was Ysmay, I’d recognize my sister’s voice anywhere. We turned and ran back as fast as we could, but we were too late.”
“When we emerged again in the clearing, we were greeted by a terrible sight. Lord Benedict had followed Ysmay into the woods. He held her down on the ground, heedless to her cries. His face was twisted with fury. He tore at my sister like a wild beast, while she tries in vain to fend him off. She held something heavy under her arm, and she tried to shield it with her tiny body, but he tore it from her hands. It was a large, leather-bound book. Our grimoire.
“I didn’t even stop to think. I slammed into him, sending him crashing to the ground. His hands flung out to protect his fall, and as they did, I heard a sharp TING of his ring hitting the rock. I knew then that Ysmay had failed, and that we were in grave danger. I willed up all the magic within me, calling upon the goddess to smite this man who affronted her so, but as the power left my fingertips, he hurled me back with a ball of fire.
“The fire surrounded Aubrey and I, closing us within a cage of flames. I threw every ounce of energy I could at those walls, desperate to tear them down, but they rose higher, completely obscuring our view. And all the while Ysmay was screaming, her cries tearing at my very core.”
“We couldn’t see what was happening, but I knew, of course. I had seen that angry lust in his eyes. In his passion, he defiled her. He took the book from her, and he left her lying there, bleeding and broken, upon the cold stone altar he had once worshipped at alongside her.”
My whole body felt cold. I felt such a raw, deep sadness for my mother, a woman I had never met. She had suffered the ultimate in violent acts, all for the sake of the coven. I felt disgusted at the coven, disgusted at my aunts for leaving her all alone, for not protecting her, and most of all, disgusted at myself, for all the times I’d hated her for leaving me. She had suffered so much.
Bernadine continued, her voice hard. “As Lord Benedict moved back toward his castle, his power faded, and the flames died down enough for us to leap over them. We ran to her, and scooped her up, and took her back to the coven. But there was no coven left to return to. They had received word from the village that Muriel had been broken, and had given two more names to the scharfrichters. And so they had all fled like the cowards they were, leaving only us three sisters. We did the only thing we could think to do. We hid ourselves in the trunk of an old oak, and disguised the hiding place with an enchantment. They might come for us, but they would never find us.
“But no scharfrichter came. It turns out, Muriel, beautiful Muriel, had given two false names, and the scharfrichter had left to pursue witches to the west. Instead, the village elder came to speak to us. He couldn’t see us, but he seemed to sense that we were there. He yelled into the empty forest. He said he suspected what we were, but that as long as we did no harm and lived outside the walls of the village, and we gave freely our advice and potions to help the sick in times of need, we would be welcome to stay at the village.” She managed a small, toothy grin. “I think the fact he’d been Aubrey’s consort for several months had something to do with it. We were safe, for now.
“We came out of hiding, and we built the cabin close to the village, and dared to hope we might rebuild our lives. And then we discovered that Ysmay was pregnant.”
Bernadine’s eyes bore into mine. My heart sank as the meaning of her words become clear. I felt as though someone had deflated me, drawing the air from my lungs, so that I had to gasp for breath. “Are you saying that Lord Benedict is…”
“Lord Benedict is your father, Ada.”
My head spun. I couldn’t believe what she’d j
ust told me. Lord Benedict had raped my mother, and I was the result. I was a child of that darkness, born of an evil act that never should have been.
“I’m sorry to have to tell you like this.” Bernadine said, in a voice that sounded just the tiniest bit softer than usual. “Aubrey wanted to be the one to tell you. She thought she’d do a better job at being sensitive.”
I nodded, too numb and shocked to speak. Aunt Bernadine barely spoke to me at all, except to scold and berate me. Now, here she was, talking to me in almost revered tones about my mother. Why now?
Bernadine gave me a sad, crooked smile. “I know what you’re thinking. Why am I telling you this now? To keep you safe, of course. You need to be aware that you have two forces battling inside of you. Do you understand?”
I shook my head, still unable to speak.
“Most witches gain their power from their mothers, for the craft is passed down through women. But there are a few men in the world who can also wield the magic, and your father was one of them. This means that within you is the potential for great good, but also for fierce, destructive power.”
“How do you know this?” I managed to choke out. I felt ill. I didn’t want any part of that man inside of me. Maybe she was mistaken?
“You can manipulate fire,” Bernadine said. “Your mother was an earth witch, a healer like Aubrey. You have inherited her abilities. But she could not perform fire spells. Benedict is a flame witch, one of the most powerful I’ve ever seen. And now, you have revealed that you too have that power. It could only have come from him.”
I felt sick. “I don’t want it. I’ll never use it again, not if it came from him.”
“Nonsense.” Bernadine scoffed. “In many ways you have been given a gift, and you must learn how to use it. We will continue to teach you to harness it, and—”
“You’ll teach me?” I couldn’t help it. All my resentment and anger and fear at what she’d just told me boiled over as anger. “You’ve kept this secret from me for my entire life? You could have helped me to understand, to control what I am, but you were too selfish. You didn’t even teach me to read.”
Coven: a dark medieval paranormal romance (Witches of the Woods Book 2) Page 9