Work Text:
The moment Elayne stepped foot in the Citia Swamps, she could feel something wrong. It had nothing to do with the blinding, overbearing Light overhead — it wasn’t a blanket of burning pressure, though it certainly didn’t help. No, it was the sensation of being watched. There was something wandering those marshy woods, something malevolent that chased away the animals and brought an unnatural silence to the canopies that spelled danger.
When she, Thancred, Urianger, and Minfilia made it to Slitherbough, they learned the reason for this dark presence. A rival sect, the Children of the Everlasting Dark, had placed a curse on the best fishing spots close to Lake Tusi Mek’ta, in their latest efforts to hinder the Blessed’s activities, and the curse had slowly begun to spread to the rest of the swamp. Because of this, the Blessed had been driven out of the woods, and one of their biggest food sources had dried up, leaving them susceptible to possible famine.
“...And now that you’re here, now we have to deal with the combined threat of the Lightwarden, when we uncover its whereabouts, and Eulmore on their heels,” Y’shtola pronounced with a heavy sigh, leaning back against her chair in her cave study. “It’s one problem after another. I’ve tried every curse and hex reversal I know how to perform, and nothing has offset the spread. ‘Tis truly an esoteric thing.” She glanced at Elayne. “It reminds me of your witchcraft. So many problems would have been solved by now if I knew how to do it.”
An idea struck Elayne, and she began to pace the room. Rus witchcraft had spells for many things, and casting and lifting curses were some of the classic inspirations for new ones. Their witchcraft was fluid, flexible, able to change and adapt for any situation, and good witches were expected to do so as well. The best witches could modify any spell in their arsenal, to achieve any effect they desired. All you needed was the knowledge and the conviction. Alas, her people were protective of their traditions, and only a few outsiders had ever gotten to partake of the depths of the craft. But lucky for them, Elayne had no qualms sharing it with the Blessed.
“You look like you’re on to something, Elayne,” Y’shtola commented.
“I have an idea, but it’s going to take some thinking through,” Elayne told her.
“What is it?” Minfilia asked.
“I know of a spell that can counter a curse cast over a large area like this, but it takes a good deal of preparation, and some of the ingredients aren’t easy to come by,” Elayne informed them. “What’s more, if we want it to work, we’d have to modify it a bit — it isn’t meant to work in a location with undefined parameters.”
“In what manner of undefined? Natural borders, legal statutes?” Urianger questioned.
“Specifically, it is a countercurse designed to be cast over someone’s land or home, so property lines, so to speak. Let’s say I had a pasture that, by law, extends from the pond to the treeline, and those limits were set in stone by a map. The countercurse would be effective because of the set parameters, strengthened by visible rendering of those limits. A fence is phenomenal for this sort of spell, but in lieu of that and other easily visualized parameters, it’s much more difficult to cast it effectively.”
“And given the lack of clear beginning and end of lake and land in the swamp, it is all but impossible to lift the curse without modification,” Urianger concluded.
“Precisely,” Elayne agreed.
“So we need to set boundaries,” Y’shtola said, grinning when Elayne snorted. “But how? As you pointed out, we clearly do not have the woods fenced off.”
“We can’t rely on the treeline, and as Urianger said, the marshes are notoriously permeable, so it’s hard to define clear borders. But that doesn’t mean we can’t make them.” Elayne said confidently. “For something like this, I recommend enclosing all the affected areas with brightly-colored rope. That way it can be seen easily in both land and water, and no matter the shape the line takes as it floats, it is still recognized as a border. To make sure the curse can’t go past it, soak the rope in brine mixed with sage; that should contain it. This particular spell also requires clear corners, so to establish those, stick poles into the ground made from rowan wood or iron — I suggest iron, since it’s more durable. Once the borders are set and the curse is contained, then we can focus on ingredients.”
“I’ve come to know these woods like the back of my hand, so how about I focus on mapping out our ‘property’ while you acquire the ingredients?” Y’shtola suggested.
“Excellent idea, Y’shtola.”
“I too have come to know some part of these woods, so I shall be glad to assist thee,” Urianger said to the Miqo’te.
“Ready for a witchcraft lesson, zaika?” Elayne called to Minfilia.
Minfilia nodded eagerly and bounded out of the cave behind her, excited to see what an advanced witchcraft spell like this looked like. “Aside from the borders, what do we need?” she asked.
“A few things. First we need a blanket, or mat — square or rectangular, something with defined corners. It’s probably the most essential part, as it is used to represent the area we are banishing the curse from. Everything done on the blanket applies to the whole property. To set the corners down, you also need candles, black to be precise. The candles serve the same purpose as the poles, and they are black because black flames are very powerful banishing agents.
“Once you have the foundation laid out, next is building up the power of the spell — hence, all the ingredients we have to get. After the blanket and candles, you need a couple more things. First is black salt; it builds a barrier to push out the malevolent forces and ward off anything that means you harm. If you’re in a hurry then any salt will do, but black salt is the best; the color black in general has strong protection and transformation properties. Then you need two black tourmaline crystals, once again for protection. You can also use black obsidian or amethyst; the first is for banishing, the second for spiritual cleansing. Finally, you need coffin nails —”
“I’m sorry, coffin nails?” Minfilia exclaimed.
“Coffin nails,” Elaybe confirmed, grinning. “Iron is a very strong protection agent, hence why I also recommended iron poles. They’re kind of like gigantic coffin nails themselves.”
“Where are we going to get all of that? Surely it’s going to be hard to find coffin nails,” Minfilia moaned.
“The nails are often sourced directly from coffins, so yes, it is generally difficult to find them. Lucky for us, I keep some reagents in my bag in case something like this happens, including coffin nails,” Elayne assured her. “As for the rest, after seeing some of the materials the Blessed use for their own rituals, we shouldn’t have too much trouble finding those. Let’s see if we can’t find some rope and brine while we’re at it too.”
While Elayne and Minfilia worked on finding the ingredients, Y’shtola and Urianger consulted maps of Rak’tika, examining renderings of the Citia Swamps and reports of incidents involving the curse until they had the affected areas mapped out, with a border drawn around them to contain them. Once the borders were drawn, they assisted the girls with ingredients until they had everything they needed, then left Slitherbough with their bounty in tow to begin work on the spell.
Elayne divided the four of them up into two groups: she and Minfilia would focus on the lake borders, while Urianger and Y’shtola would do the land. She would have preferred Thancred’s assistance as well, but she had no idea where he had stalked off to after Y’shtola yelled at him, and given she was angry with him too, she decided they could make do without him. The lake borders weren’t far from shore, so she was able to peel off her shirt and shoes and swim out with the poles, staking them firmly into the lake bed before swimming back to get Minfilia. The two of them managed to tie the rope around the poles and connect the coils themselves without much issue. Having secured the land border, Urianger spotted them returning with their ropes and, despite hating the water, disregarded his scorn and waded out waist-deep to meet them, knotting their rope with his, and accompanying them out of the lake. Y’shtola waited for them onshore with towels and a smirk, leading Urianger to shoot her a death glare.
“Is everything ready?” Y’shtola inquired.
Elayne nodded. “Just let me dry off.” She changed clothes and wringed her hair out with a towel, keeping a wary eye for any malevolent spirits, before relieving her friend of the satchel of ingredients. Finding a dry spot in the center of the rope borders, she spread the blanket out and began securing it with the candles. Minfilia flopped on the ground, enraptured, while Y’shtola and Urianger looked on in silence; to speak would feel like sacrilege.
“The first candle stops evil in its tracks,” Elayne slowly explained as she lit the candles; her voice sounded unnaturally hushed. “The second implores the malevolent forces to leave. The latter two strengthen the convictions of the former.”
With the candles lit, Elayne took out the coffin nails and threw a few down by each candle; the sound of them hitting the earth was like a hammer into rock. She placed the two black tourmaline crystals on each side of the blanket, explaining it was to push the spirits out from both sides, closing off any means of escape and keeping them from returning, then started sprinkling the salt around the blanket.
“Once everything is in place, you say the incantation four times, one for each candle,” Elayne whispered. “You must be clear, firm, commanding. Spells do nothing without the conviction to fuel them.” She sat down on her knees on the edge of the blanket and took a deep breath. Her friends tensed, listening for both her and the whispers of the cursed spirits they could feel closing in on them.
“Voyageur fatigué, quitte ces terres. Ta malice n’est pas la bienvenue.”
There was a strength in these words, power. It was palpable; they could feel the whisper shake their bones, and there was pressure on their backs.
“Voyageur fatigué, quitte ces terres. Ta malice n’est pas la bienvenue,” Elayne repeated, voice stronger, slowly wafting the smoke into the air.
They could hear more whispers now, whispers that did not belong to her — the voices cursed the witch, her friends, the Light.
“Voyageur fatigué, quitte ces terres. Ta malice n’est pas la bienvenue.”
The flames spiked, the wind picked up, Urianger pushed Y’shtola closer to the blanket, ready to shield her himself. Elayne slowly rose to her knees, her hands shaking. The nails and candles shivered. The spirits were about to descend on them.
“Voyageur fatigué, quitte ces terres! Ta malice n’est pas la bienvenue!” Elayne nearly yelled, her eyes raised to the heavens.
The flames surged, then instantly burned out. The shaking stopped, the whispers and suffocating pressure vanished, and soon the sound of crickets returned to the swamps.
“Witchcraft, ladies and gentlefolk,” Elayne cheerfully announced, apparently oblivious to her friends’ awed stares. “Emphasis on the craft.”
“Elayne, that was incredible!” Minfilia gushed.
“So that is what advanced Rus witchcraft looks like,” Y’shtola murmured, intrigued.
“‘Twas a wondrous sight to behold, Elayne,” Urianger complimented with a smile. “The power of thine craft is not to be trifled with.”
“That sentiment, I wholeheartedly agree,” Elayne replied, gathering up the remains of the spell. “Oh Mother of Witches, it felt nice to do a big spell. I haven’t gotten to do that in a while. You guys want to help me clean up?”
They agreed to help, and they spent the rest of the time learning the ins and outs of cleaning up after witchcraft.