The Wittering Way

Mystic Books

by Regal Crest

Tennessee

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. The characters, incidents and dialogue herein are fictional and any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Print ISBN 978-1-61929-286-4

eBook ISBN 978-1-61929-287-1

First Printing 2016

9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Cover design by Acorn Graphics

Published by:

Regal Crest Enterprises, LLC

1042 Mount Lebanon Rd

Maryville, TN 37804

Find us on the World Wide Web at http://www.regalcrest.biz

Published in the
United States of America

Many thanks to the beta-readers who helped me decide if the world I’ve built is clear or unclear, believable or too fantastic. You know who you are. And to Cathy, at Regal Crest. Thank you for being persistent. This book was one that needed to be written. Patty, you’re a brave soul. Love you much!

My dedication goes out to Chris who spent so many hours either reading this work or listening to endless confusing litanies about the characters. You rock, sweetheart!

I’d also like to dedicate this book to the women of my family—mother, grandmother and aunt—who brought me up in the way of magic and shared with me their world filled with enchanted creatures from the Isle of Éire.

DaisyFir—Irine (Female)

Paria—Fede (F)

Cleome—Afton (Male)

Avapeony—Kes (F)

Straw Join

MayApple—Ninne (F)

Craghn—Arthfael (M)

Yewsy—Brennen (M)

Pine—Cin (M)

Mint—Freyan (F)

Thorn Join

Olive—Lomhr (M)

RoseII—Cathal (M)

Villia—Thaid (F)

RoseIII—Byrne (F)

Hippa—Ashe (F)

Choya—Uilie (M)

Pear—Lews (F)

Song Join

Aria—Niadh (F)

Capel—Walsh (M)

Lyric—Beara (F)

Mel—Phaid (M)

Adagio—Robin (F)

Lore Join

Holly—Grace (F)

Talew—Finner (F)

Rhyme—Them (M)

Memo—Higen (M)

Elder—Caft (F)

Basil Join

Airgialla—Quest (M)

Pedro—Clery (F)

Lemon—Maol (F)

Saffron—Gewwt (F)

Stem—Kahan (M)

Purp—Hando (M)

Ray Join

Morn—Wood (F)

Ronat—Purth (F)

Signe—Lorne (M)

Blass—Jiff (M)

Cathe—Tupe (F)

Sentr—Mays (M)

Prosee Join

Dot—Carlae (M)

Proet—Anta (M)

Signal—Holin (F)

Ste—Colle (F)

Resin Join

Ambley—Thoom (F)

Carh—Steel (M)

Effie—Lister (F)

Kitri—Span (F)

Givan Join

Isten—Comlie (M)

Stub—Ban (F)

Martry—Saml (M)

Locre—Afran (M)

Outlie Join

Ani—Oombs (M)

Darrin—Turl (F)

Mon-twin—Aidd (F)

Noor-twin—Ild (F)

Peak—Sheer (M)

Frant—Ura (M)

Imi-twin—Doud (F)

Ami-twin—Dowd (F)

Sky Join

Lasse—Kaely (F)

Kent—Hou (F)

Jeren—Silhu (M)

Ceru—Disten (F)

Filem—Beer (M)

DUST MOTES, STIRRED by my silent, frantic movements, rose up and choked me. I stifled a welling cough and continued my protection work. I drew beautiful, flower-like designs, ovals of protection becoming fragile petals at the touch of my nubby lump of charcoal. Focusing on each thick stroke, I lost myself in the working. If I drew my attention away, listened to what was going on in the rooms above me, sanity would elude me. So I focused on my silent vigil, sending positive energy to my parents as I repeatedly mouthed a soothing working.

Air moves

Fire transforms

Water shapes

Earth heals

I began a new row of protective runes just as my sister, Avapeony’s, face appeared in my mind’s eye. As a sensitive, I realized new alarm, knowing that she had to be somewhere nearby. I paused, one finger uplifted as if an antenna to capture this new information. She had been away, at Lore join with her birth friend, Memo. Had she returned?

Abrupt silence descended. I glanced upward, indecision gnawing a hole in my gut as my fammie, my birth familiar, Afton, snuggled close to my neck in reassurance. The silence grew, extended.

My mother had shoved me into the cellar when the Brinc clansmen approached, entreating me to silence and invisibility, no matter what I heard. She’d kissed me gently before lowering the hatch, whispering for me to protect myself. In my mind, I envisioned her opening the hatch. I could feel the fresh air rush in, bringing her lemony scent to me. I closed my eyes, bidding reality to my will. To no avail. The hatch did not open and the eerie silence persisted.

“Go see,” I said to Afton.

He pulled away and whirled nervously, his color yellowing. He wrapped a cloud-like tendril around my arm, connecting. “I hear the cries of my brethren,” he said into my thoughts. “I do not go.”

“No,” I whispered, shaking my head in negation. “Not Irine?”

Afton renewed the link. “And Fede.”

“No. No, no, no,” I chanted aloud as I pushed against the hatch. Mother had thrown the bolt and it was still locked. I suddenly feared that she would never pull it back, that no one would ever discover me there and I would die with no join, my failing Fammie fluttering down to cover my face, unable to properly return me home to Lake Feidlimed.

“Calm,” Afton beseeched, his tendrils stroking my bare arm. “Need calm.”

I ignored him and continued to push against the wooden hatch. Old dirt shook loose and peppered my face. My weak arms were ineffective so I turned a shoulder and shoved hard against the thick, planked wood. It would not move.

“Mother Tree, let me free,” I invoked quietly.

Afton backed away, so as not to interfere with the magic. I made the insignia of the tree with both hands to enhance the working.

“Mother Tree, let me free,” I invoked again as I felt the wood soften beneath my forearm. Thrice would do it, so I took a deep breath and bunched my leg muscles.

“Mother Tree, let me free. Blessed be,” I said forcefully.

The grain of the wood above me loosened as the molecules separated. I pushed upward with steady force, and the bolt slid away from the planks, allowing me to lift the hatch. I inhaled a deep breath and coughed immediately. Smoke. Afton spread his foggy form and wrapped across my mouth and nose, filtering the air so I could breathe shallowly.

Why was there smoke? I turned slowly and saw that Mother’s workbench was scorched and still smoldering, burning herbs scattered across the table and onto the floor. I glanced toward the door of our small, cozy cottage. It stood open, hanging forlornly from one leather hinge.

I moaned and Afton tightened his hold for comfort. What catastrophe had befallen the Widdershin join? I knew the Brinc clan, often led by Signe of Ray join, had increased their hateful attacks on the Morri and the Witta clans, but to do this? To attack another join in such an overt way? I shook my head.

“Irine calls to you,” Afton said.

I pulled myself from the cellar opening and staggered through the common room. “Mother?” I moved toward the sleeping cells, willing her to be there. “Father?” Hope was slim but it was all I had.

The cells were empty, the beds upended, the coverings torn and scattered. I sobbed, feeling Afton tighten in a new attempt at comfort.

“No!” I exclaimed, pulling him from my face. He spiraled next to my head, his color kaleidoscoping in helplessness. How could he comfort me? My happy life had been invaded, sullied.

I crept through the main room and toward the front door, unsure and cautious. “Mother? Irine? Ava?” I paused at the door. “Do you hear Fede now, Afton?”

Afton connected with a slender tendril. “She weeps outside.”

I nodded, unable to speak. Tears swelled my eyes. If Fede wept, then Father’s light had been extinguished. How could this be? We are not a violent people, living our lives in peace and only passing back to Lake Feidlimed after many centuries of joyful life.

I paused at the door and took a deep breath of the fragrant forest air, letting it fortify me. Yet nothing could help me deal with the sight of my parents’ bodies. My father, Paria, had fought until the end, evidenced by the glowing dagger near his outstretched hand. Strange, black burns dotted his skin. He had fallen in the courtyard and now lay sprawled and vulnerable, in a way I never would have expected to see him. His fammie, Fede, hovered above his chest, awaiting my farewell.

My mother, DaisyFir, had fought as well, with her own powerful magic, and her hands still glowed orange from the power she’d shed. Her body had gentled down onto the steps leading up to our cottage, her morning robes swirled gracefully around her legs and hips. She, too, had black burn marks on her neck and arms. Her long, dark hair had fallen across her beautiful face, as though she hid her eyes from witnessing the tragedy around her.

Her fammie, Irine, swelled to twice her size, and her normally rosy form deepened to the gray of mourning. I stretched out an arm and she came to me. She touched Afton, and I could feel their combined pain even before he connected with me. When he did connect, grief seared through me and I felt my heart stop for a brief moment. Tears cascaded along my cheeks and I could not breathe. The fammies moved away and I bent forward, trying to incorporate the loss. I had to absorb and accept or I could not move onward with my life.

A quiet rustle drew my attention.