Spell
of Entrapment – Smashwords edition
Copyright
© 2012 by Jeffrey Beesler
Published
by Jeffrey Beesler at Smashwords
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This
book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person, living or
dead, is purely coincidental.
Cover
design by Sean Sweeney
For my grandmother, Eva L. Smith, who first told me I should sit down and write; and for my wife, Jenny, who puts up with my never-dying writing obsession.
SPELL OF ENTRAPMENT
CHAPTER 1
ACCUSED
(Day 1, Year of the Toad)
Embekah Mare twisted her ankle on an exposed tree root that snagged her, causing her to stumble. As she fell toward some thorny bushes, the branches scraped her face raw. Ignoring the coppery fluid oozing from her lips, Embekah fought back against the impulse to howl and lend her voice to rage. Even out here in the forest, away from the closest village, others might still hear her.
In the distance, royal steeds announced their presence with blaring neighs, their hooves clacking against a neighboring trail Embekah had sought to avoid. Embekah growled at herself. Why’d she gone to town, anyhow? That bounty on her head should’ve killed her need for a marketplace run.
Embekah swept herself off the ground and motioned past more shrubbery, oak branches snagging her cloak. As she tugged on her arm a patch of fabric split off, stuck on a tree limb resembling a bird’s talon. She gained precious little momentum from staggering about. Not a good day for traveling, she thought, nibbling angrily on her lip, the tang of blood still fresh on her.
She gazed up in the sky, realizing what duplicitous force had drawn her out. Nestled between two sickly-looking pair of clouds, the sun showered Embekah in its light, almost as though mocking her with its radiance.
Something swooshed past her, missing her left ear by an inch or two. A second later, she caught the sound of a twang. Embekah glanced up to see an arrow whose tip had found purchase in a nearby tree. A quick glimpse over her shoulder revealed an archer reloading his crossbow.
Embekah wriggled her fingers, casting a plume of smoke from beneath her nails. She might have tried a spell stronger than a smokescreen, but this was all she could muster with her foot wailing in agony. A breeze carried the smoke over toward the archer. A second shot came, grazing Embekah’s shoulder. Saliva bubbling between her teeth, she choked back a cry as she fumbled deeper into the woods.
Shouts of protest erupted from the archer. Embekah banished all worry from her mind for so long as the smoke held.
“I’ve found her!” The archer’s words rang out from somewhere close.
So much for not worrying, Embekah thought. As soon as she’d heard him, she began chanting. Her tongue slithered through the syllables with such haste she wound up omitting key words in the hex. An instant later, rime covered her right arm and leg. She snapped the fingers of her unfrozen hand, invoking the spell of dispel, shattering the ice into shards.
“Where’s all this smoke coming from?” demanded another man still hidden by virtue of the smokescreen, his voice commanding more authority than the archer’s.
Embekah dove into the next shrub, missing the thump of something that slipped off from her cloak, hoping the chaos brought on by the soldiers might somehow drown out whatever noise she made. Couldn’t these soldiers just leave her alone? Branches and leaves prodded her face precisely where she’d already been sliced open, adding more difficulty to the labor of staying quiet until the danger passed.
A third man roared, “Hold your positions!”
Embekah trained her ears to detect the first hint of exhaustion in her pursuers. Their voices still contained high amounts of energy, the song of excitement in their tones carrying clearly through the chaos, the melody of men who so easily sold out to the seduction of silver and gold. It’d serve them right if they returned to Castle Leywa looking like fools without her in tow. In the kingdom of Trava, capture of an enemy was cherished almost more than ruby-pierced bracelets or diamond-studded tiaras.
Well, they wouldn’t take her without a fight, if it came down to that.
She inhaled lightly when the soldiers approached. The lack of barking suggested that these warriors hadn’t thought to bring along the queen’s finest hunting dogs. For that, she let a smile quiver on her lips.
Perhaps she might just yet get away.
The guards about a quarter mile shy of her, Embekah checked herself for the exotic mushrooms she’d paid for in gold back in Trava Town. Had she not secured the pouch tightly to her form? Her blood chilled with the discovery that she’d lost what she’d journeyed to the market for in the first place.
Somewhere among the trees, bushes and greedy knights, the key to her salvation lay in wait.
“There’s something amiss here,” said the one who had ordered a halt to the hunt.
Embekah’s smoke cloud dissipated, revealing the archer and two knights. The latter waved their blades around, cutting back the forest overgrowth hindering their progress. Embekah crouched down further, snapping a few twigs amidst more neighs from the horses. The trio came within a matter of feet of their target.
“What do you mean?” The archer blinked at the knight closest to Embekah.
“There was smoke, but no flames. What does that tell you?”
“You don’t mean…”
“Exactly.” The knight swung his sword at another bush, three away from Embekah. “Our quarry is a sorceress. Bah! I spit on magic. Magic dilutes the purity of nature.”
Embekah swallowed down a fiery bubble of air. How dare those men mock her craft? She bit her lip. Hating these men did nothing except distract her. If she let down her guard, it might threaten her escape.
The archer strode towards the knight furthest from Embekah, kicking her pouch high into the air.
“What’s this?” The warrior caught the sack the archer had nonchalantly punted in his direction.
Embekah held a hand to her mouth, stopping herself from gasping. The knight now had her mushrooms. It wouldn’t take them longer than two minutes to find her. Did she dare run with them so close? The archer had barely missed her minutes ago. In closer proximity he might hit his mark.
“These are mushrooms,” noted the knight with the pouch. “Probably belong to the sorceress.” Lifting the faceplate of his helmet, he took in a whiff of the fungi. With a groan, he rubbed his eyes, the stench’s sting drawing moisture from them. “Yes, truly revolting.”
Embekah pursed her lips. With such short-sighted men guarding the kingdom, was it any wonder why she practiced her craft out in the middle of nowhere?
“If I’d only gotten her sooner, we might already be on our way back home,” the archer lamented, dangling his crossbow by his side.
The unmasked knight reached the archer, squeezing the latter man’s shoulder. “You mustn’t blame yourself, Eveck.”
“Easy for you to say, Patrew,” Eveck replied, veering away from his ally. “You didn’t let the sorceress’s magic blind you.”
Patrew shoved the plate away from his face, revealing a man with a dark complexion, smoke-black hair, and stubble that made Embekah’s heart skip a beat. “The woman uses cheap trickery to get herself out of tight spots. Don’t blame yourself for the acts of supernatural harlots.”
Harlot? Embekah shook off the desire to go smack Patrew across the back of his head. Though he deserved to pay for his words, she wouldn’t let him bait her.
“Should we quit, then?” Eveck asked Patrew, the slightest hint of defeat lingering in the archer’s tone.
“It’s highly unlikely we’ll find her out here. We don’t even know that those mushrooms belong to her,” Patrew remarked.
Embekah’s gaze fell from Patrew back to the archer. She could almost smell the fear on the second man. A true enemy of the kingdom would’ve exploited this weakness.
Not Embekah, however. Gutting every guardsman to cross her path would only guarantee that she’d rot in a dungeon, awaiting a swift kiss of death by way of the guillotine, instead of being left alone to quietly study her craft.
She watched all three men withdraw. Was this a ploy to draw her out? If so, they failed. To catch her, they’d need shiftier tactics.
Minutes later, their voices grew soft in the distance. Embekah waited for a time, until she felt that she was now safe. After one last glance in the direction the men had gone, she turned to run.
A blade tip glimmered in the sunlight, mere inches away from her face. She wasn’t going anywhere.
CHAPTER 2
ARREST ATTEMPT
Embekah held down a gasp, the only means she had of quelling her panic. The knight called Patrew stood before her, sword hanging in the air. Any second now, he would decapitate her. Afterwards, her head might become the gem of his trophy case.
“I believed you were gone,” she said, adding a wink she hoped would cater to his ego. Perhaps this soldier lusted for more than just riches.
“A clever ruse, I’m afraid,” Patrew chuckled, “to lure you out.”
If she could just strike the smirk clear off his face! With a sword between them, she saw no way to act upon her whim.
“Must you always persecute women who live quiet lives?”
The knight snorted. “You are about as much a woman as I am a peasant.”
Embekah’s face stung with heat. Whether the sun or Patrew’s tactless remark carried the greater impact, she couldn’t decide. Being at his mercy, Embekah scoured her mind for a way out of this fix.
“I could kill you with a snap of my fingers.” She clenched her jaw. “Yes, a death spell might do nicely.”
At that, Patrew stopped grinning. “This is so typical of your sort, Blasphemer. Always using magic to cheat fate is utterly pathetic of you.”
Embekah sighed. “Sorcery has nothing to do with selfish needs.”
“You see, it’s arrogance like that which makes me loathe you sorcerers all the more.” Patrew took a step toward her. “Surrender now. You can no longer escape your destiny.”
Embekah couldn’t fight back her grin. How glorious would it be for her to send this mongrel whimpering and limping back to the castle? Maybe then the rest of the army would leave her be.
Concentrating her gaze down at his sword, she cast a mental command. A second later, Patrew’s blade melted into liquid metal, spilling right onto his gloved hands.
“Bah!” Patrew flung the fluid off of him, spraying a neighboring shrub in gooey silver. “You do not fight with principle, harlot. I shall do the world a favor by ridding it of you.”
“Promises, promises,” Embekah said, dismissing him with a palm before spinning away. She’d gotten only a few feet away when her ears picked up on the swishing of grass. Suddenly from behind, Patrew clasped her arm, preventing any escape. The amount of pressure he applied to her limb made her wince. Slowly she gazed at the brute, her mind racing for just the right spell that would force him to unhand her.
“Come with me,” Patrew snapped.
“And if I refuse?”
“The others are still in the area. You cannot avoid them all.”
Embekah cackled at him. “You’re a dullard.”
“Is that so?” The knight clutched her throat with his free hand, squeezing all the air out of her windpipe. “If I were you, I would keep that tongue of yours in cheek.”
Embekah let all the saliva in her mouth accumulate, and then spat at him, striking him between the eyes. Releasing his hold on her throat, Patrew wiped his face clean of spittle. She quickly absorbed a breath of fresh air to satisfy her burning lungs. Then, while his focus was still diverted, she kicked him in the shin with the tip of her leather boot, causing him to release her limb.
“Note how resourceful I am without my magic,” Embekah said, hurling her fist into his chin, cracking some bones in his jaw. Thank goodness he hadn’t had the sense to slide his faceplate back on.
“Do you truly believe you’ve won here?” Patrew growled.
Embekah distanced herself several meters from him before answering. “I still have my freedom, don’t I?”
Letting the knight’s vulgar language flood the air, she dashed off for safe haven. Her lips again defied gravity with a victorious, upward curl.
######
Embekah ceased running about an hour or so after Patrew’s botched attempt at arrest. She sat upon a boulder to offer her feet some rest. Sliding a boot off, she glanced down at her travel-weary toes. Tiny dabs of crimson dotted the soil in front of her. She lifted her foot, finding calluses on her soles, cracked and bleeding.
Struggling to maintain her balance on the boulder, Embekah wriggled a finger at her injury. An amber glow from her fingertip encouraged her broken flesh to mend itself. Gradually, the cracks healed. Embekah stood up again, her body weight no longer straining her feet.
What a waste of her morning! A trip to the marketplace shouldn’t have been fraught with difficulty, especially for mushrooms. Mushrooms, she told herself, which grew in another part of the kingdom, a place too far away for her to safely roam without running into that blasted army again.
But how else would she finish her latest spell now? She couldn’t go back to the marketplace. Not unless she found more gold, as well as a safe method of reaching the town square.
A possible solution came to her. Maybe her quest needn’t necessarily take her back to the marketplace, or off to an unfamiliar corner of the woods. Despite the passage of time, there were still people out there who owed her favors. Had the time come for her to collect?
Embekah’s mind blared with alarm. There had been reasons why such individuals had grown indebted to her. Could she really trust such foolish souls who’d never make good on their obligations?
Not far away a subtle chorus of crickets rose in the air, alongside an owl hooting while scouring the fields for mice in search of scraps. Dusk! How had she lost track of time? She gnashed her teeth. It was all the fault of the Royal Army. If those men hadn’t chased her, she never would have dropped her mushrooms. She could be at home presently, applying her ingredients to a spell which would then prolong her freedom.
Going home seemed the only viable option. At least there she could confide in her one true friend, her toad. By now Halscrad had probably gone through the last of the wingless fly paste she had made for him before her departure. At the very least it had been a nice enough day to leave the window open. This would’ve let some wayward bugs flutter into her hovel, straight to their doom.
Embekah broke out in a brisk pace as stars gradually filled the sky. Knees threatening to buckle, she rushed against the achy, creaky protest of her bones. At times she leaned against a tree just to prop herself up.
Hours passed. Judging by the rising moon, she’d gone half the night without reaching her abode. Her eyelids inched closer together, her body draining of strength. She entertained the notion of collapsing out there in the woods. The way the grass crunched beneath her feet suggested a distinct lack of moisture. She could use this very spot as a temporary bed, at least until her energy was renewed.
The sudden rustling of some nearby shrubbery jolted her back into apprehension. She glanced over her shoulder, seeking out possible signs of an enemy’s presence. Once assured no one was stalking her, she raced the rest of the way home.
In the soft moonlight she could just make out the silhouette of her domicile. She had assumed ownership after having discovered it long abandoned, full of erosion. In its prime her home had likely served a local, reputable planter.
But whoever lived here last had left long ago, leaving no furniture, farm tools, or any livestock behind. The drab outer walls in addition to the cobwebs within had endeared this place to Embekah. Certainly no one would ever suspect a neglected farmhouse of being a sorceress’s habitat.
Inside, she sank down in a chair by the entryway, basking in the knowledge that she belonged here. She couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.
“What a day,” she moaned, hoping Halscrad heard her. “You wouldn’t believe what happened to me. There I was, minding my own business, when out of nowhere soldiers gave me chase. I ask you. Can’t a woman shop in peace anymore?”
Exhausted by the day’s excitement, along with finding no hint of Halscrad, Embekah dragged her feet toward her bedchamber. She almost bowed under the power of sleepiness but reached her cot safely.
Only when Embekah had unraveled the covers of her neatly-made bed, only when her eyelids drooped almost entirely shut, did her cheek brush against a slimy lump. Filling the air with a squeal, she threw her covers off. Heart racing, she zoomed to the door before catching her senses again.
Blasted toad!
######
(Day 2, Year of the Toad)
The next morning a croak stirred Embekah from a hard night’s snooze, along with the foul tang of toad breath. Her body resisted every effort her mind put forth to arising. Aches danced their way up and down her body. She might as well have been pinned to the floor.
Also, the awful aroma permeating the room didn’t seem limited to rotten amphibian breath. Stink rose from every part of her body, making her heave. What she wouldn’t give to freshen herself up with a snap of her fingers.
Unfortunately, mushrooms again remained a key ingredient for such an enchantment. Realizing how dependent most of her spells were on the toadstools, she held back on casting any spells.
She stumbled out of her chamber, heading for the washroom. Behind her she heard an insect whose buzzing met an abrupt halt. Halscrad was certainly making himself a morning time menace to the creepy-crawlies in her hovel. Not that Embekah disapproved of this behavior.
After her shower, Embekah ambled along to the pantry. There she filled a kettle with water and threw it on the stove. It wouldn’t take her tea too long to brew. Even if it did, personal experience had taught Embekah to appreciate the fine art of savor. Something about sorcery-made tea almost compromised her affinity for the brew more than once. Maybe it was the sickly brown hue, or perhaps it had to do with the odd, tinny tang the concoction usually left in her mouth.
After she downed a cupful of the liquid, Embekah glanced down at her undergarments. Like it or not, the time had come to get dressed. As she had no intent of heading out of the house two days in a row, casual fabrics from her bedroom armoire would suffice.
From it she retrieved an outfit given to her by an elfin tailor, though forest green clashed with her personal tastes. Fortunately, changing the coloring of her at-home garb required no toadstools whatsoever. With a wave of her hand, Embekah changed the fabric’s hue to icy blue before donning the wrap.
A decent pair of boots or slippers wouldn’t hurt her either. She snapped her fingers. Moments later her feet nestled into slippers she had summoned from underneath her cot.
“That’s better.” Embekah wriggled her toes. Hopefully she wouldn’t have to run again for a while.
Embekah’s stomach rumbled soon after she changed garments. She hadn’t given her own nutrition much consideration in the past day, not with a shopping venture gone awry. If she desired more mushrooms, she’d have to keep up her strength.
Upon returning to the kitchen, she sorted through her supplies, depositing all the makings of hot cereal into a bowl. She allowed her food to sit for a short while, long enough to attract a fly or two. She smirked as Halscrad kept going after the bugs attacking her meal.
There’s nothing like having breakfast with your pet to start your day off right, Embekah thought.
But even with a full belly and her sores healing, Embekah still found no relief. How could she have let those men get her mushrooms? Despite the relatively docile nature of her plans for the fungi, the knights probably wouldn’t understand. They would stop at nothing until they caught her.
Embekah growled. The knights had nearly ensnared her mere miles from her home. It certainly wouldn’t take her would-be captors long to trace her steps all the way here. She needed to mount a proper defense in the event they came charging through her door.
She fetched her spell book, flipped it open, and turned to a bookmarked page. The incantation she sought was for an invisible barrier. She scanned the list of ingredients, hoping for an alternative to mushrooms. No entries found.
With a snarl she tossed the book into a pile of pages sitting on an end table. The tome slid over the edge, taking more than a handful of sheets with it. Embekah screamed, her blood boiling from all her recent misfortunes.
Her frustrations released, she retrieved the pages off the floor. One of the sheets she picked up advertised the Z’lymor Inn in the heart of Trava. With a heavy sigh, she studied the parchment.
“Hmm.” Maybe a journey to the inn might not be out of the question. She couldn’t very well return to the marketplace for mushrooms, not even for toadstools indigenous to only one particular corner of the kingdom outside the market. It’d also be a fool’s expedition to wander through a wilderness she knew little about.
Meanwhile, a tighter patrol of the bazaar would give the soldiers a better opportunity to apprehend her, especially if they ever figured out why she’d gone to town in the first place.
But who knew what she might overhear at the Z’lymor Inn? Perhaps the marketplace was not the only source of exotic mushrooms. Maybe there were merchants out there who wanted to do business in Trava Town, yet for whatever reasons were forbidden. The thought of a mushroom underground trade operation sounded a bit silly to Embekah. With the kingdom eager to cash in that bounty on her, however, she saw few better choices for her present situation.
She did reconsider going to the inn as it was located in Trava Town’s seedy underbelly. The kingdom’s most notorious criminals wound up being among the establishment’s repeat customers. She could count on her hands the number of years she had spent frequenting Z’lymor with thieves, liars, cheats, extortionists, and yes even the occasional murderer. Twenty years ago, she had actually admired that crowd, even aspired to be more like those people.
She chafed her arms. What a fool she’d been. Because she’d made such awful choices in friends, the kingdom condemned her for the remainder of her days. Like she was the only one who had ever made a mistake.
“Fine,” she said, studying the page. “I’ll visit the inn. Should luck embrace me, I might just find a person willing to part with some toadstools.”
CHAPTER 3
TARBRA RELSH
(Day 4, Year of the Toad)
Embekah gave herself two full days to recover from her knightly encounter, occasionally glancing out any one of the southernmost windows of her hovel for potential peril. She slept until the obnoxious twitter of birds enjoying an early spring dawn tore her from her slumber. A crack in the wall just below the window explained why the chirping was so pronounced.
If only Embekah had made time for simple repairs to her home! Yet this was a demon she couldn’t grapple with at present. She had mushrooms to procure.
Joints aching and muscles still on fire from her recent foray through the woods, Embekah hobbled over to a chair. She sat down, giving her front door a long stare. Was she crazy enough to go through with this? For all she knew, the knights might not have even connected her to the mushrooms. Was it so impossible to believe that maybe the knights had suspected someone else of possessing the toadstools?
She spied Halscrad crouched in the corner, facing her almost expectantly. “I’m not exactly looking forward to going out today, Halscrad. If those knights catch me, well, I guess you’ll realize this soon enough, huh?” She sighed, unwilling to believe that this might be the last time she would ever see her precious toad.
Halscrad blinked at her, responding with a deep croak that sounded like it was meant to be comforting.
Truthfully, she appreciated having Halscrad near. At any time she let him outside, he had the opportunity to ditch her, to doom her to further solitude. Yet he never strayed far from the house. Usually he’d hop right through an open window not even an hour after Embekah let him go outside. He was likely to be Embekah’s best friend for whatever time she had left to live.
Leaning back in her seat, she snapped her fingers. Another charge of healing energy coursed throughout her form. From where she sat she could see a sliver of sunlight creeping above the eastern horizon. If she wanted, she could still run that one particular errand. Externally, her body seemed to heal in no time at all. Only fear could hold her back if she let it.
As she waited for her magic to work its full effect, she closed her eyes. Thoughts of the coming task swirled about in her psyche. She needed those mushrooms. There was no other way around it. She had to get them, or else she’d forfeit her life.
A spike in energy later, Embekah stood again, drawing her cloak to her with but a thought. Her shroud fluttered through the air as though mimicking a bird. Inspired at last, she plucked it from the space above her head and slipped her arms into the sleeves.
She decided that before she pressed on with her journey, she needed a better strategy than just charging toward the Z’lymor Inn. A brief semblance of preparation would suffice, even if Trava Town lay miles away from her. At the very least, she needed a second plan in case the first failed.
She searched her cloak for anything she might have inadvertently put away in a pocket, like a blade, or a vial containing a special concoction. Disappointment began to sink in until she ran her hand across a scroll. She yanked the paper out, realizing it was nothing but the list of supplies she had been gathering last time.
Minutes later, she burst through under the threshold of her front door, her latest journey into the woods begun. Regardless of what was to come, she banished the possibility of capture from her mind. Until it happened, she refused to let it hold her back.
She marched up the hill away from her house without pause. Trava Town had not seen the last of her. Now was her time to prove it.
######
Despite her determination, Embekah avoided all trails and main thoroughfares early on her quest, sticking only to unconventional routes. She welcomed the sight of any river few others would dare explore. Jagged rocks in the middle of the tributary jutted above the water’s surface, appearing like pointy teeth cutting into someone’s tongue. An unwise course for most, she thought.
There was a little known dirt path Embekah remembered from her early adult years. It stayed near the Tojafah River for much of the way. She recalled it with near-perfect clarity because she’d shared her first kiss with a rugged young lad near where the path and the river parted ways. She quietly laughed at herself. Still entertaining frivolous flights of female fancy at her age! If she had any, what would her friends think?
Her curiosity getting the better of her, she glanced about for a particular pine, one with silvery needles instead of green, a byproduct of one of her earliest spells. Hadn’t she stashed something there some time ago and never returned for it?
Doubtful, she told herself as her eyes gazed upon row after row of trees. Even if she had left anything behind in or around that tree, by now a wayward warrior or displaced peasant would have taken it. Or a woodsman wielding an ax likely had chopped the tree down to make kindling for a wintertime fire, taking her trinket with the log into the blazing abyss.
A glint of sunlight blinded Embekah. She held a hand just above her eyes, beckoning her sight to return. As it did, she noticed a shade of metal providing a sharp contrast against all the luscious green. Was it one of those knights? After a moment, Embekah smiled. The silver didn’t belong to steeled armor.
Heading toward her pine, she broke into a steady gait. With the land caught in a downward incline, running wasn’t an option for her. After all, she might stumble again and do more damage than just spraining her ankle. Although still a few years shy of the half-century mark, she couldn’t afford a broken bone or two to hamper her progress. The toadstools remained top priority.
Making it to the silver pine, Embekah at once grazed her palm upon the tree’s trunk. Magic may have concealed a secret hole from her eyes, but could it deny touch as well?
She made a half-circle around. Brushing aside some of the more obtrusive branches oozing with syrup, her fingers wound up coated in needles. The chasm she sought in the pine presented itself visibly to her on the other side of the tree.
Careful to check whether a squirrel nested there, Embekah reached toward the gap. Her nails clinked against a glasslike material. A moment later, she reached in all the way, wrapped her fingers around what felt like a container, and withdrew it at once.
A golden vial she didn’t immediately recognize served as the prize for her present effort. She studied the symbols marked just below the rim, but couldn’t decipher them. A low grumble rose out of her throat. Had she gotten her hopes up for nothing?
She went to turn away, only to redirect her attention to the base of her foot. A piece of paper lay trapped partway beneath a rock, a steady breeze whipping the sheet of neglected stationary as far up as the rock would allow. Intrigue nipping at her heart, she bent over to retrieve the note, finding a near unintelligible message scribbled on its front.
“‘Love gone forever, hearts not aflutter, grief not shuttered. A drink from this, you shan’t be missed, without your resist.’”
Embekah let the words weigh heavily on her mind for a few moments. What could possibly be in the vial? A potion? Or maybe instead an insect with a poisonous bite so potent its victim would perish before suffering any pain at all?
Deeming a test necessary before she took this tonic with her, Embekah uncorked the vial, peering inside. An odd fragrance rose from the depths of the bottle, a cross between the scent of holly berries and that of nutmeg. She leaned in closer to a wild orchid swaying in the wind, sampling a whiff from its buds. A moment later, she unleashed a drop of ivory white upon the flower.
At first this did nothing. Then the orchid seemed to lose its physical stability, withering before disappearing in whole. Embekah glanced at the vial, making sure not to breathe in any more of the fumes in case doing so would cause her harm. She then extended her free hand to where the orchid had been, her skin scuffing against the blossoms that had otherwise vanished, the aroma of the orchid still evident.
An invisibility potion, she realized. But why would anyone leave such a treasure out in the middle of nowhere? Embekah wanted to both thank and smack the fool who had given up this obviously valuable material. In all of her sorcery days, she hadn’t conjured up anything so sweet before. A sliver of mage envy briefly snagged her soul.
Sensing that it was probably in her best interest to use at least a few drops, she braced for using the potion on herself.
At the last second, however, doubt clouded her mind. What exactly did the note’s warning entail? She wouldn’t be missed unless she resisted? Did that mean she could control her visibility at will so long as trace elements of the liquid remained on her?
There was only one way to find out. She dabbed herself with the invisibility blend and waited, watching while she faded from sight.
So far so good—she hadn’t gotten sick yet. The time came to advance onward to Trava Town. She turned to leave, only to realize that the bottle itself remained visible, despite the nature of its contents. Whoever had created the potion must have also enchanted the vial as well. Without an additional spell the concoction would have made the container vanish also. Then no one would ever have found it.
Maybe she shouldn’t take the mixture. But then again, she’d found it by all rights. It wasn’t as though anyone else had a claim to it. She pocketed the potion before carrying on.
######
The forest noises dwindled by mid-afternoon, replaced by the clatter of horse hooves and buggy wheels on cobblestone. Stone shacks roofed with moldy-looking wood and straw lined up in rows at the base of a hill. A trail wound toward the hill’s summit where the four towers of Leywa Castle stood, nestled conveniently inside impenetrable charcoal-hued walls.
The fortress did not impress Embekah as she gravitated towards the inn. Motioning past a crowd, Embekah listened intently to the murmurs, hoping to hear about a fresh crop of mushrooms. Nothing so far!
In spite of her invisibility, Embekah exercised great caution in where she stepped. With the slightest miscalculation she’d bump into someone. Their eyes might not catch her, but four other senses could still ruin her mission. Hopefully her soap would mask her body odor a while longer.
Fortunately for Embekah, people were too caught up in their own personal lives to pay any heed to subtle foul smells.
She wandered from the main road to a side street, glancing over her shoulder every so often. Two guards toured the area, though they conducted no random searches of people. In truth, they seemed more fascinated with the window display cases of village shops. Embekah passed them without incident, silently praising the invisibility potion and her unknowing benefactor.
Finally she approached Z’lymor Inn. An emblem hanging above the doorway depicted a knight sipping a mug of brew while crushing the neck of a slain dragon underneath his boot. What the sign depicted seemed preposterous to Embekah. Unfortunately, too often certain people indulged in tall tales.
Like those who refused to let her live down her past, for instance, she thought.
Embekah worked her way past the might-is-right symbol and up the stone steps to the front door. Realizing that the image of the door opening on its own might startle one or more of the inn’s patrons, Embekah watched for an approaching customer.
She didn’t have to wait long. An elderly couple emerged from the inn, attired in pauper garb, carrying a faint, sickly color on their faces. The husband reeked of cheap ale. The wife, meanwhile, cursed under her breath something about the forced reversal of fortunes. Embekah slipped past them before the door shut on her.
Embekah stood by the entrance for a moment or two, taking note of anyone whose gaze drifted over in her direction. Satisfied that everyone was deeply involved in their meals, drinks, and idle conversations, she considered the note’s cryptic warning again. She closed her eyes, thinking only of shedding her invisibility. A quick glimpse downward revealed her body shifting back to original form.
Prior to anyone growing any wiser, Embekah spotted a booth with terrible illumination. Perfect. She at once helped herself to that corner seat against no immediate objection.
Unfortunately, a barmaid approached her table almost the very moment she planted her rear on the bench below.
“Hello,” said the woman, heavy bags under her eyes and a shortness of breath in her words. “May I get you a drink?”
“Water, thanks.” Embekah gripped her hood, keeping it close to her face so that the barmaid couldn’t identify her.
“Your voice sounds so lovely,” the barmaid said. “I cannot help but wonder why you would hide your beauty.”
The muscles in Embekah’s back tightened up, yet she fought off the compulsion to rearrange her posture. Too much movement would only call more attention her way. As it was she had already endangered herself enough.
“I have scars the looks of which might send you in a mad panic toward your death,” Embekah lied. “What would it say for your mistress’s business if her employee passed away from the shock of gazing upon me, all while toiling about the tables, feeding and saturating her most loyal patrons? I cannot imagine how such an event would usher in any prosperity for the inn.”
Embekah cringed slightly at the way she had carried on, but this did produce the desired effect she sought. The server sighed, ambling off to retrieve a glass of water.
Hopefully no one else would ask questions.
#####
While waiting for her beverage, Embekah listened to the many conversations buzzing about the room. Mostly, the banter pertained only to weather and jousting. Quite frankly, her eyes found the rotted wood paneling to her right more striking.
Did no one harvest mushrooms in this age?
“You’re awfully bold stepping out of your house these days.”
Embekah looked away from a pair of scalawags pelting a young-looking couple with bits of food, finding a familiar, sisterly face beaming at her.
“Tarbra Relsh!” Embekah fought the impulsive to leap up and tackle the one friend, aside from Halscrad, she still had. Instead, she gave Tarbra a warm smile, offering the copper-haired woman to take a seat. For a moment, Embekah could do nothing but gawk at her friend. Tarbra somehow had maintained a slender figure after all these years, and there didn’t appear to be a single trace of a wrinkle creasing the woman’s thin, rosy cheeks. Embekah took special care in not letting her envy over Tarbra’s perfectly hemmed blue gown spiral out of control.
“Embekah Mare,” Tarbra announced with light bemusement. “Only you would dare risk an invisibility spell to sneak yourself into town when your name has never been cleared. Why bother returning when all of Trava is out for your blood?”
The disbelief in Tarbra’s tone prompted Embekah to cut right to the heart of the matter. “I’m awfully low on mushrooms these days. Do you know where I might get some?”
“Besides the West Sun Woods or the marketplace?”
“Knights have recently combed the forest for me.” Embekah glanced off to the side, casting a quick survey of the staff and patrons, before redirecting her focus back at Tarbra. “In my haste to escape from them, I dropped my pouch of toadstools, thereby implicating me in whatever evil-doing the kingdom wishes to accuse me of.
“Those men probably have the market under surveillance, thinking I might foolishly return there. I thought that as the owner of the Z’lymor Inn, you might help me out.”
Tarbra held out her hand to Embekah, wrapping it around Embekah’s fingers. “I’m sorry, Embekah. Most Travans have avoided mushrooms since earlier this week. Why, Zartohs the mushroom merchant was in here just last night, griping about how the royal witch hunt has made his sales plunge into bleak territory.”
“You spoke with a mushroom merchant?” Embekah squealed, and then tugged tighter at her hood. A cursory glance from a neighboring patron made her gasp. Then the man returned to his brew and she exhaled. Losing her head in the moment would only undermine everything she had worked toward thus far.
“I’m the innkeeper here. Talking with other people comes with the job. I’m sorry I didn’t stop Zartohs from leaving town, but how was I supposed to know that you were in dire need of his services?” The expression on Tarbra’s face suggested Embekah’s mission troubled the woman. “If you had just sent your toad ahead of you to warn me of your arrival, I could have prepared better.”
“I’m sorry.” Embekah grunted at her lack of foresight. “What else could I have said, though, that a knight or other kingdom loyalist wouldn’t have decoded?”
A jollier gleam returned to Tarbra’s eyes. “You’re right. But I appreciate your apology all the same. You know, it really has been too long since we’ve spoken to one another. I had almost suspected that you just didn’t care anymore.”
Embekah’s lip trembled slightly. She cleared her throat, reminding herself not to get choked up in the moment. Still, she couldn’t deny her heart’s joy in seeing her old friend again after all this time.
“I’m sorry,” she said, gripping Tarbra’s hand tight. “You know I’ve had to hide ever since those blasted knights set their sights on me.” She cast a glance beyond Tarbra for any sign of the Royal Army. “Just because I’d associated briefly with that thieves’ guild twenty years ago, it doesn’t mean it should be held against me forever.”
“They fight for justice, Embekah,” Tarbra spoke, gently retracting her hand. “They’ve watched me all these years, too. I suspect I’d have been cast to the dungeon myself if I didn’t provide the army a service of beef, ale, and bed.”
“Of which I’m sure they’re eternally grateful.” Embekah crossed her arms on the table’s surface. “Why slay a serving wench when you can go after one who refuses to cook or clean up after you, huh?”
The barmaid approached a second later with the glass of water. Wordlessly, she set it down on the table, making no effort at all to utter anything in Embekah’s direction. With a quick pivot of her body, the barmaid stormed off.
“Excuse me?” Tarbra called after the server.
The woman twisted about, groaning. “Is anything wrong?”
“You said nothing to our guest here,” Tarbra noted, gesturing toward Embekah. “Is that how we treat patrons now?”
The barmaid dropped her hands to her side, balling up her fists. “No, madam, it’s not.”
Embekah brushed the side of her hood, reassuring herself of its presence. Hopefully the barmaid wasn’t able to get a good, long look at Embekah’s face.
“Anything else I can do for you?” The barmaid grunted at Embekah.
Embekah shook her head. “No, but I thank you for the water.”
Without another word, the barmaid broke away in a huff, ignoring three tables full of dirty plates. She even dismissed a customer who pointed at his goblet like he’d gotten the wrong beverage.
“She’s really got to go,” Tarbra mumbled, massaging her temple.
“So fire her. Surely she’s not irreplaceable,” Embekah said. “I must say, Tarbra. When we ran together in our corrupt circles, I would never have pegged you as an ambassador for hospitality. In fact I still think of you as the wild child who let her ginger locks dangle far below her backside, to the disapproval of her parents.”
Tarbra smirked. “Yes. We Raven Rousers had a knack for imagination, wouldn’t you say?”
“What a season in our lives that was.” Embekah chuckled. She’d almost forgotten how she and Tarbra would hide amongst their group of seven or eight, pretending to cast magic only royal mages were allowed, or plotting to swipe the king’s riches. “Strange how life doesn’t always turn out the way one would have hoped, or dreamed.”
“Do you regret the path you’ve taken?”
Embekah struggled to maintain a locked gaze with Tarbra. The innkeeper’s question was hardly meant to be insulting, yet it only made this predicament seem all the more dire.
“It certainly wasn’t the path I would have taken if the Royal Army had left me well enough alone.”
Tarbra ignored the comment as the barmaid rushed past the both of them, carrying a pitcher and spilling more than just a few drops of water along the way. “Hey! Be careful there.”
Embekah held her head down, quietly snickering as the barmaid voiced her displeasure with the job, disrupting everyone’s meal.
“Despite hiring one worthless barmaid, I feel pretty good about the life I’ve chosen,” Tarbra said, gazing back at Embekah. “Based on what’s happened to you, it sounds like I got out of sorcery at just the right time.”
“Whereas I thought it would have been the best thing ever to run around with thieves, practicing spells. At least the magic has given me purpose in this otherwise dismal existence.”
Tarbra’s jaw became set. “Just before the knights raided our hideout, I tried to tell you to get out, but all I got for my effort were headaches and heartburn.”
“Why would you have tried to warn me, unless you actually knew something no one else did?” Embekah’s eyes bulged at the possibility that Tarbra had inside information and had chosen not to disclose it.
Mouth falling open, Tarbra choked back a startled response. “I had heard rumors that certain machinations with those knights were in the works, but I’d never confirmed this.”
“Yet you tried to warn me all the same.” Embekah took a quick breath to recompose herself. “Why didn’t you ever probe a bit deeper? The Raven Rousers were some of the craftiest thugs this side of Castle Leywa. They wouldn’t have fallen victim so easily to a raid, unless you purposely kept mum about it.”
Tarbra scrambled to stand, only to have Embekah clasp her by the arm. Fidgeting, the innkeeper said, “Em, it wasn’t quite like that.”
“Then by all means, tell me what it was like.”
At that moment, Embekah happened to catch a glimpse of silver glinting in her side vision. She tore her gaze away from Tarbra. The knight Patrew stood at the far end of the aisle, opposite where the women were conversing. Embekah descended back onto her bench just before he drew nearer.
“What’s wrong?” Tarbra frowned.
Embekah pointed a finger at Patrew. “That man almost caught me the other day after I’d gone to the market for my mushrooms.”
Understanding flickered in Tarbra’s eyes. “Want me to kick him out?”
Embekah suppressed a yes. “I’d rather not call any attention to myself, which will almost certainly happen if you throw a knight out of your inn.”
“Very well, then.”
Patrew stopped his advance, appearing to strike up a conversation with an old acquaintance three tables down. A new barmaid sashayed up to that group, holding her washcloth by her waist. She leaned slightly toward Patrew in an obvious attempt to win over his fancy.
“Now that’s a harlot for you, Patrew,” Embekah grumbled, forgetting she was insulting her friend’s hired help.
Tarbra gasped. “Pardon me?”
Embekah grumbled while rising again. “I’m sorry, Tarbra. I shouldn’t have come. I would’ve been better off staying home and forgetting all about those mushrooms.”
Tarbra glared at Embekah with such contempt it was enough to make the sorceress stop altogether.
“I haven’t talked to you in years, Embekah Mare. This is the first chance I get to see you, but you barely give me the time of day. What gives?”
Not wanting to make a scene, Embekah fell back in her seat. “All right, I’ll stay.”
Tarbra grinned triumphantly. “Good. Because, believe it or not, I can help you if you’ll let me.”
“I seriously doubt you can prevent my arrest.”
“Oh, ye of so little faith, Embekah,” Tarbra said, glancing quickly at Patrew. “I recall a time or two where my quick wit got you out of a lot of trouble with your folks.”
The very mention of their parents triggered more fond memories, along with a grin from Embekah. “I must admit, the tall tales you told really amazed me. Did anyone ever figure out that it hadn’t been that run-in with a bunch of snakes that caused me to break curfew?”
“My mother suspected as much, but back then a wave of my hand made every trace of proof vanish,” said Tarbra, her lips receding back into a frown. “I wouldn’t have done that for anyone but you, Em. You were the closest thing to a sister I had back then.”
Embekah opened her mouth to ask a question, but then noticed Patrew breaking away from his conversation. Her spine tingled with dread. Was he coming her way? Would he stop at her table? She slowly exhaled, blaming nothing but coincidence for Patrew’s ill-timed visit to the inn.
Patrew paused at their table. Embekah struggled between not glancing up at him and not making it obvious that she was trying to shield her identity from him.
“You know, unless I’m mistaken, it doesn’t appear as though it’ll likely rain in here anytime soon,” Patrew said to Embekah, the friendliness of his tone genuine. “Of course, many a shoddy roof has proven me wrong before.”
“I’m sorry?” Embekah kept looking toward Tarbra.
Patrew chuckled. “My dear, you’ll not catch a cold in here. Everyone else who’s wearing a cloak has had the common sense to remove their hood.”
Embekah turned her head toward the rest of the patrons, making sure she didn’t make eye contact with Patrew. The knight’s words rang true. Only Embekah still wore her hood, a fact she wanted to kick herself for not realizing.
“I have unsightly scars on my face and would rather not call attention to them, thank you,” Embekah said, amazed by the distinct lack of tension in her tone.
For a second, no words came from the knight. He then cleared his throat and said, “I must beg your pardon, my lady. I hadn’t meant to intrude…”
Sensing she had just gained an advantage, Embekah pursued it. “No, you clearly had meant very much to disrupt a private conversation between old friends. Did I prod my nose into your discussion a second ago when you stood down there?” She gestured toward the other end of the aisle.
Patrew’s stare surveyed the far side of the inn. “No, you hadn’t.” The color retreated from his face as though he had suffered a terrible loss in battle.
Tarbra balled her hands together, resting them upon the table. She seemed to be avoiding looking at Patrew the same way Embekah had a minute earlier, but probably for a different reason. A sudden, uncontrolled chortle from Tarbra confirmed this.
Embekah didn’t let this sap her momentum. “You should feel ashamed of yourself, good sir. I mean, don’t the king and queen instill some sense of nobility in the men they select for their army?”
Tarbra made another squeal. After which, she buried her face in the table’s surface as if to prevent herself from earning the knight’s ire.
“Am I missing something here?” Patrew arched his brow, scratching his head.
Embekah felt her body temperature rising. Now she really hoped she had spread the fragrance of bluebells underneath her arms before leaving home that morning.
“The only thing you’re missing, good sir, is that we ladies would prefer very much to be left alone.”
“Again, I must beg your forgiveness…”
“It’s granted,” Embekah shot back, deliberately cutting him off before he could say anything else. A wave of boldness washed through her, courage she hadn’t experienced since before joining the Raven Rousers. “Now, be gone!”
Patrew bowed to the women, spun around, and strode off with the same dejected movement Embekah usually saw in Halscrad during a heat wave in summer. Every ounce of Embekah’s being went into swallowing down the laughter that sought to escape from her chest.
The moment a guffaw exploded from Tarbra, however, Embekah couldn’t resist any further.
“This is why you shouldn’t let the worry of being captured keep you from living life, Embekah,” Tarbra said, reaching out for Embekah’s palm once more.
Tarbra’s words yanked Embekah back to her present situation. “This was fun, don’t get me wrong.”
“But?” Tarbra hardened her grip.
“It’s just I’ve gotten so used to my current way of life. I don’t see myself being able to walk around in public so long as I’m labeled with that ridiculous charge of treason.”
“Hmm.” Tarbra let go of Embekah before crossing her arms. “I had hoped you would have taken another route with your sorcery. You have such wonderful skills, a deep inner beauty of expression that can come from no one else. Yet you let the world chain you to your guilt. The Embekah I used to get in trouble with all the time would never have let anything stop her.”
Embekah rose again, this time unhindered by Tarbra’s efforts. “It’s not that simple.”
“Isn’t it?” Tarbra joined Embekah a second later, locking gazes with the sorceress.
“I did some growing up since then, Tarbra.”
“Perhaps you grew up too much. You’re only as young as you feel.”
Embekah blinked at Tarbra. “If you only knew the things I had gone through, the traumas which robbed me of my fortitude, you might not be so quick to judge me.”
Tarbra threw her arms around Embekah in a hearty embrace. “So tell me. What crushed all the rebellion out of the rebel?”
Embekah clenched her fists. How could Tarbra not know the reason why, unless the two had already drifted apart before things had gotten ugly? Embekah racked her memories for any detail that could cast some light on what happened. The harder Embekah struggled, the more she failed to remember.
“I carried a child to term soon after the guild disbanded.”
Tarbra gave a slow nod. “That’s right. I do remember hearing about you being pregnant. I just didn’t buy into the innuendo that made you out to be a harlot.”
Embekah went on, “The year we drifted apart was so distorted to me, Tar. I do remember the pain, the fire beneath my skin as my body evicted the little child growing inside of me.
“I had tried to go back to the former headquarters of the guild to deliver the infant in peace, but I wound up giving birth in a dark alley. I was so exhausted that I passed out, and when I awoke some time later, my baby was gone.” Only sheer force of will kept Embekah from screaming her rage into the world.
Tarbra bit her lip. “I’m so sorry, Embekah.”
Noting her friend’s sympathy, Embekah took a deep breath. “Not your fault, Tarbra. After all this time, you’d think I could just….ugh!”
Forgetting herself for a moment, Embekah pounded her fist against the table. A patron next table over gawked at her for a moment before carrying on with the mug of beer in his hand.
“Cursed life!” Embekah whispered, leaning in closer to Tarbra after ensuring that no one else had taken an interest in their conversation. “It just has its way of lashing out at us, tempting us with desire. Then it obliterates our hearts, using those same desires against us.”
She took a sip from the glass of water she had ignored for the past few moments, wishing the liquid was booze instead. What she wouldn’t give to have her worries wash away as she downed a goblet, or better yet a whole bottle, of sweet intoxication.
“Doesn’t it, though?” Tarbra gave a soft smile. “Perhaps we should change this?”
“What would you suggest?”
“That we decide not to let anything keep us from honoring the friendship we’ve spent years forging, or to prevent us from basking in the happiness we both deserve.”
“This is all good and well, Tarbra,” Embekah said, heading toward the door. “But I’m not sure I’m worthy of being happy, not after I’d let my baby be plucked right out of my grasp.”
“Maybe you should forgive yourself a little, Em.”
Embekah reached the front door of the inn. The barmaid who had been so rude to Embekah glowered at the sorceress prior to heading for the bar.
“How can I forgive myself when the rest of the kingdom can’t?”
Embekah waved goodbye before setting foot outside the inn. On the street the crowd had shrunk by almost half. Embekah hesitated at the inn’s entrance to reconsider what Tar had said.
At least mushrooms were now the furthest thing from Embekah’s mind.
CHAPTER 4
INTRUDER
Embekah barely made it inside her house before collapsing. Fortunately, her chaise longue lay only a few feet from the front door. Out of breath and struggling to keep her eyelids apart, Embekah sank into the cushion, keeping her cloak on in lieu of having to search for a blanket. A gentle “ribbit” filled the air from somewhere inside, but Embekah couldn’t lend any vigor to her voice and answer Halscrad.
She fluctuated between moments of consciousness. Each time she drifted away from the waking world, a remnant memory of her infant’s disappearance flickered inside her head, and she’d awaken with her throat parched, her clothing drenched in sweat.
After the third failed attempt at slumber, she found herself staring up at the ceiling. One arm dangled a few inches above the floor, while she pressed the other against her forehead. She sniffled away the threat of tears. To this day she could still almost feel the skin of her brand new baby against hers, almost hear its tiny cries in the alley. Why hadn’t she ever found her child? What kind of mother would ever show such disregard for her offspring?
What was the kid like today? Was he or she even alive? What kind of adult had her precious baby become? She fought with these questions while readjusting her outerwear, concealing most of her flesh. The warmth present in the room remained at a tolerable enough level so that Embekah saw no need for a fire. Even so, she kept her cover pressed against her body.
Her mind meandered away from her distant past to more recent travesties. How could she have let the Royal Army intimidate her off course? She had needed those toadstools for her last defensive measure, but now her goal seemed unattainable. She couldn’t give up. Down in her cellar the bulk of her spell books laid on a shelf, snugly nestled next to one another. Surely one of them had a spell that required no mushrooms for creating an energy barrier.