Bewitched

by Mark Jay Harris

  The eyes she shared scanned the back room. There were rough wooden cots stacked against the wall. Shelves on the far wall held several skins of wine, and on the ground was a small wooden cradle. The cradle gently rocked back and forth under its own power, keeping a small babe asleep. A small black kitten cuddled up close to the child’s back. Realization startled Samantha. She was looking down at herself as an infant.

  She tried to accept just how far back her own life extended. She must have passed millennia inside a Catadromus spell, something that had never occurred to her before.

  She continued to travel from inside her mother as they left the small back closet, crossed the main room, and exited the house. Outside an oppressive heat settled over them. The day was quickly dying as she and her mother looked out across the sun blasted earth at the boiling indigo sky rapidly darkening with the approach of night. Samantha sensed her mother’s impatience. She was expecting someone.

  The old woman limped. Samantha could feel the pain in the right leg as if it were her own. But the physical pain was nothing to her mother; her true distress was due to a message delivered by a demon. Samantha understood this by listening to the feelings and thoughts that shot across her understanding while she was part of this strange symbiosis.

  Her mother’s memory of Botis, a demon she often conjured, had revealed that a man would arrive just at nightfall, seeking her help. The demon had been mysterious, first offering information without being asked, followed by a contemptuous attitude, which her mother had never experienced from a demon bound to the earth by her spells.

  Suspicion filled her mother’s mind. Most witches and warlocks of the region had retreated to the Appensus or been destroyed by the Warders sent by King Saul to rid the land of those with familiars. Andras felt safe living in the small village of Endor, just over the border among the Philistines.

  Nevertheless, Andras feared these Hebrews. They worshiped an invisible anthropomorphic God that spoke to them through prophets and demanded they adhere to ethics and laws, which would lead them to greatness one day. These Hebrews must be destroyed.

  Of additional concern was her older sister, Shalbriri. Six months previous, she had traveled among these Hebrews, talked with them and learned about their religion and practices. Andras had even received word that Shalbriri had met with their prophet Samuel before his death. Shalbriri had never revealed what she’d learned or accomplished while in the company of this frightful being, but Andras suspected the prophet’s sudden death afterwards had something to do with her sister’s visit. She hoped Shalbriri had been the cause of it.

  Since her return from the city of Ramah, among those fanatical followers of Yahweh, Shalbriri had been acting peculiar. She was showing signs of advanced age that typically wouldn’t occur until a witch’s eighth century. Though only in her four-hundred and forty-second year, she forgot basic incantations or the rites necessary to bind a demon. She even forgot where she had stored potions and enchanted objects. She would leave the hut on her way to the well, then return with a faggot of sticks, glance around confused for a moment, drop the sticks, and head back out to the well. And to make matters worse, her familiar, a large black raven, had grown blind and incapable of taking human form.

  For her part, Andras was only 312. Though outwardly appearing to be elderly, she could alter her appearance if she wished. Though physically weak, she was strong in the power of Baal, perhaps even stronger than her older sister. Through the power of Baal, she had given birth to a child seven months ago and now had great plans for it. She loved the small infant and found it difficult to perform her other duties as well as care for the babe. Shalbriri had been a great help to her in that regard, caring for the baby almost as much as she herself.

  These thoughts of her mother caused Samantha to breakdown. She couldn’t cry while in this joint state, but these tender feelings of her mother overcame her, nevertheless.

  Recovering after a moment, Samantha found she and Andras stood at the rear door of the house that opened onto a pen where her calf, Jenx, was free to wander. Jenx was her mother’s familiar and preferred the shape of the young bovine to her human incarnation. Andras patted the calf’s rump. “He’s coming, my beloved.” The young cow regarded her inquiringly and shook her long neck, jangling a bell that hung there.

  Hearing footfalls, both witch and cow turned to see an old woman emerge from the lengthening shadows of the garden on the south side of their home. She wore a dark cowl that covered her head, and she walked with wearying steps, using a long intricately carved staff as a cane.

  Samantha knew that cane with its carvings. She also knew the old woman. It was her aunt Clara, in this olden time known as Shalbriri. She wanted to say something to her, let her know she was here, inside her mother, but could do nothing but experience the past as her mother lived it.

  “The teabuge is ready for harvest.” The old woman’s voice quavered as she spoke, but had a tone of cheerfulness to it. She held out a bluish clump of grass. “The smoke of this grass can—”

  “We know, sister.” Samantha felt her lips bark these words. Nevertheless, Shalbriri’s good mood was unaffected by her sister’s harsh response.

  Shalbriri labored up the incline to join her sister. “It has come just in time.” She patted a satchel made of goatskin hanging about her neck.

  “Yes, yes.” Andras shook her head impatiently.

  Jenx interrupted with soft lowing. The three of them gazed off to the east. It was dusk, and the westward sun had now dropped below the horizon. They could decipher through the darkening veil of night the small clouds of dust in the distance, rising in tight whirlwinds behind three riders.

  “My guest arrives.” Andras hurried her sister and calf inside the house through the narrow cow-door. The sisters walked through the pen and into the larger opening of their home that constituted the main living area. Samantha was able to make a quick inventory of the small lodging.

  Two lamps suspended from the ceiling were already burning, giving off a weak light. There was a cold brazier in a pit, framed by sun-baked clay bricks.

  Numerous fire-baked pots stood against the walls filled with materials, which, her mother’s thoughts revealed, were best kept secret from the world at large. Curious odors wafted from them and overwhelmed the air in the small open chamber.

  A blanket at the back of the room closed off the small sleeping area Samantha had seen earlier, and at the end of the room, another roughly sewn blanket hung from a wooden frame and served as a doorway between the regular living area of the small hut and the dark cave carved out of the hillside, against which the small house was built.

  “When the stranger arrives, it would be best if thou were not here, Dear One.” Andras indicated their small backroom. “Perhaps thou might retire to thy bed and watch over my child?”

  Shalbriri shoved past her sister and waved the other blanket aside, disappearing into the cave. “After I attend to something, I shall go to my bed.” Her voice trailed off as she melted into the darkness.

  “Not now!” Andras pushed past the blanket into the pitch beyond. Neither Samantha nor her mother could see at first as their shared eyes strained to penetrate the murkiness. A faint glow filled the room, conjured from six blood-red stones distributed throughout the vast cavern. At last, Andras perceived her sister puttering about the Altar of Baal searching for something. The room sickened Samantha who had never actually been in a temple of Baal before. She knew from stories what these profane rooms were used for.

  “Where is my teabuge, Andras?” Shalbriri scolded from across the room.

  “It is still about thy neck, Dear One.” Andras motioned at the goat skin. “Thou must quit this chamber. I have business here soon.” In her mind, Samantha could tell her mother was worried Shalbriri had disturbed something that would somehow prevent her from calling forth the demon.

  “And a fine job thou hast done too, Andras. Thou should be quite prepared for anything.” Shalbriri tottered back towa
rd her younger sister, staff leading the way. “Did Botis inform thee of the man’s arrival?”

  “Aye,” Andras replied. “Of course.”

  “I shouldn’t trust him.” Shalbriri tapped her nose with her forefinger. “Hast thou not perceived his condescending demeanor of late? Far too bold for a demon.” She clicked her tongue, then turned to pass through the blanket-door. However, she ran head first into a wall of dirt. “Oh, dear me.” She rubbed her filthy nose. “I missed the door completely.” She giggled as she passed through the blanket. Samantha couldn’t help feeling embarrassed for her beloved aunt.

  Andras surveyed the cavern, but all was in readiness. Her weak-minded sister hadn’t disturbed a thing. She raked the blanket aside and limped into the shack, but her sister was gone, the wooden door still bouncing loudly against its frame.

  The sound of approaching horses grew louder. She pulled a fresh skin of wine from the rack; Samantha quickly caught a glimpse of herself as a baby, still asleep.

  Her mother stole a quick glance up at the doves she kept in a wooden cage suspended from the ceiling. They contrasted with the large ugly black bird perched on an upper ledge.

  The hard clatter of hooves increased as the visitors neared, traveling up the dirt road of the town that ended at her hovel. Andras listened to them dismount and prepared for their entreaty. However, without requesting entrance, three men burst through the door.

  “What is this?” she demanded. Though she had been warned of their arrival, she had expected them to behave as the frightened and desperate seekers who usually sought her aid.

  “Art thou not the witch of Endor?” demanded the largest of the men.

  Samantha could feel her mother’s blood rush loudly in her ears. “My lords are well aware that the king of Israel hath forbidden and killed all soothsayers of the region. By the gods, I give unto thee my assurance that I have no familiar spirit.”

  The oldest of the men, a bent figure, stepped forward. His eyes were a magnificent blue, not often seen in Canaan, and his hair was a stony grey. He wore an old faded tunic with a rough woven mantel of the poorer classes among the Hebrews. Unlike the other, the old man was civil. “I pray thee, divine unto me by thy familiar spirit, and bring me him up from the grave whom I shall name unto thee.”

  “Behold, thou knowest what Saul hath done, cutting those that have familiar spirits out of the land. Even now, surely thou layest a snare for my life, to cause me to die. Get thee and thy men from my dwelling.”

  The old man fell to his knees and grabbed at her robe. Tears formed in his eyes, and his voice trembled. “As the Lord liveth, there shall no punishment happen to thee for this thing!”

  Andras knew this Hebrew oath was absolutely binding and was relieved to hear it. Samantha could tell her mother was going to give the man the vision he requested, for the demon had foretold it.

  Andras motioned him to one of the chairs at the table. He obeyed, but his two servants remained standing near the door. As Andras poured him wine from the skin, she asked, “Whom shall I bring up unto thee?”

  Samantha knew her mother’s powers didn’t extend to the land of the dead; she was incapable of bringing a soul up from its rest. But from her mother’s mind, Samantha found she planned to bring forth her demon, Botis, who was a master of disguise. When she invoked him to rise from hell, her spell would transform him into the shape of the desired one.

  The old man swallowed hard. Lines about his face told more of grave concern and worry than of age. He whispered to her. “Bring me up Samuel, the Hebrew prophet.”

  Her brows rose in surprise. She bent her head and hid this from the man. Few things caused her skin to crawl as this Hebrew prophet. “Very well.” She knew Botis would do his part well: lie to the man and inevitably send him to his death with whatever knowledge he imparted. “When thou art prepared, come unto me into the chamber beyond.” She reached up and seized a dove from the cage. Andras ignored the squawking of her sister’s familiar, still perched near the ceiling. She ran her thumb lightly along the long sharp blade that hung from her girdle. She nodded, then drew the blanket aside and disappeared into the cave in the side of the hill.

  Dizziness descended on Samantha. The darkness of the cave spun, and a new light appeared before her. She was no longer viewing events from her mother’s eyes, but from the man who had requested this vision from her mother.

  The man rose slowly and glanced at his servants. They returned his anxious expression with those of their own, displaying the degree to which the soothsayer disturbed them. They all seem to share a similar thought about her mother: she must be powerful if the servants of Saul had failed to remove her from the country.

  Samantha could feel a weakness in the man, but knew instantly it was not due to his age, but because he had taken no food that day. His hands shook with anxiety and fear. He closed his eyes and exhaled. Stepping forward, he drew aside the rough blanket and stepped into the darkness beyond.

  At first, he could see only what appeared to be red embers glowing about the round chamber. There was a heavy smell of death and sweat, and unlike most rooms dug out of the earth, it was warm. He blinked and urged his vision to adjust to the dark. Slowly the old witch came into view before a raised platform of earth. Gray smoke billowed around her like steam. She held the bird in one hand and spoke. He didn’t recognize the language, but it had a vile sound that displeased his ear. She threw the bird into the air, and with a blindingly quick stroke, struck it down with the long blade she carried. Its body fell at her feet, but the head landed on the raised mound of earth before her.

  Samantha had heard of this ceremony used to call forth demons and seen it performed once through a viewing stone. The old man’s feelings of disgust at these rites mirrored her own.

  Blood splatter followed the dove’s severed head and ran along a disk that was at the center of the earthen mound. Andras acted out a bizarre ritual, full of strange motions that depicted evil, and the man turned away, knowing that seeing them was the blasphemous work of the devil. Samantha was grateful for his repulsion. Those rituals turned her stomach.

  Once Andras finished, the man crept closer, not daring to come up right behind her, yet understanding he was supposed to witness what took place next.

  From the center of the dais before her, a red glow, brighter than the embers about the room, sprang up from the ground. It grew larger and deeper, and a low rumbling hum accompanied it. Any feelings of God’s spirit he had ever felt in his sordid past now deserted him, as a rising, nauseous fear spread throughout his body. Something evil that was as old as the earth was happening, and it took all his strength to resist the urge to flee.

  Andras stared at the red glow, its color reflecting off her eyes like two bloody suns. She knew the smoke rising up from that light was the corporeal re-creation of the evil spirit that lived beneath: Botis.

  Samantha was momentarily rocked as she realized she was back inside her mother. From the real world back in her living room, Samantha thought she felt the ring on her finger being turned. Her aunt must be manipulating the spell in some way. Seeing again from her mother’s eyes, the Altar of Baal appeared right in front of her; only a few feet separated her from where the demon would appear.

  The smoke thickened, and the humming grew more intense. Andras knew her guest was now on the edge of a terror so profound he might be unable to move. From past experience, she expected to see the subtle movements of the demon from within the deepening red smoke. But a bright light pierced the mists and shot into the air like a white funnel cloud. For a moment, it filled the entire cave with light as if lightning had struck.

  Andras’s breath caught. This had never happened before. Samantha’s own fear matched her mother’s, for she knew something was happening that shouldn’t—that couldn’t—be happening.

  From the base of the mound, a bright crown of gold rose, followed by the wearer. Though in the shape of a man, she feared some god or angel of light was manifesting itself. It wa
s not Botis. He had never appeared in this manner before.

  The eyes of the being of light locked on Andras, and she stepped back in a terror that almost caused her knees to buckle. Who was this being? What was happening? And more importantly, was it under her control?

  If it was a demon, it would inquire of her, would swear at her and threaten her—all signs she held it in her power. This being, however, remained silent, and with a frightening majesty, stared at her and then at the old man behind her.

  Andras beheld the old man, no longer stooped, but standing erect—his gray hair dark and curled, and his raiment no longer so ragged. The light of the mysterious being pierced the disguise of the supposed old man and showed him as something else. He had thrown his arm across his eyes in fright. Andras turned back to the specter on her dark altar as it pointed past her and spoke the name, “Saul.”

  Andras turned on the man, her eyes wide with fear and fury. She screamed at him. “The Hebrew King? Why hast thou deceived me? Thou art the king of those craven Israelites. It was thou who drove the witches out! Thou art the very Saul! Yet thou comest to me for my art?” She was ready to curse the man with her power.

  From behind his arm, refusing to look with his own eyes, the king implored, “Fear me not, woman. Be not afraid. Only tell me what thou seest.”

  What she had seen had frightened her, and with her fear came an intense anger. She wanted to destroy this Saul, this king of the Hebrews, but she, nevertheless, turned back to the vision before her. “I saw a god, one of thine, ascend out of the earth.”

  Saul breathed rapidly and sweat rained down his face. He shook in fear, his arm still cast before his eyes. “Tell me how he appears.”