Nature of the Witch

by Helen T. Norwood

  She tried to imagine Bersaba learning magic. At that time there would have been other witches too, so perhaps they all went to Hogwarts together or something.

  Hogwarts or no Hogwarts it was a nice image; witches learning together. It would be fun to have other women to share it all with. She lost herself in the picture she conjured up of Bersaba and her fellow witches and for a moment she entirely forgot what she was there to do. She wondered what they had been like, the Daughters of the Earth. She wondered what Bersaba had been like.

  Suddenly it was as though the image completely took over her mind. She could see the women and they could see her. She couldn't open her eyes and she couldn't clear her mind.

  The women began to chant to her as they had done in Tintagel - “sister”, they repeated over and over. At first she was frightened but it soon passed and she allowed herself to listen and relax. They could have been standing in front of her; she felt at one with them. She wasn't scared when her fingers began to tingle because she had nothing to fear. She let it fill her body and took some deep breaths. She spread her fingers into the grass around her.

  “Grow,” she whispered, “grow.”

  She felt some of her energy pass into the ground beneath her and when she opened her eyes she felt calm and relaxed. That was until she saw what she had done. She rose to her feet and gaped open-mouthed at what she had created. She didn't even hear Mags walking up behind her.

  In front of her, encased in the size of the twelve foot vegetable patch was a little Garden of Eden. Trees had sprouted dripping in exotic fruits and in between them strange and colourful plants stretched up towards the sky. Somewhere in the newly grown mini-forest water trickled as though some sort of stream were inside, which was surely impossible.

  She turned to Mags who was looking equally shocked and tried to speak but words failed her.

  “Not exactly what I had in mind,” Mags conceded.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Summer turned into autumn which turned into winter. Kiera no longer feared her powers, although she was often still surprised by the strength of them. However, she felt that she was in control rather than the other way around, or at least she did most of the time. She certainly didn't cause any more unnatural disasters, and Mags removed the bucket of water she'd had to sit next to.

  They cut down the tropical rainforest she'd created so as not to arouse suspicion amongst the neighbours (although, as Kiera pointed out, it wasn't the 17th century so people's first thought wasn't likely to be witchcraft; it was more probable they would offer her a job at Gardner's World).

  In its place Kiera managed to grow back the vegetable patch, only she made it bigger and better, producing the types of vegetables that won awards at shows. Local wildlife ventured back into the garden. Mags was pleased when the birds returned, but not so pleased about the cats who used her magnolias as a toilet. Kiera, however, liked cats, and so didn't try to do anything about it. One day they even opened the curtains and found a deer in the garden, goodness knew how that had got there. Never mind a Daughter of the Earth, Kiera was starting to feel like Snow White.

  Her biggest and most enjoyable moment came when she learnt the art of telekinesis. It was actually something she discovered herself. They were sat at the dinner table and she was about to ask Mags to pass the salt when it suddenly skidded across the table, crashing into a pot of potatoes on its way, and arrived in her hand. After her initial shock Mags was very pleased at the way Kiera's powers were progressing and Kiera thought telekinesis was the coolest thing ever. Mags warned her not to abuse her powers (in fact, if Mags didn't own a TV Kiera would've sworn she'd been watching a Spiderman film, and had half expected her to say 'with great power comes great responsibility').

  The downside to mastering telekinesis was that Mags decided she had no more to teach. She said Kiera had reached the extent of her knowledge and the student had exceeded the teacher.

  “My job was to help you to come to terms with and control your powers,” Mags told her, “Kitto is best placed to continue with your teachings now.”

  Kiera disagreed and pointed out that, even though Mags wasn't a witch, there was no-one else who knew their ways as she did. However, Mags informed her that the council had agreed it was time for Kiera to meet her Gwithiaz and move on to the next stage of her learning.

  She was even more dismayed to find that the next stage involved moving away from Mags. She would live with her Gwithiaz and Kitto in their house near Truro, which was miles away from the place she had come to think of as home, and the woman she had come to look upon as family.

  Kiera's initial reaction was anger, “It's insane. You want me to move in with two men I've never met. One of whom you tell me is, like, a million years old or something and has risen from the dead.”

  “Even if Kitto hadn't have died he wouldn't be a million years old,” Mags said dismissively, “he has a wealth of knowledge. He actually lived with the witches. The rest of your teaching must come from him and from yourself. You will learn from actually being a witch. There is nothing more I can do for you Kiera, you're too powerful.”

  Mags looked convincing as she spoke but, as she averted her eyes, Kiera could see the pain there. Mags was old and Kiera had imagined staying with her and caring for her in her final years.

  “What if you need me?” Kiera asked quietly.

  “I'll be fine,” Mags forced a smile, “you forget that I lived on my own for a long time before you arrived and I'll learn to do so again. And if I do need you then I'll simply pick up the phone and call, you're not that far away.”

  When Kiera still sat with her shoulders drooped, looking dejected, Mags sighed, “The decision has been made. There's nothing we can do except try and be happy. You'll be with your Gwithiaz which is how it should be. He'll be able to protect you: I'm just an old woman.”

  “I'm quite capable of protecting myself,” Kiera grumbled, “and besides, the Creatures are dead so what do I need protecting from?” But upon seeing worry etched into Mags's wrinkles she tried to gather herself together, and even managed to return a smile, “Okay, I'll do my best but what if we don't get along?”

  “Of course you'll get along,” Mags chuckled, as though the idea was completely preposterous, “there's a reason Mother Nature chose the two of you for this destiny and she doesn't often get it wrong.”

  Kiera nodded slowly, resigned to her fate, “If you think it's for the best then I'll go.”

  Mags rested her hand on Kiera's knee, “This is bigger than us. It always was. You're going to be a first class witch and you'll make the world a better place.”

  “One vegetable patch at a time,” Kiera laughed half-heartedly.

  That evening Kiera lay in bed and contemplated the future. The date had been set. In two days she would leave Mags and travel to stay with the Gwithiaz, her Gwithiaz; some man she had never met but that she was now destined to spend the rest of her life with. What would they do? What would they talk about? What if they had nothing in common?

  She had other troubling thoughts too. What exactly was her job now? Yes, she was a witch but what did that really entail? Was she expected to live her life growing impressive vegetables and talking to the sun and moon (bearing in mind that if the stories were true then she was looking at an eternal life or at least a very long one)?

  She just couldn't quite fathom how it would all work and what being a witch actually looked like. She found herself wishing (and not for the first time) that she wasn't the only one of her kind. She felt the pressure and the weight of expectations upon her. 'You'll make the world a better place' Mags had said. She hoped rather than believed that this was true.

  She enjoyed the times when she sensed the witches of old were with her. It didn't happen often but on occasion she would feel their presence and it was reassuring. She liked hearing them call her 'sister', liked the emotions it evoked, the sense of belonging.

  Despite the fact that not many people knew of the existence of the
witches, Kiera felt that people were looking to her now, people of past and present and she carried their hopes and dreams along with her own.

  Over the next couple of days Kiera tried to simply enjoy the last of her time alone with Mags, and she knew that Mags was doing the same. She savoured the moments in the evening when they sat in the living room next to the open fire and looked at books together. They relaxed together in the garden, weather permitting, and chatted about how the flowers were doing and what needed planting before spring. They laughed as they cooked meals side by side in the kitchen. Kiera knew she would be leaving not only as a better witch but as a better cook too. And she would certainly miss Mags's home cooking.

  Mags gave Kiera some books to take with her. They were educational, mostly conducive to Kiera's training, and explained things like the moon cycle and different species of trees. One, however, Mags handed to her with a mixed expression as though, on the one hand, she was filled with pride, and yet on the other, couldn't bear to be parted with it.

  “This book was given to me by my own mother when I took my place on the council. I always understood that my guardianship was temporary and that one day, when my time on earth was done, I would pass it on to another council member or, if I were lucky enough, I would give it to a Daughter of the Earth herself. In all honesty I always imagined that it would be my own daughter that I gave the book to, as she took my place, just as I took my mothers. Who knows, maybe one day she will. But it is such an honour to be able to place this book into your hands Kiera, not just because I have lived to witness what generations of my family before me waited and prayed for, but because I couldn't be happier if I were giving it to my own daughter,” Mags laughed embarrassedly, as though she wasn't explaining herself properly, “what I'm trying to say is that it feels like you're my own flesh and blood and I'm so proud of you.”

  She held out her arms and Kiera hugged her, felt the warmth of the woman's frail body against her own and wished for the millionth time that she didn't have to leave her.

  “What book is it?” She asked as she sat back and they both quickly wiped their eyes.

  The book was leather-bound and pale brown. Its appearance was old and faded, interesting but nothing fantastic. She carefully opened it and was surprised to see that the pages were handwritten. The writing was looped and flowing and hard to read, written with some sort of old-fashioned quill and with an illegibility that she associated with old writings, or doctors.

  “When was it written?” She asked. “What does it say?”

  “The author of this book is actually someone familiar to you,” Mags smiled and drew Kiera's attention to a name scrawled at the bottom of the first page.

  Kiera gasped.

  Bersaba

  “It's a book of spells. It's not the only book written by a witch, but it's the only book we have that is written by a Daughter of the Earth. It's particularly special because it's by a woman who was the last of her kind and considered to be one of the greatest. It will help you with your studies. From what we know Bersaba was a truly magnificent witch. I hope you can learn from her.”

  Kiera nodded, “I'm sure I will. Thank you.”

  Mags smiled at the frown on Kiera's face as she poured over the book trying to decipher the writing.

  “It will take you time to read through it properly. These spells will show you how to use nature in your work. Bersaba used these spells to help her channel her powers, to help her use them for specific purposes and that is what it is all about. It is learning how to control them, how to put them to good use and these spells may enable you to do that.”

  Kiera was so engrossed in the book that she didn't notice Mags leaving the room. She flicked through the pages. She understood certain words but most of it could have been written in a foreign language.

  She landed on one page though and had to double-glance at the title because it was exactly what she had been looking for from the moment she discovered she was a witch. To her it was the holy grail of spells. Four words from the title almost jumped out of the page:

  'Raising from the dead'

  On Kiera's final afternoon she sat and thought about her time with Mags and how different she was from when she first arrived in Cornwall. Then, her grief for her father had almost been overwhelming. It had been like a weight that she carried round her neck day and night that was slowly pulling her to her knees. Mags had helped her to walk tall again. Mags had shown her it was possible to be happy.

  However, as much as she appreciated what Mags had done for her, things would never be the same without her father. He had been her rock throughout her childhood; he had been both father and mother to her, and he had played both roles without complaining. It was true that as a child Kiera had often thought about her mother, had had moments of jealousy over her friends who had both parents to share their happy moments with, but, thanks to her dad, she had never felt alone, and she wanted to get that feeling back.

  Perhaps it was selfish but she needed that person in her life again; the man who loved her unconditionally, through good and bad simply because he was her dad and that was what dads did. And she wanted the chance to be a better daughter, one who recognised the fragility of this life and spent her days showing her loved ones how much she cared. And now it would be different because she had magic. She could use magic to look after him and keep him safe.

  Besides hadn't it all been unfair, not just on herself but on him too? He hadn't been ready to die. They were supposed to move to Cornwall together. One day he was meant to walk her down the aisle and watch his grandchildren grow up. All that had been cruelly taken away from him, so if she had the means to put it right and bring him back to her, then surely it would be wrong not to.

  Mags was out at a local market and had left Kiera to pack her things. She smiled as she remembered that when she had arrived she'd only had a rag doll and a couple of photos. At least now she had a bit of luggage to take with her.

  As she recalled her first month in Cornwall and how low she had felt, she thought of Stacey. Stacey had been good to her, had befriended her when she'd really needed one, and she felt guilty for just taking off. She had sent a message to the supermarket where she worked, but she really should've said goodbye.

  On a whim Kiera decided to visit her and so headed off to the nearest bus stop. After one wrong bus, three correct buses and a short walk Kiera arrived outside Stacey's flat. She knew in vivid detail about one old lady's bunions and had come to the conclusion that she really needed to learn how to drive. After all, she was in the process of mastering witchcraft so how hard could driving be?

  Kiera knew where Stacey lived because they had stopped there after Tintagel so Stacey could let her cat out. She opened the door and climbed up one flight of stairs. The stairway was peeling and faintly smelt of urine. She knew that most of Stacey's earnings went on looking after her elderly mother, whom Stacey spent her spare time caring for. It sounded as though Stacey's mother was very ill and pretty much bed-ridden, so the fact that she had made time for Kiera as well as working and caring for her mother meant a lot. She was glad she had decided to come and say thank you.

  Stacey's door stood out in contrast to the state of disrepair the rest of the building was in. It was freshly painted in dark blue and had her flat number in shiny letters in the middle- 1a. She rang the bell and was relieved when the door opened. She hadn't made the journey in vain. Stacey was both surprised and pleased to see her.

  Kiera followed her inside and immediately began to try and explain her sudden resignation from work and lack of communication.

  “After my flat collapsed…” Kiera began.

  “I know!” Stacey exclaimed. “Wasn't that awful? I hear people are suing the council or the landlord or someone. You should sue, you could've been killed.”

  “Yes well, after it happened,” Kiera continued quickly, “an opportunity came up that I just couldn't pass on. I'm sorry I haven't been in touch and I just wanted to say thank you for
taking me out on my birthday.”

  “You're welcome,” Stacey said smiling, “Tintagel's not particularly my cup of tea, too many steps and not enough pubs! But despite that, it wasn't a bad day. I'm sorry you had a funny turn at the end though, and then there was that storm which just came out of nowhere, but I'm glad it didn't spoil your day.”

  Stacey put the kettle on and they sat and chatted about nothing in particular. Apparently one of the checkout girls had started seeing a guy on fruit and veg, and apparently the girl on the bakery had fallen out with the trolley attendant because she thinks he likes the girl from the freezer section. Once Kiera had finished her tea and caught up on the gossip she excused herself and headed back to the bus stop. She was glad she had visited; it had been a pleasant afternoon.

  Darkness fell. He waited and watched. People passed by him so close that he could've touched them, reached out and ripped out their heart in a second if he'd wanted. But they were lucky. He wasn't here for them. Their breath rose in wisps of smoke as they hurried along, eager to get into the warm. Lights went out in windows around him and the darkness grew thicker.

  He preferred the night, especially when hunting. Darkness was his friend although he didn't need it. He knew how to be invisible. He could hunt day or night and never be seen. He had had years of practice, centuries in fact.

  He made his way silently across to the building. The witch was lucky, it wasn't her time yet. But that didn't mean he couldn't enjoy himself. He had a message to send.

  A freshly painted dark blue front door- 1a. He was looking forward to that moment, the moment they realised what was about to happen. He created a fear in his victims that was nearly tangible, a fear so strong he could taste it. He relished in their fear. It was almost as satisfying as the kill itself. He hoped he got to taste it before she died.

  He wasn't disappointed.