The Witch Stone Read online

  A black cauldron bubbled over a fire in a pit hollowed out in the mud wall. Hawthorn sprinkled the herb mixture into the cauldron. sending colorful sparks flying up the chimney. Then she took a long white candle from the table and, bending down, she pulled a tattered mat off the floor, revealing a secret opening in the boards. Using her long fingernails, Hawthorn pried the wooden flap open and pulled out a dusty old wooden box.

  The box had been in her family for countless generations. It had a crescent moon carved on the lid along with drawings of the moon’s phases. She placed it on the table, opened the lid. A faint spicy smell greeted her from within the box. Inside the box were small bunches of dried herbs. Hawthorn put her hand in the box and fumbled around until she pulled out a small soft leather pouch threaded with sinew and a large book. Hawthorn marveled at the site of the ancient grimoire. She ran her hand over the leather. Carvings of moons, stars and oak leaves adorned the cover. She dropped the book onto the table with a bang and emptied the contents of the pouch in her left hand. A luminous moonstone globe shone brightly in her palm.

  She wrapped her fingers around the stone and closed her eyes. The power from the moonstone made her quiver so she knew it was the right one for the job. Still holding the moonstone, Hawthorn made her way to a small window covered with a swatch of leather. She pulled down a corner of the window cover, letting in a beam of moonlight. She peered outside. A blood-red circle surrounded the full moon. Their troubles weren’t over. Rowena would need all the protection she could get.

  The moonstone sphere glowed and pulsed as Hawthorn held it up with both hands and pointed it at the moon. The moonstone devoured the moonlight and glowed ever fiercer. She placed the stone on the table and carried a black candle to the fireplace. Once the candle was lit, she took an old iron sensor and placed charcoal inside. Then she sprinkled several herbs from her jars onto the charcoal. Wisps of fragrant smoke rose up in front of her.

  Hawthorn raised her hands. She looked at the book and waited expectantly. The book opened its cover and flipped through its ancient pages, as though guided by unseen hands. Hawthorn smiled. The book stopped on a page. Written on the old parchment paper was an ancient spell. She began to read the spell.

  “Crescent be full and thy sphere fill. Guard her day, guard her night. Oh, ancient ones. Protect her path this and every night. Guard my young one’s journey. Dark Mother, I thank thee. This is my will. So mote it be!”

  Spell done; the grimoire slammed itself shut. Hawthorn placed the infused moonstone into a leather pouch. She took an iron candlesnuffer and distinguished the candle. Candle smoke danced in the air leaving Hawthorn with a smile on her face.

  ∞∞∞

  Rowena stirred and opened her eyes. Soft sunlight shone through the window. For a moment she didn’t know where she was. Her heart thumped against her chest, making her jolt off the bed. Everything that happened the night before came flooding back. Please make last night be a nightmare. But she knew her prayer was in vain. Where was Hawthorn?

  She looked around the small room. The ancient wooden beams had bunches of fragrant herbs hanging from them, and the walls were lined with cluttered shelves holding jars and old books. The scent that filled the air reminded Rowena of baking gingerbread with her mother.

  The thought of her mother stung her eyes with tears. She saw her mother being carried away all those years ago. Tearing and scratching at her captor, to no avail. Isabel clutched at Rowena’s arm from beside her. Blood bloomed where Isabel’s fingers dug into her skin. Isabel’s mother was being dragged away, beside her own. A scream lodged in Rowena’s throat. She knew if she screamed, if she dared to make a noise, she and Isabel would be taken along with their mothers.

  While she never saw what happened, she found out later the women had been burned alive. Set on fire for the crime of curing ailments. What the townsfolk believed was devil magic, was in truth the work of herbal remedies.

  Rowena blinked away the tears, but not the memory. She drew in a deep breath and stretched her arms above her head. She swallowed then poked her tongue out. A taste like damp moss clung to her tongue.

  Then the cottage door swung open and she cried out in fear but calmed down when Hawthorn bustled into the room. A collection of twigs and leaves had made themselves at home in Hawthorn’s long white hair which now flew about in all directions. In one hand she held two skinned rabbits and in the other a basket of plump red berries.

  “It was not easy but I caught us breakfast, lunch, and tea in one go!” she wheezed, holding the rabbits up.

  “You shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble.”

  “What trouble?”

  Rowena’s eyes traveled up to Hawthorn’s hair and she stifled a smile. Hawthorn looked up.

  “Oh, it’s no trouble. I always look this good in the morning, by the way.”

  Rowena’s stomach growled.

  Hawthorn placed the rabbits and berries onto the table, then walked over to Rowena and stood in front of her.

  Rowena glanced at the rabbits. “I don’t mean to be ungrateful, but I don’t usually eat animals.”

  Hawthorn blinked. “You didn’t seem to mind it last night when you scoffed down me stew.”

  “I-I thought that was vegetable stew.”

  “It was. Vegetable with bits of chicken scattered about.”

  Rowena’s belly lurched.

  “Come on. A mouthful of bread every now and then isn’t enough to keep a young woman going.” Hawthorn grinned. “I’ll tell you what, I’ll cook a big meal and you can decide if you want to eat it.”

  Rowena nodded. “At least let me help.”

  Hawthorn took a very sharp knife out of the leather sheath that hung from her belt. “Since you like vegetables so much, how about you chop em up.

  Hawthorn diced the rabbits and plopped them into a bubbling cauldron along with onions, carrots, and herbs. A delicious aroma drifted from the stew and filled the room.

  Rowena sat at the table and watched as Hawthorn continued to throw ingredients in the pot. “Do you know where they are taking the women from my village?” she asked.

  Hawthorn stopped and sighed. “I expect they will be taken to the city.”

  “What happens there?”

  “They will be put into prisons then put on trial.”

  “Like my mother?” Rowena looked down at her lap.

  “Yes, my child.” Hawthorn wise black eyes locked onto Rowena’s green ones,

  and Rowena saw something in those eyes she’d never seen before. Raw grief.

  Rowena’s eyes drifted towards the ornate book sitting on the table. Hawthorn followed her gaze.

  “Beautiful isn’t it?” said Hawthorn, reading Rowena’s thoughts.

  “Yes. I’m quite taken by it. There’s something other than its beauty. It’s…”

  “Magical.” Hawthorn finished Rowena’s sentence for her.

  “It is. May I read it?”

  “One day you will read it.” Hawthorn stirred the rabbit stew. “Rowena, I don’t know if you realize it yet, but there is a very long journey ahead of you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The villagers that were taken last night. They need your help. You cannot imagine what is happening to them.”

  “What’s happening to them?” Rowena's throat tightened.

  “First, they will be tortured until they admit they are witches. If they admit it, they will be burnt at the stake.” Hawthorn lowered her head, closed her eyes.

  Rowena wondered what type of beast could do a thing like that to another person. “What if they don’t admit to being a witch?” she asked.

  “They are still burnt at the stake. If they don’t die first from the torture.”

  Rowena’s hands tingled. She felt like she might lose the use of her limbs at any moment. “What do I have to do?”

  “There’s nothing we can do to save these women. Not their bodies anyway.” Hawthorn mixed dough in a bowl. “But what I want you to do is to
travel to Witches Hill and try to make the last terrifying days of these women bearable. They need to know they will be looked after.” They sat in silence while the stew steamed up the room. When it was done, Hawthorn scooped two servings into bowls. Rowena stared down at the stew. Then she thought of her friend Isabel sitting in some pit somewhere, going through who knew what.

  “Eat up, Rowena. You are going to need it.”

  Rowena nodded. She picked up the bowl and sipped the hot broth slowly. The tasty liquid slid down her throat and filled her with calm. Appetite satisfied, she looked back at Hawthorn who was clearing the bowls from the table.

  “Rowena you must be strong through all of this. You are going to see some terrible sights.”

  “I know.”

  “After you have warned the villagers of Oakwood to get as far away as possible, ask their messenger to relay the message to the surrounding villages. You will meet a man called Jonathon in Oakwood. He is known to the hunters and they trust him. However, he secretly does not approve of what they do and has promised me he will help in any way he can. He will take you to his home and look after you, then travel to CHECK! where the trials will take place.”

  Rowena listened attentively as Hawthorn continued. “You will then be disguised as the sister of Jonathon’s friend, Ronan, and taken to the city where you will be given a job of feeding the women and children who were so cruelly taken.”

  “They will let me go to the prisons and feed them?”

  “Jonathon is going to set you up as a prison maid.”

  Rowena shivered. She didn’t know how she was going to act around the people who intended to burn her friends alive. “When do I leave?” she asked.

  “It is too dangerous to leave in the daylight. The hunters will still be looking for survivors. You should get some rest now because you leave at sundown.”

  Rowena watched through the small window as the sun lowered, leaving a shadowy presence in the forest. Rest seemed impossible as she tossed and turned on the straw mattress, thinking about the journey ahead. Ants marched in her insides, yet at the same time, she was eager to leave. She must have dozed off at some point. When she rose, Hawthorn was nowhere to be seen. Yelling and crashing outside the door startled her. It was Hawthorn’s voice. Rowena rushed to the door, pulled it open and found her yelling at a stubborn looking mule. She laughed, and Hawthorn spun around. Her hair was even more wild than earlier. This time it was adorned with straw.

  “I woke you, didn’t I?”

  “I wasn’t asleep.”

  “Well, you should be able to get some sleep with Jonathon tonight.”

  “Hawthorn! Surely we’ll be in separate sleeping quarters.”

  Rowena smiled, wondering what this Jonathon even looked like.

  “He’s very good looking, my dear,” Hawthorn said, again reading Rowena’s mind. “Anyway, I think some introductions are in order. This is old Buttercup the mule.” Hawthorn turned to Buttercup. “This is Rowena, Buttercup.”

  Rowena laughed and walked toward the old mule and stroked her mane.

  “Hello, girl” Rowena whispered in Buttercup’s ear.

  Hawthorn had finished stocking Buttercup’s saddlebags with food and water. There was enough dried meat, bread, cheese, and mead to last a few days at least. Rowena had plaited her waist-length black hair and was dressed warmly in a long woolen forest green tunic dress, a long grey cloak, and stockings with fur-lined knee-high boots.

  “Are you ready, child?” Hawthorn took a small leather pouch out of her pocket.

  “Yes, I think so.”

  “Good. Take this.” Hawthorn took Rowena’s hand and placed the pouch into her hand. “You are to keep this amulet on you at all times. It is empowered with a protection spell.”

  Rowena shook the contents of the pouch on to her palm and saw the most magnificent necklace she had ever seen. A perfect sphere, it shone luminously in her hand. She stared at the moonstone. She swore she could see movement inside.

  “It’s beautiful.”

  “It is a very special moonstone. You must not lose it.”

  “I will guard it with my life.”

  “And it will guard yours.” Hawthorn smiled at Rowena. “You know what you must do. The Goddess will be with you.”

  Rowena placed the moonstone back into the pouch and hung the pouch around her neck with sinew.

  “Thank you.” Rowena hugged Hawthorn tightly. Then she mounted Buttercup’s bony back. “When will I see you again?”

  “Just know that you will. Good luck, Rowena.”

  Hawthorn slapped Buttercup on the rear and she trotted off slowly. Rowena looked back at Hawthorn and the cottage. For the first time since she had known her, it looked like Hawthorn might cry. Rowena’s own tears had dried up. They were replaced by a fluttering in her stomach. A feeling that she would cease to exist if she didn’t leave right now. She was on her way to help Isabel.

  Darkness fell like a black curtain. So far it looked like Buttercup knew where she was going, but Rowena had no idea where they were. Something rustled nearby. Rowena jumped, almost toppled off Buttercup. Every noise she heard startled her. She couldn’t help but imagine the hunters jumping out at her and dragging her away. She looked around. Was that a man’s shape beside that fallen log? She shook her head. She would drive herself mad if she didn’t get a hold of herself.

  A twinge niggled at her back. She’d been sitting on the uncomfortable, somewhat flatulent horse for what felt like hours. Buttercup grunted.

  “I know, I’m sorry, you’re doing all the work.” Rowena hoped Buttercup didn’t also possess Hawthorn’s mind-reading capabilities. It wouldn’t do to insult her only companion out here in the dark. As a peace offering, Rowena pulled a carrot out of one of the side bags and leaned forward and offered it to the horse. Buttercup snaffled it up.

  They passed an owl perched high up in a tree and the owl’s large scrutinizing eyes followed her as they passed by. Buttercup came to an abrupt stop, almost throwing Rowena off. The owl hooted, making Rowena jump. She looked around the woods. The mule pricked her ears forward, and Rowena leaned down and patted Buttercup’s wiry coat. “Come on, girl. Let’s keep going.” Buttercup stood her ground and refused to budge.

  The sound of hooves crunching over dried leaves. The sound was soon drowned out by Rowena’s heartbeat thumping in her ears. Buttercup remained still.

  Rowena trembled. She tried not to make a sound, but it seemed to her the sound of her teeth chattering would be enough to wake her ancestors. She swallowed hard as a tall hooded rider on a huge dark horse emerged from the darkness. The horse didn’t worry her, her eyes fixed onto the blood-stained hands of its rider.

  Chapter Two

  Now

  Beep. Beep. Beep.

  Brenna’s hand came down hard on the unsuspecting alarm clock. She focused her sleep-blurred eyes on the bright red numbers and groaned; seven o’clock already. She had been having an amazing dream and did not want to wake. It was typical for Brenna to wake up just when her dreams were getting exciting.

  She ran her slender hand across her forehead and wasn’t surprised to find it drenched with sweat. Her sleep had been invaded by the most vivid dreams the last couple of nights and she remembered everything in great detail. It was as though she had been watching a movie.

  Her dreams were always about the same people, Rowena and Hawthorn, and in them innocent women were being abducted and killed. She was saddened but also intrigued and couldn’t wait to go back to sleep to know what happened next.

  Brenna sighed and slid her feet out from under the comforter. She stood up and yawned, stretching her arms high in the air. Sunlight shone in through the filmy curtains covering the large bay window.

  She walked across a Persian rug and out into the hallway. Her sleek black cat Tiddles greeted her with a dirty sock in his mouth. He must have been on the hunt again. She laughed and followed three more dirty socks to her bathroom.

  Her bathroom had once bee
n tastefully decorated in pale peach and had starfish shapes all over the walls. Too bad it wasn’t to her taste. She hadn’t gotten around to painting yet. A large mirror surrounded by gold mermaids hung on the wall. The mermaids were okay, she might even keep them if she ever got around to renovating. She turned on the shower to warm up then looked in the mirror and studied her face. She was sure she could see a new line on her forehead. She looked away from the mirror as it began to mist up from the steam, unable to bear the sight of the dark rings under her eyes. She slipped off her pink satin pajamas and stepped into the shower. Hot water pelted at her face. She hoped the water would wash away her dark circles but knew only a good night’s sleep would help. Turning the water down, she lathered up her sponge with lavender soap. As she washed, her thoughts drifted back to Rowena. She’d seen a resemblance in Rowena to old family portraits and had then decided to look up her family tree. To her astonishment, she discovered she did have an ancestor called Rowena. Brenna rinsed away the bubbles and turned off the shower. No need to waste water.

  Brenna dried herself off. She had to get to Potions ‘n’ Charmz before her partner Maggie arrived. She’d made a mess in the kitchen last time she was there and knew Maggie would lecture her about it if she didn’t clean it up. She threw her wet towel in the laundry hamper surrounded by dirty socks Tiddles had fished out and went to her bedroom to dress.

  She made her way down the wooden staircase and to the kitchen. Tiddles, who had lost interest in his sock prey, waited patiently by the stainless-steel food bowl swishing his long tail. He purred as she filled his bowl with food then she poured some bran cereal for herself and drenched it with milk. She took a spoon and the bowl and sat at her dining table where a pile of letters waited. One letter stood out because Brenna had read it a thousand times. She picked it up and read it again.

  Dear Miss Ravenwood.

  We are deeply sorry to hear about the loss of your grandmother Annwyn Jasmine Ravenwood. We are however glad to inform you about the land you have inherited from Ms. Ravenwood’s passing. She was the sole owner of over fifteen acres of forest including a small cottage. She had stated specifically in her will that this land was to go to you. She was very persistent about this. Please find included the deed to the land and the cottage. You may pick up the key to the cottage from our office during business hours.