With my satchel packed and the spell book in tow, I make for the western woods. A demon awaits my summoning.
Chapter Five
Emeline
I’ve not been naked in front of anyone but Leed. Yet, here I am, kneeling in the western woods, nude, with blood on my palm and a freshly drawn binding circle before me.
The black and white outline of The Horseman stares back at me from its page in the spell book. I’ve talked myself in and out of summoning him twice already. Slit my palm both times before yanking it away from the circle.
I chose him for his less menacing presence and his semi-comforting description.Deliverer of punishments.Bringer of swift death on hoof and wind. I know more than a few who are in need of punishments. Death would befit their crimes. With The Horseman, I’ll have the ability to command death without enacting it myself.
The spell is simple enough. Maybe too simple. This better be a real spell. I can’t stop shivering. One of the requirements of the spell is to be naked upon summoning. And so, I am freezing my butt off out here. It’s far too reminiscent of the stories of virginsbeing sacrificed to gods. I’m no virgin, thanks to Leed. I hope that wasn’t necessary to summon this particular entity.
I lay out the ingredients requested and raise the dagger to my palm once more. Slicing across my open wound for a third time hurts even worse than the two before. This time, I won’t allow fear to stop me from completing the casting.
Squeezing my wounded hand into a fist, I allow the blood the drip into the center of the circle of salt.
“Arise, Horseman.” My voice cracks. I clear my throat, starting again. “Arise, Horseman. Bringer of death. Come forth from words and sinful breath. Hoof and hollow, swiftly ride. Give evil no more place to hide. Punish those who’ve done wrong to me. A bargain I’ll make, to set you free.”
The final word leaves my lips. I hold my breath. Nothing happens. What did I do wrong? The blood, the herbs, the spell. I scour the page for anything I’ve missed. In small print, scrawled across the bottom of the page, a single line reads, ‘Offer The Horseman a gift.’
A gift? A gift of what? Are the spell ingredients not enough? I’ve already given blood. Looking around, I seek something to offer. All I see are trees and fallen leaves. I wear no jewelry but the protective amulet and my ring from Leed. I am not foolish enough to offer that up the amulet. I could offer the engagement ring. But what value will The Horseman find in an offering I no longer care for? I have nothing else. No gift.
I sit, shivering, pondering my options. Clarity pummels through my fear-muddled thoughts.Gift.
Words I’ve heard my entire life echo through my thoughts.You’ve been gifted a beautiful voice. Sing, Emeline, share your gift with the world.God has granted you the gift of song.But to be gifted and to give a gift…are they one and the same?
I clear my throat again. I highly doubt this will work, but I have nothing else to offer.
“When lost in the meadow, on hilltops so green,
Ran past me a fellow, his eyes all agleam,
With skin all that sparkled
And clothes full and bright.
He warned me to find my way home before night.
Too small for a human,
With ears pointed tall,
Within a small circle of mushrooms did fall.
The last thing I noticed, most curious of things,
Upon his small backwere a pair of clear wings.”
I don’t know why that song came to mind. Fairy tales became unofficially banned by the church when I was a child. Before they were, my mother would sing me that song as we collected wildflowers.
The spiral of smoke rising from the center of the circle is my first hint that something has changed. The runes I’ve drawn around the border glow. Dirt disappears as each symbol is carved deep into the ground by an invisible force. Light beams upward, illuminating the woods.
Heat spills outward as twin blue flames twist together, shooting skyward like a serpent and consuming the center of the circle. Sweat beads across my bare body. I scream as a series of intricate markings are slashed into my forearm.
A sudden knocking sounds, thumping through the forest, as if someone is pounding from beneath the ground itself. My bones are rattled as the forest floor shakes.
Wind wuthers past me, tearing through the trees and shaking loose a mass of autumn leaves. They rain down around me in a blinding sea of orange and yellow. I shield my eyes as the wind blows harder. The entire mass of my waist-length hair whips around me, stealing my sight.
