Ch 2:Cast A Spell -WOL

Chapter 2: Cast A Spell



         A calico kitten rubbed against Kiera’s leg and then peeked inside the wicker basket. “Basil, sweetie, did you miss me? Do you like what you smell? Herbs for our potion.” Kiera knelt on the cobblestone path, just prior to climbing the two steps to her ancestral home. Basil meowed and gazed up at her. “Silly girl, I’ve only been gone a few hours.” The kitten licked her hand. “I missed you too, my furry little friend.” She scratched under her throat, feeling the vibrations as the cat purred. “Gram visited me.”  Basil tilted her orange and black head, as if understanding her words.  “We’ll begin the next phase together. Summoning Iarrthoir de Solas will take priority over the full moon ritual. The calling will be strongest tonight.”

         Climbing the couple of wooden steps, Kiera turned the door knob and entered the gray-stone home.

She set the basket on the floor and slipped off her sandals. Basil pounced over the herbs and ran down the hall and quickly disappeared into the living room. Kiera gazed around the foyer. Her eyes rested upon the opened door to her right, deciding whether any other herbs would be required for the summoning spell. Everything was either in the basket, freshly picked or nestled within her cupboards in the potion room. She picked up the basket. The pine wooden floor cooled her bare feet. Passing the curved staircase, she glanced toward the silver picture frames adorning the wall. The photos of locations and individuals brought Kiera such happiness when memories kindled her thoughts. A few of the photos also reminded her of past horrors. She feared would shadow the future.

         She paused at her reflection in the silver-framed mirror. Her violet eyes glittered back at her--the same colour as her mother’s and gram’s. Untying her hair, she let it cascade down her back and turned away from her reflection. The touch of the silky strands comforted her. Remembering her mother’s sudden death, followed by her father’s absence, tears trickled down her face. After all these years, she missed her mother with a heart-stabbing pain. Her father couldn’t accept the accident and left his girls with their grandparents. Kiera missed her father as well as her brothers.

         Turning from the mirror, she caught a shadow of movement where the frame touched the glass. Looking back at the mirror, she only saw the reflection of the long hallway. Nothing, not even a creeping Basil. Strange. She was certain there something slithering about.

         Basil pounced at her feet. Kiera jumped. “Where you were hiding? We have a potion to brew.”

         Her dream in the meadow amid the wildflowers had reaffirmed that the time of The Gathering was drawing nearer. The warning about Iarrthoir de Scalhanna had frightened her. “I don’t want Scathanna to inhabit the world, not again. It’s my responsibility to find Iarrthoir of Solas and Loach in order to defend the world, as well as all the realms from Scathanna and Dorchados.”

         A coyote barked. Kiera looked through the window and recognized the straggly coyote standing at the opening of the back wall staring at her. He had followed her home. What did he want with her?

         “I have a potion to brew.” Kiera spoke to her cat. “He won’t scare me. I almost forgot I also need to call Crissy to tell her of the canines return. I’ll call after supper.”

         She set the basket on the long counter and glanced out another window facing east. The wild animal was no longer watching the house. He had disappeared. Kiera breathed with relief.

         Turning the silver butterfly-shaped knob of the upper cabinet, she brought out wooden bowls, then wooden boxes with matching lids. “It’s time for the Summoning Spell. No time for the Full Moon Ritual. Gram had spoken, and I must listen to her words.”

         Kiera turned to the fireplace and with a wave of her hand, lit the kindling and added firewood. She spoke first in ancient Irish. “Dumhan. Aer. Tine. Uisce.” She then repeated the chant in English. “Earth. Air. Fire. Water.” The flames licked the maple wood. Sparks flickered and snapped.

         Basil sat on the high-backed wooden chair. Kiera sorted the berries and herbs from the wicker basket. A few times, the kitten swiped at a leaf. “Do you know what Mom always said about oak?” Her familiar jumped onto the counter and swatted at the sunbeam. “You’re correct. Mom said that acorns and oak leaves represent the elements of earth and air.” Basil licked her paw and then peeked into the basket. “Do you want an acorn?” Kiera reached in and retrieved a single nut and rolled it to Basil. She caught it between her paws and meowed.

         Kiera gathered the remaining acorns and dropped them into one of the smaller wooden bowls. “I’ll put this on my bookcase, later.”

         She crushed the dried oak leaves into crumbs and then sprinkled them into a wooden box. She tore smaller pieces of purple sage into a larger wooden bowl. From the basket, she sprinkled a blend of mint leaves, heather and lavender petals into the bowl. Four rowan berries were added to the petals. She took a deep breath, and then stirred with a wooden spoon. She whispered in Ancient Irish. The intermingling of herbs and flowers, the berries disappeared beneath the leaves.

         From a lower drawer, she grabbed a perfume-style glass bottle, filled with blue liquid, and set it alongside the bowl. She inhaled the mixed fragrance of mint, sage, heather and lavender.

         “Dumhan. Aer. Tine. Uisce.

         Earth, air, fire, water.

         Purple, red, blue and white

         Beneath the Full Moon

         Beyond the four rivers.

         Our world needs you tonight,

         Iarrthoir de Solas.”

         She carried the elixir and the wooden bowl to the stone fireplace where she knelt on the tile floor. Carefully, she set the bottle on the base of the hearth before pouring the herbal mixture into the cast-iron cauldron. Adding a generous stream of the sky-blue-coloured liquid, she closed her eyes and exhaled into the heavy pot. Her breath whistled. Kiera combined the two previous spells into stronger words of magic. “One for each element,” her grandmother’s voice reminded her as she repeated the spell four times.

         Without slopping any of the contents of the cauldron, it hung onto the iron hook, and then blew, like a gentle summer’s breeze, over the coals. Flames danced, reaching upwards embracing the cauldron. The potion simmered and hissed.

         Kneeling at the hearth, with eyes closed, she visualized the herbs merging. She concentrated and sent power until Basil meowed, signaling it was done. Kiera opened her eyes. The potion transformed to a bright purple with swirls of sky blue. The water sizzled. Blue and purple sparks crackled up the chimney. Fire shrieked. The woodruff spun in the window as both the air and the earth thundered to those who required a reminder that both were always near. Kiera heard the whisperings in the elements.

         “Please, let them know it is time. Whisper and reach out to them toward the corners of this world and the others. The elements call. Seek out all the Loaches and the Iarrthoir where ever they hide and whisper to them. They must know that Scathanna has risen. Evil is coming.”

         The coals transformed to white ash. Turning her back on the fireplace, she scooped Basil up in her arms. “Basil, it’s time for us both to rest but first, let’s find something tasty in the kitchen.” She looked up at the wooden octagonal clock. “It has been a long day.”

         Daytime yielded to twilight. A flash of indigo and purple struck the ceiling and bounced back to the fireplace with a loud crack. She blinked, and it rose up the chimney with a loud crack-gone. The coyote barked from beyond the stone wall. “He is searching for his son, but he won’t find him here. I only wish he’s hidden from his vision. Father and son must not be reunited.” She grasped her hands and murmured the sacred words in Ancient Irish, trembling. A wolf howled.

         At last, Gram’s message had come, the one sent in slumber within the witch’s pentagram. No choice remained. It was time. Sitting at the table, Kiera whispered, “He will hear the whisperings. He will come to the stone wall. He will see the colours in the sky. The Gathering has begun.”

.

         Kiera placed her hand on the oak railing at the bottom of the curved staircase as her familiar, the calico kitten, scurried around her long skirt, leading the way to the bedroom. She crossed the room where the carpeted floor cushioned her steps, and then entered the darkened hallway leading to the room of mystics and secrets. Kiera entered the loft with the cat at her heels. Along the western wall stood a bookcase next to a painting of a forest of dead trees. A second painting of a mountain range adorned the eastern wall. Kiera had spent many nights resting in one of the armchairs, surrounded by silence and moonlight.

         She turned the silver handle and opened the double doors leading to the wooden rooftop deck. One hand relaxed on the iron railing, she gazed beyond the stone wall and over the pine trees to the village below. She recognized the well-known tower at Berwick School and the high wooden peaks of her coffee shop. Her eyes continued to wander over the wooden buildings, pausing at the bridge at the Four Rivers.

         A wolf howled. She caught a glimpse of a gray timber wolf racing along Birch River toward her home. Was the wolf protecting her? Could he sense the evil brewing in the village?

         Someone wandered up the trail, stopping and looking around. What was he searching for and so close to her place? A shiver ran up her arm. She clapped her hands. “Yes. My magic is working.”

         Kiera recognized the slender, teenaged boy, with the wild dark hair – Blaine Cormack. She smiled.

         The wolf mournfully howled and then behind the row of birch trees, the wolf disappeared.

         Basil purred.

         Kiera looked down at the cat. “Blaine sees the sparkles in the sky. The elements whisper to him.”

         Her magical call was answered. Scathanna was getting stronger. Kiera gazed toward the sky and saw the purple and blue sparkles, resembling multi-faceted prism. She was certain that he had subconsciously recognized their meaning. Nevertheless, only time would reveal the truth: Loach, Iarrthoir de Solas, or Iarrthoir de Scalhanna. After The Gathering, Kiera would share the Legend of Scathanna and Ndan de Ceithre. Secrets would be revealed.

         Basil licked Kiera’s leg. She knelt beside the kitten, scratched her head and whispered, “Watch him, Basil. He stands mesmerized. I hope he’s either Loach or Iarrthoir de Solas. I couldn’t have called Iarrthoir de Scathanna. My energy is positive.”

         Blaine looked toward the sky, and spoke in a quiet voice. The warm breeze carried his words over the wall and to the deck. “It is time.”

         “Yes, it is child. It is time for The Gathering. You will be in the middle of the battle against Scathanna.” Kiera whispered.

         He whipped around as if someone had spoken to him, and then turned to the direction of home.

         The warm breeze brushed and tickled against Kiera’s body.

         Moonlight filtered through the opened French doors.  Basil pounced through them and jumped onto the wooden bench at the end of the pine table, and Kiera followed.

         Kiera gazed upon her altar. The five-pointed star, the pentagram, was a comfort to Kiera and those who followed the Old Ways. The shape of the rock infused the elements and their energy into the pentagram, in addition to her father’s love and devotion. Her body shivered slightly, but not with cold nor with fear. Her finger traced the symbol carved into a flat circular-shaped river rock, the most essential object on the table.

          Gazing at the three candle-holders resembling abstract black trees, she struck a long wooden match. With a smile across her lips, she lit the purple taper, the silver candle, and then finished with the gold. The ceiling lights flickered. Leaving the lilac pillar candle untouched, she focused on the ‘Mountains at Sunrise’ painting and said in a whisper, “Dumhan. Aer. Tine. Uisce.” She paused and then continued, Earth. Air. Fire. Water.” She repeated the chants four times, one for each element.

         An athame sat on the table. Kiera touched the handle of the blade, her fingers slipped around the intricate ivy-etchings. Now, the dagger is sealed, and ready to direct her magical and elemental powers.  In her left hand, and the blade pointed away from her body, toward the candles. She chanted and then placed the athame back on the pentagram-carved rock. From the bowl she sprinkled fine sea-salt into the air. She lit an incense cone, blew on the red tip and then smoke appeared. Cautiously, she placed the cone in the mini-cauldron, Sandalwood scent swirled in the air. Her fingers grazed the carved pentagram, grasped the witch’s blade in her left hand, and raised it high in the air.

“Scathanna is growing stronger.

Coyote is searching for his son.

Iarrthoir de Scathanna must not be reunited.

The Gathering must begin.

Iarrthoir de Solas, Witches

Loach, Ndan de Ceithre

Our world needs you all.”

         She recited the incantation four times, one for each compass direction, her voice stronger each time spoken. Breathing deeply, she then dropped to the floor, her palms flat and her athame to her side.

         The cool evening breeze caressed her arm and tickled her bare feet. The candle flames sizzled. Wolf howled carried through the opened door. She sensed the elementals were near as their powers expanded beneath the full moon. Her powers also grew stronger at this time of the moon’s cycle, especially over the summer months. She breathing slowed while embracing the wood of the floor.

         Padded footsteps. A wet tickle on her nose. Basil swatted Kiera’s dark hair.

         “It is time, Basil.” She tapped her little black nose. “The sun is visiting elsewhere to return at dawn. Stars glitter in the dark sky. The moon is the strongest with energy and power, at this time.”

         On her altar, the wax dripped, like cooling rivers down the candles’ edges. The wick curled downwards at the end, ashen black with the tip red hot. The flame flickered back and forth as it swayed to Kiera’s energy drifting in the secret room. The midnight breeze swept through the opened doors, a warm sensation washed over her body and then she drew herself to her feet.

         Standing at the table, she ignited the wooden match, and sulfur once again filled the room. Holding the lilac pillar candle, she spoke at each compass direction, beginning with the north and concluding with the east, facing her mother’s altar. Returning the candle to the table and taking a deep breath, she extinguished all the flames. The whimsical candle smoke swirled out and away, weaving together and dispersing to the ceiling. She stood in silence for a few moments.

         At the antique desk, Kiera assembled four three-inch pillar candles beside four matching coloured pieces of parchment. She lit the first candle. The flame snapped and crackled. Sitting with a black pen in her left hand, she scrawled black ink across the lemon parchment. Picking up the parchment, she said, “Iarrthoir de Solas shall see the message while he slumbers."

         She lit the cedar pillar candle, and with a steady left hand marked the matching coloured parchment with the second incantation. “Loach shall see the message while he slumbers.”

         The cranberry candle sparked and the flame swayed in a circle. In defined block letters, she wrote on the red parchment and read the single word. “Witch.” She took a deep breath and gazed into the dancing flaming and recited the incantation, “The Lost Witch shall see the message while she sleeps. She will return to the coven.”

         The aquamarine candle was one of the most vital of the candles. If this message was not recognized, the world would be doomed. She drew on the strength of the full moon’s power and her inner strength as she put the pen to the blue parchment and wrote in defined block letters for the fourth time. “The missing fourth shall see the message. Ndan de Ceithre to be revealed.”

         Gathering the four coloured parchments and cautiously, she held them above the candle flames in turn and burned only the edges of the parchments. The runic lettering was left intact.

         “You shall hear our call tonight. Under the full moon’s light.

         You shall sense our power. You shall see at this hour.

         Solas is calling. You shall heed our call tonight.

         Witches. Loach. Iarrthoir de Solas. Ndan de Ceithre.”

         Kiera scooped Basil in her arms and crossed the threshold to her rooftop deck beneath the moon. She looked out to the moonlit yard and the night-time shadows drifting among the trees and flowers. She relaxed in the wooden chair, against the wall of her home. Her cat snuggled into her lap. “Basil, the candles will continue to burn as they slumber. We shall absorb the full moon’s energy.” Kiera closed her eyes. “It is time,” Kiera Corrigan muttered in her sleep. She dreamt of The Gathering, glimpses of the coven and the battle woven between yesterday and tomorrow.