The Dragon & the Alpine Star

by Allison Norfolk

  “Certainly. I thought you might be back so I made some extra. If you want to put a regular order in I can always keep some in stock for when you need it,” Frau Beck replied. She took a moment to stretch out her back from hunching over her work—a bad habit she really needed to work on breaking—and made her way over to a cupboard where she kept ready-made remedies to sell to people who walked in. “And how are your children?”

  “Growing like weeds,” said Signora Fiorello with a roll of her eyes. “I seem to let out Guiletta’s dress hems every week, and I can’t keep Antonio in trousers no matter what I do.”

  “I remember that age,” said Frau Beck, smiling fondly. Her eyes strayed to the mantel, where her only photo of Karl, stiff and proud in his uniform, looked back at her. “Perhaps you should consider feeding them less.”

  Signora Fiorello looked taken aback, and then she realized Frau Beck was joking. “Ah, how you tease, Frau Beck. For a moment I thought you were serious. I’d be willing to try it if I thought it would work.”

  Frau Beck laughed. “There’s no power in the world that can stop children from growing up.” She glanced at the photo again, and then away.

  Signora Fiorello didn’t notice the turn in her mood. “At least with the spring weather coming on there will be more to eat than preserves, mutton, and noodles day after day.”

  “True. Very true.” Frau Beck shook herself and pulled her mind out of the past. Signora Fiorello’s remarks had reminded her that she needed to take a trip up into the mountains to replenish her wild herb supply sometime in the near future. A few things that she’d gathered before the heavy snows set in were starting to run quite low.

  She pulled down the jar of ointment from its shelf in the cupboard, passed it over, and received payment in exchange. “Grazie.”

  “Ciao,” Signora Fiorello nodded cheerfully and departed.

  Frau Beck sank into a chair, eyes vacantly staring at a point next to the front door but her thoughts far away again. One hand rubbed her flat middle in an unconscious reflexive gesture, though it had been many years since her son had been protected there. And she was far from the hopeful girl she’d been, naively looking forward to his birth and then the many more children she’d have with her adored husband. The gray streaking its way through her tightly braided dark brown hair and the fine lines on her forehead were testament to the life she’d lived since that fateful autumn and how much more than a husband she’d lost in that time. Most people who met her thought her much older than her actual age of forty. Usually she was happy to encourage their perception, fitting comfortably into the stereotype of wise old widow as much as her mentor Frau Heller ever had.

  She wasn’t sure how long she sat there, staring at nothing, before she realized those strawberry leaves weren’t going to grind themselves. She had been hoping to make a paste that would cure coughs when applied to the chest before the end of today for one of the poorer families in town. The children had all come down with a hacking cough at the same time.

  No sooner had she stood up and moved back to the table, however, when another knock sounded at the door. This one came from much lower down on the door and was a much higher tap, and it was also more frantic than Signora Fiorello’s. Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat, it almost sounded like a woodpecker.

  Frau Beck opened the door and saw a blond boy of about eight in the garb of a shepherd standing there. His grimy face bore a few streaks under the eyes that indicated tears. He sniffled as he stood there, his breath coming in panting gasps.

  Knowing from experience that she would get nothing coherent out of a boy so small and agitated until he had some time to calm down, Frau Beck smiled benevolently and swung the door wide. “Come in, come in. Come and sit down, and tell me all about it.”

  “Please—” the boy began in German. His throat closed, he squeaked, and then took a breath and tried again. “You have to come—” His breath gave out again.

  “Now, this won’t do. Come in and we’ll sort everything out.” She gestured invitingly.

  He stumbled a few steps forward onto the rug she kept before the door. Frau Beck went to the sink and drew a ceramic mug of water, into which she poured just a pinch of herbs and added a dash of power. Then she knelt before the boy and held the cup to his lips. “Drink.”

  He shook his head and leaned away. “My great-aunt says you’re a witch and you’ll turn us into something awful.”

  “Pfff. Nonsense, boy. Why would I do that? I only want to help.” Frau Beck turned the cup and took a sip for herself. Her own nerves steadied further at the touch of the magic she’d placed on it. She held it out again. “See? It’s perfectly safe. No one would drink their own poison, if I meant to poison you. I just put a few mint and lemon verbena leaves in it to make it taste better.”

  Reluctantly, the boy took a tiny sip. He scrunched up his face and waited a few seconds, but when nothing bad happened he consented to another, deeper draft. His breathing slowed as the magic did its work and within a few gulps he was able to take the cup from her with fingers that no longer shook and finish it. She took it back, put it in the sink, and said, “Now, let’s have it. What is your name?”

  “Karl.”

  Her heart stabbed, and she hid a wince. Of course there were many other Karls in the world, but the sound of the name still hurt. “Karl. What brings you to my door in such a state?”

  “My cousin Hans. We took the sheep up to one of the low meadows today, and we were playing. He caught his leg and twisted it. His foot is—” Karl’s face turned a pale green at the memory, and his gulped hard. “I saw it. His foot is…backward. I didn’t know where else to come. Hans didn’t want me to get the doctor, because he’s sure the doctor will take the foot off, and—” Karl swallowed back renewed sobs, not even the minor spell on the water able to fully contain his terror. “They say you’re a witch, but my mother told my great-aunt she’s only ever heard of you helping folk, like my cousin Elsie when her baby wouldn’t come, and if you were a witch and not just smart about herbs then you must be a good one.”

  “Hush. I’m glad you came to me. I’ll see what I can do.” Frau Beck first fetched him another cup of spelled water, to continue to take the edge off his panic. Then she went to the basket she always kept prepared, sorting through its contents with deft fingers to see if she might need anything else that wasn’t already packed. Everything in it was, of course, fresh and ready to be used for whatever spell she required. Based on the boy’s description, she thought she had what she needed, though as an afterthought she added a small bottle of home-brewed cherry schnapps a previous client had traded her in exchange for services. The liquor they brewed in these mountains tended to be potent, and if Cousin Hans was not already insensible with pain and shock the liquor would help keep him quiet while she worked.

  “Come, let’s go,” she said.

  They went out the door to Frau Beck’s apartment together, and made it through the streets at a steady trot that continued up one of the many trails that led away from town and into the mountains. Snow and slush were still everywhere, but green poked out bravely here and there so it was no wonder the bolder shepherds were starting to move their flocks in search of early spring grazing.

  Karl led the way, though Frau Beck caught a few impressed glances back at her when he saw she was keeping pace with him without getting too badly out of breath even in the thin mountain air. She was in good condition from her own mountain rambles, and one of the not-unwelcome effects of people thinking that she was older than she was meant that she appeared almost miraculously spry if anyone saw her doing anything physical. It added to her air of mystique; she didn’t really care whether people thought she was a witch or not if it meant they came to her for remedies. She liked to keep them guessing and confused.

  The meadow Karl led her to was one of the lowest near town; by summer the grazing would be largely picked over but now more than half was still concealed by snow. The sheep scattered around it were a slightly creamier sha
de of white rather than the blinding white of the snow. On the edge of the meadow, propped on a boulder that stood about shoulder-high on the relatively short Frau Beck, was a boy a little older than Karl, perhaps fifteen. As they got closer she saw that they looked enough alike that they could have been brothers rather than cousins.

  Hans was conscious, though white as a sheet and glassy-eyed with shock. Someone thoughtful had put a handkerchief over the injured foot so he didn’t have to stare at it. He was also wrapped snugly in the thick blanket the boys must have brought to sit on, though he was still shivering.

  He glared at Karl when they were close enough to speak without shouting. “You idiot. I told you I didn’t want—” Then he got a closer look at who had accompanied his cousin up the mountain. “You’re not a doctor. You’re the one…they say…is a witch.” He didn’t look particularly reassured.

  “I am Frau Beck. And you must be Hans,” she said, kneeling beside him. She lifted the handkerchief in such a way that the victim himself still couldn’t see what lay beneath it, and saw that Karl had not exaggerated about the severity of the injury. She nodded, keeping her face calm; she could feel him waiting for her reaction. “This will take some doing, so we’d best get started.”

  “C-can you—?” he stuttered.

  “Perhaps. We’ll have to see. For now, I need you to take a few deep breaths and relax. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Karl, go into the woods and find me the pinkest flower you can.”

  “Yes, Frau!” he said, and took off like a shot. Frau Beck smiled after him. She didn’t really need the flower, but she needed him to not be hovering for what came next. Searching for an unspecific flower at this time of year would keep him occupied while she worked.

  “Here, drink a few good mouthfuls of this. If you can finish it, all to the better.” She pulled out the bottle of schnapps, added mint and lemon verbena to further calm him, and a pinch of turmeric to dull the pain and handed it to Hans. He took a big swig, choked, and nearly spat it out but managed to force himself to swallow. The next drink was more reluctant, but within seconds she could see his muscles begin to relax as the magic she’d put on the herbs worked. He lay back against the boulder and took another drink.

  “That feels…better? Somehow,” he said, his voice mildly surprised. Then he made the mistake of looking back at his foot, remembered what was beneath the handkerchief, and started to tense again.

  “Another swallow. Close your eyes if it helps, or look up at the sky if you start to get dizzy,” Frau Beck ordered, and when he had obeyed, she said, “Try to think of something else. Do you have a pretty girl you fancy?” His blush confirmed this, and she smiled. “Good. Tell me about her. Picture her in your mind and describe every detail as if she were standing in front of you.”

  While he talked, his words beginning to grow a little rambling and fuzzy as the strong alcohol took effect, she removed the handkerchief and set it aside, and took off the shoe and stocking with utmost delicacy. Then she took what packets of herbs she’d need from the basket and began to carefully combine them. This wasn’t an easy little cantrip like the relaxing one she’d used on both boys. The herbs for a spell of this power had to be in the correct proportions to one another and she had to use the right amount of each; this combined with her will concentrated on the specific, desired outcome was what caused the spell to work.

  Complicating matters was the fact that she’d never performed this exact spell before, though she had done similar ones over her years as a healer. A foot broken so badly it had turned nearly one hundred and eighty degrees was something she had not encountered, nor hoped ever to encounter again. Humans were amazing feats of a creator’s engineering, but they were also surprisingly delicate given the wrong set of circumstances.

  Children were also surprisingly resilient, especially ones who were still growing, and Hans had the peaky, bony look of a boy whose body had begun that final sprint to his full adult height. If she did this right, Hans probably wouldn’t even have a limp to show for this misadventure. And since there was no one else to witness, no one would be the wiser as to how extensively he had been repaired.

  When she had been younger and just out of her apprenticeship, trying a new spell like this, on the fly and untested, would have made her sweat. Now she just grimly pursed her lips and focused on measuring and mixing, until she had a full palmful of green paste. This she began to spread on the swollen, purple foot and ankle, concentrating on the spell as she did so. Once she’d covered the skin and the smell of the pungent herbs filled her nose until she could take no more, she grasped foot and heel in each hand and began to turn the foot back around.

  Hans broke off his garbled description. His eyes popped open and he stared as Frau Beck eased his foot into the correct position. “I think that should hurt, but…it doesn’t,” he whispered. “It just feels warm, and tingly. Like it fell asleep.”

  Frau Beck didn’t respond. All her thoughts were on holding the spell until she felt the slight ‘click’ of the bones settling back into their rightful places. She used the handkerchief to wipe off the green paste. Once it was all off, she gently probed the ankle.

  Hans hissed and tried to draw back. “Ow!”

  “The bones are still broken, but now they can heal,” Frau Beck said, nodding to herself. “You’re lucky nothing poked through the skin.” She pulled out a jar of ointment, this one ready-made, and spread it just on the joint. Then she bound everything tightly in clean bandages.

  The boy looked at her through hazy eyes, but what awareness was there was filled with awe. “You fixed it. You did magic.”

  “And tomorrow this will all seem like a bad dream,” she said. “You’ll still have a broken ankle, and you’ll have to stay off it for a few weeks, but you won’t lose the foot. It will be good as new, in the end.”

  “Thank you,” he whispered.

  “It’s what I do. I help anyone who’s hurting. That’s what being a hedgewitch means, in the end.” She smiled at him and smoothed his hair back. Then she rummaged in the basket until she found a different packet, this one of lavender. “Here, smell this. When you wake up, you’ll be in your own bed.”

  Utter trust on his young face, he leaned forward to inhale. She added her power, and just as he started to smile and say, “That smells nice—” his eyelids drooped and in seconds he was sound asleep.

  Frau Beck tucked the blanket more tightly around him and settle back against the boulder to wait for Karl to return from his wild flower-hunt. Once the younger boy reappeared, they would round up the sheep and bring them all back home to Brig. But in the meantime, she could enjoy the cool mountain air. It was one of the few things that ever truly relaxed her, and helped her let go of the painful memories that still threatened to drag her down and haunted her every unguarded moment.

  She glanced at the boy sleeping beside her, his head drifting inexorably towards her shoulder, and wondered with an unhappy jolt when her own sleep had been so peaceful. She couldn’t remember, no matter how she tried.

  Chapter 3

  A few days later, Frau Beck shouldered a big basket pack woven of wide strips of tree bark, adjusted the heavy woolen shawl draped over her head and around her shoulders one last time, and prepared to leave her flat. She was headed up into the higher reaches of the mountains surrounding Brig for a few days to gather wild early spring plants; her efforts should last until the middle of the summer as long as no serious fevers or coughs swept through town.

  In the pack were all the supplies and food she would need, and as she ate the food there would be more room for the herbs and flowers she gathered. She had never learned to use a weapon beyond wielding a sharp knife for cooking and cutting up herbs, but in her pockets she carried a few dried herb mixes that when thrown on an opponent would yield some nasty surprises, and she could also cast spells to keep herself warm should an unexpected snowstorm blow up. So she did not feel unsafe wandering the high mountains alone. She had done it in every kind o
f weather all the previous year since settling permanently in Brig.

  She considered also casting a spell on herself that would let her pass through the town invisibly, but decided against it. It would not hurt to be seen heading up into the mountains and the pack would make her errand obvious. It also wouldn't hurt to be neighborly. Accordingly, she stepped out into the sunshine and took a deep breath of fresh air. As always, the sharp, fresh scent of the mountains worked to relax her.

  The walk into the center of town was pleasant. Several people who had bought remedies from her waved before returning to whatever task they had been at. The town center's square was bustling with the usual market, and a train had just arrived, disgorging its passengers into the already decent-sized crowd. Frau Beck disappeared among them, not even her big, bulky pack making her stand out much.

  At the edge of the square, she paused. A young woman, no more than sixteen, sat tucked into a corner there. A bowl sat in front of her, making her purpose obvious. Most people hurried by without a glance, but when she saw Frau Beck looking she gave a wan smile.

  “Good morning, Kristina,” said Frau Beck, coming close enough to converse.

  “Good morning, Frau Beck,” she returned.

  “How fares your grandmother today?” asked Frau Beck.

  “Last night was not good,” the girl admitted. “I had to stop her from putting on her coat and going out several times. She thought it was time for market, and we ran out of that calming medicine you gave me that helps her mind rest.”

  “You can always come ask for more,” Frau Beck said, though she already knew what the response would be.

  “I can't pay, Frau,” said Kristina, weary and snappish at the same time. “And I don't like to take more charity than I already do.” She glanced pointedly at the bowl.