“Orvil,” A woman called out from the back room of the shop. Gentle footsteps tapped on the polished floorboards. From behind the counter a door swung open on creaking hinges. A beautiful woman stood in the doorway; a bundle of dried herbs cradled in her arms.
"You better not be diagnosing my patients again." The woman's voice was warm and heavily accented. Coral couldn’t place the accent, but it put her in mind of the tropics rather than gloomy Direwood. While the pitch of her voice felt like warm honey caressing her, the inflection of her words was no-nonsense. This was a woman who didn't have patience for timewasters.
"I'm not doing anything of the sort!" The man said sourly. "Miss Seaver here was insisting on you, doctor."
Coral was surprised the man, Orvil, knew who she was. Coral had some experience with how gossip could spread like wildfire, but it was a little unnerving hearing her own name spread about. The town wasn’t that small. It seemed it was common knowledge for her having bought the abandoned mansion.
Maybe she should have thought of changing her last name? Would it be possible to be found if she had become unintentionally noteworthy? Would her mutton chop, handlebar moustache betrothed travel the four weeks it took to even get to Direwood?
Coral shook herself mentally. Of course he wouldn’t. He hadn’t even stopped by to have tea as a courtesy introduction meeting.
The woman raised a beautifully sculpted eyebrow at Orvil, scepticism written all over her face. There was not a single blemish on her richly umber skin. Which made Coral feel all the more self-conscious of her morning hangover and bedraggled clothes. She sniffed a little as a droplet of water dripped down the back of her neck.
In the medical profession, it was widely accepted that witches were the best doctors. They spent most of their lives dedicating their lives to the craft, combining their magical abilities with a scientific practices.
A healing balm applied didn’t quite work as quickly or efficiently as a witch doctors own concoction. Of course, anyone could become a medical practitioner. It wasn’t exclusively a witch’s role. There just weren’t enough witches in the world to go around.
A witch radiated an aura of energy. It was how they were distinguished from ordinary people, like Coral. That energy could then be transferred into the magic needed for healing practices. Or, far more nefarious antics. But that rarely happened, and when it did there was always devastating results. Who wanted to go up against someone who knew where to cut to cause the most damage? What poisons to use to cause you agony.
While most people could technically learn to use magic, a witch is born, not learnt. They use their own energy to transform and manipulate natural elements, which was what made them so good at healing. They enhanced properties that were beneficial for the body. If they advanced enough, they could even heal the body without herbs or poultices.
Their covens are a tight community of witch families, both male and females. Forging bonds between the most powerful individuals, which had the unfortunate circumstances of arranged marriages and planned births.
Every now and then, two perfectly average people could bring into this world a child blessed with a witches ability. It was more common for two powerful witch families to join together to produce a baby with significantly higher chance of a witchling with raised levels of magic.
Coral was impressed then, when she felt the aura of the woman emanate across the room, soothing her awful hangover. She hadn’t expected a witch doctor in Direwood.
The woman’s brown eyes travelled from the tall man, and then on to Coral, taking in her alarming appearance. “How can I help you?”
“If you please, I have a guest that requires a house call. He was attacked last night, and-“
“Attacked?” She said alarmed. “Orvil, watch the shop for me while I’m gone. Give me a moment and we can be on our way Miss Seaver. You’re fortunate that I had no appointments this morning.”
Did everyone know who she was? Clearly Coral was at a disadvantage not knowing anyone in the village. The delivery boy hadn’t wanted to speak with her, and the shop for supplies was content with taking mail orders.
“He appears to be well enough. Though he needed assistance to walk. I would have come last night for help; however wolves had chased him to the estate. It wasn’t safe.”
The woman dropped her bundle down on the counter and hurried behind to fish around below for a moment. She emerged with a large bag, her eyes round with shock. “Wolves, did you say?”
Coral bobbed her head.
“Orvil,” she snapped, her eyes flashing. “Why did you keep Miss Seaver waiting with something like this. Goodness knows their bites are terrible.”
“It’s Mr Acheron,” he said indignantly.
The woman paused in her stride past the counter, her face paling. “What? But what on earth is he doing out?” She turned to Coral, her shoulders stiff. “I’m afraid I may not be of any assistance. Mr Acheron would have me hanged for even attempting to look at any injuries he may have sustained.”
The woman braced her hip on the counter, crossing her arms. “Oh, this is terrible news. Wolves. Are you sure it was wolves that attacked Mr Acheron?”
“Quite sure, though I’ve never seen wolves quite as large as the ones at my gate last night. He said that they killed his horse too, but they seemed uninterested in the carcass, and more about killing Mr Acheron.” Coral shuddered at the memory, though that could have been the incredulous stare Orvil was giving her.
“His horse?” Orvil said, a note of surprise piquing his sour voice. “Mr Acheron doesn’t need a horse.”
“That’s what he told me,” Coral said. Perhaps Mr Acheron wasn’t being completely truthful with Pearl and herself. Coral wouldn’t have been surprised.
“Are you sure it’s Mr Acheron? Octavian Acheron that is.” Orvil asked, squinting at her.
“No,” Coral said, finally realising they were reacting to someone different. “Caspian Acheron. My apologies, I’m not familiar with anyone as I’ve had my hands full since arriving.”
Orvil threw his head back, sighing, and the woman visibly relaxed, slumping against the counter further.
“Caspian,” the woman said breathily. “He’s back? Well, that changes thing’s. Goodness, for a moment there I thought we were about to have a massacre on our hands.”
“A- I’m sorry, a massacre?” Coral repeated.
“You gave us a heart attack. Do you realise that, Miss Seaver?” Orvil grumbled at her. “I’ll be charging you a further ten percent for your sheer nerve.”
“Excuse you,” Coral said heatedly. “I can hardly be at fault if you did not clarify whom I was referring to.”
“It is you who is at fault here.” Orvil scoffed. “Do you have any idea what you could have done? No, you just waltz in here with not a care but for yourself. Dripping all over my floors. Bought that mansion when no one here would dare step in that place, against our town’s wishes, and-“
“Orvil!” The woman snapped.
“Spouting wishy washy lies about the wolves and the respectable Acheron family head.” Orvil’s voice grew louder as he continued his rant. He pointed his finger at Coral, jabbing it with emphasis.
“Orvil be quiet.” The woman warned. Orvil was not listening.
“You wait until The Dog House finds out about this. They’ll-“
“You’re not the doctor.” Coral pointed out, voice even and unrattled. Poise, and control. Let them see what kind of lady takes this kind of ridiculous heat. Coral had heard enough, and she was not going to stand there and be berated.
“And as much as it clearly irks you to not have the education or skilled qualifications of,” Coral gestured towards the woman, who was busy looking bemused at her.
“Sirona Thornheart,” the woman supplied.
“Doctor Sirona Thornheart,” Coral made sure to emphasis the doctor title, “I believe patient confidentiality is still a priority for all medical fields. Have some professionalism, sir.”
And, if Orvil even remotely tried to charge her an additional ten percent on whatever he was selling, she’d be sure to find a way to get a snippet of stinging root down the back of his trousers.
Coral had been right to guess that Orvil’s sore spot was his lack of witch abilities.
Orvil stood there with his sour face; his mouth pressed so firm he appeared lip-less. He clenched his fists, the knuckles going white. In stark contrast his neck became blotchy and red. He opened his mouth but was cut off with a gentle tone that had an undercurrent of warnings laced in every syllable.
“You are my employee, Orvil. I’ll not have you harass Miss Seaver, and I have a patient to attend to.” Doctor Thornheart said simply. She picked up her bag, and with a gentle, “Come along,” she left the store, into the rain.
Coral spared no further time on Orvil, turning on her heel and gliding out the shop with her head aloft, dignified as any high-ranking lady. Her hair dripped down the back of her blouse, hair ribbon sticking to her ear.
Outside, now that Coral had a moment to appreciate where she was, she took a moment to compose the agitation she still felt at not yelling at Orvil.
Coral would very much have liked to yell. Even, dare she think it, throw in a bit of a tantrummy foot stomps. Oh she hadn’t done that since she was five. She was too hungover to be berated of a mistake. Maybe she could calm her anger with a bit of cheese, or even some cake.
Across from the entrance to the Widow’s Poison, the Dire River cut through the centre of the town. It was just a stretch over from the cobbled path that lined the shop fronts. Several arching bridges had been set up to allow people to flit between either side of the river. A steady mist rose up, spreading a fog beneath the bridges like one were to cross a cloud rather than water.
They weren’t the only ones standing out in the rain, though they were the only people without an umbrella. A young man had been leaning up against the stone wall a couple of shops down, using the eave of a roof to protect him from the rain. He had a shock of red hair and a set of piercing blue eyes that Coral admired even from the distance. He grinned at her.
“What are you doing, eaves dropping outside my shop?” Doctor Thornheart called out to the young man.
He pushed away from the stone wall and jogged up to them. This close, Coral realised that he was tall, much taller than her, and still had boyish roundness to his cheeks.
“ I heard Orvil going off again,” he said, unrepentant. “What was he yelling about this time?”
“Don’t you have better things to do other than snoop into other people’s business. Keep that unnaturally good hearing of yours to yourself.” Doctor Thornheart said good naturedly.
“If it has anything with stirring up Orvil Norwood, I’ll find the time to be there.” He promised solemnly.
“Best find that Orvil doesn’t find you there.” Doctor Thornheart told him. “Now lend me your umbrella, and head back to that guild of yours before the old master finds you gone from your duties.”
Doctor Thornheart looked down at his hands expectantly, only to find them empty.
“I would, if I could. But I don’t have it on me.”
“You really did run over just to eaves drop.” Doctor Thornheart said bemusedly.
The young man shrugged a single shoulder, then motioned his head towards Coral. “Who’s this?”
If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
Coral started. By now she was assuming Direbrook would have started to recognise her as the new face in town. Though she had spent the majority of the month feverishly cleaning and sorting the manor.
Realising that she was gormlessly standing there like a sodden frog, she bobbed her head in greeting. “I’m Coral Seaver. Lovely to meet you.”
“Elwin Hunt,” the young man said, offering up another grin. “So have you truly bought that old mansion?”
Alright, maybe her face was unfamiliar, but her name was noteworthy. “I have,” Coral told him.
“Must be brave, buying an old necromancer’s house.”
What.
Doctor Thornheart scoffed. “You know the house was cleared out of anything even remotely nefarious. Don’t scare her like that.”
“Yes, Elwin,” Coral told him, her heart in her mouth. For a moment there she thought her most excellent idea, was in fact awful. So that must be why no one wanted her to buy the manor. The locals had protested her purchase when she first enquired and had thought it had something to do with a closed off community.
Necromancers were awful. If she had known prior, it would have weighed in on her decision to purchase the estate. Regardless, it was hers now. In the month that she had been under its roof, nothing untoward had happened.
“It strikes me as odd, that no one mentioned that to me when I did buy it.” Coral said thoughtfully. The estate was valued at an extraordinarily good price.
“Probably because it scares off any extra business from a fresh coin purse. What with the annual undead night, apart from the additional adventurers, not many people actually come to Direwood.”
“The what?” Coral asked, her voice now hushed.
Doctor Thornheart sighed. “You were bound to find out eventually. Its just before the mid-winter festival. If you remained in Direwood that is.”
Elwin’s eyes sparked with a light enthusiasm that Coral couldn’t quite understand. On the odd occasion when necromancy was still legal, now rightfully against the law for the rotten practice, they sometimes caused cemeteries to become overrun with suddenly animated corpses.
It hadn’t ever happened in the city she was from. Every now and then a far-off village would still be having trouble with the undead and would require the help of an adventurer to deal with them. They required a special type of weapon designed to destroy the spirit inside the corpse, otherwise it flitted off into the next available carcass. Usually, the town or village just ended up abandoned if the source of the problem couldn’t be found. The source was almost always a necromancer was taking up residence and still practicing the evil magic.
“Once a year, the cemetery becomes overflowing with them!” Elwin explained, his excitement palpable. “It’s the best night all year.”
“I beg to differ,” Doctor Thornheart said dryly. “Those that can’t fight are locked up in the Adventurers Guild or The Dog House until the night is done.”
“O – Oh, I see.” Coral stammered. It was the middle of autumn, so did that give her another two months to prepare for a night of the undead? Her manor was a good distance from the very large cemetery. Perhaps she would be fine if she stayed in her manor. The gates did hold up against the wolves.
Doctor Thornheart held her bag aloft as a shield to keep her head from getting too wet. “I need an umbrella; it’s pouring too much to walk to your estate Miss Seaver, or we’ll both be soaking wet.”
“I’ll come with you,” Elwin said eagerly, offering an arm to both Coral and Doctor Thornheart. They set a quick pace down along the path, all the while Elwin chattering happily.
“I’m with the Adventurers Guild, Miss Seaver. Been training since I was eight years old. Old Master Winters has been seeing to my training himself. I’m going to be the greatest hero this world has ever seen. You wait and see,” he jostled Coral a little, shaking his arm enthusiastically.
“I still have a fair way to go, I’m still an apprentice. Three more years and I’ll be a fully-fledged adventurer.”
Three more years put Elwin at around fifteen years old. Adventurers were only fully qualified when they turned into an adult at eighteen. Albeit they generally were never able to take on the more treacherous tasks. Even if an apprentice was brought along on expeditions into caves and dungeons, fighting creatures, and dealing with the occasional bandit, they were still considered inexperienced. They earned a title with their accomplishments.
Coral herself would be more inclined to select a titled adventurer, or Hero, as they sometimes like to call themselves, to placate any monster that deemed to give her trouble.
With Elwin's long legs, his stride was significantly larger than theirs. Both Coral and Doctor Thornheart had to jog to keep up with his pace. Not that she was complaining, Coral didn’t want to walk in the rain. Her hangover hadn’t quite let up yet.
Elwin was leading them straight to the far end of the street, where she could see a wooden sign swinging lightly from the rain, the name of the shop, Cravings and Delirium painted across the surface.
“Always wanted to be a hero, fighting monsters. Their more common around this part, or so I’ve been told. Do you get many monsters from where you’re from Miss Seaver?”
“Please, call me Coral. And no, not many. Of course, there are thieves, the usual thugs in the city, and bandits. But they weren’t much of a problem for me. The town guards kept them out, and I was almost always within the city.”
“More pickings for bandits closer to the cities,” Elwin surmised. He propped open the bright red door to Cravings and Delirium, motioning for Coral and Doctor Thornheart to enter first.
Cravings and Delirium was a hodgepodge of edible goods, general supplies and bric-a-brac. Candles were stacked of all shapes and sizes at the first display, followed by lanterns and two chandeliers. Rugs were rolled and set vertically against a wall; their vibrant hues only able to be seen by peeling back the corners. Coral, Elwin and Doctor Thornheart walked by these, and past a neatly stacked pile of firewood.
Doctor Thornheart broke off from their little group to examine the cloaks and hats hanging from an ornate rack. Coral made a note that this place would be good to peruse once she had more coin to spare on that sort of thing. The shop itself was wonderfully warm.
Towards the back there were chairs and bedding, kitchen utensils and of course there was food goods as well. Sugar, chocolate, perfume and music boxes. Dried flowers hung from the ceiling, with drapes and an assortment of glittering crystal chimes.
Beside the apples and berries, was a decent display of swords and hunting bows. Coral blinked and reached out to touch one.
“Looking to get yourself a sword?” Elwin asked, inspecting them. “They aren’t terrible, these. Between you and I,” He leant close to whisper in Coral’s ear. “You’re better off getting them from the blacksmith.
“I’ve never held a sword in my life.” Coral told him. “And I should hope to never need one.”
Elwin winked a stunning blue eye at her. “I’ll keep you safe.”
Coral silently choked with surprise. Elwin was all courage and smiles. It was also a shock adjusting to the relaxed lifestyles smaller towns were used to. Not that she was complaining. She preferred down to earth mannerisms. She wanted to be humble and smile easily and not worry about proper aristocratic etiquette. It hadn’t suited her. It wasn’t her.
This place isn’t your tight-lipped, snobby nosed general goods store, Coral reminded herself. This was the real world. She better start getting used to it.
Coral wandered back towards the counter where an array of pamphlets and orders had been left. Advertisements were displayed here, for all sorts of goods. She had stopped here once before for her first order of cheap wine, which still, was an excellent decision. She was about to turn away when a flyer caught her eye. Colours of lemon, violet, orange, crimson red, royal blue and pink splashed across the parchment. Flower petals were dotted throughout, providing a lovely texture. Coral picked up the advertisement and she pursed her lips thoughtfully. It read:
MOTHERS NATURE
Snap-dragons of all varieties. Perfect for gardens, parties or to liven up your home. Available in an array of colours and mixes.
Tea-cup, Butterfly, Candy, Double Supreme, Night and Day, Intermediate, Frosted Flames, Dwarf, Trailing
Pearl would love some snapdragons for the garden, and it would help to break up the hundreds of moonflowers covering every inch of space it could grow.
Coral could afford to buy some as a surprise for her sister. The flowers could be cut and used in the bouquets Pearl was so fond of making. She quickly placed an order, along with a few other standard necessities, like more cheese for herself. She felt like her morning hadn’t been completely wasted, though her purse was considerably lighter. She was going to have to work faster to get the inn set up to attract customers.
Doctor Thornheart approached the counter with a cloak instead of an umbrella, having been all sold out.
“Elwin, are you familiar with the wolves in the area?” Coral asked.
“Of course,” he grinned. At what, Coral didn’t know.
Doctor Thornheart shot him a cautionary glare from over her shoulder. Coral briefly wondered at the hard look, then went on with her line of questioning.
“The reason of my need of Doctor Thornheart today is that there was an incident at my estate.”
“I know, heard all about it early this morning from my Pa. Pretty riled up he was.” He chuckled.
“He knows? How?” Coral asked shocked. Coral had definitely underestimated how quickly news spread in a small town. How did anyone keep a secret in Direwood? Everyone seemed to gossip worse than little old men.
Next time she came into town, Coral was not going to be hungover, and preferably not soaking wet. She was too uncomfortable to deal with all this rumour mongering. Perhaps the stories she had heard had some truths to them, like extra-large wolves. But now she couldn’t help but feel the stories get emphasised by those who live small town lives.
Elwin just shrugged at her. “He was in the area. He’s a hunter.”
Coral disregarded her next question of ‘What on earth do you feed those things’ and replaced it with “Have they ever killed anyone?”
“You aren’t in any danger of those wolves, Miss Seaver. Let me assure you now. They won’t attack you.”
“Somehow I don’t believe that” Coral scoffed. “They attacked Mr Caspian Acheron last night. His horse is dead.”
“Well,” Elwin said, rubbing the back of his neck and inspecting a large painting of a busty woman. “I can’t say that they haven’t ever attacked anyone. But the wolves only ever attack if they have a reason to.”
Coral sighed. “That’s not very reassuring. What if they ever find me threatening? I’m the one that must trapse in and out of the place.”
More importantly it would be terrible for business. How would she ever get any customers if they had to dodge wolves to get to the front gate.
Elwin snorted. “Lady Coral you’d be tiny pickings for them. Even so, how about this.” He puffed his chest up and gave her a charming grin. “I’ll escort you should you ever need it. The wolves will leave us alone as soon as they see I’m with you.”
“Oh, please Goodness help me,” Doctor Thornheart muttered from beneath her breathe. She busied herself by pulling on her new cloak.
Coral agreed wholeheartedly with this sentiment. She wasn’t quite sure if Elwin was flirting with her. Or, and she was more inclined to believe, it was his daring to become a hero that he offered his protection. While she appreciated the gesture from Elwin, it didn’t sit right with her having a young boy escort her. Or even winking at her for that matter.
Coral stared as Elwin took a wide stance, and she was sure he was trying to flex without being obvious about it. She didn’t know what was worse, to let him continue his stance or to stop watching the display. In a way it was almost, well, endearing. He still had a long way to go to build up some muscle, he was closer to the spindlier end of physiques. But his ambition to be more than what he was now, Coral saw a piece of herself. She wouldn’t discourage his dreams. She was following her own after all. Perhaps she could gently guide him to pose less awkwardly.
When Doctor Thornheart had her cloak wrapped snuggly about, her medical bag tucked underneath, they set off, finally, back towards the manor. Elwin followed along, and at the third bridge he waved goodbye and parted, headed to what was clearly the Adventurer’s Guild tucked against the curve of the stream.
The building was beautiful. Three stories high, with a steepled roof and an enormous round window at the centre of the building. An enormous arched entrance embellished with intricate stone carvings. From this angle Coral could see the back of the building was built right up to the Dire River, with balconies overhanging the water. A deep blue banner was set on either side of the building, flapping gently in the rain. The Adventurer’s Guild sigil emblazoned at its centre in gold. Each guild had their own individual sigil, and with it, a unique spell designed only for the guild members.
Coral had always been intrigued by magic. Though she had never had to opportunity to learn the practice itself. Mage craft was notoriously difficult to master, and significantly dangerous to handle. Many lives were lost each year from apprentices during their study from something going wrong. Coral, having the father that she did, had viciously warned her off it. A gentle lady didn’t use magic. A pocked face or missing limbs would detract from the price dear daddy could sell her for at the highest price. However, it didn’t stop Coral from learning what she could. Under complete secrecy of course.
Only a member could activate the sigil of their guild. She wasn’t sure what Direwood’s sigil did exactly, but generally it was used in combat for defence. Coral made a note to learn what this was next time she spoke with Elwin.
A small dock had been set up slightly further down from the bend in the river. Stairs led up from this dock to a small garden set to the side, and trailing ivy and moss dripped down from the decorative stone railing.
A lone boat was docked at the pier. From the tangerine sails and a squiggly sigil, Coral could see another adventurer was visiting Direwoods Adventurer Guild.
Directly opposite the guild, another imposing building stretched up from the river embankment. This too was three stories high, and clearly went further down, as the stone that had been built into the river had small windows poking just above the water line.
A smaller wing poked out from the side, positioned over the road they walked. An archway had been set below the building to allow use of the road. The local grey stone was used in the construction and the architect had incorporated the lumber from the surrounding forest. Arching timber trusses had been set at the peak of the gable roof, another story higher than its wing. It was a very handsome building and was particularly odd that it was the local tavern, called The Dog House.
The tavern was closed at this hour, which let Coral feel just a little bit more dignified in what she was about to do. She hitched her skirt up, stuck her leg out and wiggled it a bit. There. Now her father really could roll over in his grave. It wasn’t that scandalous, really. Women these days were starting to favour shorter skirts. Coral obviously was banned from this too. She wholeheartedly intended to obtain a skirt that was above her ankles. But this one act in defiance of her father’s memory felt more freeing than when she had first run away. Now Coral really could say she flashed some skin at the local clodpoll’s tavern.
“Something wrong with your leg?” Doctor Thornheart asked. She stood a few paces in front of Coral, her face carefully blank.
“Shaking out some bad memories.” Coral told her.
The walk back to the manor was brisk. Doctor Thornheart set a quick pace, which Coral only half minded. She wanted to be back home to dry off. Her shoes were filled with water and with every step she could feel squishing between her toes. The road back to her manor was covered with rain-slicked leaves, so she slipped and slide every few paces. She was also starting to sniffle a bit. Runny nose, sodden shoes, wet skirts slapping her legs, a hangover and an argument. It wasn’t even midday yet!
She should have a slice of cake for lunch to balance out the lousy morning.
Relief flooded through Coral as she spotted the manor’s peaked roof over the treetops. Propped between the chimneys stood a mass of darkened stone that was barely discernible from this distance. The gargoyle. A great stone monstrosity of a thing, with outspread wings like a bat, the front chest and legs of an eagle and a face of a lion. Much like a Chimera. However, Coral had thought it perched over the tower roof, hanging from the edge with its head outstretched. Looking at the manor from this angle provided a whole new view she hadn’t seen before. It really was striking, even with the manor’s crumbling walls. The ivy growing up it’s walls hid a lot of the damage the building had suffered from being abandoned and exposed to the elements. Coral was still sure, despite her morning, that buying the manor had been an excellent idea.