by R J Murray
“How is, Hektor?”
It was the wizard’s turn to smile at that as she tapped at the desk before her and shook her head, sucking on her teeth.
“Hektor is the same as always. He tends our home and spends all his free time in his garden. But enough of this, you’ve come for more than friendly chatter.”
“The murders.”
“That’s what they are then? For sure?”
“Of course! What did you think them to be?”
“Plague, perhaps. There’s been word of plague bearers moving through the kingdom of Valentor. Not hard to imagine they were elsewhere too.”
“No. The priests are clear on that. There’s something out there killing people.”
“Something?”
“Aye. There’re no marks on the bodies but they are all drained of blood and their life too. Each of them opened their doors willingly and died quickly and without a sound to alert their neighbours. It happened in the early evening, around meal time.”
“Sixth bell, perhaps,” Vala mused. “What else?”
“No one has seen or heard anything out of the ordinary and there has been nothing left behind.”
“What do you mean?”
“No footprints in the gardens of those houses that had them and no marks on wall or door. Whatever it is that is doing this, it is smart.”
“Smarter than a watchman at least.” She waved her hand before he could respond. “Forgive me, brother. That was in poor taste.”
He settled back into his chair and crossed his arms over his broad chest, looking down his nose at her in a way that would no doubt remind her of the way their mother tended to look at her.
“What is it you want from the college?”
“Help,” he said, simply. “The city lords are growing restless and I have nothing else I can do. I have increased patrols and set guards on nearby roofs to watch the streets, but there is nothing for them to see.”
“You think magic is in use?”
“Aye.”
“Well, mayhap you are right. I have three apprentices that I can give to you to cast spells at the homes of those who have died. They may be able to discern something though if the priests cannot, then I am doubtful they will.”
She tutted quietly as she said that. In some corners of the college those words would set off a furious argument, but she was pragmatic enough to know that the priests, while often rivals, were competent.
“It has struck each night for the past eleven, yes?”
“Fourteen.”
“So many.” Her eyebrows rose as she said that. “Very well. Tonight, I shall join you and we shall see what we can see.”
Chapter 5
Mia threw her half-filled basket of berries onto the wide kitchen table and dashed to her small room, ignoring the surprised squawk of the cook, who stared with wide eyes at the door as it slammed shut.
She dropped down onto the straw-filled mattress that was her bed and sucked in a deep, shuddering breath of air. Her hands clasped to her temples as she leant forward, sucking in breath after breath of air.
It couldn’t be true! Was all that she could think as she heard the large warrior’s words again and again in her mind. If it were true, then it was her fault! All her fault.
Tears streamed down her face and her body trembled as memories pressed against her, determined that she relive that terrible night. She collapsed to the bed, curling into the foetal position and clutching the blankets to her mouth to stifle her screams of rage and fear.
After some time, there came a knocking on her door. A heavy fist banging against the wood, hard enough to make it shake and persistent. Thinking, that perhaps it was Galen come to demand she return to her work, she rose from the bed.
She ran her fingers through the tangled mass of her hair and wiped at her face with the hem of her dress, knowing it would make little difference. Her face would still be puffed up with eyes, red-rimmed from the crying.
When she pulled open the door, she gripped the frame with one hand till her knuckles whitened and lifted her chin while throwing back her shoulders as she stared at the woman before her.
“May I come in?” Elva asked.
“Why?”
“Just to talk, child. Nothing more.”
Mia stared at the older woman, a little intimidated by her yet refusing to show that especially as she had no way to hide the fact she’d been bawling like a child just a short time before. She stepped aside and waved the lean woman in.
She crossed her arms beneath her breasts and leant back against the whitewashed wall of her room as she stared at the other woman, waiting for her to speak.
“I understand you… spoke with Jochum.”
“The big man?”
“Yes, that’s him.”
“He called me a witch!” she said and immediately glanced at the door, lowering her voice as she feared being overheard. “I’m no witch.”
Elva sucked on her teeth and glanced around the small room as she thought of the best way to start the conversation. Wynn had made it clear that they needed her and since Jochum had failed, it had fallen to her or Syn and while she loved him dearly, Syn was not the right person for the task.
“What do you know of magic?”
The younger woman blinked at the question and hesitated a little unsure of how to answer. Elva, seeing this, nodded slowly and smiled before patting the bed beside her.
“Come, sit. I think I need to explain a few things to you.”
Mia bit her lip and shook her hair from her face before taking the two steps towards the bed. She sank down onto it and turned to the other woman, waiting.
“Wynn, my friend, he should be the one to tell you this, but he is not so good with people.” Elva smiled at that and pressed on as the younger woman frowned. “Priests call on the powers of their gods. They have no specific incantations or special gestures, just a prayer that will most often be answered.”
“Wizards are a different breed. They use the… the, stone they carry to connect with the source of their magic. With it, they can do amazing things, but it is neither good nor evil.”
“A-a stone? I’m to believe that?”
“It’s complicated, child and I won’t bore you with the details but know this. The source stones they carry are the only way they can use magic. Without it, they are just men and women like you and me.”
“What, what about… others? Evil ones?”
“There are those who have a different source of their power. Warlocks and necromancers both have different means of accessing their magic. Both though, still need some form of power to their spells and that comes from elsewhere.”
“A-and…” She hesitated, biting her lip so hard it almost bled as she built the courage to ask the question she least wanted the answer to. “What of witches?”
Elva exhaled a soft sigh and smiled brightly.
“They are not real. Most of those accused of witchcraft are women who know the old lore of plants and herbs. They cast no spells and curse no one. If they had such a power, then entire villages would be decimated by the curses they cast as they were burned at the stake.”
“B-but I… I, I did… “
“No, child. Whatever you think you did was not you. Wynn noticed that you carry the gift within you, the capacity to not just learn magic but truly excel at it. That is a rarity, but even one with the gift needs a source stone to access it.”
“They said, but… my mam and my da! They said…”
“Whatever they accused you of was not your fault, child.”
Elva reached up, wrapping her arms around the trembling shoulders of the girl and pulled her close. The emotions running through her were strong and she held her as sobs wracked her body, all the while cursing silently at the ignorant villagers who had blamed a child for what must have been a tragedy.
“You are not evil,” she cooed softly. “Just a girl who suffered a loss. Whatever happened was not your fault.”
At s
ome point, Elva knew, they would need to let her talk of what had happened since it had clearly affected her deeply and judging by the way the villagers treated her, had left them suspicious of her though not enough so to do more than harass her and treat her poorly.
In any other town or city, she would have been tested and offered a place in whichever college was closest. Those wizards in charge of such places knew that investing in training new mages was a great way to ensure they would prosper themselves as no mage was exempt from the cost of their training. Even if that meant working for years after to repay it.
“Come now,” she said softly. “Dry your eyes and come join us. We have a proposition for you.”
“W-what?”
“A chance to get away from this place and see a little more of the wider world. Perhaps have an adventure or two.”
Mia managed a smile as she wiped at her nose. She’d often dreamt of leaving the village but had long thought she would never have the chance. An offer to do so from a strange group was not necessarily one of the ways she had considered but she thought it was at least worth listening to them.
Elva, watching the girls face, felt her own smile fade and forced it back. She knew that what they were doing was wrong, but she also knew the stakes. A magic user had broken the oath, a magic user would be the best person to replace her and if that was not necessarily her choice, well, it hadn’t been Elva’s either.
****
“What’s going on?” Wynn asked, lifting his head from the bed and shading his eyes against the light streaming in from the opened curtains.
“Not sure,” Syn said in his soft voice. “Perhaps trouble.”
People were standing in clusters on the village green, their faces turning towards the inn more often than not as they spoke amongst themselves. Syn couldn’t help but notice that many of them were carrying their work tools.
The large man from the night before was down there, a heavy black hammer held casually in one hand. His leather apron was pockmarked and scorched from the forge and around him gathered the cronies he had been drinking with.
Several women in their long dresses and pristine white aprons, clutched their shawls close as they chattered. Somewhere a dog was barking and the hairs on the back of Syn’s neck stood on end.
It was a scene he had witnessed before and it rarely ended well for him. Angry men and women who saw just the colour of his skin and not the man he was. Though, to be fair, he thought, when they knew the man he was, many of them disliked him all the more.
“Argh! What is that thrice-damned noise?” Wynn snapped from where he lay on the bed, his bulk bowing the mattress alarmingly.
“The villagers are gathering. Any minute now they will light their torches and… ah.” He caught sight of a handful of men coming from between two houses, their arms full of wood. “Looks like they are building the bonfire.”
“Bumpkins!”
Wynn lifted his bulk up and hawked noisily before spitting directly onto the floor. Syn turned his face away, going back to looking out the window, his distaste for the fat man plain on his face.
“Give me a moment to prepare and I’ll light their fires for them.”
Wynn let out a cackle as he pulled his leather satchel towards him and pulled it open. He reached in and pulled out a small leather pouch that bulged.
“I think, perhaps, we should speak with the others first.”
The fat man grunted and lifted his shoulders in a shrug before tossing the pouch back into the satchel. “As you wish.” He rose from the bed, coughing into his hand and pulled a small vial filled with a turquoise liquid from a pocket.
“Really? Do you think that now is the best time for… that?”
“Never a better time than when we face danger. You know what awaits as well as any.”
Syn shivered at the reminder. He certainly did know and had lived with that knowledge for the past decade of his life. Unlike the others, he had not allowed that fate to dictate his life and more than that, he thought with a sour look at the mage who carefully tilted the vial to let no more than three drops of fluid hit his tongue, he hadn’t felt the need to compensate with such substances.
“I’ll wait for you downstairs with the others.”
“As you will,” Wynn replied as he relieved himself into the chamber-pot.
The thief left him there and headed down the stairs taking them two at a time. When he got to the common room he found it empty bar his two friends and the serving girl from the night before. She was seated at a table with them, a foaming tankard of ale before her.
“Problem,” he said without waiting for the customary greeting. He nodded towards the window. “Outside.”
Jochum rose to his feet and rested one hand on the hilt of his sword as he shared a look with Elva. He crossed the floor to the closest window. When there, he pressed himself back against the bare boards of the wall and peered out through the glass.
It didn’t take him long to see what Syn had seen and he swore softly before glancing back at the girl.
“Time to make your choice, lass. You coming with us, or not?”
“W-why? What’s going on?”
“We need to leave,” Jochum said to Elva, ignoring the girl’s question. “Get Wynn.”
“No need to.” Wynn descended the stairs slowly, the hood of his cloak pulled up to hide his face in shadow. “I’m here and ready to leave. I have a horse in the stable.”
“I walked,” Elva said with a shrug.
“As did I.” Syn echoed her shrug and smiled at her as he touched the hilts of his daggers with one hand. One after another, a nervous habit that those who knew him well had seen often before.
“There’ll be no need,” Jochum said. “I’ve transport close by.”
“What transport?”
The warrior ignored the suspicious tone of the mage's voice and glanced once more at the girl. “Well? What’s it to be?”
“I-I don’t think I can.”
Jochum held up one hand to forestall the complaints he knew would be coming from the mage and shook his head.
“Might not have a choice. There’s a crowd gathered out there and they’re building a fire. That’s never a good sign.”
“No!”
Her hands went to her mouth as she looked at the faces of the people around her, thoughts running through her mind that it was her they were building the fire for.
The door opened before she could answer and Jochum’s sword was halfway from its sheath before he recognised the stout innkeeper.
“Good!” Galan said as he stopped, letting the door close behind him. “You’re here already.”
“What’s going on?” Elva asked. Her bow was close to hand as always and it took but a moment to pull a string from a pouch on her belt and quickly fix it to the bow.
“Dara was in the woods looking for berries same as you,” Galen snapped, face flushed with anger and concern for the girl. “She heard your talk and didn’t need much encouragement to spread the word that you’re a witch. You need to leave and now!”
“They’re not coming for me?” Syn asked, a little surprised.
“Aye, well, the fires big enough for two.”
“Ah, that’s just typical.” He wore such a look of resignation as he said it that his friends couldn’t help but smile despite the danger they faced.
“You have a back way out?” Jochum asked.
“I’ll show you.” There were tears in Mia’s eyes and she dashed over to the innkeeper and gave him a quick embrace. “Thank you.”
“Now, now, girl. Best you leave now.” He patted her awkwardly and she smiled up at him, tears falling freely.
“Don’t think I will forget your kindness.”
“Bah! I gave you work because you were cheaper than anyone else would have been.”
The innkeeper was clearly embarrassed, and his cheeks flamed as he pulled away from the girl.
“No.” She shook her head firmly. “You gave me a room of
my own and saved me from… well, from a different fate.”
“This is all very touching, but it is time to go,” Wynn snapped.
“Come, girl. You’re with us whether you want to or not,” Jochum added.
Mia nodded and with one last look at the innkeeper she turned and ran from the room. The others followed her, through the kitchens and out the back door. She skidded to a stop in the muddy yard and the others did the same as they piled out of the inn.
“Gonna make you pay, witch!” The blacksmith's journeyman said, a look of malicious glee on his face and a heavy hammer in his hand.
Chapter 6
Jonah, the blacksmith's apprentice had long lusted after the girl and he was in no mood to be dissuaded from his desires. He would take her and then watch her burn, hiding his crime from the rest of the village.
His heart beat like thunder in his chest and adrenaline surged through his body as he raised the heavy, flat-headed hammer in one hand, though most men would require two. He was in the prime of his life and he knew it.
A word was spoken and something invisible but as solid as stone hit his chest, throwing him back into the bushes with a mighty crash. Wynn’s cackle of laughter followed him as his three friends exchanged looks and swallowed hard.
“G-get them!” Jonah screamed, spittle spraying from his lips as he pulled himself from the bushes, broken twigs in his hair and a burning anger in his breast. The three men charged.
Jochum blocked the wild swing of a smaller hammer with one thick forearm and smashed the hilt of his sword into the youth's face. Blood sprayed as his nose broke and he staggered back, hand flying to his face. Jochum balled one large fist and pulled his arm back before letting fly and the younger man was laid flat in the mud, dead to the world.
Elva, meanwhile, had drawn back on her bow and loosed an arrow that pierced the leather boot of a sandy-haired man. He screamed in pain and dropped his cleaver into the mud as he reached down to grasp his leg. He never saw her booted foot before it caught him in the side of the head.
The third man lifted his hand-axe and rushed at Mia, determined to be the one to take her down. He came up short as the wickedly sharp blade of a dagger came up against his throat.
