Sorceress of Faith (64 page)

"I said we would stand with the chevaliers of the field in
the battle."

"Of
course," Charlmon and Venetria said in unison. Most of the others echoed
the phrase.

Most, not all.

Jacquar stared at the group thoughtfully, at the apprentices and
journeyfolk seated in the first rows of the amphitheater, others who hadn't
descended to the stage. "Let's go," he said.

***

ORIGINAL CHAPTER 1...

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Robin D. Owens. The text contained within may not be reproduced in whole or in
part or distributed in any form whatsoever OR SOLD without first obtaining
permission from the author.

Colorado, Morning

Ever since those wretched sounds had entered her life, she'd had
bad dreams. She pressed her hands to her galloping heart. Andrew was fine.
She'd spoken to him just the morning before and he'd sounded happier than
usual, talking about the current computer game he was nearly finished creating.

The phone rang and her breath hitched. Andrew? No, he slept in
mornings and lived on the west coast where it was an hour earlier.

Her garden apartment was small, the wall telephone no more than
thirty feet away, but she couldn't summon the strength to rise. Voice mail would
take a message. She sensed that it wasn't someone she wanted to talk to,
anyway. Huh. Must be all that magic Golden Raven had told her was inside her.
Marian managed a weak chuckle.

After her pulse steadied a moment later, she slid from the bed to
pad to the bathroom. On the way, she checked the alcove where her hamster Tuck
curled up in a corner of his plastic cage, a half-chewed piece of carrot within
paw reach. All was well in his small world.

Marian only wished it was the same for her. Today the couple of
big mistakes she'd made in the last year haunted her. Lingering effects from
the dream, no doubt.

The rings of the shower curtain rasped as she hauled it around the
metal loop suspended from the ceiling above the old claw-footed tub. It reminded
Marian of the chimes and gongs that peppered her dreams. She shivered in the
cool air and set the temperature high. The heat would
comfort her, settle the quivering
fear that zinged down her nerves. She sang a ribald song to
cheer herself up. The lovely water steamed around her,
rinsing her body, affirming her life.

Instead of breakfast, she crossed to the built-in bookshelves of
her living room, looking for volumes on rituals.

Golden Raven had mentioned a full moon ritual. To Marian, that
meant a wiccan-pagan ritual, a path she'd followed a while last year. A ritual
was the expression of hopes and a method of focusing the mind on what she truly
wanted to occur. Active prayer.

She hadn't tried a ritual on her own for some time. She'd pulled
down her favorite volume of wiccan ceremonies and carried it to her kitchen
table—desk. After making a list of supplies she’d need, Marian sighed. This
ritual was too important to just be copied from a book. She never liked doing
that, anyway. Prayers or spells or treatements—whatever you called them—
should always be personal. Three
days to draft her own ritual and get the paraphernalia. During the ritual,
she'd set things in motion, ask for guidance for herself and for Andrew.

Perhaps she'd learn how to handle his disease better, improve his
quality of life or extend it.

Since Golden Raven mentioned a teacher, Marian would ask for a
mentor, too.

The universe worked slowly, the right teacher would come into her
life in a couple of
months,
perhaps as soon as the summer semester. She smiled sourly. Maybe with a mentor
she wouldn't make as many mistakes in her life. Her alarm clock buzzed. Marian
hustled to turn it off. Seven-fifteen a.m. Time to dress for her work-study
job. Right before she left, she listened to the voice mail message from her
mother. In clipped tones, Candace insisted Marian call her. She didn't have
time now, but she'd have to do it today or Candace's mood would turn very nasty
and her demands would escalate.

Marian glanced at the
clock and realized she'd missed her bus. She'd have to walk fast and would
still be late. She grit her teeth. She already knew the day would go downhill.

SORCERESS
OF FAITH

ISBN:
978-1-4268-4735-6

Copyright
© 2006 by Robin D. Owens

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and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They
are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the
author, and all incidents are pure invention.

This
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