Seventeen Stones
Authors: Vanessa Wells
Seventeen Stones
by
Vanessa Wells
Text
Copyright © Vanessa Wells 2013
All Rights
Reserved
To my
wonderful, supportive family: Without you, none of this would be possible, and
if it was, it wouldn’t mean a thing anyway.
“Push!”
The woman on the bed pushed again, her black hair dripping with sweat. The
midwife encouraged her. “I can see the head, Alexandria, just a few more
contractions…” She pushed but she was near delirious with pain and sleep deprivation:
she’d been in labor for two days.
Alexandria
Rusticov’s blue eyes flitted to the corner of the specially designed birthing
room. The spells protecting this room made it safe…it was ridiculous to feel
naked without her wand. And yet…was it her imagination, or had the shadow in
the corner changed slightly?
Another
contraction gripped her body, focused her mind on the tearing pain. She
couldn’t push again; but she did. A pale hand pushed a sweaty lock of hair out
of her face. She gripped her husband’s hand as he whispered soft words to
her…then another contraction bowed her spine. A few excruciating seconds later
she was rewarded by a healthy cry as the final contractions removed the
placenta from her womb. She lay, panting and exhausted, as the midwife cleaned
the child.
The
woman beamed at the couple. “You have a daughter! A strong, healthy girl.”
Alexandra smiled up at her husband. He’d insisted that the baby would be a girl.
He grinned down at her and then leaned close to kiss her moist forehead. “What
do you want to call her?” She didn’t have to think about it. “I’d like to
call her Amelia for my mother, Minerva for yours.” His brow contracted, he
didn’t like that for some reason. Minerva was a bit old fashioned…
It
went unsaid that the baby would have Alexandra’s maiden name, at least for now.
The couple had married in secret because his enemies would see Alexandra as a
target. As a full-fledged Greatlady, Alexandria was absolutely lethal if the
need presented itself: yet the Oracle warned that her life was in terrible
danger as the birth approached. Thus the warded, guarded birthing room.
Those
thoughts had preoccupied Alexandria for months, but they didn’t intrude as she
looked down at her daughter’s perfect face. When Alexandra would have waved
off the blood replenishing potion, she was given a stern look from both her
husband and the midwife. She reluctantly drank it while the woman piled
pillows around her. The warm weight of her daughter made the Greatlady smile.
She cooed at the child and held her close; eventually, she dozed. The midwife
gently removed the sleeping infant from her arms and took the baby to a nurse
down the hall. The Greatlady’s husband smiled at his sleeping wife, tenderly
kissed her lips, and left her sleeping.
***
The
shadow had been waiting. The child was perfect; exactly what had been
foretold. The woman was no longer necessary, and she was becoming tiresome.
She would be more so as the child aged. Better to remove her now, with the
excuse of a long and exhausting labor.
It
took on the physical form and dispatched the woman. It was, by necessity,
quick and quiet…but she saw the end coming. The shadow could not resist. The
surprise on Alexandra’s panicked face was too delicious. The shadow flitted
past the protections without a whisper from the supposedly impenetrable spell.
***
Seconds
later the midwife returned with fresh towels. She didn’t notice Alexandra’s still
form at first. As she moved the toweling, the midwife noticed that the blood
wasn’t flowing as before, and noted how cool the lady’s flesh felt… Her
muffled cry alerted the Greatlady’s husband…the Midwife didn’t even think his
name to herself. He brought the rest of the wand wielders when he came.
He
howled with rage as he looked at his dead wife. “What happened?” The midwife
stuttered. “I…I don’t know! She was fine. I went to get more toweling, and
she passed on…The blood replenishing potion must have been faulty.” He roared
and pulled out his wand. She trembled when she saw the mad look in his eyes. She
fell when a bright light hit her in the face. The wand wielders behind him
were rendered unconscious a moment later.
He
walked over to Alexandra’s body. Her face was ghostly pale, haggard from the
long labor. Without her spirit the features looked unfinished, as if without
the fire of her soul lighting them, she had never been beautiful to begin with.
He took a ragged breath. With difficulty, he reminded himself: It wasn’t the
midwife’s fault. This was his fault. His enemies must have found out
somehow. He might as well have killed his wife with his own hands. He kissed
her cool skin. The midwife was sitting up, waking from the memory spell.
Letting go of Alexandria’s body was like plunging a knife into his own chest;
but if the child was to be protected, he had to act quickly.
He looked into the midwife’s mud-brown eyes. “The
Greatlady is dead. You need to see to the child, call the solicitor, and
contact the guardian the Greatlady chose.” Funny, he hadn’t approved of her
choice…but he would see that her wishes were followed to the letter. “I was
not here; you have no idea who the father of this child was.” The midwife’s
eyes were still glazed over, but she nodded. He quickly told the guards what
they would remember, and then he walked away. His wife was dead. He had never
held the child. His enemies would pay. He would never rest until they did.
“Amelia
Minerva Rusticov!!!!” She knew she was in trouble when her guardian used her
full name…normally, she was just Mia…
Emma Faithling puffed out a
heavy breath as she tied the bundle of herbs on her hip with her shawl.
“Mia!” Her tone was hushed. The two of them were deep in the forest, away
from the City protections, but even hushed it was unmistakable. “Do you
realize how far you wandered?” Mia looked around and picked up her own sack
of roots.
“All
the young roots were gone from the clearing…I didn’t go very far…”
Emma’s brows touched her
hairline. “Yes you did. It took my birds twenty minutes to find you. Look at
the sun!”
Mia’s
eyes widened as she tried to see the position of the sun through the canopy of
trees. It was much later than she’d thought. She hefted the sack of roots on
her shoulder and she and Emma began to ghost through the trees, not quite
running, but moving quickly along the game trails, stopping once or twice as
Emma’s faithful birds warned of unseen menaces on the trail. It was dangerous
to be in the forest during the day. Being in the forest at night was
suicidal.
They
were lucky. There was only one close call. An Ursa Major was moving down the
same trail that Mia and Emma had been using…they dove into the surrounding
brush, flattening themselves to an ancient tree. Thankfully, the great bear
was not hunting. It was moving as rapidly as it could to its own home; even
with paws the size of dinner plates it was as leery as Emma and Mia of the
larger predators that would wake as the sun set. Emma relaxed her grip on
Mia’s arm as the bear passed. She looked up to the trees and nodded as her
birds chirped the all clear, and they broke out of the deep forest and into the
woods that surrounded Emma’s cottage before the sun had set.
Mia
shivered as she heard a ruckus in the trees as they moved away from the
invisible barrier that protected the village from the terrible predators in the
forest. Something had been lurking, shadowing them, and it had been much too
close.
Sunset was coloring the
western sky as they walked up to the cottage. Mia took Emma’s bundle. Her
guardian, the local healer, nodded wearily and went inside without a word. Mia
was wracked with guilt. Only a fool went into the forest distracted. She
knew that…but she’d let her mind wander while she was digging roots.
She
quickly tied the herbs in bundles and hung them upside down to dry. The roots
would keep until tomorrow when one of them found time to stew them into an
anti-arthritis potion. They were best used fresh.
Mia entered the cottage.
“Emma…”
The old healer just
shrugged. “All’s well that ends well…though I must say, you’ve been mightily
distracted this past week….is there anything weighing on your mind?”
“Emma,
are you
sure
I’ll be accepted to the College?” The old woman turned,
drying her hands on a rag that had once been her market-day skirt. Her young
charge looked at her uncertainly.
Emma
tossed the rag back to its place and stationed both fists on her ample hips. “You
show all the signs. And who, may I ask, has been putting doubts into your head?”
Mia perched on the battered oak stool while she stared fixedly at the table.
This was her home: a three room cottage where she’d lived with Emma since she
was a baby. After a moment of contemplating the familiar scrapes on the tabletop,
the words burst out of her. “Martin Ainsley says that there isn’t a chance
I’ll be chosen. He says that I don’t have the same hair and eyes as the home children
and girls don’t go often anyway…” He’d said much more than that, but she
wasn’t repeating it.
Emma
busied herself cutting slices of cheese off a wheel sitting on the table.
“Martin Ainsley’s parents kept him too long in the City when he was born. It
must have addled his brain. Either that or he’s been spoiled rotten his entire
life. Your mother, may she rest in peace, was one of the most powerful wand
wielders in the entire City before she died. Your magic is as developed as any
of those brats from the home. A month from now you’ll be leaving for the College.”
Her tone changed. “Now, enough of this; we’ll have no dinner at all if we keep
on this way!” Emma reached into the oven and pulled the cornbread out with her
bare hand. Mia envied that gift. She loved to cook, but she didn’t have much
of a gift for flames: she could light a fire if she concentrated very hard, but
she couldn’t control the temperature or keep from burning herself. She had the
scars on her hands to prove it.
Emma
had finished slicing the cheese and was arranging it on a plate. “I think that
some fresh goat’s milk would go nicely with this, don’t you?” That was her
cue. Mia hopped off the stool and rushed out the door. The light of sunset
was fading quickly. Emma called after her. “See if there are any ripe
tomatoes left in the garden!” As she passed by the garden, she glanced at the
neat rows of vegetables and vaulted nimbly over the goat’s fence.
Nanny
bleated a greeting. At least Mia thought it was a greeting. She didn’t have
the gift for animal speech. The goat could be saying insulting things about
her hygiene as far as she knew. She did use her magic to calm the contrary
creature. A tiny bit of magic convinced Nanny that she actually
wanted
to sit still, and more importantly, that she
didn’t
want to bite. Mia sent
out other tendrils of magic as she milked. The day’s droppings floated out of
the pen and onto the compost pile. The dust from the goat’s coat obediently
puffed away over the fence. Food and water floated into the pen. The crickets
were serenading her as she finished.
Mia
carefully carried the bucket of milk over the fence while two ripe tomatoes
floated up from the vegetable garden and bounced dutifully behind her. As she
re-entered the cottage she saw Emma standing at the window, haloed in the light
from the cottage. The old woman shook her head. “And after all that you’re
worried about going to the college? You do more without a wand than some do
with one.” She paused for a second. “Have any of those children from the home
seen how much magic you can do?” Mia shook her head as she washed her hands in
the basin of water on the table. Except for market days, she rarely went to
the village, and stayed as far away from the home children in general (and Martin
Ainsley in particular) as she could.
She
had never been to the City. Children weren’t allowed inside the stone walls.
Those few born inside the City gates were sent away for their own protection.
It wasn’t safe. The magic from the wand work could warp things, especially
young growing things like small animals and children.
Later
that evening Emma chided her toward the table for an evening snack. “You did a
lot of magic today. That wears a body out. You need protein and sugar so you
will have something to run on.” Emma poured a cup of cider and placed a bowl
of nuts at her young charge’s side. “You have to promise me that you’ll
remember that when you go to college.” Mia beamed at her guardian for the vote
of confidence and started cracking the nuts by hand. She wasn’t really hungry,
but she enjoyed the bite of the tart cider.
As
she picked the nutmeats out of the shells and bitters she considered her
possible future. Emma had the strongest natural magic in the village. She could
grow herbs, calm the sick, speak with birds, and as the midwife and herbalist
she brewed every potion in a ten mile radius, everything from a treatment for
gout to the common soap that they washed the laundry with. But Emma was not a
wand wielder, had never been to the college, and only rarely traveled the
distance to the City.
The
only time Mia remembered Emma specifically mentioned going to the City was when
she was called to the bedside of a Greatlady. Alexandra Rusticov had grown up
in the local home and had once been enough of a friend to the old healer that
Emma rushed to her side when she was told that she’d given birth early to a
little girl. The Greatlady died before Emma arrived.
Before
her death, Greatlady Rusticov had arranged to foster her child with Emma rather
than sending her to a home for wanded offspring. Alexandra Rusticov had no
living relatives, and those with Great status were not allowed to leave the
City often enough to be of any use in raising a child. Emma and the trustees
saw no reason to change the original plan just because Alexandria was gone.
Mia’s
young life had been wonderful, exciting. She spent her days playing under the
healer’s watchful eye while Emma brewed potions. Mia’s games usually involved
mixing her own ‘potions’: pounding random seeds and berries into mush,
shredding grass and leaves, (and throwing in some dirt for good measure) in an
old bucket and trying to feed the resulting concoctions to her friend Tim. Tim
had always had better sense that to try any of her ‘potions’. Then again, Mia
hadn’t eaten any of his mud pies either. She attended the village school two
days a week, quickly gained the minimal education required by City regulations,
and then began her real education at Emma’s knee. She learned to grow,
nurture, and harvest medicinal herbs, brew potions, and patch up the various
scrapes and bruises that the villagers brought to Emma to heal. She and Emma
went into the forest in search of those herbs they couldn’t grow in a garden.
Fourteen
years had passed since her birth. Mia grew up, not in the sterile environment
of a home for the children of wanded parents; but tending garden and gathering
wild herbs and yes, milking the goat. She’d never envied those pale, quiet children
she’d seen as she helped tend Emma’s booth. But as the time of the testing
neared, she found herself wondering if she would have a better chance of going
to the college if her mother had arranged a more conventional home for her
before she died…
Emma
chided her to bed after she finished her nuts and cider. “An’ don’t stay up
half the night reading either! We’ve a mess of potions to brew tomorrow!”
Mia dunked a cloth in the
plain crockery washbasin in her room and washed the day’s dust from her face.
She’d wash her hair in the little creek behind the cottage tomorrow; the water
was still running well from the spring rains. In two months she’d have to haul
water from the well to bathe in…if she wasn’t in the City attending the college
by that time. She firmly suppressed a wiggly wave of mixed anticipation and
dread. She was fairly used to it at this point.
Mia pulled
the sheets back from her bed, and plunked her head down in the down pillow that
Emma had made for her last year. It smelled like lavender and herbs, and the
covering was so thick that she didn’t get jabbed by every sharp feather as she
settled into bed. As she looked out her single window into the leafy darkness,
she searched for the stars, and wondered what the college would be like.
Every
child she knew (from the ones like Martin who were almost assured a place, to
the children like Tim who didn’t stand a chance of going) all of them talked
about the college in tones of awed wonder. That was where they came from: the
wand wielders who placed the protective spells over the villages, who mined the
ore with a flick of their wands, and created magical machines and charmed
merchandise. All of them graduated from the college.
They
didn’t see wand wielders much in the village. They passed through sometimes,
on their way to their estates, or visiting the home where their children lived
until they started college or off on mysterious business for the City itself.
The drove in carriages with spells on the paint to keep the road dust off, with
horses whose feet barely touched the ground. Even their boots had spells on
them to repel mud. The sheer amount of magic they used every day was amazing.
Of course, there was no guarantee that the wand wielders would be decent human
beings. She pictured a City full of people like Martin Ainsley and shuddered.
If they were like that, she’d really rather stay in the village.
Not
that she’d have any say in it. If you tested out for the college you went. If
not, you made your own way in the world, taking whatever apprenticeship that your
natural magic was suited to. A lot of people stayed in the same village they
were born in until the day they died. A vision of goats danced in her head and
she rolled over and tried to get some sleep.
***
The
next market day she was working at the booth handing the local villagers their
orders, and taking payment. Emma sat close by in the shade, sipping cider and
having a nice chat with Mrs. Emit about arthritis medication. Mia handed
Hannah the rose soap the girl had ordered the week before. She grinned when
she tried to pay for it. “Emma said it was a gift for the wedding.” Hannah
was going to marry Bobby Newman next week. The girl stuttered for a moment but
Mia cut across her. “If you want to argue with Emma, be my guest. She told me
that I wasn’t supposed to accept a bit of payment from you. I’m not going to
cross her over it.” Mia held Hannah’s eye for a minute. The shy girl nodded
and hurried away, sniffing the fragrant bars as she left.