Free A Spell for the Revolution by C. C. Finlay Page B
Authors: C. C. Finlay
his tracks. A bit angrily, he said, “That’s a lot of extra work for me, just to fix that.”
Deborah turned her head away to hide how upset she was. “She led me by the bridle, right where she wanted me to go.”
“Is that so bad? She studied with your mother—”
It was the wrong thing to say. The scattered stones rose from the mud and hovered in the air.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly.
The stones thudded to the ground. The big sow walked over to one and rooted through the mud, turning it over with her nose to see if it was worth eating.
“You’ve grown powerful this year,” he said. He knew that she practiced every day, always pushing herself. But it was a different thing to see her use that power.
Her head sagged. “I’m afraid it’s not enough.”
“You can only do so much.”
“I have to do more.” Her head came up. “The widow—she cast a spell that stretched all the way around Boston,making all the militiamen ill. She was going to place a curse on an entire army. And she said that her master was more powerful than that. How do I fight that? Come on.”
She led him to the cornfield, where she started pulling husks from the ears and tying them in knots.
“You don’t have to fight it alone, for one thing,” he said. “I’m glad you’re coming with me. What are you doing?”
She held up a little doll, made from the corn leaves. “This Bootzamon creature is out there, looking for us. When you and I leave, I’m going to make him think we’ve all left. If he thinks The Farm is abandoned, he’ll follow us.”
Proctor whistled appreciatively. “That’s better than what I had planned.”
“What did you have planned?” she said.
“I was going to bang some pots and pans in hopes of scaring him.”
Before dawn the next morning, they gathered in the main room of the house. Deborah lined up the dolls she meant to use as a focus. She needed a hair from each person to complete the spell, and she yanked the hairs out by the roots to preserve their living essence.
“I’m certain that hurt unnecessarily,” Sukey said, rubbing her scalp.
“Complain again and I’ll take another,” Deborah said as she knotted the hairs to each doll.
Few other words were exchanged. Deborah gathered up the dolls and slipped them into her dress pockets. As they stood at the door, Magdalena said, “In a week you will be back.”
“That may be as fast as we can manage,” Deborah said.
“It will depend on how hard this orphan boy is to find,” Proctor said. “If Cecily has reached him first, we may have to locate them both and—”
“It was not a question,” Magdalena said. “In a week, you will be back.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Proctor said.
Deborah faced the window. “It is almost dawn. Time to make a very noticeable departure.”
She opened the door and stepped onto the porch. Proctor followed with their biggest pan and a large wooden spoon. He banged on it as hard as he could. The sound echoed off the hills and disappeared into the trees.
“C’mon!” he bellowed. “It’s time to go! Everybody out here now!”
Deborah muttered her spell, and six other figures appeared around her. It wasn’t a convincing illusion. Up close, they were a bit gauzy, and their legs did not seem to touch the ground quite right. But as she walked off past the well, they looked solid enough.
He dropped the pan and the spoon inside the door and pulled it shut behind him. The others wouldn’t venture outside again until Proctor and Deborah were well on their way. He picked up a bag with some basic items for their journey, slung it over his shoulder, and ran to catch up with Deborah. He made a point to step around the apparitions that followed her.
“Do you have everything?” Deborah asked.
“Yes, enough for ten days,” he said. “I’d feel better with the musket.” He knew that a gun would draw too much attention on their journey, just as his tomahawk would also be hard to explain, but he
Deborah turned her head away to hide how upset she was. “She led me by the bridle, right where she wanted me to go.”
“Is that so bad? She studied with your mother—”
It was the wrong thing to say. The scattered stones rose from the mud and hovered in the air.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly.
The stones thudded to the ground. The big sow walked over to one and rooted through the mud, turning it over with her nose to see if it was worth eating.
“You’ve grown powerful this year,” he said. He knew that she practiced every day, always pushing herself. But it was a different thing to see her use that power.
Her head sagged. “I’m afraid it’s not enough.”
“You can only do so much.”
“I have to do more.” Her head came up. “The widow—she cast a spell that stretched all the way around Boston,making all the militiamen ill. She was going to place a curse on an entire army. And she said that her master was more powerful than that. How do I fight that? Come on.”
She led him to the cornfield, where she started pulling husks from the ears and tying them in knots.
“You don’t have to fight it alone, for one thing,” he said. “I’m glad you’re coming with me. What are you doing?”
She held up a little doll, made from the corn leaves. “This Bootzamon creature is out there, looking for us. When you and I leave, I’m going to make him think we’ve all left. If he thinks The Farm is abandoned, he’ll follow us.”
Proctor whistled appreciatively. “That’s better than what I had planned.”
“What did you have planned?” she said.
“I was going to bang some pots and pans in hopes of scaring him.”
Before dawn the next morning, they gathered in the main room of the house. Deborah lined up the dolls she meant to use as a focus. She needed a hair from each person to complete the spell, and she yanked the hairs out by the roots to preserve their living essence.
“I’m certain that hurt unnecessarily,” Sukey said, rubbing her scalp.
“Complain again and I’ll take another,” Deborah said as she knotted the hairs to each doll.
Few other words were exchanged. Deborah gathered up the dolls and slipped them into her dress pockets. As they stood at the door, Magdalena said, “In a week you will be back.”
“That may be as fast as we can manage,” Deborah said.
“It will depend on how hard this orphan boy is to find,” Proctor said. “If Cecily has reached him first, we may have to locate them both and—”
“It was not a question,” Magdalena said. “In a week, you will be back.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Proctor said.
Deborah faced the window. “It is almost dawn. Time to make a very noticeable departure.”
She opened the door and stepped onto the porch. Proctor followed with their biggest pan and a large wooden spoon. He banged on it as hard as he could. The sound echoed off the hills and disappeared into the trees.
“C’mon!” he bellowed. “It’s time to go! Everybody out here now!”
Deborah muttered her spell, and six other figures appeared around her. It wasn’t a convincing illusion. Up close, they were a bit gauzy, and their legs did not seem to touch the ground quite right. But as she walked off past the well, they looked solid enough.
He dropped the pan and the spoon inside the door and pulled it shut behind him. The others wouldn’t venture outside again until Proctor and Deborah were well on their way. He picked up a bag with some basic items for their journey, slung it over his shoulder, and ran to catch up with Deborah. He made a point to step around the apparitions that followed her.
“Do you have everything?” Deborah asked.
“Yes, enough for ten days,” he said. “I’d feel better with the musket.” He knew that a gun would draw too much attention on their journey, just as his tomahawk would also be hard to explain, but he