The Choice of Magic

by Michael G. Manning

Chapter 4

  Winter came and went, boring and uneventful, with little to do and even less to talk about. During the cold months, Will’s mother’s work was limited to tending the sick and the occasional childbirth. Unless a patient showed up on their doorstep, there was no relief from the tedium for him, for she rarely took him with her when she went to someone’s home.

  Spring was a welcome relief when it arrived. Will didn’t even mind the rain and mud, so long as he was free of the confines of four walls, hemmed in by the unforgiving cold. Spring meant freedom. Once the garden was planted, there wasn’t much to do other than watch the plants grow, and there were few colds and illnesses, so Will was free to visit Eric or roam the woods as he pleased.

  Except today. Becca Taylor had gone into labor, and Will’s mother had been called to her home to oversee the delivery. That meant Will was tied to the house, in case anyone else showed up wanting to buy a remedy.

  It wouldn’t have been so bad if one of his friends had been able to visit him, but they were all busy helping their own parents. At thirteen, most of them had begun working nearly every day. Will was the only one that still had a modest degree of freedom and leisure.

  He was sitting in front of the house, staring up at the sky through the slender branches waving in the wind, when his day became a lot more interesting. Several people came down the path from the road, moving in haste. It only took him a second to recognize them. It was Tracy and Joseph Tanner, who lived in the village.

  The young couple was a relatively new addition to Barrowden, having moved there only four years ago. Erisa had delivered their first child, a boy named Joey, only two years past. Joseph was carrying their young son in his arms as they hurried toward Will’s house.

  “Where’s your mother?” called Tracy as soon as she saw Will, a tone of desperate urgency in her voice.

  Will jumped to his feet. “She’s at the Taylors’, delivering a baby. What’s wrong?”

  “It’s Joey,” answered the young mother. “He’s got a boil on his leg.”

  “We wasted our time,” said Joseph, giving his wife an angry glance. “It’s a half day’s walk to the Taylor house.”

  Will had relaxed slightly when he heard the word ‘boil.’ At first, their faces had made him fear it was something more serious.

  “Do you have anything that might help?” asked Tracy, ignoring her husband’s complaint.

  “You’ll need a fresh poultice to draw it out,” Will informed her. “But I know how to make one. Bring him in the house and I’ll do what I can.”

  The father glared at him. “He’s just a boy. We should go home. He’ll only make it worse.”

  “It can’t get much worse, Joseph,” declared Tracy. “Everyone trusts Erisa. Her son must at least know a little about these things.”

  Will didn’t like the sound of that, but he opened the door and ushered them in, directing them to place their son on the small bed he called his own. When Tracy drew back the blanket to show him the small boy’s leg, he almost hissed in alarm.

  That’s no boil, he realized. It’s a septic wound. There was a large, puss-filled abscess on the child’s thigh, surrounded by red and inflamed tissue. Tentatively he pressed on it, noting the thick, yellow fluid that oozed out at the slight pressure. Red streaks ran up and down the boy’s leg.

  “When did it start?” he asked, trying to hide the tremor in his voice.

  “Two days ago,” answered the boy’s mother. “He came in after playing and had a small scratch. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but it’s gotten steadily worse.”

  Will was hardly an expert, but he knew enough to know the boy’s chances were poor. Putting one hand against Joey’s forehead, he noted the heat there. He already has a fever. This is bad. Short of removing the boy’s leg, Will didn’t know of anything that would help once a wound had turned septic. Poultices were nearly useless once the sickness had moved into the blood.

  He was also afraid of how Joseph Tanner would react if he told them the truth.

  Joseph grew impatient waiting on him. “Can you do anything or not?”

  Squaring his shoulders, Will decided to be honest up front. If the boy’s father lost his temper, it wasn’t really his fault, and if he gave the man false hope, it would be much worse later. “I won’t lie. I think it’s bad. I can make a poultice for the wound and try to bring down his fever with some tea, but the wound has sickened. My mother has more knowledge than I do, but I think it might be too late, even for her.” He kept his eyes firmly on Joseph’s as he spoke, then bowed his head respectfully when he had finished.

  Before Joseph could reply, his wife put her hand on his arm. “Don’t be angry with the boy. It isn’t his fault. Maybe we can take Joey to the Taylors’…”

  Her husband let out a long, pent-up breath. “No. That would take too long, and most of her medicines are here.” Then he put his hand on Will’s shoulder. “Thank you for being truthful. Do what you can and I won’t blame you. The fault lies on me. I should have brought him yesterday.” Looking back at Tracy, he added, “I’ll go to the Taylors; and see if Erisa can come back sooner. You stay here with Will and see if he can help Joey in the meantime.”

  The man left soon after that, leaving Will alone with Tracy and her sick son, but he felt as if he were alone, and the weight of the world was resting on his shoulders.

  Going to the back of the house, Will soon returned with a small packet of willow bark, which he handed to Tracy. “Can you make a tea while I work on the poultice? This should help with the fever. I’ll do something about his leg.”

  But what? he thought to himself, fighting to suppress a feeling of panic. He went back to the storeroom and looked at the dried herbs hanging in bundles there. Compared to what they had been like when freshly cut, they felt dead and nearly useless to him. In his strange way, he could sense that they retained some of their properties, but not the ones needed to cleanse a wound such as the one he had just seen.

  He returned to the boy and studied the wound, trying to capture the feeling he got sometimes when harvesting and inspecting fresh herbs. The exercise left him frustrated, like trying to draw a picture of something without being allowed to look directly at it, but he felt as though he had learned something, even if he couldn’t describe it. Then he went outside. He needed something fresh.

  A quick perusal of the garden told him what he already knew. None of the plants were ready. He was about to give up and go back inside when his eyes fell on the lilac bush growing by the corner of the house. His mother kept it mainly for ornamental purposes, but he knew the leaves could be used for rashes. Moving closer, he examined it closely. What he found seemed promising. He ripped off several large handfuls of leaves, and as he did, he saw a large, green garden spider hanging in its web just under the eaves of the house.

  The web seemed to sparkle, pulling at him, and an idea occurred to him then.

  When he returned to the house, Tracy already had the kettle close to boiling, so he borrowed some of the water to scald and clean the lilac leaves before putting them in a mortar to crush. Then he used a little more to clean a sharp knife his mother used to harvest particularly delicate plants. Tracy watched him worriedly while brewing the willow tea.

  “What’s the knife for?” she asked.

  Will had been trying not to think about that, but he answered anyway, “We have to clean the wound out first. Otherwise it won’t matter what else we do.”

  Her jaw firmed. “You’re not cutting my son.”

  Will’s own fear and uncertainty turned to anger as he replied, “Fine. We’ll wait for Mom. If she leaves as soon as your husband gets there, they’ll be back by midnight. She’ll tell you the same thing, but it will be too late by then.”

  Tracy Tanner chewed her lip nervously. “Are you sure?”

  No, thought Will. I’m not sure of anything. He nodded confidently instead. “I don’t know if we can save him, but I know if we don’t clean it out he will die for sure.�
� I can’t believe I just said that!

  Something about his attitude convinced her, and ten minutes later they were sitting by the bedside where Joey lay. They had already coaxed him into drinking some of the bitter willow tea, though not as much as Will thought he needed.

  Will took up the knife. “Try to keep him still. I’ll make a small cut. After that, you pour some of the water over it.”

  The next few minutes were a nightmare. The abscess was sensitive and painful; the boy jerked and began to thrash as soon as he felt the knife touch his skin. “Hold him still,” ordered Will, grinding his teeth together and praying he wouldn’t faint himself.

  The second attempt was more successful, although his cut was slightly ragged due to Joey’s movements. The pus emerged in a sudden rush, followed by a thin, sanguineous fluid. The smell made Will’s stomach turn, but he forced himself to keep his eyes on the wound as Tracy poured clean water over it.

  Will could see a deep hole where the pus had been, one that rapidly filled with blood whenever the boy’s mother stopped pouring water. He suspected his mother might have tried cutting deeper, to make sure the wound was clean, but he didn’t have the nerve. This will have to be enough. “All right, stop,” he said.

  He reached for the mortar filled with bruised lilac, but he kept his eyes on Tracy. As soon as she took her eyes away, he picked up the small bundle of spider silk and pushed it into the wound. Then he covered it with a handful of ground lilac leaves and put a clean cloth on top of that.

  “Will it be enough?” asked Tracy.

  “I don’t know,” said Will, but he had a strong feeling it wouldn’t. In some strange way, he could still feel the sickness in the boy’s body. Cleaning the wound had been a good start, but it wasn’t likely to be enough. The lilac and spider silk felt right to him—they would stop the wound from festering—but they couldn’t reach the poison already circulating in the child’s bloodstream.

  He’s going to die, thought Will. It would take a day or two, but it was a near certainty, and when it happened they would probably blame him. For the first time, he began to understand the burden his mother carried every time she went to care for the sick or deliver someone’s baby, and he felt a new respect for her.

  “I can do that,” suggested Tracy, indicating the hand he was using to keep the poultice pressed against Joey’s leg. “You’ve done all you can.”

  “Let me hold it a while longer,” he answered. “Then we can wrap it in place with a bandage.”

  She nodded and sat back, but Will couldn’t relax. Staring down at the little boy, he wished he could do more. He could feel something stirring within him, a desire to reach out, but he didn’t understand it.

  Closing his eyes, Will kept his mind on the wound, and in his imagination it seemed as though he could almost see the essence contained in the spider silk and lilac flowing outward, ever so slowly, but it wasn’t enough, and it wouldn’t travel far.

  There needs to be more, he thought, and then he began pressing harder on the wound, but not with his hand. From deep within, he felt something move, flowing through his hands and cloth and into the poultice. It was as though his own life was pouring into the boy.

  It wasn’t quite right, though; it needed to match the feeling he got from the lilac, from the spiderweb. He imagined it shifting, becoming more like the essence within the poultice, complementing and expanding it.

  I’m delusional, he thought, but in his mind’s eye he could see it working. The essence was expanding, moving through the small boy’s body, and wherever it encountered the sickness, it eliminated it.

  A quarter of an hour passed, and Will grew steadily weaker, as though the strength was leaving his body. He felt as though he had run several miles without stopping. That’s all I can do. Letting go of the poultice, he looked up at Joey’s mother. The woman was watching him with a strange look in her eye.

  “I think he’s going to be all right,” he told her. “Can you wrap it? I’m really tired.” Standing up, he started to leave the room—he needed some air—but after only a few steps the world began to spin, and the floor rushed up at him. He was unconscious before he landed.

  ***

  Erisa and Joseph Tanner showed up sometime after midnight. They were surprised when it was Tracy who answered the door to let them in.

  “Thank goodness you’re here,” said Tracy with obvious relief.

  “How is our son?” asked Joseph.

  “He’s much better,” said Tracy Tanner, but her face retained its worried expression. “But something happened to Will.”

  “Will?” said Erisa, looking past the other woman’s shoulders. “Where is he?” Tracy stood aside, and they entered. Erisa found her son moments later, stretched out on the floor beside his bed. A pillow had been placed under his head and a blanket covered his body. Joey slept peacefully in the bed itself. “Is he sleeping?”

  Tracy shook her head. “I don’t think so. He passed out after putting the poultice on Joey. He had the strangest look on his face. I haven’t been able to wake him since, so I did my best to make him comfortable.”

  Erisa checked Will’s breathing and listened for his heartbeat, reassuring herself that her son was still alive. Then she shook him and called his name several times but failed to rouse him. Opening his eyes, she watched to see if they dilated in response to light. They did, which was a relief, but he still showed no signs of waking. Looking up at Joseph, she asked, “Can you help me get him into my bed?”

  Joseph Tanner was a slender-built man, but he didn’t lack for strength. He bent and lifted Will before carrying him to Erisa’s room and laying him gently on the bed. Once he was settled, Erisa turned to Tracy. “Can you tell me what happened?”

  Tracy described Will’s efforts, from lancing the abscess to preparing and placing the poultice. Erisa was somewhat surprised that her son had had the courage to take a knife to the wound, since he had never done anything like that before, though he had watched her a time or two in the past. She felt a quiet sense of pride in her son, while simultaneously hoping he hadn’t made the wound worse through his inexperience.

  Tracy wasn’t finished, though. “After that, he held the poultice in place for a while. It seemed a little strange, almost as though he was praying over him. It was maybe a quarter of an hour, then he told me to wrap it up, but he passed out as soon as he stood up.”

  Erisa’s heart sped up as she heard the story, but she tried to keep her face calm. “Would you mind making some tea for us, Mrs. Tanner? You’ll find everything in the cupboards there. I’ll check on Joey in the meantime.” She left the two of them and went into Will’s room, where Joey lay, shutting the door behind her.

  Her first impression was that the little boy’s condition wasn’t nearly as serious as his father had described. Joey was sleeping peacefully, and when she laid her hand on his brow, she felt no sign of fever.

  That wasn’t too unusual. If he had been on the mend already, his fever might have broken naturally, but it didn’t match up with what they had told her. Chewing her lip, Erisa began to unwind the bandage around the child’s leg, her eyes widening when they saw the wound.

  It looked as though it had been healing for several days, with no signs of redness or swelling. The edges of the knife cut Will had made were already puckered and starting to draw together. “No, no, no,” moaned Erisa. “This can’t be happening.”

  Examining the poultice, she recognized the lilac leaves. “Why did he use this?” she muttered to herself. “The yarrow would have been better.” She shook her head to clear it. There was no time for wondering at what he had done. Her first priority was covering her son’s tracks.

  She returned to the main room and gathered up a fresh cloth bandage from a drawer and went back to the small boy. Judging by the progress of the wound, it needed only a light dressing. Air would be more important than herbs at this stage, so it could dry out and close properly. She wrapped it carefully and went back to the Tanners.


  “Joey should be fine in a few days,” she told them. “It wasn’t as serious as you described.”

  Tracy frowned. “Your son said he might die.”

  Erisa put a hint of condescension into her smile. “My son is a quick learner, but he lacks experience. Boys his age enjoy excitement too much. It might have been serious if you had waited longer, but fortunately you didn’t. I’ll keep Joey for a day or two and he can go home after that.”

  “I’ll stay with my son,” declared Tracy.

  It took Erisa almost a quarter of an hour to convince both of the Tanners that there was no need for them to spend the night. Their home, after all, was less than twenty minutes away, and Erisa’s house didn’t have any extra beds or other accommodations for two extra people.

  “I’ll be back in the morning,” conceded Tracy at last. She had been the more difficult of the two to convince.

  Erisa nodded. “That’s fine, but there’s no rush to get up early. You haven’t slept. Whenever you wake up will be all right, or even the next day. I’ll take good care of Joey.”

  As soon as they had left, Erisa climbed into bed next to her son. She made sure to leave her curtain drawn, though. She was tired, but she wanted to get up early. There was someone she needed to see before the Tanners returned.

  Chapter 5

  Will woke slowly. The sunlight was streaming through the window of what he soon recognized was his mother’s room. From the angle of the shadows, he could tell it was quite late, close to noon, though he had no idea why he would have slept so long. When he tried to sit up, the room began to spin, and he quickly lay back down.

  Why am I so tired? he wondered. He had quite a few other questions as well, such as how had he gotten in the bed, whether his mother was home, and how Joey was doing?

  It was about then that he became aware of the voices talking outside the room, which answered one of his questions. His mother was definitely home. Holding perfectly still, Will strained to make out their words.