Coven: a dark medieval paranormal romance (Witches of the Woods Book 2) (15 page)

Above the woman loomed a figure I recognized instantly. He’d thrown off his black cloak, for he would have quickly grown hot from his exertions. His black tunic fitted tightly across his chest, pulling at his shoulders where his muscles bulged. My father always kept himself in peak physical condition, he believed it was part of his duty to his Lord, in case he was suddenly needed in holy battle. His head was bent down, focused on his task. His greying hair fell over his face so I could not see his eyes. His hands on the wheel were steady, unfaltering. He gave the wheel another quarter turn.

“Please,” the woman sobbed, her body stretched so tight that she was pulled off the table by the taut ropes. “I have nothing to confess. I am innocent. You have to believe me—”

“Ah, but we both know that is not true,
demon.
” My father said as he slapped her cheek with the back of his hand. I focused on the room around him, searching for other figures in the gloom, but I could see none. He was working alone down here. ”Your own daughter gave you up as a witch, so there is no use trying to convince me of your innocence. There is only one way out of this torture, and that is through the cleansing fire. Now, speak to me of your evil deeds through this poor unfortunate you have possessed, and tell me who else is in your coven, and I shall cease your torture and hasten your death.”

“I’m innocent! I am no demon!” The girl sobbed, her delicate face screwed up in agony.

Other scharfrichters would have had their way with a witch that pretty, taking her body by force before they ripped her limb from limb, but my father was not one of them. He was too righteous, too pure. When he looked at that naked body, he didn’t see anything to desire -- all he saw was evil. And that made him more dangerous than anyone.

He reached down for the wheel again. My body turned cold. I couldn’t watch this. I stepped out from behind the furnace, raising my sword as I moved into the circle of light.

“Father,” I whispered, my word hanging in the still, silent air, carrying all the weight of my anger behind it.

His head snapped up. His eyes met mine, a righteous fire burned behind them. He blinked when he recognized me, and the corner of his mouth turned upward into a strange, twisted smile.

“You will not use that word in my presence,” he said, his voice calm. “You have betrayed me, and you have been corrupted by this witch you were supposed to be saving. Now, you are an outlaw, a man cursed. I have washed my hands of you and your weakness, Ulrich.”

“I am not weak.” I growled, stepping closer, the sword point still directed at his disgusting mouth. “And you’re a fool if you think that
this
torture is saving anyone.”

“You were always weak,” he hissed, “You let your mother corrupt you, and now you will forget your duty at the first sign of willing female flesh. I knew I should have killed you that day, but I gave in to sentiment. I thought that with her gone, I could remake you as a pious man, a creature worthy of the divine love of God. But your soul was corrupted by her demon, and now it has taken you over completely. You are evil, Ulrich, and you are not my son!”

Ah, a flicker of emotion. I had
hurt
him. He felt my betrayal as his own shortcoming. Maybe I could use that somehow …

Damon let go of the wheel, and rose up to his full height. Even though I was taller than he, his presence still filled me with dread.

“Help me!” The woman on the table screamed at me, her naked body straining against her bonds.

I flicked my gaze down to his belt. He wasn’t wearing his sword. Of course not, he’d thought he was alone down here. I had to keep him distracted, keep him spitting his pious bullshit at me while I came close enough to strike him down. With my elbow I indicated his prisoner. “You claim to be a man of God, but no god could will this. No god would appoint men on earth – men desperate for power, searching for meaning in their own useless lives – to dish out justice on his behalf, a justice based on lies and heresy. You are an
aberration.”

“I should have known,” he repeated, his eyes searching my face, darting to the point of my sword, aimed toward the base of his throat. “I should have known you would succumb to the temptation of female flesh.”

“At least I’ll have lived my life knowing what it is to love!” I cried back. “What do you have? The two people who loved you most, who loved you despite who you are, they are dead! They died because of you!”

“Your mother was evil,” he replied. “Your sister, too. They are descendants of Eve. They were placed in my life to test me, and like Abraham before me, I did not fail. Their deaths will ensure my place in heaven.”

Something inside me snapped. I ran at him, my sword held high, the point aimed at his throat. He was too far from me but I closed the gap between us in a couple of heartbeats. Damon stood still as I came at him, his eyes boring into mine, unblinking, his face passive. His statue unnerved me; he was so confident in the face of my attack. Was there something I didn’t know?

At the last second, just as my blade was about to drive home, Damon lunged to the side, and flung up his blade to deflect my thrust. His drawn sword had been obscured by the folds of his tunic, and when he’d seen me, he’d deliberately angled his body to the side to hide it.
I should have known. I should have anticipated …

As our swords clashed, I realized I was in a bad position. My brash attack had cost me my advantage. Now I was on the defensive, blocking his blows as he came at me slowly. He was a master swordsman, and he wasn’t going to lose his calm. Instead, he took his time, waiting for me to make a mistake: a single hit that landed too high, a step that wasn’t as precise as it should have been. He would keep on coming as my mistakes compounded, and then he would have me.

“You are tiring, son.” Damon sneered, as our blades pressed against each other, mine an inch too low. He had me; he could slide up the blade and cut me before I had the chance to deflect the blow. He knew it, and he knew I knew it. “Will you surrender to me now, and grant your soul redemption? I will drive out your demons, and you can go to the next realm as a pure man.”

“I’ll see you in hell,” I growled, as I flung myself forward, my elbow flying up toward his nose. He hadn’t expected it, and didn’t move fast enough. My elbow connected with a crack. Damon’s face crumpled, and he bellowed as blood gushed from his broken nose. He staggered back, breaking our bind as he flailed wildly.

I lunged toward him. Damon threw his blade up and manage to deflect my lunge, but my blade opened up a wound in his shoulder. I cried with triumph as I stepped to the right and prepared to attack again.

The woman screamed. Behind me, another door clattered open. “What’s going on in here, Damon?” someone yelled. “I heard a commotion.”

“Who’s that? He’s attacking the scharfrichter.” Another voice cried.

“Get him, you idiots!” Damon screamed.

Feet pounded across the floor. I made one last desperate lunge at my father, a wild blow that he glanced away easily. I tipped off balance, my body swinging over, exposing my side. Something stung my shoulder. At first there was no pain, only a strange numbness that crept down my arm. I heard, rather than felt, my sword fall from my fingers and clatter to the ground.

Something else bit my side. My heartbeat thudded in my ears. All around me, I could hear men shouting, could see the flickers of light as swords cut through the air. But it all seemed far away, as if it somehow didn’t affect me at all.

My legs gave out. I fell forward, and hit my head against the side of the rack. Red welts appeared in my vision, and I was dimly aware of some pain shooting through my skull. I tried to throw my arms out to catch my fall, but I couldn’t seem to move them. I collapsed on the floor, my head swimming, my vision a blur of colour and flashing light.

Ada’s face came into view, so clear and real I reached out to touch her. She loomed closer, her breath warm on my cheek. “Stay strong, my love.” She whispered, and her soft lips kissed the tops of my eyelids.

And the world turned black.

B
runhild
and I sat together by the cooking fires. She was telling me salacious details of her recent affair with Catrain, a beautiful auburn-haired woman who sat at the next fire. Catrain had ten summers on Brunhild, but my friend seemed to find this age difference extremely tempting. “She’s taught me so many things,” she gushed. “She has this way of moving her tongue, just so—”

I was only half listening. All this talk of tongues had got me thinking of Ulrich, and all the beautiful, deadly things his tongue was capable of. As discreetly as I could, I touched the place between my legs that had been aching nonstop for the last couple of days. I missed him. I
needed
him. And I still had weeks to wait before I could perform the scrying ceremony again.

Maerwynn clapped her hands for our attention. Brunhild cut off mid-sentence, and we both looked toward the head witch. Maerwynn stood on one of the stone benches, her white shift dancing around her stiff body, her hair pulled up off her head in a severe style, wound with a thin vine that encircled her head like a crown.

“Tonight the moon is waxing, and it is the perfect time to perform a ceremony for our new friends.” She said, her eyes landing first on Bernadine, then Aubrey, and finally me. Although she called us “friends”, that sharp gaze suggested anything but. “We will welcome these three women into our coven by combining our powers for the cause of good. Centuries ago, their line was cursed by an evil man, a powerful witch in his own right who wished to possess the great lineage. He bade them seek out a man every seven days to lie with, or else they would lose their power. He tied them forever to the dominion of man. But no more! I declare that no witch should live in servitude to mere men! We have the power, and we will give our sisters back their freedom. Do you agree?”

All around the circle, the women nodded. Some clapped and cheered. Brunhild squeezed my hand, grinning at me gleefully. I felt light. Did Maerwynn really mean it? Could she really rid us of the curse? If so, that was the greatest gift she could give us.

If she can lift the curse from me, then perhaps she can break the oath that binds Ulrich and Clarissa, and then we could be together, free from any magical intervention. If…

…
if
Ulrich survives.

I didn’t want to think about that now. Not while Maerwynn was beckoning everyone to their feet. The ladies of Haven set aside their empty dinner bowls, drained the last of their drinking horns, and began chattering excitedly about the ritual. “Isn’t this exciting?” Brunhild pulled me to my feet. “We haven’t done a group ritual for nearly three months now, and now you’ll get to benefit from it. I can’t wait to see your aunt Bernadine in action. Catrain says she’s supposed to be even more powerful than Maerwynn herself.”

I nodded, not sure of what to say. “What do I do? I’ve never been part of a coven ritual before.”

“Don’t worry,” Brunhild squeezed my hand. “Just follow my lead.”

She dropped my hand, and tugged her shift over her head. Stunned, I could only stare at her lithe, naked body as she sashayed her hips toward me. I tore my eyes away, only to see to my horror that, one by one, all the women began to peel off their garments. Tunics and shifts were tossed aside, cloaks and stoles folded neatly and placed on the seats. Leather boots unlaced and placed in neat lines. Out of the corner of my eye I saw my aunts pulling off their clothes.

I turned away. There was really only so much my eyes could handle.

“What’s going on?” I cried.

“We perform all rituals skyclad, of course.” Brunhild flicked a stray strand of hair over her beautifully curved shoulder. “It heightens our connection to the goddess. C’mon, Ada. You can’t be the only one in clothes.”

Feeling self-conscious, despite the fact that every other woman was already naked, I unclasped my shift and pulled it down over my shoulders, then over my hips.

“Now what?”

The women began to fall into a single line behind Maerwynn, who led them up the winding paths out of the valley. Brunhild and I joined at the end, and I forced myself to leave my arms at my sides, instead of trying to cover myself. Clearly, witches didn’t share the same shame about nakedness as the church.

We walked briskly through a thick copse of trees. I noticed woman breaking away to run to their cabins, returning again with chests and candles and pouches in their arms.

We emerged onto a large meadow, surrounded on all sides by tall trees. In the centre, at the highest point of the hill, stood a circle of standing stones, at least forty feet in diameter. I gasped to see it – Aubrey had spoken to me once of these pagan meeting places, but I had never seen one for myself. In summer this place must have been beautiful, with wildflowers blooming in the thick grasses. Now, it appeared quite wild, with clumps of snow on the edges, where they had fallen from the trees.

The women entered in one line between two of the tallest stones and fanned out, so that we formed a smaller circle inside the stones. Women stepped forward to place their objects upon a low stone slab near the centre of the circle. The stone had a round hole gouged from one corner, and the stone was darker around that area. It looked very much like a bench the butcher used back in the village when he dressed a carcass and drained its blood.

“Stay beside me,” Brunhild whispered. “And just copy what I do. Remember, the most important thing isn’t that you say the correct words, it’s that your body and mind are pure and that you’re reaching out to the Goddess.”

I nodded, my eyes focused on Maerwynn. She stood at the centre of the circle, beside a stone altar that held several candles, a set of earthenware pots, and several animal bones. She raised her arms. All of a sudden, the women fell silent, as if someone had snuffed out all sound in the grove.

“You are all gathered here to witness this ritual and to lend your power to our plea,” she intoned. “Link arms and focus your mind on the earth below your feet, the sky above your head, and of linking the two together with a great cone of power. Focus on this power rising up from within each of us, encircling our sacred place, protecting us from harm.”

I linked hands with Brunhild and Ryia, and tried to picture in my mind a cone of power rising out from the ground and swirling all around us. I had no idea what power actually looked like, so I pictured it as a grey mist, curling up from the cold ground like the first warm breaths on a frigid winter’s morning. I glanced around the circle at the other woman, saw their faces were calm, focused. Many had their eyes closed. Maerwynn caught my gaze and glared at me. I stopped staring around and stared straight ahead, trying to hold the vision in my mind.

Aubrey stepped out from the circle. She carried a long-handled broom. She began to walk slowly in a widdershins direction around the outside, sweeping the ground in slow, deliberate circles. Maerwynn walked behind her, picking up handfuls of salt from an earthenware bowl and sprinkling these along the ground, just inside the standing stones. Another woman followed behind them, carrying four tall candles.

“Guardians of the North, of the power of Earth.” Maerwynn chanted, as she reached the opening point of the circle, and placed the bowl on the ground. She raised her hand to the heavens, and I saw she carried the short dagger carved with runes that she had used for our scrying ritual. “I ask that you bring your gifts of patience, endurance, stability, and prosperity to this circle. Guard our ritual, and protect our rites.”

Behind Maerwynn, the woman placed one of the candles on the ground, and lit it with the torch.

Maerwynn moved around to the next quarter of the circle, and stopped again, holding the knife aloft. “Guardians of the East, of the power of Air. I ask that you bring your gifts of wisdom, intellect, perception, and inspiration to this circle. Guard our ritual, and protect our rites.”

She repeated this sequence twice more, moving around a new quarter of the circle, and calling on the powers of South and West, of Fire and Water.

“The circle is cast, and the gods are here to witness our rites,” Maerwynn said, walking back to stand beside the altar. “Let us begin.”

Maerwynn looked at me and nodded. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do. Brunhild nudged me. “Go forward,” she whispered.

I stepped into the centre of the circle. As I did, I felt a strange sensation coming over me, my body tingled from head to toe with a new energy, a warmth that wasn’t like fire but more like the soft caress of sunshine on a summer’s eve. I closed my eyes, losing myself in the strange, warming glow. When I opened them again, I cried out, for there, before my eyes, was the mist I had pictured in my mind, curling out of the ground and circling slowly in widdershins, swirling around the women, even pushing its way through their skin, and entering their chests and backs.

Magic. It’s real.
I shivered with excitement.
The Goddess is listening.

I moved slowly through the shifting mist, and came to stand at the altar behind Maerwynn. Aubrey and Bernadine stood beside me, and we linked hands. Aubrey’s eyes were closed, and she appeared serene. Bernadine’s face was stony, as always, and she trained her gaze at the sky. I kept my eyes on Maerwynn, not wanting to focus on my aunts’ nakedness for any longer than required.

Maerwynn called Brunhild and Ryia forward, and the two bent over the altar, adding ingredients into one of the large earthenware bowls as Maerwynn called out their names and properties, asking the goddess to bless each one. Bergamot, hyssop, marigold, wild tarragon, sorrel, some with names I didn’t understand and leaves I didn’t recognize. All went into the bowl.

Brunhild added a splash of mead, and pounded the mixture with a pestle, mashing it into a pulp. When she was satisfied with the consistency, she handed the bowl to Maerwynn, who stood before my aunts and I. She dipped her fingers into the sweet-smelling paste, and swiped lines across our foreheads.

“Divine Goddess, these three women are your humble servants. For centuries their line has been plagued by a malicious curse, placed upon them by one who does not respect our ways, who wishes to take all of your power for himself. We come together today, to beseech you to come to our aid in breaking them free of this curse, that they may freely choose when, and who, to love again. Hear our plea!”

Maerwynn dropped the bowl to the ground, and she raised her arms to the air. She opened her mouth, and a strange sound rose up from within her. It wasn’t a chant, for there were no recognizable words or sounds. It was a strange, barking noise, like an animal trying to fend a stranger from its property. She fell to her knees, her head thrown back like a wolf howling at the moon.

Behind her, the other women in the coven began to sing, their voices melding together into a solemn choir. Their words were foreign to me, but seemed to be the same language Maerwynn had chanted during our scrying ritual.

The mists shifted, swirling faster and growing thicker, until we were surrounded by a milky white miasma. I could no longer make out the women in the circle, although I could still hear their strange ululations. Aunt Aubrey gripped my hand tighter.

“I’m scared,” I cried. The mist crept closer, swirling up into a cone over our heads, blocking out the grey sky above. All I could see with the faces of my aunts and the faint outline of Maerwynn’s body as she rasped out that awful noise.

“Whatever happens, don’t let go.” Aubrey called back.

The singing grew louder, Maerwynn’s shrieks and growls rose in intensity. The mist started to close in on us, pressing against my body. It felt icy cold. Beneath my feet, the ground shook. A roar rushed through the air, pounding my ears. It was as if the world itself were participating in the ritual.

I screamed as icy fingers slid over my naked skin, the touch so cold it burned me. My head pounded from the noise. I could no longer heard Maerwynn or the other woman, just the deep roar of the mist. I saw Bernadine’s lips moving as she yelled at me, but the mists tore her words away. Aubrey’s fingers dug into my skin as the ground beneath our feet bucked and groaned. I pitched forward, falling through the white cloud.

“Hold on!” Bernadine yelled, the last words I heard before the roaring swallowed me up, and everything went black.

I
awoke
on the hard ground. My head throbbed. At first, I couldn’t remember where I was or why I was there, but then, in a rush, it came back to me. The ritual. The white mist. The roar in my head.
What has happened?

My eyes fluttered open, and the scene around me confused me. The mist had gone, but the ground in the circle was no longer lush with long grass. Instead, it had turned black, as though it had been burned. The stones too, were coated with a layer of black soot. Women lay on the ground, moaning with pain as they struggled to their feet. I saw many clutching arms or legs or stomachs, blood leaking from between their fingers.

I tried to lift my head, but my body felt as if it were made of something heavy. Slowly, I tried to roll over, every movement causing waves of pain to crash through my body.

A figure rushed to my side, rough hands grabbing my aching skin. At first I couldn’t see her face, but slowly my eyes focused and Bernadine looked down at me. Her face was as white as a shroud. For the first time in my life, I realized she looked frightened. “Are you alright? Can you sit up?” she reached down a shaking hand to help me.

“I … I think so.” I managed to roll over on to my stomach, and crawled onto my knees. Every movement tore at my aching body. My ears rang.

I leaned against Bernadine and used her frail body to haul myself to my feet. Everything felt slow, difficult, as if I were swimming through a bowl of honey. With Bernadine’s help, I limped over to one of the stones, and used that to pull myself out of the circle. Here, there was still plenty of lush grass. I saw other women in the field, talking in small groups, their faces grave. Several were sobbing loudly.

“What … happened?” I gasped out, the mere act of speaking making me feel ill.