Cast In Stone: A Cré-Witch Chronicles Prequel (The Cré-Witch Chronicles Book 0) by Sarah Hegger

Author:Sarah Hegger [Hegger, Sarah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-10-31T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

The closer they drew to the village, the more dead appeared to Maeve. Spirits hung in the air, still tethered to their bodies. In cases of many sudden deaths, spirits struggled to find their path from the mortal realm.

The children’s spirits were the worst. So many it broke her heart. They still wore their flesh incarnation and would soon discard that and become pure spirit, ageless, sexless, nationless, but for now they still looked like the poor babies they had so recently been.

From the burial fires, she drew her birth element. It moved sluggishly, dragging the weight of grief created by all the death. The dead turned to her, drawn by her kindred spirit.

“Mother Goddess, open the pathway,” she whispered the incantation.

The healer standing nearest her shivered. “It grows chilly.”

Maeve didn’t have the heart to tell the woman she was presently being crossed by a number of spirits. They released the shadow of their human forms in a shower of sparks and dissolved. The transfer from one state of being to another caused the cold sensation the healer felt.

Normally Maeve arrived when the healers had done all they could. They were rarely happy to see her.

For safety’s sake, the witches elected to stay in twos as they crept from home to home. Maeve stayed beside Sheila. Some villagers were surprised to see them, others so pathetically grateful, it brought tears to Maeve’s eyes.

Sheila worked tirelessly, helping one person and moving to the next, barely pausing long enough to take a sip of water. In her wake, people rested comfortably, taking the sleep of healing.

Watching Sheila and providing an extra pair of hands when she needed them, was a true revelation. Maeve stopped Sheila at a cottage door. The ghost of the recently departed young man hovered. Maeve shook her head at Sheila. “Not here.”

“Blast it!” Sheila took the loss as a personal affront but moved to the next cottage.

The situation in the village was so much worse than Maeve had guessed. She followed Sheila into another home.

An exhausted woman looked up as they came in. Three children lay in a bed to one side, their waxen complexions achingly familiar to Maeve.

The woman sobbed and stumbled when she saw Sheila. “Blessed.” She fell to her knees. “Please, Blessed, my children.”

“Your children will be seen to.” Sheila bent and helped the woman into the chair. “First, however, when did you last rest?”

The woman looked confused and wiped the back of her hand over her forehead. “I…not sure. The littlest one fell sick three nights ago, the rest shortly after.”

“You go.” Maeve motioned Sheila to help the children. The children would live. Maeve saw their spirits within their young, struggling bodies. It wasn’t their time. The kettle was hot, so she made the woman a cup of tea and brought her a bowl of the beef broth that had been simmering on the hearth. “You need to eat,” she said. “You’re no good to them if you collapse.”

The hope in the woman’s eyes almost crumpled Maeve.

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