Chapter 07

Magic Calls

The fire still blazed as tall as a house. In the darkness of night, the sisters still danced around it looking like live shadows. Danced? There was no grace in their movements. They stumbled, flayed their arms as if a puppeteer carelessly yanked on their strings. They foamed at the mouth. One sister jumped into the fire, exiting a few seconds later unharmed. Another followed, and another. A disgusting show of power.

The forty-two sisters came for the magical ecstasy. The uncontrolled festivities were a waste of energy. Tamerad came to the new moon Gathering of Darkness for knowledge. Magic was always strongest in a group setting.

Sitting by herself, Tamerad allowed the magic to melt over her, seeping into her skin, reaching for her soul, and pulling her into a trance. Sometimes, she concentrated on a subject like Sidrea, the greatest witch who had ever lived. The old crone had died over 200 years old. Even though Tamerad could no longer sit in the witch’s physical presence, there was still knowledge and insight to be learned from the spirit of one so accomplished in her skills.

Tamerad’s mind would fold over the witch’s name. She’d imagine the old one sitting with her, ask Sidrea a question, and wait for the answer to come. The answer never failed in its wisdom.

But on this night, Tamerad had been meditating on nothing, allowing her mind to travel where the magic directed her. Then she saw it; but it was so faint, like a spark of light in fast darkness, she thought she’d imagined it. Then it spoke her name, “Tamerad,” as if it knew her.

Tamerad was suddenly, unexpectedly jolted out of her trance. She concentrated on the spark in the hope of regaining a connection and understanding what it was, but in her excitement, the image eluded her.

“What to do?” she wondered. Then she knew.

She slipped unnoticed from the Gathering and hurried along the stone path away from the fire through the forest to consult the Well of Knowledge.

It was a bowl large enough to bathe a child, though no one would dare to do such a thing. As usual, the bowl was empty.

Tamerad pulled her white gown up as she knelt on the kneeling rocks, so old and worn, there were two smooth indentations for one’s knees to comfortably rest. She tied her waist-length, cinnamon hair in a knot at the back of her neck. One strand of hair touching the water could alter the vision and future.

She held her wrist over the bowl of knowledge and spoke the magic word, ”Mockit.”

Dips of blood splattered on the bottom of the empty basin. As if the bottom of the bowl had opened for a spring to bubble up, water began to seep in. But there were no springs in the immediate area, and the bowl sat on a six-foot by six-foot rock slab. This water was supernatural and was called forth by blood.

The water gurgled, blood splashed down, water swept up the bowl as if it might over flow, but just as the water reached the brim, it stopped. Tamerad pulled her arm away, the blood stopped. Her wrist was clean of cuts or scars.

Blood swirled, the water … changed. Tamerad waited for the water to settle as she settled her excited nerves.

“Emotions will cloud magic,” Sidrea had once said in a vision. “Always remain clam and you will always be in control.”

Tamerad breathed deeply and relaxed as she let her mind go blank.
Placing one hand on either side of the brim, she leaned forward getting a full view of the water. Then in the some ancient language of magic, she said, “I have seen something while in a trance. Tell me what it means.”

Her bright hazel eyes studied the water as it turned black, then swirled with colors of sapphire, aqua, teal and orange. Images appeared and disappeared so fast, she was unable to distinguish anything. A dragon snapped at her. She jumped in surprise, but with a blink of her eyes, it was gone, if it was even there in the first place.

Then a pale, trembling hand holding the light appeared.

The hand that wields this magic is unable to control it, Tamerad mused.

Tamerad’s hand appeared and reached for the magic, but the other snatched away and disappeared into the darkness.

I am not to touch the magic. Grave disappointment threatened to distract her. She closed her eyes for less than a second to regain her calm then opened her eyes.

Another hand holding the same light moved towards her hand still held out in the vision.

Tamerad had not looked closely at the first hand, but this one was sun darkened, with short, beefy fingers. A man’s hand. The hand placed itself in Tamerad’s hand. Her fingers closed over the back of his hand.

Again, she heard her name, “Tamerad.”

“I will guide the hand that holds the magic,” she whispered to herself.

Excitement rose up so fast it almost choked her. She sat back on her feet, clasped her hands together in pleasure, closed her eyes, and rested her forehead on her hands. She could barely believe her good fortune. Emotions welled up from her heart and slipped into her mind. Relief. She was destined for something greater than sitting by a fire watching her sisters make fools of themselves.


While caught up in her thoughts, assured she understood the full meaning of the vision, Tamerad missed the rest of the vision in the Well of Knowledge.

Published in: on June 1, 2011 at 11:47 pm  Leave a Comment  

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