by Megan Derr
Something that might have been human once, though it was impossible to say for certain. Its skin was sickly white between mud and the vines that grew around and even through it. The creature hissed and spat and yowled like a beast, fought the wolf with long teeth and claws where its nails should have been.
The wolf howled, whined as the claws sank deep, but it twisted in the creature's hold and got a grip on its throat, crushing the bones, and ripping the flesh out. Snarling, the wolf examined the body carefully before withdrawing with a soft growl. Bad smell. Madness. Lingering curse. Rage. There is another… and it is stronger.
Adamina made a face and drew a small sack from the pouch at her waist. Filling her hand with salt, she scattered it over the creature's corpse, reciting prayers for peace and purification—and was not surprised when the salt burst into tiny points of black flame and smeared like blood over the corpse. I'd say the curse is more than lingering, and it feeds itself. I think the creature is both curse and victim of it. What is that smell? It's familiar…
She tucked the salt away and pulled out a small green glass bottle. Pouring the viscous contents over the corpse, Adamina softly chanted the words of a slower, more complicated prayer. As she finished speaking, the liquid spread over the body and with a soft shimmer of magic turned it to stone. Kneeling, Adamina tangled her fingers in the undergrowth, eyes closing as she silently communicated with the forest. After a few minutes, dark green vines with bright red flowers rose slowly up from the ground and began to wrap around the stone figure, hiding it from the world.
Rising, Adamina looked around the rest of the clearing, trying to find the source of the bitter, salty smell that did not seem to be fading. Something about it nagged at her. What is that smell?
I do not know. The wolf helped explore the clearing, shoving her nose into every nook and crevice—and finally sneezing so loud that the birds in the trees above scattered with angry caws. Here.
Adamina crossed the clearing and knelt beside the wolf, frowned at the small, spiny leaf she nosed. "This…" It was familiar; the image of a sketch in a book flickered in her mind. Reaching into the large pouch worn at the back of her heavy belt, she pulled out a small, battered book given to her long ago by her mother. The front of it was plain save for where the image of a sleeping rose had once been embossed in gold, only a faint impression of it remaining. Opening it, she flipped through page after page of plants and flowers until she found the spine-edged leaf.
"Oh, hell and damnation. It's rapunzel. Who in the name of the name of the Great Queens brought rapunzel into these woods?" She closed the book and stowed it, then pulled a pair of wooden tweezers from another pouch and gingerly picked up the leaf, wrapping it in a piece of cloth before stowing both items. "That would explain the madness of the poor creature. A child abandoned in the woods, perhaps? Consumed too much rapunzel, and if it had magic… It's been feeding on the villagers to try and stabilize that magic, fix it. Poor thing, it was damned the moment it started eating the rapunzel."
They. There is another, and this one was the weaker of the two.
"Two children abandoned in the woods… feeding on rapunzel… I fear there is more to the story and it will not make good hearing." She looked out over the woods. I think we need a witch.
The wolf nudged against Adamina's thigh, then rested heavily against her. Yes.
Adamina sighed. "I am going to leave you to guard the village. Do not do anything stupid while I am gone. I will return with a witch as quickly as possible. I believe there was one only a day's travel or so away." An independent witch, but hiring her would be faster than calling for, and waiting on, a Sorcerer. "Let's get back to the village."
By the time they reached it, most of the fog had dissipated, leaving only a swirling mist that lent a sleepy quality. More people milled about, watching her as she returned to the inn, pointing and whispering at the wolf.
The innkeeper greeted them as they stopped in front of the inn. "Back already?" she asked.
Adamina shook her head. "A problem has arisen that requires a witch. While I am gone, I am giving you my wolf to guard the village until I return. Let me have your hand, if you do not mind." Victoria nodded and placed her hand in the one Adamina held out. Covering it with her other, Adamina said, "Until I return, my wolf is yours. Heed her and all will be well."
"Yes, my lady," Victoria replied, looking dazed as the wolf left Adamina's side to lean against her, tongue lolling.
Adamina smiled and ruffled the wolf's head in parting, then headed around through the gate to the stables.
It took her until just before dusk to reach the place where she had smelled a witch while riding hard toward Edge Village. Dismounting, she approached the tree line a few steps away from the road. Magic whispered over her skin, and then she was through the magic barrier that had been erected. Nothing harmful, else she would have noticed sooner. Probably just to warn the witch that someone was approaching.
A narrow path wended through the woods, easy to miss between two large, old oak trees. It eventually ran parallel with a large stream. She traveled up a hill and spilled into a large clearing filled with high grass and a smattering of insects that had not yet succumbed to the chill of coming winter. A cottage half-covered in candy flowers, so called for their round petals and bright myriad colors, occupied the far end of the clearing. A little pond was on the east side of it, and there was a small stable with an ass grazing nearby on the west side. The door had been cut into the west end of the front wall, a large window next to it, currently covered with heavy shutters.
Smoke curled from the chimney, carrying the scent of roasting pumpkin. Adamina's stomach growled and homesickness swept over her. She thought of the winter celebrations she was going to miss, how much she would like to see her parents and siblings, how long it had been since she had seen them.
Adamina led her horse to the stream, left it there to do as it pleased. The creaking of a door drew her attention, and she turned with a greeting on her lips. She forgot the words entirely as she stared at the witch, cock twitching in her breeches in a way it hadn't for a long time. Of late, Adamina was too tired, too busy, or too wrung out to be moved by anyone.
The witch was beautiful. She looked a few years older than Adamina's twenty-eight. She had long, curly, springy dark brown hair slightly touched with autumn red, parts of it woven into braids threaded with wooden charms that clinked when she moved, and light, yellow-brown skin heavily covered with freckles. Her faded blue dress was patched with squares of green and white in places, and the sleeves had been rolled up past her elbows. It was mostly covered with a cream-colored apron smeared with stains of various colors and spots of water. She held a large basket at her hip, filled with jars, and her skin was shiny with sweat. Smiling, the witch said, "Good evening, Huntress. If you'll give me just a moment to stow these jars in the cellar, I'll be more than happy to have you for dinner."
"Take your time, please," Adamina watched her go, unable to tear her eyes away. Oh, how she wished the witch wanted to have her for dinner.
Snorting at her own thoughts, she took the reins back up and led her horse closer to the stable, removed all the equipment and got it cleaned up and into a stall with food by the time the witch returned. Waving a hand at her horse, she said, "I will compensate you for the use of your stable and food. I apologize for troubling you unexpectedly."
Laughing, the witch beckoned Adamina to follow her into the house. "No one ever sends a witch an announcement they are coming, Huntress. I never mind receiving one of the Queen's finest. Please, make yourself comfortable. I've some pumpkin soup on if you're inclined to eat."
"I am always inclined to eat," Adamina replied, sitting down at the large table in front of the fire that took up most of the room in the little cabin. It was still scattered and messy with the remains of what had clearly been a long day canning various foods. At a glance, the witch had prepared apples, beets, cranberries, carrots, and pears. Adamina could also see pumpkin an
d a bin of potatoes, and all manner of herbs hung from the rafters. Not just a witch, but a successful one.
With hazel eyes, freckles across her broad, flat nose, and the prettiest smile.
Adamina tried to bring her thoughts back to where they should be, murmuring a heart-felt thanks as a bowl of fragrant pumpkin soup was set in front of her alongside a cup of cider. The witch's hand paused around the cup; Adamina looked up, tilted her head. "Is something wrong?"
"Your wolf pendant is missing, my lady. Are you well?"
Adamina nodded. "I miss her, but I felt better leaving her behind in Edge Village. That is the reason I am here to see you, in fact."
"Oh?" the witch asked, cleaning off the table briskly before she sat with her own bowl and cup. "Pray tell what is wrong. Edge is generally a quiet village despite the gloom that hangs around it. The villagers have been told before they would be better off leaving that place to be taken by the woods, but they remain. I've had a few of them come to me over the years, but mostly they're a superstitious enough group that they prefer to stay well away from my type." She gave a soft snort. "They must be either terrified or in awe of you, my lady."
"Mostly the former, I think," Adamina said. "I am sorry. Here I am enjoying your wonderful soup and I've not even had the good grace for introductions. My name is Adamina Rosenfeld."
The witch smiled. "Grete, my lady, and I take no offense when someone enjoys my cooking so enthusiastically, and without suspicion."
"Witches are the best cooks I know."
Grete's smile widened as she took Adamina's empty bowl and refilled it. "I'd give you bread if I had it, but there's not much in the way of grain around these parts. It has to wait until I can go into town, and I've had no cause to do that for some time."
Adamina dismissed the words with a shake of her head. "Your soup is perfect."
"Well I certainly shan't argue with you, my lady," Grete said with a bright smile. "I enjoy compliments far too much to protest them." Her eyes lingered a moment before she turned away to resume her own seat. "So what is so wrong in Edge Village that my humble services are required?"
Reaching into one of the pouches at her waist, Adamina pulled out the kerchief in which she had earlier stowed the leaf and held it out. "Be careful."
Grete nodded as she gingerly unwound the kerchief—then froze, eyes widening. "This… this is rapunzel. It was eradicated, I thought. Even having a powdered version or a tincture containing it is a serious offense. Where in the name of the Great Queens did you get fresh rapunzel? Thank whatever fortune guards you that it was not the blossom you found."
"I was summoned to Edge Village to kill a monster dragging women and children from their beds and feasting upon them. All of those killed had been sealed or were coming of age."
"I see," Grete said quietly. "The beast was addicted to the rapunzel, but now the rapunzel is wreaking havoc upon its magic and body and it needs witch meat, so to speak, to repair the damage."
Adamina sighed. "They need witches. That is the other problem. There are two of them. One I have turned to stone, since it was beyond all hopes of purification, but the other—stronger—one roams free. I can track and kill it, but I fear there are things about which I do not yet know, and I'm concerned what effects the rapunzel might have had on the forest."
"I'll come, of course. Two, you said? Were they human? Of about what age?"
"I could not say. Human when they were born, certainly, but completely distorted by the rapunzel and the forest. Why, do you know something?"
Grete bit at her thumbnail. "Maybe. My full name is Grete Thane."
Adamina paused with a spoonful of soup halfway to her mouth, let it drop back into the bowl. "Thane. As in the one they called the Mad Witch?"
Wincing, Grete nodded. "Yes. She was my aunt. We used to live together, the three of us, in this very cabin. My mother and her did not always get along, but we managed well enough. Then, of course, we learned of the kidnapped girl."
"The woman in the tower," Adamina said. "I thought that was just a tale."
Grete's mouth flattened. "Unfortunately not. My aunt traded rapunzel for a baby, and kept the poor girl locked in an old tower in the woods all her life. My mother and I always wondered why she went into the woods so often, but we never questioned it because we were relieved she was gone. By the time we learned all that she had done, it was too late. My aunt had run off, never to be seen again, and we found the poor captive woman's body lying broken at the base of the tower. Evidence of terrible things…" She covered her eyes with her fingers. "It will always be my shame that I did not act sooner, that if I had been less selfish I might have saved a woman's life. And perhaps those children…" She dropped her hands and shook her head. "We found evidence that the woman had given birth, but never could find the children. We scoured the woods for them, asked around as best we could. After a couple of years with no success, though, my mother and I were forced to give up."
"The forest took them in," Adamina said quietly. "But they also fell into the rapunzel. How sad." She finished her soup and pushed the bowl away. "Thank you again for dinner. Is there a way for you to eradicate the rapunzel?"
"I can try," Grete replied. "I'm not a sorcerer, though. I weave charms to trade for pumpkins and ward the village well in exchange for cider and beets. I'm not unfamiliar with dangerous work, but neither do I excel at it, Huntress."
Adamina nodded. "I appreciate any help you can offer, though you seem so successful I suspect you are more skilled than you admit."
"I do as well making jams as charms, I assure you." Grete winked at her as she gathered up the dishes and settled them in a bucket. "Give me just a few minutes to clean all of this up, my lady, and I'll get a bed prepared for you for the night."
"You need not go to such trouble for me. My cloak and the fire are all I need."
"My mother would have taken a switch to me for being so rude. Have another cider, I shan't be long." She swept out of the cabin before Adamina could reply.
Bemused, Adamina obediently poured more cider and moved to sit closer to the fire, making a soft noise of appreciation at the soft rag rug set before it. She removed her muddy boots, scraped the worst of the dried muck into the fire, then set them close by, stripped her socks off to warm her feet, give them a chance to breathe after so many days of hard traveling.
She would give everything she owned for a proper bath and a soft bed, but thinking of such things just made her all the more homesick. Her father's garden would be blooming with frost roses, and all her nieces and nephews would be piled into the manor for the winter holidays. A few of them would be going to the Royal Feast for the first time. She had hoped to be home in time to see them enjoy it.
Ah, well. She had known what becoming a Huntress would entail. Reaching into a hidden pocket in her tunic, Adamina withdrew a small velvet pouch. Tipping the contents out, she ran her fingers over the old, slender silver case decorated with silver vines and porcelain flowers. She flipped the catch and opened the case to display the mirror it protected. "Show me my mother."
The mirror shimmered, then filled with a blur of colors that slowly sharpened, only slightly fuzzy around the edges: a woman with pale, pink-white skin, silver-touched black hair pulled up in an elaborate knot of braids, wearing a dark gold gown trimmed in bright gold lace. From the way her head was angled down, the slight pucker to her brow, she must be working, reading through all the paperwork that came from running a merchant company that owned no less than seven ships.
Large, dark hands fell on her shoulders, and she smiled as Adamina's father leaned down to kiss her briefly. Adamina had gotten her dark eyes and black-brown skin from her father, along with her brother Stephen; the rest of their siblings had fallen somewhere between their parents. She had also inherited her mother's black hair, where most of her siblings had lighter brown hair.
Adamina smiled, thinking of her brother, a year and half older than her, their mother's protégé in all things business
. Adamina had done her time as an apprentice, but her heart had always belonged to the forests.
"Enough," she said quietly, and the image turned into swirling mist and faded away. If she managed to finish up with the rapunzel problem quickly enough, perhaps she could still make it home in time for the end of the festivities. She tucked the mirror away and sipped at her cider, enjoying the heat lapping at her tired feet.
The door creaked open and Adamina turned to smile—faltered at the way Grete froze in the doorway, stared at her wide-eyed. "Is something wrong?" Adamina asked.
Grete seemed to give herself a shake. "Not at all, my apologies." She bustled over to the work table and the cabinets close to it and put all of the clean dishes away before sliding the bucket beneath the table. "I can heat some water if you'd like to clean up a bit. I know what it's like to travel for days without being anywhere long enough to take off your boots."
"You've been more than gracious, already. I'll survive a few more days, and then I plan on finding a tub and all the hot water I can afford."
"As you wish. I will say the luxury of living alone is that I can have a bath whenever I want, and I don't have to share the water." Her mouth tipped at one corner. "The downside is that I have to haul the water all by myself. So it goes." She waggled her eyebrows before turning away to go to the bed in the corner and open the chest at the foot of it. "I've blankets aplenty here, they should keep you more than comfortable. We can leave at dawn?" Adamina nodded, and took the blankets as Grete held them out. "I'll get my things packed now, then, while I get ready for bed myself." She turned away, humming quietly as she bustled about the cabin.
Adamina fetched her saddlebags where she'd left them by the door and dug out clean socks. Returning to the fireplace, she pulled the new socks on, then set out the blankets. As promised, they made a more than adequate bed. She turned—and stopped, mouth going dry as she stared at Grete's bare back, a hint of breast, firelight bathing her skin like a lover.
