Shades of Purple
by Grace Singer
From Chapter Five: Berserker
An uneasy sleep fell over her, as she lay tied up on her own bed.
Dreams chased each other through her brain and images she couldn't recall ever seeing before.
A tall woman with very long, black hair. Another woman, a little shorter and rounder than the first with long hair that looked gray in the dim light. A slender woman with fiery hair.
All three women stood around the flames of a bonfire and the fiery haired woman touched her belly, swollen with child. She bent down and patted the little girl beside her on the head and the little girl reached up and placed her tiny hand on her mother's belly.
She felt the baby kick and the little girl withdrew in fear. She started screaming. Howls of anguish filled the beach and the witches stepped away from the child who cried mercilessly for what appeared to be no reason at all.
They had lived on the beach for the first three years of this little girl's life. The three witches. Always three witches. They came in threes, as if pre-packaged that way. As if destiny determined that three was the perfect number.
The little girl was going to be a great witch. The three women knew that from the moment she was born. Her thread had been so strong, so bright.
What appeared to be a child's temper tantrum to anyone on the outside came as a terrible shock to the witches. The little girl had her first vision right there on the beach. Some witches had an inborn talent for clairvoyance. The three women hadn't counted on that. They hadn't suspected that even as great as this little girl was going to be, that she could see things in the inner planes, as well as the future of things in the outer plane, and other realms that had long been forgotten.
They couldn't have known why the little girl was keening like a mourner.
Gaelin woke with a start. Her head was throbbing, but consciousness, full consciousness had been blessedly restored. The web of protection loosened and fell away as she regained control of her mind and body. It had shriveled up into a paper thin, white shell and crackled as it shattered on her bed.
She stood slowly and opened her door with a curious apprehension. She feared what had happened while she had been fighting for control of her mind. She knew very well what she could do when she was paying attention; she didn't really want to know what she could do when she wasn't completely in control.
She was afraid mostly that Magdaline was going to pack her up and kick her out. Then she'd really be an exile. Exiled by an exile. Could it get much worse?
She cleared her throat and Magdaline, who'd been spinning a web at the kitchen table looked over to the door. A moment passed between them, a look of understanding, and a look of affection that had been won over mere days. There was no need to fear being booted by the deputy mayor. No other witch would take her in, that Gaelin knew, but Magdaline wanted it that way. She wanted to have this little witch all to herself.
Magdaline wasn't entirely certain anyone else could handle this little parcel. She wasn't sure if even she was capable of safely delivering Gaelin to the other side of tomorrow.
She patted the bench next to her and continued to work on her web as if she weren't about to discuss something very important with Gaelin.
"About the other day…" Magdaline began.
"Was it as bad as I think it was?" Gaelin interrupted, the sound of an apology ringing at the bottom of her hollow words.
"Not nearly as bad as I'm sure you imagine. Though bad enough. No one will remember it," she said, giving the girl a sidelong glance that silenced her question about how that was possible.
"What happened to me?" Gaelin asked after an uncomfortable silence in which Magdaline continued warming the raw yellowy looking threads in her skillful hands. The web that was taking shape was a peculiar one; different from the type she hung in public. This was a web of remembrance. This was a web of blood.
The older witch took her middle finger, the one wearing the pointed thimble and pricked it across Gaelin's thumb. The girl instinctively pulled her thumb to her mouth to suck away the blood, but Magdaline grabbed her arm before she could do so. She ran the fresh blood over the threads in her hand and as she let the girl pull away she continued warming the threads, now soaked with fresh blood.
Gaelin remained silent; watching the fingers knit the raw threads together. It was amazing what the hands could do all on their own. A witch's hands were her main source of magic. Without her hands free she was close to powerless.
Magdaline hummed while she knitted and finally she turned to face Gaelin, allowing her fingers to work without her watchful eye trained on them.
"Do you know what this is?" she asked.
"A web of some sort," Gaelin replied. "I studied webcasting all throughout school, but we never went over anything that looked like that."
"You wouldn't have. This isn't the kind of web they teach you to cast in school. You'd have to learn it from another witch, like an apprentice and a master. Learning to weave from someone experienced."
"So what kind of web is it?"
"A web of remembrance. It'll help you figure out what happened to you."
"You don't know, do you?"
"No. There are many things I don't know. I'm always surprised when I find that I'm never as knowledgeable as I think I am. I've never seen anything like what happened the other day. I won't lie and tell you I wasn't paralyzed with fear. It was a blessing that I even cast that web of protection."
Magdaline smiled warily at Gaelin. This was a look the younger woman was very familiar with. It was a look that warned and infuriated her. It meant that it was time to reign in her temper, but usually her temper was beyond her control at that point.
Strong thread or not, Gaelin would have been a handful regardless of the power beneath. She was only that much more troublesome because of the deep well of power hidden beneath. Very. Deep. Well. So deep that if Magdaline tossed in a stone she might never hear it hit the bottom. The irony was that Gaelin sensed it, but had no idea how deep her well of power went.
She had never tested it before; not to see how far down it ran. She could accomplish most any task set before her and had never thought why that might be. Her fellow witches at school often had to attempt a thing more than once before they got it right. Gaelin could wave her hand, chant a few words and make magic without effort.
Magdaline was surprised that the Tribunal hadn't ferreted her out sooner. Why would Jadaline let a witch that powerful get fully educated, even after being warned and pointed in the right direction?
As much as she hated to admit it, this girl needed more than just her help. It was time to consult Moriama, which meant a journey to Billet Sands, the smaller sister to the Isle of Cambria.
Magdaline quieted her thoughts, took a moment to see how the web was coming along and turned to Gaelin once again. "Do you know that you almost broke the web on the way home?"
"Protection webs can't be broken," Gaelin said highly disbelieving.
"Well you almost did. Never in all my years. If it weren't for the blue thread I'm fairly certain you would've broken free and overwhelmed the whole island."
"Blue thread?"
"You don't remember? It wrapped around you in the web. It had a most calming affect on you."
Gaelin sighed, saddened and confused. "I can't clearly remember, but I remember the smell of cloves and a soft voice…" she trailed away putting together pieces to a complicated puzzle. It could have been no other than Dade, but how on earth had he reached her in that moment of dire need? How had he known the right words to calm and console her?