“Come now boy, over here!”
Charis turned to see an ancient; so heavily wrinkled in the face Charis thought her face would crack and fall off. She was smaller than Charis and harmless, well harmless in appearance at least. This frail old woman was easily the oldest person Charis had ever seen in her short life, her mind not quite believing what her eyes showed her. Charis didn’t move any closer to her though as she wasn’t sure who to trust.
“Why, old one?”
“Obvious, isn’t it? So, you don’t go in there and fall under his spell, that’s why, you silly boy!”
Extremely direct Charis thought so she felt better going to her, you wouldn’t be short with someone if you were trying to gain their trust to trick them, would you? The elder quickly latched the door behind Charis once she entered her cottage and without a word led her to the upper floor by climbing a roughhewn, makeshift ladder. Calling it an upper floor was being extremely generous for only a shelf of sorts existed under the thatched roof where the elder made her bed.
“He visits every Birth Season as the gathering starts and I assume he visits more than this village.” Waving her finger across the shelf she adds, “Sneak a peep through the tiny hole in the thatch roof over there to get a better look at them all. Friendly, telling him all they know, and he asks questions of his own which they eagerly answer and who knows what he does with the information he harvests?”
“Why tell me all this?” Charis asked.
“My mother, her mother, and her mother and so on all practised magic, over the years the magic went away and their ability to cast magic faded and what they passed to each but a shadow of what their mother could cast. So now, I can only sense magic. I sense something in you boy, or should I say girl,” said the elder, who then cackled.
Charis tried to cover her shock without success.
“That alone would be enough to ask your story. Never heard, let alone seen, a girl pretending to be a boy. You are different and different is what is needed here I think.”
The elder shuffled down from her upper floor.
“Come on down I can tell you what happens, it is always the same, year after year. I witness it each time and can do nothing.” The resignation in the elder’s voice sounded pitiful.
Charis backed down the ladder and turned to face the old woman. She invited Charis to sit at a well-worn sturdy wooden table with a cup of tea ready for them both before she spoke again. While Charis was cautious, her new acquaintance seemed completely trusting, displaying a calm to rival Charis’ father. Perhaps with age, this is a natural thing, thought Charis who then wondered at what age, exactly.
Looking around there were jars of this and that on shelves with some scribble on them, Charis couldn’t read the labels although she knew how to read. She sipped her tea, and she noticed the tea didn’t come from one of the jars on the shelves. Its container belonged in a small cupboard near a wood-fired stove. The stove was a square iron box on four legs with a stovepipe to take the smoke away, which passed through the wall first and then probably upwards to reach the sky.
“He notes and remembers the brightest, the smartest, the most promising, and I suspect they disappear never to be heard from again. We see the failed return to the village, of course, nowhere else for them to go.”
Charis heard her frustration.
“We occasionally see the adequate few, not the accomplished, those competent enough to keep faith in the system. We never see the most promising return, not even the boastful ones whose ego would demand them return and lord it over the lessor ones left behind or those rejected. It is all his doing and I suspect others like him.”
She rested her talking for a moment and sipped her cup of tea, savouring this simple joy in her long life.
“You wonder why this hasn’t been stopped, don’t you. When accused he always has a reason, an excuse or he is their friend, their trusted friend and usually, the accuser is soon the one in trouble and eventually disappears, never to be heard from again. So, you must be careful, if I can sense you with my meagre affinity for magic, he has much more than I, it is a wonder the magic you have within you doesn’t glow bright and strong to him.”
“I don’t magic. He passed us by on the road in and didn’t sense anything in me. I know, he gazed directly at me and kept striding down the road,” Charis replied.
“Give me your hands, I will try something, and no it won’t hurt.”
Charis wished she could develop that skill, knowing the questions people were about to ask before being asked.
Charis carefully gave over her hands into the elder’s surprisingly soft hands, although wrinkled as if they rested in water for too long. The elder then closed her eyes and when she opened them, she smiled, she smiled a wide smile, a very happy smile revealing her worn-down teeth. She left her chair at the table and carefully shifted a plank of wood from the underneath of her upper floor. Behind this simple ruse was a book, which with reverence she laid out on the table. The bindings were loose, so pages tried to escape when it opened, which she deftly swept back into place.
“Yes. Let us try this spell. Only my great, great, great, great grandmother could cast this spell, as there hasn’t been enough magic in the world since her time. I need you to grip my shoulders as I need my hands free to cast.”
When Charis placed her hands on the elder’s shoulders, she heard the old woman mumble some words from the spellbook, her hands move in an intricate fashion and then finished the performance by touching Charis’ hair with a black feather. Charis felt the silver circle warm slightly and then fade back to normal. When she finished Charis didn’t notice anything different. Did she imagine it?
“Sit and look into your cup as I pour some water in.”
Charis did a double take, her hair colour changed. From her deep earth brown to a deep raven black. She gawked at the elder, eyes wide.
“Yes, my dear, you powered the spell. I have no magic. So how did you?”
Charis sat down at the table and slowly untied her shirt. She then slowly removed the binding around her breasts. After being with Otonia, revealing her breast to a stranger didn’t seem as awkward as she thought it would be. She felt for the silver circle and then assisted the elder’s fingers to locate it.
“Where did you acquire such a gift?”
“It cost the life of my best friend. Found on a man, not unlike the traveller, less open and more secretive though. I placed it in my shirt pocket for safekeeping and went to sleep. A pain in my breast eventually woke me. The silver circle had melded within my breast and since, given the need of the binding, has moved well within my breast.”
“Reach for it with your mind, it is a part of you now, command it, move it to where you want it.”
“Where it is now is fine.”
The elder’s look of disgust and implied threat to slap her motivated Charis to try.
Charis sensed it by picturing the silver circle as she first saw it. She felt it with her fingers below her smallish nipple, still within the flesh of her breast and connected the two in her mind’s eye the memory of it and her touch of it. Then she imagined it in a different place. She urged it to move, to circle under her nipple, under the darker skin around her nipple. A slight stabbing pain, bearable though as she felt it move both inside her breast and by touch using her fingers on her skin.
“Wonderful!” the Elder exclaimed.
“Now move it to your opposite breast, the same place is fine, with your mind only, imagine where it should be and command it.”
Charis felt the adventure and the spirit the elder radiated. She should be embracing this, given the cost to her; she needed to celebrate this discovery. Charis owed an obligation and a debt to Halius to make sure she learnt as much as possible about the gifts she found. Were they gifts she then asked herself or blood payment? Her guilt erupted; she managed to find the wrong in benefitting from Halius’ death again.
No pain this time, with willpower and fortitude she denied both sources, silver circle and Halius’ death. Then with determination, she rejected her convenient build-up of guilt due to self-blame, she wasn’t the cause, no one could have saved her true friend from the deceit of the stranger. Halius’ death now provided her with a means to avenge him which instantly reconciled her purpose and Charis embraced her gifts paid for in blood given, friendship lost, and life sacrificed, an alliance and partnership sealed forevermore. She felt the silver circle move across her chest under the skin and settle effortlessly, a perfect circle under the dark skin around her left nipple.
The old lady clapped her hands, a gentle patter. “You are a clever girl! You must master this magic but be careful. Any magic taught to you will be theory only, no one has access to real magic anymore. A few can draw from their own life energy to power a spell although they usually require substantial rest and food afterwards. One of my ancestors practised her magic that way, always eating, so generally the larger the magician the greater the magic. Don’t be surprised though if you see them thin occasionally.” She cackled. “If you need to it is probably the best time to attack them, then, as they have no reserve to cast any spell at you. Let us hope it doesn’t come to that.”
She patted Charis’ hands with her own, her excited joy infectious. Charis could tell the elder jubilant and pleased enough for them both.
“Why can’t I read your spellbook and cast any spell within?” Charis asked.
“Unfortunately, magic isn’t always simple, the hand movements must be precise, which takes practice, some spells require ingredients, and some spells require an incredible amount of preparation. Moreover, my book of spells is for the countryside, for farmers and their wives, some animal illnesses, and the like. You need to obtain access to some of the ancient, grander spell books in the City. They possess the real spells, and we have proven you can access real magic which will enable you to cast them!”
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“Thank you for all your help, I will never forget you. I must try to rescue my friend as we were due to go our own ways and I can’t leave her with the traveller knowing she will probably die.”
“You can’t, the traveller will know all about you now or at least whatever your friend knows about you. He will be hunting you and you alone as I am not sure any of them in this year’s gathering rate much of a mention against you to interest him. You must leave now and never look back until you reach the City.”
Her wrinkled hands held both of Charis’ in a tight grip although she wasn’t strong enough to hold them, Charis thought, if Charis really wanted to leave.
“I can’t, she is my friend, and I can’t lose another, like the others I lost from doing nothing. I swore to myself if I could, I would act,” Charis replied with conviction.
With not much more to say Charis sat observing the Inn from a lonely chair in a rundown cottage, staring across the dirt road waiting for the traveller to emerge. While she waited, the elder fussed around her, reading a page from her family spellbook, and then touching Charis to leech the required magic. When required the elder would use one or more of the ingredients carefully labelled and bottled on her shelves.
“You don’t know any spells, do you? Still, you can bend the magic to your will?” the elder asked.
“I know no spells. I am not certain bending the magic is right. All I know is when I will something strongly it tends to happen or at least helps.” Charis surprised herself with the explanation, she thought about her luck, and it seemed more helpful after she bonded with the items. She but needed to remember the Duke’s soldiers and the farmer’s son driving the wagon. None of them looked in the tray where she hid under a cover. So obvious a hiding place and they rode away without checking.
Charis turned from watching the Inn especially to study the elder’s reaction.
“I have been lucky. It is the only explanation I can think of for some of my unusual escapes. The difference I think you could say.”
“How do you know this?”
Charis’ dropped her head and didn’t want to say, the shame, one of the reasons for trying to rescue Otonia due to the guilt she felt for failing others.
Sensing Charis’s discomfort the elder said, “We all have done or will do things we aren’t always proud of, as long as we learn from them and allow ourselves to forgive it is the best we can hope for.”
The elder gently touched Charis’ shoulder in sympathy, their eyes met for an instant, although their smiles expressed slightly different emotions.
“I hid when I shouldn’t have. I called upon a God’s favour and didn’t do what I promised.”
Charis swiftly returned to duty, staring at the Inn. The memory burnt her, and she shut her eyes to avoid a tear.
“You saved your life from danger. You can forgive yourself. The Gods are deaf these days, but what did you promise?”
“Scared and crying, not only did I leave him to die I didn’t burn him like I promised the Goddess Jury.”
“Forgive yourself, hiding is sensible when faced with probable death and I doubt you could have saved the other with you. It wasn’t your duty to burn him, such duty belonged to those who killed him.”
“I wanted to be brave and true to my word, I did, I just didn’t know how.” Tears gently rolled down her cheeks.
The elder embraced Charis and whispered quiet soothing words in her ear reassuring a young, scared girl she wasn’t alone, and being upset is natural as is forgiving yourself.
“All I know is I somehow moved away from the soldiers and my friend on the road, I tripped and rolled into the long grass, scrambling away, telling myself, I can’t be seen, I can’t be noticed, ignore me. I am not important.” Charis placed her face in her hands.
“Don’t hide.” The elder gently pulled Charis’ hands away from her face. “You have every right to survive, every right to forgive yourself.”
Charis blinked away a well of tears. “I couldn’t understand how they didn’t see me, worried they were pretending, and they would catch me any moment. I only felt safer when I found this village. Then this traveller arrived.”
“Well, I suspect you called upon the magic of the item you have. You willed an outcome and the magic in the item made it a reality. As for burning his body, you would at least need an axe for the wood. Has anything else like that happened?”
“Yes. I think so, it is sometimes difficult to tell, you know. You always want the best to happen, so you don’t doubt it when it happens, as you need it to happen. Does that make sense?”
The elder continued with her experiments in silence except for some spell mutterings. Charis paid little attention being on watch being busy she did best with busy.
---
The traveller left the Inn very late in the afternoon. Otonia with him, very relaxed and very comfortable with her new friend. They took the west road out of town, not a care in the world, Charis clearly overhearing the chat between them and occasional laughter. Charis became confused, how could this be? She warned Otonia, told her about the stranger! The stranger who murdered her best friend and her trusted companion in cold blood, how could she befriend such an inhuman creature! It must be his magic, like Halius, total trust, no escape. Charis shuddered, she would be walking towards that same fate now, if she followed Otonia into the Inn.
Charis realised it wasn’t within Otonia’s control, it still didn’t make it any easier to accept though and for a fleeting moment, she reconsidered the elder’s advice. Her father expected more of her, demanded more of her every day and although he wasn’t here, she still heard his voice guiding her when she entertained a poor choice. She needed to make up for not helping before. She needed to wash away some of the guilt she felt and saving a friend or at least trying was certainly better than letting Otonia be murdered even if such loyalty could cost her own life.
She would save her friend from her thrall and defeat the evil, which held her! She will never lose another friend while she can act.
Charis felt, more than knew the traveller showed himself to her. Leading her friend away in daylight, in the open, pure motivation, the bait for his trap and slightly worrying for Charis as it displayed his confidence and knowledge. What has Otonia told him? This was a game of his making, well-practised, which he enjoyed playing for a very long time and if the elder was correct, always won.
When the pair left the west road, their trail child’s play to follow. Charis realised he ensured anyone following wouldn’t fail and she, therefore, assumed his path would end in a prepared trap. How could she turn his confidence against him? She stopped for a moment. If she continued, she would be following his timetable and his plan. If Charis turned around now and returned to the village proper, would Otonia still be safe, would he kill her, or would he wonder why the bait wasn’t taken and be forced to improvise?
Charis ran back to the cottage, time to recruit another and avoid following him into whatever he planned according to his timetable.
“I know where they left the road, they will return when his patience is at its end. So, I will need to sleep and while I sleep, I need someone to keep a lookout. Can it be you?” Charis pleaded.
“Of course, my dear and I know a few spells that will assist, if I can borrow some of your magic? Plus, I will pack along some other brews and ointments as well.”
Her beaming warm smile invigorated Charis. A willing helper and most unexpected given her frailty. Charis would never question the elder’s bravery or grit though. No one so wrinkled could survive so many years without fighting death off every day and night.
“Of course, anything that will help is welcome. The way he openly walked away with her and the trail he left, his confidence, I cannot follow his plan like everyone else he has lured and trapped.”
“Well, we will need to purchase some arrows first I suspect,” the elder said, after peaking at Charis’ empty quiver.
Charis checked her quiver and remembered her last arrow remained on the selection table at the Lord's Keep, left behind when her father rushed her away. She nodded to the elder and with unseemly haste made for the cottage door, her face slightly flushed. The brave girl was equally embarrassed. Warm laughter from the elder chased her out of the cottage.
They followed the trail easily in the fading light, partly due to Charis’ skill, the balance due to his efforts to leave an obvious trail, after all, he wanted Charis to follow him. As they carefully followed, the elder used Charis’ magic to set some alerts. Finally, at sunset, they found a suitable tree along the path he lured them along. Charis and the elder climbed high into the branches, settling in as comfortably as possible for the night and possibly longer if needed.
“Pass me your arrows one at a time,” the elder asked. Charis didn’t question the request, so one at a time she exchanged the arrows with the elder.
“Don’t touch the arrowheads, I applied a special ointment and as they sit in your quiver the ointment will be partially absorbed even though the tips are fire-hardened, what isn’t absorbed will be applied directly to any wound when the skin is pierced.”
When done with the arrows Charis roped herself in place so she could uncomfortably sleep as best she could and not fall out of the tree, while the elder perched and remained alert next to her. Plainly a gamble to follow him, as they didn’t know the limit of his patience because he could turn back at any time, immediately for all they knew, luckily, he didn’t. His confidence though would dismiss any immediate impatience and that is what Charis gambled her and the elder’s lives upon.
“I really appreciate your trust in me and letting me live at least one day as a proper magic-user,” whispered the elder. “I hope you don’t mind as I stole some magic to gift my limbs some extra life, to enable my climb into this tree.”
There was a sheepish naughty person confessional tone in the elder’s voice and Charis simply smiled and tried to find some sleep. What did it matter to Charis, the magic inside her couldn’t be used by her, although she did wonder how much she held?
+++
The elder nudged her awake at the false dawn.
“He is approaching, and he is alone,” the elder whispered.
“Will he pass near us?”
“No, I don’t think so, he is returning to the village by a slightly different path as he has tripped another of my magic, missing some in between.”
“This is my chance to find Otonia.”
Charis released her rope and started her climb down the tree.
“Be careful, your first instinct will be to release Otonia when you find her, stop, consider, and think before you approach her, you must ensure whatever you do you kill him as the most urgent need. Don’t worry about Otonia’s discomfort, if she is alive, she will be grateful at the end, and if she is dead does it really matter?”
Charis glared up at the elder in shock, her coldness, the calculated way should act. What about Otonia?
Seeing Charis’s look, the elder followed up with additional truths. “You know life can be cruel, death is final, and he has killed many. Your attachment to Otonia cannot alter your course as he has no distractions, he is on a clear path, and nothing stops him. He is a killer, and he is used to killing, he does this as easy as you eat a meal.”
Charis swallowed upon hearing the elder’s raw explanation of what she faced. The elder’s words clarified Charis’ mission, barely sixteen years old fighting for the life of a friend against an enemy with many years of experience in delivering death, let alone the years of living and the skills anyone in his business would accumulate. Charis involuntarily shivered, she hoped the elder didn’t see her, as she consciously needed to hold her water. She hardened her resolve then, for Halius and to save Otonia she must be better than she thought, no weakness, be brave! Her hands shook and she clenched them to be still.
The trail was initially easy to follow as it approached the choke point, which used the combination of a fallen tree and several large boulders. Charis paused and with trepidation cautiously followed through. With the sun and light behind her, she easily found the trip rope and her eyes followed it to the sprung back tree limb with the nasty stake attached to it. In a setting sun, the trap would be in shade and near impossible to find, and anyone following could possibly be blinded by sunlight. She shuddered with the thought of near death.
Beyond the trap, his trail became difficult to find and while Charis didn’t lose it, she worried about the time consumed tracking it along with her efforts to not leave a trail of her own. She heard Otonia before she found her, sobbing. Charis left the trail she followed by tracking and circled about, finding a tree with some height to see if she could spot Otonia without having to step into a very clever killer’s camp. The elder liked trees for hiding, people rarely looked up when they were walking, more so if looking down for tracks! The elder also suggested the rubbing of leaves on the smellier parts of her body to try and masked her human smell.
Charis started scanning his camp and fortunately after a mild breeze moved some foliage, she sighted Otonia. Poor Otonia, a rope around her throat and her hands pulled behind her back around the tree. Charis held her position remembering the elder’s words. Then she heard him mumble below her position as he stormed back to his camp.
“Where is the she-bitch, the snot-nosed little kid, doesn’t she want to rescue her friend? Has she left I wonder? It is time to ask her friend again and maybe with some violent encouragement.”
Charis waited perfectly still, his hat and body directly below her for an instant and if she jumped on him, he would toss her aside, her light bodyweight no match for his strength and weight. She needed to wait and endure any suffering he might levy on Otonia.
She felt an urge to lean forward, discovering her until then an unknown friendship for him, and she should just jump down and greet him. Why should she hide in this tree from her friend?