Budding Magic

Budding Magic

  The O'Byrne Daughters - Book One

  L. S. Fayne

  Copyright 2009 by L. S. Fayne

  Publication by Fayne Artists

  ISBN-13: 978-1-60903-025-4

  To gain permission of content use, contact…

  Fayne Artists

  P.O. Box 210

  Tangent, OR 97389

  Web Address:

  https://www.fayneartists.com

  Some historic events are written into a fantasy forum. The author reserves the right to Freedom of Speech to express her views on some historic events. Any resemblance to person living or dead is purely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  From the Author

 

  BOOKS BY L. S. FAYNE

  19th Century Series: The O'Byrne Daughters

  Budding Magic: Book One

  It's Just Magic!: Book Two

  Gathering of the Raven: Book Three

  20th Century Series: Druantia's Children

  Christmas in the House of O'Byrne: Book One

  Druantia's Braids: Book Two

  There Can't Be Shadows Without Light: Book Three

  INTENDED AUDIENCE

  L. S. Fayne writes for adults fourteen and up.

  Return to Toc

  Chapter One

  June 1, 1838

  The bedroom was shadowed and quiet. Although Aine slept quietly, her dreams were filled with unsettled dread. These weren't new dreams. They had been repeating for the last three months. She woke feeling depressed. She rubbed her tummy—feeling the life within. The baby would be a girl—strong and smart. She would name her Haley, meaning ingenious one. She could perceive her avoiding most situations and settling others with skill as well as magic.

  When Aine thought about the magical aspects of her daughter's gifts, her vision was strangely fogged. She couldn't see the depths of their magic. This was rather strange—and worrisome—because Aine's strongest gift was the ability to discern gifts. That she couldn't do this for her own daughters was very disappointing, and had caused many sleepless nights.

  She had named all her daughters just days before they were born. Kellan had been the first. She would be strong, bold and would fight for what was right. Kellan was a term for a warrior princess. Aine smiled to herself. Kellan was living up to her name. She was only fourteen but was a natural leader. She definitely kept her sisters in line. She was not traditionally pretty, but her angular features were interesting. Her smile was wide and strong, her cheekbones high. Her dark brown hair emphasized her wide amethyst eyes. The villagers would say witches eyes.

  Then there was Alana and Dara, the twins. Both girls had flaming curly red hair, blue eyes and big grins. Both could be caught getting into mischief on a regular basis. The name Alana meant the bright fair one, and the name Dara meant one with wisdom and compassion. Usually, people were first drawn to Alana's bright, friendly face, but then tended to drift over to Dara for her kindness and compassion.

  Dara had an old soul—eye contact with Dara could be very disconcerting. She was so adult like that people found themselves talking to her about things that most children wouldn't understand. Dara seemed to always understand. The twins were thirteen and had very distinct personalities. Most people did not mistake one twin for the other once they got to know them. Dara, she knew, had sight similar to herself. It may or may not develop into being able to see into the future, but she definitely could see into things. There was also a hint which might manifest itself into true healing.

  Alana—Aine sighed resigned—would be the temptress of the family. She had that animal magnetism which would lure men. Aine didn't know of any temptresses who bode well—none who had found true love. Sometimes Alana seemed a little vague. Aine knew she was very smart, but sometimes it was hard to get her attention. She was quite a daydreamer.

  Rhoswen would be eleven in August. She and Kellan had the same coloring—dark hair and amethyst eyes—but Kellan looked hearty and strong, while Rhoswen looked very feminine and fragile. Aine knew that the fragility was very deceptive. Rhoswen was exceptionally strong. Of all the daughters, Rhoswen was the most spiritual and pure. Aine had spied Rhoswen walking with Druantia in the meadow.

  Goosebumps surfaced on Aine's arms just thinking about Druantia. Druantia was a Goddess and was known as the Queen of the Druids—she did not come to call on just anyone—that she visited directly with her eleven year old daughter was very unnerving. All of the O'Byrne's who carried magic would meet Druantia at least once in their lifetime. That time was during the initiation of their personal magic. The O'Byrne's line was directly descended from her.

  Druantia's blood literally flowed in all the O'Byrne's veins. They were her children. She watched out for them—sort of. A person had to be careful for what they asked of Druantia for it would always be on her terms. The archives read that she was the daughter of an elfin maid with some human blood—and an angel.

  Vevila was her fifth daughter. Vevila was only nine but was already on her way to becoming a vivacious, green eyed, auburn haired enchantress. She was a whirlwind of energy, and could sing as good as—and in her mother's eyes—better than the angels. Her voice was pure and delightful. It was a little early, but Aine believed that when magic came upon her, she would be able to trance big groups of people with that voice.

  Aine was most concerned about her sixth daughter—Kane. Just before Kane was born, Aine had visions of turbulence—of battles—even war. This daughter was in the middle of those dreams. The name Kane means the bringer of war. Kane was tall for her age, taller than Vevila, and the only daughter who had blond hair. She had intense, dark blue eyes which were typically stormy. She questioned everything. She did not take anything at face value.

  Kane was a little scrapper. She wouldn't back down if she felt she was in the right. Aine had been trying to teach her to see all the sides of a situation before jumping into it. Kane just wasn't interested. She would get mad and just want to hit someone. She also would not understand that life wasn't supposed to be fair. She went to great lengths to ensure that it was.

  Aine smiled nostalgically, Kane's one vanity was her hair. It was very fine, but there was a lot of it. Kane took scrupulous care of it, carefully brushing it out every night. It was the longest hair Aine had ever seen on an eight year old child. There had been many a night when mother and daughter spent time brushing out that tangled length.

  It was Kellan who was having the greatest influence over Kane. Kellan gave up trying to stop Kane from fighting and started teaching her strategy, that—Kane would listen to. The two spent hours talking about situational strategies. Some of their results were staggering. It was also interesting to note that in teaching her strategy, Kane was also learning about how the other side felt. Exactly what Aine had been trying to teach her. Aine noticed that Kane had stopped just jumping into the middle of things, and even sometimes changed her mind about getting involved at all.

  The baby decided to give Aine an enormous kick in the ribs. Aine suppressed the groan that would bring others into the room. Everyone seemed to want to hover over her. She knew t
hat it would do no good. She knew that this baby would be her last. She didn't have the strength, or the will power to survive this birth.

  Keegan—her husband of sixteen years—had died two months ago when a group of drunk young men tried to kill a feral sow. Keegan had been the love of her life. He had been so strong, and so vital. His hair had still been a vibrant dark brown. It hadn't had any white's or grays. His eyes were green except for the blue-green cast when he was excited or impassioned. He was not supposed to have left her so early in life! They still had so much to live for and to do!

  The drunken idiots chased the sow into the center of the village. Keegan ran out to grab one of the children from the path of the charging sow, at that moment—one of the drunken men threw a spear and pierced Keegan through the heart. Mandy, one of the village weavers said he was dead before he even hit the ground.

  Aine knew that was true. She saw the whole thing in her head. It repeated itself over and over again. What was worse was that the men weren't even sorry. They blamed the pig escaping on Keegan's interference. Two of them had the audacity to knock on the door two days later and demand compensation for the escaped pig! They said their families were hungry. Hell—all of Ireland was hungry! Aine wondered if anyone noticed that there were now two boars, and a sow running around loose. Aine would bet that none of the villagers would hunt them down for food—no matter how hungry their children got.

  The O'Byrne's had been here for as many generations as the village existed. The villagers knew what the purple eyes meant. There was power in this house. The fighting and slaughtering between the Irish and the English miraculously flowed around this prosperous little village—due to O'Byrne interference. The villagers dealt severely with any of its members who threatened that miraculous interference.

  For generations, O'Byrne magic had convinced others that this area only contained a derelict old farm house with an uninteresting castle which was in ruins. The land itself had spell centuries old which discouraged people from entering into its domain. For some reason people just didn't see the sweet pastures, or the lovely trees.

  Aine reflected that change was coming. The old spells would no longer protect the land or her people from the ravaging hunger. Death would follow the wake of hunger for years to come. They only had a few years to prepare for the survival of the village. A time was coming when even an old farm house would seem like a castle, and worse, some would be desperate enough to kill for. She was taking measures now to save all that she could. She fervently wished more could be saved—but could not perceive how. Her precious Ireland would never be the same again. The people, Irish or English, could not win this war.

  Caryn peeked around the door. Concern filled her when she noticed her sister's vague eyes. Her naturally vibrant red hair was faded out—much like the rest of her. Normally, her bright lilac eyes would laugh at everyone, as if she had a secret which the others couldn't fathom. Today they were gray and flat. Caryn had never seen them gray before, she was scared for her, but was even more scared that Aine seemed resigned to die.

  "So how is my baby sister doing today?" Caryn asked.

  "About the same as yesterday," Aine answered, "come in. We need to talk."

  "Not the dreary babble you spoke of yesterday, I hope," Caryn frowned at her.

  Aine closed her eyes and prayed for patience. Caryn's main gift was the ability to communicate with the animals. She had never been comfortable with Aine's gift of foresight, or even the spells learned at their mothers knee, especially the spells requiring life energy—blood energy.

  "The baby will be born tomorrow. Her name is Haley—Haley Caitlin O'Byrne." Aine told her. "I've left instructions concerning the girls."

  "You know that isn't necessary," Caryn protested.

  "Yes, it is!" Aine was irritated that Caryn just would not listen.

  Times were going to get hard—very hard. She glared at Caryn, but then relented seeing the fear in her eyes. She sighed, it wasn't Caryn's fault. Caryn hadn't developed the harsher gifts which could take a person over. She wasn't born with the telling eyes that others automatically judged as witch. She could have blended in with the village folk, but for some unfathomable reason, always stood by herself—always alone.

  She looked like the younger sister, Aine realized. Her beauty hadn't faded. She still had gorgeously fierce blue eyes, her dark brown hair glistened with red highlights—not the dreaded whites, her body was lithe and strong with high bosoms. She knew from experience that Caryn was a handful, a handful that her husband, Arlen was dedicated to handle.

  Just then Haley gave another swift kick under the ribs. Caryn saw the movement of the kick. Aine's face blanched and turned white. No wonder her sister was so out of sorts with that kind of movement going on. She walked over to the water pitcher, dampened a cloth, and pressed it against Aine's forehead.

  "Rae got here last night," Caryn assured her, "you and Haley will be fine."

  "I also sent for Terah," Aine told her bluntly, "I've hired her as a wet nurse, I don't have enough milk. She should be arriving this afternoon."

  Aine didn't bother to tell her sister that she had hired Terah on a prolonged contract. She knew what she knew, and had come to terms with it a long time ago. Terah was one of the cousins. She was around sixteen, and had recently had a baby girl. The father wasn't in the picture, and Terah was having a rough time raising the baby. She had assured Aine that she had plenty of milk, and was excited about living with this branch of the family. She didn't have any magical talents, but understood the magic. She should blend right in with the other girls. Aine hadn't told her that she didn't expect to live past the birth of her child.

  "Hi mama," Alana poked her head around the corner, "I've drawn a bath for you if you would like one. I've put in your favorite scent of lavender and vanilla."

  Caryn used the distraction to leave the room. Aine was so intense when talking about their future. It tended to get on her nerves.

  "That would be lovely," Aine smiled at Alana, "come in."

  Both Alana and Dara came into the room. Aine smiled at her girls. Where one was—the other would soon be too. Their normally bright, blue eyes were unusually somber. They smiled bravely, but Aine could see the pain and fear in the slope of their smiles. She felt sad that she couldn't comfort them. She quickly suppressed the tears forming in her eyes, and swung her feet over the side of the bed. They helped her to stand. She could no longer see her feet, and didn't bother to find her slippers. She didn't need her slippers anyway. The stone floor was warm due to the thermal system embedded in the rock foundation.

  Dara was disturbed by how frail her mother felt. She was thirty-two. Not old by O'Byrne reckoning, but maybe a little too old to still be baring children.

  :She feels wrong,: Alana sent to Dara.

  :I know,: Dara sent back, :Papa's death damaged her. Her life energy is really flat.:

  They carefully led Aine into the bathing room.

  The bathing room had running water, a courtesy from Aine and Caryn's grandfather, the ever adventuring James Caidance O'Byrne. There was even a portrait of him over the fireplace mantle. Maybe if he hadn't been out adventuring, Aine thought, his daughter wouldn't have become such a terror.

  A large claw-foot bathtub sat proudly in the middle of the room. It was filled with hot fragrant water. The toilet sat in the corner protected by a wooden barrier. It had continuous running water—which could be a little distracting for first time users. The twins preferred the bath house. It had a huge thermally warmed pool which could hold all the girls at the same time.

  "Thank you sweeties," Aine said to them while she climbed into the hot steamy water,, "I'll call you when I need help out."

  "Here's a towel," Dara hesitated, "make sure you call out when you're ready, do not climb out on your own!"

  Normally, Alana would be scolding her sister about now for being so bossy. Aine was surprised to see her nodding instead. She gave them the look. She had to laugh as they gave her
the look right back. Alana handed her the washing cloth which had slipped onto the floor.

  Aine was shocked to see four distinct bruises outlining a pattern into her arm. She caught her arm and carefully turned it over, there was the fifth bruise—the bruise of a thumb. There was also a crescent shaped cut. So, Aine thought, Caryn still kept her thumb nail sharpened. She checked the cut to see if there was any curse attached by accident, or design. There was none. Caryn probably hadn't even known that she had cut her.

  "What happened?" She asked angrily.

  Alana and Dara were silent for a minute. They knew there was no point in avoiding the question. It was a sign of their mother's frailty that she even had to ask.

  "Aunt Caryn became angry because Cally-cat was sitting on the cook table." Alana began hesitantly. "She told me to take him outside. I told her that Cally was a magi-cat, and would just end up right back on the table. She grabbed my arm and stressed that I was to take the cat outside."

  "She didn't know that Cally was magic?" Aine asked.

  "Didn't seem to," Alana said quietly. "I'm sorry mama. I should just have done what she asked."

  "Oh baby," Aine held her face, "never do what you think is stupid or wrong! No matter who is doing the telling! It was wrong of her to not listen to you about Cally, and it was wrong of her to grab you as such—understand?"

  "We understand mama," Dara reached out to caress her hand. "We just didn't particularly want to choose that battle to fight. So much is going on right now."

  "No don't," Alana pulled away as she felt her mama's healing touch. "It will heal on its own. Have a pleasant bath, mama."

  "Call when you're finished," Dara re-emphasized.

  They waited until she was fully submerged in the tub before leaving. Aine thought about what Dara had said about choosing their battles. Maybe it didn't concern them too much about Caryn's bullying, but it concerned her greatly. She was leaving her precious daughters into her care. She frowned thoughtfully.

  "Tread softly in my daughters spheres," She deftly pricked her finger with her sharpened thumb nail and let the blood drip into the water, "or be threefold so damaged."

  She watched as the blood drops merged with the water, and were carried away to the world outside. She was very tired, but vastly satisfied with her curse. She would have liked it to have had more flair, but it would do.

  She sighed with pleasure. The water felt so good. It felt marvelous to get the panic sweat off her. She tried to just let her mind drift, but ended up crying instead. She did not want to abandon her girls, but knew that no matter what she did—this was her time.

  :They will be okay you know,: a voice told her from across the room.

  "I know," she answered sadly, "I can see them. They are going to have one hell of a ride. It's a time of change. You either change—or you die."

  :Is that what happened?: Keegan asked.

  "No such thing," Aine snapped at him, "you were taken before your time—by the choice and free will of another."

  :Those little piggies look pretty good running around out there. My compliments,: he reached his hand into the water. It stirred just a little. :Who were those murdering scum anyway?:

  "One was the Earl's son," Aine frowned, "The other two were homeless Irishmen. I don't know why the boy would be hanging out with the likes of them. We do what we can to help the displaced, but it is not for them to take out their frustrations and disappointments on others, especially those trying to help!"

  :And which two came knocking?: he asked.

  "The Irish," she answered, "too bad for them."

  She could hear him laughing. He would never have laughed about this while he was alive. Being dead must bring out the humor in a person.

  "I'll be meeting with Lord Jaspin this afternoon. If he chooses to ignore our words—he and this village will lose everything. We can't save Ireland," Aine said sadly.

  :The second rule is freedom to make a choice,: he said ironically—considering why he was hovering there, :the rules of spirit.:

  He was referring to the belief that the sole purpose of living this life was the choices which are made. If choice isn't a freedom, then how will anyone be judged by the choices they make? So a rule would have to be the freedom to choose. The first rule is to not mess with anyone else's spiritual beliefs—hinder not.

  "I hate to think of how I'll be judged. I just made a pig out of an ass." She could hear him laughing as he faded out of the room.

  He was the reason why she would be able to endure the next day and a half. He would be right here waiting for her. She decided to get on out before she became gloomy again.

  "I'm ready," she said quietly. Sure enough the twins popped into the room. She thought they had been listening in on her conversation, she grinned at them—they paused in thought.

  "You were talking to papa weren't you?" Dara asked boldly.

  "I could have. Does that surprise you?" Aine asked.

  "We remember you talking to Grandma Tess, and smelling her perfume afterwards," Alana explained.

  "Is he okay and everything?" Dara asked.

  "He's okay, seems to have developed a sense of humor," Aine smiled and held out her arms. Dara stood to her left, while Alana stood on her right. They braced as she carefully pulled herself up by pulling on their arms.

  "You're getting a lot stronger," Aine commented.

  "We have too—to lug you around," Alana told her. Just then, little Haley gave a swift kick. Alana started in surprise.

  "Meet your little sister, Haley," Aine introduced them.