

### Covenant of the Cauldron

By Ruty Aisling

Published by Kephra Publications at Smashwords

Cover by Kephra Publications

Copyright 2012 Ruty Aisling

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This book is a work of fiction and draws on some historical events at the author's pleasure. Therefore names, characters, places, brands, media and or incidents portrayed within the work are solely based on the authors' imagination or are used fictitiously. As such any brands, trademarks or products are used fictitiously and without permission, authorization and/or endorsement by the trademark owners.

### Dedication

This book is dedicated to all the _Nina's_ and _William's_ of the past, present and future who devoted and sacrificed much, including their own lives, to their particular strands of the _Geassa_. Never once did they seek to press their practices on another or punish others for believing in ways not of their own. It is only through their collective altruistic work that many of the _Old Ways_ still survive to this day.

We also cannot forget those who lost their lives during this time in New England. Although Salem gets the best "press" for this period, many other towns had their share of trials and hangings. Andover, MA had the most arrests and citizens who remained in jail after the witch trials had ended - far more than Salem ever did.

Those who lost the most once the European settlers landed on these shores were the local Indian tribes. Most were willing to share and live peaceably with their new friends. Disease, war and the over harvesting of resources decimated their way of life and forever changed the landscape of North America.

### Acknowledgements

The Aislings would like to thank the following beta-reader for their time and help with the making of this book: _Svetlana Schewchenko._

Special thanks to the help of the Librarians of the Silsby Library in Charlestown, NH

### Caer Danann, Whitewood, NH Present Day

It was still early evening after one of Aunt Mabel's fabulous dinners that Arian found herself in Uncle Henry's library. She was surrounded by the comforting scent of oiled leather and wood, the warmth of the fire on the hearth and the soft candle light illuminating the room.

Her Uncle poured her a drink and went to check on her Aunt leaving Arian alone. Various tomes, both old and new, filled the shelves covering the walls of the room. Behind polished glass rare titles were kept. Arian had read many of them and would continue to do so furthering her knowledge of the arcane.

Drawn again to the shelves, she browsed the titles and discovered a new set of leather bound volumes. The most surprising thing about these books was the name that was stamped in gilt on the spine. The author was _Mabel MacInnes Danann_.

Arian knew of her Aunt's deep interest in the history of the families and the Murias - their individual stories as well as their diverse esoteric knowledge. She was always writing and researching personal papers, journals and diaries as well as various books and newspaper articles.

Each volume had a different title. Arian pulled out the first, gently opening the cover and noticed that it was hand bound. The title read:

Covenant of the Cauldron

A story about the settling of Whitewood drawn from family accounts.

### Chapter One - The British Isles, 1684

It was a cool summer night as Sarah made her way across the moonlit meadow and into the woods at the edge of the old Hastings farm. She was late. She knew it. Sarah had lingered too long with young Master Hastings, the son of a prominent land owner and devout church elder in this ancient English village. She quickened her pace as she made her way along the secret path that led deep into the forest.

Sarah received the coin today, a bronze medallion with simple symbols cast on either side. For all intents this gave the appearance of being similar to other currency used in the community to purchase goods. The coin she received was special, handed to her as change when purchasing baked goods that morning. It had become a regular custom to pass special coins between merchants and customers then back again to bring good luck. Sarah made a point of stopping at the baker's every day. This was her place of contact, the one spot in the village where she had to go in order to keep in communication with the others. For the deeper hidden meaning of the simple custom of passing the coin, beyond that of bringing luck, was only known to a handful of people in the community.

This coin held a symbol which had been long recognized among the others as representing the fact that a meeting was taking place that night. A rough symbol of a tree stamped on the back of the coin told her the location, the ancient grove which local legend had held as being haunted by demons and spirits from ages long before.

Sarah came from an old family whose roots reached back to the tribal clans of the Celts. Druidic lore and murky myths long surrounded the family. But all of this was hidden now, suppressed by the new religion that had crept into the Isles. For centuries the Old Ways and the new coexisted in relative harmony with each drawing strength from the other.

Kings would swear allegiance on two altars, first in the stone circles of the Old Ones and then in the churches of the new. But slowly the invading religion spread, its adherents seeking domination. As the centuries passed the new religion began to brand those who still practiced the Old Ways as evil servants of the dark one - Witches. Soon fear gripped every village and hamlet - for the new religion feared the power of demons, devils and the humans whom they believed consorted with them.

The devil dwelt in every corner and shadow. Illness was a direct cause of wickedness or evil works and therefore not natural. Misfortune was dealt by some dark hand and never the result of incompetence of those it befell. To those who believed in the new religion there were only two things that shaped this world \- God and the Devil - with nothing between and they were sworn to give no quarter to the dark ones.

For the families that still worshipped the in the Old Ways, it was a fear of being hunted down and slaughtered. Numerous communities had seen many old farms taken over by the church and local townships after entire clans had been executed for practicing Witchcraft. This became an easy way to fill the coffers of the now established authorities.

To avoid persecution the old families began to hide their traditions, practicing only under the cover of night. The coin was passed today. Sarah knew that she was the last in the line of people in the village to get the coin and her job was to return this to the Mistress of the Clan tonight when she attended the meeting.

Sarah was a young woman with long red hair, deep green eyes and a slender form. Young men of the village vied for her attentions. She took advantage of her natural charm, having several lovers at different times in her young life. While she would tell herself and the others in the Clan that she was discreet, there were very few in the village who didn't know that Sarah could be quite amorous, to a fault. This, of course, didn't sit well with the church elders.

Tonight, before the meeting, she had a deep desire to share her affection with young Tom Hastings. She had long admired his strong form as he worked the land of his Father's farm. Several times she had stopped by to bring him water or bread on the long, hot days, if only to watch his lean body sweating in the noon day sun. But it wasn't until this past month that she had managed to bed Tom in the field, far from prying eyes. Both knew that his Father would be furious over the affair, so they met in secret.

As the sun set and Sarah prepared to head to the meeting of the Old Ones she had to stop and see Tom. The full moon was slowly creeping up over the eastern horizon as she quietly stole her way to the old barn on the Hastings farm and gave the short bird call that had become their secret invitation announcing her desire.

Within minutes Tom slipped out of the house and ran to her. Together they lay in the hay, just inside the barn. Their bodies entangled in passion and lust. The rush of desire flooded through them in an exhaustive climax. Although it seemed to be only moments, more than an hour had gone by. Sarah jumped to her feet, slipped into her petticoat and threw her black wool cloak on. She leaned forward kissing Tom passionately and then ran off into the night.

All of these thoughts filled her mind as she went deeper into the old oak grove. There was a stillness in the air as she followed the narrow deer path known only to those within the Clan. No matter how many times she walked this course the grove always seemed eerie, with a sense of otherworldly presence.

Long gone were the days when the Druids maintained these sacred woods. Now they were overgrown with gnarled wood and thick brush. The full moon's light cast deep, long shadows across the path. More than once she thought she heard something . . . a crack or snap not far behind her. But turning to look only found her confronted with the dark shadows of the oak grove.

She quickened her step. The meeting would begin soon. She had to be there. She was the Circle's Maiden, second in line to the Mistress, servant to the Master and a representative of the young Goddess in the ceremony. What had she been thinking running off to Tom before the ritual? She really didn't care for Tom. Sure he was handsome and not bad as a lover. But she had no interest in him other than as a sexual diversion. She had always been like that. The Mistress of the Clan told her it would be her undoing and that she had to be discreet. Too much was at stake. Too many lives hung in the balance. And the ancient traditions with the knowledge from countless ages had to be persevered. With the new religion becoming so predatory, so resolute in its destruction of all that was in the past, secrecy had to be maintained no matter the price.

Snap!

There it was again.

Sarah turned around quickly, looking behind her at the trail she had just followed. There was nothing. No sign of anyone or anything. The night was completely still. She turned back now and continued on to the meeting. Minutes passed as she made her way through the woods until she could see the faint glow of a small fire just up ahead. With it there was the low murmur of voices in a unified chant. The ritual had already begun. Twelve cloaked figures stood in a circle around the fire as the incantation slipped from their lips in the old tongue. Everyone stopped as Sarah entered the clearing. They had barely begun the age old rite.

"Where have you been?" a woman's voice questioned.

Sarah stammered for a moment. "I . . . I am sorry. I had to stop somewhere on the way," she managed to say.

The Mistress walked over and passed a staff with two prongs on the top in front of Sarah. There was a rush of power as a silver mist brightened before her. Sarah stepped into the circle and assumed her place next to the hooded figure at the center near the fire. She could feel the Master's gaze on her as he said, "Your indiscretions are very dangerous. Were you followed tonight?"

"No," she replied. "I don't think so . . . " Sarah's voice trailed off.

There was a long pause. The Master gave a nod and the Clan once again began the ancient incantation in a low unified voice that slowly rose in beauty, power and form.

Several minutes later shouts were heard from the edge of the circle. Torches began to flare up one by one as dozens of men ran into the clearing. Panic over took the Clan as they broke the circle and tried to flee. But it was too late. They were out numbered. Quickly all thirteen members of the group were held in place.

A tall figure strode forward from the crowd. He reached for the hood of the central figure, pulling this back to reveal the identity of the Master. Others in the mob did the same with the rest of the members of the circle.

Tom Hastings stepped out from the crowd with his Father.

Sarah broke into tears. "Tom," she cried.

"Witch!" Tom yelled. "You bewitched me with your charms and spells. You succubus!! You seduced me! My Father planned this. He knew you would come for me she-devil. He and the others followed you here. The Witchfinder knew you would lead us to the rest of coven!"

The Witchfinder stepped forward and spat at the leader of the Witch clan. "I am Reverend Wilton, Witchfinder General. No one escapes the Lord's justice," he said. "Hang them from their sacred grove of trees! Let us see if their _Old Ones_ save them now!"

Screams and cries came from some of the Clan. One young girl no more than fourteen years old began crying hysterically as others tried to console her.

"Hang them all!" Wilton said again. "Send them back to hell where they came from!"

Then a voice at once both strong and feminine rang out from the circle.

"A curse I lay on your head, Wilton, Witchfinder!" the Mistress chanted, "A death more painful, a disgrace so profound, your body will rot and your mind will sour. The Ancient One's vengeance will fall on you now, delivered by a woman of great power!"

"String them up!" Wilton yelled.

### Chapter Two - Salem Village, Spring 1692

In the great room of the small colonial home the women had gathered. Being as large as the house, the room was typical of those found in other homes of that period. Filling one wall was a massive fireplace sporting a gallows-crook from which hung various trammels and pot-claws for the many kettles, lids and tools that were needed for cooking, cleaning and other necessary chores to run a home. Opposite the great hearth was an almost equally massive dresser displaying highly polished pewterware dishes and other kitchenware positioned to reflect any lamp or firelight in the room. Between the two was the table-board. Seated on the two forms, the backless benches that were placed on either side of the table-board, sat these goodwomen busily chattering about their work, designs and the upcoming warm weather.

A spinning wheel that once belonged to the house-mistress' mother stood motionless against the wall. To one side of the wheel sat a woman in a rocker breast-feeding her newborn babe. On the other side sat a red haired woman wearing a scarlet petticoat and matching bodice, the latter sporting borders and loops of multicolored ribbons and edged with thread lace. She sat quietly as the other women chatted, steadily spinning thread from the wool gathered at the end of a distaff.

All the women wore homespun decorated with lace, tapes and ribbons that were also handmade. The servant girl in her bright blue cap with a matching broadcloth bodice and petticoat poured cider into two communal flip glasses and placed them at opposite ends of the table.

The mistress of this home wore green silk, the bodice embellished with gold thread. They wore all wore a range of diverse colors from dark blues to Freya's bold red except for Goodwoman Ducane. Hester seemed to be most comfortable in her _S_ \- the black bodice and petticoat covered by a crisp white apron. She also sported a black cap and black hat; the latter greatly frowned upon as much as the showiness of the other women's styles.

Softly the sanded floors crunched under the housemaid's shoes disturbing the carefully swept design while she moved about the room assisting her mistress' guests. As normal and relaxed as the group appeared on the surface, there was tension in the air.

The kettle that was Salem Village was at full boil. Its lid sealed tightly by the weekly meetings at the Parris household which stoked the hearth fires beneath until the community exploded from the pressure. Throughout the past winter the Parris girls met with their young friends as well as older, married women for their weekly sport of fortune-telling, palmistry and strange plays. As the young girls attracted more attention, the more overt their displays became.

When finally called to question about their unseemly behavior they began their accusations of bewitchment. This led to the first arrest warrant of the Parris house slave, Tituba, on the 29th day of February. The arrests of Sarah Good and Sarah Osborne swiftly followed. Like an epidemic accusations seemed to strike without warning. No one's character was immune to an accusal by these girls. Arrests were becoming more frequent.

"Anne," Nina said to her housemaid, "take these coins and pick up some cakes for us."

Anne pocketed the coins, curtsied and left the women to their work. Once the front door to the house closed behind Anne, the women dropped their work into their laps and turned to face Nina.

"News?" Goody Macleod asked.

"Not yet. My husband has still not returned from Boston with a response," Nina replied. "But we need to continue to prepare as it will be soon, of this I am sure. We cannot continue in this place much longer."

The women turned to assess Freyja's progress. She had already slipped deep into trace, her eyes looking past that which was before her into a world unseen by those around her. Her fingers were nimbly working the thread of the distaff.

Softly Nina asked, "What is before us?"

Freyja's lips moved slowly. "Flight . . . danger . . . many dangers . . . " Freyja blinked a few times and the spell was broken. "I could not see it all," she said disappointingly.

Then the women took turns giving Nina the status of their assignments. They were close to being ready to escape, but to where? That still depended on the message from their sponsor in England, Sir Henry Hobart.

When the families began arriving, over the past few years, Salem Village was supposed to be a safe haven, a place to set new roots enabling them to continue their practices, protect their knowledge and the treasure entrusted to them.

The Danann's did well. Their farm prospered. They were one of the few families who came to the New World who knew about farming. Other farms were having trouble with crops; their harvests were poor due to their lack of skill with working the land. Whispers around town had already begun about livestock being hexed or families being bewitched. First it was the Parris girls, but now many others began taking up the flag. Usually it was some disgruntled person acting out against another or a debtor against the lender unable to pay their due.

In the past few decades the family had already escaped witchcraft accusations, slavery and Cromwell's ethnic cleansing of Ireland arriving in the New World just after the civil war in England when King James II was overthrown. Tensions over religious differences had increased making it impossible for Catholics, difficult for the Quakers and deadly for those who practiced the Old Ways.

This was no safe haven. Quickly the families realized that they were expected to conform to the Puritanical-Calvinistic ways of the community. Those who didn't were ostracized.

Biding their time many tried to fit-in by attending church and other community events sponsored by the local congregational parish. But the Danann's were free Irish - neither slaves nor indentured servants. The Puritan's believed all Irish were Catholics and Catholics were _not_ Christians.

Another war between the English, French and Indians over land was escalating. The Indians were demonized. Many of the local ministers were claiming that the Indians and the Papist French were led by Satan himself. As the war raged in the northern regions of New England refugees from colonies in Maine were pushed from town to town with little charity from the government or the residents.

Nina Danann was a strong and independent woman but she found it difficult when her husband left on business. Sometimes he would be away for weeks at a time relaying messages to their contacts in Boston. The Reverend of the local parish took it upon himself to watch over Goodwoman Danann during her husband's absence. As time went on she quickly realized his concern was not for her well being.

Last week he came by. After several inappropriate advances she threw him out, loudly. Many of the locals heard and saw his humiliation. She called him a lecherous good-for-nothing and a sinner.

Just then the front door of the house opened and slammed loudly. Quickly the women picked up their work and began idle chatter.

"Miss! Miss!" Anne sobbed.

"What is it Anne? What has happened?" Nina asked with concern.

"The Reverend . . . it is all over town. He calls you a Witch," Anne replied still sobbing, trying to catch her breath between words. "Says you bewitched him with a love spell."

"It is all right Anne," Nina said as she hugged her housemaid in an effort to console her. "Please go and stay with the children. I will call you in a while."

Almost as an after thought Nina asked, "Did you pass the coins I gave you to the baker?"

"Yes," Anne replied, "here are the cakes."

Anne nodded, still sobbing, as she climbed the narrow stairs to the upper floor, her hand gently sheltering the two shortbreads in her pocket from damage.

"What now? It seems our timetable has been moved up. We can no longer wait for Sir Hobart," Goodwoman Ducane said softly.

"The dark moon is still upon us. We should leave tonight," Nina began. "Finish packing what you can. Remember, just the necessities. We will meet two hours after sunset at the designated spot."

"Anne has passed the coin. The others will know that the meeting will be held. We need to let all know that it will be tonight and not at the first crescent as planned and what about the message? We need to let the Master know our plans," Goodwoman Godfrey said.

Nina turned to Goodwoman Ducane saying, "Your son, Elliot, have him meet my William on the road to Boston on his return. Tell him what has happened. We move to the first northern point as we planned in an emergency."

"But there is fighting going on up north. We will not be safe," Goody Godfrey interjected.

"Safer than here," Nina replied. "If I am formally accused it will not be long before the rest of you are. The coin has been passed. Each of you must let the others know of our change in plans. When you leave here you must see to the others in your charge to be sure they know."

Nina twisted the slender silver bracelet on her wrist. Except for the inscription it was identical to the ones worn by her husband, the women sitting before her and their husbands. Her bracelet read, _Niamh,_ and beneath it, _Lady of the Gwynfyd_.

All members of their circle, the _Murias_ , wore one and never took it off. It proclaimed their dedication to the _Geassa_ , the Bond. Only young Anne, the housemaid, was not part of the circle. Not yet. She was sent to the Danann household the year before after her Mother had died. Her Father was the Captain of one of the British Royal navy's ships that made the trek regularly across the Atlantic between Boston and Bristol, England.

While Anne was English and the Dannans were Irish the connection between the families reached back to the century before. It was then that members of the Old Traditions gathered from all corners of the Isles to raise the winds that drove the Spanish Armada back from an impending invasion. Irish or English it didn't matter. The threat was the same and the members of the Old Ways knew they had to act in unison.

Anne's Great Grandmother had been among those on the cliffs raising the storm against the invading force. Many of the Dannan clan also made the journey from Ireland to aid in the cause. There around great bonfires that blazed like beacons across the sea the wise ones, the Witches of the British Isles, whistled up the wind while brewing potions in huge cauldrons that were poured over the edge of the cliffs and into the sea.

Ancient chants in tongues long forgotten filled the air as clans and covens from all corners of the kingdom danced in frenzied circles summoning the raw elemental powers that would prove so vital to the defeat of the Spanish Armada. It was Lughnasadh, the Celtic fire festival of harvest, and the shear energy of the season was brought to bear that warm summer night as men and women, both clothed and naked, worked the old magic.

There, high upon the windswept cliffs overlooking the sea, new alliances were formed among the different groups. While all shared a common past and ancient beliefs rooted in the land itself, the coming of the alien religion that was forced upon them through the centuries had driven them apart. Over time most of the traditions had lost touch with each other. But this night, this most sacred of harvest festivals, renewed the old links so much so that in the century that followed those alliances had not been forgotten.

With no other living relatives to care for her, Captain Jones sent his daughter to the one clan he knew he could trust. He knew that among the Dananns Anne would be safe and grow up hale and hearty. Captain Jones also knew that she would learn secrets and ways that were fast becoming a thing of the past. He wanted to make sure that she had the opportunity to carry on the old family calling following the more traditional ways that her Great Grandmother had, if Anne chose to.

Nina turned to Hester Ducane saying, "Are we agreed?"

Goody Ducane nodded; the women gathered their things and quickly made their way into the village to prepare.

"Anne!" Nina called up the stairs. "Please help me in the kitchen; we need to make more bread and pies."

Anne hurried to the kitchen, the two Danann boys following.

"Bring wood for the hearth," Nina instructed the boys before turning to Anne. "Get the fire good and hot."

Nina cleared the large table in the kitchen and began making bread dough, throwing large balls onto the floured table for Anne to begin kneading. Onions and meat were sizzling in the pots and the boys kept stacking more wood by the hearth.

As Nina scraped the last of the flour from the barrel and the remaining breads and pies were baking the sun was quickly slipping toward the horizon. Anne began to clean up but Nina stopped her.

"No time for that and what does it matter?" Nina said brushing the hair from her forehead with a floured hand. There were fine streaks of flour across her face and in her hair.

Anne nodded in agreement but insisted on cleaning the big spoon and copper pan that she refused to leave behind. The kitchen was a mess.

Between baking batches they spent time packing and stacking their goods by the back door. They didn't wish to alert anyone to their imminent departure if they were spotted moving things to the barn during the daylight. Once darkness fell, they began carrying their bundles of food, supplies and blankets into barn and loading the cart.

John and Thomas, the two Danann boys, liberally greased the axles of the cart to ensure that it wouldn't squeak. In a secret compartment built into the cart, the private books, tools and the treasure of the Murias were hidden.

Although the Danann farm was on the outskirts of the village there were other farmsteads they would pass on the road this night and sound traveled far.

Nightfall already fully enveloped the countryside. The Danann's worked quickly and quietly in the darkness of the barn only using candles for light in the house.

In a short time the oxen and milking cow's hooves were muffled. On the back of the cart was a small cage of chickens, a rooster and two hens, sleeping soundly from the tincture placed in their food that evening.

Nina's horse was now getting its hooves muffled when Anne ran into the barn.

"They're coming!" she whispered. "I can see torches coming up the road."

"Well, we are ready to leave," Nina said. "You ride my horse; I will take the cart with the boys."

From a bag on her belt she sprinkled a fine powder made from local herbs; the spores from several ferns collected during the night of the last midsummer, vervain, and the ground root of Solomon seal. She scattered this over Anne, the horse, oxen, cow, cart and her two sons.

Then slowly she closed her eyes and raised her arms. In a voice that was at once feminine and rich with power Nina began an ancient incantation taught to her many years before,

"Fith-fath, the spell is cast,

Blind are all to our path.

Fith-fath, none can see,

Where we have been or where we will be!"

She cast the spell in the hopes they would remain unnoticed.

Anne could see a slight shimmer descend over their caravan. A smile came to her face. She knew the Danann's were practitioners of the Old Ways. But this was not the deviltry that the Puritanical-Calvinists made it out to be. All she had seen or done with this family was good and she was proud to be a part of it.

The cart, driven by Nina, pulled out of the barn with Anne on horseback bringing up the rear.

"They are too close," Nina said eyeing the torches coming up the road. "We need to take the back trail through the fields to get to Nichols Brook."

Half an hour later a bright light appeared behind them. They heard some yelling and voices, but couldn't make out the words.

"The farm! They have set fire to it. We must quicken our pace," Nina said and urged the ungainly oxen on to their destination with the other families. They moved steadily through the dark night, finally coming upon Nichols Brook, their pursuers far behind them before they stopped.

"We shall rest here for a moment," Nina said and climbed down from the cart. "Stay with the boys, I will be right back."

Anne agreed and Nina walked quickly along the brook's edge. When she was about fifty feet away from the cart, she pulled a piece of cloth from her pocket.

On one of the Reverend's unwelcome visits she managed to secure his scarf without him noticing. This would make the perfect _tag-lock_ , a link she could use if ever the need arose. Now the need was clear. Nina wanted to make sure that never again would he be able to force himself on any woman. She felt that he was nothing but a hypocrite, a lecherous and evil man, preying on women in times of need.

Standing at the brook's edge, she looked deep into the water. Slowly, carefully, she formed an image of the Reverend in her mind, bringing his face to her vision as the water of the brook gently rolled by. She allowed herself to recall all that she could about the Reverend, the memory of his voice filling her ears, the distinct dirty scent that accompanied him from his infrequent bathing. With unhurried calm she began tying seven knots into the scarf. As she tied each she chanted:

"Your manhood withers with each knot I make,

It shrinks and dies, blackens and cakes.

With no woman or man will you find pleasure,

Cursed you are as I drown your measure.

Then she dropped the Reverend's knotted scarf into Nichols Brook, wiped her hands on her apron and returned to the cart.

### Chapter Three

As he hurried through the busy street Omar still couldn't shake the feeling from his encounter with the tall man at the tavern the night before. His first love had passed during their voyage here several years ago, may she wait for him in the bosom of the Gods until they were united again! His second love is what placed him in the tavern last night - soda bread and a mutton stew cooked in the curious fashion of the Irish - for Omar did enjoy his food.

He sat alone at the table as usual. Omar was used to sitting alone as the English and Irish avoided him outside of business dealings because he was different - a foreigner with dark skin. Oh they would talk and make a friendly pretense of welcome when making deals for his fine silks, ladies slippers, jewelry or spices that he imported from the east. When consignments of dried, exotic fruits and candied nuts arrived they lined up in anticipation. Shipments that came carrying casks of spiced wines and liquors were fought over long before the goods made port. But that was as far as it went. Except for his son, Omar had no true friends here.

It was the first time he saw the tall man as he sat alone eating his meal. To his amazement the man sat at his table. There were plenty of empty tables about him so he was very much surprised and delighted at having company. It had been a long time since he had broken bread with someone who may just be interested in his company and not what he could get them at a fair price.

It was during this chance, intimate moment that Omar noticed the silver bracelet worn by the man. Omar had reached out to touch the object at the owners offering in an attempt to examine its quality and familiar design when it happened. A curious jolt, like a fire, ran from his fingertips over his palm and up his arm. It was strong and warm, almost burning and he quickly withdrew his hand. " _Ibn El-Kalb_!" Omar exclaimed as he eyed the tall man now with curiosity and caution. If the man wearing the bracelet perceived any of this, he did not show evidence of it.

Omar's hand slipped to his wide waist casually adjusting his broad sash belt. He could feel the object beneath the layers of silks still firmly secured against his flesh. Still shaken by the experience Omar hurried through half of his stew, swallowed his ale and wrapped the gravy sodden soda bread into a kerchief before begging his leave from this curious man.

Quickly he made his way back to his small shop and climbed the rickety ladder that groaned over its age and his weight to the small loft above. His son was already fast asleep.

Omar went to the small shelf on the wall and lit a candle before opening the small wardrobe to reveal the statue of woman wearing a leopard skin dress. On her crown is the seven pointed star atop a pair of inverted cow horns. In one hand she holds a palm branches. This is Seshat, the Goddess of the Library, the consort of Thoth, the blessed one that Omar has dedicated his life and sole purpose on this earthly realm. He prayed for most of the night by the altar making offerings and burning incense seeking a resolution to the previous night's encounter through this meditation.

Just before dawn his son awoke. He sat up rubbing his eyes in the dim light. "You are missing mother again?" the boy yawned.

"No," his father replied. "I think I have found the one I was told to seek." Omar drew in a deep breath. He was a man of faith. He was a man of generosity. He was a man of his word. Yet he had broken his faith and his bond with his people when he took the object now stuffed in his belt. He had stolen it and brought it to this place because of his belief in the words of the Gods.

Omar knew that the other Priests would object to removing the artifact to a place so far away. It would take years before any agreement would be made _if_ they would ever agree. But the instructions were persistent, urgent and clear. The artifact must be put in the hands of those who will understand its meaning - and it must be moved quickly!

He withdrew the object from his belt and unwrapped the worn silk cloth from the piece. Holding it up he examined it in the dim candle light.

"Are you sure you have found the one?" the son said as he admired the piece that his father held.

"I have thought myself deceived and a fool for many years now. Even ready to return and face my fate," Omar sighed again. "But yes. I know I have found the one."

His son washed up and put on tea. Omar left instructions for the day to his son before returning to the tavern. He sat at the main table waiting for the tall man named William to return.

### Chapter Four

The owners of the _Green Dragon Tavern_ were generous in their support of Sir Hobart and always provided William with a safe place to stay when in Boston. This was the place where those of like causes could meet in relative safety and security. In a small room, no larger than a good sized cupboard, William Danann waited patiently at the tavern for the ship to make port. It was almost a week overdue. Hopefully the vessel was still on her way to Boston. When it arrived they would, with any luck, be granted territory for their group.

Henry Hobart, who originally approached the families, was their sponsor. He had connections, money and influence on who would own lands in the New World. However, war had already started over land ownership. The French, English and Indians all fought brutally to retain claim on what they believed was rightfully theirs.

Many of the native population were killed for these lands. William sympathized with the Indians, after all it was their land first. Most tribes were willing to share and live peacefully with the newcomers. But as it happens, whenever money and power are to be had, greed quickly follows. The lust for ownership burned in the veins of the French and English. That left the Indians, although fierce and great warriors, quickly outnumbered by the Europeans and their diseases.

So William waited as his mind and conscience struggled over the dilemma. His compassion for the Indians could not override the fact that he must support his sponsor and the English to preserve his families, traditions and the treasure.

William wondered if he and Nina had made the right decision to come to this New World. They took a great chance by doing so. Irreplaceable books, knowledge, even the treasure were now here. If they failed - all this, _everything_ would be lost forever.

The _Geassa,_ the Bond, was their practice and drew them to these lands. It was his duty as Master of the Murias and his wife's. Nina was _Banriona_ , Mistress of the Murias.

Nina was a descendant of the Danann clan of Ireland. This was an ancient bloodline reaching back through the mists of time to an era only spoken of in myth and legend. In those days of old, so the bards would tell, the ships of the Tuatha de Danann, the children of the Goddess Danu, arrived on the shores of Ireland. Coming from ancient lands believed to be lost to the sea they brought with them four great treasures.

It was from the lost realm of Murias that Nina's group retained their name. She was part of the ancient bloodline. The heritage of the Gods, the Tuatha, flowed through her veins. With it came the awesome responsibility of keeping the Old Ways safe, carrying these forward for future generations. But there was more. Three keys, three trusts were her responsibility; to keep the bloodline strong and vibrant, keep the ancient knowledge safe, and above all keep the sacred relic – the treasure brought from the sunken land of Murias – secure.

As for the bloodline, this always followed the woman of the family. While the men were strong leaders and highly respected throughout history, theirs was a matriarchal tradition. Men who entered the family through marriage always took the Danann name. So it was with William when he married Nina.

Theirs was an old Geassa, an old teaching and bond that they could not break. There were other groups all with as equal and heavy a responsibility. But the Murias, the small circle of families under Nina and William's direction and care had one quest; to keep this particular strand of the great tapestry of the ancient mysteries alive, safe and vibrant. To this end they would give their all.

His patience was rewarded the next day. The ship finally docked in Boston harbor and a courier, a mysterious man who was tall and dark, passed a small package to William that bore the crest of the Hobart family on it, a bull passant against its striped field. Not a word was exchanged though the courier seemed to stop and eye William carefully. Then the two parted, the mysterious figure disappearing into the crowd.

Suddenly the dock seemed more crowded. William pressed his way through the throng of people. There was much confusion and concern from the mob about something found in the water.

"A man! He has been strangled!" someone yelled from the water's edge.

Cries of shock and horror came from the eager crowd as they ghoulishly pressed forward to catch a glimpse of the dead man.

William barely noticed. He had no time to waste on something beyond his control. Racing back from the dock to his small room at the tavern, William closed the door behind him and quickly unwrapped the parcel. Inside the package were several letters and documents. Tears came to William's eyes as he read them. They had been granted a patent for twenty-thousand acres in central New Hampshire.

Hobart's letter explained this land grant was predicated on the English hold over that area. No money, soldiers or supplies would be available to them for settling or defense. They were basically on their own with only this document giving title.

"It will have to do," William breathed as he carefully wrapped the documents back up.

This was a generous gift. William knew it. Sir Hobart was English. The Dananns were Irish. There was no love lost between these two Isles. Even as William held the package in his hands he knew that many of his countrymen were being sold into slavery by the English.

However, the bond between Sir Hobart and the Dananns went beyond politics and country borders. Like the Dananns certain members of the Hobart family had links to older traditions and ways of life. Henry Hobart's family could trace relations back to the old kings of England who had sworn on the two altars in centuries past.

Some in the Hobart family still understood and practiced the ancient ways. Deep in sacred groves and hidden glens the circle light still was summoned when the moon was full and the sky clear with starlight. But the Old Ways were threatened now. Henry Hobart knew this. Just a few years earlier a young and distant cousin had been strung up deep in an oak forest along with twelve others. She was only fourteen at the time. All were hung as Witches. Irish or English, it didn't matter. The Old Ways had to survive. The Dananns with their long tradition and the treasure entrusted to their clan through the ages had taken the bold move of seeking refuge in the New World. Sir Hobart was determined to ensure that the traditions would survive with them.

A knock at the door roused William from his thoughts. The proprietor quickly stepped in, shutting the door behind him.

"What news?" he asked.

"Very good news. We have been granted land in central New Hampshire," William said holding the documents before him with shaking hands.

"Well that is good news indeed!" the proprietor said smiling.

"I will send word next spring once we are settled for those who will follow," William said.

"Good luck to you and yours. May the Gods guard and guide you," he said grabbing William and kissed both his cheeks before exiting the room. "Good news indeed!"

As quickly as the door closed the proprietor thrust it open again. "I almost forgot. The silk merchant is anxious to speak with you. He has been waiting all morning."

"Probably to sell me something, no doubt," William replied. "I will have to disappoint him as I have not a moment to waste."

There was a loud rap-rap at the door and a voice called out, "Lord William! A word please!" The voice had a curious accent that both men recognized as belonging to the silk merchant Omar.

The rapping came again. "It is most important my lord! Please spare a moment of your time!" William shrugged and pushed the package of documents beneath his coat before gesturing for the proprietor to open the door.

Omar quickly squeezed between the men. "It is most crucial that I speak with you alone my lord. Most crucial." He looked helplessly at the two men, his face flushed and his hands were clasped tightly together.

The proprietor nodded and exited the room. "I have errands to keep merchant. What brings you to me with such important news?" William asked eager to be done with this man and be on his way.

"I am but a humble servant my lord. Perhaps this will explain," Omar said as he withdrew the silk wrapped bundle from his flowing robes. He extended the object to William.

William waved his hand dismissively at the object offered to him. "I have no means to purchase any goods," he said.

"You misunderstand me, my lord," Omar stammered. "It is a very old and special piece and I believe you are the one who is to protect it. My people believe that there are no chance encounters especially when we work the greater tasks of the Gods."

William looked down at the object in Omar's hand. The worn silk wrapping had fallen away revealing the battered and chipped golden figures atop a discolored cylinder of bone and ivory. He reached his hand out and took it. "Why must I protect it?"

"I was told," Omar replied softly.

"Told? By whom?" William asked curiously.

"You would not believe me if I said," Omar replied reaching out for the artifact and pulling the cloth from it. He tipped the object bottom up and William's eyes widened in surprise.

The gold leaf had long disappeared from most of the grooved pattern on the bottom of the piece, but the original design could still be made out - _the triple swirl -_ the same design engraved on every member of the Murias' bracelet.

### Chapter Five

Nina's family was the last to arrive at the meeting place. For the past year the group had been stockpiling dry goods, guns, tools, carts and other non-perishables for this very event which they knew was coming soon.

Usually a couple of the men would camp nearby to ensure their goods were safe. They would rotate on a fairly regular basis. Between the various families no individual was gone from home for too long and their absences weren't connected or missed.

"Good. We are all here," Nina said. "We should start out immediately for the north site."

"You should rest first," Anne said.

"No. There will be plenty of time to rest later. We move now," Nina replied.

The seven families of the Murias, consisting of twenty-six adults and twelve children, made their last minute checks on their loads and livestock before they began the long trek to the north site.

Anne drove the cart with the two Danann boys. Nina stayed behind on her horse to cast a protection spell on their path. This would help ensure that no one would follow them further.

The spell she chose for this was old, even ancient. Its origins were lost in history, but the magic was still very strong. Even the names and terms used in the spell were mysterious. All that she knew was that they were Words of Power reaching back to ages long gone.

Tied to the saddle was an old skin sack. Before leaving Nina had made the potion, placing it in the bladder, knowing that it would be needed. This was a simple mix of ale and crushed garlic.

Climbing off the horse she opened the skin and poured its contents across the road. Immediately the smell of the garlic and ale filled her senses as she began the incantation:

1" _O garlic, protect us as you protect Ausir . . ."_

Her voice strong and powerful reverberated throughout the forest:

"You will close the mouth and turn back any evil person, spirit, thought or curse that tries to follow."

The air grew denser, thicker and more palpable as Nina's voice grew even greater:

"They can not follow! For we are protected as you protect Ausir! The heat of your flame is directed against them, and you destroy them completely, for they will wither and be repelled by your awesome power!"

### Chapter Six

Normally a full day's arduous travel during the best conditions, Elliot Ducane caught up with William on the road just beyond Boston's town limits the next morning. He had left late afternoon at full gallop once he crossed Town Bridge and traveled most of the night in the dark, much of that time leading his horse on foot. Quickly Elliot explained what happened.

"Nina," William began, "is she all right? And my sons?"

"I do not know," Elliot replied.

"Our cart. It is important above all else that the cart be kept safe. Did it make it to the north point?" William asked.

"Master, I do not know. When I left all was as well as could be expected. If they were able to leave as planned . . . " Elliot's voice trailed off.

William put his hand on Elliot's shoulder saying, "Well done. We should start now to meet them."

Spurring their horses on, the two rode toward their destination and families.

Once night fell the men slowed their pace. It was dark moon and a lame mount would only hinder their progress.

Instead of staying at an inn, they decided to press on northward and avoid any settlements. If Nina was formally accused, news would spread rapidly and a warrant for William would quickly follow.

William was well-known in these small towns. He spent many a night in these inns over the past few years as he traveled back and forth to Boston with messages.

By the second night the landscape became more rural and wooded. They were far northwest of the coast now.

Slowly the stars began to disappear from the sky as heavy clouds moved in. Gusts of wind began blowing and rain began to fall. Thunder boomed as lightening cracked across the sky. The rain and wind increased steadily making the going more difficult.

Here the road became narrower and more uneven. William got off his mount and began leading it slowly down the path, his eyes on the thick forest surrounding them.

"What are we doing?" Elliot asked between thunderclaps.

"Looking for a place to sleep," William replied. "Ah! This way."

William turned into the woods on to a narrow game trail. The trees were dense and the branches scraped against the men and their mounts. It seemed to go on forever. Elliot was sure that the woods were so thick that they would have to back out when William and his horse disappeared before him.

Elliot stumbled on ahead realizing the space around him opened up and that the trees were gone.

"A cave!" Elliot breathed as his voice softly echoed off the stone.

"Yes. We need a dry place to rest," William said and lit a small candle stub. "Hurry and set up your bed. I will see to the horses.

William took the horses and secured them to a rock in the back of the cave. They were left saddled in case of emergency. Then he unrolled his blanket and used his saddle bags as a pillow. The precious package was safely tucked inside.

"Lights out," William said and blew the small candle out.

Caves like this were found all over New England. Many were later called _Witches Caves_ as those escaping arrest would hide in them. Many Native Americans used them as _Medicine Caves_ believing they held special powers and were links to the spirit world.

### Chapter Seven

It was late when the Reverend heard the loud knock on the front door of his house. He wondered who it could be. The night was stormy with heavy torrents of rain, studded by sudden streaks of lightening and crashing thunder. A classic New England nor'easter had come in off the ocean and no one would be out in this weather. His two daughters and his wife had already gone to bed. He, however, was still up sitting by candlelight as he worked on the coming Sunday's sermon.

"Sir?" came a voice from the other side of the door. It was his slave, a black woman from Virginia who had been with the family for years.

"Yes, what is it?" he asked.

"There is a man here. Says he needs to speak with you. Says he can help you," she said.

"Tell him to come back tomorrow, I am occupied," the Reverend answered sharply.

"Sir, he said he had to see you tonight. He gave me a book to show you!" she replied.

Reverend Somes pushed back from his desk in irritation before rising from his chair and opening the door. The servant handed him the worn leather bound book. She had no idea what it was about. Cicely couldn't read.

The Reverend opened the cover looking at the title page. His hands began to tremble as he read the name of the book. He closed the cover.

"Very well," he said, his voice less sure in tone than before. "See him into the front room. I will be down shortly. After you let him in, go ahead to bed. I want to be alone with this gentleman."

After a few moments he composed himself, putting a bed coat on over his nightshirt, and then made his way to the great room.

There, standing with his back to the Reverend, was a tall man wearing a long black wool cloak and a broad brimmed black hat that were dripping wet from the heavy rain that fell outside. He was looking over the books the Reverend had on the small wall shelf.

"This book is yours?" the Reverend said as he held it out.

The man turned, his face coming into view. Stepping forward the light from a nearby candle illuminated his features. He reached for the book. In doing so he seemed even taller and somehow menacing.

Under the hat the Reverend could see the man had thick, shoulder length black hair. His features were sharp, his nose long and pointed. He had a well kept beard that seemed to come to a point at the chin. But the most striking feature was his dark piercing eyes. Even under the brim of the hat the Reverend could see a glimmer in the deep eyes that made him feel uneasy.

"Yes, it has been in my family for years. My name is Thomas Wilton. Like you I am a soldier of the Lord," the man replied.

"You are a minister?" the Reverend asked.

"Of a sort," Master Wilton said. "My family has a long history of fighting Satan and his followers."

There was a long pause as the two men sized each other up.

The Reverend then said, "My servant told me you were here to help me."

"Yes," Wilton said. "I have heard of your problems; the epidemic that is creeping through your village, the woman and her family who humiliated you in public."

"The Danann Witch," the Reverend hissed. "She put a glamour on me. She tried to seduce me! And now my manhood is not my own! The entire family has left town and many in surrounding communities, all with ties to her, have gone as well."

The Reverend paused for a moment as he looked down at the book in Thomas' hands saying, "This book of yours is well known in certain circles. Can it help us to find them? Can it help us to bring them back?"

The tall figure of the man leaned over and opened the front cover. The title page read _The Malleus Maleficarum – The Witches Hammer_. With a long, boney finger Thomas tapped the page of the book.

"I can find this woman and her clan of Witches. I already know the route they take. My ancestors were long involved in the Isles as Witch-hunters and Witch-finders. Their secrets have been passed to me," Thomas said.

"Bring her back to Salem to hang and you will be rewarded well," the Reverend said.

"The bounty is not enough," Thomas replied. "These Witches are traveling far, through dangerous territory. The French, the Indians and the English are again at war. It will not be easy to bring her back. I need a guide, supplies and a fast horse. I have just come over from the Isles and I have not had time to secure the necessary items for such an undertaking."

"How did you hear of our plight so fast?" the Reverend snapped.

"News travels quickly and . . ." Thomas' voice trailed off for a moment. " . . . I intercepted the courier who brought a certain package over from England to Master Danann himself. He was waiting in Boston for it. I know where your Witches are going."

### Chapter Eight

They were in wild territory now - Indian country. Fighting had already broken out in the west and northeast of them. Salem Village reluctantly kept receiving more refugees from the fighting in Maine. Considered undesirables by the towns and residents - homeless orphans, widows, those who had few means after losing everything in the fighting - were turned away and many were run out of town.

Heading for the _Namaskik_ , the north site to wait for William, Elliot and the news from Sir Hobart, the group pressed on over the rough and narrow trail. In many spots along the Merrimac River the path was barely wide enough for the horses. Saplings had to be cut, in some instances trees needed to be felled, in order to get the carts through. It was slow going. The men of the group worked as quickly as possible with their axes blazing a trail that would be easy for anyone to follow.

"Weather is coming," the call was passed from each family group to the back of the caravan where the Danann family insisted in taking up the rear.

Nina looked up, it was nearing sunset but the sky looked dark in the east. Clouds were starting to drift in. The wind was picking up. It was going to be a bad night.

"We need to stop before sunset. We will pick up after the storm. Look for shelter," Nina called back.

The message was passed forward. About thirty minutes later they had found a rough overhang and some small caves for shelter. The women, children and elders made their beds in the caves while the men stayed out with the carts and livestock under oiled canvas covers.

Nina and Anne passed out the last of the meat pies that they made for dinner. There would be bread, hard cheese and dried venison for the rest of the trip.

Her petticoats kept catching on the bushes and branches. Finally getting the boys and Anne settled in for the night, she dug out a pair of her husband's breeches.

Anne gasped, "You are wearing men's trousers?"

"Yes," Nina replied. "I am tired of tripping on these damn petticoats! Breeches are more suitable for these conditions anyway."

The next day most of the other women ditched their skirts for men's trousers. Husband's groaned and brothers acquiesced to give the women their breeches to wear.

As they continued following the river, they could hear the sound of the _Namaskik_ falls before they reached them. Selecting a spot to set up camp and shelter, the group settled in to wait for William and Elliot.

No fires were set for tea or cooking. They didn't want to give any clues to their location. Soldiers or, more likely, Indians would be in this area. Everyone knew this was a dangerous situation but it couldn't be helped. Even the children seemed to know the danger, staying close to the camp and the one babe slept softly. They sat quietly doing some simple hand work or tending to their animals to keep them busy.

The second day at the falls they were sure that Elliot would have at least caught up with them. William may still be waiting for word in Boston but would send a message with Elliot. When the sun began setting, some of the group started worrying aloud.

"We wait for the Master," Hester Ducane said in a commanding voice. "That is the plan. Until we know otherwise. There is no sense in complaining. We have nowhere to go until we hear from the Master."

The men and other women quieted down and went back to their small tasks tending to the animals or brushing their clothes. Nina knew that this wouldn't last long. She couldn't blame them. Then, from the corner of her eyesight, Nina caught movement in the surrounding brush.

"Anne," Nina said, "call the women to the sewing circle."

"Sewing circle?" Anne asked.

"Yes," Nina replied, "and be swift and quiet about it. We are being watched."

Anne nodded her eyes quickly darting about them.

After a few minutes the women gathered around Nina's cart. They sat on boxes, the ground and a few stools were brought out for the older women.

The ladies sat quietly, each handling their work in a busy fashion, none actually working except for Goodwoman Ducane who was, as usual, the most calm and collected of all the women. Freyja Ferguson took up her distaff and began to spin wool into thread.

"Do not look about but we are being observed," Nina said softly.

"By whom?" Goody Godfrey asked nervously.

"I think the local natives are sizing us up," Nina replied.

"What should we do?" Goody Stewart asked.

"Perhaps we should call the _fey_ folk," Hester Ducane offered.

"Exactly what I was thinking," Nina replied. "Go back to your families. Inform everyone to hide their weapons. We invoke in ten minutes. I will start the fire."

At Nina's word several men brought wood to the center of the camp. There she set the fire. This would be a _Tine Chnamh_ – a ritual bonfire. She wanted to make sure that it was bright enough so that anyone watching would be able to see.

A tall man with dark wavy hair stepped forward. In a thick Scottish accent he asked, "Mistress, who are we calling this night?"

This was Codi Mackay, the _Trulliad_ of the Murias. His job was to serve the Banriona during ritual in whatever way he could. When the Master was away it was the Trulliad who stepped forward to lead in any of the male roles a ceremony might need.

"Are we calling the Ancient Ones from your line, the Tuatha, to guide us?" he asked.

"No. Actually I was thinking of the _Sidhe_ ," Nina replied.

"Sidhe? Here?" Codi asked.

"Codi, the Sidhe are spirits of the land, not just Ireland," Nina said. "Any place in the wilds, deep in nature, you will find the Sidhe. Different people in other lands may call them by other names but they are here.

Gather four large torches and place them at each of the directions. Put each fifteen feet from the bonfire. I want a large enough circle for everyone to be comfortable."

"Should we place guards outside if we are attacked?" he asked.

"No. I do not want any weapons. I want them to see us through the mists of the circle, the power of the _Crios_ , when we evoke the Sidhe," she replied.

Everyone worked quickly and soon the small encampment was ablaze with light. A cauldron hung on a tripod over the fire. In this a mixture of water, fresh herbs and local plants began simmering. The four torches, set at the quadrants, cast a golden radiance around the edge of the camp as everyone gathered within the perimeter of the circle of fire light. Men, women and children all stood facing the fire, encircling this. Only Nina and Codi remained separate.

Near the fire Codi had placed the stang. This was a wooden staff, six feet tall, with two prongs rising from the top to either side like the antlers of a stag or the horns of a bull. He had stuck this in the ground and placed a small plate of food and two small containers of wine in front of this.

In the forest, not more than one hundred feet from the circle, Nina was well aware that there were several Indians watching and waiting. She was gambling, this she knew. For at this moment she and the rest of the emigrants from Salem Village were completely vulnerable. None of them had weapons as they stood with their backs to the forest facing the central fire. Still, her instincts told her that this was the right move. The ritual they were about to do would almost certainly look similar to those the Indians themselves did.

She nodded to Codi. He, in turn, picked up a well-worn, hand carved wand of rowan wood. He made this himself many years before upon his acceptance into the Murias through the initiation rite known as the _maze._ The wand itself was a primary tool, representing the will and intent of the one who owned it. Tonight he took this to the edge of the circle, faced north, out toward the woods and held it high. He couldn't help but hope that those looking on wouldn't think of it as a threatening gesture.

There was silence in the woods as Codi focused on the wand. Then slowly he lowered it, pointing the tip out and began walking around the circle. As he did this, those sensitive enough to see became aware of a fine silvery-blue mist that began forming at the circle's edge. Codi projected the energy of his will though the wand, as if drawing a curtain around the group, creating the _Crios_ – the circle that at once protects and contains. He then returned to the center of the circle, taking his place near the fire.

"We have had no opportunity to gather in circle since we began our journey. I thought that tonight we should meet in ceremony to draw on the land that the spirits might aid us," Nina said.

She nodded to Freyja Ferguson, the _Llawforwyn,_ the circle maiden. Freyja reached out to those on either side of her, taking their hands. All in turn did the same. Then, almost in a whisper, Freyja began to half-chant, half-sing an ancient incantation in tones and words long forgotten by those no longer with roots in the Old Ways. Soon everyone in the circle had taken up the tune. Steadily their voices rose and fell with the rhythm of the incantation as a tangible flow of power began to rush around the circle. Faster and faster the pulse of power ran clockwise from person to person, gathering energy and momentum.

At the center of the circle, before the stang and cauldron, Codi and Nina clasped each other's hands. They too were passing the power between them. From hand to hand they formed a concentrated inner circle within the larger circle. But their chant was different from the group. Nina and Codi's voices rang with power.

"Come Sidhe, spirits of the land,

To this circle cast by our hand!

From tree and rock, hollow and pond,

We now call upon our bond.

Neache Sidhe, ancient dwellers and friends,

The veil is thin, it parts and bends.

Through sacred song we call you near,

Our voices strong, loud and clear.

Come Sidhe, spirits of the land,

To this circle cast by our hand!

As the two songs died away, the ground, the trees, in fact the forest itself took on an other-worldly glow. It appeared brighter, richer and full of life and energy. Nina couldn't help but be aware that the veil between the realms was growing thin. All in the circle could sense it. The effect was overwhelming. Nina knew that the Indians watching from the forest must have felt the power too.

Then, through the mists of the other-world, veiled forms began to appear. At first these were hard to discern. But slowly, steadily, they came into view. For many in the circle these appeared as spirits, apparitions, yet with form and substance. Most would see them dressed in clothes similar to their own. For others the shapes came through as cloaked beings of light.

The truth was that the Sidhe were spirits of an entirely different order than human, yet strangely drawn to the same. They could appear in many forms, for the mind of the observer adapted the image to the symbols that they could best understand.

For the Indian warriors, watching from the trees, the entire ritual had astounded them. While they were accustomed to their own medicine men calling the spirits, to see this small group of Whites do the same seemed almost impossible. Yet, the _Bokwjimen_ had come. The spirits of the forest, seen by the Indians as dwarves, moved through the foggy mist summoned by the Whites.

Nina walked to the edge of the circle. Behind her Codi and Freyja were carrying the plate of food and flasks of wine. The others in the circle parted letting them through. On the other side of the silver-blue veil the Sidhe moved. Their forms bright as they gathered near the point where Nina stood.

From the trees the Penacook warriors watched as Nina raised her hand. They could see the silver mist around the group suddenly open at the edge. The spirits approached as Nina set the plate of food and flasks of wine on the ground just outside the circle.

Low murmurs could be heard coming from Nina while an odd ringing sound seemed to fill the air where the spirits gathered. What passed between the White woman with the Golden Hair and the spirits, the warriors couldn't say. But it was clear that powerful medicine traveled with this woman and her people.

Nina watched one native from the corner of her eyes. Suddenly he moved and she thought she heard low voices, bird calls and branches moving.

"We will meet our next trial soon," Nina said softly. "Stay calm. That is our best defense. Remember we have friends."

The group ended the ritual and quietly broke up going to their respective family areas. Nina sat with Anne and the boys.

### Chapter Nine

Freyja sat on the edge of the low bench that served as a bed. Spinning, spinning, the wool twisting between her fingers forming the thread that connected her to the world, to life; Freyja could feel the thread forming between her fingers nimbly working the coarse wool from the distaff. With a skill unmatched by any of the other women in the group she spun the thread as she drifted in thought and feeling beyond the mundane task at hand. Trance overcame her quickly as she continued to work the fibers.

Soon Freyja felt the wind rushing over her as she found herself looking down at the vast expanse of woodlands and fields that spread out before her. There was a silver glow about the place that gave the land an eerie, otherworldly appearance. She felt as if she were rushing forward high above the land as the first appearance of the crescent moon hung on the western horizon.

She had changed, slipping into the fey world between realms. This was her gift, her talent. From childhood she had always been able to move between the worlds as easily as one enters or leaves through a door. Tonight the vision came clear, vivid, even more pronounced than in most others. She found herself changed into the form of a great hawk gliding over the land.

The stars glittered in the sky high above as she followed the light of the moon westward. Soon mountains rose to meet her as she continued her flight. Lakes and streams shone silver in the celestial light as the forests remained dark and dense.

Freyja always felt a sense of exhilaration during these otherworld journeys. She welcomed them, even relishing in the experience. This was as it should be. Her Mother had taught her this. She recognized the sight in Freyja soon after her daughter's birth. With her Mother's encouragement and direction Freyja soon learned to slip in and out of the worlds with ease.

Her Mother came from a line of Welsh women who had long been part of the hidden cult of the Goddess of the Cauldron. Long before the Christian era, this special sect of women had formed the mysteries surrounding the worship of the female in nature.

With links to the ancient Druids they were unique in their methods and training. Some called them the daughters of Cerridwen, the name of an early leader who years later came to be identified with the Goddess of the Moon and nature herself. In time her name became equated with both.

The original name of the sect had been forgotten long ago. Like so much else that had been lost, the daughters of Cerridwen had all but been disbanded. Only small groups, normally carried through family lines remained of the great lineage of the Goddess. The steady persecution inflicted by the foreign religion had taken its toll.

Still some of the teachings, those at the core of the mysteries, remained wrapped in myth and legend. Freyja's Mother was trained in the ancient ways of the Moon, as had every woman in Freya's family for as far back as anyone could recall. Naturally Freyja went through the secret rites. Brought up in the ways of this path, it was the first blood of puberty that signaled the time for Freyja's entrance into the mysteries through the steps hidden within the saga of the transformation of Cerridwen.

As the great hawk soaring under the stars Freyja continued her journey westward. She was searching for something, searching for a clue . . . a path . . . a sign. _But where was it?_

The fate of the Murias seemed murky. They had left Salem Village in a rush amidst accusations of Witchcraft. While hope remained that William would somehow find them and have word of a new home - this now seemed remote. In everyone's mind the one burning question was, _Where were they going?_ _Where was the home that they so desperately needed? Where were they to find the safety to survive and flourish?_

Spinning, twisting, the thread continued through her fingers, the thread that was her link between the worlds. The fine silver cord of life that spun between her body and her _taibhs_ \- her fey double - that loved to soar and change form; the two seemed interchangeable. Freyja was aware of both worlds, both realities - with the thread woven between the two.

The crescent moon's horns pointed skyward as She sank down on the rim of the horizon. Freyja continued racing toward the silver glint of the moon, its shape reminding her of a great bowl waiting to be filled.

Crossing over a low mountain range the dark forest trees gave way to a large expanse that shone silver under the stars. The closer she flew the brighter the glow from the ground became. Trees, shining silver and white in the combined glow of moon, stars and the world of the fey stood out against the darker expanse that surrounded this. There was something special about this place. An irresistible urge pulled at her heart as Freyja flew lower and closer over the tops of the white trees. Lakes and ponds dotted the woodland as small rivers and streams wound their way through the forest. _This was it! This was home!_

Just then the wool of the staff was gone. The thread connecting her between worlds ended. She found herself rushing back. Time and space suddenly collided. Freyja's eyes snapped open and she took a deep breath of air as she jolted from her trance. One hand was clenched around the distaff while the other held the last remaining wool that was the end of the thread.

### Chapter Ten

William and Elliot followed the river. They were at least a day or more behind their families. As they travelled along its steep banks, Elliot voiced what William thought.

"Their trail is like a cattle stampede," Elliot said. "Trees felled. Deep ruts in the road. My blind Grandmother could follow them if she was still alive."

"Yes," William agreed. "The carts slow them down and make them cut the path so wide."

Just then a voice called out, "English! Why English here?"

Elliot pulled up alongside William's horse.

"We seek our families," William replied. "They flee from the English."

A tall Indian warrior stepped from the brush. He stood in front of them. The horses sidestepped in surprise at his sudden appearance.

"Why?" the Indian asked. "You not French."

"We are not English either. We are Irish," William said. "They treat us badly."

"Irish?" the Indian said. "Not know this. Look English."

"We lived with the English," William replied. "They lied to us. They threatened our families. We are fleeing from them."

The Indian seemed to consider them for a moment before saying, "Come! Speak words to Chiefs."

William and Elliot surrendered the few weapons they had and followed the small group of warriors to their camp. Once they arrived at the Indian settlement they were placed in a small wigwam. Their horses and items were taken from them.

Food and water were brought by a young boy. William and Elliot barely spoke to one another both unwilling to voice questions to which they had no answer. Finally they lay down to sleep leaving their fates in the hands of the natives.

Time went by slowly but finally sleep overcame the two men. They awoke to the flap of the birch bark wigwam opening and a voice called to them, "Irish, come!"

It was the warrior they had met on the path. He led them to a longhouse covered with bark and woven reed mats. Elliot and William went inside. Their eyes slowly adjusted to the light.

"William!" a voice cried.

"Nina?" William replied, his eyes still having difficulty making out the forms in the dark, smoky lodge.

A figure in breeches came up to him, arms going about him, lips pressing to his. The scent of Nina filled him as he wrapped his arms around her. She was trembling. He held her fast in his arms.

"Are you all right?" William asked.

"Yes! Yes!" Nina said. "My love . . . "

"The boys. The . . . " William struggled with the next words, " . . . cart. Is everything well?"

"Yes," Nina replied. "All is well."

A cough behind them was a reminder that they were not alone.

"William, this is Chief Wuchowsen. Head of the general council," Nina began. "His people have offered to help us."

### Chapter Eleven

The Captain sat quietly as he listened to Wilton's request. His garrison was the last fully manned point. Further north and west there was only wilderness and natives.

Word of war had already spread. Tensions ran high and for more than six months small bands of scouts were continually being dispatched to monitor the surrounding area around the clock. Every armed man would be needed here to defend the settlements if war came to them.

Captain Jacobs knew the woman that Wilton spoke of. God had granted her great beauty in face and form. When the Dananns arrived a few years back it wasn't long before the tongues of the men wagged in huddled groups speculating about her favors.

And Wilton's employer, the Master Somes, Jacobs knew him well. As he preached the word of the Lord and sought to drive the Devil back to the pit of hell, Somes had deep faults of character. Greed was one and his lust for the flesh was another.

Whispers and rumors of his liaisons with the young women of his congregation led Goodwoman Somes to misery. She always looked pale and tired, hard and unfeeling. Yet once there must have been a time when she had joy in her heart. Being married to Master Somes robbed her of this.

"I cannot give you soldiers," Jacobs finally said. "But I can spare our native guide. Luke has been very good to us but I fear for his safety as war draws near."

"It will have to do," Wilton replied. "I wish to leave now. Where is this boy?"

"You will have him at dawn tomorrow," the Captain replied. "Come back then."

Jacobs twisted the silver button on his coat. He felt uneasy about this man, Wilton. And then there was the Danann woman. She had refused Somes advances loudly and publicly. Jacobs was not convinced that the Danann woman was a Witch. He would give them another day's lead. That was the best he could do.

### Chapter Twelve

"They go to the Sacred Lands," his Father began. "You will help guide and protect them."

"The Sacred Lands?" Waupee spit back. "The Whites are fighting each other up there. They desecrate what is sacred to us all."

"The medicine wheel is turning. Our time may be at an end here," the Chief said. "Legend says the Sacred Lands will endure when the Guardians come. They know the _Bokwjimen_. The _Bokwjimen_ know them. Several of our warriors saw them invoke the guardian spirits."

Waupee sat there considering his Father's words and thought, _Whites as protectors of the Sacred Lands?_ _My Father is getting too old and tired to head the general council._

"I know how you feel about the Whites, but these Whites are different. They are _medawlinno_ , of great medicine, like you. Especially Golden Hair," the Chief said thoughtfully. "She has great medicine in her and it is good. Have you not seen it?"

"Yes," Waupee admitted. "Which makes me fear them more. If the Whites have this power . . . and a woman with this power. . . "

"Trust me with this. I know you think I am old and foolish at times, but I believe our people may endure with their help," the Chief said. "And they cannot do it alone. Our medicines are linked."

The Chief looked down, away from his son for a moment. Then he straightened up and faced him. No longer a Father talking to his son, but as Chief.

"We have already given our word. You would not break that promise," the Chief said.

"No," Waupee said. "I will uphold the council's decision."

"Good. You will leave at dawn. Take three other warriors of your choosing," his Father said.

"But what about our people? You will need every warrior," Waupee said.

"You still do not see clearly," the Chief said. "The safety of these people and their quest is tied to our people."

### Chapter Thirteen

Wilton followed his Indian guide. He hadn't told him much just that they were to follow and not be discovered. Luke had been instructed by Captain Jacobs to obey Wilton's commands to the letter.

Even with his exceptional tracking skills it took some time but eventually Luke picked up their trail. Their quarry had managed to cross the river at some point. Luke wondered how he could have missed their trail and crossed over it so many times before finding it. He did not share this fact with Wilton. Once their path was found, Wilton wondered if he really needed Luke anymore.

But then they were approaching the Namaskik. There was a seasonal village set up near the falls. It also seemed that their party had camped near the village, but now they were gone. Their trail led directly to the Indian encampment.

"Just my luck," Wilton uttered. "They have been captured by the Indians."

"Maybe not," Luke replied. "No signs of struggle or fighting."

Wilton looked around. He was no tracker, but there was no sign of debris, bodies or blood. If there was a confrontation surely something would be left behind. All that was there beside trodden grass, foot prints and hoof prints in the soft earth was a campfire that had been extinguished.

"I know this tribe," Luke said. "I can go find out. You need to hide just in case."

Wilton agreed to Luke's plan and waited in hiding for Luke to return.

It was late at night when he heard Luke's horse coming for him.

"What is your report?" Wilton demanded.

"They are going northwest. To the Sacred Lands," Luke replied. "They are on a quest. I do not think we should follow them."

"Quest?" Wilton spat back. "They are dangerous individuals. We continue our mission."

"Dangerous?" Luke asked. "They are families seeking to protect the Sacred Lands."

"Do not let them fool you," Wilton replied. "Their cunning has already deceived a whole tribe and through them they deceive you."

"They will be harder to follow now," Luke said somberly. "Warriors were sent with them."

"Indian warriors?" Wilton asked.

"Yes. Their finest and bravest," Luke replied proudly.

"How many? How many Indians are with them?" Wilton said.

"They would not say," Luke said as he turned his horse back off the trail into the dark and thick brush.

"What are you doing?" Wilton demanded.

"Going ahead of them," Luke replied. "That way we are less likely to be discovered. We know where they are going."

Wilton followed. His mind was now weighing all the options. There was much more danger now as the group had somehow managed to secure savages for allies. _They must have used powerful magics,_ he thought. _Maybe they are all Witches - even the children!_

The deal he struck with Reverend Somes was very profitable for him. Somes would of course take ownership of the Danann farm and even some of the other families land holdings in Salem Village. Wilton's payment, besides the supplies he immediately needed, would be twenty pounds reward for the Danann Witch and five pounds for each of the others. Additionally Wilton would keep all the property the families had with them.

_Twenty-thousand acres,_ _Hobart's holdings and titles_ , Wilton smiled as he thought about it. Reverend Somes had no idea.

### Chapter Fourteen

The Talbot's small family camped in the wild. They had traveled for days, some of them were sick besides the injuries they sustained after escaping New Quebec. Governor Frontenac had already received the troops he requested to begin his attacks against the English colonies. Fighting was escalating and the Talbot's were afraid, very afraid. With no place to go, they went into the wild crossing the great river and headed south east. Louis hoped to lose their small family within the wild lands between the French, English and Dutch.

The local tribes were at an uneasy friendship with the French. The small family ran into a handful of warriors who weren't pleased with Whites in general. Louis, now the patriarch of the family, sustained a stab wound in the arm.

His elderly Father died at the hands of one of the warriors. Two of his daughters had diarrhea and the leg of his oldest boy, Pierre, was broken. Claudia, his wife, seemed to have developed a cough and fever.

"I am fine. Just fine," his wife said as she slid from the back of his horse, coughing deeply.

"We can camp here tonight. No fires though. At least until we find a more secure spot," Louis instructed.

Louis helped his injured son off the horse and got him settled on makeshift bedding that his sisters set up for him.

"Tomorrow we will try to cross the river. Then we should be far enough from the fighting that we can relax a bit," Louis said reassuringly.

He settled back on the ground, eating some dried meat and berries while Claudia passed out small pieces of bread. Food was running low. They didn't have much to begin with and they lost most of their belongings in the ambush further back. Hopefully, in the next few days, they could find a safe place of their own.

Rene, the youngest son, pulled out some herbs from his belt pouch. After mixing them with water, he gave the concoction to his Mother.

"Drink this," he said. "It will help with the cough."

Then he pulled out some other herbs and mixed these into two cups. He handed them to his sisters.

"This will help your bowels," he said smiling.

Rene had learned so much from his parents and especially his Grandfather. But now his Grandfather was gone along with all his knowledge. Still he had his Grandfather's books and tools. Those were one of the few things that were saved. When the unspoken decision came to grab something and run, Rene reached for his Grandfather's horse, with its saddle bag of books and herbs, and not the horse with food and supplies.

"It was a good decision," his Mother said to him after they were safe. "Some things are more important than others. You made a wise choice."

Rene's Grandfather had been the first of the immediate family to immigrate to New Quebec bringing with him his books and training in Hermetic renaissance thought. He was a member of the highly secretive order of the _Aureum Vellus_ which held as its central teaching the hidden mysteries of the _Golden Toyson_. He had taught his daughter, Rene's Mother, some of the teachings involved. However, it was Rene himself that his Grandfather left the real teachings to. Over the years he had tutored Rene slowly and carefully. These began as casual conversations huddled around the hearth or camp fire, late into the night. Eventually though, as Rene grew older, the lessons became much more complex.

Then, at the age of fourteen, his Grandfather initiated Rene into the inner workings of the Aureum Vellus. This was a powerful and highly secret ritual conducted in full ceremonial garb, invoking both alchemical symbolism as well as images drawn from the Hermetic Qabbala. From that moment on Rene had stepped onto an ancient path of occult knowledge with roots reaching back into the distant past.

### Chapter Fifteen

After leaving the _Namaskik,_ continuing on toward their new homeland, the going was still slow. Although the warriors knew the area fairly well, there were no roads or paths wide enough for the cumbersome carts. Talk often centered around lightening the loads, but unless they got rid of all their carts there was no point. Tools, food stores and books were too precious to be left behind. Their supplies were short enough as it was; they had left in such haste. Elders and children that could not hold their seat on a mount also used the carts. The slow progress of their travel also meant that the danger of running into conflict increased on a daily basis.

It was late into the night when they finally stopped for the evening. The families settled into their groups as each prepared for the mornings departure before bedding down. There was a tension in the air - their journey was still well ahead of them and the trials to come were as yet unknown. They were still at least a week from their destination.

Nina and her family were busy too. The boys were still excited to see their Father after so long and clung to him tightly. William shook them off and grabbed a small pail to get some water.

"Please sir, let me," Anne said and took the pail from Master Danann before he could reply. She hurriedly ran to the cart with the water, slowing during the last few steps and casually walked up beside Elliot Ducane as he filled a bag with water for his horse.

"Evening Master Elliot," Anne said.

"Evening," Elliot replied tipping his hat.

He began dipping water for Anne's pail from the cask.

"I am glad to see you back safely," Anne said.

"Thank you," he replied. "Good evening to you."

As he turned to walk away Anne followed him back to his horse. "Elliot . . . " Anne began, "I brought you these. Sadly they have not fared too well." She pulled a bundled cloth from her pocket and handed it to Elliot. She placed the water bucket on the ground and sat next to him on the small crate.

Elliot unwrapped the grease stained cloth revealing a pile of crumbs. "Shortcakes!" he said putting a small handful into his mouth. "Delicious!"

Anne always picked up a couple of shortbreads for Elliot when she went to the bakery. She thought he was a fine man although in the village there was little time or opportunity for affairs of the heart.

"I am sorry they are in such a poor state," Anne said.

"Thank you. They are very good," Elliot said.

Anne hesitated. "I am glad you are safe. You and Master Danann. That was dangerous business."

"Except for our own fears we never were close to trouble that we were aware of," Elliot said thoughtfully. "And the group as well. You all fared safely - it is almost as if . . ."

"Elliot . . ." Anne began, interrupting him. "Things have gone well. But I need to tell you . . . if things go badly . . ."

He turned to face her and she leaned into him, her lips pressing a warm kiss against his. The shortbread fell from his hands on to his lap, crumbs showering everywhere. Elliot pulled back to try and save the lost shortbread.

Freyja Ferguson walked by. "Evening Elliot," she said with a twinkle in her eyes and a broad smile for Elliot alone. Elliot's eyes were fixed on Freyja.

Anne's cheeks flushed with embarrassment. She rose from her seat, fists clenched and let out a strangled groan before she turned on her heel and marched back to her camp.

"Where is the water?" William asked when she returned.

"Get your own blasted water!" Anne roared then burst into tears and ran between the carts into the woods.

William turned to Nina, "Did she just say . . ."

"Blasted men!" Anne cried causing William and Nina to cringe.

Nina nodded. "Twice. Never have I seen her that upset. Watch the boys." Nina went to get up and follow Anne when Elliot rushed into their camp. "She went that way," Nina said pointing.

Elliot slipped between the carts following the sounds of Anne's sobbing.

"Where did she learn such language?" William whispered.

"You forget her Father is a sea captain," Nina said.

"Ah," William sighed and then looked around. "Do we have another pail?"

Later that evening Nina and William lay next to each other in the dark wrapped in one another's arms. Nina could hear her two boys snoring softly next to them. Anne, who was on the other side of the boys, seemed to be asleep as well softly sighing in her dreams. Bits of grass still clung to her hair.

William made a failed attempt to release Nina from her breeches. "If I was not so exhausted and you wore a proper petticoat . . ."

Nina laughed softly and whispered, "I have missed you too."

Nina buried her face against William's chest, holding him close.

"Twenty-thousand acres," Nina whispered. "That is so generous of Sir Hobart."

"Yes, his family understands the need to preserve the Old Ways. These are such dire and unpredictable times," William said.

"I was so frightened. When Anne came in and told me I was accused of Witchcraft, it was as if the world fell in on me. We knew it could happen, but we so hoped this would be a new beginning in Salem," Nina said.

"All is well," William replied. "We will start again at the territory Sir Hobart has granted us.

There was a pause as they stared up at the stars.

"We knew the time to leave was quickly coming upon us. You handled the evacuation beautifully. Everyone is alive and healthy and we have allies now, though I am worried," William said rolling onto his back.

"Worried about what?' Nina asked.

"The Abenaki are working with the French and attacking the English. We are not French and we were granted the land by the English," William said.

"The Indians know we are running from Salem Village. We have shown them that we are not with the English or the French, and this tribe is Penacook. They are part of the Abenaki, but still their own tribe. They recognized the Sidhe as their own spirits. They kept calling them Bokwjimen. It must be their name for the Sidhe," Nina said.

"The Indians call the land we are going to _Wobawazauke_. What does it mean?" William said.

"The Chief told me it meant _The Place of White Woods_ and it is sacred to them. He said that the old ones, the spirits, are strong there. I do not think that they would have let us go there if it was not for their medicine man – the equivalent of our _Asarlaí_. After we got to the Penacook camp he summoned the Bokwjimen. He told the Chief we were going to Wobawazauke – their sacred lands," Nina said.

"Before I arrived?" William asked.

"Yes," Nina said, "before you arrived. None of us knew where we were going or that you had a land grant at all. Although Freyja believes she has seen it in a vision."

William rolled over and looked at Nina. "This is important. There is something drawing us to those lands. Something important we need to do there," he said.

"It is the Geassa, Will. The bond. So much has been lost . . . so many ancient teachings gone. Maybe there we can reawaken them, preserve the Ancient Ways," Nina replied.

### Chapter Sixteen

Wilton and Luke set their camp on the east ridge of the mountain sheltered by the tallest trees Wilton had ever seen. He wondered about these trees, each one begun by seed or acorn and left wild and untouched to grow into this massive virgin forest. And there were so many! As far as the eye could see - and Wilton _saw_ . . .

Aloud he murmured, " . . . ship masts . . . houses . . . hard woods for fine furniture . . . "

Luke just pretended not to hear Wilton. He, too, was in awe of the majestic scenery although he had seen it many times. But he wondered if the destruction of the land or the people was part of any creator's plan. Although forced to attend sermons with the Whites, he was unwilling to cleave unto a God that would look down with disgust at his people and rape the land. Conversely, where was the Great Mystery? Why is this destruction and heartache allowed to pass? Maybe there is no one. No powerful, loving creator or God.

"It is up to the people, each person, to choose their path," his Father often said. "Find the spirit within and you will find your path on the land."

His Father's path led to trusting the Whites and dying by their hand. Their final insult was to burn all the decapitated bodies in a huge, smoldering mass that stunk for weeks afterwards. The heads were put on pikes to warn other Indians not to trespass. _Indian Head Road_ it would be called by the locals.

Luke decided he would not take his Father's path. He would make his own - away from the Whites and probably his people who mistrusted him anyway. After his family was slaughtered, he spent much of his youth growing up in the barracks with men who looked down on him.

Except for Captain Jacobs. He never had a cross word or a sharp look for Luke - unless it was warranted. Jacobs seemed to truly care for the boy. But Jacobs was very far away. Luke would probably not see him again. After satisfying Jacobs last command to assist Wilton, he would not return to the barracks. He'd set off on his own. Jacobs never expressly commanded him to come back nor was he an enlisted soldier.

"What do we do now?" Wilton finally snarled at Luke.

"We wait," Luke said.

"How long?" Wilton snapped.

"A week, maybe two. We travel light. They have many people, children, elders, carts and animals. They are moving slow," Luke said.

Wilton scowled at Luke, but there was nothing to be done. They had to wait.

Luke thought about spending two weeks with bad-tempered Wilton.

"I will be back in a few days," Luke said.

"Where are you going? You need to stay here with me!" Wilton said. "What if I need protection?"

"I am not here to protect you. I am here to guide you. We need food. I am going hunting. You should gather more wood for that fire," Luke said as he mounted his horse.

"Gather wood? I should gather wood?" Wilton's voice was starting to squeak as it did when he became agitated.

Wilton couldn't see his face as Luke trotted out of camp, but Luke was grinning ear to ear.

### Chapter Seventeen

The going was slow and arduous as the teams of carts, horses and livestock made their way through the trails of the forest. The Penacook braves knew the terrain well, following paths each had taken as young men. As part of their rite of passage into adulthood each was required to go on a quest to the sacred lands. There they would seek a vision and communion with the spirits of the forest before they could return home. Upon their return the medicine man would interpret the vision but it had been many seasons since they had made the trek.

While the Wobawazauke – The White Woods – lay outside of Penacook territory it was still a part of the Abenaki nation. The tribe that once governed the region was the Sokoki. Over the past several decades their numbers in this area had dwindled. They had been ravaged by war and disease eventually retreating north into Canada and Maine. Still they were a proud people. The Chiefs of the Penacook knew this. The Sokoki would be more than a little uneasy allowing this rag-tag group of White fugitives to settle in their lands, especially the sacred White Woods. But he also knew that the outlaws carried great _baaxpee_ – strong medicine. This was especially true of _Golden Hair_ , the name the Penacook had given to Nina.

As the band of settlers crossed into the Sokoki territory and the border of the Wobawazauke, something shifted in the air around them. Everyone was aware of the change as they turned with curious glances at one another. A smile would spread across their face as each realized they were passing through a veil that surrounded the Sacred Lands bridging both worlds within its embrace.

Waupee was to go on ahead. This was at his Father's insistence. Waupee was to approach the Sokoki council informing them of the group's arrival and intent. When Nina heard of the plan she insisted that she go with Waupee. In the short time that she had spent with the Penacook she soon realized that while the Chiefs were usually men it was the women of the tribe who held the real power. Theirs' was a matriarchal society, governed by long standing clans. Families all had voices in matters of concern. Although decisions on war would generally be left to the men, it was the women who had the final word in all things.

In many ways this was very similar to the Murias and Nina's own heritage. The Murias was a collection of families all with roots back before the Christian era. All were bound by ancient traditions and arcane teachings. While both sexes were considered equal, like the Penacook, it was the women who ultimately made the final decisions. Even though the group was headed by the _Master_ , a position held by men, the Master always bowed to the authority and wisdom of the Banriona. She was the spiritual leader and matriarch of the Murias.

William didn't like the fact that Nina was going off alone with the warrior to the Sokoki encampment. He wanted to be with her in case things didn't go well. Further, there were so many dangers in these unpredictable times. The French and English were again at war. Various Indian tribes fought each other as they came to form alliances. Still the Penacook had been true to their word.

Nina, on the other hand, was certain that this was the only way to secure the Sokoki's consent. Dressed in her husband's breeches, a long sleeve shirt and her husband's waistcoat Nina packed a bed roll and extra clothes behind the saddle of her horse. She filled one saddle bag with food. In the other bag she placed a few well chosen items.

Once packed, the final farewell hugs, kisses and whispers were swiftly exchanged; Nina and Waupee mounted their horses and set off for the long house of the Sokoki council. She didn't turn around as they slowly made their way out of the small camp. Her face was streaked with tears.

Their horses walked steadily along the narrow, overgrown trail toward the Sokoki council. Waupee still did not trust the Whites, nor was he sure the council's decision was best for their people. He had spoken with this woman, the one with the Golden Hair, on several occasions. Although he cared little for the others, something stirred within him for her.

"Cry like child?" he said in broken English. He had never seen her in tears.

"I miss my family," Nina replied. "I miss my homeland and my Da. I miss my sons and my husband."

"Go back," Waupee said.

"There is no going back. My Da passed on before we came to the New World. My homeland is being ravaged by the British. My family is here. My sons and my husband," Nina said. "Our work is what is most important and I must see this through."

"Stay. William make Nina cry. Waupee kill William. Make Nina wife," Waupee said. "Nina not cry."

Nina's eyes widened in shock and Waupee kicked his horse into a trot creating distance between them. Nina composed herself enough to follow him and not be left behind in the wild; she quickly caught up with him at a stream bed.

Waupee had dismounted and was drinking from the stream. Nina slid off her horse and came up behind him.

"Never say that again!" Nina cried. "Not even in jest!"

Waupee slowly rose and turned to her. "Nina great medicine. Waupee great medicine." He grabbed her and pulled her to him. "Make great medicine . . ." His voice became softer saying, "Long time . . . back . . . we great medicine . . ."

Nina twisted and tried to push him away, but he held her fast. In Waupee's eyes she saw deep desire and deep pain. She had seen those eyes before. "No!" she screamed.

He released her. "Nina know Waupee heart."

"Are you going to take me to the Sokoki Council or not?" Nina demanded; her voice shaky.

Waupee turned to look at her. "Waupee word true!"

"Then on your word, on your honor you will take me there unmolested," Nina said.

Waupee looked away from her. "Waupee not hurt. Not make Nina cry." He mounted his horse and began walking the trail toward the Sokoki Council.

Nina followed behind and they both rode in silence, eventually breaking through the trees and brush long after the sun was long past its midday mark. A huge owl came up from the path, silently gliding above, it's great shadow slid over them and the breeze from the wake of its passing stirred Nina's hair, leaves and the grasses around them. She looked up in awe at the huge wing span as it passed before it was gone. Nina felt heady from the experience.

The path before them opened up into a lush valley. They followed the rise, down into the valley passing small wigwams and people who seemed uninterested at the strangers within their midst.

First casually glancing, Nina began to feel she knew some of these people. They were natives and Nina had only met a handful before this journey but something pricked at the back of her mind. She _knew_ many of them of that she was certain. _But from where?_

Waupee continued the length of the valley and stopped before a long house and dismounted. A tall man with long black hair took both horses. Nina gasped as she looked into his knowing eyes, her body suddenly cold as if thrown into a pond. She rubbed her arms trying to remove the chill and waited silently with Waupee before the longhouse.

"Not same," Waupee said.

"What do you mean?" Nina said.

"Not same," Waupee said shrugging and motioning with his hands.

A small boy appeared from the doorway, gesturing for them to enter. Waupee motioned to Nina to go first and followed closely behind her.

The lodge was dark and smoky. It took a few moments for Nina to adjust her eyes. She sat next to Waupee facing the men and women sitting along the back wall of the lodge setting her saddle bags next to her.

Greetings were exchanged in their native tongue and Nina nodded and smiled when appropriate. Waupee translated as his limited English allowed between the members of both groups. He understood more than he spoke. Then there was a long silence as the lead members sat with their eyes closed as if deep in thought.

"What do we do now?" Nina whispered to Waupee. _Maybe they have fallen asleep?_ Nina thought.

"Shh. Wait," was his reply.

Nina sat there as anxiety built up within her. She tried to remain still. Her legs began to hurt as the circulation was cut off in their current position. Numbness began spreading up her calf as pins pricked in her foot. Every so often she heard a ringing sound.

Eventually their eyes opened. One man rose and turned toward the wall where a length of cloth was stretched. He pulled it to one side revealing a dark opening and gestured for Nina to enter.

Nina turned to Waupee. Her eyes held surprise and curiosity. "Go," Waupee said.

She rose, picking up her saddle bags but Waupee swiftly reached for them, Nina reluctantly letting her grip from them. Rising to her full height, she ran her hands over her trousers to smooth them and tried not to limp on her numbed foot as she took her steps toward the small opening. Bending down to her knees, she began to crawl down the dark tunnel.

### Chapter Eighteen

Sipsis was one of the runners delivering the message from the tribe currently at the _Namaskik._ The message was short and straightforward: A White woman and their families were traveling to the _Wobawazauke_. They were favored by the _Bokwjimen_ and should be unharmed, if not assisted.

One of the youngest and fastest boys, he had begged his Mother to let him do this errand. Being shorter than most boys his age, he was taunted by the other children. His Mother relented hoping that his swiftness would bring him acclaim and that the importance of the errand would shelter him from harm.

So he ran and ran - crossing streams, climbing rocks, sliding down hills - only stopping occasionally to take a quick drink from a stream or to catch his breath on brief occasions. He kept running. He ran . . . and ran . . . and ran - right into the Talbot's camp, stumbling over the saddle bags, landing face down in front of the women.

The girls shrieked. Louis quickly dropped the traps he was setting and ran back to the camp. His eldest son was pointing his gun at the young Indian boy cowering on the ground.

"Papa!" : "He is going to kill us!" : "He is going to rape us!" the girls cried.

"Do not shoot!" Louis growled at his son. "And quiet down!" Louis wondered if the gun would fire, everything was so damp.

"He just came charging in and tripped on our supplies," Claudia said. "I think we surprised him as much as he surprised us."

"What are you doing here?" Louis demanded of the boy in French.

"No France," the boy said shaking his head and patting his mouth.

"He is not French. Anyone with eyes can see that!" said the eldest girl sarcastically.

"No. I think he means he does not speak French," Claudia said and gave her daughter a disapproving look.

"Do you speak English?" Claudia asked the boy in French.

Louis just shook his head at his wife. "Speak English?" Louis asked in English.

The boy nodded emphatically, "Little. Yes. English."

"Are you alone?" Louis asked.

The boy shrugged, "Not know."

"How many Indians?" Louis asked.

The boy shrugged again, "Not know."

"How many Whites?" Louis asked. Then pointed to himself he said, "One White," pointing to his son, "Two Whites," and held up two fingers. He continued counting around the camp until he was done.

"No," the boy replied and held up one finger. "One Indian. Me."

Louis was somewhat relieved but told his family to keep watch. Then he proceeded to find out what brought this boy into their camp.

After a long while, with much cursing, laughing and frustrated grunts, Louis went to his wife.

"His English is bad and I believe mine is worse," Louis said.

"Did you find out anything?" Claudia asked. "Why is he here?"

"He is delivering a message to the other tribes," Louis said. "And here is where it gets odd. He says a 'group' of Whites are going to some place. I think it is special."

"So what is so odd about that? He could be describing us," Claudia said.

"Well, it is how he is describing the Whites. Says they are not French, English or even Quakers. But one woman is very . . . special - is all I can get out of him. He calls her Golden Hair," Louis frowned.

"Dutch? Not the Dutch!" Claudia said. "We do not need war with the Dutch! Those damn English!"

"I do not know. He had other words too - I am not sure what they meant," Louis said.

"What words?" Claudia asked.

" _Wobawazauke_ and _Bokwjimen_. The _Bokwjimen_ have to do with the land I think. Nature maybe. But this boy believes in the _Bokwjimen's_ importance," Louis said.

"So what do we do? Let him go?" Claudia asked.

"I guess so," Louis said. "Hopefully he will not give us away. He is so young. I do not want to take a life needlessly."

"Yes. It is a chance we take. But we can not take him prisoner either. We have little food as it is and can scarcely keep ourselves on horseback," Claudia said.

"Maybe you should do a reading," Louis said.

" . . . of the boy? What is his name anyway?" Claudia asked.

"Sipsis," Louis replied. "Yes. Read the boy. I will get him ready - explain what we are doing if I can."

Sipsis wasn't quite sure what Louis meant, but he agreed. He didn't think they were going to kill him. Not yet anyway. They were hurting themselves. Wounded and sick. Their animals were worn hard and thin.

"Sipsis," Claudia began softly. As she continued speaking, Louis interpreted the best he could. Then Claudia sat before Sipsis. From a small bag she produced a bundle wrapped in a piece of white cloth. Opening the bundle a deck of well worn playing cards came into view.

They were old, an heirloom passed down through generations within her family. As a young girl Claudia had sat watching her Grandmother shuffle the cards and lay these out to read them for family and close friends. The accuracy of her prophecies had become well known in the small village in France where Claudia grew up. When her Grandmother passed on, Claudia inherited the cards and along with them a reputation for uncanny prediction.

Unlike most decks this one had long since lost all of the cards below the seventh. Rather only the sevens up through the court cards and aces in each suit remained. This was by design. For only these cards were thought to carry any strong significance in French occult circles.

Claudia considered their guest carefully before pulling out the knave of clubs and placing this face up between herself and Sipsis. She shuffled the cards for several moments all the while keeping her gaze fixed on the young man's eyes. Then, slowly she started to lay the cards out into groups of three until the entire deck was exposed face upward. Moving her hand over each grouping she pulled the highest denomination card with two or more of the same suit from each grouping and placed these to either side of the knave of clubs. Picking the remaining cards up, she shuffled these and again laid these into groups of three. Once again she pulled the highest card from each grouping with two or more of the same suit and placed this in line with the cards resting with the knave of clubs. Over and over she continued until all of the cards were picked and placed in the old French oracle.

Looking down at the cards Claudia was silent. She carefully considered each in relation to the cards nearby. Louis looked on as Claudia began to speak.

"The ace of diamonds is sitting between the card representing our guest and the knave of diamonds. Sipsis is telling the truth. He carries a message that must get through. News concerning a fair haired woman, the queen of hearts rests nearby," Claudia paused.

Louis translated the reading in his broken English so that the boy would also understand a measure of the reading.

She continued, "but there is danger that even our friend here does not know about. The ace and ten of spades both stand at a short distance, as if waiting nearby. The danger of some form of bondage and death lurks in the shadows."

"Danger for who?" Louis asked.

"I am not certain, but much revolves around the group of people traveling with the queen of hearts," Claudia replied.

" _Medawlinno! Baaxpee!_ " Sipsis cried. "You go _Wobawazauke!_ You go Golden Hair! _Bokwjimen_ want you go!"

Claudia pulled away from the boy.

"He says we should go to Golden Hair. Is this good or bad that he wants us to go?" Louis asked.

"I think it is good. Where exactly does he want us to go?" Claudia said.

"West of here. Probably our safest bet," Louis said thoughtfully. "I had actually decided going west was our best option before our guest arrived.

"Can you draw a map? Show us how to go there?" Louis asked in English.

Sipsis shook his head yes, grabbed a stick and began drawing on the ground.

Claudia wondered if the danger following these people would put them at greater risk, but that was something she could discuss with her husband later that evening.

### Chapter Nineteen

Nina had to crawl on her knees for a dozen feet or more. The entrance to the cave was narrow, its ceiling low, its path seeming to go well below ground. Soon the passage began to level out and widen. She was able to stand, although stooped, until the passage opened into a large expanse.

It was dark inside. Ahead of her there was a fire, but no hint of walls or the ceiling could be detected by her. There was nothing but the shadow of a person sitting next to the fire. Nina walked toward the light. The figure gestured for her to sit down beside her.

Nina sat before the fire next to what appeared to be a young woman. She wore a beautiful cape of deer skin beaded with porcupine quills and shells in intricate designs which seemed to move on their own in the firelight. Nina tried to guess the woman's age. She looked young, but her face seemed to have a timeless beauty that could not be defined by years. The only features that Nina could clearly see were the woman's eyes which were beautiful - large and dark, sparkling in the fire's light.

The woman silently offered Nina a drink from a bowl. Nina sipped the thick, bitter mixture as the woman threw a handful of herbs onto the fire. Her hand came up under Nina's bowl encouraging Nina to drink again. Nina drank deeper and the woman threw another handful of herbs onto the fire.

"You will tell me your path," her voice was rich with age and deep in wisdom. "You will tell me who you are."

Nina cleared her throat. The smoke in the cave was becoming thick and she was getting warm. "Nina. My name is Nina." Nina pulled at her waistcoat to loosen it. With one hand she struggled with the buttons. She was becoming extremely uncomfortable and she suddenly felt slow and heavy.

"You will tell me your path. You will tell me who you are," the voice came again in Nina's head.

"I am Nina. We have great knowledge to protect . . . " Nina began to swoon, unable to keep her eyes open. She put her arms before her, resting against them lest she fall over.

The woman threw another handful of herbs onto the fire. Smoke made it hard for Nina to see the woman now - only her eyes seemed to be visible in the darkness. Nina looked up, her eyes straining to focus. Eyes peered back at her from all around the edges of the dark expanse of the cave.

"Tell me your path. Tell me who you are," the voice came again and Nina realized the woman was not speaking in the conventional sense.

Nina struggled to breathe. She struggled to think. _What does she want?_ Nina knew she had been drugged and struggled to keep conscious.

She steadied her breathing and reached deep within for her inner light, wrapping her mind about it, letting it calm her, helping her focus. Slowly Nina raised herself back up into a sitting position and opened her eyes. The two women sat there, eyes locked on one another. The questions came again to Nina's mind and Nina opened hers to answer.

Images began flooding the mind of the woman in the cape. Huge continents sank despite the powers of their _medawlinnos._ Their people fled on great ships - greater than the ones that the White men arrived in - and landed on green, fertile lands which they loved and cared for. Their great magics, their great knowledge, their great treasures scattered to the four winds.

Again and again they were slaughtered and chased from their lands by those seeking to steal their _baaxpee_ for their own purposes and destroy what they could not tame not knowing that it could not be separated from nature and survive. Each life was worked toward the preservation of their ancient ways. It was clear that this White woman and many others spent countless ages together on the same path.

Scenes from Nina's life flashed through her own mind. Her family. William and the boys. Images of Anne, their times together, how they felt like sisters. Then there were the memories of her works, the Murias, her Da, her ancestral home, meeting William, her childhood.

Her mind slipped through this life and to lives before, sinking further and further into the past. Images of her many incarnations flooded her mind. She recognized many of those around her - Anne, William, her boys, her Da and others. The names of the others came and went, but their faces and presence remained fast within her mind. Waupee was there and the tall Indian who took their horses, the woman at the well, the old man smoking before the fire.

Anne stood with her in an underground chamber as they worked a strange ritual. The barbarian warlord who laid his kingdom at her feet was William she was sure. As she stood on the deck of the great ship - a ship larger than any of the Royal Navy - the long haired blonde man who slipped his arms around her was surely the native who took their horses.

Her Da and boys were at her death bed in some exotic room with incenses burning and brightly embroidered tapestries of a curious design. Other lives passed before with those she recognized over and over again.

Now she seemed to fly above a great many island continents that rose from the sea. The old man smoking by the fire was young and wearing white robes seated on a throne. The woman at the well was now old and being carried in an open palanquin. Their temples slowly began unbuilding. Their monuments unerected. The islands sank below the waters again and the ocean became calm and serene.

Nina was the stars in the sky. They shimmered and pulsed in the darkness of space when, without warning, they fell to earth, sinking deep below the surface creating great ocean waves. She danced below the waters as a million points of light before shooting out, pushed upwards by a great force and spreading out again above the sky. The sound of glass shattering and bird's wings beating almost deafened her as she again became the stars in the heavens. Now the sense of rising stopped. For a moment her force was suspended across the heavens, weightless, floating effortlessly in the dark space.

Then, without warning, she felt as if she would fall again but was held gently, supported by the strength of the sky. She knew William's force. She knew Nwyrve's soul. Together the stars and sky trembled against one another before merging into one being, one force as the two great cats on the horizon roared.

In an instant everything was bright white and blinding. Nina slammed back into her body, her eyes snapped open, the breath expelled from her lungs as if she had actually fallen. She was lying in the dark cavern with only the smoldering fire for light gasping for breath. Her head ached, her mouth was dry and her joints were stiff and sore. The woman picked up a bowl and offered her a drink.

Nina drank deeply. This time it was just cool water. Her head swam and she closed her eyes. When she opened them again, the woman was gone and the fire was out. She saw light leaking in through the darkness from a place where she believed marked the passage back to the longhouse. Cautiously she made her way across the dark, cavernous expanse and headed for the light.

Crawling through the passageway, she finally emerged inside the longhouse. Waupee was sitting where she left him, her saddle bags beside him. The others were still there. They quickly pulled the cloth over the entrance of the tunnel behind her and took their positions on the floor.

Nina sat beside Waupee. He looked at her carefully. The old man was the first to speak.

"We know who you are. Heavy responsibilities weigh on your shoulders," he began in English. "This is a great burden for one woman."

"I am not alone in this quest," Nina replied. "There are many in my family and many other families who all willingly share in this purpose. That is why we seek the Sokoki Council's support."

"The Sokoki Council has long gone from this place. We are all that remain," the old man said.

Nina was confused. She hadn't expected this. Would these people have the same sway, the same authority to help her?

The old man continued to speak. "You have walked this path many times as we all have. Our time is at an end here. Perhaps if you had come before the great darkness fell upon this land . . ."

"Is there no hope? Chief Wuchowsen said that your people would endure as long as the Sacred Lands were kept," Nina said. "We can do this together. We can both endure."

Nina again heard the odd ringing sound.

The old man did not look convinced.

"Please!" Nina cried. "Is there no way? We have come so far, risked so much and the great knowledge will be lost forever if you refuse us! I cannot believe the Gods would lead us on this path for naught!"

Ringing sounded again. Nina quickly turned her head to see where it might be coming from.

"We will not refuse you from settling these lands," the old man said. "But if you insist on this path you cannot turn back. Especially you, Golden Hair. Once you accept these lands as your home, you will not be able to leave them and return to them again in this life."

Nina drew in a slow, deep breath. At least they could settle here and she was sure she had no desire to ever leave far from her home again. They continued to talk, making courtesies and small promises to one another in the form of future trades and support facilitated though the Penacook tribe. Nina laid the skin of mead, some cakes, bags of herbs and fine powders on the rug between them as a small token of thanks.

As Waupee and Nina rose to make their leave the odd ringing sounded again. The small boy was still in attendance at the doorway. Nina smiled at him as she stepped outside into the bright morning sun.

The great shadow of the owl passed over her again. "Twice we have seen that owl in daylight. That is odd."

" _Siômoak_ ," Waupee said trying to gesture a hawk but Nina only understood it as a great bird.

Nina saw their two horses wandering freely through the tall grasses. There were no people around and the wigwams were all gone. The stone well was now covered with vines and small bushes. Quickly she turned around to look at the lodge. Its walls were rotting and a rabbit sitting in the doorway darted out past her into the grass.

She ran back into the lodge. No one was there. The roof was full of holes and threatened to fall in at the next good breeze. The tattered cloth that covered the tunnel entrance was moth eaten and hanging by threads. Nina pulled the cloth back to reveal stones piled in the entrance to seal it. On the floor were tattered rugs and in the center lay the mead skin and her other gifts.

Waupee stood in the doorway behind her.

"What happened?" Nina said softly. "Where is everyone?"

"Here. Always here," Waupee said. "Waupee people gone many seasons."

She turned to him, tears in her wide eyes. "Why?"

"Fight. War. Not many know Old Ways," Waupee said. "Waupee people - four winds, like Irish."

Nina collapsed to her knees on the floor and began to sob. Waupee went to her. "Please. Not cry." His arms went around her and she pressed against him, her body shaking uncontrollably.

Nina's tear stained face turned up to look at Waupee. "You could come back. Your people. You. Return to this place and work the old magics." Her heart was breaking at the thought of how close these people were to losing something so precious forever.

"Not one Waupee," Waupee said looking into her eyes. He brushed the golden strands from her face and let his fingers caress her cheek. "Waupee and Nina make great magic - old seasons past," he said softly. Again she heard a deep ringing, but this time it sounded like a warning.

Her eyes looked into his. She saw the times he spoke of. The rush of power. The passion of spirit. At that moment her hold on this life evaporated. She plunged back to a time where the two were one. Her arms went around him, her mouth on his. He did not resist. He returned her passion almost crushing her in his arms.

They held on to one another. Waupee pushed the waistcoat from her shoulders, the cord to her shirt collar loosened and he slid the cloth down, exposing her shoulder and the swell of her breast. His mouth and lips caressed her neck, shoulder and the rise of her bosom as his hand slid over the cotton fabric covering her firm nipple.

Nina was lost in this embrace. She wanted this. She wanted him now. Her breathing rapid and shallow. Her body aching for more. As her hands pulled him tighter, the ringing became loud and discordant, Waupee suddenly tensed and pulled back.

"Nina," he said softly at first looking into her eyes that seemed to look through him. "Nina!"

She blinked and then hesitated before pushing away at him. Quickly she clutched at her clothing, pulling it into place. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment and anger at herself for her behavior.

"Not Waupee and Nina time," he said. Waupee rose and walked out of the lodge.

Nina tried to wrap her mind around the situation. Working the buttons of her waistcoat, she noticed one was missing. Her eyes scanned the dusty floor and feverishly picked up the disintegrating rugs but the button was no where to be found. Giving up on her search, she hurried to the doorway. Waupee was already mounted on his horse and waiting for her.

"Waupee," she called.

"Hurry. William," he said.

"My William!" Nina said breathlessly. "What will he think?"

"Waupee not talk. Nina not talk. William not think," Waupee said.

"But we . . ." Nina began.

"Waupee and Nina not," Waupee said. " _Bokwjimen_ touch Nina. Touch mind. Touch old things. Old seasons. Strong things. Land strong here. Touch strong here."

Nina gathered the reins of her mount. "Perhaps it was a lesson," Nina finally said thoughtfully. "We are all linked at one time or another. Perhaps that is the lesson?"

"White and savage same?" Waupee said smiling. " _Illôda_ and savage same?"

"The English believe we Irish are less than savages. I would think all of us are although many would not like that truth," Nina said softly after mounting her horse. "If they did we would not be fighting to survive." Nina heard the ringing now soft and distant.

She silently followed Waupee back to their camp. They arrived well after dark. Although much of her experience within the cave was lost, Nina shared what little news she had. The knowledge that the Sokoki Council had left the Sacred Lands had some heavy meaning, although no one was sure exactly what that meant.

So they continued on to their final destination. The warriors led them deeper into the forest, crossing hills and streams. Eventually they came to a sheltered opening atop one of the rises. Nearby was a small stream that fed a large pond below.

Shortly after they arrived and selected a camp site the four Penacook warriors departed for their homes leaving the families of the Murias on their own. Nina watched as they left following the long trail down the hill and again up the next rise. At the top of the hill Waupee stopped and turned his horse around. Nina raised her arm in farewell and Waupee swiftly turned his mount and disappeared over the crest of the hill. Sadly Nina knew she would never see him again.

### Chapter Twenty

Louis had carefully transferred the map that Sipsis drew on the ground to his small journal. Notes and instructions were dutifully marked as well. They were to follow a system of waterways to the _Wobawazauke_ which, to the best of his understanding, was a large expanse southwest of their current position.

Claudia frowned as she understood the immense task before them. _How would they find the woman with the Golden Hair in an area that large?_

When it was clear that they had all the information that they could get from this young boy, Claudia packed a small bag of food from their meager stores and sent him on his way.

"Why did you give him so much?" Louis said in a frustrated tone.

"He had nothing," Claudia said. "You need to check your traps."

Louis grunted and went back to where he had dropped his traps. Then he checked on the two that had been set before he was interrupted by the arrival of the young Indian boy. One of them held a large, fat rabbit that trembled in fear as Louis approached.

As he looked into the frightened rabbit's eyes he recognized the same fear he had seen in Sipsis' eyes when he first saw him. Louis thought about letting the beast go. They would go to bed with hungry bellies this evening and have nothing for the morning but tea if they chanced a fire.

Louis reached down and grabbed the rabbit by the ears as he worked to release the trap. The animal's leg was bloody and broken. He whispered an apology to the rabbit as he quickly snapped its neck and put it out of its misery.

When he returned to their camp he found Claudia sitting on the ground with her cards.

Before they were married, Louis was well aware of Claudia and her family's talents. Although he was never drawn to the Arts himself, he accepted their importance. So when his children were drawn to the same, he welcomed their interests as well.

"What do you see?" Louis asked.

"Many decisions. Hard work," Claudia said. "A difficult journey."

Louis knelt beside her and tapped one card. "And this?"

It was the Ace of Spades. Louis had remembered the meanings of some of the cards and this one represented death.

Claudia shrugged. "It could be many things. A great change to our lives. Death of our old life and beginning anew."

"Or it could be what it is," Louis said grimly.

"Well it is close to the queen of hearts again. When we catch up with them it is clear our lives will never be the same," she said thoughtfully.

Louis handed Claudia the rabbit and instructed her to slice it thin. They would risk a small fire to cook it. Rene collected green twigs and peeled them to skewer the slices of meat while Louis collected dry kindling for a hot fire that would burn out quickly without smoking too much.

They arose early the next morning with a sense of purpose. Everyone seemed in better humor and full of energy. The uncertainty of their future had given way to a direction - a mission - a final destination.

Their trek was slow and short each day. Pierre could not stay in the saddle for more than a few hours at a time so they usually camped early, using the final hours before sunset to hunt, trap and forage. Rene had killed three grouse with his slingshot and found a patch of wild leeks. Each time Louis set his traps he always caught at least one rabbit. They came upon thick patches of blackberries, mushrooms and other edibles.

They followed the waterway and when it branched they took the direction that Sipsis had given them until they came upon a junction that was not on their map.

"Which way?" Claudia asked her husband.

Louis studied the map trying to figure out what was wrong. "I think we may have turned wrong at one of the branches."

Reaching into her bodice, Claudia withdrew a small stone suspended on a fine chain around her neck. She held the long chain away from her with one hand. With the other she held the stone until it was motionless. When it was still, she gently removed her hand, closed her eyes and slowly the stone began to swing.

"It points us from the waterway," Louis said concerned.

"Well that is west, is it not?" Claudia said.

Louis nodded and the family turned into the thick forest, away from the water, in the direction given by the pendulum.

### Chapter Twenty-One

During their long journey William took the time to consider their future. Summer was quickly slipping by. The natives warned that the snows could be coming in as little as two moons. They needed shelter for themselves and their animals. Storage for their tools and goods. Time was against them and their current supplies would not carry them through the coming winter months alone.

William had huddled with the men, individually or in small groups at meal times, during breaks and many times late into the night. The last few days seemed to be the most productive and difficult. Long talks and discussions distracted him from Nina's departure and the current uncertainty of their situation.

These talks were dutifully noted in his small journal. Among the cramped writing were sketches and designs of building ideas. In the lists of needs and duties to be performed, in order of importance, there were the names of those assigned to those tasks.

All this work and planning paid off when they finally came to the end of their long journey. Everyone, even the children, set about arranging the camp.

Stones were carried to create a fire circle. Children gathered felled wood and cut small saplings for kindling. Carts were positioned together and a make-shift tent was put up to cover the kitchen area in case of bad weather. The animals were secured and tended to.

They sat around the fire on barrels and boxes enjoying their first meal with cups of strong, hot, sweetened tea. For a while they indulged in laughter and celebration recounting the highlights of their long and perilous journey. Hoots and huzzahs sounded from the men as they clasped each other on the back. The women laughed and the children felt free to play in earnest chasing one another about the carts and giggling. Even the baby broke its silence with a wail for its Mother's breast.

All knew there was little time to celebrate. Although the day was warm and the skies clear, it wouldn't be like that for long.

The sun was high in the midday sky and already many of the group began planning for the work needing to be done. Master Ducane was a stone mason by trade. He, along with several others with carpentry skills and strong backs, set out to find a suitable site and lay out the marks for their biggest and most important structure - a communal building with room for larder storage. Wrapped around two sides of the building would be a shelter for the animals.

Another Father and son began cutting saplings for a sheltered work area and to store their tools.

The elders took the smallest children to pick berries by the stream. It was mid-July and the blackberries were fat, black and so juicy it was hard to pick them without squishing them. The children giggled as the juice ran down their arms.

Nina and Anne began to dig a hole for the privy but were quickly relocated by Master Ducane.

"No luck there," he said as he came up behind them. "It is all solid ledge."

He led them about twenty yards away. Using the four foot metal rod and a hammer, he began pounding it into the ground in various places. Sometimes it went in a few inches, other times over three feet.

"Once you get past the roots, you should be all right. Call one of the men when you need rocks moved," he said.

Nina and Anne dug. The roots were tough and there was plenty of rock. After a couple of hours they were only down a few inches.

"We have to figure out something before spring. The season here will be short for growing and this ground refuses to yield," Nina said frowning.

"It is a start, at least," Anne replied. "We should get back and get our things together. Tomorrow we can start again."

"Yes. I am looking forward to getting a decent bath," Nina replied.

The two women returned to the camp and began gathering their things - clean clothes, brushes, soaps and the like for themselves and the children leaving the men to fetch their own water from the stream.

All of the women - young and old - began walking down to the pond carrying their belongings. They chatted, laughed and sang. There was much to be glad about and their first circle on the new land would be tonight.

### Chapter Twenty-Two

On a small hill, under the cover of trees, Wilton watched the women at the pond through his spyglass. Young and old, they were in various stages of undress. Some had their tops off with their breasts exposed. Others were completely naked.

Their hair was unbound, hanging loose about their shoulders as they frolicked about, jumping in the water while others lay naked on the ground, their sex clearly visible. Laughter and voices that were just out of his hearing only served to compound their sins in his mind.

It was broad daylight! These heathens were openly sinning in the face of God with their children participating in the same blasphemous behavior!

As the anger rose within him, so did a deep, sinful, carnal desire. Pressure mounted in his groin - proof again that they were Witches. Their black tendrils of bewitchment reached out to him even at this great distance.

It was not the first time he was snared by dark influences. Ultimately he would succumb as he bested their flesh with his sacred tools of confession and many of Satan's whores he had ridden. Many were willing; others protested only making his desire for them more savage. But he would prevail and survive each of their devious machinations and enchantments. Strength would return to him after his lust was slated and only through God's grace would he gain control and forgiveness for his transgressions and temporary weakness of soul.

These, the most sinful of all the Witches he had ever encountered, would pay with their lives at the end of a hangman's noose. They would never tempt anyone again - once he was done with them, his soul again cleansed.

"We should give them a few days to establish a routine. Then we follow the plan," Wilton said while looking through the spyglass. "You will go in and befriend them. Arrange to have the Danann Witch alone. I shall do the rest seeing you have no stomach for it."

Luke nodded and then turned to go back to their small camp.

Wilton grunted but continued watching the women at the pond. The tall blonde would be first. Having the exclusive pleasure to bring her to confession would be one of his greatest achievements. Then perhaps the one with the red hair . . .

His thoughts drifted to his own devices again. Sacred, secret rites that he worked with God's hand. Luke would soon be off hunting or spying. That would be a perfect time to perform some of these works without any prying eyes.

### Chapter Twenty-Three

The night was warm and the air still as the full moon lit the clearing that the Murias gathered in. A fire blazed in the center, its light casting deep long shadows around the circle accentuating the rich green robes that all in the group wore. Usually they would meet in normal wear or, in true Celtic fashion on warm summer nights they might wear nothing at all. However, tonight was special. So each brought out the green robe that designated their line in the Geassa linked to the ways of nature.

Some in the group had come from other traditions, bringing elements from secret groups in Europe with strong Hermetic teachings. It was these influences that had brought in the idea of robes. They had discussed the use of other colored robes. Black for secrecy, red for power, even the white robes of the Ancient Druids from which so much of the Murias tradition had come. In the end the rich, life affirming color of green resonated with the families. It accentuated the cycle of life and fertility that was so much a part of the Ancient Ways.

This would be their first full moon rite in the Wobawazauke, though most in the group had begun calling it _White Wood_ after the English translation. It was no wonder. Standing in the clearing among the rich forest of tall birch trees, the woods glowed a silver white under the moon's brilliant gaze.

This ritual would set the flow of energy, the pattern of power for the community in this place for generations to come. Few other rituals would hold the importance that this one would. Ancient forces would be summoned in this new land, awakened to aid the Murias in their bid to form a permanent home and safe haven not only for them to live but also for the older traditions to thrive unimpeded.

From the Danann wagon Codi and Elliot opened the hidden compartment and removed the _treasure_ ; a large cauldron with markings around the rim. No one knew its age, only that it had been passed down from Banriona to Banriona for as long as the Murias had existed. The traditions surrounding it were rich and mysterious.

Each Banriona was taught that this was _the_ actual Cauldron of Plenty, the legendary cauldron brought by Dagda himself from the land of Murias. Except for a few symbols of power known to the Banriona, the script around the rim was indecipherable. Its obvious age gave credence to the claim but the persistent fluid that collected within the cauldron dispelled any doubt of its authenticity.

The members of the circle stepped aside as the cauldron was lifted onto the hooked chain hanging from the tripod over the fire. Several women came forward pouring water from the stream into the ancient kettle. Just outside the circle a few of the members set up with their musical instruments. There were several flutes, small harps, bodhrans and other small drums. Freyja's Kantele was perched on a small crate for use later. The instrument had been passed down to her from generations long past.

Freyja strode to the center of the circle. On the ground nearby a number of herbs and plants had been laid along with a small bowl of honey and another of wine. As the Llawforwyn, second only to the Banriona herself _and_ initiate into the cult of the Cauldron of Cerridwen, she was the natural choice to prepare the potion. Slowly, deliberately Freyja picked up each herb in turn casting these into the cauldron as she chanted:

Precious Silver,

Druid Vervain,

Ruby Gems from the Hedge,

The spell is cast, bound with Sedge!

Freyja's voice rose as she addressed the God and Goddess and began creating the bond between the Murias, Caer Wyder, the Celtic mystical realm of the Castle of Glass and this land.

So sing the song and dance the square,

This sacred place we now share!

At the northeastern edge of the circle the members stepped aside allowing two figures, a man and a woman, to enter the clearing. They were dressed in black cloaks; their hoods draped low hiding their faces in shadow. The man carried the double pronged pitchfork, the Stang, in his right hand. Its two white horns gleamed in the fire light as they pointed skyward toward the stars. The woman's right hand was wrapped firmly around the shaft of a birch broom, its bristles upward as if it were a flower. The two walked to the center of the circle where Freyja and Codi removed the cloaks from the couple.

Dressed in rich green robes, William and Nina stood facing each other. Nina reached out to grasp the shaft of the Stang just under William's right hand. William, in turn, took hold of the broom handle just below Nina's hand. There in the center of the circle they formed an inner couplet not only as man and woman but as the dynamic polar yet complementary opposites which form all that is. Slowly in a voice soft and feminine, yet filled with awe and majesty Nina began the ancient invocation:

By oak, by stone, by circles old,

The tree's sway, Cer's laughter bold!

The Great Wheel turns upon the years,

Faunus of the Glen and Khnum appears!

Arise Great Stag! Come be here!

Your servant awaits, his vision clear.

Come Master Cer! We welcome you here!

A rush of wind ran through the trees as energy pulsed around the circle. For those who could see, the Stang began to glow. As Nina fell silent William took up the chant:

On mountains fair and caverns deep,

Cerri is found by those who seek.

The stars of Caer Wyder guide our gaze,

Come Great Lady, hear our praise!

Come great Lady, Cerri, come,

We welcome you here!

Virtually every time that the ancient invocation was recited Nina would feel a surge of power reaching up from the earth through her body bringing a sense of connection to all life and nature. At the same time, the moon itself would seem to grow larger, brighter, even closer - as the sky and earth, their energies merging, with Nina as the vehicle for all that was feminine and divine in nature.

The musicians began to play a traditional tune that was at once lively and yet held a steady, complex beat. Everyone began dancing as they made their way around the circle. It was a spiral pattern, weaving inward toward the center where eventually each member would meet Nina and William. The fire blazed and the potion within the cauldron began to steam and bubble.

The dancers circled faster to the center, spiraling in and out, forming a maze of frenzied energy and light. The golden glow of the fire reflected off the green robes as they rushed by forming an emerald ribbon that moved in and out, round and round, all keeping time to the ancient song.

Everyone knew that the moment was approaching. The peak of power would be reached soon. Yet it was the skill, the innate awareness and training of the Banriona that kept the energy under control, waiting for the right moment and the right person to release the tension that the group was building. William and Nina stepped aside. Nina took the handle of the broom and pointed this toward the ground as she traced two lines; one horizontal the other vertical. These intersected forming a large equal armed cross approximately three feet square.

Freyja knew that the moment was near. All of her upbringing, all of her training, both in the Murias and as a Daughter of Cerridwen told her that the power was growing, rising, seething.

She couldn't remember a time when she had felt more alive, more in tune with the forces around her. She was the most skilled dancer in the Murias. Everyone knew this. As Llawforwyn she knew that it would be she who would be called upon to perform the final phase of the dance that would release the power, linking the Murias to this land, this place for all time to come.

They spiraled inward again, as the music played ever faster, the beat stronger. Freyja would soon be in the center. She knew that Nina would take her hand and pull her from the line to do the dance of the four squares. Inward the spiral moved. Nina's hand rising, reach out, preparing to pull a member forward. She could take anyone, any member from the line. The choice was always the Banriona's, for she knew the pulse of the energy. She knew the pulse of the land. She knew who in the group could seal the fate of the Murias.

As Freyja neared the center Nina reached out and pulled Anne from the line; Anne, who was just one person away from Freyja. The dance continued, the members moving ever faster in the spiral pattern.

Freyja passed by Nina, giving a disbelieving look. _How could this be?_ She was shocked, even hurt. Nina had chosen Anne, a student, who was not even an initiate to perform the vital, final ritual act of the dance. _Anne barely knew the dance. She had never done it in an actual ritual before. The secret steps had to be performed with care. What could Nina be thinking?_ Freyja thought to herself.

Still Freyja kept her place in the line. The dance must go on; the power had to be raised. While angry and hurt, her training told her that she needed to continue though she would express her displeasure to William at the first opportunity.

As the music continued to play the dancers weaved in and out faster and faster. In the heart of the circle the great ancient cauldron glowed in the firelight. The potion was brewing. Its steam was rising upward filling the circle with the rich, heady scent of herbs. The effect was intoxicating as the vapors from the philter filled each with its seductive aroma.1

Nina took Anne by the hand and pointed to the four sections of the cross on the ground. "You have been chosen Anne," Nina said. "You will dance the square that links us forever to this land."

"I do not know how . . . I do not know what to do," Anne said.

"It is simple" Nina said. "Just follow the steps that we practiced."

Anne gingerly stepped forward placing her right foot into the far left corner of the equal cross. Then she placed her left foot in the upper right corner, spinning around facing the opposite way. Another step and then another, faster and faster as an inner, spiraling pattern emerged. At first her footing was awkward. She fumbled with her steps, feeling self conscious. Yet, Nina encouraged her to go on.

The music played faster now, while the Murias continued to spiral around and around, in and out. Anne continued to follow the pattern slowly at first, but then with more confidence. She found herself dancing the square with ease, spinning around the four points, her green robe twirling, her sense of self leaving. It was as if she had become one with the dance, the energy of the Murias surging through her. Here in the center of the circle, spiraling as the pivot between worlds, Anne felt as if she was part of the land, part of the sky, aware of all that was alive.

Faster and faster she spun, the music rushing through her. On the edges of her mind she could hear words, a chant or song. They were strange words that rang as if from another time or another place. _Was it Nina and William chanting?_ Or was it voices from another realm, the Gods of Old rushing through her veins? She didn't know. She didn't care. She spun faster and faster, as all awareness of the group left her and she found herself surrounded by mist and an iridescent glow.

The moon shone bright as she found her self dancing in a ring of stones atop a granite hill. All around her stars glistened brighter than she had ever known. But the moon, bright and full, hung overhead larger and clearer than ever before. In that moment she felt as if she were that moon, she was the starry heavens and the vibrant power of the land itself. She was aware of a presence. The presence of the Lady and yet for this one moment she was the Lady.

A sudden rush of ecstasy surged through her. Her heart raced and her body convulsed as wave after wave of intense exaltation washed over her. She fell to the ground as the tension, the shear force of the Murias, shot through her rising high into the sky, surging through realms and worlds beyond those perceived by most mortal men.

The music died away. The dancing stopped. William and Nina helped Anne to her feet. She was back now. She was back in the circle of the Murias among the white trees of this new and sacred land.

"Did I do the dance right?" Anne asked sheepishly.

"You were wonderful!" Nina replied.

### Chapter Twenty-Four

Huddled over a small fire deep in the forest Wilton glanced up at the full moon shining through the trees. _Curse that sorcerer's orb of evil!_ he thought to himself. He knew that in the clearing just the other side of the small ridge of hills, not more then two miles away, the Witches were encamped. The night was fair and bright from the moon. They would be gathered in some satanic act of diabolical desecration, this he was certain of.

Luke had gone off hunting and scouting for the next few days leaving Wilton to fend for himself. He had warned Wilton to stay out of sight. Their small site was east of the Danann encampment. Here in the mountains the winds almost always blew from west to east. Staying here would help ensure that any smoke from a small fire would not drift toward the Witches' site.

Wilton was frustrated, stuck in the middle of nowhere, with only a small lean-to as protection from the elements waiting for a savage boy to return with food. All the while he knew that his ultimate success, the greatest achievement of his life, was within reach. With the completion of this one final act of justice, the bringing to trial of the Danann Witch, would result in his gaining thousands of acres of rich forest land and with it money, prestige and power.

For a moment he envisioned entire communities cropping up in this land. All would be dedicated to him. This would be his kingdom . . . a rich empire; logging the vast timbers, mining the minerals of the mountains, farming in the valley near the rivers. It would all be his, under his control. It was so close to him now.

What better way to get this land. The servants of the devil had to be stopped. All that day thoughts of the Danann Witch filled Wilton's mind. Seeing her lean, naked body swimming through the waters of the pond, watching her nude form sun bathing on the rocks, enticing him, arousing him, there was no doubt this woman was a seductive sorceress with a power over men that he had never known before.

Sitting there staring into the fire he could see her in his mind. The curve of her breasts, the smooth skin of her buttocks glistening in the water. His manhood rose in protest under the restraint of his trousers. _Damn that daughter of Satan_ , Wilton mumbled to himself.

From a small canvas map sack Wilton pulled a few items out and laid these on the ground before the fire. The first was a small, rare book: _The Book of Secrets of Albertus Magnus of the Virtues of Herbs, Stones and certain Beasts._ Flipping through this he found what he was looking for. From a small leather bag he picked out a white mineral, about the size of a bean. It glowed softly in the moon light as he set this aside. He then pulled an envelope from the map bag. Wilton's mind thought back to the night he and Reverend Somes negotiated his commission.

During their discussion Wilton asked the Reverend if he had anything belonging to the Danann Witch. Somes was quiet for a moment. He appeared nervous as he reluctantly produced a small envelope. Inside were a few long golden strands of hair. "What is this?" Wilton asked.

Slowly the Reverend replied, "During one of my visits to the Danann home I was overcome . . . filled with desire that I can not explain. It was not my fault! Truly I had no control! The succubus Witch caused me to desire her. When she was not looking I plucked these hairs from her cloak that hung on the wall. She never saw me do it, though I swear it was the devil's madness that filled me. I held on to these. Perhaps they may be of aid to you?"

Wilton took the envelope knowing that with certain techniques, hidden teachings he had gathered in his years of interrogating Witches that these hairs would be of real aid to him when the time was right. That time had come. In fact, he had made a study of the arcane arts. How better to defeat the devil than by knowing and using the very means which Satan's disciples used themselves. _Fight fire with fire,_ Wilton thought to himself. Through old and rare books, as well as certain bits of knowledge he had been able to glean through his years of torturing Witches in the Isles, he had been able to master some simple but effective procedures that served him well.

At first he had questioned himself, wondering if he wasn't committing a mortal sin by casting the very spells and using the same ingredients that the Witches themselves used. But no, he was certain that he was in the right. In each conjuration he called upon the Lord to defeat the powers of darkness. If the Lord didn't want him using these practices He would not have made them available to him. So over the years Wilton had gathered a number of exotic items; gems said to contain certain powers - herbs, bits of bone, feathers, fur, teeth and claws from various animals. Oils and resins were also in his possession. All could be used in the making of certain glamours. These were his armament against people like the Danann Witches.

A small lump of clay lay on a fresh oak leaf next to the fire. Wilton had gathered this earlier that day down near a small stream. Picking this up, he began rolling the clay, kneading it between his hands, forming it slowly and deliberately. His mind drifted back to the Danann Witch lying under the warm sun on the large granite boulder near the pond. He could see her beautiful nude body as the warmth of the summer air dried her skin. Through the spy glass he watched her intently, viewing every angle and curve of her body, her sex visible for all to see.

He felt his heart race and the pressure in groin mount as he continued to work the clay into the shape of a small doll . . . the figure of a nude woman. He opened the envelope removing the hair. Slowly working the strands into the clay he began to pray:

O Lord of Israel,

Almighty who smites the sinner,

By your power I name this poppet Nina Danann,

She-Witch and daughter of the Devil himself!

Adoni, Agla, Cados, Cados!

Zabahot, Elion, by the most holy names of God,

Nina Danann must come to me!

He then picked up the small white stone and carefully worked this into the doll where the legs met, just at the groin. Pushing this deep into the clay and covered it over. Then with his finger nail he meticulously shaped the area while reminiscing on the appearance of Nina lying in the sun earlier that day.

Alectoria, stone of the cock,

Draw her near, draw her near.

The Witch Queen comes,

Your power brings her here!

Amen!

In his hands the small clay image was a crude facsimile of a nude woman. He lay this down on a small flat rock and placed this atop some of the coals from the fire. He would leave it to dry over night. The next day he would carefully wrap the image in cloth and carry this against his skin until she arrived.

### Chapter Twenty-Five

Dawn was breaking and only after a few hours of sleep from the night before the group slowly began rising to begin their day. William seemed to have the most energy immediately summoning Elliot to saddle their horses and ready more for pack. He successfully ducked several swipes of Hester Ducane's spoon as he grabbed supplies and food from the kitchen area.

"You best bring back something!" she cried as he wrapped his arm around her waist and kissed her cheek. Hester tried to put on a dour face, her thin lips pressed together but the twinkle in her eyes betrayed her.

"Wish us luck!" William said smiling and waved on his way back to their cart.

William was busy digging through the cart for more items when Nina asked what he was doing.

"Hurry now, we are leaving soon," William said and kissed her cheek.

"Leaving?" Nina asked.

"Yes. We are going hunting, remember?" William smiled as he held her broom and his stang before him. "Make sure Anne knows about the boys."

"Oh yes! Hunting . . . " Nina smiled broadly. Last night they lay entwined together, still so tired from the travel and work. Their bodies too sore and stiff to find pleasure in each other even though they had missed that comfort for so long. Someone needed to go hunting. At the same time they could scout for more meadows for winter animal feed before it was too late in the season and the grasses to be worth no more than bedding. It would be at least an overnight trip. Two if they didn't find any game.

"Although I do prefer you in petticoats, breeches may be more suitable for this trip," William added.

Nina smiled at William and nodded.

William secured the food, bedding and equipment to the pack animals. Then he went to the common area and spread out a paper before the men gathered around.

"We will start out here," William began pointing to the map, "and go straight for about a mile. If we all take turns as we go hunting we can also use the opportunity to obtain a better understanding of our surroundings.

None of us are cartographers, but we can mark approximations of water bodies, hills, meadows, unusual landmarks and the like."

The men pointed and nodded, each asking small questions, making suggestions and wishing William luck before going back to their chores.

"Father and I will be going next," Elliot said to William.

"Probably would be better to take Anne than your Father," William said with a smile.

"Anne hunts?" Elliot asked.

"No. But truth be told, neither can Nina," William said with a wink.

Elliot looked puzzled as he walked away. He took not more than a few steps before he spun around on his heels and called back to William, "Wonderful idea!"

Nina finished securing her belongings to her saddle and the pack horses. William and Nina then began their trek down the trail, running parallel to the stream. They stopped periodically for William to make notes on his map. There was a small meadow to his right and what looked like a larger meadow northeast of their position.

"Let us take a quick look up there. Perhaps it will be a good stop for the midday meal," William said pointing to the top of the hill.

They reached the top and realized that the meadow was larger than they expected, stretching out north of their position and covered in thick, knee-high grasses well suited for animal feed. A small brook ran from the forest edge, curving east and then flowing down the hill to a small seasonal pond below.

William decided that this site would be a favorable spot to hunt as the animals will be watering in the evening and at dawn. Nina pointed out that it was a good spot for their summoning as she spread a quilted blanket over the ground for their midday meal.

He sat down beside her and accepted some bread and cheese. There was also dried venison and some blackberry spread that Hester had made from the local berries. They shared a skin of water and rested against one another enjoying the warmth of the sun and each other's company. The rest of the day's plans were to continue surveying until dusk before returning to the meadow for the night and their works.

So they finished their meal and went back to their task of mapping the area. Nina found some interesting herbs and flowers she had never seen before and took some samples, pressing them carefully to preserve them in her small journal as William noted their approximate position on the map. She was disappointed in not finding more wild harvest thinking that the animals may have gotten all the fruits and nuts already. There was so much new nature to learn in the New World. Things were so different from what she learned from home across the great ocean.

She knew the beech nuts would be ready in about a month. The children would gather those and the acorns for use as breads this winter. It was going to be a trial this winter season - lives would be lost even with the best planning. The spirits at the lodge had promised the Penacook would help out when they could but winter would be hard on them also. _How much would they spare in trade?_ Nina wondered. _How much do we have to spare to trade?_

As the sun began sinking in the horizon it created great red and pink streaks that sliced across the sky. "It will be a good day tomorrow," Nina said absently.

"Every day is a good day with you," William said as he turned his horse back toward the meadow, leaning over to kiss Nina on the cheek.

Nina turned and followed him back toward the meadow on the hill. As William settled the horses and set up a covered shelter in case of rain Nina went about setting up the ritual space on the sand and rounded gravel by the water's edge. A few feet outside the area she spread another small blanket and placed the bags containing their evening meal.

William brought down the ritual tools and placed them on the blanket in the ritual space. Nina was already undressed and in the pond washing away the day's dirt and sweat. William quickly disrobed and joined her.

He gathered her in his arms, holding her close to him, kissing her lips. She pushed him away laughing, "William! You will spoil tonight's work if you keep on like this!"

"I am well ready for this task," he said with a smile and a gleam in his eyes.

She pulled away from him and sat in the tall grass near the water's edge watching William in the pond. Nina picked some wild flowers and grass heads weaving them into a circlet. When William finally sat beside her, she placed the circlet on his head. He kissed her softly on the lips.

"Ready?" he asked.

Nina nodded and he took her hand. They went about casting the circle, consecrating the ritual space and lighting the large bonfire within. William picked up his stang and Nina picked up her broom.

Together they began the chant. At first the words were low and soft, the rhythm and power passing between them. The chant developed a sing-song quality between the two as the energy began to coalesce around them. William then pushed the stang into the ground at an angle, horns up. Nina then laid her broom between the horns.

Each on opposite sides, they knelt beneath the arch, their arms reaching out to one another. The chant soft on their lips, William laid on his back and they began to couple. The chant faded away to various tones, sounds of power that would invite those of the same calling to this place.

Their summoning, their power, their energy swirled faster and faster about them. As their muscles tightened, their bodies sweating, the energy tightened around them. Nina's head fell back and she uttered a cry as they reached climax. They both focused their energy toward the goal of attracting others of the Arts. The energy shot up into the night like a beacon and then spread across the sky in a brilliant silvery luminescence.

William held her steady as her body became limp. She leaned forward against him. The light was gone. Nina rested her head on his chest and listened to William's pounding heart.

"That was wonderful," Nina gasped. "One of our best works I should think."

William murmured in agreement as he held Nina tight to him. They lay there together for a while until the breeze chilled their damp skin.

"Brrr," Nina said. "I need some hot tea and something to eat."

The two got up and moved to where Nina had placed the food. She pulled a shawl about her and began starting a fire while William rummaged through one of the packs. He pulled out a small skin and waved it before Nina.

"The rest of the wine from the last harvest," William said smiling. "It will warm you better than tea."

Nina pulled out a small bowl and held it while William poured. They sat next to one another, sipping the wine and nibbling on bread and cheese.

"What a wonderful place. Everything feels so alive here," Nina said.

"We could build our house here next spring if you like," William said. "We should start at least thinking about that."

Nina was quiet for a moment. "I have been thinking of other things. I know we agreed about this before, but it would be nice to have another child . . ."

William drew in a deep breath. He had been thinking of it too but had not changed his mind. "I almost lost you with John. I almost lost you _and_ John! Do you not remember?"

"Yes. I remember," Nina said softly. "But it would be nice to have a girl. It would be nice to have a child born in this new land."

"Oh Nina! Two Danann women in the same house? Have you no sympathy for the boys and I?" William tried to make light of it.

"Each birth is different. Sometimes things go wrong. Remember Thomas' birth? It was over before it started and everything was fine." Nina turned to him and wrapped her arms around him. "Just think about it. We can make a final decision in spring." She pressed her lips against his. He eagerly returned her affections pushing her down on the quilt.

"I love you so much, Nina. I could not bear to be without you," William said.

"Nor I without you," Nina said knowing that they had spent many lives together and together would spend many more to come.

"You know I have no will to deny you," William admitted.

Nina laughed softly in acknowledgement. "Nor I you."

"You wench! How easily you lie to your husband!" William said with a smile.

Nina laughed and then ran her hand over his chest, around his neck, her fingers lacing through his hair. "I have missed you so much," she said pulling his face to hers and wrapping her legs around his hips.

William needed no coaxing as he had missed her touch as well. It had been a long time since they lay in one another's arms in wild abandon under the stars. This night and this time would be used well by them.

### Chapter Twenty-Six

It was early morning. The light streaked across the sky announcing the arrival of the dawn as Anne made her way through the trees to the stream for water.

"Two days! Two days!" Anne muttered loudly as she pushed her way through the overgrowth and then decided she should _tell_ Elliot to cut the path to the stream _today_ to make things a bit more bearable. She sighed in her frustration. They had been here just under a week. There was so much work to do and the undertaking of cutting a path for water seemed of little importance compared to the other tasks that the men were about. _Perhaps it was something the children and elders could do,_ Anne considered.

As she came closer to the stream she noticed someone drinking from the water. _A soldier!_ she thought as a small gasp escaped from her lips. Then she realized he had native features. Although he was wearing the apparel of a soldier, it wasn't quite right when he looked up at her.

"Good morrow," Anne uttered nervously and tried to draw herself up as tall and stern as she could attempting to invoke Hester Ducane's ominous presence when she was not to be crossed.

"Good morrow Miss," the man said as he lifted his head from the stream. "I did not know that this land was taken."

Anne was flustered. "I . . .we . . . I mean . . . " she couldn't think of what to say and was curious as why she wasn't as afraid as she thought she should be. The man stood up and took the reins of his horse. A small deer was tied to the back of the saddle across the mount.

"I was hunting," he said. "I would be happy to share my kill with your family, Mistress of this land."

"I am not Mistress of anything," Anne blurted out. _Foolish! Foolish!_ "I mean . . . I am Anne," she finally said.

Luke crossed the stream and his horse followed. He took the buckets from Anne saying, "Let me help you, Mistress Anne," and filled them from the stream. "I am Luke."

Anne could barely utter thanks as he picked the buckets up, his horse following behind. "Lead the way," Luke said and Anne turned, cheeks flushed and cut her path back to the camp.

The group was huddled in a circle discussing the plans for the day when Anne emerged with the stranger behind her. An uncomfortable hush fell over the group. Some reached casually for weapons as they eyed the man.

William looked up from the group at Anne and the stranger leading his horse who was carrying the two buckets of water. "Welcome," he said breaking away from the men and quickly closed the distance between the stranger and himself.

"Good Morrow," Luke said holding the buckets in front of him. "I was at the stream and surprised Mistress Anne."

Elliot had come up beside Anne and tried to guide her away. She twisted from his grip and gave him a sharp look, picked up the buckets and then hauled them to the kitchen area. Elliot was at her heels whispering, "Are you all right? Is he alone?"

"Yes! Yes!" Anne hissed. "And that path needs to be cleared today!" She rubbed the scratches on her arm from the overgrown trail to the stream ignoring Elliot's interrogation as she watched William and Luke.

William extended his hand to the stranger. They shook hands and introduced themselves.

"I am Luke. I am sorry for trespassing," he said. "I was hunting and did not know that anyone had settled here." He pulled the deer from his horse and handed it to William.

They talked for a bit, getting to know each other as best as one can under such circumstances. As the others crowded around listening and asking questions eventually someone felt comfortable enough to offer Luke to stay as long as he wished. Luke agreed to stay for a few days before continuing on his journey _west_ and offered to lend a hand to their projects.

Codi swiftly recruited him as his team mate in moving the stones cut by Master Ducane. It was back-breaking work even with the oxen doing most of the dragging. Goody Mackay brought them water and food, insisting they take more frequent breaks in the sweltering heat.

Luke watched them carefully. Their interactions were different from others he had known. It was clear that Codi had strong feelings for his wife and she for him. They did not hesitate to display their affection for one another with a gentle touch, an extra kind word or a brief glance of acknowledgement to the other. And it was so with the others. Each family group had deep ties to one another and the community. They all worked well together despite their varying views. Even the few disagreements seemed to be welcome and worked out amicably between parties.

Soon he forgot that he was a newcomer. It felt nice to be part of this place and these people. For much of his life he was constantly reminded that he was an unwelcome outsider - but not here. Luke easily slipped into this life becoming an equal among his new friends.

Suddenly Luke remembered the reason that brought him here. That reason would make it impossible for him to ever be part of this group.

### Chapter Twenty-Seven

Rain began to fall as Wilton sat huddled under the lean-to in the small encampment nestled in the thick woods. Mosquitoes buzzed him. The itch from their bites stung his skin. Chilled now from the damp he began muttering to himself as he sat there. _How did I get to this god forsaken place!_ But of course he knew exactly how it came to pass that he should be sitting in a wild forest an ocean away from his home.

Raised under a strict hand, his Father was a minister who saw the evil and sin in the world around him. When it was discovered that some within his own congregation had ties to old families who still worshipped deep in glen and meadows late at night Wilton's Father was horrified. How wondered how he could have been so blind not to see the obvious hand of the devil at work in his own small village. Their sin had to be cleansed. Their depravity had to be punished. With the help of a few local churchmen, whom he could trust, the Reverend was able to bring the families to trial one at a time.

The first had been a family living on the edge of the village with a large farm and an ancient stone house. In the beginning the members of the family denied all wrong doing. But then, under the continued _questioning_ of the Reverend, they began to confess.

Wilton had barely entered manhood at the time. His Mother had died many years before during one particularly cold winter. His Father never remarried and raised him alone.

The good Reverend was determined not to let his son fall into sin. If anything he wanted young Wilton to be an instrument of the Lord, like himself. The horror that struck the older Reverend was compounded by the fact that his good son had taken a liking to the fair daughter of the very family that now proved to be Witches.

Along with Wilton and his Father, several churchmen dragged the girl to a small room inside an outbuilding that was frequently used as a jail. She was stripped naked and _questioned_ in accordance with the _Malleus Maleficarum_ \- a book his Father had long had in his possession.

At first young Wilton was shocked at the brutal torture. However, seeing her naked and vulnerable also aroused him in ways he had only entertained in dark thoughts when alone. She confessed to everything . . . everything and anything that the small group of holy men described. The entire family was hanged and their farm fell into the coffers of the small church.

There was a flash of lightning and a crack of thunder snapping Wilton from his reverie. The rain began to fall harder now and water began to drip through the gaps in the roof of the lean-to. He recalled the distant memory. That was how it all began for him, there in that tiny village. He saw the sin of the Old Religion and the power of the Lord root out the devil's whores in all their guises.

After his Father's death, Wilton inherited the tools and books of the Witchfinder. While becoming a Reverend himself, he had no interest in remaining in the small village. He had seen the power and money that came from tracking down Witches. Farmhouses, lands, personal property and titles - all gained through Satan's aid - could be his.

But there was so much more. There was the pleasure gained in questioning the guilty. Stripping them naked and satiating a carnal lust that in that moment was turned into an instrument of righteousness.

So he went from town to town, his reputation growing as an expert in uncovering the secret followers of the Old Ways. In each village the devil's servants were discovered one by one and questioned behind closed doors, put on trial and hung. Never had he actually caught any in the act of consorting with the devil. Never, that is, until that one night almost a decade ago when he had been summoned to a small country village. Master Hastings had written to Wilton in secret describing a number of occurrences in his community suggesting that the countryside was rife with witchcraft. In particular he suspected that his own son had been seduced by one of Satan's daughters, a young woman with ties to a very old and prominent family in the community.

So it was that Wilton found himself lying in wait at the Hastings farm with a group of well-armed local men. They sat at the edge of the field in the dark watching when the young woman emerged from the barn after her tryst with Hastings' son. Quietly they followed her deep into the forest.

It was that night that Wilton saw his first actual gathering of Witches. Huddled around a small fire the group of cloaked figures chanted and danced to please Satan himself. Then the harlot joined them.

Wilton's fury grew. It was one thing to have a harlot confess under torture - it was another to actually see the devil's own practicing their art out in the open.

Rather than bringing them to trial, Wilton and the men descended on the group and strung them up on the spot. Each had been members of local families within the community - all except for one young girl. She had cried out terribly when the group was exposed. None of the churchmen knew who she was. She wasn't from their community.

As was custom the lands, money and livestock of those executed were tuned over to the church and divided among certain members of the group. Wilton himself was rewarded handsomely for his role in finding the coven, but the mystery of the young girl remained. Searching through the few belongings carried in the petticoat of the dead girl revealed an odd broach with a seal - a family crest.

It took Wilton many years of research showing the broach to certain officials in town after town. It wasn't until he approached a vicar in Norfolk that its identity was revealed. "Why it is the family crest of the Hobart clan," the grey-haired Vicar said matter-of-factly.

"Hobart?" Wilton said.

"Yes. The family is very powerful here. Sir Henry Hobart is the fourth Baronet of Intwood," the Vicar said. "Where did you find the broach?"

Wilton considered his next words carefully. That night they were all caught up in the fervor of the moment when they found the Witches actually practicing their dark arts in the open. It was Wilton's order to hang them on the spot without benefit of trial. It was by Wilton's word that they had taken the law into their own hands - but now one of those hung had ties to a prominent family. Wilton was on a very slippery slope. "It was given to me in Essex as payment for some services there. It was said to have belonged to a young lady who had taken ill."

The Vicar gave Wilton a long look. "Sir Hobart's distant cousin had gone missing some years ago. She was visiting friends of the family. Word had come back that a plague had taken them."

Wilton didn't elaborate. Rather he thanked the Vicar and left realizing the new complexities of the situation. Sir Hobart was a powerful man with ties to royalty. The broach alone would not be sufficient proof of the Hobart family's involvement in witchcraft, but the immense wealth the Hobart's possessed was too much for Wilton to resist.

He had to get closer. He had to find out more. Perhaps he could find proof of Hobart's dealings in witchcraft. If he could and if Hobart were brought to trial Wilton would stand to gain a huge portion of the Hobart estate. This was no small village farmer or a young nameless harlot that he could just accuse and convict. No - he needed to have proof and ensure that the secret of how he came about this tie would leave him unscathed.

So it was that Wilton settled into the local area. He rented a room at the inn. Night after night he sat in the tavern listening to gossip and befriending the locals posing as a prospective merchant in the wool trade. The local guild was more than eager to help Wilton find suitable merchandise and sent him many prospects that he artfully dodged. After several weeks of watching and listening he began to see certain patterns in the dealings of the Hobart's. In particular one servant had a little too much to drink.

Over a pint he confided to Wilton that he had carried messages from Sir Hobart to an Irish family - an old clan that had relatives in the colonies of America. What was odd was that Hobart was English and this clan was Irish. There was no love between the two races. Still the links between the families was strong. At one point the servant told him that he had sneaked a look at one of the documents. There was talk of land grants and old practices. While the servant wasn't sure what this meant Wilton understood all too well. This was the proof he needed . . . or was it?

If he could bring the New World Witches to trial and prove their links to Sir Hobart the evidence would be irrefutable. What a scandal it would produce - a member of Parliament supporting witchcraft in both England and the New World. It would rock the foundation of the kingdom itself. In the center of it all stood Wilton. National fame, incredible wealth, land on both sides of the Atlantic all stood to be his. Then there would be the title.

It was conceivable that as a reward for exposing this heresy he would be granted Sir Hobart's title. "Sir Thomas Wilton - _Fifth_ Baronet of Intwood/Buckinghamshire." It had a nice ring to it Wilton said to himself.

So it was that Wilton learned of the courier who would be heading to the New World to deliver the documents and patents. Wilton decided to follow the courier, booking passage on the ship bound for Boston in the colonies. During the voyage he befriended the messenger. Telling him he was a merchant headed to the colonies on business. Little did the courier know that Wilton planned to dispatch him among the throng of travelers once in port and deliver the patent himself to the Dananns.

Sitting here in the rainy forest his reward was almost within his grasp. Grab the Danann Witch and return her to Salem. This would be his proof toppling the Hobart Empire and bring him the wealth he so desired.

### Chapter Twenty-Eight

When they crossed into the _Wobawazauke_ Claudia and her youngest boy, Rene, were the first to notice something changed in the atmosphere around them. It was barely discernable. As if one put their hand unknowingly into a bowl of tepid water - one would feel the resistance but easily pass through it. Louis, however, perceived none of this.

Using her pendulum as a guide they were sure they had found the land Sipsis directed them to. Now the trick was to locate a specific person's location for which Claudia had no previous knowledge, experience or physical connection.

They made camp beneath an outcrop of rock and tried to come up with a way to locate the needle in the haystack.

"Maybe they are still travelling?" Claudia suggested.

"We could stay here for a while," Louis said in response. "Pierre's leg needs rest to heal. In any event, what is to say we _must_ find them or that they would want us to? Could we settle here safely?"

For the next several days Claudia kept trying to locate Golden Hair with her pendulum. Louis and Rene went hunting and to see if they could find sign of anyone else in the area. With their hunting they were successful. With their search for any others in the area they were not.

During these outings Louis found a suitable area for building. Close enough to a water source without it being a danger if flooded. He then went to inventory his tools. The summer would quickly be behind them and they needed shelter before the snow if they were on their own.

One hand axe, a mallet and a couple of knives was all that was left. Not that they started with much more than the clothes on their backs, personal belongings and tools. The few things that Louis did bring were lost with the pack animals in the skirmish when Claudia's Father was killed.

Louis was resourceful. With his young son and three daughters they chopped saplings and lashed them together. For a shovel Louis chopped wooden wedges so that they could be pounded with the mallet to cut sod from the ground near the pond to cover the building.

The frame to the tiny building was in place in short order; the back wall of the A-frame was being covered with sod by the girls. Rocks were collected in an attempt to build a fireplace for heat and cooking.

There still were problems. They had no food stores or winter clothing. A shelter also had to be put up for the horses and they could not keep them all. It would be hard enough to collect enough food for one or possibly two. Louis debated on setting the horses free or just shooting them when the snows came. He also had to take into account the limited ammunition and powder that they had left. The unwelcome image of the death card kept popping into his thoughts.

Claudia continued working with her pendulum. The moon had already begun waning as she pulled the stone from her bodice. As she closed her eyes the stone began to swing, slowly at first as it circled before steadily swinging back and forth. She was surprised. Again she stopped the stone, holding it still with one hand. Closing her eyes she released the stone and it began to swing purposefully again in the same direction as before. The third time she called to Louis. He watched as she tried again.

This time the stone swung hard back and forth yanking on the chain as it pulled. Claudia opened her eyes in surprise as the stone swung away from her, breaking free from the chain and landing several feet away.

The next day Louis and Rene went hunting to ensure that there would be enough food for the family before he set off in the direction of Claudia's stone to search for Golden Hair. He would be gone no longer than four days. _That should be long enough_ , he thought. _Two days out. Two days back._ He prayed to whoever was watching over them that Claudia's stone was right.

Early the next morning he set off. Claudia insisted on packing some food for him despite his protests. As he pressed on toward the direction set by the pendulum his mind became riddled with doubt.

Discouragement taunted him by day. By night the image of the death card haunted his dreams. It was late afternoon of the second day as he followed a small stream that emptied into a vernal pond at the base of a grassy hill.

He watered his horse and filled his skin. Then walking up the rise, letting his horse graze, he saw where the tall grass had been cut and raked into mounds.

Louis was stunned. He ran past the mounds searching the edge of the meadow for a trail - a trail that would lead him to the people that cut and gathered this grass, perhaps even Golden Hair.

### Chapter Twenty-Nine

Codi had been working with Master Ducane cutting and dragging large granite stones for the building foundation and fireplace. As the men dug out the hard, rocky soil and hauled it away Codi and Luke worked the oxen skidding the stones into place. The two men labored together under the hot summer sun developing a deep respect and affection for one another.

Everyone had a task to do. They all worked hard rising before dawn and working the long daylight hours of summer until it was dark.

Together they had their morning and evening meals. Regularly the women and children would bring midday meals, hot tea and water to those working in the fields cutting grass, cutting stone or felling trees. At night Luke was encouraged to share the family area of the Mackay's.

Cedric Stewart and Gavin Godfrey felled a giant tree that was to be used as the sumer pole, the main roof support that would span one end of their communal building to the other. After it was limbed all the men were called in to help move the enormous tree to the camp. Even with the oxen pulling the men had to help with chains and ropes.

"Put your backs to it," Master Ducane bellowed. "Look sharp!"

The men pulled in unison while the two Danann boys drove the team of oxen toward the building site and their camp.

When they arrived Hester Ducane was talking with a stranger. Nina was at her side. Louis Talbot stood beside his horse, hat in hand before the imposing Goodwoman Ducane. She stood there, arms crossed tightly over her chest as Nina looked between the two.

William quickly dropped his rope and strode up to them; several of the men followed behind him.

The stranger nervously turned to William and smiled. William quickly sized him up. He was dirty from the trail. Although he looked strong and fit for his age, his clothes hung on him as if he had missed too many meals. His mount also looked thin and had not been groomed for some time.

"He says that they fled from New Quebec," Hester began. "They ran into an Indian boy carrying a message about us and Nina. The boy told him they should come to us." Hester's thin lips gave no indication of her thoughts on this.

The man still stood there with his nervous smile, his hands worrying his hat.

"Where is your family?" William asked the man. Hester promptly answered for him.

William turned to Hester. "Why did the boy tell them to seek us out? How did they find us in this wilderness?" William was duly concerned as they had laid a wide swath through the wild as they cut their path to the Sacred Lands.

Hester asked the man in French and he slowly answered. She then shot several rapid questions at him and he answered becoming more afraid at each response. William wasn't sure if Hester's presence or the man's testimony made the stranger afraid.

A broad smile came over Hester's face. "Although he has no talent, evidently his wife and children seem to practice some of the Arts. And . . . " Hester's voice trailed off momentarily as she considered her next words. "He claims the boy said that the _Bokwjimen_ wanted them to come."

William looked to Nina. "What should we do?"

Nina smiled as she walked up to the man and kissed his cheek. "Welcome to your new home." Then she turned to William. "Perhaps this is the work of our summoning rite?"

Tears came to the man's eyes which they now knew as Louis Talbot.

The men went back to skidding the sumer pole down to the building site with Louis lending a helping hand. Then they broke for a well deserved rest and meal. Hester packed Louis's bags with food for his trip and spared a bit extra for his family. He was anxious to get back to his family and return here. Elliot saw that his mount received a decent run of the brush and curry comb over its sad coat. He inspected the hooves and gently filed the rough edges before Louis departed planning to return with his family before the week was out.

When William asked where Hester had learned French she reminded him that as a child she travelled the world with her merchant Father. Aside from learning languages and dialects of foreign lands the necessity to learn French, Latin, German and Italian were important to read the old texts and discuss practices with others as she studied the Arts. Hester never seemed to amaze William.

Anne took the water around to the men and Elliot offered her a seat next to him for the meal. She quickly made her rounds, grabbed some food and rushed back to sit next to Elliot. She pulled up short as she saw Freyja sitting next to Elliot laughing loudly and wiping dirt from his face.

Color flushed Anne's cheeks, her free hand clenched into a fist and her other hand crushed the stuffed breads. Luke came up behind her asking for some help and Anne turned her attentions to his needs which pushed the scene of Elliot and Freyja from her thoughts.

Once Luke was settled she asked if she could sit beside him. He happily agreed with a smile and they ate together finding pleasure in one another's company. Nina came by offering to repair Luke's ripped coat and smiling at Anne who instantly blushed.

Eventually Elliot got up to look for Anne and found her sitting with Luke. She was smiling and they spoke softly to one another like two conspirators deep within a plot. Elliot was not pleased. Their meal break was quickly over and everyone returned to their tasks.

Luke had enjoyed his time with these people but the dark purpose that had brought him there was coming swiftly to an end. The women's jobs were very routine where the men, physically stronger than most of the women, went from task to task. Still there were mundane chores that needed to be done daily and the women took charge of the work and shared them happily. Fetching the morning's water was the most predictable.

Meat was always running low and the men needed lots of it to keep working their back-breaking tasks. Luke offered to hunt the next afternoon. It would give him the opportunity to report back to Wilton. Luck was with him as he quickly bagged two small deer and tied them to his borrowed pack horse. When he reached Wilton's camp, Wilton's hungry eyes widened as he saw Luke's catch.

"They are for the group," Luke said stubbornly and then gave his observations to Wilton. They needed to move fast before the Talbot's returned. Their arrival could easily upset their carefully laid plans of capture and escape if their paths accidently crossed. Wilton did not wish to spend any more time in the wild alone than he had to.

Wilton grumbled as Luke left with his kills and then trudged down to the small stream behind the hill to catch more fish for dinner. He would also need more wood for his campfire which he could only burn for short periods - early in the morning before dawn and after sunset - in order not to be accidentally discovered.

A fat little rabbit peeked out at him from the opposite edge of the stream. Wilton's hand swiftly withdrew one of the pistols in his belt and went to take aim at the promise of a non-fish meal. He reluctantly returned the pistol to his belt as he realized the report would surely be heard by someone.

Soft curses played on his lips as he accepted the fact that his diet would consist of fish and berries for the next two days. The rabbit continued to stare at him. Wilton knelt down, picked up a stone and threw it at the animal. He widely missed his mark which angered him even more. The rabbit turned, its stubby tail lifted high, before bounding off into the woods.

### Chapter Thirty

Elliot attributed most of Anne's avoidance of him to the hard daily tasks and watching the two Danann boys. Their schedules just weren't falling together. Unfortunately that was not the case and then Luke had shown up seeming to capture Anne's attention.

Anne's anger still had not subsided. Freyja seemed to trail Elliot's heels and he did little to discourage her. She had heard they were close once, but that was just before she arrived to live with the Danann's.

Elliot had asked Anne to go hunting with him. Unable to overcome her anger she sharply refused. Elliot was dumbfounded.

His downcast manner swiftly attracted the attention of Freyja that evening. When she learned that Anne had refused to go with him she immediately volunteered insisting that her adequate tracking skills and the opportunity to explore the fauna of the area left him little room to turn her down.

He watched Anne sitting again with Luke. His jaw tightened as he turned to Freyja and told her to be ready at first light.

In the darkness of the next morning, with just the soft glow of the fire illuminating the camp, Elliot packed and readied his mount and pack animals. Freyja was already saddled and patiently waited for Elliot. As the group began to rise, lazily readying for the day, Elliot and Freyja slowly made their way out of camp.

Elliot took one last look over his shoulder as they made their way down the trail. He was sure it was Anne standing in front of the fire, hands on her hips. He could feel her eyes burning through him.

They travelled down the path that ran along the stream before turning off into the woods. Freyja had insisted on making the notations on the map and seemed to be continually chattering. Elliot had never remembered her being so infuriating. Several times he had to remind Freyja to be quiet. Already he had missed several shots due to a question, a cough or a sneeze that spooked his quarry or made him miss his mark. He had hoped to be done and back before dark. Now they would have to camp overnight.

As the sun set, Freyja took it upon herself to set up the camp ensuring that Elliot's bedding was next to hers. They sat next to each other, Freyja leaning against Elliot.

"Are you cold?" Elliot asked.

"No," Freyja said pushing closer against him and resting her head on his shoulder.

In that moment Elliot could see things through Anne's perspective. The look in her eyes that he took for anger was pain. The frustration in her voice was touched with regret. The same way he felt when she was with Luke.

Elliot sat up straighter, his hands firmly on his knees announcing: "I am going to marry Anne."

"Your heart is truly set on her?" Freyja asked.

"Yes," Elliot said.

"My disappointment is great," Freyja said.

"It could not be that great. You turned me down twice," Elliot said.

Freyja sighed. "To think I believed you loved me once."

"I still do, but I love Anne too," Elliot said. "It is different the love between us now."

"Have you told her?" Freyja said.

"Not yet," Elliot said.

"I had hoped we would spend this night together," Freyja said. "I miss those summer afternoons lying in your arms."

They ate in silence before turning in. That night Elliot went to sleep thinking of Anne and the times they would spend together. He knew in his heart they were right for one another. As soon as they returned he would tell her how he felt.

Freyja spent her evening recalling the sweltering heat of the hayloft, their skin slick with sweat. How Elliot smelled, tasted and the touch of his skin. The way the hay clung to their bodies and how his heart pounded in his chest against hers.

The next morning Elliot quickly bagged two small deer. There was not one question, cough or sneeze from Freyja. They returned back to the camp just before the midday meal. As they dismounted Freyja whispered good-luck to Elliot and kissed him softly on the lips.

Sitting across the camp with Luke, Anne watched their arrival in disbelief. She kissed him! Anne was furious. At first she couldn't move, her limbs frozen in place as Elliot quickly covered the distance between them.

He was within a few strides of her now. From the expression on his face he had something on his mind she was sure. Then it came to her - she'd give him something to think about! Turning toward Luke she placed one hand on his shoulder and pressed her lips against his.

Elliot stopped in his tracks before turning and getting caught up by the questions of the other men. He looked back once again to see Anne and Luke still pressed against each other.

When Anne finally broke contact Luke was stunned. His first kiss - so swift, so unexpected. It was over before he realized what happened. He didn't know what to do.

Her cheeks red from anger and embarrassment, Anne didn't know what to say except the truth, "That was foolish of me."

"I will be leaving soon," Luke said regretfully.

Anne forced a small smile and then excused herself hoping to find a private spot to hide away with her sorrows in the very public camp area.

### Chapter Thirty-One

Wilton stood off to the side of the small path that led to the stream. He could hear Nina approaching, the wooden buckets clanking together. Once she was past, he stepped out behind her and swiftly wrapped a garrote around her neck.

She was strong, twisting and pulling. Her feet kicked and her elbows were sharp - landing several blows on Wilton before her she became limp as her breath deprived body slipped into darkness.

_How long did it take? A few seconds? A minute?_ Wilton wasn't sure but he wanted her alive. He loosened the garrote and Nina dropped to the ground with a thump.

Quickly he bound and gagged her. He dragged her twenty feet to where his horse was tethered and threw her onto its back. Once mounted behind her, he quickly trotted off to his camp to pick up the rest of his belongings.

Luke would be back soon. Wilton again wondered if he needed Luke any longer. While he was securing the last of his packed belongs to the extra mount Luke arrived in camp.

"Hurry!" Wilton hissed. "Were they aware when you left?"

"No," Luke responded. "They were still breaking fast and waiting for Nina to bring back the water."

"Well they probably know by now," Wilton snarled. "Let us move out."

Nina slowly came to consciousness and realized her situation. She struggled against her bonds under the dark cloak covering her.

Wilton thumped her on the head saying, "Be still Witch or I will throttle you!"

A strangled scream came from Nina. Wilton took his riding crop and lashed the cloaked bundle several times.

"There is plenty more of that, if you like it. We are going to find out all the things you _like_ to do, Witch," Wilton said sweetly as his hand caressed the curve of her buttocks and she tried to scream again.

Wilton whipped her soundly on her backside several times as the pressure mounted in his groin.

"Eager for more are we? Be patient my little Witch," Wilton laughed. "We will have a _very_ good time. Just the two of us."

Wilton was the instrument through which God worked his will. If he had to lie in sin with Satan's whores it must be part of the Lord's plan. His faith would not be shaken by doubting the process.

Luke took the pack mount and turned sharply to lead them into the wild. He wasn't happy with what Wilton had done. Wilton was just supposed to bring her back to the village. But now Wilton seemed even darker and more threatening to himself and to Nina.

Sadly he worried for Nina. He could hear muffled sobbing coming from the bundle on Wilton's horse. She was kind to him. In fact everyone there was kind to him - especially Anne. He had deep feelings for her, but now that would be gone. So easily he had stepped from his way onto Wilton's dark path and in doing so dragged Nina along to her doom.

### Chapter Thirty-Two

Freyja sat back from the bustle of the group as they began to break fast. Her knees were close together, her legs slightly angled to her right. In her right hand was a distaff connected by a rough length of fibers that met the finger and thumb of her left hand. As she twisted and smoothed the fibers between her fingers, the connected bobbin twirled and swung freely at her left side. Freyja's eyes no longer focused on her fingers busily working to tame the tangle of wool into a smooth and even thread. Her sight had passed that plane, looking deeply into another space as she quickly slipped into trance.

Everyone who was not occupied with morning kitchen chores were busily fetching their food and drinks. Anne had returned from the stream with the first buckets of water, emptied them into the larger barrel and then set the buckets down. She then went to pack some food for Luke as he was leaving that morning.

Cedric Stewart had brought a pail of milk and set it down. "Still not up to full production, but she did not dry up - thank the Goddess!" Both the Danann's and the Stewart's brought a milking cow. The long, hard travel was difficult on them and it was quickly evidenced in the quantity of milk they gave. Within a few days of rest, plenty of grass and clover, the output of both girls went up substantially although not at peak. It was indeed a good sign.

Nina quickly finished her meal and grabbed the two water buckets. It was her turn to get the next round of water from the stream. The morning was cool and the cloudless skies were a clear blue. Her wooden buckets clanked together as she walked down the small trail that led to the stream.

Luke had finished his meal and thanked Anne for the package of food. He needed to leave now before anyone realized that something was amiss. Each moment seemed to drag out into forever as he tried to hurry his departure without calling attention to his exit. The men huddled around him, patting him on the back and shaking hands, thanking him for his help. Anne kissed his cheek and wished him a safe trip. Elliot was still brushing his horse. It seemed as if that was taking longer than normal as well.

William and the boys came back with a half pail of milk and set it down next to the Stewart's near empty bucket and announced, "Here is the last of the morning's milk." Some got up and ladled the fresh milk into their mugs. Other's just settled for more hot tea.

Elliot finally brought Luke's horse out. He climbed into his saddle and waved as he departed down the wide track. Soon the group went back about their morning business, finishing breakfast and discussing the day's work ahead. Hester called out that they would need more wood for the kitchen fires - small, thin kindling that would light fast and quickly burn hot. The elders would supervise the children in gathering and cutting the small wood.

Freyja still sat in trance spinning when the thread snapped, the bobbin falling to the ground and spinning like a top in the dirt. It continued to spin, faster and faster instead of slowing and winding down. She bent over to pick up the bobbin and was pricked by the pin, causing her finger to bleed. "Ouch! Never has that happened!" she cried as she sucked her injured finger. Standing there she was trying to recall her vision and the meaning.

Rhona Godfrey filled the kettle on the fire to heat more water. There would be many dishes and pots to wash. There wasn't enough water to fill the pot. Rhona looked about for the water buckets. "Where is Nina with the water?" she called out to no one in particular.

"Left about a half hour or more to fetch it," Anne replied. "She should be back any moment."

Rhona stood there with her hands on her hips, looking toward the head of the path expecting Nina to emerge any second.

"Pass me the big, flat knife. In the box over there," Hester said to Rhona while pointing to the box. Hester had skinned several rabbits and was preparing them as stew for a later meal.

"What a lovely bunch! Who caught them?" Rhona said.

"Codi has been setting traps. He has been talking about setting up a pen maybe to breed them. Easier than catching them I guess," Hester said. "But not for this year. It will be hard enough to feed the animals we have, let alone adding more hungry mouths."

The two women talked for a while about the ingredients for a proper rabbit stew when Freyja came up looking for a cup of water and a rag to bandage her finger.

"Nina! She is not back!" Rhona said.

"What do you mean Nina is not back?" William asked.

"She went for water. It must be over an hour now!" Rhona replied. The concern in her voice clear as it usually took just a little more than half hour to return with water from the stream.

Freyja sucked on her wounded finger. Something is very wrong. Very wrong. She tried to remember her visions in the trance. _She was flying and there was an owl falling from the sky and . . ._ but the thoughts vanished as the thread broke and she cut her finger.

William dashed for the path to the stream with Elliot Ducane, Cedric Stewart and Gavin Godfrey at his heels. "Nina! Nina!" they called out as they hurried along the trail toward the stream.

The water buckets lying on the ground stopped William in his tracks. "Nina! Nina!" he called frantically.

She did not answer. They searched the woods near the trail down to the stream and found evidence of a horse and large boot prints, probably from a man. The clear prints of shod hooves would unlikely be attributed to an Indian abductor. Someone - perhaps even someone from Salem - had kidnapped Nina. Would they travel so far? William thought. _Luke! Could it have been Luke?_ But William knew that the boot prints were much larger than Luke's. With no more to do here, they raced back to the camp to get Codi Mackay and Master MacLeod. They were the two men with the best hunting and tracking skills.

With little time to lose, they informed the group of Nina's probable abduction. Those remaining behind with the children and elders would post guard and stay close to the camp's center.

"I am going too," Hester Ducane said sharply. Master Ducane opened his mouth in protest and then quickly clamped his lips shut. He knew not to argue with his wife when she was in that state, so he also joined the party. In short order they saddled up their mounts, checked their arms and were on the trail toward the stream.

Codi slid off his horse and looked down at the ground. "Your prints have covered some of theirs, but it looks like she would have been grabbed here," he pointed to the ground, "and dragged here," he pointed to where the horse prints were.

"There is hope, Master Danann. The ground is favorable to leaving us a good trail to follow and when that is no more the trees bear witness to their path," Master MacLeod said pointing to the small branches that were broken in passing. "Let us hurry now. They do not have much of a lead ahead of us!"

### Chapter Thirty-Three

As they threaded through the thick woods, off their old path and avoiding the wide slash made by the families when they cut their way toward their new homeland, Wilton hissed and berated Luke for his choices.

A shudder overcame Nina as she passed through the veil that surrounded the Sacred Lands. She was outside of its protective embrace. She felt lost and alone. The deep connection to nature and the land suddenly cut away from her senses.

"We are moving too slowly! They will be upon us before the day is out!" Wilton's voice squeaked.

Luke grimaced. He was wrestling with this burden. There was no denying that he was responsible for Nina's capture by Wilton. Captain Jacobs had ordered him to follow Wilton's commands to the letter, but he had already demonstrated his willingness to go against that order beginning with his refusal to kidnap Nina himself.

There were other, smaller things that he had done before which could be considered against Wilton's wishes, but those were minor. Leading Wilton back to Salem Village with Nina would not end well. Luke had already decided that he would not return to the barracks, rather he would set off on his own.

_But to where?_ During the past few days it felt good to be part of a group that treated him as an equal. Briefly he had thought about what it would be like to live among them. Anne seemed to take a liking to him and he felt respect from the men and women. They all worked hard, treated each other well and what was wrong with that? Why would Wilton or anyone else think they were dangerous? He would finish his task and be on his way. It wasn't up to him to decide if they were wrong or right . . . _or was it?_

Luke's sharp ears heard branches snapping far behind them and the soft clop of hooves in the damp earth. He turned down the hill and crossed a small stream that ran around a large outcrop of rock. Water cascaded over the rocks from above, feeding the stream. The water bubbling and gurgling as it traveled its course.

"Where are you going?" Wilton hissed again. "You have turned us west again! I am sure of it!"

Luke dismounted and led his horse to the stream to drink. "It is warm. The horses need water and some rest if we are to continue."

"We have been crisscrossing this stream for over an hour! Why have you turned us west?" Wilton squeaked.

"For cover," Luke replied, his ears straining to hear for an approach behind them but the rushing water drowned out those sounds. "The woman needs water and rest too. Untie her."

"You dare to order me?" Wilton's voice squeaked. "You dare?"

Luke went to Nina's horse and began to untie her from the saddle.

Wilton struck Luke's face with the back of his hand. "You are to follow my orders! Get back on your horse now and lead us to Salem." He pulled on Nina's bindings and once satisfied she was secure mounted his horse. The reins of her horse were double hitched to his saddle.

Wilton turned and saw Luke standing next to his horse. "Mount!" Wilton bellowed and pulled one of the pistols from his waist and pointed it at Luke. "You either lead us back or I will shoot you dead here."

"It is not right. This woman has done nothing wrong," Luke protested as Wilton waved the pistol in his direction.

"Time is against us! Mount or I promise I will send you to hell with the rest of your brethren. It makes no difference to me," Wilton seethed, his focus on the insolent savage. So consumed with anger, he did not hear William or Codi's horse until they were almost upon him.

Codi's knife sliced through the reins of Nina's horse.

William was only feet away when Wilton turned to meet him. Instantly he recognized the face of the man as the courier he had met in Boston. William froze for that sliver of a second giving Wilton time to swing the pistol toward him.

Codi now had the reins of Nina's horse securely in his hands and turned to lead her away.

Luke drew his knife and threw it at Wilton. It sunk deeply into the upper part of his arm that held the pistol.

Wilton's arm jerked from the knife as he pulled the trigger and missed William. He dropped the first pistol and pulled the knife from his arm letting it fall to the ground.

Nina fell forward on her horse. Her hands were bound to the saddle and her ankles lashed to the stirrups.

William reached for Wilton, but he pulled a second pistol and shot blindly at William as he spurred his horse off into the forest losing his second pistol.

"William! William!" Codi called out. "Nina's hurt!" Quickly he untied her from the horse, removed her gag and laid her carefully on the ground.

They gathered around Nina. Blood was spreading across her back. William held Nina in his arms as they cut the cloth away to reveal what they already knew they would find. Blood was pouring from a hole in her back. Nina was already pale from the loss.

They lay Nina down on her side, William holding her head in his lap as the group examined the wound.

"It is too great," Codi Mackay breathed and then tried putting pressure on the wound.

The men went to give chase but Hester Ducane stopped them saying, "Let him go."

"But he will be back. Perhaps with others! They will know where we are." Gavin Godfrey said.

"They may already know. Risking our lives will not help matters," Hester said. "I will ensure they will not look for us again." She broke a branch from a pine tree with long, thin needles and used it as a broom to brush the sand and dirt smooth near the water's edge. Drawing a wand from the folds of her petticoat she began to sketch a numbered tablet and sigils enclosed in a wide circle on the ground.

Master Ducane frowned at the images Hester drew. "Take care Hester. We do not wish to bring about our own destruction!"

Hester looked down at her work. Her husband was right. She was so angry she was about to summon their own doom in the wake of her revenge. The Arts that the Ducane's practiced were old, perhaps even as old as the Danann's but they were considered in most circles as dark and extremely dangerous even to the most skilled adept.

After thinking for a minute a smile spread across her face. She swept out part of the drawing and replaced it with a very different sigil. This contained a rectangle intersected by vertical lines. Near the center a series of circles with lines leading out to the edge of the rectangle were plainly visible. "Better?" she asked her husband.

He nodded. Hester began to summon an old friend.

In the circle, above the sigil the air began to stir. A thin wisp began to form curling, winding, twisting becoming thicker, broader, taller. Its pale colors became deeper, richer and more vibrant - giving off flecks of sparkles. Soon it became opaque, coalescing into a breathing form.

Hester smiled as she looked down at her old friend. To her and her husband it appeared as a small, innocent child. Gavin Godfrey and Codi Mackay saw it as a small bearded man, with black heeled shoes, a black buckled hat and a green waist coat. Luke saw the figure a devilish creature, complete with horns and a long pointed tail.

"Mistress Ducane," the creature said bowing deeply. "Your summons is always a pleasure."

Hester stood there smiling. She crouched down so that she was eye level with the creature. "I have a very important task that only you can do, Malpas."

"It pleases me that you have confidence in my work," Malpas grinned happily.

Hester began to tell him of his task. It giggled in its impish delight, clapping its small hands and hopping up and down in anticipation. In the end she gave the creature a taste of the blood on the knife. Its long, thin pink tongue darted out between its rows of sharp teeth and swiftly cleaned the blood from the knife, smacking its lips when it was done. Hester swept her foot across the sand, breaking the circle and released him. With a scream of laughter it shot past them and into the woods following the direction of Wilton's escape route.

"What is it she charged him to do? Will it kill them?" Gavin whispered to Master Ducane.

"No, but those who caused or wish us harm will wish they were dead," Master Ducane breathed. "Never cross one of the Arts without reason, especially with Hester in your pocket."

William's wails of sorrow immediately conveyed the passing of Nina. He clutched her body desperately rocking back and forth.

Codi rose, his red and wet eyes fixed on Luke. He went for him, grabbing him by the hair and screamed, "Why? Why did you do this?"

The other men began to crowd around the two.

"Stop!" William cried. "Another death will not return my Nina."

Codi roughly let him go and screamed at Luke, "We shared our table with you! She mended your coat!" He reached out and rent the front of Luke's coat. Gavin pulled Codi back.

"Nina . . . Nina said he tried to help," William sobbed.

Codi roughly shoved Luke before turning away in disgust. The men walked slowly away.

"Wilton was supposed to take her back to Salem. I was ordered to be his guide," Luke said. "I knew part of his plan but to stop him on my own . . ."

"Enough excuses! Go! Be gone from my sight!" Codi screamed.

Luke sadly turned, taking up the reins of his horse.

"Wait," Hester said. "Where are you going?"

Luke turned to her. "I have no home. No path . . ."

"You will return with us. You have a strong back and work hard," Hester said.

"Where is your sense, Goodwoman Ducane?" Codi cried. "He is part of the reason Nina is dead! Our Banriona!"

"Not by his hand," Hester said. "We know he is not without blame, but he is not the reason Nina is dead. Would you waste her last few words at his defense?"

"I cannot live under the same roof with that man," Codi shot back.

"What roof?" Hester said putting her hands on her hips. "We need all the man power we can get and there stands Luke. Both of you worked side by side. Did he not pull his own weight?"

"Yes," Codi mumbled disgruntled.

"So after he helps us build a roof, you may decide if you wish to live under it," Hester said sharply.

Codi turned and walked away. Hester turned to Luke saying, "Come along Master Luke. We have much work ahead of us."

"I owe you thanks," Luke said softly.

"I trust you will rise above this disappointment," Hester said. "As you have seen I do not suffer disappointment well."

### Chapter Thirty-Four

Wilton rode wild and as fast as he could threading through the thickening forest. His hat was lost, his pistols gone. The bleeding in his arm seemed to have stopped so he assumed that it was just a bad flesh wound. Taking his frustration out on his mount he yanked at the reins, pulling his horse left and right so hard that the animal began to protest. Wilton slashed his riding crop against its neck and the horse reared and twisted, throwing Wilton off center.

He swore, holding onto the saddle and yanked on the reins. The horse screamed, dropped and rolled over forcing Wilton to jump off or be crushed. Once the horse was free from its cruel rider, it took off into the forest leaving Wilton behind.

"The Devil take you!" Wilton screamed after his mount. Then he groaned realizing he was stranded in the wild. "Damn Luke! Damn Danann Witch!" he muttered. He sat on a large boulder and tried to assess his situation. He wondered if that damned horse would come back after a while or perhaps he should try to follow it. _How_ _did everything go wrong so fast?_ The Dannan land was within his grasp - _all twenty thousand acres! And Hobart's holdings and title!_ Wilton groaned _._

He ripped his shirt to bandage his arm. Once he was satisfied it was secured he decided to see if he could find his mount. The Witches weren't following him for he should have heard them by now if they were in pursuit. He trudged off through the forest, following broken branches and the occasional hoof print left in the soil. Luckily the signs were bold enough for him as Wilton was no tracker.

Breaking through the trees, he came upon an open meadow. Standing in the middle was his mount grazing lazily at the grass and clover at its feet. Wilton walked slowly up to his horse. He cautiously reached out his hand and grabbed its reins. The horse whinnied briefly and snorted but stood its ground. After checking the saddle and adjusting the girth, Wilton gently slid his foot into the stirrup and swiftly regained his seat. Directing the horse to a south-easterly route across the meadow, Wilton began walking the horse toward Salem Village.

As he passed out of meadow and back into the woods, something jumped onto his back. Wilton whipped his head around and found himself staring into the face of a hideous creature. Malpas smiled and then bit Wilton's other arm and pulled at his hair.

Wilton screeched, dropping the reins and tried to grab the abomination. The horse, given its own head, began to race through the trees. Branches slapped at Wilton's face, arms and chest. He bounced wildly in his saddle almost unseating himself. Each time his hands wrapped around a part of the beast the limb would slide from his grasp as if it were oiled.

The horse and rider careened through the wild. Suddenly a low limb struck Wilton full in the chest, knocking the air from him and flattening him across the back of his mount. He should have been swept off, but he was firmly lashed to the saddle and girth by sinewy strands of plant matter.

Malpas now squatted on Wilton's chest. He continually pinched, bit and scratched at Wilton leaving him no respite except when Malpas felt the horse needed rest.

"You have more pity for the animal than you do for me!" Wilton accused as Malpas led the horse to water and fresh grazing with soothing words and gentle strokes across its coat.

"There is no pity for you and your wickedness, Master Wilton," Malpas sneered back. "And the beast has not caused my Mistress any ill."

Several nights later Malpas found Wilton's tools of confession. Wilton awoke screaming as Malpas tested his body for spots immune to pain by pinching and sticking his flesh with pliers and long pins. Malpas spent an inordinately long time examining several moles on Wilton's back. Malpas squealed in delight each time Wilton shrieked.

The torture and interrogations continued.

"Who sent you?" Malpas demanded although he already knew.

Wilton cried, "Somes! It was Master Somes! He did this to me!"

Over and over Malpas demanded and over and over Wilton screamed Somes name until Wilton just screamed unrelenting curses at Somes awake and in his tortured sleep without prompting.

When they arrived at Salem Village the half-naked, bruised, cut and bleeding Wilton was still screaming epithets at Somes.

Villagers gathered around in curiosity and fear. Among them was Some's slave, Cicely. She ran back to her Master's house.

Bursting through the door, she breathlessly cried for Master Somes. "He calls your name! That man who was here the night of the storm with the book!"

Somes raced to see what the commotion was and anxious to look upon the face of the Danann Witch as he accused her. He fought to keep a smile from his face as he hurriedly strode down the road toward the noisy crowd momentarily ignoring the constant itch at his groin. He pressed his way through the mob until he came upon the shocking sight causing him to draw back involuntarily, inhaling sharply as he realized the nightmare before him. Goody Danann wasn't there.

Instead he saw the wretch that he had known as Wilton screaming his name, blaming him for his distress. Wilton was no longer an imposing figure. His once sharp and penetrating eyes were still soulless, but now they were wild and filled with horror. Small animal bones were tied in his unkempt hair and beard. The once menacing presence now evoked a different fear within Somes. The man's wounds were oozing and maggoty making him repulsive. Somes feared he would be tainted by the man's words _and_ by his touch.

"I have never seen this man before," the Reverend said resolutely. His face tightening and flushed with anger.

"But it is him. The man who came to the house that night of the storm," Cicely insisted. "You wished to speak with him alone!"

The Reverend turned and slapped his servant hard. "You dare accuse me of lying! Never correct me again on subjects you know nothing about!"

Cicely's hand went to her bleeding lip. Somes never had a civil word to her in all the years she had been under his roof. In the past she had fantasized about running away. Finally she resolved to make her escape and began to work a plan in her mind. She turned and ran back to the Somes house.

The crowd was still surrounding Wilton making accusations and throwing small stones and items at the man. Wilton continued screaming, begging Somes for help, crying about a tortuous devil that had beset him. "Have mercy upon me brother!" Wilton screamed imploringly at Somes.

Somes shrank back even further. This was a dangerous game for him if the crowd turned to Wilton's words.

"Books! Look at the devil's books!" someone from the crowd cried holding up the _Malleus Maleficarum_ and _The Book of Secrets of Albertus Magnus_. Wilton's bags were dumped and shredded on the ground. Various herbs, a moon stone, a crude clay figure of an unclothed woman and a piece of wood resembling a wand were found contained within. Without warning a great pile of celery seed spilled from Wilton's pockets as if emptied by some unseen hand.

"It proves he flies! He uses the seeds to keep him from dizzy spells at great heights!" someone yelled. The crowd gasped in horror and delight at the telling.

Strange letters written in neither English nor Latin were also presented to the street jury as evidence. What they were would never be known as the crowd destroyed much of what they discovered.

"The devil should be hanged!" Somes cried. "Those books confirm his guilt of consorting with the devil!"

"Hang the Witch! Hang the Witch!" the mob began to scream.

Somes quietly backed out of the crowd to seek the constable.

### Chapter Thirty-Five

Anne and the Danann boys had been on their own since Nina's burial. William had stayed by the grave. He was distraught. He was broken. The Talbot family should arrive any day now and it should be him that oversaw their placement within the group. Anne whispered under her breath, "This has to stop."

Then she pulled up short, her thoughts drifting toward Nina. As tears filled her eyes, her heart felt as if it would surely break from grief. Her fists clenched over her breast, her eyes squeezed tight as she tried to fight the tears that began to spill over her cheeks. Unexpectedly laughter overtook her as she remembered the first time Nina decided to put on trousers. She wiped her eyes, took a deep breath and set about to take care of what needed to be done.

She left the boys stacking wood and went to Elliot ordering him to saddle William and Nina's horses. At the kitchen area she packed some bread and cheese. Pulling an empty skin from a nail, she filled it with water.

Then she went to Hester Ducane. "I need you to watch the boys for a few hours," Anne said.

Hester put her hands to her hips wondering about Anne's request. "There is much work to do, Miss Anne. We are running out of time before the snow comes and Master Dannan is still in mourning so we are short a man. You have chores that will be neglected?"

"I have a more important chore right now," Anne said and ignored Hester's chagrined look. "The boys are helping stack wood. I will be back in a couple of hours."

Elliot brought the two horses up behind her. "Thank you, Elliot," Anne said and mounted Nina's horse, holding William's horse by the reins. Elliot tied the bag of food and water skin to William's saddle and watched Anne ride out of camp.

She followed the trail as it ran parallel to the stream until she came to the crossing and then turned to follow the narrow path to the meadow rise where they had buried Nina two days before.

William was sitting next to the grave holding a garland of dead flowers and grasses. He had watched the sun rise, reminiscing about the first time he had seen her. When he closed his eyes it seemed that the smell of heather and freshly mown grass was in the air as it was that morning. So caught up in his memory of her, he did not hear Anne and the horses coming up behind him.

"Master Danann?" Anne said softly.

William sighed and opened his eyes to look at the mound of earth beside him, tossing the circlet of dead flowers onto the fresh dirt of Nina's grave before turning to acknowledge Anne.

She slid off her mount, offering the food to William. "You need to eat."

"Thank you," William said taking the food from her.

"I am sorry. We are all so sorry . . . " Anne began, "but the boys need you. The Geassa needs you."

"Sit, please," William said. "There are things we need to talk about."

Anne sat next to him as he ate the bread and cheese.

"I know I have great responsibilities," William said. "Nina and I had often spoken about what we would do if something happened to either one of us. Though I never dreamed that time would come so soon . . . so brutally."

Anne's eyes began to fill with tears. She tried to be strong the past two days with the boys. There was no time for her to be alone, to grieve openly. Her shoulders shook as she began sobbing, "I thought we were all so safe . . . I loved her so much . . . It is beyond belief . . ."

William put his arm around Anne and held her as she sobbed uncontrollably. "You have been a wonderful addition to our house and our work. Nina was always very happy that you came into our lives.

She was impressed by your commitment and studies. Always telling me how well you were doing. Even going so far as to say that your discipline would make a splendid coven maiden - even the natural talent to become Banriona if the need ever arose.

Codi even remarked on your progress and I must apologize for not overseeing your studies as closely as I should have. I always thought there was plenty of time . . ." William paused in mid sentence before continuing. "When we were in Salem there was no opportunity to properly initiate you into the Murias. Once we are settled, if you wish it . . ."

Anne pulled away drying her eyes with her sleeve. "What are you saying?"

"Our works, the Geassa, the bond must continue. Nina's death does not change that," William's eyes began to fill with tears. "We must continue to work toward the future and we need a new Banriona."

Anne's eyes widened. "You do not mean for me . . ."

"Not right away. Freyja has the most experience and as Llawforwyn it makes sense for her to make that ascension now," William explained. "It is the most important position in our ways and is usually held by a Danann woman. My sons will not take wives for several years."

"Of course," Anne said wiping her eyes as her tears subsided.

"Exceptions have been made in the past and it is my plan for you to take the Llawforwyn position until you are trained to become Banriona within the next two years if you are willing," William said. "That means you will have to work harder at your studies and practices in order to be ready."

"Oh Master Danann, it is a great honor you offer me!" Anne said as her eyes began to fill with tears again.

"I think Nina would be very pleased," William said. "Keep this to yourself for now. Tell the others I will have news when I return.

Go now. I will return before dark. I just need a little more time alone with my grief."

Anne nodded and kissed William's cheek before leaving.

William reached for the circlet of dead flowers and held it in his hand. His mind drifted back again to the first day that they had met.

### Chapter Thirty-Six

William remembered that day clearly even though it was more than nine years ago.

It was early morning while breaking fast when his Uncle, seated across the table from him, informed William that company was coming in the form of a proposed bride.

"Uncle! How could you even think about this without consulting me?" William was furious.

"We have waited long enough for you to settle down. The years slip by me now. Faster they go and lately they have not been kind to me," his Uncle stated with a sigh. "You know that we walk a tight line. Our practices are threatened. Many already lost. It is high time you find a suitable wife and carry on our bloodline and traditions."

"Who is she?" William finally asked. "What does she look like?"

"Tall and slender," the Uncle said slowly.

Gangly, boney and most probably flat-chested, William thought silently.

"She is smart. Well versed in the Arts," the Uncle continued. "Her family's traditions are very old. This is a wonderful opportunity for you and for our practices."

An ugly know-it-all, William deduced. "Uncle I feel this is not a good idea. Especially today - I have many chores to finish before equinox."

His Uncle waved his hand dismissing William's attempt at excuses. "She will be here today with her Father. We will have the midday meal together and then discuss the arrangements. You worry too much. If she would not make an adequate wife . . ."

An adequate wife? William thought cringing. My fate is already sealed! Why bother meeting her now? The old man should just introduce us at the wedding feast and be done with it!

William pushed his plate away and rose from his seat heading for the back door.

"Where are you going? Finish your meal!" his Uncle called to him.

William slammed the door behind him and marched out to the back field. He climbed upon an outcrop of rocks to watch the sun rise. The mist was thick on the field, the scent of mown grass and heather drifting in the cool gentle breezes of the morning. His mind was twisting in the thoughts of his Uncle's intentions when he saw a light in the distance.

It wasn't the sun rising, the sky was still dark and the light announcing it's arrival was still a half hour away. The light bobbed and swayed. Some phantom light. Surely it must be some Sidhe to come spirit him away from this madness.

The light was coming nearer, still swaying and bobbing down the path toward the back of the farm. He continued to watch and wait - wondering if it was real or some ethereal apparition.

As the sky began to lighten, heralding the rise of the morning sun, the phantom light faded out and in its place was a figure that seemed to glide through the mist. Clad in a grey or black cloak, the silhouette from the waist up was clearly defined, but unnervingly disappeared from the waist down into the mist.

The figure was coming closer now, the sun rising behind it creating a blinding nimbus around the it. William put his arm across his face to shield his eyes as he tried to make out what the figure was. It never occurred to him to run away, even though fear gripped him his curiosity won out.

Only feet away the creature spoke, "Good morning to you." It was a woman's voice, soft and beautiful.

"And to you," William managed to respond. She shook her head, the hood of her cloak fell back as her blonde hair caught the rays of the morning sun.

She was beautiful. The most beautiful woman he had ever seen. _Was she real?_ William wondered.

William slid off the rocks and deeply bowed, "William Donnelly at your service."

"William?" she asked hesitantly walking closer and placing a hand on his cheek. "My William?"

She was as tall as he, their eyes locked; she was smiling as she leaned into him pressing her lips against his. "My William. We are well met." Her voice sounded like the whispers of some delicate fey creature as his heart pounded and his breathing quickened. His arms slipped around her and pulled her close to him.

Dropping her belongings, her arms encircled William, willingly surrendering to his embrace and kisses.

Breathlessly they pulled apart. She laughed softly, slightly embarrassed at her behavior towards this man - her William. She picked up her bag and reached inside withdrawing a small bundle of baked breads.

"Are you hungry?" she asked.

William looked at her hand offering the goods. Even though the warmth from the oven was long past, the smell of the bread was overwhelming. She broke a piece off and pressed it against his lips.

His hand went up to hold her wrist. If she is Sidhe, my fate would be sealed with one bite, he thought. But better ensnared by this beautiful creature than married to a 'suitable wife'. He opened his mouth and took the bread, kissing the crumbs from her fingers. "Delicious . . ." he murmured. "You have captured me - enchanted me fair and square. I am yours forever."

"Captured you?" the woman laughed.

"Am I asleep or are you not the most beautiful faery in the land?" William said still kissing her fingers.

"You are not asleep, my beloved intended," the woman said.

"Intended?" William said softly.

"Yes. Are you not William Donnelly? Or have I found myself seduced by another? My Father and your Uncle conspire to make us a match. I am Nina Danann." She smiled to him. "You are pleased?"

"Well pleased," William said smiling as he looked at her face, committing to memory every detail of her beauty and grace.

He could still remember each detail - stray hairs caught by the breeze, her long lashes and soft lips. The deep blue eyes that any man would willingly drown in. The sound of her voice when she greeted him that morning.

William sat there on the grassy meadow. His eyes half closed with a smile on his face. He twisted the dried garland of flowers between his fingers one last time and then gently placed it on Nina's grave.

### Chapter Thirty-Seven

The Reverend grumbled as he crawled into his bed alone. His wife had taken to sleeping with their daughters for the past week with no indication that she may ever return to their bed. He scratched at his groin trying to ease the increasingly incessant itching. Just last Sunday he almost couldn't get through his sermon because of the irritation.

His congregation had dwindled to a handful of the faithful. Even the press of the devil within their midst could not increase his following. _Perhaps they should move to Virginia_ , he thought. His wife's family was from there so they would be obligated to help them settle and integrate into the community.

With his bible in hand he had intended to read a few verses before putting out the candle but his mind still raced on his run of bad luck. Wilton had returned and was properly hanged. How could he have been such a fool! The Reverend shuddered as he recalled Wilton shouting his name in the streets, clawing wildly at some invisible imp that he claimed rode him day and night. Those books. Those damning books! People in town still looked at him wondering about his involvement. Tension and more accusations of witchcraft softly played on many of the lips of the residents.

Consigned as the Reverend to oversee Wilton's hanging, Somes had reluctantly followed the cart with the condemned over Town Bridge, turning left and following the road - little more than a cart path - up the hill to a small copse of trees. Townsfolk slowly gathered and followed behind.

A rope was slung over a sturdy limb of one of the trees. The great limb reached out, away from its trunk as though grown for this sole purpose. Wilton was standing on the cart, near the back edge. The noose was placed over Wilton's head and pulled snug. Wilton cried out for mercy from Somes as the horses were whipped, the cart pulling away leaving Wilton hanging. His feet kicked and he struggled during the slow strangulation - the noose wasn't set properly to break his neck when he dropped. Whether it happened by accident or design, somehow it seemed fitting for a man who routinely hung or garroted others. No one stepped forward to quicken his end.

Somes had trembled clutching his bible against his chest with fingers so tight about it they were white from loss of blood. He prayed deeply and fervently, begging God's protection and forgiveness. He prayed not for Wilton as was his charge, but for himself. After the deed had been done he barely remembered the trip back to his home.

He sighed as he thought of the loss of the Danann farm. That should have been his. Even the loss of the barn still made him grind his teeth. _If that idiot hadn't dropped his torch in the barn after he was spooked by the cows_ . . . but that was done. The barn burned to the ground along with the livestock within. Then there were the other farms. They all could have been his. _Bad luck. Just bad luck!_

After placing the unread bible on the side table, he leaned over to blow out the candle. The room was softly lit by the waxing moon shining through the small open window. Reaching under his night shirt he gave his groin one last scratch and then would attempt to sleep before the itching resumed. His eyes closed, the covers tucked under his chin, his hands on his chest.

Sleep did come swiftly to Reverend Somes, but the respite was brief. He woke from his slumber, the blackened scabs on his permanently flaccid manhood itching again and there was a great weight on his chest. His eyes snapped open and beheld the nightmare before him. It must be a nightmare as something so hideous could not be real.

Malpas was perched on Master Somes chest, smiling broadly to display his sharp teeth, its slender pink tongue flicked in and out of its mouth. The small horns on his head shone brightly in the moon light and his long pointed tail flicked back and forth like an angry house cat. Malpas reached out one clawed hand and pinched Somes nose, its sharp nails digging into his skin and drawing blood.

The pain was excruciatingly real and the ear-splitting screams from Somes woke his household and many of the families nearby.

### Caer Danann, Whitewood, NH Present Day

Arian closed the cover of the leather bound book as she stared into the dying coals of the hearth. The room had grown dark except for the soft glow cast by the single candle that sat on the small table next to the rich leather chair that she was seated in.

While the basic facts of her family's history with their escape from Salem Village had always been known to her; the intimate details of the lives of her ancestors had never been discussed. Reading these pages made it seem so familiar, so vivid.

Arian rose to replace the book on the shelf when her Uncle's voice broke the silence.

"Quite a story, isn't it?" Henry said. He was seated at a desk off to the side sipping a glass of Merlot.

"How long have you been sitting there? I never heard you come in," Arian said.

"Not long," Henry said. "Nina was an incredible woman and the first Banriona of the clan here in the colonies."

"Yes," Arian said thoughtfully. "It is a wonderful and yet sad story." She took a sip of her drink.

"Uncle Henry," Arian continued. "I do have one question. What was the bone case that the silk merchant gave to William?"

Henry stood up, walked over to the hearth and began stoking the fire. Flames began leaping up; its golden glow warming the room.

"We don't know," he finally said. "It was clearly very important or William would not have mentioned it in his journal. However it isn't mentioned again and despite extensive searches of the Murias Cottage, the Danann farm and Caer Danann we have never found the piece."

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The Aislings live deep in the mountains of New Hampshire and have had a lifelong interest and involvement in the magical Arts. They enjoy writing both non-fiction and fiction. Their non-fiction is carefully researched and draws from their lifetime of diverse experience. Their fiction is based on actual myths, legends and magical practices with just a touch of high fantasy and romance.

Please visit their blog for upcoming books: <http://rutyaisling.blogspot.com/> or at <http://www.facebook.com/ruty.aisling> especially if you are interested in becoming a beta-reader.
