by Jen Pretty
"Of course," I replied, picking up the empty tray and turning to return to the kitchen.
"Oh, and Morgan. You will have to sell your horse while you are there to pay for the cow."
I stopped in the doorway and looked back, but the old woman had already returned to her needlepoint and gossiping.
There was no way I would sell Copper. I would find a way to make some money for a stupid cow.
**
That day at lunch, I slipped into Margarette's room and sat quietly on the bed. The woman's eyes were closed, her head tipped back on the chair, but her foot pressed off the floor repeatedly, keeping her chair rocking with a mournful squeak.
"Begin, child," Margarette said, her eyes remained closed and her foot continued to rock the chair back and forth.
I picked up the book she had left on the end of the bed. It was a different book. The cover was stained black and a gold swirl adorned it. I hadn't read through even a quarter of the first book. My reading was slow and painful. I had no idea why the old woman wanted me to learn to read, but I was sure it wasn't to entertain her. Darla knew how to read better than I and could probably have finished the first book by now. I was still frightened enough of the old woman, that I didn't ask her questions. Particularly not one about the night of the fire.
"M-A-G-I-C," I spelled the word. I had never seen this one before.
"Magic," Margarette said in a low voice.
I dropped the book and stood so fast, I saw stars in my vision. "I can't read that," I said.
Margarette finally opened her pale eyes and looked at me. "It is your birthright. Now read."
"What does that mean?" I asked, leaving the book on the floor.
Margarette laughed. The sound much like the first night I had accidentally walked into her room. A manic laugh that scratched at my ears--more a warning than joy.
I took a step towards the door.
"Sit down and read!" The woman's voice was stern now and my knees buckled against my will.
I scrambled the book up off the floor and cracked open the spine. Whispering, I repeated the word Margarette had spoken. "Magic." The next word I recognized, though I knew it wasn't the same use of the word as I knew it. "Spells."
Glancing up at Margarette, she had a soft smile on her face as if the word had pleased her.
"Do you do magic, Lady Margarette?" I asked, my voice so soft I barely heard it.
"Hmm, a woman must do what she must. Now continue reading, child."
"Magic spells. One must be C-A-U-T-I-O-U-S."
"Cautious," Margarette filled in for me.
"Oh yes, I am sure that is true." I had thought little on magic, but I knew that the Christians believed that magic users were dark born and must be cleansed from the earth. I felt unclean even holding the book, though I wasn't raised as a Christian.
"Have you heard of Avalon, Morgan?"
Of course, I had heard whispers, but it sounded like stories, not truth.
"When I am gone, you will travel there. You will run and never look back. Until then, read." She closed her eyes again, letting her foot rock out a rhythm that set a beat for my reading. I knew more words every day, as if my mind was practicing even when I slept or worked. But I didn't understand just how dangerous it was to read that book, in that cramped bedroom on the third floor of the convent.
I could never regret meeting Margarette nor accepting the gift she gave me.
CHAPTER FIVE
Most of the sisters gave me a wide berth after that, but Bethel always seemed to be wherever I was.
"Pig pen, I thought Cook asked you to go get water today?" Bethel asked the next day while I was struggling to clean the floor in the sitting room.
"Yes, but Mother Superior asked me to clean the floors." I used the back of my arm to push the hair out of my face, but my arms were black to my elbows so I was sure I had smeared soot all over my face.
Sister Bethel shook her head. "Well, hurry or we won't have water for tea."
She turned on her heel and stomped out of the room, her heavy-soled shoes loud on the wood plank floor. I rolled my eyes, wishing not for the first time I had somewhere else to go.
The bucket and rag I was using to clean the floor were black, as were my hands and arms. I stood and adjusted my dress before grabbing the bucket and heading back toward the kitchen to exchange the grime bucket for the clean one used for water. The halls were empty as most women were going about their morning chores, but a voice in the hall ahead made me pause.
"She shouldn't be here," Bethel said in a harsh tone.
"She is just like any of us." I recognized Darla's voice too.
"Her mother conspired to murder her father. She comes from a vile family and shouldn't be allowed on holy grounds such as these."
I stumbled back, dropping my pail of dirty water. It soaked into the floorboards as I scrambled to right the pail and sop up the mess with the dirty cloths. I was making the mess bigger.
"Pig pen! Must you make a mess wherever you go?" Bethel's voice shrieked, drawing the other sisters to step into the hall from all directions.
"It was an accident," I said, wringing out the cloth into the bucket and then sopping up more black water.
"Just like the barn?" Bethel scoffed.
"What is going on here?" Mother Superior asked in a haughty tone. She gasped when she stepped close enough to see me hunched over on the floor in a black puddle. "I see you will miss lunch again today to clean up this mess," she said before turning away. "Back to work, sisters. Leave Morgan to her work."
Thankfully, they all moved away, down halls and through doors until it was just me and Mother Superior left in the cramped hallway.
"Sister Margarette has been asking for you all morning. When you are finished cleaning this mess, read to her, then be on your way to town. You will have to ride all night or camp in the woods, but you must return by morning with a new cow. I won’t go another day without milk."
"Yes, Mother Superior," I whispered to hold back the tears that burned at the corners of my eyes.
She made a humph sound and strode off down the hall. The scent of lavender followed in a trail behind her, increasing my awareness of my own foul smell. I hadn't bathed yet and even with my hair pulled up, I could still smell the acrid scent of the fire.
The tears pressed harder, but I didn't dare blink. I would not shed a tear for evil words spoken by an evil woman. Bethel had to have been lying. My mother would never have conspired to kill my father. My step-father sent me away when I was eight, not even a year after my mother remarried. I had no idea where my sisters had gone, but knew I would find them someday. I had vowed to find them.
"Morgan," a soft whisper reached my ears. I sat up and looked behind me, but no one was there.
"Morgan," the voice said again.
"Who's there?" I dropped the rag and rose to my feet, peering into the shadows at the end of the hall. I crept forward, checking the other rooms, but saw no one around.
"Morgan." the voice was coming from the stairs.
I crept forward, reaching out and placing my hand on the banister. I glanced briefly back at the bucket and dirty spot on the floor of the hall, then took the first cautious step up the stairs.
When I reached the top, I glanced up and down the hall, but no one was there. I paused for a moment and waited, but heard nothing. As soon as I turned to go back down the stairs, the voice came again.
"Morgan, come." It came from the third floor.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. I recognized the voice now, but it was ghostly and seemed to be echoing through the halls unnaturally.
My mind wanted to run in the other direction, but my feet disobeyed and started carrying me up the stairs to the third floor. At the top I turned towards Margarette's room and my legs didn't stop until I was standing outside her door. In slow motion, my hand reached out and pressed the latch before pressing open the door.
All the air left my lungs as I witnessed the
scene inside. Margarette was standing in the middle of her room. No, not standing, she was floating. Her feet were off the ground and her body seemed suspended by ropes, but there were none.
"What are you--"
"Finally," she said with a sigh. "I thought you would never come. Sit down, child."
I slipped into the room, closing the door behind me. I had never seen anyone use magic, but now it all came together. The book, the night of the fire, the voice. Margarette was a sorceress. "Oh, this is very bad," I whispered as I sat on the edge of the bed.
"No, child. It's your birthright. You must find Avalon. Learn all you need to know. The future depends on you."
Margarette's eyes were completely white now. Her hair moved like waves on the ocean.
"I don't understand," I said, my breaths coming in shallow and fast. I began to see sparks in my vision, but Margarette moved closer.
"Go to Avalon."
The door to the room burst open and Mother Superior gasped at the sight.
"MAGIC!" she hollered as the invisible strings holding Margarette up seemed to snap and she crumpled to the floor in a heap.
"No!" I called and fell to the floor beside her. I turned her head, but only a blank stare of death met me. "NO!" I cried again.
"You are a sorceress!" Mother Superior screamed.
I looked up and found her staring at me, her finger pointed in accusation.
"What? No, I'm not!" I said, but the woman's face had contorted into rage.
"We must burn you at the stake," she said with a sneer. "Sisters!" she called behind her. "She has been baptized by the devil!"
I raised my hands as Mother Superior charged at me.
"Befleogan," I cried. The word floating into my mind from one of the passages I had read in the book. The older woman flew backward as if a strong gust of wind had taken her. She slammed into the wall and I grabbed the book of magic before sprinting out of the room.
Several other sisters were climbing the stairs, but I bypassed the main stairs and ran to the back stairs that Cook used at mealtimes.
These stairs were steep and narrow, but I clambered down them to the sounds of angry voices and heavy boots on wood floors. I didn't stop at the kitchen, but crashed out the back door of the convent and raced through the courtyard. My heart was screaming in my chest and my legs burned with the sudden exertion, but I heeded Margarette's words. She had told me to run and never look back.
"Morgan, wait!" Darla's voice rang out behind me.
"I'm sorry!" I screamed, but didn't stop running.
My boots pounded across the stone courtyard to the outside gates, fumbling with the big lock.
"Where do you think you are going?" Bethel shoved me back from the gate, blocking my way. The voices grew louder behind me as the rest of the sisters approached.
"Move, Bethel! I have to go!"
"No demon! We must deal with you."
Bethel's hands clamped onto my arms and I struggled against her, but she was taller and stronger than me.
"Let me go!" I shrieked. A word floated into my mind and before I could stop myself, I had spoken it out loud. "Byrne."
Bethel screamed and fell to her knees. The scent of burning flesh singed my nose, but I didn't stop to see if she was okay. I stepped past her and slammed through the giant wooden door of the convent.
Running down the steps, I whistled loud and low. The responding whinny and thunder of hooves was the most welcome thing I had heard in a lifetime.
Copper's bright chestnut coat glittered in the midday sun as he raced out of the woods and slid to a halt before me. I scrambled onto his back and, with a quick glance behind me, kicked him into a gallop, wrapping my hands in his mane and hanging on for dear life.
CHAPTER SIX
Copper’s sides heaved and his neck foamed with sweat as we beat along the path that led away from the convent. My heart raced and my mind swam as I clutched the bright ginger mane in one hand and the book I had taken from Margarette's room in the other. Had they really accused me of being a sorceress? I thought back over the moments before I left the convent. The words I had used to fight off Mother Superior and Bethel. I had learned those words in the book, but there was no reason for them to work.
I shook my head. People were born with magic, they either had it or didn't. If I had magic, I would have known by now.
"Whoa, Copper," I said as we reached the fork in the path. I didn't want to stop at the town closest to the convent in case the sisters came out to look for me, so I nudged Copper in the other direction. I had no idea what towns were to the south, but I hadn't forgotten Margarette's instructions to find Avalon. Of course, Avalon could be anywhere in the south. I would need to find someone to travel with soon, but my priority had to be to ride as far as I could.
Copper traveled at an easy trot for a while, his sides still heaving from the speed at which he had run. I slid my hand down his neck, slicking the sweat off.
"Thank you, boy," I whispered.
He shook his head and snorted, making me laugh. We entered a dense forest, the path weaving through tall pine trees. The branches down low were thin and bare, but at the canopy, the trees crowded together to black out the sun. Small birds hopped through the branches and Copper’s hooves disturbed grouse and pheasants from the underbrush lining the path. Otherwise it was silent and still in the forest.
I let Copper choose the path for most of the day as I studied the book of magic. I tried to sound out the complicated words, probably making a mess of them, but it was something to do.
Copper stepped off the path at one point and down an embankment to a small stream where he dropped his head and slurped noisily at the water.
I slipped from this back and set the book on a fallen tree before crouching down at the edge of the stream. Cupping my hands, I sipped at the fresh cool liquid, then splashed some on my face. The middle of the stream was still shallow, but I lifted the hem of my skirt and kicked off my boots before taking a few tentative steps into the water. It felt so good that I wanted to go for a swim. If the water had been deeper, I would have, but I felt too exposed that close to the path and uncomfortable in an unknown area. Instead, I returned to the shore where Copper was quietly grazing on the lush grass.
I sat on the fallen tree trunk beside the book and let my bare feet swing above the grass as I skimmed through the book again to the page I had been reading.
"The use of magic must not be h-i-n-d-e-r-e-d..." I glanced up at Copper as if he could tell me the word.
He shook flies from his head and went back to grazing on the lush grass.
I continued, "by those that s-seek to limit its power." I was impressed by my own reading skills. It seemed like I had been reading for years, not just days. I flipped forward to the middle of the book where all the long, complicated words were--like the one I had used to escape Mother Superior and sister Bethel. None of those words were familiar, but one caught my eye as I scanned the page.
"Byrne..." I sounded out the word in a soft whisper, then thought for a moment. "Byrne."
A small flame flicked to life at my feet.
Copper jumped back, startled, and snorted at the small fire.
"Whoa!" I said, pulling my skirt and feet up onto the tree trunk. The flame didn't grow, it just flickered on the forest floor. "I did it!" I had used magic purposely. Maybe I was a sorceress and just never knew. That seemed the most likely reason I could use magic.
I leapt down from my seat and splashed water onto the small fire which sputtered out, then I swung up onto Copper's back and pressed him back towards the trail. I needed to find Avalon and learn to use magic properly.
As Copper reached the trail, my stomach made a loud grumble, reminding me I hadn't eaten yet today. I had no idea how to find food in the forest, but if we came upon a village, perhaps I could find some work for food and shelter for the night. A single woman travelling alone shouldn't sleep in the forest with the Saxons about. I had heard stories of their savagery.
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Copper stepped up into a light trot, his hooves echoing off the forest floor as if it was hollow. I clutched the book, wishing I had pants and pockets or a pack to carry it in.
We travelled the path out of the forest and eventually the flat ground became hilly again. Then it grew more and more rocky, until we were climbing around cliffs and outcroppings. Copper had been shod before I left for the convent, but I heard the sound no horseman wanted to hear. The ping and thunk of one of his shoes catching on a rock and coming off.
"Whoa," I said, and he stopped on the path. I slid off and checked his hoof. It was damaged on one side from the nails pulling free. I knew it wouldn't be long, on this unforgiving footing, before he was lame.
After back tracking to grab the shoe, I walked beside Copper as we climbed the steep hill. Copper's gentle nose occasionally brushed my side as we walked and I would reach up to scratch his whither.
The sun set as we crested the peak of the hill, so it was a while longer before I noticed small flickers of light at the bottom. It could have been the moon dancing off puddles, but when I saw one flicker moves in a straight line, I came to the only conclusion.
"There must be a town," I said to Copper. He shook his head, and we both strode down the hill. I hoped there was a blacksmith and my loud stomach hoped to find some food.
CHAPTER SEVEN
By the time we reached the bottom of the rocky hill, Copper was limping. I clutched his useless shoe in my hand, wishing I had been a blacksmith's son instead of a duke's daughter. It was late, and I doubted the blacksmith, if there was one, would still be in the shop, but if I could find a nice place for Copper to stay overnight, he would be okay till morning. A soft bed of straw would be all he needed.
I still held the book of magic, so finally I tried tucking it in to the waistband of my skirt. It was bulky, but seemed secure there.
