Ennah

Sentisse, 66 years after the Rise

It sounds like somebody fired the crossbow with a triple powered skeet — or something even heavier. The sound reverberates through the air and sends a lonely bird screeching, a feather whirling through the air in his wake.

“What the—” Uncle Aniol starts, and I grab the doorframe so I won’t float up any higher.

“Càgila!” a booming voice announces.

If I thought something was raging in my belly before, it’s nothing compared to the flair of fear that jolts through me right now. Uncle Aniol is white as a sheet and even though I’m madder at him than I’ve ever been, I instantly know that I have to shut up and let my anger go — even if it’s just for now.

The thought of Càgila being on the premises has me gasping for breath, even when I remember Granny’s fierce monologues about how it’s useless to try and protect people from Damagic, and that they’re just leaching off the fear of the people. Knowing they’re no good actually makes this worse, for I have overheard conversations about their ways of convincing people to pay them for protection against Damagic. Even if half of it is true…

And now they’re here. We knew they were coming, but I never thought they’d come like this. Our guests usually have an appointment. They come in through the gate after which they are referred to the waiting area, where Uncle Aniol greets them with wine and the sheep cheese our neighbors produce. Only now the naivety of this dawns on me. We’re talking Càgila. Of course they won’t announce their visit, let alone wait for Uncle Aniol in the wairing area, seated on a nice bench lined with soft cushions, making observations about the weather with some wine and snacks on the side.

Yet again, I think this is overdoing it. Even for them.

“Ennah, inside,” Uncle Aniol snarls, and I think this is the first time I’ve ever willingly flung myself into the shed knowing it will be locked within a few heartbeats.

There’s no key in sight though.

“Don’t come out,” he warns me, his voice no more than a hiss. “As far as they know, I live alone now. Stay out of sight.”

I nod. “Does this mean…”

Uncle Aniol just purses his lips, and that says it all. If they’re this loud about their arrival, Damagic must be close.

Uncle Aniol closes the door and runs. I’ve never seen him run so fast — or at least, I hadn’t until Aunt Carme really turned for the worse. He caught up with me when I came to collect him on that fateful evening, and now he’s running like the wind once more. As I watch him, my stomach churns just as it did then. I hope he can appease Càgila, I hope they are truly on a mission to save people from Damagic. But here, in the shed where I can sometimes still hear Granny’s voice, I clearly remember her saying time and time again that there’s no way to be safe from Damagic and that they’re just a bunch of frauds exploiting scared people, using Magic to intimidate them.

Has Uncle Aniol listened to her? If he sends them on their way and Damagic does arrive at the vineyard, will I recognize it as such? Is Damagic somehow a part of me, and I of it? The fine hairs on my arms stand on edge when I think of it.

The back wall of the shed’s windows are placed very high up in the wall, allowing light to come in without much risk of revealing a toddler flying through the air to outsiders. Even though it’s nothing but sheep on that side of the mountain — or at least, I’ve never seen anyone. Now I feel like I have to go up to the windows, to see if the grass has turned purple, or if the sheep have grown extra heads. Damagic can do anything, good, bad and crazy, like Granny used to say. What if it is here?

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Nothing but sheep. Perfectly boring sheep, chewing on tough grass, as though Càgila’s bang was no more than a bout of gas being passed.

Have they grown this used to Uncle Aniol’s skeets?

I float down again, unable to hang still for even a moment. Càgila has taken all of my attention, but as my gaze falls upon the brew slowly bubbling on the simmering fire, my rage about Uncle Aniol spying on me floods back into my system. He’s heard the spell. Who knows how much he’s seen. Oh, I knew I saw shadows. I knew something was there. I should have taken flight and looked from a higher vantage point.

Has he seen the chest?

Without thinking twice, I hurl myself into the air again, reaching my precious chest not even two heartbeats later. If he saw me use the spellbook, I’d better hide it somewhere else. Somewhere he’ll never come looking.

When I carefully open the lid, hovering mid-air, the light radiating off my heart is duller than I would have hoped. Granny explained how this works to me once, something about the light Magic of the hearts turning into raw energy again as time passes. That’s why I trapped the heart she left me in a bottle. It has only disintegrated a little. My own fabrication is doing far worse. But I don’t have time to dwell on this. Who knows when Uncle Aniol will be back.

I take the book from the chest and close the lid again before returning it to the recess. Then I let myself drop down to the floor, my feet gently touching the ground. Without the ankle bracelets on, it doesn’t even feel that awful to walk.

Now, where to hide the book… I hold it against my chest as I look around. Inside one of the buckets? No, he’d find it way too easily if he were to start looking. It would be surprising if I hid it near the ground, but I don’t see any cracks or crevices that might harbor a book this size — or even a book ten times smaller.

On top of the closet? But should Uncle Aniol fetch himself a ladder, he’d spot the book right away.

My search is interrupted by another loud bang. It seems to have come from the other side of the mountain — our neighbors? Càgila must really be doing house calls. And this probably means Uncle Aniol is on his way here again. I’d better hurry.

The closet. Uncle Aniol has indeed boarded it up, and that might be the thing that saves me now. I open the door, ignore the darkness inside, and push myself off the floor.

Just as I thought. He’s nailed the boards against the old window frame from the outside, leaving a perfect rim for the spell book to stand on. I meticulously place it in the darkest corner and quickly leave this cramped, dark space again. It gives me the chills, and closing the door feels like a relief.

Feathers, I hope that hiding the book proves to be completely unnecessary, and I hope this hiding place is good enough even more so. With Uncle Aniol, I cannot be sure anymore.

Bastard. Why couldn’t he just trust me? What if he is planning to make my presence here obsolete?

I hear footsteps.

As fast as I can, I transport myself to the table and pick up the measuring cup that still needs to be cleaned, now that I think of it. Better do that fast, before he sees how much extract I used.

Uncle Aniol’s shadow is sliding by the window from left to right, and to my surprise he doesn’t even start yelling before he opens the door. He saves that for when there’s no wood barrier between the two of us. “Come with me!” he barks. “They’ve made a mess of things, we need to clean it up. And I need you to take one of the good barrels down from the attic.”

“What happened?”

He grits his teeth. “Apparently, if you flinch even a little about the price they ask, they use a little Damagic to demonstrate the effects of it.”

“What?”

“One of the Mages opened a bottle and let’s just say I’m very happy I didn’t take them to the good storage unit.”

“Oh.” I swallow. Damagic in a bottle, that sounds downright scary. And judging by the look on Uncle Aniol’s face, it is. “Was it… Did they ask that much?”

He snorts.

“Are you going to pay it?”

“Well, what choice do I have?” he yells. “Even if it means they have to work their Magic in a thousand bottles, they have to protect us. I cannot risk the vineyard. So…”

“You know Granny said-”

“I know what she said. But she’s dead, there’s no proof that she told the truth, and Càgila…” He snorts again. “Well, they make a pretty good case, don’t they? If Damagic doesn’t destroy this place, they will.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Thank you for stating the obvious.” His mouth is nothing but a thin line. “Now go. The mess won’t clean up itself, you know. And I…” His voice falters a bit. “I have some calculations to do.”

Feathers, I miss Granny. I miss Aunt Carme. I miss Amador. Taking a deep breath, I make for the door when Uncle Aniol snaps at me. “Put those things on your ankles, for fur’s sake. Who knows who’s lingered behind.”