Page 9 of The Wand of Lore

Stories from others who had ventured so far put Aldersbridge at a half day’s ride. Of course, she remindedherself, she was on foot and not on horseback, and she was off to a late start. She cursed herself for the extra sleep she had stolen that morning, but she had needed it to replenish her energy. She would never admit it aloud, not with Nayla always at her side, but she had pushed her magic more than was prudent, and she was lucky to awaken at all.

As expected, Nayla had protested her departure. “Why can’t I come? You need me if you draw too much power! Besides, it’s not fair that you get to see all of Innsbrook while I have to stay here.”

“Sister, it’s too risky. You’re not ready to cast powerful spells yet, and you need your own rest. The cottage will protect you. Besides, the villagers blame me for the plague, not you, and you’ll be safer without me. And if something does happen to me, the village will need you to take my place.”

“I’m not letting you go alone! We won’t be separated!”

Gwenneth didn’t respond but went to her baby sister and held her as she sobbed. She yearned to say, “Yes, come with me. I need you at my side, and I am lost without you.” But the words stuck in her throat, and instead, she ran her fingers through Nayla’s hair and shushed her as she had when Nayla was a toddler crying after a frightening dream.

Gwenneth understood Nayla’s reluctance to let her go. The girl couldn’t remember her mother, and neither ever knew their father. All they had was each other. Occasionally the Owenses still came by with gifts of clothing or food, and they spent their days taking care of villagers who were polite enough. But at the end of the day, the villagers could always turn on them like a monster from the stories. With everyone else gone, why should Nayla trust that Gwenneth would come back? But she would. She had to go to the castle and ascertain whether there was truth in the rumor that her mother’s wand still existed. It was the only chance Nayla had to survive the Devil’s Plagueresting like a deadly snake in her body, and Gwenneth wouldn’t have her sister trailing her in constant danger. The journey was long, and along the way were too many villages and townships with too many people she didn’t know. Worse, there were rumors about what happened to witches in the city. Whispers of shackles and forced magic and collars too horrible to imagine. These were probably just stories exaggerated through retellings, but all the same, it was best to go alone. When it was time to go, she lingered long in the doorway, wishing she could talk herself out of leaving. She could stay home and sit by the fire as the days grew colder and keep watch on her sister and read the delicious new book she had paid a pretty penny to obtain. But no, Nayla needed her. She grabbed hold of the doorframe and wrenched herself away without looking back.

It was a long road to Gorenth, and Gwenneth wasn’t exactly sure of the way. She had been only as far as the forest on the outskirts of Loews Hollow. She couldn’t even say for sure how long the journey might last. Surely someone in the village knew. Perhaps Mr. Jardin, who had even been as far north as the Jagged Mountains and spent his days traveling between villages peddling wares and gossip, but Gwenneth didn’t dare stop by the general store where he was sure to be at this time. She didn’t want anyone knowing that Nayla would be home alone, nor did she care to advertise that there would be a witch roaming about Gorenth alone and vulnerable. The rumors of witch torture in the castle were probably false, but still, the less attention the better. She kept her head down and walked onward.

“Hey! You!” a familiar voice called out.

She ignored it and picked up her pace.

“Halt! I’m talking to you!”

At this, she did stop and swung around. There sat Marvin astride his horse, staring at her with his permanent scowl. “Justwho do you think you are telling anyone, much less me, to halt? Honestly, the nerve!”

Marvin squinted at her, considering her words for a moment. “Well, who do you think you are to walk past me without responding?”

“I think I am a villager who belongs in Loews Hollow and doesn’t talk to strangers, much less those who are cursed and running out of time.”

“About that,” he growled, and his face contorted.

Gwenneth thought for a moment that he must be in pain, but then it dawned on her. He was going to ask her for help, and it actually hurt him! She laughed aloud.

“What’s so funny?”

“Are you trying to ask me for help? Just admit it.”

“Absolutely not. Why should I even believe you about this alleged curse? You’re just saying that to scare me. If I was cursed, I could fix it. You could say I’m well-connected.”

“Okay.” Gwenneth shrugged and turned away, not bothering to mention that his foot actually looked dead to the naked eye. His delusions were not her problem.

“Wait!”

“I really have to be on my way. I’m off to a late start, and you are further delaying me.”

“You’re on your way? Where couldyoupossibly be going?”

“Your curse must be further progressed than I thought if you think I’ll divulge that.”

“You’re leaving town. You’re scared. Admit it.”

“Obviously I’m leaving town. What are you, a genius?” This man was really starting to grate her nerves.

“Listen,” he said, and his face contorted again. The right side of his lip went up, his nostrils flared, and his eyebrows furrowed.

Gwenneth fought back a giggle. There he was again, trying to ask for help. She wouldn’t interrupt him this time, even though she hadn’t been lying that there was nothing she could do for him, supposing she even wanted to help.

“Is the curse real? Or did you just make it up to get rid of me?”

“Now why would I do that?” The smile she was biting back crept onto her face.

“Perhaps you might not like me.” Every word sounded as if it had been wrenched from his throat. He looked away, resembling a petulant child caught with his hand in a biscuit jar.

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