Free Song of the Ancients (Ancient Magic Book 1) by Sandy Wright Page A

through the cornfields across the road from our house; catching frogs in the pond behind the barn, ankle-deep in mud; my mother laughing and splashing us with water, even though she'd be washing dirty clothes the entire next day.
    Kamaria began a chant to thank the deities and spirit-guides who would aid us in our working, and protect us from any darker entities who might try to enter our space during the séance.
    Standing Bear added his own low chant. I felt it vibrate from his fingertips up through my own and into my chest. Without conscious effort, I began to chant.
    "Send out loving thoughts to Nancy's spirit, narrow them to a path of bright, shimmering light to guide her to our side," Kamaria reminded us. "Envelop her in loving remembrance, and hold tight to her messages, so you can share them with us afterwards."
    I focused all my thoughts on my mother's face and on her love for me. I no longer smelled the incense burning in the room. Instead, I smelled garden earth, dark and rich, and the sweet scent of rose, which had always bloomed in Mother's garden.
    The temperature in the room dropped and a faint breeze stirred the hair on the back of my head.
    "Who is in the room?" Kamaria asked quietly.
    I heard scratching on the tabletop and opened my eyes. Her name, "Nancy," appeared on the paper. I widened my eyes at Kamaria in excitement, but she shook her head in warning and asked, "Nancy who?"
    Quivering slightly above the paper, the pencil scratched out a cursive capital 'C'.
    I nodded at Kamaria. "It's Mom." I recognized the familiar flourish in her script.
    "Do you wish to speak with us?" Kamaria asked. The upside-down jar moved over the cloth word 'yes'.
    Suddenly the log in the fireplace flared and went out.
    I heard the pencil scratching again, but couldn't make out the words in the flickering candlelight. Another chill breeze blew straight across the table, sweeping the paper onto the floor and snuffing out the candles. We sat in complete darkness, waiting for more.
    Nothing. Mother was gone.
    Kamaria rose and went to the cabin door. She opened it and closed it firmly, physically saying goodbye to the spirit, making the sign of the triple cross in the air in front of her.
    Standing Bear went to the lamp by the sofa and turned it on, bathing the room in soft yellow light. We looked at each other wordlessly.
    The paper lay on the floor, upside down. Its message hidden. I walked over and picked it up. With a strangled cry, I let the message flutter from my hand:
    'He will make you his
    Or see you dead
    For the power,
    Before the Blood Moon.'
    * * * * *
    Kamaria and Standing Bear watched me with worried eyes. I paced back and forth in the cabin.
    "Who would want you dead?" Kamaria asked.
    "I have no idea!" I snapped. "I don't know people here well enough for them to want to kill me." My mind brought up Nicholas with a guilty start. But why? Why would he wish me harm? My mind ran circles with the thought, a dog chasing its tail.
    Standing Bear had been quiet for some time. He came over and took my hands, leading me to the leather sofa and pushing me onto the soft cushions. He disappeared into the kitchen and returned with three icy bottles of beer. Pulling a dining room chair in front of me, he straddled it, his long, paint-stained hands hanging loose over the rail back, holding his bottle by the neck.
    "This is what I think," he told me gently. "Your mother is worried about you and has made the supreme effort—twice—to warn you. It takes as much effort for a spirit to manifest itself to the living as it does for the living to receive them on this side." He paused as if to gather his thoughts. "But think about what she said, how she said it. If she was simply warning you, wouldn't she have spoken directly: 'Someone's trying to kill you? Leave!' She didn't."
    I looked at him with tears in my eyes. "What do you think she meant to say?"
    "I believe she wants you to prevent someone from doing something—whatever this