Deep Magic - First Collection

by Jeff Wheeler

  Danai refused to think of herself as beautiful. When she was a child, she always felt beautiful, in part because her mother’s compliments were effusive. Mother always praised her for her golden hair and gorgeous eyes. Danai believed her at the time because Mother was a beautiful woman. She too had blond hair and blue eyes. She too had a dimple in her left cheek. The biggest difference beyond the gentle wear of years was that Danai’s younger face bore a smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks. Mother had promised those would fade by the time Danai became a woman.

  Mother had not been right about the freckles fading; however, Danai believed her beauty had faded—her hair seemed paler, her eyes less dazzling. Even her dimple now looked too deep to be pretty. Danai wondered how much of the way she had viewed herself as a girl was shaped by her mother, or if she had truly been prettier as a child. Certainly a person’s looks can change, but she felt that was one more unfortunate turn of events that followed the summer her mother died. She knew she was not ugly, but believed most people would describe her as plain or pleasant. Neither term was what a young woman strived to hear.

  She decided right then that if she was going to meet this handsome soldier, it would not be as grubby or smelly as she then was. She might not turn all of the young men’s heads in the valley, but that did not mean she would stop trying to look her best.

  Merdrid hustled in front of Danai and whispered as she went by, “Slip out the back and get cleaned up. We can talk more later.”

  With another quick glance at the man in uniform, Danai sighed and did as she was bid, sincerely happy the shop had a back door.

  Danai would not want to admit it, but she sprinted the two cobblestone blocks to her home tucked behind the town well. She almost forgot how weak the front door was and nearly broke it off its hinges as she bounded into the small main room.

  “Father!” Danai dropped onto the stool next to her father and held his hand.

  He startled from sleep, and looked at her through drooping eyelids.

  Danai could see his concern. “I have great news! Do not worry. The poultice will be ready tonight, but that’s not even the best part.” She smiled and waited to make sure his eyes confirmed that he was alert and listening to her. Satisfied, she went on. “Merdrid hinted that she may have found a cure or at least a more effective treatment for the plague.” She reconsidered whether she should have told him about the possible cure, but decided she was right to give him a little hope. This way, he could be ready to talk about the possible cure when the poultice was ready that night. She also thought about telling him of the handsome soldier, but decided to keep that bit of news to herself.

  Father’s eyes closed for a moment and he seemed to shake his head from side to side. Danai decided he must be overwhelmed, as she was, at the hope of a cure. She stood and pulled her hand from his. “I need to clean up and hurry back to the shop. Merdrid needs me.” She poured the remaining water from their bucket into the pot and stoked the wood-burning stove to at least take the chill off. “I will fetch fresh water to fill the tub and get you a drink while the pot heats.”

  Several minutes later, the tub was a little more than a quarter full and the water in the pot was at least not cold. Danai helped her father sip down a glass of water, smiling and telling him about her climb that morning. It would have taken a full pot of boiling water to make the tub temperature comfortable, but Danai could not wait that long. After she added the water from the pot, the tub water went from icy to frigid. At least she would stop sweating. She pulled the curtain for privacy and made quick work of the task. She had taken colder baths before, but they had been accidental and involved mountain springs.

  Before leaving, Danai changed her father’s bed pot and helped him take a few more sips of water. She brushed long strands of graying brown hair back from his eyes and felt the heat coming off his forehead. He had a low fever, which was not unusual, so Danai ground some bitter bark into his water and helped him drink. It was not a high fever. She had long experienced his conditions and knew which signs should cause her to worry. This fever would likely respond to the bitter bark within a few minutes. She felt guilty about leaving, but could not get the image of the handsome soldier out of her mind. Besides, she had a hunger to know more about Merdrid’s cure.

  Danai kissed her father gently on the forehead and promised to be back by evening. She grabbed a hard roll to eat on the way and rushed out the front door like a rabbit with a coyote on her tail.

  Danai swallowed the last of the roll as she ducked into the narrow dirt alley leading to the back of Merdrid’s shop. Her blond hair pulled back into a tight ponytail dripped down her back, soaking a circle on her blouse. She regretted not taking a little time to dry it after the bath. At least she smelled fresh, like the soap Merdrid gave her for her birthday last year. Jinderberries and honeyblossom. Merdrid was going to tease her mercilessly. Danai only used the sweet-smelling soap on special occasions, and with her birthday coming tomorrow, she would likely get a fresh cake of the special soap. Danai peered through the window in the back door, hoping to see the handsome soldier, while she caught her breath. Instead, she saw Merdrid crumpled on the floor by her worktable.

  Merdrid sobbed. The sound halted Danai and broke her heart. The sweet, grandmotherly woman who had cared for Danai and her father for the past five years had been a rock. Danai placed a gentle hand on Merdrid’s back and knelt beside her. For a minute, Merdrid’s body shook with sobs, and Danai consoled her without words.

  Finally, Merdrid looked up, eyes swollen and red, cheeks wet and shiny. “I have failed you, Sis.”

  Confused, Danai scooted to where she could see Merdrid better. “You’ve never failed me, Merdrid. What happened?”

  “The soldier and the emissary.” Her voice quavered as she struggled to put words together. “They came on a mission from King Evenricht. They took it.”

  Danai patted Merdrid’s leg and leaned in. “What did they take?”

  The older woman took a deep, stuttered breath. “My mortar.”

  Danai cocked her head to the left. “Is that all?”

  “Yes.”

  “You must have another mortar in the shop. If not, we can get another from the merchant.” Danai used her best comforting voice, one she might use if she was coaxing a wayward goat into a pen.

  “You don’t understand, Danai.” Merdrid’s tears were now flowing from eyes that showed anger and loss. “Without that mortar, many of my potions, powders, and poultices will lose their effect.”

  The last of her words lingered in Danai’s mind. She just sat there, going numb at the thought that her father’s poultice would not work. “But why is that mortar so important?”

  “I was going to explain this to you before your birthday tomorrow, and I feel horrible that this is how you found out.” Merdrid’s eyes released their tinge of anger and showed nothing but compassion toward Danai. “My recipes are sound, and the cures and crafts I make would be of high quality without the mortar, but some of them require something more than herbs, roots, and berries provide.”

  Merdrid continued. “The mortar is made of a special stone that came from a very rare and deep mine—the mine caved in a very long time ago. The stone that was found is called by several names: hearthstone, bloodstone, oathstone, and mantle rock. It has the power to bind people to their oaths and give power to those who vow to use it for their promised purpose. This power is called, vivos sanguine in an old tongue, or vosang, for short. It means ‘life blood.’ ”

  Voice quivering, Merdrid went on. “The truth of the stone remains unknown to most, but not to the emissary and his protector. The king sent them to gather any remnants of that stone and hold it in a treasury to add to the king’s wealth. Unfortunately, where it is now going, it cannot help people who are in dire need. Like your father.”

  There it was—the fear carving a hole in Danai’s heart, put into words. It was an old wound that was tearing open. Danai’s eyes blurred with her own tear
s.

  “Oh, Sis. I am so sorry. You must think I am a fraud. I am embarrassed that I needed something beyond my own abilities to help my patrons.” Merdrid looked away and crossed her arms tightly. Silence loomed for many long seconds. Merdrid continued. “I didn’t want to let them take it, but they threatened to arrest any who stood in their way or prevented them from taking the bloodstone. I was so afraid that I did nothing to stop them.”

  A wave of darkness and despair threatened to overwhelm Danai, but what kept it at bay was the image of her father lying on his bed, suffering from fever, and straining in vain to talk to her. She would stay strong for him, at least until all hope was gone. “I will get it back for you.” Danai’s words were dry and brittle like old parchment.

  Merdrid coughed out a little laugh. “Danai, I wish you could, but they will already be heading south to the highlands of Gretford. I overheard the young man tell the older that the horses were ready. Even as fast as your feet are, they cannot keep up with the king’s horses.”

  Danai thought a moment. “The highland road winds its way through the cedar woods on the east slope of the valley. That way will take them the rest of the day to reach the rim of the highlands to our south.” Danai wiped the wetness from her own cheeks, relieved that the plan in her mind had somehow stopped the tears.

  Merdrid shook her head gently. “Even if you follow them on foot, it will take you until midmorning tomorrow to reach the rim. By then, they will be farther down the road. Besides, the soldier wasn’t alone. He had a knot of five others with him. No doubt they will be watching the road behind. Even if you did catch them, how would you wrestle the mortar away?”

  Danai offered a weak smile. “The answer to the first problem solves the second. At least I hope so. If I climb the table steppe on the southern slope, and continue over the face of the rim, I could be there by an hour after nightfall. Well, if I leave right away, I could.” Merdrid shook her head, but Danai continued. “I have made the climb many times and know it well enough to finish the ascent in the dark. The solution this plan offers is that it places me in the roadway beyond the shelter of the tall pines. It seems unlikely the men would camp out in the open of the highlands when they have tall, sheltering pines to protect them from the vicious winds that abuse anyone who lingers on the long plateau. They will be watching the road behind them, but might pay less attention to someone coming from the road ahead.”

  Merdrid labored to stand, pulling herself up with the help of a firm grip on the worktable. It wobbled a little, but held together. She shuffled slowly toward a high shelf holding a row of bottles of various sizes. She reached up on her tiptoes to grab a slender red bottle with a cork stopper. “I’m a fool to let you go. But I know how stubborn you can be. Besides, your interest in this matter is every bit as important as my own.” Merdrid grunted a little as she turned, and favored her left knee. “I might as well offer what help I can.” She held the bottle out to Danai.

  Danai had asked about the bottles before and had received little information for her queries. “What is this?”

  “That particular elixir will help you get into camp unseen and get out safely as well. It has a powerful memory block, so none of them should remember seeing you if they do catch a glimpse. I warn you that your own memory might also be shaded. Unfortunately, it won’t help you find the mortar, so that part of the job will be up to you.”

  Danai gripped the cork stopper to pull it free.

  Merdrid yelped. “Not now, girl! There is one dose in that bottle and you want to drink it no more than ten minutes before entering the camp, which will give the potion long enough to take effect. Mind you, those effects will only last for a couple hours, so you must be sure when you drink it you are ready.”

  Danai could feel the blood flush her cheeks. “Sorry, Merdrid.” She was ready to sprint up the face of the southern steppe. Then, she remembered her father. What she was doing was dangerous, and if she failed, they both were in dire trouble. She wanted to tell him good-bye, but knew if she went home, she would only worry him. Still, he was expecting her to be home that evening with the poultice. Even if she succeeded in recovering the mortar, she would not return until morning. He would need help before then.

  “Sis, I can see your thoughts linger with your father. That is one of your tender strengths.” Merdrid’s weak smile comforted Danai, who was just glad to see the older woman had stopped crying herself. Merdrid continued. “I will visit him with supper and sit with him while you are away.”

  Danai thought her eyes were getting plenty of water today. “Thanks.” She choked out.

  A few minutes later, Danai set a fast pace to the south, shouldering her pack, with a full waterskin at her hip.

  * * *

  Shortly after dusk, when the few street lamps in the sparsely populated Brasin valley had begun to flicker, Merdrid waddled up the cobblestone roadway to the shanty where Danai and her father lived. She carried a maplewood bucket with too many cracks to be watertight, which held a bowl of soup on bottom and a napkin full of rolls on top. After a perfunctory knock (Merdrid knew Danai’s father could not respond, much less get up to answer the door), she entered. The home was pitiful. Small, adorned with furniture that seemed to stay upright by force of will alone, and smelling of illness. She reached a stubby-fingered hand into one of her several belt pouches and flung a large pinch of powder into the air. The powder ignited into a sizzle of sparks that quickly dissipated. Although the powder seemed gone, the smell of lilacs lingered in its place. Merdrid nodded contentedly.

  “Well, well, Haimer. You are looking rather ill tonight.” She said in a matter-of-fact tone.

  Haimer lay in bed, eyes open and wary. His mouth tried to move and muscles in his neck strained, but words and sound failed him.

  “Fret not, good man. I am here because Danai is on an errand for me. We had a run of unfortunate luck this afternoon that required her help to make it right.” Merdrid sat the bucket on a table near Danai’s father and pulled the items out one at a time. “I promised her I would bring you dinner and explain that she would be out late tonight.” Merdrid sat on a stool, but it groaned loudly enough that she put it aside and knelt on the floor near Haimer’s head. “I won’t be surprised if she is not back before you fall asleep for the night.”

  Tears leaked from Haimer’s eyes and he squirmed in the bed.

  “Steady. Don’t worry so. Danai will be home tomorrow morning when you wake up, I have no doubt. Trust me when I assure you that I have a very keen interest in that young woman. Almost as keen as yours.” Merdrid’s smile did little to comfort the man. She pulled a spoon from the bottom of the bucket and dipped it into the creamy soup. As she waited a moment for the soup to cool, she said, “Once Danai is back, we will complete the poultice, and then you can have a nice visit with her.” Steam still wafted up from the spoon as Merdrid lowered it to Haimer’s mouth. Her other hand gently steadied his shaking chin, and she smoothly slid the spoon in and tipped it up.

  Haimer’s shaking slowed a little and his eyes relaxed.

  “Did you expect my cooking to taste foul? Perhaps I should be offended.” Merdrid chuckled at the man. “One doesn’t get so portly as this without knowing how to make food that tastes good.” Merdrid turned sideways on one knee to exaggerate her girth.

  The more spoonfuls she put in, the more content, then tired, his eyes seemed. Merdrid chewed on a roll. If she had to answer honestly, she would have admitted she always intended the rolls to be for her. A half hour after she arrived, Haimer was asleep and she had fulfilled her promise to Danai. At that point, she went above and beyond her promise and cleaned the bed pot for Haimer.

  Merdrid popped another roll into her mouth, gobbling this one whole as she quickly put her things away, leaving the bowl in the bucket on the table and reaching into another belt pouch. Certain the man was asleep, Merdrid popped a pickled root into her mouth and pulled a wide, shallow silver bowl out of her pack. The surface of the metal gleamed and ref
lected like a freshly polished sword. She set the bowl on the floor, then pulled a dull brown bottle out of her robe pocket. The contents were bloodred as she poured them into the bowl. The liquid in the bowl turned clear when she added a bottle of water. Checking Haimer once more, she squatted on the floor and began to hum a catchy tune.

  * * *

  Danai cursed as the darkness made handholds more difficult to find. She had pushed herself near her limit in arriving beyond the southern steppe and more than halfway up the face of the mountain before true dark was upon her, but upon her it was. She was pleased that her waterskin was still bulging with water. She had used enough to avoid a light head or exhaustion, but still had plenty for the rest of the climb with some left for the return trip. Clouds had moved in near dusk, which would make the climb harder, but might aid her when she found the men’s camp.

  The urgency of acting—her father’s dire need—had put her on her path to find the handsome soldier’s group with little thought or planning. She had one potion she did not really understand, the cover of night, some skill in moving quietly through wilderness, and a knowledge of the area. The things she lacked filled her mind and sprouted doubts like cattails on a meadow pond. She had no weapon aside from a short-bladed root knife. That was just as well because she did not know how to use a weapon or fight. She did not know the strength of the men she sought, other than the fact that there were at least six soldiers counting the handsome one. She did not know if they would even camp, nor was she certain they would be coming along the highland road anywhere near where she would emerge. She also did not know where the mortar would be kept and how she might secure it. What if it was in a locked wagon? Would she be able to find the key and pilfer it?