Origins

by Cate Tiernan

  I held the fire within me, held on to the desire to blast her in the face. “You haven’t seen the end of me!” I shouted. “You will not have Diarmuid, and you will pay for foiling our plans.” Siobhan laughed. It was a cruel, cold sound that seemed to dance on the summer breeze. She was still laughing when she turned away and strode off. Even from behind, her long neck and pale beauty were regal and comely. I wished she would shape-shift into a fat swan and fly away! There in the center of the road, I stretched my arms out to the Goddess and lifted my face to the sky. I was so frustrated! Why did I keep losing my love at every turn? Despite Diarmuid’s weaknesses, I knew the Goddess intended us to be together. I knew he was destined to be a father to the child in my womb.

  The moon above me was ringed with a watery halo—a sign of disruption. As I watched, it moved like a ring of oil, snaking in and out. A ring of madness. It made me wary. Nothing in the air tonight was reliable. It was a moon of illusions and interruptions. I half expected the ground beneath my feet to buckle and give way, dropping me deep into an earthly grave. Oh, what was I doing, suffering hysterics here in the middle of the road, where murderers, thieves, and disapproving Christians could come along at any second? Overwhelmed, I moved off the road to hide behind some bushes, pressed my palms to my face, and began to cry. It was too much to bear—losing my love again! And it hurt all the more now that he knew of our child. He was not just turning against me: he was rejecting the tiny babe in my womb! I was on my knees, sobbing, when I sensed another blood witch in the brush behind me. I turned and stared into the darkness, using my magesight. Aislinn, the young witch from Síle’s coven, was closing in on a rabbit. She leaped into a patch of watery moonlight, trying to catch it, but the

  animal slipped away at the last second.

  She was probably on her way home from the Lughnassadh circle, but what was she doing trying to catch a rabbit? “Aislinn?” I called through my tears. “What are you doing?” Could she be trying to capture a creature to spill its blood in a dark spell? “Oh, just having a game with the creature,” Aislinn said, closing the distance between us. Her mouth twitched a bit, making me wonder if my suspicions were correct. “What say you, Rose? Your ma said you were ill, but here, collapsed along the road?” She hurried over and helped me to my feet. “Can you walk?”

  “I think so,” I said, “though I have nowhere to go now that . . .” A new wave of hysteria came over me, and I choked on my words.

  Aislinn patted my back. “Come now, Rose. I’ve never seen you in such a state. We must sit.” She led me to a fallen log, where we sat amid the fireflies. “We missed you at the circle tonight, and I know your ma was worried, though she made your excuses, claiming that your sickness had arisen once again. I sense that it is not sickness that kept you away, but some other distressing matter.”

  As she talked, I dried my eyes with the hem of my summer skirt. When she pushed back her red hair, I noticed that she had inscribed runes of plant dye on her forehead as part of her devotion to the Sun God. I gasped. It was typical Aislinn, but Reverend Winthrop of the village would have her hanged for the pagan practice if he saw the markings. It seemed as though she were risking her life to flaunt her devotion to the Goddess. Aislinn had always been a rebel, and I found much of her behavior shocking. I was not sure that I could trust her, but she was a member of my coven, and at the moment I had so few choices. “You have guessed right,” I told her. “It seems I am caught in a terrible love triangle, and I have spent the evening grappling with a vicious Vykrothe girl who intends to steal my love away!” Her face was awash with moonlight and interest, so I told her of my sorrows. Of my love for Diarmuid despite our clan differences. Of his intentions to run away with me. Of Siobhan’s interference. I managed to exclude mention of my baby, not wanting to give Aislinn more than her share of sordid details. And it seemed that her ardor was fired by the situation alone. “Yet another example of the other clans conspiring against us!” she railed. “Oh, you poor girl! To be the victim of their hatred.”

  I felt new tears slip down my cheeks at her words. At the moment I didn’t care so much about the hatred among the clans, I just wanted Diarmuid back. “I don’t blame you for crying,” Aislinn said. Her red hair fell over one cheek like a thick veil as she leaned toward me. “It’s a heavy burden upon your shoulders now, made all the worse by the fact that your ma doesn’t understand at all. She keeps telling Wodebayne folks to lie down while the other clans trample over us!”

  I sniffed, surprised that Aislinn understood how difficult it was to be the daughter of a high priestess, especially one with such strong views. Although the Wodebaynes had endured bigotry throughout my life, my mother had never wavered from her position of peace among the clans. I wondered about Ma now. She would be annoyed at my disappearance. But her true fury would pour out when she learned of my love for a boy from another clan and of my pregnancy. Pressing a hand against my belly, I realized I would have to return to Síle tonight. It was late, and it would be far too dangerous, not to mention foolhardy, for me and my babe to try to make the journey into Lillipool tonight.

  Oh, how had I gotten myself into such a position? “You cannot let this matter rest,” Aislinn said, her eyes lit with determination.

  “Aye, my heart will not let me.” Nor will the child inside me, I thought as I slid off the log.

  “You must fight back,” Aislinn went on. “Síle and her coveners keep trying to tamp down the fires, but there’s no quenching the blaze now. The other clans have struck the first blows, and now it’s up to us to show them the strength of our magick. We have the power to punish the other clans. Why don’t we use it?”

  “Indeed.” For once I agreed with Aislinn. I had borne so many slights as a result of hatred against the Wodebaynes. It was all too much. I could barely hold my head steady as I started to trundle home.

  “I will see you home,” Aislinn said, slipping an arm around my waist. “We’ll talk more when you’re feeling better.”

  Grateful for the firm hand at my waist, I tried to concentrate on making my way home. What would I say to Ma when I got there, and how would she react? I meandered up the path to Ma’s cottage cautiously, expecting her to fly out the door and have at me. But the cottage was silent and dark, and when I opened the door, I saw that Ma was not there. I stepped inside the shadowed house and slipped off my shoes, greatly relieved. Sleep could not come soon enough. Wanting nothing more than to fall into bed, I removed the girdle at my waist and slipped off my light summer gown. Standing before the washbasin, I tipped the water pitcher over it to rinse my face and hands . . . And out hopped a frog.

  I shrank back. A frog? In the cottage? As I went to light a candle from the fire, I heard a croak. And when I turned back toward the room, I saw them—frogs everywhere! Bumpy, spotted frogs dotted the floor, rode the chairs, perched on the bed. I shrieked. They were surrounding me! How had they gotten in here? Feeling as if I had nowhere to turn, I grabbed the broom, threw open the door, and began to coax them out. “Begone!” I said. “Back to where you belong!” I didn’t want to harm the Goddess’s creatures, but their presence unnerved me. I scooted them off the bed, pushed them from the chairs, swept them across the floor. The fat, slimy creatures burped in response. I swung the broom, sending them hopping. “Begone!” I cried through tears of frustration. As I shooed out a tiny creature who seemed determined to turn back, I noticed a lantern bobbing along the path. It was Ma. Her face seemed placid, even amused as she ventured closer for a better look. She eyed the creatures now dotting the path to our cottage. “Frogs?” “The cottage was riddled with them when I returned.” “What sort of infantile spell is this?” she asked, stepping aside as a frog skittered out the door. A spell! Of course. ’Twas a spell from Siobhan, the wicked wench. “I haven’t seen the likes of it since I was a young girl,” Ma said. “ ’Tis a silly little thing, usually in a child’s Book of Shadows.”

  I stopped sweeping as a tear rolled down to my chin and fell, plopping on
to a frog. Suddenly something inside me snapped, and my tears turned to laughter. The tear-struck creature hopped out the door, croaking its complaint.

  Ma laughed, too, and we fell together, embracing in the midst of the ludicrous scene. Soon after, we recovered enough to shoo the remaining frogs out the door. As Ma moved about with the lantern, checking the corners of the cottage for stragglers, she spoke. “I have been worried about you. I was just out searching, knowing how unlike you it is to miss a Greater Sabbat. Are you ill?”

  “’Tis terrible, Ma,” I said. “Though I am not ill.” I sat down at the table and told her. I told her

  how I had fallen in love with someone from another clan, another coven, and how I had lost my

  Leapvaughn love because of his arranged marriage to a Vykrothe. I told her everything—omitting only the mention of the babe, for ’twould be too much to lay upon her in one sitting.

  “ ’Tis no wonder I’ve been concerned,” Ma said. “I knew you were carrying a heavy load these days, though I did not know the specifics.” She stood up from the table and went over to her cupboard of magickal things. “I must admit, Rose, I was quite alarmed to discover this just before I left for the Sabbat.” From the cupboard she removed a white satchel. No, not a satchel—a white cloth. She lifted it to reveal the two poppets I’d made! But they were no longer bound together with red ribbon! They were separated. Ma placed them on the table between us. “Where did you find these?” I asked.

  “On the floor.”

  They must have dropped out of the rafters! And Ma had been the one to cut them apart. “Why did you meddle with them?” I asked. “Why did you foil the magick?” “I was going to leave them together until I noticed the runes you’d embroidered upon them.” She held up the one that said Diarmuid. “You put a boy’s name on this! Truly, Rose, you know it’s wrong. I’ve said that time and again. This is dark magick, and I’ll not have it coming from my daughter, or any Wodebayne, if I can prevent it.” The sight of the unbound poppets frustrated me so, I barely heard her words. So my spell had worked until Ma had discovered the dolls and separated them. I felt fresh anger, this time at Síle. She was putting her beliefs about magick before me. And what of Diarmuid’s own love for me? Was it not strong enough to see our marriage through without help of my magick? It was all so confusing. “Rose . . .” Ma’s voice interrupted my thoughts. “You’re not listening! You have no right to tamper with that boy’s destiny! It may seem like ’tis the easy way out, but your intrusive spell will come back to haunt you—threefold! And I worry about you tangling with a Vykrothe girl. They are a fierce tribe, and you have a history with them that I’ve dared not speak of before this.”

  “I do?” I winced. “When did I engage a Vykrothe?” “Do you remember your trip to the coast with your father?” she asked. When I nodded, she went on. “While you were there, the rains fell, causing terrible coastal flooding. Many of the neighboring Vykrothe homes and fields were flooded . . . ruined. And there’s rumor that the floods came as a result of a spell cast by your father.” “So Da did practice dark magick?”

  Ma sighed deeply. “I do not think so, but that is how the rumor goes. They say there was an angry confrontation between Gowan and a Vykrothe man in a village inn. As a result, they say, your father cast a black spell upon the village. . . . Hence the flooding.” “Did you ever ask Da about it?”

  Ma looked down. “I didn’t even know of the flooding at the coast until after your da was gone.” I shook my head. “ ’Tis quite a tale.”

  “Aye, that’s what I believe it to be—a fanciful tale.” Ma rose from the table and poured fresh water into the basin. “Now, off to bed. We’ll talk more of this come the morning.” I washed off and curled onto my sleeping pallet. Sleep would come quickly, I knew, as my body and mind were worn weary. But as I drifted off, the image of Aislinn popped into my head. Her fiery red hair was aglow in the moonlight, her eyes wild. “We have the power to punish the other clans,” she’d said. “Why don’t we use it?”

  Because power could be dangerous? But witches wielded the Goddess’s power all the time. Did

  not the Goddess impose her own sense of justice? Besides, I had not cast the spell of frogs. And I had not stolen another’s love away. Diarmuid had pledged himself to me under the Goddess; his bond with Siobhan was a business matter determined by his parents. Could I not defend myself against this vengeful girl? I was merely protecting myself and my babe. Even as my father might have defended himself from a Vykrothe all those years ago. It was all too much to sort out this night. I yawned as Ma came close, tucking a light blanket over me. “Good night, Rose. We’ll undo your spell in the morn.” Mayhap, I thought. Or mayhap I would find a way to cast a new spell upon Diarmuid. I breathed softly, feeling coddled by her love. ’Twas a lovely feeling for now, but I knew it would not sustain me.

  I had reached a time when a mother’s love was not enough. I needed Diarmuid.

  The next day the Sun God sent splinters of sunlight into the cottage. The light awakened me, infusing my body with refreshed strength and hope. I thought of the words from the Lughnassadh rites.

  “Goddess, we thank thee

  for all that has been raised from the soil.

  May it grow in strength

  from now till harvest.

  We thank thee for this promise of fruits to come.”

  I rubbed my belly. My baby had been but a seed at Beltane, but ’twould be a fine child to be born around the time of the Imbolc rites.

  Grow in peace, little one, I thought as I rose from my bed. Your ma will take care of these difficult matters and bring your da to you. That morning I enlisted Kyra’s help in fighting the battle. I knew if I wanted to get to Diarmuid, I would first have to stave off Siobhan. “A minor spell is necessary,” I told Kyra. “Something to scare her off.” After some thought I added, “Something to mar her lovely golden hair.” We were sitting in my sacred circle, trying to remember anything we’d ever heard of dark spells. This was not the sort of thing you learned at the circle or looked up in your mother’s Book of Shadows. “I’ve heard tell of turning a person’s nails black,” she said. “Or perhaps you can send a lightning bolt upon her head?”

  “That’s a bit too much,” I said. “I can’t be causing her serious harm, though I must say, ’tis tempting.” We meandered through the woods, talking about what we knew of herbs and spells. When we came upon a thorny plant, I went over and circled it with my bolline. “ ’Tis just the thing to tangle her lovely hair. Can you imagine Siobhan stuck among a bramble of thorns?” On the way back to my altar I cut a lovely purple iris to give me the wisdom to work a new spell. Working together, Kyra and I swept the circle and consecrated the thorns. Then I made up a chant:

  “O Goddess of Light, Goddess so fair,

  Please bring these thorns upon her hair.

  Let Siobhan know my wrath,

  Let her nevermore cross my path!”

  “So mote it be!” Kyra said, her eyes lit with expectation. Afterward we could barely contain our curiosity. Would our spell be a success? “Perhaps we should go and see with our own eyes,” I said. “Besides, I am due a trip to Lillipool. I must speak to Diarmuid and try to work things out.” Kyra tucked a cornflower behind her ear. “Perhaps we should pay a visit to Falkner at his father’s shop? If he can get use of a horse, we’ll be in Lillipool in no time.” I smiled. “Is it because you want to see the spell or because you want to see Falkner?” A mischievous gleam danced in her eyes. “Both!” At the Kirkloch blacksmith’s shop we found Falkner, who talked his da into making a run to a merchant in Lillipool. Falkner had met Siobhan at market on more than one occasion. “That one thinks she’s the queen of the Highlands,” he said, rolling his eyes. “ ’Twould be quite satisfying to see her get her comeuppance.”

  In no time we were in the dusty Leapvaughn village, searching the marketplace for Diarmuid. It turned out that he was off tending sheep in the hills, but Falkner managed to learn the location of Siobha
n’s cottage. We left the horse tethered near a water trough in the village and went out to the MacMahon cottage on foot. The house was a small affair, overlooking a field of dry heather that gave way to a bog. The shutters had been thrown open from the windows, and smoke rose from the chimney.

  We perched on a nearby hillside, just behind a fallen log. “Is she home?” Kyra asked. “I don’t see anyone about.” “I don’t know,” Falkner said, “but I cannot stay here watching a lone cottage all afternoon. Da’s got work to be done. Besides, ’tis deadly dull.” “A bit of waiting would be well worth the sight of seeing Siobhan in distress,” I said, watching the cottage.

  Over in the bogs a few birds squawked. It was a lazy, still August afternoon. “Perhaps we could take turns napping while we wait?” I added. Just then the wind kicked up over the heather, rattling through the weeds. It swept up from the bogs, bypassing our little hill but heading straight toward the cottage. As it churned, it blew seeds and thistle toward the house.

  The door of the cottage swung open, and Siobhan flew out in a fury. “There she is!” Kyra cried.

  With her skirts gathered high Siobhan raced about the cottage, trying to shutter the windows. She pressed a shutter closed, but the strong wind sucked it back open. She reached for the shutter again, but dust and thistles and seed clods were swarming to her face, forcing her to cower. The thorny seeds blew directly upon her, hooking onto her skirts and apron. Dozens of burrs snagged in her hair, but when she reached up to tug them out, they pierced her fingertips. “Eeow! Ow! Ooh!” she yelped, dancing about as the thorny seeds flew under the straps of her sandals.

  “Ha!” I laughed with satisfaction. The three of us no longer hid behind the log but sat up for the best view of our quarry.