Deep Magic - First Collection

by Jeff Wheeler

  * * *

  Unaware of how much time had passed, where she was, or even if she was really alive, Danai awoke. Her head felt as though it was being used to prop up the drooping corner of Merdrid’s shop as a makeshift cornerstone. It throbbed in time with her heartbeat. Her thoughts seemed to lurk at the bottom of a rather thick pea soup, and wanted nothing more than to stay lost in the depths of unconsciousness. The first thing outside of herself that she realized was some source of bright light beamed as though to burn through her eyelids and melt her brain. And her mouth was so very dry.

  “Ah, you live again, Sis.” Merdrid’s familiar and soothing voice beckoned her.

  Danai felt a blanket covering her, and she struggled to pull it over her head with her left hand; something was in her right hand, but she did not know what. Both hands and arms felt as though hundreds of tiny pins were pricking them and robbing all strength. She grunted something in reply that fell far short of a recognizable word.

  “Don’t play the turtle on me, Sis. I need you to come out and drink the tea I have prepared. It will help you feel better. Then we can talk about all that we need to do today.” Merdrid’s voice was still sweet, and in remarkably good spirits.

  Danai heard the part about tea and feeling better. She also realized Merdrid seemed happy, which was noteworthy in itself. “Close the drapes.” She managed to say.

  The sounds of scuffled steps moving away from Danai preceded the room going dark. Merdrid’s voice spoke from across the room, “It is nice and dark now, Sis.”

  When Danai lowered the blanket, she realized she was in her own room at home. It seemed strange to find Merdrid at her bedside. “I’m . . . sorry . . . Merdrid.” She managed to say around the throbbing spasms of pain in her head.

  “Don’t be foolish. What have you to be sorry for, dear child?” Merdrid’s cheerfulness grated her nerves.

  “I didn’t get it.” Danai felt the object in her right hand. It was circular, very smooth, and attached to a string. She thought she should recognize it by feel, but her mind was not working properly, and any effort to recall the prior night made her head hurt worse.

  “Please let me get some of this tea in you.” Patience was almost as foreign as cheerfulness with Merdrid. This was a rare day.

  Danai obliged and took the steaming cup. It was made of gray stone and had a few chips, but no cracks, which made it the best one in her home. She felt a tinge of embarrassment at her meager living quarters, but tried to forget her pride. The tea was warm, but not hot, and the bitter bark that she expected to find was well masked with a generous amount of honey. She felt better just drinking something warm. The object in her hand had a hole in it—like a ring. She almost pulled it out to inspect, but then decided not to at the last second.

  “What didn’t you get?” Merdrid asked, sitting on a wobbly stool next to the bed.

  It took Danai a moment to recall her own statement and realize what Merdrid was asking. “The mortar.” Her eyes focused on Merdrid’s shoes, which looked a little muddy.

  Merdrid’s chuckle filled the room and Danai nearly fell off the bed. “Of course you did not fail, Danai.” Merdrid leaned down and picked the mortar up from the floor, holding it where Danai could see its dark gray form with flecks of gold, the inner bowl glistening like it had been polished with wax. “I warned you that the potion might addle your memory, did I not?”

  Danai strained to remember getting the mortar, or even entering the camp, but could not. She wondered if she had met the handsome soldier, but try as she did to recall anything from the night before, no memory materialized. One question lingered in her mind above the others. “How did I get home?”

  “I suspect you ran down the face of the mountain, for you got home at the break of dawn.” Merdrid indicated with her hands to drink more of the tea. “The potion you drank was strong indeed. I would not be surprised if you had dreams you believed to be true. Reality and dream could easily be mottled together, Sis.”

  There was something about the potion that beckoned unpleasant thoughts in Danai’s mind. She was unhappy about the potion, but could not remember why. Then there was the handsome soldier, and her thoughts about him were uncertain. She drank the rest of the tea and tried to piece together the missing memories from the night before. “Are we safe? Will the men come back?”

  Merdrid’s smile sank a little. “I fear that they will. That is why I believe we need to move forward more quickly than I wanted with my idea about your father. We can try the cure on him today, and then if it works, we can quickly apply it to the others who suffer from the plague. Do you still want to help him?”

  Danai’s head hurt a little less, and the strength in her arms was slowly coming back. “Certainly. Is he okay?” Danai felt guilty that she had not thought to ask about her father earlier. She had never failed to check him throughout the night since he had become ill. She started to get out of bed to check on him, but Merdrid’s gentle touch stopped her.

  “He is well enough, Sis. I promised I would watch over him while you were on my errand, and I did so. He even ate a little soup last night.” Her smile returned, albeit a little weakly.

  “Thank you.”

  “You are welcome, as was he. It was a trifle compared to what you did for me, Danai. I will remember you all my days for that great service alone.” Merdrid started to rise, taking a rather long time to get her body upright. “You need a little rest, which the tea should help you with. I need to go to the shop to gather ingredients and a few items necessary for the cure. I will wake you when I return. I do not trust the safety of the shop—so we will put the cure together here at your home, yes?”

  “Of course,” Danai said. “But I have more questions about last night.”

  “We can talk when I get back. I won’t be long—get some rest.” Merdrid smiled brightly before she shuffled out of the room.

  Danai waited until Merdrid left the home, and then sat up on the edge of the bed, her vision darkening and dizziness threatening to empty her stomach, but after a little while, she was able to slowly rise to her feet. She looked down into her hands and saw the pendant. Gold flecks in dark gray, the same colors as the mortar, glistened from the shiny ring tethered to a leather cord. Seeing it made her think about the night before, and a picture involving the pendant tried to form in her mind, but never came together. After trying to sort her thoughts for a couple of minutes, she decided to try later.

  With considerable caution, Danai moved slowly across the floor. She poked her head out the door and saw her father sleeping on his bed in the main room. His low snore greeted her like a familiar friend. His brow was wet with perspiration. Danai remembered him having a bit of fever the day before, which must have broken. Merdrid probably helped him more in the night she was here than Danai helped him all month. Danai’s brow creased as she realized she could remember her father’s fever clearly, but so little of what happened after she reached the highlands last night.

  Satisfied that her father was doing all right and not wanting to disturb his sleep, Danai slowly returned to her own bed. Perhaps a little more rest would help her think clearly. She was yawning as she got back under the warm covers. Before she fell asleep, she put the stone ring in her large pouch on her belt that hung from the bedpost.

  * * *

  At the camp in the woods near the highland road, dawn brought order to the soldiers who had spent the night on alert, searching for the girl who had brought near ruin upon them all. The apothecant’s assistant had somehow subdued Kleed, but she had done worse to the emissary. The old man remained unconscious, his head wound still weeping blood. The men had looked for her most of the night, but could not track her in the storm. It had taken them an hour to find Kleed after she darted into their midst, stole the artifact, and slipped into the night like an arrow.

  In the clear light of morning, Kleed organized them, his temper fully engaged. The soldiers stood before him in line, at attention. “You wasted half of the night runni
ng in circles. She made fools of you. She made fools of us all. But the day will undo much of the harm done in the dark. By nightfall, she will be in chains, the mortar in stow, and we will be back on the road to the city.” He spat.

  He went on. “Pack everything but the tent. We will let the emissary rest. Tyngrid and Ellisen stay with him and notify me of any change in his condition. Keep his wound dressed and help him be comfortable. I will check in before we leave, but I want him kept here until he is fit to travel. You will keep the carriage and join us in the valley when you can.” He turned to the others. “Move out. Now!”

  Kleed felt like an idiot himself. Danai had taken more than his pride. She was not yet a woman, and she had lured him to take off his protective pendant. Now he would go back into the valley where a truly dark practitioner of the vosang lived, with only his skill and sword as defense. He checked himself. He was giving the girl too much credit. It was his arrogance and pride that had cost them. Had he put her in chains when he found her and conducted a proper interrogation, the emissary would not be on the verge of death. If the emissary did not live, he had no doubt their commission would end with the emissary’s burial and his own court-martial.

  * * *

  The next time Danai woke, she felt substantially better. Her pounding headache had reduced to a slightly annoying thrum, and the rest of her body was merely stiff. Humming from the main room caught her attention. Humming. Merdrid had never hummed that Danai could recall. Standing came easier, but this time Danai looked down and realized she was in her sleeping slip. Her cheeks warmed as she tried to recall whether Merdrid had seen her in the slip. Nobody other than her parents had ever seen her in her slip. She quickly dressed in some trousers and a blouse and secured her belt in place, remembering the pendant in the large pouch. She took a quick peek to see if it would jar more memories into place. It did not.

  As she was getting ready to leave her room, she saw a clump of clothes and shoes in the corner. It was what she had worn the day before. Around the clump was a puddle of water on the stone floor. She remembered stinging rain and instinctively pulled her arms around her body, remembering her limbs and back aching from the cold.

  “Danai, are you awake, Sis?” Merdrid called from the other room.

  Danai tried to keep a picture in her mind of the storm so she could tease out more memories later. Before she left the room, she grabbed her only other pair of shoes, which were sturdy, though not pretty, and made from old burnished saddle leather. “I’m coming.”

  When Danai entered the main room of the home, she saw Merdrid standing at the worktable from the shop, with rows and piles of herbs, roots, and what appeared to be bugs on its top. Next to the herbs were three round black bottles with neat labels on them; Merdrid’s short, stout knife; and the mortar and pestle. Danai could not help but notice and realize the pestle was also made from dark gray stone with flecks of gold. The room was a little hazy with smoke coming from two trays of burning incense. Merdrid scooted around the table and across the now crowded room with a package in her hands tied with a red ribbon. She smiled and said, “Happy Birthday, Sis.”

  Danai had completely forgotten it was her birthday. During the past five birthdays, she could count on Merdrid getting her some small gift, but she would have otherwise been forgotten. She took the present and fought back tears. “Thank you, Merdrid. Thank you for remembering.” She fussed with the paper for a moment, then looked at her father and saw that he was still sleeping. “I want to wait and open it when Father is awake.”

  Merdrid frowned briefly and then nodded, “Of course. It is not much, mind you. So don’t go building it up in your mind.”

  “Has he been up today?” Danai cleared a space on their only shelf and set the package down.

  “Oh, yes. I cleaned his pot not more than an hour ago and gave him some of the tea I gave you. He has been fighting fever and it was starting to come back. I told him you were resting too, and I’m sure he was relieved to know you are safe at home.” Merdrid walked back around the table and started shaving a root with her knife. “It is no doubt for the best that we are making the cure today. He grows weaker with time and struggles to fight the lingering effects of the plague.”

  “What can I do to help?” Danai took her yellow well-used apron from a peg near the back door and put it on.

  “I started a fire this morning. Why don’t you fetch a half pot of water to put on the stove and stoke the belly until the sides glow like a church boy’s cheeks at a tavaranga dance.”

  Danai laughed out loud. “I haven’t heard that one before.”

  “You probably haven’t seen the tavaranga dance either.” Merdrid winked at Danai as the young woman walked out the door with the water bucket.

  After getting the fire stoked and making sure the pot was on the hottest part of the stove, Danai walked over and gave Merdrid a hug. The older woman only came up to Danai’s chin and felt soft like a pillow all around. “Merdrid, what can you tell me about last night?”

  Merdrid returned to scraping short, thin curls of giathen root into a shallow dish. “Unfortunately, I don’t know much more than I told you before. After you left, I made dinner and brought it to your father. I fed him and then attended to a couple things before spending the rest of the night here until you came home near dawn.” Merdrid seemed satisfied with the root scrapings and moved to a large bluish-colored nut that she grated into the same shallow dish. “You were soaking wet and nearly frozen when you came in. I built the fire to warm you, but you lacked the strength to stand in front of it. You changed out of your wet clothes in your room and then I warmed the blankets near the stove and tucked you in.”

  Having been outside, Danai could tell it was late afternoon. “Did I say anything about what happened?”

  Merdrid frowned, “No, Sis. Nothing more coherent than ‘brrrr’ came out of your mouth until after you slept.”

  They worked quietly for a long while after that, with Danai working by Merdrid’s side, restocking the incense, stoking the fire, and stealing looks at her father resting on his bed. They were used to working together without having to talk.

  Danai considered asking about the pendant, but had a nagging feeling that she should not. She still struggled to make sense out of her memories while cleaning the knife for Merdrid. She had only remembered the coyotes howling and nothing else beyond what she had already sorted out. “I recall you saying that I would have to make a sacrifice for this ‘cure’ to work. Is that right?”

  Merdrid started putting several of the ingredients into jars and little boxes, then stowing them in a large leather pack. “I did. I am sorry—I forgot we were interrupted when we were discussing this before. And you need to know what you will have to give for the cure to work.” She continued to clean the work area until all that remained were the mortar and pestle; knife; seven shallow dishes with various herbs, shavings, and fibers; and the three bottles. “But before we do that, you should open your gift. I think your father is going to continue sleeping for a while, which is for his good. The cure is at a resting point, where there is little we can do until the shoots and nuts that are cooking in the pot have softened. This might be the best chance you have before we finish the cure.”

  Danai smiled and nodded her approval. She retrieved the package from the shelf and made quick work of the ribbon, saving it to use in her hair. It would make a beautiful bow. The paper came off next, and she could see red satin fabric inside with glittering stones in a row. They turned out to be the adornment along the waistline of a gorgeous dress. When she saw the neckline, she felt her cheeks redden. It would not go far below her neck, but it would hint at much more than she was used to. “It is beautiful, Merdrid. Absolutely beautiful.” She held it up against her body and swished from side to side. The full skirt would fall just below the knee. All she could think of was when she would ever have occasion to wear such a dress.

  “I know it is not something you are used to wearing, and you probably can’t
think of when you would.” Merdrid waited until Danai nodded, then continued. “And I will be mortified if you wear it to climb mountains. Yet, now that you are eighteen, there are some dances and other gatherings I think you might attend. Trust me when I promise that the dress will get more use than you now imagine.” Merdrid winked again. That was twice in one day.

  “As long as you don’t expect me to do the tavaranga dance in it. Whatever that is.”

  “I would be happy to teach you if you want.” Merdrid started to move as though she was going to demonstrate the dance.

  “Good golden gates of heaven, Merdrid. No, no, no. I have no need to redden any church boy’s cheeks.” Danai laughed a little.

  “No? Well then, how about you try your dress on for fit, and then I will tell you more about the cure.” Merdrid waved her hands to usher Danai toward her room.

  Danai spent several minutes wrangling the dress into roughly the right position and thinking she wished she had time to bathe before wearing the dress. She was relieved that her feet and legs had been cleaned since her long climb the night before, and her hands were clean as well. Gripping the sides of the dress with both hands and squirming a little, she was able to put everything into the right places. She smoothed the fabric with her hands and enjoyed the feel of it on her fingers. A lattice of cream-colored ribbon on the back still needed tightening and tying, but she really wanted to see how she looked.

  Feeling a bit nervous, she walked quietly to the polished oval mirror on the wall. It was not large enough to see herself from head to toe, but she could at least see herself from the waist up. As usual, she was a little disappointed by the plainness of her face. The band of freckles across her nose and cheeks were too many. The dimple looked wrong, and her eyes were too small. Her blond hair hung in waves, which always happened when she slept on wet hair. She could feel in places it was not fully dry. The dress was still beautiful, but her shape was thin and lacked the curves that men seemed to like. She offered a sigh and decided to make a smile. Her smile was nice, and it made her face look better than anything else she could do.