Page 5 of The Witch's Fate
In Abrakearth to the south, however, there are shadow walkers. To the north, there are shadow fae. There is very little to prevent either of those from crossing this territory. Except for the threat of the witch of course. But how powerful could she really be against so many others? I’ve found no sign that either shadow fae or shadow walkers have ventured here, at least in recent days. I stay alert nonetheless, growing more and more curious about the witch.
In the back of my mind, I wonder if she knows I’m here.
I follow the path to the edge of the forest and finally emerge into a large clearing. It stretches away from the trees far enough that it could be a field or a valley. I tip my face toward the sky and drink in the sight of the stars. The dark night is littered with beauty. I don’t mind being in the woods, but I can breathe easier under the open sky.
Keeping close to the trees, I move around the outside of the field, following the shallow dips in the land until I find a space that is not so visible. It is only a few steps down, but that will do for opening the portal. I do not need secrecy, but the shape of the land will focus the energy into its curve, gathering it closer and making it easier to send the florals through.
I pause on the low rise and look across the field. Its colors are pale in the moonlight, but as the dawn comes closer, the colors deepen.
A new day is beginning. A huff leaves me. Perhaps that is why the heaviness under my eyes begs me to sleep.
I feel a strange ache in my chest. This land is beautiful. I’ve spent these last days in peace as I gathered the flowers, and despite my feelings about the wedding, I’m grateful that the mission was easy. A soldier cannot hope for better. I did not risk life or limb, was not injured, and gathered all that the royal house asked of me and more.
The pang I feel has nothing to do with a sense of failure.
It is more a sense of…curiosity. A longing I’ve not hoped for or even acknowledged in so long. The quiet thoughts of my mind are my enemy.
Again, I think back to the witch of Athica, wondering where she resides, as I’ve searched this land thoroughly.
Dropping the bag to the ground and ready to form the portal, I find myself wishing I had more time. The irony and hypocrisy, not wanting to be alone with my thoughts and yet not wanting to return, is not lost on me. It is a torture of my own doing.
I would have liked to see the witch’s home. I would have liked to see the witch herself. Some rumors say she lives in a cottage. Others say she lives in a fortress underground. Still others say her house is invisible, and the sight of it can kill a man.
There is a curiosity that tugs me to her. It’s unsettling.
The sun peeks through the tree trunks, gracing my arm with the first rays of dawn. The tiny cuts have all gone. I think sarcastically,alas I can tell the prince I was not harmed in the errand.A huff of a laugh bristles up my chest and a smirk tilts my lips up.
A breeze gusts through my hair, and—I smell something on it.
My body stills and a seriousness takes over. The scent is sweet and has the tone of magic to it, but not any magic I have confronted before. It is heady and enticing, like it is calling me to hunt. To find it. To give in to my own curiosity and forget the florals. To find whoever it is that causes such a scent to be in the world and press my nose closer to know her better.
Her? What thoughts plague me?
I shake my head, turning my face away from the breeze. I do not often have flights of fancy like that. It is not the kind of thing for a seasoned soldier to get the better of him. I will not let it get the better of me. The light grows and I stay focused on my task, although the scent is like nothing I’ve felt before and yet it is so familiar.
The portal, I command myself. At least to send the flowers through.
Birds fly out of the trees by my side, their calls echoing across the fields. I step down into the dip in the land, readjust my pack, and set about opening the portal.
The first step is to place the stone anchor on the ground. The anchor itself is not very large so that it can be carried long distances if necessary. I place a charged crystal into the space carved for it in the anchor. Energy hums all around me. I speak the words in a low voice, “Now you open, now I enter,” and the portal opens.
It is small, perhaps the size of a mirror, to start with, but that is large enough for my purposes. I have gathered the florals andput them into bundles that can be rolled up and tied off. With a length of rope, I secure them together and find that they will not fit.
The magic gets louder as I press the portal farther open. It should not take much. An inch or two. I slot the bundle into the portal, lean my entire weight against it, and push.
With a final heave, the florals pop into the portal and disappear, the surface shimmering like water on the surface of a pond. My shoulder hits the rippling barrier, and I pull back.
I won’t fit through the portal as small as it is, but sending the florals was more difficult than I anticipated. Something feels off and a nervousness I don’t appreciate comes over me.
Taking a few steps back from the portal I rest one of my feet on the low rise surrounding the small valley. The field around me is even brighter now. The sunrise is making the colors vivid, and I feel that pang again. That longing to spend more time roaming these fields without the weight of the florals on my back. To seek out something no one else has ever found so that I can see it with my own eyes.The witch.Even my wolf stirs at the thought.
On my next breath, the scent returns. As if I’ve summoned it with thoughts of her. It’s faint, like it is coming from far off or does not want to be found, and yet it is so distinct from the grasses and flowers and trees that I cannot help but notice it. I’ll never forget it as long as I live. Even in this moment I know that. I take another deep breath in spite of myself, holding it in and closing my eyes, trying to know more about it, but it is only a scent on the wind. It fades in a matter of moments, or I become used to it. My wolf whines.
Everything in my body tells me to seek out more of that scent.
My knuckles turn white as I clench my fists at my sides, warring with myself. There is no reason other than my own desire to seek out the witch. Something tells me it would not bedifficult to find the source. I’m strong enough and fast enough to do it. After so many days picking my way through the forests and fields, I crave a run and a hunt. I need to feel my heart pumping from a real challenge.
But there will be no such thing to find. I already know that.
