The Song of Hadariah: Dybbuk Scrolls Trilogy: Book 1 (Dybbuk Scrolls Trillogy)

by Alisse Lee Goldenberg

  Carrie shrugged off the warning. “I used to go camping all the time back home,” she said. “I think I can handle it.” She turned and slipped through the trees, vanishing from their view into the darkness.

  Carrie walked among the branches, turning her flashlight on the virtually invisible trail. She winced as the beam of her flashlight flickered and went out, leaving her in a dim light that barely illuminated her path. She cursed under her breath. She should have paid more attention as her light had grown dimmer. A few feet in front of her, Carrie could just make out the mouth of a cave. She swallowed hard, her heart hammering in her chest. Questioning her decision to go exploring on her own, Carrie thought back to their guide’s odd behaviour and quickly brushed aside all doubts she had. Pushing her shoulders back, Carrie took a deep breath, strode into the cave’s gaping entrance, and was instantly swallowed by the darkness inside.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Ha Ivdah et ha Chamtzah

  Carrie took a few shaky breaths, trying in vain to calm her nerves. The darkness within the cave ate away at what little courage she had left. She had never been a real fan of the dark. She’d slept with the lights on until she turned twelve years old. Even now, at the age of seventeen, being alone in the dark made her skin crawl. Her imagination filled in all the details her eyes couldn’t see, and what she conjured up in her mind was anything but inviting.

  Standing alone in the cave, Carrie shuddered. She could almost feel imaginary insects crawling on her arms. She kept rubbing her hands over them, trying to brush them off, trying to convince herself that they weren’t really there. She tried to turn her flashlight back on, desperately hoping it would work. But it was a fruitless effort. The batteries were dead. Carrie began to hyperventilate. She could feel the darkness closing in around her, threatening to crush the air from her lungs. She wanted to turn back and rejoin her friends but decided to stand fast, face her fears, and follow through with her exploration. Part of her doubted this decision. What if what Emilia had said were true? What if these caves really were dangerous? Despite the chance that Emilia could be right, Carrie knew she couldn’t leave without finding out the truth.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Carrie noticed a small flickering light. She gasped in surprise. That definitely had not been there before. She was sure of it. Carrie turned and started to walk toward the light, inching slowly forward, not wanting to stumble in the dark. She gingerly reached out to find the wall of the cave. Half expecting to touch rock slick with slime, her hand shook, and sighed in relief when she touched cool, dry stone. Feeling her way through the dark, Carrie walked on, feeling a growing calm as the light grew stronger. She could soon see that this cave was very different than the last one she and her friends had been in. Rather than the jewel-encrusted walls that had characterized the last cave, this one was very plain in comparison. The walls were made of unadorned grey stone, and the floor was rocky and covered in a light dusting of dirt. The ceiling was dotted with hanging stalactites. There was nothing about this place that seemed even remotely magical, except the flickering light that had just appeared to guide her through the darkness.

  Carrie crept on and reached a spot in the cave where the path took a sharp turn to the right. She took a deep breath and peered around the corner. Her eyes grew wide with what she saw. Beyond the corner lay a small chamber. At first glance, it seemed to be just like every other part of the cave that Carrie had just walked through. However, it was what lay in the middle of the chamber that gave Carrie pause. In the middle of the room blazed a fire, above which rested a bubbling, wrought iron cauldron. Standing bent over the cauldron was the ugliest old crone Carrie had ever seen. Her wispy grey hair stood out in all directions, waving in the steam pouring out of the cauldron. The crone was dressed in brown, dirty, ripped rags. Her skin resembled the bark of a tree, wrinkled and dry. She stood, stirring the cauldron’s contents, clutching her spoon in both of her gnarled hands. Carrie stood silently staring, unsure of whether or not she should approach or make her presence known.

  “Are you going to stand there forever?” croaked the crone. “Why not enter and tell me what it is you desire?”

  Carrie’s heart leapt into her throat. How had the crone known she was standing there? Carrie made a split-second decision, left the safety of her spot, and uncertainly flooded her.

  “Um, hi,” Carrie said, immediately feeling foolish.

  “So you are to be the saviour of our world,” the crone said with a cackle. She left her cauldron and shuffled toward Carrie, reaching out as if to touch her.

  Carrie felt herself recoil slightly as she tried hard not to stare at her approaching. Up close, she could see that the old woman had a wart growing above her left eye. Her right eye was filmy, and it did not seem as if she could see all that well. The crone smiled, and Carrie tried to not show her disgust at the fact the crone’s teeth were all yellow and rotting.

  “My looks repulse you,” said the crone with a sickening grin.

  “Oh no,” Carrie said. “Not at all.” She inwardly prayed she seemed sincere.

  “You are a terrible liar,” the crone said with a rueful-sounding laugh. “But your manners are not bad. I’ll give you that much. What brings you to my cave?” The crone turned and shuffled back to what she had been brewing on the fire.

  “Uh, I came searching for things that may help us on our quest,” Carrie answered. She flushed with embarrassment as she heard how nervous and scared she sounded.

  “Do you seek anything in particular?” the crone asked. “Why do you possibly think the caves contain things that could serve you in any way at all?”

  “We know of many tales,” Carrie began, unsure of how much she should say. “In these stories, which are about your world, the caves in these woods contain many secrets and objects that are useful to travellers and people like myself who are on a quest.”

  The crone nodded to herself. “I thought that these stories had been forgotten by people such as yourself,” she said. “It heartens me to know this is not true. I ask again, what is it you seek?”

  Carrie’s mind immediately went to the shamir. Should she ask about that? The crone seemed to be knowledgeable, but could she be trusted? Carrie paused, hesitating before she gave her answer.

  “You do not know whether or not I can be trusted,” the crone said, nodding to herself as she stirred her cauldron. “Your caution is admirable and wise. But ask yourself this: how would the destruction of this world be beneficial to me? I do not desire death just yet. So tell me, what is it you seek?”

  Carrie looked at the crone. Maybe she was like the talking tree she had met earlier. Maybe her ugliness hid something good. She decided to take her words at face value.

  “I seek the shamir,” Carrie said. She hoped she sounded confident and sure.

  “Clever girl,” the crone replied. “The shamir would certainly aid you on your quest. But why would you think I have it?”

  “I never thought you had it,” Carrie explained. “You only asked me what I sought. If you could give me information on it, like where it is or how I could get it, I would greatly appreciate that.”

  “I could do much more than that,” the crone responded. She turned and ran a misshapen hand over one of the walls. A click was heard and part of the wall slid back. The crone pulled a small metal box out of the crevice that had appeared.

  Carrie grinned. She could not believe her luck. Finally, something was going right. She could not wait to tell Rebecca and Lindsay what she had found here. She approached the crone, trying not to appear too eager.

  “No,” the crone said, putting up a hand to stop her.

  “Hey!” Carrie exclaimed before she could stop herself, folding her arms in anger.

  “Nothing comes for free,” the crone said, raising an overgrown eyebrow in Carrie’s direction.

  Carrie shook her head. “I don’t understand,” she said. “What do you want from me? I have nothing to trade.”

  “Oh, but you do
,” the crone said. She raised a crooked finger and pointed at Carrie’s neck. “I want that.”

  Carrie reached up and took a tight hold on her chamtzah. “My necklace?” she asked. “You want to trade the shamir for my necklace?” She was almost afraid to hear the answer.

  The crone hungrily eyed Carrie up and down. “That is a powerful charm you wear around your neck,” she said. “It contains much protective power.”

  Carrie shook her head. Her necklace was her most prized possession. She could not possibly give it up. Not for the shamir. Not for anything. There had to be something else she could give this woman.

  “What about my flashlight?” she tried. “You could make light without lighting a fire. It would be so much easier for you.”

  “A tempting offer,” the crone said, leering at Carrie. “But not what I want. You must ask yourself, girlie, how badly do you want—how badly do you need—this shamir?”

  Carrie shifted her weight from foot to foot. “I can’t,” Carrie said in desperation. “I couldn’t possibly give up my necklace. My bubbie gave it to me. She died a few years ago. It means the world to me.”

  “My world means the world to me,” the crone coldly replied. “I cannot give the shamir away for free. The choice is yours. You decide: the necklace or the shamir.”

  Carrie’s head was spinning. She had no idea what to do. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She did not feel as if she could just give up her chamtzah, but if she didn’t, would she be able to find another shamir? Even though Rebecca had told her about the possibility of there being multiple shamirs, she knew that this was not a certainty. How could she possibly pass up this opportunity? They needed this shamir. She felt that she could not, in good conscience, let this chance slip away. She could not let down her friends, or this world.

  “I’ll do it,” Carrie said quietly. She reached up with shaking hands and fumbled with the clasp a few times before she managed to undo her necklace and took it off. She walked over to the crone, hand out. “Here, it’s yours.” Her voice shook with emotion. She hoped she did not appear weak in front of this woman, for even though she seemed old and physically feeble, there was something about her that radiated power.

  The crone smiled and licked her lips. “Good choice, little girl,” she said, taking the necklace. The crone lifted it to her good eye and examined it closely. “Yes,” she said. “Very nice indeed.” She took the metal box and handed it roughly to Carrie. “Here is your prize. Do not open it until it is needed. Aim it only at what you wish to tunnel through. Heed my words on this. A shamir is not always so easy to come by and once used will likely run from you. Use his power wisely.”

  “Thank you,” Carrie said. She took the box from the crone, took her pack off her back, and bent to put the shamir inside. When she looked up to thank the crone once more, she was surprised to see that both crone and cauldron were gone. The only evidence that anyone had been in the cave’s chamber was the fire burning brightly in the centre of the floor. Carrie let out a sigh, shouldered her pack, and turned to go rejoin her friends.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chalomot be Choshech

  Carrie was greeted with exclamations of relief and joy.

  “Where the hell have you been?” Rebecca shouted at her friend, hands on hips, worry in her eyes.

  “Don’t you dare run off ever again. If you do, I will have to hurt you,” Lindsay threatened.

  “We were quite worried about you,” Emilia chimed in.

  Carrie studied the princess carefully. She was mildly surprised to see that she was being regarded with the same scrutiny. Blue-green eyes steadily met violet. While Emilia was nowhere near as loud as either Lindsay or Rebecca, she had seemed sincere in her concern over her apparent disappearance.

  “I’m sorry I scared you,” Carrie said to them. “I just got a little lost on my way back. My flashlight died, and, well, all the trees just look alike to me. You know how it is.”

  Lindsay gave Carrie a rueful smile. “I know,” she said. “But you really scared us! We thought you had been eaten by a bear or a wolf, or were lying out there horribly injured, or had been kidnapped by some creatures, or that something else terrible had happened to you!”

  Rebecca laughed. “No,” she said. “Lindsay thought those things. I just figured you’d gotten lost. Your sense of direction totally sucks. You couldn’t navigate your way home from a block away from your house.”

  Carrie playfully swatted her friend. “That is so not true,” she cried, trying to defend herself. “My sense of direction is just fine.”

  “I’m just saying,” Rebecca said. “I remember a time when you got us lost in farm country, and you were trying to drive us downtown. Downtown is south. Farm country is in the completely opposite direction.”

  “Once!” Carrie said in mock anger. “That only happened once!”

  “And what about that time we wanted to go to Canada’s Wonderland?” Rebecca asked, careful to stand just out of swatting distance. “You were nearly at the American border to Buffalo before you realized that you had taken a wrong turn.”

  Carrie rolled her eyes. “Again,” she said. “That only happened that one time. I learn from my mistakes.”

  Lindsay stood by Emilia, laughing at her friends. They had this argument every time Carrie got lost. It happened so often, she had virtually every word of it memorized. She was so relieved Carrie was back and safe, yet she could see that there was something different about Carrie now. Her humour seemed a little forced. She kept reaching up to her neck and then self-consciously dropping her hand, as if she were searching for something she knew was no longer there. Lindsay frowned at her friend, thinking, and then her eyes widened in understanding.

  “Carrie!” Lindsay exclaimed. “Where’s your necklace?”

  “Huh?” Carrie asked, hand flying to her throat. “Oh, I must’ve lost it while I was trying to find you guys. It was old. The clasp must’ve opened or broken or something.” Carrie could not believe how false her own words sounded to her ears. She knew her friends would never buy the story. They knew she would never let her necklace fall into disrepair or get lost so easily.

  Emilia looked shocked. “We must find it,” she said to them. “Do not worry, Carrie, we should be able to retrace your steps. It cannot be far. I remember you wearing it when you left.”

  “No,” Carrie said, a sharp note of panic entering her voice. “There’s no time. We wasted enough of it waiting for me to find my way back here as it is. Anyway, it was just a necklace. Some stupid piece of jewelry. Just a piece of metal on a chain. I can always get another one when we get back home. It’s not important.” She swallowed, a lump coming to her throat. “It’s not important at all. It meant nothing. Just a stupid piece of jewelry.” She felt the sting of tears in her eyes and bit her lip to keep herself from crying. She would not let them see how upset she was. “Let’s go,” she told them and turned and began to walk away, determinedly putting one foot in front of the other, doggedly focusing on the task at hand.

  Emilia, Rebecca, and Lindsay watched her go. Emilia hesitated a moment before following. Lindsay and Rebecca exchanged glances. Lindsay motioned toward Carrie, and Rebecca nodded in understanding, seeing the dejected slump in their friend’s shoulders, and jogged ahead to catch up to her.

  “Hey,” Rebecca said, placing a tentative hand on Carrie’s shoulder. She was surprised to see tears in her friend’s eyes. “You wanna tell me what’s really going on? Why didn’t you want to go looking for your chamtzah back there? We can go back if you want. I’m sure we can find it.”

  Carrie sniffed quietly. She would not cry. She feared if she started, she would not be able to stop. “It wouldn’t have helped,” she said in a low voice. “We wouldn’t be able to get it back. It’s gone for good.”

  “Not necessarily,” Rebecca said encouragingly. “It’s just lost a bit. I lose things all the time. I usually find them too.”

  “You won’t this time,” Carrie arg
ued. “It’s gone. I won’t get it back. It’s not lost. I didn’t lose it. Rebecca, I gave it away.” A small sob escaped her lips.

  Rebecca opened her mouth and promptly closed it again, unsure of what to say. She pulled Carrie in for a hug and held her a moment as she cried. They walked on, and Rebecca was grateful of the distance both Lindsay and Emilia gave them. She knew Carrie would not want their new friend intruding on them now.

  “I understand why you’re so upset,” Rebecca told her after a few moments had passed. “I don’t know what I would do if I lost anything my bubbie had given me. But Carrie, why on earth would you give it away? And to whom?”

  “I met a witch in a cave back there,” Carrie said softly, trying hard not to start crying again. “That’s why I was gone so long. She insisted on taking my necklace as a trade for a shamir.”

  “You got a shamir?” Rebecca asked incredulously.

  “I’m glad I did what I did,” Carrie said. “But part of me really hates that I did it. It was one of the only things I had left of her.”

  “No,” Rebecca said, keeping her arm around Carrie’s shoulders. “You still have your memories of her, and no witch in any cave, in any world, can take those from you. No one can ever make you give those up.”

  Carrie gave Rebecca a small smile. “Thanks,” she said. “Go tell Lindsay what’s going on. I’m not sure I want to tell the story again. Okay?”

  Rebecca nodded and turned to walk away. “Okay,” she said. “But if you want to talk, we’re here for you.”

  “I know,” Carrie said. “Same here.”

  Carrie trudged on in the never-ending twilight, mind riddled with doubts. Could her necklace have been as powerful as the crone had made it seem? If so, had the trade been a horrible mistake? She knew the old superstitions surrounding the chamtzah: it protected the wearer from the evil eye, from those who sought to do her harm. Could they be true? Carrie supposed that with all she had seen, anything and everything could be true. Without her necklace, without its familiar weight around her neck, Carrie felt naked and bare. She felt open to all the evil in the world around her, as if she had a target painted on her body. She remembered with a chill how the dybbuks had recoiled from her when they had discovered her necklace. Without it, they could return and harm her and her friends. She kept finding her fingers reaching up, searching for her chain, as if they wished to twist it comfortingly around and around like they used to do. She found herself remembering how it had been when she had first cut her hair short. How exposed her neck had felt. How her hands kept searching for her long locks, looking for something to braid, to fiddle with. She felt almost the same this time—the same, but somehow much worse. Was the shamir truly worth the price she had paid? She fervently hoped so.