The Choice of Magic

by Michael G. Manning

  “Grandfather’s body,” he replied. “I know she’s dangerous, but I think she really wants to help. They won’t find us here.”

  “What about food?” asked Sammy.

  Erisa took a deep breath. “There’s enough stored to keep us until spring, but it won’t be pleasant. It’s mainly turnips, parsnips, carrots, and dried peas. Without meat we’ll get sick of those pretty quickly.”

  “We’ve got eggs,” suggested Sammy.

  “The hens have already almost stopped laying,” said Erisa. “I suppose we could eat a couple of them, but then we’ll be in bad shape when spring arrives.”

  Will wished he knew how the old man had been getting butter and other necessities, but it was too late to ask him. “At least we won’t starve,” he said at last.

  “We’re wasting heat standing out here,” said his mother. “Let’s go inside. William, bring in some more wood.”

  They had a simple meal that evening, though Will still managed to earn high praise from both his mother and Sammy for his cooking. He wondered if they’d still feel the same after several months of eating the same food every day. Without much else to do, they talked and played chess with a gameboard and pieces that Erisa had found in Arrogan’s room. She had to teach them the rules, so Will and Sammy lost every game, but it was fun anyway.

  When they got ready to sleep, Will retired to his cot, leaving the bed to them. He claimed it was because he was too old to sleep with his mother, and while that was partly true, his main reason was that he needed time alone to think.

  I’m seventeen now, he realized. In all the commotion of the past few days, his birthday had passed unnoticed. In a year he would be considered a man, though he hardly felt like it. Eric was still sixteen when they took him. I’m certainly old enough.

  Although it had never been something he considered before, he felt a strong need to join the King’s Army. It wasn’t something he wanted, but seeing the soldiers of Darrow occupying Barrowden after their slaughter had changed something in him. Losing his aunt and little Dougie had shocked and hurt him, but it had also created a newfound determination. Without the old man around to learn from, he had no reason to stay. His main concern was finding a way to ensure that his mother and Sammy would be safe.

  Aislinn’s promise was reassuring, but he still worried. Food might not be an absolute problem, since there were plenty of vegetables, but he didn’t like the thought of them spending the entire winter trying to subsist on just those things.

  Unfortunately, other than the ability to sneak and hide, he had few practical woodland skills. He knew enough to make simple snares for small game like rabbits and squirrels, but those were unlikely to catch anything in the winter. He didn’t have a bow, but even if he did, he didn’t know how to use one, much less stalk deer or other large game. He could make a fire with simple tools, find edible plants, and move quietly. That was the extent of his usefulness.

  Oh, and I can make funny shapes out of turyn that no one can see, he reminded himself. He knew the runes of power, but he hadn’t the faintest idea how to use them. He couldn’t even create a light. I’m just another mouth to feed.

  He couldn’t justify leaving them based on that, though. He needed to do something, and joining the army seemed to be the only way he could do anyone any good. But he couldn’t leave unless he knew they would be safe.

  His thoughts twisted back and forth along those paths for a long time before he finally gave in to sleep, but even his dreams were troubled.

  Chapter 31

  Will woke just as the sun was beginning to crest the horizon and went out to see if he might get lucky and find an egg. The hens hadn’t produced many over the past week, but there was always the chance that they might lay one more before they closed up shop for the winter. He stopped when he stepped onto the porch, taking in a view that was unexpected for more than one reason.

  The first snow had come, blanketing the world in a sheet of white—a blanket that was stained with crimson streaks. On the ground in front of the house was a large doe, a very dead doe. Arrogan would have been thrilled, was the first thought that came to him when he got over the shock.

  There were claw marks along the doe’s flanks, but that hadn’t been what killed her. Something had bitten through the back of her neck, close to her skull, killing her almost instantly. Will jumped three feet backward when something brushed up against his leg.

  It was the goddamn cat, his paws and muzzle stained dark with drying blood. Will stared at the feline with undisguised horror. “Did you do this?” he asked aloud.

  There’s no way this cat could have done this, he told himself silently.

  The goddamn cat coughed and began to retch. After a moment he coughed up what Will thought might be a hairball, but on closer inspection turned out to be a piece of bone. The cat looked up at Will and bared his teeth in what might have been a smile, or a warning. Either way, with the blood all over his face the expression was terrifying. Then the cat walked around him, rubbing against his leg once more before walking over to sit beside the deer carcass.

  “Is this for us?” asked Will. I’ve gone mad, he thought immediately after. Now I’m talking to the cat too.

  The grey tom stared at him for a long moment, then blinked slowly before walking away, heading back into the wilderness. “This is unbelievable,” Will muttered to himself before turning to the door and yelling, “Mom!”

  Erisa took the news more pragmatically than he expected. Rather than ask questions, she instructed him to gut the beast quickly and then showed him how to hang it so she could bleed the body. “She’s still warm,” said his mother. “We want to do it before the meat freezes.”

  Will had never cleaned anything larger than a rabbit or chicken, but his mother had apparently had some experience and she walked him through the process. The gutting was essentially the same, but skinning the animal afterward was considerably more work. It turned out that hanging the deer was essential for that as well.

  “When did you learn to do this?” he asked his mother when they were almost done.

  Erisa smiled, as though remembering something pleasant. “When I was young. My father, your grandfather, loved to hunt. Mom wasn’t very fond of cleaning game, so my father always had to do it. When I was old enough, he let me help him.”

  It didn’t sound like a very pleasant memory, but he could tell from the look in her eye that she felt differently. He wondered how many more things there were about her past that he didn’t know. People were full of mysteries. That thought brought him around to Arrogan, and he realized the old man had had hundreds of years’ worth of experiences he knew nothing about—that he would never know about. Once again, he was almost overwhelmed by the sense of how much he had lost.

  He was brought back from his reverie when he realized his mother had asked a question. “Sorry. What did you say?”

  “I asked if you knew what killed the doe,” said Erisa.

  Will couldn’t begin to come up with a lie big enough to cover this, so he simply answered, “I think it was the cat.”

  She laughed. “I could almost believe it of that strange cat, but the claw marks on the hind quarters were too big.”

  He held her eyes with his. “I’m pretty sure it was the cat.”

  She frowned. “You’re suggesting it can transform or some such?”

  “I have no idea. I don’t know what the goddamn cat can do, but he’s no ordinary cat,” he told her. “I’m just glad he seems to be on our side. Aislinn said the fae won’t come near the house because of him.”

  Erisa looked worried. “That would’ve suited your grandfather just fine, but how can we be sure it’s safe?”

  Will shrugged. “It’s just a feeling, but I think he’ll protect this place. Between him, and Aislinn hiding the house from the soldiers, I doubt there’s a safer place in the entire kingdom.”

  His mother nodded. “I suppose there was a reason Arrogan chose to stay here for so long.”

/>   The next few days passed quietly as they settled into a simple, yet boring routine. With snow on the ground there was nothing to do but cook and sleep. Will continued his math and reading practice even though he had pretty much mastered the material he had. He also spent some time drilling with the runes. He knew them all by heart now, but it was recent knowledge. He worried he would begin to forget them if he didn’t go over them every once in a while. Not that it matters, he thought sourly. I can’t do anything with them.

  “You will have many teachers,” Aislinn had told him, and he believed her. Perhaps someday he would have an opportunity to learn enough to use them.

  Such thoughts did nothing to cure him of his desperate desire to do something now. Aside from cooking, he had little to offer Sammy and his mother, and even that was becoming a topic of contention. His mother seemed to think the best way to cook anything, including venison, was simply to stew it. While that was fine now and then, he preferred to have a little variety, and his effort to teach his mother seemed to set her teeth on edge.

  And they had only been cooped up together for four days. How bad would it be in a month?

  If I’m going to join the army I need to leave soon, he thought. The western pass that led to Branscombe was easier, and wouldn’t close as soon as the eastern pass to Darrow, but it would become impassable if he waited too long.

  But he couldn’t imagine telling his mother that he planned to go. She wouldn’t accept it. Even if they had an army of soldiers and retainers to protect the house and see to their every need, it wouldn’t have mattered. It wasn’t her safety she was concerned with, it was his, and joining the army was too dangerous.

  The next night, after his mother and Sammy went to bed, he rose quietly and began packing his meager belongings. There wasn’t much, since he only had two sets of clothes. He added Arrogan’s winter cloak to them and wrapped up enough food to last him three days. He didn’t have any portable pans so he wouldn’t have many options when it came to cooking the meat, but he could simply roast it he decided. The carrots he could eat raw.

  Before he left, he got out his writing materials and penned a short note:

  Mom,

  I know you’ll be angry, but I have to do this. I’m going to Branscombe to join the King’s Army there. I also hope to find Uncle Johnathan and Eric to let them know you and Sammy are safe.

  Will

  He stared at the note. It was very short, and he knew there were many more things he could say, but none of them would matter. He left the page on the table and put on the cloak before going out the door. The goddamn cat was sitting on the porch, as though waiting for him.

  “I’m leaving,” he told the cat. “I’m going to join the army to help liberate Barrowden.”

  The grey tom began cleaning himself, starting with his balls, as if to show his opinion of that course of action.

  Will couldn’t help but chuckle. “Granddad would have likely thought the same.” After a few seconds, he added, “Thank you for the deer. I hope you’ll watch over them until I get back.”

  The cat sat up, his ears snapping forward as all of his attention came to rest on Will. Then he walked forward until he was in front of the young man’s boots. Unsure what to do, Will bent down and held his hand out, offering to scratch the feline’s chin. With no warning, the goddamn cat’s paw lashed out, leaving a bloody groove on the back of Will’s hand.

  “Ow!” exclaimed Will, snatching his hand back. “What was that for?”

  The tom sniffed his paw, smelling the blood there, then walked to the front door and stretched up to catch the wood with his claws. Pulling down, he left scratches in the wood, then he turned and looked at Will again. He blinked once, slowly, then curled up in front of the door.

  Was that his way of sealing a bargain? he wondered. It didn’t seem entirely fair. I should get to scratch him back. He grinned to himself at the thought.

  The sky was grey to the east and still almost black to the west. Dawn was close, and he knew his mother would be waking in an hour or so. It was time to go, so he stepped off the porch and began to march west. In the summer, when the road was dry and the pass was free of snow, the journey to Branscombe took a little less than three days, but Will knew better than to attempt the road. There were bound to be Darrowan scouts watching it.

  He would have to stay in the forest as much as possible, until it thinned out as the land rose into the mountains. He would only approach the road itself when he got close to the narrow part of the pass, where there simply wasn’t another option. If the Darrowans had placed sentries there, he’d have to figure out how to get past them when the time came.

  Given that he wouldn’t be using the road, his travel would take twice as long, at least until he cleared the pass, and even after that, the snow would slow him down. His best guess was that it would take him a week to reach Branscombe, and he only had enough food to last about three days.

  It was also cold and would be colder still in the pass itself. A normal trip to Branscombe involved three days of travel and two nights camping on the road, but he didn’t have the gear for camping in cold weather. He’d probably freeze to death if he tried.

  The solution to both his food problem and the problem of camping was simple: he wouldn’t camp. There would be a half-moon that night, and it was waxing, so it would continue to grow for another week. With clear skies, he should have enough light. He’d travel through the day and continue at night. With luck he would reach the narrow part of the pass at night, making it easier to avoid whatever sentries might be there. By not resting he could keep himself warm and cut his travel time nearly in half. It was the perfect plan, or so he thought.

  Will only had a small amount of uncertainty, which, as always, spoke with his grandfather’s voice, Only a fucking idiot would try crossing the mountains at night during the winter.

  “Which is why they’ll never expect it,” said Will, arguing with himself.

  His inner doubt didn’t reply, but he could sense it quietly cussing in the background. The years with Arrogan had left their mark on him. He’d probably never be normal, but hopefully he could conceal his oddness from others when he joined the army.

  The journey through the Glenwood was harder than he had expected. The new snow concealed the ground, causing him to trip over unseen limbs and other detritus. It also made it harder to spot low spots and holes that became more common as he got into rockier terrain. His staff quickly became indispensable as he used it to maintain his balance and check the ground ahead.

  In the late afternoon, things got easier. The sun warmed his back, making him almost uncomfortably warm. He was forced to remove the heavy cloak to avoid sweating and making his clothes damp. The forest thinned out, and the terrain became easier to traverse. The snow was thin here, so he increased his speed to a jog. He was already beginning to tire, but his training had given him tools to deal with that. Will first expanded his turyn, drawing in more from the air around him, then contracted it, concentrating it in his lungs and the muscles of his legs to increase his stamina and endurance.

  He knew from past experience that he could run for a long time using tricks like that, but he’d never done so for more than a half an hour before. There would probably be a price to pay when he stopped, but that was all right. He could rest when he reached Branscombe.

  Thirty minutes into his jog, he stepped into a hole and nearly twisted his ankle. The reflexes he had developed from a lifetime of playing in the forest saved him, taking his weight off the foot that had nothing beneath it and bending his knee before it hit bottom. After he had regained his footing and moved on, he glanced back. “Anyone else would have been in serious trouble,” he said, congratulating himself.

  Fool’s luck, warned his inner voice.

  “Shut up,” he told himself, resuming his journey, though he stopped jogging.

  He was moving steadily uphill now, so his fatigue grew quickly, and his muscles began to feel heavy. The thinning air di
dn’t help. Will increased the turyn in his lungs, but they still burned from taking in so much cold air.

  Night fell as he entered the mountains. He stopped to eat a carrot, for his hunger was so great he thought he might be starving to death. It didn’t do much to satisfy him, so he made a brief attempt at starting a fire.

  Though his body was warm, his hands were cold and clumsy. The wood he found was coated with snow and ice. It didn’t take him long to realize he wouldn’t succeed. Making a fire in these conditions is a skill, one you don’t have—moron, said his inner voice.

  Ignoring the voice, Will took out his waterskin and took a drink. He was surprised to find that it was empty after only a couple of swallows. Had he been drinking that much? He knew better than to try eating snow, though it was tempting, so he spent some time packing snow in the small opening of his waterskin. It seemed to take forever, but hopefully it would melt while he traveled.

  He was only getting colder, so he got back on his feet and started walking again, which was harder than he expected. After the short rest, his legs had gotten stiff and they now felt as though they were made of lead. At a guess he had been traveling for about fourteen hours. How bad would it be the next day?

  His fatigue made the tricky terrain even more dangerous, so he began moving closer to the road, where it was more even. It was less than a quarter-mile from where he was, and wasn’t even truly a road anymore, so much as a relatively clear and well-traveled path. The snow made it hard to even tell exactly where the road was, and he fell several times when his feet encountered unexpected rocks.

  He focused his turyn once more, strengthening his legs and lungs, but it took longer this time. Even his turyn seemed sluggish, unwilling to respond, though he wasn’t sure why. Fatigue eats away at your will even faster than performing magic, said his inner advisor. Was that something his grandfather had told him before, or was his imagination working overtime?

  Gritting his teeth, Will kept moving. “I don’t need your advice,” he told himself.