The Man With No Hands

by Toby Neighbors

  Henri was skittish as he followed Feray out into the darkness. His fears didn’t seem to abate when he saw Orin sitting atop the big draft horse he had been riding since they left Glory Keep. The man with no hands was huge, his tall frame packed with dense muscle. Even the draft horse had to be walked half the day due to Orin’s size and weight. The big man swung down from the saddle and nodded at Henri.

  “Good to see you again,” Orin said.

  “Wish I could say the same,” Henri grumbled.

  “I kept my promise.”

  “That’s not what I hear.”

  “Henri,” Feray said. “Orin saved Luc’s life. He has been a good friend.”

  The carpenter didn’t reply, he only nodded and Feray could see the skepticism in his face even in the darkness.

  “Hello, Henri,” Luc said enthusiastically.

  “Hello to you, master Luc. You look well.”

  “I’ve been on an adventure,” the child said happily.

  “Is that a fact? Well, why don’t you come inside and tell me all about it.”

  “I’ll see to the horses,” Orin said.

  “I can help him,” Via added.

  “Thank you,” Feray told them.

  “Just come on in when you’ve finished,” Henri said stiffly. “Stella will be making supper I suppose.”

  Feray, Luc, and their big dog Rolo followed Henri back into the house. It was a pleasant home, with a large stone fireplace where Feray had grieved for her murdered husband not very long ago, although it seemed like another lifetime after the events that followed. She couldn’t help but wonder how differently her life might have turned out if the earl’s son hadn’t murdered her husband during the king’s tour of the Darnish Counties. She would never have fled to the Evergreen Forest and discovered her magical powers if Marc still lived. And as grand as working magic was, she still felt a pang of regret over the life she lost with her beloved husband.

  “Feray, it’s so good to see you,” Stella said. “And Luc, you’ve grown so much.”

  Stella was a midwife and had helped deliver Luc. She had no children of her own and had a fondness for Luc. She bent down and wrapped him up in a warm embrace.

  “Are you being followed?” Henri asked Feray.

  “No,” Feray said, feeling a little guilty about the lie. She knew they were being followed by King Olmas’ men. The group kept their distance, and Feray didn’t expect any trouble from them. They were following to ensure that Feray kept her word and left the kingdom of Floralon, which she had every intention of doing, so there was no need to fear the group. And certainly no need to worry Henri over their presence.

  “Here, sit down,” Stella told them, as she pulled two chairs close to the fireplace. “I have stew, bread, cheese, and Henri has plenty of ale.”

  “That’s for me,” he said in surprise.

  “We have coin,” Feray said, handing three silver pieces to Henri. “We don’t want to be a burden.”

  “You are family,” Stella insisted. “We don’t need money and you shouldn’t worry. You are never a burden. Now tell me about your adventure.”

  Luc told their story with youthful enthusiasm. As he was wrapping up his tale of adventure, Orin and Via came inside the house. Stella ladled out bowls full of thick, spicy stew. She cut thick slices of bread and Henri poured everyone ale, then cut long slivers of cheese. Orin ate without a word, sitting on the floor, his hulking body surprisingly flexible for a man of his size.

  Via was introduced to the carpenter and his wife. She was young, only seventeen years old, and had joined Feray in Glory Keep. She kept her hair bound into a tight braid, and her thin body seemed almost frail compared to Orin.

  Almost as soon as he finished eating Luc began to nod off. Stella carried him to her bed, then returned and sat close to Feray. Orin and Via went out to the stable and made themselves as comfortable as possible. After being on the road and avoiding towns or villages, they had grown accustomed to sleeping outdoors.

  “Now tell me,” Stella said. “What really happened in Glory Keep.”

  “You’ve heard, I’m sure,” Feray replied.

  “What we heard is that you are a witch and that you murdered Earl Uthar. You would be the most wanted person in all the kingdom if everyone wasn’t so afraid of you.”

  “And of that giant you ride with,” Henri said.

  “I really did meet a man in the Evergreen Forest,” Feray said, adding to Luc’s story. “A potionist named Asher.”

  “What the hell is a potionist?” Henri asked.

  “Watch your language, Henri,” Stella warned him. “This isn’t the pub, you know.”

  He raised his hands, but he didn’t look away and Feray understood his need to know. Just having her family in his home was a huge risk to himself and the community. He was anxious to know exactly what she had done, and if she was capable of keeping them all safe.

  “He made potions, mostly medicinal elixirs, and he showed me real magic.”

  “Showed you how?” Henri pushed.

  Feray knew that she could explain it all to Henri, but it was easier to just show him. She held up her hand let a tiny trickle of magic flow upward, igniting a small flame that danced above her palm.

  “Like this, Henri,” Feray said. “He showed me that magic is real and that I have the gift.”

  “You can conjure fire?” Stella said, struggling to sound normal even though her eyes had gone wide at the sight of flame.

  “That isn’t real,” Henri said. “It’s just an illusion.” Before Feray could stop him he reached out, waving his fingers through the flame. “Ouch, that’s hot!”

  “Of course it is, you idiot,” Stella snapped at him. “Feray is our friend. She would not lie to us.”

  “How was I to know?” Henri complained, staring at the red marks on his fingers.

  “Give me your hand,” Feray told him.

  There was magic in the carpenter’s home. Feray could feel it. There was magic everywhere, and she was growing accustomed to it. There was strong, energizing magic that flowed up from the earth. There was bright, invigorating magic that moved on the wind. There was subtle, life-sustaining magic in water, and raw, powerful magic in sunlight. But there was also magic in every living thing. Certain trees were full of magic, some of it gentle and life affirming, others harsh and deadly. There were places she had passed through on their travels where magic was more potent, like a thick fog, and usually with a strong sense of purpose.

  Henri and Stella’s home had what Feray thought of as skillful magic. It resonated from the craftsmanship Henri had poured into the construction of their house, and from the various materials Stella utilized to help her safely deliver infants. It was like a familiar scent to Feray, a deeper sense of the people she knew and their influence on the unseen world. Feray focused the magic, coaxing it from the walls and floor and belongings scattered around the home. Once she had the magic swirling and moving, she directed it into Henri’s hand. It only took a few seconds, and Feray watched the red blisters on his fingers disappear.

  “That’s unbelievable,” Henri said, rubbing his thumb across the fingers where the burn had been.

  “It’s magic,” Feray said. “I went across the Mountain Veil to learn about it. I was touched by a dragon.”

  “A what?” Henri said.

  “You mean, they’re real?” Stella asked.

  Feray nodded and turned away from her friends. She untied the thong that cinched her dress around her shoulders, and let the back of the garment slide down.

  “Good god in heaven,” Henri said.

  “Is that a scar?” Stella asked.

  “It’s a mark,” Feray explained as her friend touched the skin on her back. “It was how the dragon opened my mind and will to the power of magic. He passed the ability on to me. The mark is a sign, sort of a stamp of approval.”

  “And you can control this magic?” Henri asked. “You can do things?”

  “Yes,” Feray said
. “There is magic all around us. I’m a sorceress, which means I can control magic and use it to shape the world.”

  Stella lifted the dress back into place and Feray tied the thong again, cinching up the neck of the garment. Her friend had tears in her eyes and they embraced.

  “And you are okay?” Stella asked?

  “I’m more than okay,” Feray said. “I feel more like myself than I ever have. Even with Marc. I would do anything to bring him back, but I can’t do that.”

  “How’d you end up with the king’s hound?” Henri said. “He’s not the sort to trifle with, believe me.”

  “He fought the dragon,” Feray said with a smile, remembering how fearless Orin had been. “I was with the dragon when he found me and he thought I was in danger.”

  “How big of a creature are we talking about?” Henri asked.

  “Huge, bigger than this house.”

  “And he fought with it?” Stella said. “To save you?”

  “Well you can bet it was to bring her back to the earl in once piece,” Henri said. “He was set on that, I can tell you.”

  “Yes, he wanted to take me back to the earl, but the dragon defeated Orin and made him vow to protect me. Which is exactly what he did. We were returning to Asher’s cabin in the Evergreen Forest to collect Luc, but a group of knights had followed Orin. They killed Asher and kidnapped Luc. Surely you heard that.”

  “Yes,” Stella said. “We heard.”

  “The earl was desperate to his get his hands on you,” Henri said.

  “There are a lot of rumors about you, Feray,” Stella added. People are calling you a witch.”

  “I know,” Feray nodded.

  “Some say you can heal the sick,” the midwife went on, “others that you steal their souls. No one knows what to believe. I was afraid of what you had done. Losing your husband and child would drive anyone mad.”

  “I’m not mad, Stella. I don’t steal souls or cast spells. I have healed the sick and lame. That’s how I drew the earl out of his fortress, by helping the people of Glory Keep.”

  “And then what?” Henri said. “You used magic to kill the earl?”

  “No,” Feray said. “I was confronted by the earl and his war band, but Luc was still in the fortress. Orin was there too, and saved Luc from the knight who had kidnapped him. I never laid a hand on the earl. I didn’t touch him with magic, but I did use my power to keep his warriors away from me.”

  “So how did he die then?” Henri asked.

  “His horse reared as the earl was attempting to shoot me with a bow and arrow. His hands were on his weapons and when the horse reared he tumbled backward. The horse was spooked. It stepped on the earl, twice. The second time it stepped on his stomach and I believe the injury was fatal. It was a huge horse.”

  “So he died from falling off his horse?” Henri asked not even trying to hide the shock in his voice.

  “Actually, once the war band fled, Rolo finished the earl and Orin set the Keep ablaze.”

  “Your dog killed the earl?” Henri said, sounding a little deflated. He’d expected something more spectacular she guessed.

  Rolo growled a low, pleading moan, then set his big, boxy head back on his paws.

  “That’s right,” Feray said. “We left Glory Keep the following day. Orin’s brother, Prince Alvee, let us go on the promise that we would leave Floralon.”

  “You’re leaving again?” Stella said, unable to hide the disappointment she felt.

  Feray nodded. “We have to. If we stay the king will want to control me. No one we love or care about will be safe.”

  “I’m not surprised,” Henri said. “The Old Vulture doesn’t care about anyone but himself. I seen that with my own eyes the day he passed through Greenhaven. He’s as cold and heartless as they come.”

  “When are you leaving?” Stella asked.

  “Tomorrow,” Feray admitted. “We have to go in the morning. I wasn’t completely honest with you. The king’s men are watching us from a distance to ensure that we leave Floralon.”

  “They’re here?” Henri said, jumping to his feet and going to the door.

  “They won’t bother us,” Feray said. “They won’t bother you, I promise.”

  “But you’re leaving tomorrow,” Henri said. “A fat lot of good your promise will mean once you’re gone.”

  “Henri!” Stella scolded him once more. “That is no way to talk to our guest.”

  “I’m just saying that we’re on our own. The entire county is up in arms with the earl dead and gone with no heir. There’s word from Glory Keep that the king himself is planning to name Uthar’s replacement. And you’ve said yourself, Feray, he wants you. Who’s to keep him from coming here and torturing us for information on your whereabouts. They could wipe out the entire village if they choose to. Who’s to stop them?”

  “I told you,” Feray said, trying to sooth the worried carpenter, “the king’s men are following us. There’s no need for anyone to question you, Henri. I wouldn’t have come here if I thought it would put you in danger.”

  “Why did you come?” Stella asked.

  “I came to say goodbye,” Feray admitted. “And to thank you for all the kindness you showed me and Luc and Marc over the years.”

  “You’ve no need to thank us,” Stella said. “Your friendship is more than enough.”

  “And you have it. You’ll always be near and dear to my heart, I hope you know that,” Feray said.

  “Likewise, dear,” Stella replied.

  “But there is one last thing I might be able to do,” Feray said, stepping close to Stella and putting her hands on the other woman’s stomach.

  “What do you mean?” Stella asked.

  Feray didn’t answer, she just smiled as she channeled magic into her friend’s barren womb.

  Chapter 3

  The farm looked different. It had been little more than two weeks since Feray had been there last, but already the weeds were taking over the yard and there were signs that animals had been there. The knights who had been sent to find her had ransacked the cottage and Marc’s smithy. It made her sad to see her former home in disarray. The feelings of safety and belonging she had always felt about the small homestead were gone. It was just a relic from her past, an empty reminder of what once had been and was no more.

  “What happened, mama?” Luc asked, looking around the little homestead with big, sad eyes.

  “This is what happens when a place is neglected,” Feray said. “It isn’t our home anymore, Luc.”

  “Let’s take a look at your father’s workshop,” Orin said, resting a meaty forearm on the boy’s shoulder. “There might be a few things there that you’ll need.”

  “Okay,” Luc said, perking up.

  They walked briskly toward the smithy, and Feray turned toward the house. She stepped inside, unable to keep the tears from falling from her eyes. The beds were torn apart, her cooking dishes scattered, and dark scorch marks stained the floor.

  “Are you okay, my lady?” Via asked, as she stepped just inside the opening where the door had been knocked from its hinges and was sagging against one wall.

  “Yes, I’m fine,” Feray said, wiping the tears from her face. “I had a lot of happy memories in this home, and now they’ve been erased.”

  “No one can rob you of your memories,” Via said. “My mother always said that the only things we truly own are the knowledge we work to learn, the experiences we live through, and the memories we make along the way.”

  “She sounds like a wise woman,” Feray said.

  “I thought so, but then she married a violent man who loved to drink,” Via said. “He beat her to death one night when I was fourteen. I had to run away to keep him from doing the same to me.”

  “You never told me about your father,” Feray prompted, as she led the young woman from the cottage. “What was he like?”

  “Full of laughter,” Via said. “He was always smiling, always trying to get me to smile and l
augh.”

  “I can see why,” Feray said. “You have a beautiful smile.”

  “Thank you,” Via said, putting her hand on the forehead of the horse they rode together. “He was a good man, but unlucky. My mother said he caught a fever and died in the night when I was only seven. I barely remember that night.”

  “I hope Luc’s memory of seeing his father killed fades,” Feray said. “I’m sorry you lost your parents while you were so young.”

  “You lost yours too?” she asked.

  Feray nodded, “When I was a toddler… younger than Luc. I don’t remember them at all. In some ways I think that’s easier. I don’t feel as though I had something precious taken from me. Not that my life was easier. I was passed from family to family at first. When I got old enough, I was put to work and treated more like a slave than a child. I ran away, too. I was your age when I met Marc. He was so handsome and talented.”

  “He swept you off your feet?” Via asked, smiling so brightly Feray understood why her father loved her smile.

  “He did,” she admitted. “I couldn’t resist his optimism. No matter what happened, he always managed to find the good in every situation. He could work from dawn to dusk, and still want to know about what I did that day and how I was feeling. We would sit up and talk for hours. Sometimes I felt sorry for him, but I craved those hours at night, sitting by the fire, sipping on his sour ale and talking. I still do, sometimes, well… not the ale, but the talking.”

  They both giggled as Luc came running from the smithy. He had his father’s old hammer and was holding it up in both of his little hands, making the tool look huge. The metal was worn smooth and the hammer’s head was rounded from years of heavy pounding on hot iron and the cold steel of Marc’s anvil.

  “Look mama,” Luc shouted excitedly. “I’ve got daddy’s hammer!”

  Rolo barked excitedly.

  “I see that,” Feray said.

  Orin came out of the smithy with a sack of tools. He slung them over the saddle horn of his horse and held up a small utility knife in a plain leather sheath.

  “For when he’s old enough to learn to use it correctly,” Orin said. “I can show him how to care for it, if you’ll permit me.”