Page 1 of Enslaved By Magic

Chapter One

(Then)

She struggled against the wind. Her long dark hair whipped wildly around her as she fought her way up the steep mountain path. She was tired, exhausted even before her trip began, and her stomach hurt from too many days of not enough food. Worse, the long lengths of fabric wrapped around her body weren’t enough to keep her skin from chilling as she climbed.

The exertions helped to keep her warm, but the higher she went, the colder it became. Every time she was forced to pause for rest, her teeth would begin to chatter, and she had to rub her hands together briskly to bring back the feeling in her numb fingers. The large cedar trees helped some, providing windbreaks to huddle behind, but it got harder to force herself back to the path, and she had no idea how much farther she needed to go.

Not nearly to the top where the snow currently glittered a fiery red under the setting sun, she hoped. It was a poor time of year to make a journey that was difficult in the best of seasons, but her desperation left her no choice. The instructions she’d been given were vague, and she had no idea how much longer it would take or if she’d reach her destination before darkness covered the mountain. If that happened, she was sure to end up lost among the trees.

It was one of a dozen fears that kept her moving when she wanted so badly to lie down and sleep. She’d grown afraid that if she sat down, even for a moment, she’d be overwhelmed by her exhaustion and be unable to get back up to continue. She had to content herself with leaning against the rough reddish-brown bark of the nearest timber for a few moments, gathering her energy before taking another dozen steps or so to the next tree.

She didn’t know how long she’d been walking, only that she was weary and out of strength. She’d been told the top could be reached in a day, but she’d started her travels before the sun had come up, and there had been hours of walking before she even reached the base of the mountain. Now, it seemed like she’d been at this for an eternity and everything was miserable. Her legs ached and her feet were sore from sharp rocks that pressed easily through the thin soles of her shoes.

The small hunk of bread she’d brought for sustenance was long gone, and she hadn’t passed a stream in so long that she couldn’t have swallowed even if she’d saved a few crumbs. Almost, she wished that the snow had traveled this far down the mountain. At least then she could wet her mouth with it, but it was too early in the season for that. Just being reminded of her thirst increased it, and she had to stop.

She bent down, retrieved a small round pebble from the ground and cleaned it carefully on her skirt before popping it under her tongue. It helped to wet her mouth a little and gave her something to focus on besides her thirst. Her father had taught her that trick as a child, but this was the first time she’d needed it so badly.

Thinking of her father and his loss was still painful, and she pushed it out of her mind. Rejecting it along with the physical needs she couldn’t fill, she focused instead on putting one foot in front of the other and concentrated on reaching the next tree and then the next. Her mind drifted as her body worked beyond the limits of her endurance until, without noticing it, she’d come to a stop.

At first, she didn’t understand why she wasn’t moving. She blinked, pulling back into her body reluctantly as she rolled the pebble in her mouth. She shivered and looked around slightly dazed, only to realize it was now completely dark. She could no longer choose distant trees as her next goal because she couldn’t see farther than a few feet in front of her anymore, despite the half-moon that hung directly overhead. She wondered if that was why she’d stopped.

But then, to her left, there was a flickering light that caught her attention and she turned toward it, peering through the trees. Could that be her goal? It had to be! No one else lived on this side of the mountain; it had too many dark tales attached to it. Rumors and stories about sinister magic kept most people away—but then, that was why she was here. Hoping for some magical solution to save her family, she was risking everything.

Drawn to the light, she somehow found a reserve of energy she hadn’t realized she had left. She was filled with equal parts hope and fear as she moved through the thick cedar, and she could almost feel the warmth of the fire beckoning her from inside the small cottage. There was one window and it gave off a welcoming glow that belied the ominous look of the structure. The glass was too thick and warped to give her a view inside. All she could see was light and flickering shadows as she stood there trying to gather the courage to knock on the rough-hewn planks that made up the door.

There were thin gaps between the wood where light shone through, and she paused as she raised her hand to knock, wondering if she shouldn’t try to get a look first. She didn’t really know who was inside. She had only dark rumors of magic and payment. Some said the hermit was a demon. She leaned in to press her eye against a narrow space, but before she could get a glimpse inside, the door swung open. She let out a startled gasp, nearly tripping as she stepped back hurriedly.

“Why are you lurking outside of my house, girl?” the man demanded. His voice was harsh and stern, and she found herself unable to answer.

She stared at the man who filled the doorway; her dark eyes had gone wide with shock. He was… odd looking, and strange in a way she couldn’t quite explain, but he was no demon. His coloring and features wouldn’t have appeared out of place in her small village, and yet there was something about him that was other. At first glance, he was handsome. His flawless olive skin and dark brown eyes were captivating, and she felt a little flutter of interest despite herself.

And then his mouth twisted, and he settled his cold gaze on her. “Did you come all this way to spy on me? Have you no tongue? Speak up!” he snarled. Suddenly the beauty of his face was gone. His cheekbones seemed to sharpen like blades that left shadowed hollows and his eyes—they changed. She couldn’t explain it but somehow, they seemed less human.

She swallowed hard and nearly choked on the pebble she’d forgotten was in her mouth. She’d have been embarrassed except the coughing fit gave her a chance to remember why she was there, and what she needed from this man. She spit out the offending rock and straightened, trying to gather what courage the long journey and darkness had left her.

“I h-heard about you in my town. They said you had magic… that you would do favors for people,” she said. The words tumbled out of her mouth in a rush.

“Did they also tell you that there is a price for my services, girl?” he asked. His face seemed to return to a more attractive state, but now that she’d seen the change, she could sense the other one lurking underneath. It was like he was wearing a pleasant mask and she couldn’t unsee the truth.

“Yes, they told me,” she said. She hesitated, then boldly continued, “They said you were dangerous but that you could do things no one else could. So, I’ve come to ask for your help.”

“Have you? A little thing like you, all alone in the dark? Hmm.” His eyes bored into her face, as though examining and judging her—but then he stepped back and gestured her inside. “I would be a poor host to leave you out in the cold night then, especially if we can do business. Come in,” he said.

She hesitated for a long moment. There was a strong urge to turn and run all the way back down the mountain. Exhaustion and the fear of what might lie out there in the dark wasn’t enough to keep her there but remembering her family back home who was counting on her for help was. She stepped inside, pulling her clothes tighter to keep from brushing him as she passed.

She went straight to the welcoming fire and held her hands out gratefully, but the heat couldn’t melt the icy tendrils of fear that trickled down her back. Even if she’d never heard the rumors, even if she knew nothing about this man… she felt like she’d have known there was something frightening about him. Her skin crawled and she tried not to show her fear when he moved closer to her, but he passed her and began to fill a bowl with something that had been simmering in a pot in the fireplace.

It smelled spicy and good and her stomach protested its emptiness loudly. She felt her cheeks heat with embarrassment, but she couldn’t help sneaking a longing glance at the soup he’d ladled into the bowl. Unlike the watery broth they ate at home, this was thick. Large chunks of meat and vegetables crowded against each other and her mouth watered at the delicious aroma.

“Here,” he said, thrusting the bowl into her hands. “Eat. I’ll never find out why you’ve come all this way if you collapse on my floor.” It was a kind gesture, but his voice was cold and without inflection.

Another man might sound deliberately gruff to hide a tender heart, but she didn’t sense that in this one. It really felt like he was feeding her for the exact reason he’d stated. It didn’t matter; she was starving, and the moment her cold hands wrapped around the steaming bowl, she lifted it to her mouth and began to suck the food down with noisy gulps. It did occur to her briefly that it could be drugged or poisoned, but the bite of hunger was fierce, and she just couldn’t force herself to care.

He waited without comment, not eating himself. When she finished the bowl, he filled it a second time and then walked over to a comfortable-looking seat and sat down to watch her eat with a slightly amused look on his face.

She forced herself to slow down. She didn’t have much pride left but that look on his face rankled what there was. Ignoring her stomach’s demand she fill it faster, she pretended an interest in his cottage, turning slowly to take it all in as she allowed herself the occasional sip. It wasn’t what she expected, and it was odd enough to push the fear and hunger back to make way for curiosity.

She’d never seen a home like this. Not among the poor people like her own family, and not among the wealthy who sometimes used to hire her for the jobs no one in their household wanted to do. It was entirely foreign and crammed with small treasures from other lands. Precious metals and sparkling stones glinted here and there on small statues and chests. The walls were covered with rich fabrics the likes of which she’d never seen before. Her mother would have paid dearly just to set eyes on the incredibly detailed weaving of the cloth, if there’d been anything to pay with.

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