» 09 – The Guide «
MARCHLANDS. WÙDĂO VILLAGE.
June wakes, eyes opening to stare at the ceiling of a foreign room. Turning on her side, she takes in the haunting nostalgia of her surroundings as she blinks away sleep.
It wasn’t a dream.
She almost wants to laugh. It’s the first night in a long time she hasn’t woken to night terrors.
The innkeeper has set her clean clothes and breakfast by the door, and June gets dressed with the dawn. It’s dark out, but even years on her body can still sense the sun preparing to crest the horizon. The wind chills away the last of her sleep as sits in the open doorway to the garden, taking in the petrichor and fresh air as she eats a breakfast of rice porridge mixed with vegetables and herbs.
No time like the present, June wakes the unenthusiastic duo next door, ignoring their cries of protest. Heading into the street, she receives directions on where to find Meilin from an early-rising street vendor preparing for the day ahead.
Not connected to the shrine, June notes as she approaches Meilin’s small abode, a kind of attic one can reach from the street. It was unusual for the cunning folk to have children, but she’d assumed they’d be afforded lodging with their parent. Perhaps Meilin just wanted the autonomy, something June couldn’t begrudge anyone.
The front door is open as June approaches, and she hovers on the threshold, waiting while the girl inside splashes water on her face.
Meilin is dressed in a dark grey cardigan wrapped over a lighter grey tunic and loose cotton dress, cinched at the waist with a belt. Thick socks cover her legs, stuffed into practical leather boots, while a brass, compass-like pendant hangs from a chain around her neck. Practical, but still someone who cares about their appearance, June decides; though she could have guessed that from the dyed blonde hair, an oddity in this part of the Marches.
“Nice outfit,” June comments. “Very soft goth.”
Meilin looks up from the ceramic bowl, eyes uncomprehending, though they harden when she sees who’s standing there. Despite what she’s tried to hide with water, the redness betrays her.
She’s been crying, June realises. Shit.
“Ah, sorry, I just wanted to thank you,” June continues, running a hand through her hair. “For what you did for Ewan. You saved his life.”
“Apologetically scraping won’t make it any easier to forgive you,” Meilin says icily.
“I—I’m sorry.” June takes a step back. “I’m not sure what I did.”
“Why didn’t you tell me outside the shrine, rather than make me have to hear it from her?”
June raises her hands. “Meilin, I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She tilts her head, watching for a lie perhaps. “My Mother is making me your ward. You’re to take me with you, back to Earth.”
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June blink. What?
“Huh. So you didn’t know.” Meilin frowns sadly. “That’s good at least, if very like Mother.”
“Meilin—I—I can’t be your guardian. I already have Kyra and Ewan I need to look after.”
She gives a short, mirthless laugh. “You think I want this?”
“I’ll—I’ll just not accept,” June stammers.
“You can’t.” Meilin tightens her satchel strap and pushes past June, leaving the hut. “Charter Law demands it.”
June stays rooted to the spot, watching Meilin disappear into the distance behind a tangle of buildings. Petrichor fills the air, though now it just feels sharp and cutting.
Bloody hell. She leans against the doorframe, eyes scrunched shut in frustration. I already have two kids to babysit, I can’t…
“What was her mother thinking?” she asks herself.
Cunning folk games, her mind answers. One more thing she hasn’t missed the past five years.
Glancing down towards the base of the village where Kyra and Ewan would no doubt be waiting to leave, June sighs. Looks like they’ll have to wait a little longer.
#
“Lady Winters.” The wise woman doesn’t even turn from her position kneeling in front of the crystalline dragon, seeming to know instinctively who just pushed open the shrine door.
“Teacher,” June replies, inclining her head. “I think you can guess why I’m here.”
She lets the door click shut behind her, leaving the two of them alone in the dim light and smoke of the shrine. It’s almost nostalgic here; the way all five dragon shrines seem to look the same across the Marchlands.
“You’ve spoken with Meilin then.” Lin rises, robes sweeping as she turns to face June directly.
“You have a good explanation for invoking Charter Law to force me to take your daughter as my ward, I hope.” June puts a hand to her hip, waiting for an answer she knows isn’t coming. Given her obligation, the woman doesn’t need to do any convincing, and thus she doesn’t have to do any explaining either.
“From everything I’ve heard, I believe I can trust you with my daughter’s life, Lady Winters. I’d hoped that would be enough to buy me a little leeway.”
“And what if I refuse?” June asks.
“We both know you won’t,” Lin answers matter-of-factly. “You wouldn’t risk any harm to your reputation now. Not when you need it for people other than yourself.”
Pinching the bridge of her nose, June screws her eyes shut, not minding that Lin sees her frustration. Bloody cunning folk.
“I… I can’t guarantee I can protect her,” she returns carefully.
“I’m doing this to protect her,” Lin says.
“I don’t think she sees it that way. Hell, I’m not even sure if I do, given you’re putting her right next to the Hero.”
“She’ll understand one day. You as well, I hope. I have seen many things to come in the cunning, and few bode well.”
June folds her arms. “You know as well as I do that you can’t use the cunning to see the future.”
“And who broke their vows to tell you that, I wonder?” Lin arches an eyebrow. “No matter. You should know too then that I don’t need magic to see your arrival here is a dark omen. Perhaps not ill tidings for today, or even tomorrow, but one day soon the Marchlands will look back fondly on yesterday.”
“And you want your daughter, what? Prepared?”
“I’ll leave that to your discretion, as her guardian. But just keep this in mind, Lady Winters. Marchers these days whisper of no longer needing a Hero, for we have gone five years without one.” Lin crosses the space between them to stand properly before June, the gold of her dark eyes almost aglow this close. “They have, of course, never stopped to consider that we have not needed a new Hero until now.”
That, of course, was June’s fear.
“You’re not an optimist then, I’m guessing.”
Lin offers June a genuine smile, the naked emotion jarring on the wise woman’s face. “Pot meet kettle.”
She turns back then, however, pulling into her role as she moves to return to her position in front of the dragon. June wonders if the smile had simply been to remind her that not only the Titled were bound by their position. Either way, the moment already feels long gone, and June turns to leave as well.
When she reaches the door, however, she pauses, glances back. “You know a lot about Charter Law for one of the cunning folk.”
“We were both different people I think, Lady Winters,” the wise woman replies. “In another life.”
~***~