The Blessing of Equinox

  The Blessing of Equinox

  by Kathryn Reynolds

  Copyright 2020 Kathryn Reynolds All Rights Reserved

  Cover by Xero Reynolds

  Edited by Jennifer Bolton

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, trademarked products, events, and locations are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual events or persons, living or dead, are entirely coincidental.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review or scholarly journal.

  Chronological Order of the Fae Realm Novels

  Shadows of the Seasons - coming May 2020

  The Mantle of Autumn

  The White Witch Trilogy:

  The Blessing of Equinox

  Trial and Title - coming Summer of 2020

  The Blessing of Equinox

  by Kathryn Reynolds

  This book is dedicated to my great-grandma, who taught me kindness, patience, and love in all things. Love you grammy. You’re always in my heart.

  As always, a second dedication to Xero Reynolds, my husband, and the love of my life, for his constant love and support.

  Thank you to Jennie Bolton for your amazing editing work and a big heart-felt thank you to my Autumn Forest beta reader group. They all helped propel my motivation into overdrive and spur me to new heights with this book!

  Chapter 1

  The cottage sat alone deep within the woods, a lazy trail of smoke rising slowly from its chimney. Beds of flowers lined the little home, early spring tulips in full bloom despite the remnants of snow still covering the ground. The chickens were already snug in their coop, and the goats gathered under a lean-to on a warm bed of hay.

  The brilliant setting sun cast the hidden cottage in deep shadow as Marsilia approached. She breathed in deep the scent of home - of woodsmoke and roasting fish, animals and flowers, pine and snow. Shifting the covered basket on her arm, she made her way up the path, tucking a loose lock of blonde hair back under her hood.

  A cold nose snuffled at her hand and she patted the beast’s head, looking down. The massive dog at her side stared back up at her with glowing red eyes amongst a thick coat of scraggly black fur. It’s gargantuan jaws parted and panted happily.

  “Yes,” she said, scritching behind its ear. “I’m home, Shuck. Now don’t you give me that look, I know pa fed you.”

  The monstrous dog’s ears lowered and it whined pitifully, but she chuckled and left the dog outside as she went in to the cottage. It was a simple affair. A few tables and shelves lined the walls, stacked with vials and dried herbs. A great cooking fire sat in the middle of the room with a bench to one side and a stool to the other. A griddle hung over the flames, and two fish sizzled and popped in the heat.

  Marsilia glanced around, and not seeing anyone, put her basket aside and removed her gloves before sneaking forward. As she leaned over to steal a piece of crisped skin from one of the fish, a voice cleared its throat behind her.

  “Aww, just a taste, Pa!” she sighed, turning around.

  A black cat slinked from the shadows, and as it stepped into the light, grew larger and larger, until an old man stood before her. His face was cragged and wrinkled, but his hair remained as black as the beast he had just been. Fur-covered ears protruded from the sides of his head and goat hooves stuck out from the ends of his rough woolen pants.

  “It isn’t done yet, daughter,” he answered, his voice deep and gravely. “You’ll get sick.”

  Sighing dramatically, the young woman chuckled and gave him a hug. “Fine, fine.”

  Returning the hug, the old half-man held her out at arms’ length, looking her over. “You’re late getting back. Did you have any trouble on the road?”

  “No,” she answered, smiling at his concern. “One of the dryads had gotten caught in a hunter’s trap. I was sent for to free her and tend her leg.”

  The pooka frowned, glancing towards the closed shutters as a rumble of concern sounded deep within his chest. “The humans draw closer every year,” he sighed.

  “All the more reason for us to stay here, so we can help the fae they harm,” Marsilia said, reaching over to squeeze his shoulder.

  He nodded and patted her hand. “Go on; go get cleaned up. Dinner will be ready soon.”

  “Alright, Pa,” she answered, heading to her room at the back of the cottage.

  Her room was a late addition to the cottage, tacked on when Eudon, the pooka, adopted her. Of course, to her, he was just ‘Pa’. Like the main cabin, it was a simple affair. A fresh pile of straw covered with rough wool blankets served as her bed, and the few dresses she had adorned pegs along the wall. A shelf was stacked with her few other precious belongings, including her most prized possession.

  Hanging her cloak on one of the free pegs, she lifted the silvered hand mirror to look herself over. The image was mildly distorted in the imperfect surface, but to have a mirror of her very own... It had been a gift of payment from a wild elf for setting his broken arm after a horse threw him. Only nobles ever had such fine possessions, and she treasured the gift.

  Removing her linen hood, she gave her wavy blonde hair a shake to loosen it from the day’s wear. Her blue eyes took in her own reflection, the smudges of ground herbs upon her cheek, the dust and dirt from travel upon her brow and neck. Grimacing at the mess, she carefully put the mirror back on its shelf before stripping off her black cotehardie and giving it a firm shake to dislodge the leaves and dirt.

  Taking up a clean rag, she dipped it into the bucket of water in the corner and quickly wiped herself down before selecting a cleaner dress and making herself presentable again. As she returned to the main room, her pooka was unloading her basket on one of the tables. Vials - some empty, some yet full - were precisely arranged. Bundles of herbs were hung back on the wall, and a neatly wrapped loaf of bread was set to the side - payment from the brownies to whom she had given cough medicine.

  “Grab the plates,” Eudon called over his shoulder. “I’ll fetch some ale.”

  They settled in to their meal of boiled onions and apples, roasted fish and fresh bread. He asked her of those she had tended that day, and she took great joy in telling him. As he himself was a healer, he raised her to be so as well, and beamed with pride at her tales.

  The night grew late, the fire burned low, and Marsilia was just about to turn in for bed when a knock came upon the door. There had been no warning growl or bark from Shuck, so Eudon went to the door and opened it without hesitation.

  Two little fairies stood just outside, and between them another hung limply.

  “Oh dear,” Eudon said, kneeling down. “What has happened?”

  Frowning, Marsilia came to stand behind him as the little summer fairies looked up at them with tears in their eyes.

  “We don’t know,” one of them said. “We had just come from the Fae Realm, coming to bring more flowers, and, and…”

  “Some sort of dark energy hit Corcc and he just fell out of the sky!” the other exclaimed, her tiny voice squeaking in distress. “We couldn’t even see where it came from!”

  “Oh deary-dear,” Eudon said gently, holding out his hands to them. “Let
us see the little one.”

  They laid the fallen fairy in his hands and he stood, turning to let Marsilia look at the little creature as well.

  “Hey!” the first fairy said in alarm. “What is a human doing here? This is supposed to be a fae healer’s house!”

  “She is my daughter,” Eudon answered, looking back over his shoulder at them. There was no indignation or annoyance in his deep voice, rather a simple statement of fact. “Will this be a problem, or do you want us to tend to your friend? She has been well trained.”

  The two fairies shifted nervously, glancing between each other, before finally nodding for them to go ahead. As Eudon took the little one to one of their work tables, Marsilia ushered the other two in. Shuck came up to the door, whining once, then laid down across the threshold. He was always such a good protector.

  “Hmm,” Eudon rumbled deep in his chest as she stepped up beside him.

  Looking over the listless fairy, Marsilia frowned. Its eyes lay half shut as if dead, but a slow breath rose in its chest. Thin black veins lined its mouth and wings and she took a sharp breath in. While she had never seen this in person before, her pa had told her of such matters - evil magics wielded by twisted, corrupted humans.

  “Dark witchcraft,” the pooka growled the words low and slow before turning back to the two waiting fairies. “They have stolen your friend’s magic.”

  One of the two fairies immediately looked at Marsilia with both fear and anger. “Was it you?” the fairy squeaked.

  “She is a healer,” Eudon said, the gentle rumble of his voice giving way to anger at the insult. “A white witch. Do not accuse my daughter of—”

  “Sorry! We’re sorry!” the other fairy exclaimed, shoving its companion back. “Tell her you’re sorry!”

  “I’m sorry!” the fairy said, eyes wide.

  Eudon let forth another rumble, quieter, not as threatening, and looked to Marsilia.

  “It’s fine, Pa,” she sighed. “They’re just scared.”

  Nodding, the pooka turned back to the limp fairy. “Fetch some rosemary and lavender, Marsilia. We cannot restore the little one’s magic, but we can keep it alive until they can get it home to their queen.”

  “Yes, Pa,” she said, turning toward the shelves, but drawing up short.

  A low growl emerged from the darkness at the front door. All eyes turned to the sound as Shuck began to slowly back into the room, snarling in warning, his tail tucked between his legs. The hackles along his back stood up and his ears laid flat.

  In the shadowed night pooling like ink beyond the door, something dark and unsettling spoke, hissed words in an ancient, foreign language, and the fire and candles illuminating the room snuffed out in a whisper of smoke.

  Chapter 2

  There was no other warning. All light in the main room of their tiny cottage was extinguished and a breath later, dark energy raged through the door, casting stark shadows. Marsilia was at Eudon’s side in an instant, chanting in unison with him.

  “Wedi mynd yn ddrwg, i ffwrdd o'n cartref! Rydyn ni'n eich gwahardd chi o'n golwg ac yn eich tynnu chi o rym!"

  Their voices rang through the room, one high and one low. The tongue was still foreign to her, but he had trained her well, and she poured every ounce of her will into the spell of protection.

  The two little fairies let out screams of pain and terror and collapsed, black veins appearing around their mouths, their wings. Marsilia continued to chant, even as she watched in horror as a golden light was pulled from the two fairies’ mouths and floated listlessly towards the darkness outside.

  Beside her, Eudon dropped to one knee, fists clenched at his side as he continued the chant, unwavering. Tears brimmed in Marsilia’s eyes as she pushed even more of herself into the spell, her hands balling into fists around handfuls of her skirts. Shuck let forth a snarl and leapt forward into the darkness. A yelp, and he was silent.

  Tears streamed down her cheeks as her pa collapsed forward to the ground and faint green energy began to seep out of him, drifting towards the door.

  “No!” Marsilia screamed, dropping her attempts at the spell and running back to her room. Snatching her crossbow from the corner, she fumbled out a bolt and raced back to the front door, struggling to load the weapon as she ran.

  As she raised the crossbow to take aim, only the empty garden lay before her. Panting, her gaze darted around in the darkness, seeking the dark being.

  “A human,” the hissing voice curled from within every shadow. Marsilia whipped her crossbow around from source to source, unable to find even a glimmer of the dark witch. “How unexpected…”

  The shadow shifted near where her poor Shuck lay, just barely perceptible, and Marsilia fired. A glimmer of satisfaction flashed through her as the bolt hit home with a sickening thump.

  A shriek pierced her head in a wave of agony and the crossbow fell from her hands as she dropped to her knees, covering her ears. Even still, she watched as the shadow flitted into the shape of a woman and then dashed away into the darkness of the forest beyond. As the evil creature vanished, the extinguished flames behind Marsilia flickered back to life.

  Giving one last look to her poor protector Shuck, she turned back to the cabin and darted to Eudon’s side. Turning him over, she choked on a sob. His chest rose in the slow, steady rhythm of sleep, but his eyes stared vacantly ahead, half-lidded. Black veins showed grotesquely around his eyes and mouth, along his hands.

  Laying her forehead against his, Marsilia whispered. “I’ll fix this, Pa. I don’t know how, but I promise, I’ll fix this.”

  * * *

  “Just let me pay ye and be on my way,” Fjell sighed. “I don’t want myself further indentured to a damned hedge witch.”

  The elderly witch gave him a tart look as she continued putting vials away. “And you don’t have anything with which to pay me that I want - for now. If you weren’t ready to exchange a later service, you shouldn’t have come to me for healing. You know my rules, dwarf.”

  Fjell sighed again, letting his head drop as he clasped his hands before him. Infuriating human witches. He sat in one of the back rooms of her cabin upon a finely carved bench, a bandage wrapped around his upper thigh. He ran a hand back through hair as red as flame, then scratched at his long beard.

  The room, like the rest of the cabin, was filled with fine furniture, gilded candlesticks, thick wools and furs. The witch Rohesia had long ago stopped taking traditional payments for her service to the fae races. She had all the comforts she already wanted, and so instead asked service and favor.

  “Aye, fine,” he finally sighed. “What’s done is done. I’ll owe ye a favor - but I have the right to say no if ye go against my morals.”

  The witch turned back to him with a smile. She had been a beauty in her youth and still held glimmers of that even as plumped and white-haired as she was now. “Done,” she said and he felt the binds of a magical contract seep into the fiber of his being.

  A moment of panic shifted through him, but before he could say another word, a knock came at the heavy front door of the cabin. The witch turned and left, and he slowly stood to follow.

  “Dear child!” he heard her exclaim from the next room. “What has happened?”

  The door shut behind the witch just as he came out of the back room, ducking under the doorframe. Picking up his axe from where he left it on the table, he slid it into his belt and made his way over to a window. He drew back the edge of a curtain and peeked out.

  The elderly witch was checking over a slender young woman. Her wavy blonde hair stuck out in every direction from beneath her hood of fine linen, pale blue on the outside and folded back to reveal stark white on the lining. She was clad in a simple but well-made cotehardie dress of black linen that clung to lithe her frame. But it was her face that drew his attention. A strong jaw, high cheeks and petal-pink lips faded under the sorrow in her large blue eyes, and the tears that streamed anew down her cheeks.

  A cart rested behind h
er, the contents covered in thick, rough woolen blankets. Two goats were attached to the front, but there was no way they could have moved that cart on their own. Two lengths of rope, looped back on themselves, hung between the goats. Looking back, Fjell drew in a sharp breath of surprise. Though her dress was black, he could see the wearing of the ropes where she had looped them over her shoulders and around her chest.

  Something truly terrible had happened.

  Rohesia suddenly looked back and he couldn’t get clear of the window before she saw him.

  “Fjell!” the old witch called. “Fjell, come help me bring these people inside.”

  Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, the dwarf opened the door and ducked outside, standing tall. “Will this satisfy our debt?” he asked, avoiding the weeping girl’s gaze.

  The witch stepped up to him with such rage that he took a step back. “You damned selfish arrogant bastard,” she growled. “This girl dragged her father’s listless body here by her own strength and you ask if helping him inside will settle our debt? You speak of your morals then ask me that?”

  Fjell felt the blood drain from his face and he finally glanced over, meeting the young woman’s eyes as he towered over them both. Her anguish and exhaustion were so evident he immediately averted his eyes.

  “Sorry,” he muttered and went to the cart.

  Flipping back the blankets, he froze. Five bodies lay in the cart, none of them human. Brow furrowing in confusion, he darted a glance back to the two women only to find the elderly witch comforting the young woman and leading her inside.

  “What mischief and trickery is this?” he muttered.

  Stacking the demon dog atop the pooka, and then the three fairies atop the dog, he lifted the entire load with little effort and followed the women inside.

  Chapter 3

  Arranging the five fae on the floor, Fjell frowned and listened to the two women talk. It was obvious they had been attacked by some sort of dark magic, but it was surprising they all five yet lived. The dark veins that each showed unnerved him and he stood, turning to the two women as Rohesia handed the girl a cup of tea.