by Rick Field
The second problem came when they wanted to eat the cooked meat. Without plates or utensils, both Nobles felt a bit weary of just digging in with their fingers. Thankfully, with a quick bit of Earth-based magic, Liane was able to create a couple of baked clay plates for them to use. A couple of two-pronged skewers were made from stone, and some innocent flint stones got turned into knives. They may look nothing like the fine utensils used at the Academy, but at least they did the job.
The fire kept them warm, and Liane almost started to relax at the thought that they'd finally gotten everything taken care of.
Her peace lasted until the night truly fell, and the wind started to pick up when temperatures dropped. Dew dampened their clothes and the surrounding grass, making them shiver despite the warmth of the fire.
Improvising quickly, Liane rose a circular dome out of the ground, made from compacted earth, to protect them. The fire immediately heated the improvised hut. Out of the wind and falling dew, and covered by the heat of the fire, the stress of the day started to catch up to them.
Settling in to sleep was easier said than done, however, and Liane cursed her lack of any sort of bedroll as the hard floor kept her awake. Thinking of a way to create some sort of improvised bed started to give her a headache, and she released her breath in agitation.
She immediately breathed in, feeling the anxiety over her failure raise her heart rate and increasing her breathing. The smell of the fire, stronger than ever before, tickled her nostrils, and she sneezed. A sense of panic slowly started to creep up on her, and Liane opened her eyes from where she was lying, trying to determine if anything was out of the ordinary in the light of the fire. The dome she had raised should be pretty much impermeable, but one never knew what one might encounter out in the open.
Smoke hung halfway down the domed ceiling, and the fire was flickering erratically, as if it, too, were struggling for breath.
Liane blinked, cursed, and snapped a spell at the top of the building she had just constructed, allowing the hot air, along with the smoke, to escape quickly. Her breath choked as the updraft drew what little air remained from the shelter, and Liane managed to create a few ventilation holes along the base of the shelter, allowing fresh air to be drawn in.
The smoke cleared almost immediately, and her breathing finally evened out. Liane glanced at Amy, who was awake and looking at her.
“My apologies, Assistant. It seems that making a heavily insulated shelter is good to keep one warm, but it does prevent both us and the fire from breathing.”
“Another lesson learned, Proctor,” the younger girl replied. “Thankfully, you caught it in time.”
Liane just shrugged, feeling worse than ever about placing Amy in yet another life-threatening situation of her own making. As if highwaymen and kidnappers weren't bad enough, she had to forget food, drink, shelter, warmer clothes, bedrolls, or anything else than any self-respecting woodsman would have. She couldn't even cook some food for her companion. She felt like a failure, both as a Noble and as Proctor.
Nobility really had been bad for her, Liane reflected as she settled down once more. Thanks to the fresh air that flowed into the shelter, she had to rest closer to the fire. Thinking yet again about a mattress or bedding, she didn't feel sleep overcoming her quickly.
When she woke the next morning, it was to the sight of a gently glowing fire and the smell of rabbit.
“Good morning, Liane,” Amy said, feeling assured of their privacy in the shelter. “I took the liberty of summoning another rabbit for breakfast,” the girl added, throwing a few branches on the smoldering fire, causing it to flare up, greedy flames licking at the moist wood, causing snapping and popping sounds.
Liane blinked at the new door that hadn't been present in the shelter she had originally built. “Good morning, Amy,” she answered. “It smells very good. Thank you.”
As the girl set to work on the cooked rabbit, preparing it to serve to both her Proctor and herself, she said, “I wanted to apologize again for my appalling behavior yesterday. I acted like a spoilt child. I'm very sorry, Proctor.”
Liane waved it off. “Let us call us both at fault, and move on, Amy,” she told the younger girl. “I should have prepared better.”
The girl looked relieved at her Proctor's words, and they breakfasted in silence, the only sounds coming from the stone cutlery and the crackling of the fire. After the meal was eaten, Liane used a few of the cleaning and hygiene spells she remembered from General Applications lessons, cleaning both their clothes and their bodies.
It covered them in a smell not unlike the smell permeating the hospital, a disinfecting magic smell that was unlike anything else, and both Liane and Amy regretted not having a shower or a way to do laundry.
When they were ready to set out, Liane collapsed the shelter, used a spell to turn the fire off and remove any remaining heat from the coals to prevent a forest fire, and cleaned the dishes and cutlery. One never knew when or where one would need plates, knife, and fork, so she elected to take the items with them.
After a few hours on the road, the open air and the gentle wind had removed any disinfectant smell from their clothes and bodies.
It was well after lunch time when they reached Sevenoaks, a town built along the shores of the Damme river. The town seemed fairly welcoming as they crossed one of the few large stone bridges in the neighborhood, the east-west main road crossing the north-south river.
They stopped at the Crossroads Inn, right where the main road turned north to run alongside the river, carefully skirting around the cursed Forest of Philip that formed the backdrop to the small bustling city. Carefully watching her Assistant, Liane tried to take in every action the younger girl performed as she unharnessed the horses and set them to water and eat at the inn's stables.
Not ten minutes later, both girls were lunching on stew. This recipe was more spicy then the blander version they had eaten at the inn they had stopped at the day before, and they actually ordered a second portion. Travel had sharpened their appetites, and the second portion took only marginally longer to consume.
They rested their sore bodies for a few hours, taking in the town and the seven magnificent oak trees in the town square that had given the town its name. Always conscious of their duty, and well aware that they weren't on a pleasure trip, Liane soon had them back on their cart, traveling further along the main road.
Soon, Sevenoaks has disappeared behind them and the Forest of Philip closed in on their right even as the river covered their left.
“I wonder why they didn't cut through the forest,” Amy said as the road turned to the east once more, continuing to skirt the forest's outer line.
“According to the atlas, that forest is cursed, Assistant,” Liane replied to Amy's observation. “Deep in the center of the forest, there is a clearing, in which the Master Necromancer Veyrùn once built his castle. He wished to be left alone, and cursed the forest, its grounds, its clearing and his castle.” She broke off her tale, and commented, “I wonder how strong the curse is, Veyrùn has been dead for at least 500 years, according to the atlas.”
Amy shrugged. “Maybe it was a permanent charm, and he buried a few anchor stones. In which case, the 'curse' would actually be a permanent charm, and could still be active.”
Liane nodded. “Good point, Assistant.” She looked at the tall trees that continued to encroach on the very edges of the road. They didn't look particularly unwelcoming, and she wondered how far into the forest one would have to travel in order to encounter the 'curse'. “Anyway, the forest gained its name from a particularly interesting tale.”
She licked her lips, and Amy eagerly awaited the story. When Liane called something 'interesting', it was bound to be very interesting indeed. “One day, Philip the Fiddler was on his way home from an engagement. He had misjudged both time and weather, as night fell and a heavy rain set in. rather than follow the main road around the cursed forest, he decided to cut straight through it, saving him hou
rs of travel time. The thick trees shielded him from the rain, yet the utter darkness confused him completely, and it was not long before he had become utterly lost.
“Finally, he arrived at a clearing, to find a magnificent castle waiting for him. Its drawbridge was down, and it's heavy iron grate was up. Heavenly music and mouth-watering smells greeted him as he stepped into the rain-soaked clearing to approach the building. As no guards were present, he shouted out a greeting as he crossed the bridge and traversed its defenses.
“He shouted once more when he arrived at the courtyard, and finally, shouted a third time when he entered the open front door to the main building itself. He arrived at a large room, a large table set with costly dishes taking up the center of the room, a large chandelier filled with wax candles providing almost daylight to the large room. As a musician, he had no eye for the costly dishes, and his eyes were drawn to the stage, where an orchestra was playing the most heavenly tunes he had ever heard.
“Much to his surprise, the orchestra was lead by Master Gilles, his old master, even though he had died at least ten years before. Philip's eyes roamed the other players. All of them were Masters of their trade and field, and all of them Philip believed to have died years ago. Master Gilles pointed – there was a spot free for Philip. Did he want to play?
“Taking his fiddle to hand, Philip mounted the stage and took his spot among the Masters, playing as he had never played before. His fingers seemed enchanted to hit the correct notes, his fiddle seemed magicked to create sounds he had never believed possible before. Throughout the night he played, until finally sleep overcame him.
“He awoke the next morning, with the sun high in the sky and the sounds of the forest around him. Stretching, Philip believed himself to have had a most marvelous dream, a dream where he, humble Philip, had a chance to play with the old Masters he had admired so much. He made to stand, and grabbed his fiddle and bow – and fell back down, for his bow was made from a human thighbone.”
Amy blinked, and made an impressed noise. “That is a wonderful tale. And involved some truly high-class magics, Proctor.”
Liane just nodded, and looked at the trees once more. “I wouldn't want to cross those defenses, Assistant. Illusions, glamours, some sort of mental reading spell to pull information from a subject's memories, and finally, a transmutation of the wood in a bow to a thighbone. Highly impressive, and I doubt I would be able to come up with a way to do it automatically without a lot of research, first.”
The young Assistant merely nodded. Despite not having changed since Liane began her tale, the trees somehow looked a whole lot more uninviting than they had earlier.
They left the main road hours later, when the sun was getting low in the sky and dinnertime was almost upon them. They had circled almost halfway around the forest, and the road had resumed its trek westward, while the outstretched Forest of Philip turned sharply south.
Far off to the west, they could see the imposing, majestic height of Mount Sina, the extinct volcano that dominated the center of the island of Kiria, pointing skyward.
The island mansion they were aiming at lay further down a dirt track that went south-west, and it was this dirt track that they were now following.
The sun almost kissed the horizon, and hunger made their stomachs growl, when the lake that was their target came into sight. Amy parked the cart under some trees, yet did not unharness the horses. She chose instead to tie the animals to the trees hiding the cart, so they could return to it and easily make their escape should it become necessary.
As they crept along the dirt road in the darkening twilight of the setting sun, the reality of what they were doing hit both Liane and Amy. They exchanged glances, both Proctor and Assistant reassuring the other that they were alright.
Nerves and excitement vanished their hunger, and their mouths turned dry as they tried to sneak. Each noise they made sounded like an explosion, making them twitch and turn as if the very darkness would consume them.
Remembering how the Warlocks that had once attacked her and Milor had used the shadows for travel, Liane wasn't sure if her nervousness at the darkness was unjustified.
When they reached the wooden bridge to the island that held the mansion where Milor was being held, Liane engaged her magic sight. A strange magical glow hung over the bridge, yet she couldn't determine what it did, or how it worked. Curious, she walked closer to investigate.
Still unable to determine its effects, she decided that it probably wouldn't do any harm. She motioned for her Assistant to follow, and set foot on the bridge.
She collapsed immediately. Surprised, Amy let out a small yell and rushed to her Proctor's side.
She collapsed as well.
Chapter Twelve
Pain.
Liane didn't like pain. She hated it with a passion, just like she detested hunger and despised feeling powerless in any shape or form. Stemming from her early childhood as an underprivileged orphan, Liane hated not being in total control, more than she hated anything else in her life.
The moment she crossed the magical threshold of the bridge, all she felt was a sudden spike of warning from her magic, followed by the total blackness of deep sleep. When feeling returned to her, pain was the first thing she felt.
Slowly, she blinked her eyes open, aware of someone groaning deeply as she did so – before realizing that she was the one making the undignified noise. Clamping her mouth shut, she attempted to take in her surroundings.
Milor's concerned face hovered in view over her, and Liane became aware of being flat on her back on some uncomfortable-feeling surface. “I am glad to see you awake, My Lady,” he said to her, and Liane winced when his soft voice boomed through her skull, rattling her brain.
“My Lord,” she whispered, wincing at the tightness of her throat. “I'm glad to see that you are alright.”
“Considering the circumstances,” Milor said, “I am.”
She grimaced when she sat up, suddenly realizing that he was naked from the waist up. Blinking, she stared at him, feeling a heavy heat spread to her body as she glanced at the tight muscles of his upper body. He was beautiful. Subconsciously, she licked suddenly dry lips as the heat spread through her body, making her cheeks blush.
“My apologies for my... dress, My Lady,” he muttered self-consciously, looking away, clearly uncomfortable under her gaze. She blinked, looking away from his half-naked gorgeous body. Pulling her mind away, she tried to focus on other things. Thoughts of her Assistant filled her mind, and she looked around.
Milor seemed to understand her searching gaze, and directed her. “Your Assistant is over there, My Lady,” he said, pointing behind her. Turning around on the improvised bed, Liane found Amy, completely asleep, curled on her side.
“She is alright. Just like you were, she appears to be asleep,” he added in. “May I ask what happened, why you are here, and why you are dressed like Commoners?”
Liane sighed. “When I was unable to find you at the Academy, I went to see the Lord Master,” she explained. “I did not wish to invade your privacy by scrying for you. As the rules of Equality bound the Lord Master's hands, I merely asked if you were alright. He told me that he did not know, which told me that you were removed from all modes of communication...” She halted there in an attempt to draw out an answer from Milor.
He simply nodded. Accepting that she still would not receive an answer to her questions, Liane continued her explanation. “Since the Lord Master's reply as much as told me that you were in trouble, My Lord, I then asked whether or not you were removed from communication by choice or force, to which the Lord Master replied that the Imperial Court decided to step in.” Again, she waited for a response to her unstated question.
Again, Milor simply nodded, although his face relayed the gravity of the situation. Sighing, she continued. “I asked for any information that he may be able to give me. The Lord Master explained that he only knew that you were behind solid wards, and that no scrying h
ad been able to determine your location.”
She swallowed, and very nearly hung her head. “That was my fault. The continuous experimentation in blood scrying and protections we have been practicing since our first year at the Academy has left you with an impenetrable defense against scrying. I explained this to the Lord Master, and volunteered my notes on the protections.”
Milor's face twitched in a wince, before he managed to hide it. “Precisely,” Liane answered the tiny expression as if he had openly displayed it. If he refused to answer her questions, despite the situation they were in, then she would make no effort to ignore his emotional expressions. “Politics would prevent the Imperial Blood Mages from accepting my notes, even if I were to offer them. The Lord Master then offered me a final piece of advice, and as much as told me to come after you myself, should I be successful. I successfully circumvented my own protections on you, and found your location, so here we are.”
“So that was the magical punch I felt a few days back,” Milor said. “It was as if magic was being sucked out of me.”
“That was my protections doing what they could to protect your location. I do not yet have a counter-spell to negate the protections, so I had to navigate around them with subtlety and force.”
Milor nodded, accepting both the explanation and the unvoiced apology for the discomfort caused. “Somehow I do not believe that the Lord Master meant for you to come after me, My Lady. And I certainly do not believe he recommended taking your Assistant with you.”
Liane turned to face him again, her eyes flashing to his bare chest and the strong muscles before drawing themselves to his eyes and firmly locking in place. She didn't want his enticing body to distract her. “The Lord Master said, and I quote: 'It is good to follow the rules set out by society, as they are what bind us together. Yet sometimes, a person must do what their heart tells them is right, despite the laws and regulations, and despite the outcome.' I took that as meaning that I should find you myself, My Lord.”
