Page 98 of The Daughters of Avalon
She would need plenty of space to draw herself a proper pentacle—one aligned to her own affinities, and the reason for that might prove difficult to explain, and perhaps more difficult to comprehend. There were four main elements—five altogether—and each shared a quality with two more elements.
For example, since Rosalynde was aligned to water, water was moist like air, warm like fire, but it had naught in common with earth. Therefore, all things related to the earth element lay outside Rosalynde’s affinity.
To make matters more complicated, there was a fifth element, better known to her people as thequintessence.Borne of the spirit, this element was perfect in nature, and therefore, difficult to manipulate. But, if one did not have an affinity bordering on thequintessence,one could not castaetherspells. And regardless, only adewinewith a primary to theaethercould hope to master all five. Rhiannon was such adewine. Like their grandmamau, she bore the Mark of the Mother—those crossed, amber-lit eyes that distinguished her as a regnant priestess—a point of contention that Morwen had long bemoaned. No matter how powerful their mother might be, or how finely honed hergifts, she would never truly master all five elements, as Rhi could.
And yet, Morwen did have one thing going for her that the sisters did not. She dabbled with bloodmagik—stronghud duthat neither she nor her sisters would ever have the gumption to consider. Cast with sacrificialmagik, itwas dangerous business, and a blasphemy to the Goddess.
And nevertheless, used improperly, even whitemagikcould be risky. There could be no escaping the Law of Three, which dictated that allmagik, good or bad, once unleashed into the world must return to the summoner threefold.Nothingoccurred without consequence. It was the law of nature. For common folk consequence was no less a veracity, but for adewine, whosemagikmight alter the will of gods, the consequences were more severe.
Black or white, there was a price to be paid formagik, and one single conjuring, no matter how well intentioned, could change the fate of nations and end innocent lives.
Alas,magikwas not to be avoided—not today.
Realizing there was no possible way she could draw a pentagram large enough to include the horse, nor could she compel the beast to stay within its bounds, she hobbled the mare nearby, so she could keep an eye on it, yet far enough that her hooves wouldn’t disturb the diagram.
Once the mare was settled, she found a sharp stick and began, as best she could amidst so much bracken, to draw her diagram precisely as she recalled, beginning with the earth affinity for a banishing spell.
Here again, the reasons were complicated. But while she had no true affinity to earth itself, the point at where she began to draw also had a bearing on the form of hermagik.
Over these past months, she’d learned so much from the Book of Secrets, and there were essentially two types of spells tobe cast: All things were either summoned or banished, accepted or denied, created or destroyed, transformed or reformed. Each of these fell under one of two elements:aetheror earth—else, as the common folk would say, all things were under the dominion of heaven or earth.
A protection spell was in essence a banishing spell, meant to repel. Therefore, she should begin drawing her pentacle with the earth affinity at the southernmost point, because it was also her divergent affinity, then up to the west, toaether, across to the east, to fire, across again, to air, and up to the vertex, water, always her true north.
On the other hand, to cast a summoning spell, she would have begun drawing in the opposite direction, beginning withaether, but still keeping her divergent affinity at the southernmost point.
And, regardless of how she began to draw, she must always end with water at her vertex, with the properly drawn symbol, leaving her most vulnerable ingress at her feet.
Conversely, if she were to draw her pentagram with the earth symbol at its apex, it would give her no benefit.
Or, if she made the mistake of choosing theaetherto place at the vertex—a very common mistake, considering thequintessencewas, after all, the most powerful of the elements—it would still leave her defenseless.
On the other hand, for someone like Rhi, whose primary wasaether, she would always complete her pentacle withaetherat her vertex, and water as her divergent, though, in truth, Rhiannon had no weaknesses, and once she mastered the Craft, she would be a maven of all the elements.
Alas, only adewinealigned to fire did not havesomemastery over theaether, and this would be the case with Arwyn. So much as Arwyn hadn’t any issue with the Craft, the Craft did not love her back. She could summon a flame easily enough,but she could do little more than that. And to make matters worse, her affinity was weak and Rosalynde often feared she had somehow leeched her sister’s share ofmagikin the womb. After all, it could easily happen. On the death of her twin in the womb, Rhiannon had receivedallher twin’s gifts—Welshmagik, powerful enough for twodewinebabes.
Regardless, elementalmagikwas complicated, essential knowledge for adewine. Though simply because onedewinecould manipulate elements, did not mean alldewinesshared the ability; the Craft was specific to everyone. If Rosalynde were like Arwyn, whose affinities were lacking, she might concentrate on thehudwhere it enriched her… perhaps alchemy, divination, or charming.
At last, when her diagram was finished, Rosalynde attended to other matters. As soon as she could, she would ward her pentagram with a banishing spell, but in the meantime, she needed to see to the mare. At this late hour, it wouldn’t behoove her to search for a burn, so she pooled her hands together, concentrating on her primary.
Already, there were particles of water in the air, and herdewinesenses could feel them. It was no more fantastical a feat than to lure these particles together, like a lodestone with metal. And yet, no matter how many times she performed the feat, it never ceased to amaze her.
After an instant, her palm began to glisten, then fill before her eyes, and she lifted her hands to the animal’s shining black lips, all the while listening to her belly grumble. There was no time for food tonight, and it wouldn’t be the first time she’d gone to bed without supping.
“I wonder what your name is,” she said to the mare. “You are so beautiful.” And she was. Shining black as the deepest night, she would hide very conveniently amidst the brush. And, if, by chance, some predator came near, she felt certain the marewould warn her. “Won’t you?” She said, stroking the sweet girl’s cheek.
Rosalynde was thirsty, as well, but so long as the mare kept drinking, she kept pulling water from the air, filling her palm, knowing that once she cozied into her pentacle, she wouldn’t be able to leave it again. At last, the animal seemed quenched, freeing Rosalynde to tend to her own needs. And when she was ready, she retrieved hergrimoirefrom the saddlebag and knelt before the Book in the center of her diagram. She retrieved the pin she’d hidden in the hem of her skirt, pricked the tip of her finger, squeezed a few droplets of bright red onto the vellum, and once again, it vanished. Rosalynde spoke the rites to open the book, then settled in to read, ignoring the persistent grumbling of her belly.
By now, she was famished, though not enough to go foraging and risk being discovered by her mother. There were far more important matters to consider.
Skimming the pages quickly, she settled on a fire spell, and put the book down. Closing her eyes to harness the power of the emerging moonlight, she laid both palms above the facing pages until a veil of blue illumined the words. Reading aloud, she whispered…
Goddess of light shield me tonight.
Ye who would harm, ye who would maim,
Proceed and face the same.
A band of firelight burst at the edges of her pentagram, burning low, then diminishing. Startled, Rosalynde nevertheless continued:
