The Wealding Word (18 page)
Authors: A C Gogolski
Nell knew there was no arguing with the sorceress, but she was irrationally hurt that Lady Zel was not willing to spend her life protecting her. She fought back angry tears. “Fine. When do I go?”
“Mr. Domani will come for you tomorrow.”
Nell woke up earlier than usual, wondering if it was the last time she’d ever sleep in the tower. Sitting on the side of her bed, she picked up the candlestone. It reminded her of the many mornings she spent last winter at home, when the first thing she did was hide her golden acorn in her pocket. They were about the same size, the candlestone and the acorn. “I wonder what would happen if I planted you,” she asked idly.
With nothing better to do, she and Rawley walked down the stairs of the tower and went outside to meet the morning. The sun was just breaking over the woods, shining directly in her eyes. It was already warm, with insects humming the hymns of summer in her ears. A haze hung over the trees, and Nell realized it meant a rider was coming. The distant beat of hooves soon confirmed it. “Rawley, stay by me,” she told the dog. The pair stood at the top of the stairs, ready to retreat inside at the first sign of danger.
Lady Zel said the hermit was supposed to come for her today, but Nell couldn’t imagine the old man galloping breakneck through the forest. Just then a roan charger raced forth, scattering the flock of sheep strolling before the tower. It was a soldier from the castle in full armor and a deep blue cloak. He jumped off his horse and removed his silver helm in one smooth motion. “Nell, I’m so glad you’re still here.”
“Ward!” Nell ran down the stairs to meet him.
“The queen sent me to guide you to the Widow’s keep,” he told her. “But why do you need to go to such a place?”
The sorceress’ voice answered from behind Nell. “Young man, this girl doesn’t need your protection. Queen Pharisij is well aware of the plan to help Nell, and you are most certainly not a part of it.”
“I beg your pardon Lady,” replied Ward, “but it is the queen’s opinion that Nell is in more peril than you think. The minions of the Widow cannot be trusted to deliver her to the keep.”
“Wait,” shouted Nell, turning on Lady Zel. “Minions? Do you mean to kill me?”
The sorceress frowned. “Nell, these past few months have been dear to me. I forgot the joys of having a young person about. But you can’t spend your youth caged in a tower. That’s why you need to see the Rhiannon.”
Bitter tears streamed down Nell’s cheeks. “She’s the one that sent the grumlins to steal Lexi, and she burned the weald! Why? Why would you send me to her?”
“This is not something I want to do,” Lady Zel said. “But you are afflicted by a Malady, and freeing you of its curse requires extraordinary measures. What you need is the Word Isolet – banishing magic, and very dangerous to wield. Rhiannon possesses this Word, and can use it to send the Malady back to wherever it came from.”
“But why would she do that for me? She’s queen of the grumlins!”
The sorceress put her hand on Nell’s cheek. “Why? Because there is a particular Word of Power that she does not have: the Word Eternis, and I am her only means of acquiring it. Rhiannon feels it is her rightful inheritance from me, and will aid us to finally achieve it.”
Nell exploded with a surge of hope. “But
you
know all the Words! You can use the Isolet Word! Just this once!”
“No Nell, I don’t know every Word. There are forms of magic that burn a person on the inside when used, and the Word Isolet
ranks high among them. I don’t practice sorcery like that,” she sighed, “but, for Rhainnon it is a specialty.”
It was then that the hermit trundled out of the forest pushing a rusty wheelbarrow. It squeaked along the way, protesting against the load of books within. Peter wore his patchwork coat, despite the heat of the summer morning, and most amazing of all, a tarnished sword hung at his hip. “Well, well,” said the sorceress, looking him over.
“What are you gawking at?” he demanded. Peter parked the wheelbarrow before the tower steps, and then unslung the bundle of essentials strapped to his back. “These are the most important of them. You can go and get the rest yourself.”
Lady Zel knew why he was bringing the books. If things went badly, it was likely he would not survive the trip to Rhiannon’s keep. It pained the sorceress to think their relationship might end like this, after all they had been through. Long ago, when the hermit was a younger man, he had run off with much of Lady Zel’s library, and it had been a source of contention between them for many years. But the books were a relic of their past together, tangible evidence of another life. Lady Zel was sure the scholarly old man would not be giving them back if he thought he might return. “Peter,” she began gently, wanting to try one last time to repair the wrongs of the past.
The hermit stumbled backward, keeping the wheelbarrow between them. He quickly changed the subject. “Who’s this?” he asked, squinting at the soldier standing near Nell.
“I am Edward, a servant of the queen. I believe we met before, sir. The day of the fire,” the young man said. “I will be accompanying this young lady north.”
“No,” both Lady Zel and Peter said together. “You’ll ruin our chances,” the old man finished.
“Of reaching the sea safely? I think not,” Ward replied. “I can protect her much better than you, sir.”
“No, not protect,” replied Lady Zel, “He means our chances of completing this quest. Nell is plagued by a demon who feeds on suffering and misfortune. As long as she is with me, the Malady will work its ill luck from afar. To free her, we must first attract the creature itself, and it will only come to feed when she is in peril of her life. The safety you offer would only hinder the plan. It’s why I must remain behind as well.”
Ward gaped, “But, that’s madness. The Strangleweed Coast is crawling with grumlins and worse. The gulls alone would tear her to pieces – and they’re just seabirds. Besides, she’ll be in danger whether I am with her or not.”
Lady Zel said, “I have sent word to Rhiannon, and just yesterday she returned a message of her consent. But she expects only Nell and Peter. You must consider that the Widow is… not a kind woman. Any change to our agreement could further endanger her cooperation. Furthermore, she has no love for Queen Pharisij, to whom you are devoted.”
“The Widow cannot be trusted,” Ward argued. “Everyone knows that. But my queen has asked that I see Nell safely to Rhiannon’s keep, and I mean to do so. You will have to chain me otherwise.”
Lady Zel shook her head, annoyed. She cast a rancorous glare at the soldier, and then tisked. “So be it, you have your orders. Queen Pharisij and I will need to have a long chat about sticking to a plan when next we meet.”
The soldier saluted, his jaw clenched.
“Are we ready then?” Peter asked.
“Not quite,” Lady Zel said. “I have something for you Nell.” She produced a small satchel. “Miss Elder has packed this with as much as it will hold, and it’s bigger than it looks. It was made by Tomkin’s people, long ago. Did you ever wonder how he can live in the bole of a tree? The same kind of enchantment is used on this bag.”
Peter cut off Nell’s response with a surprised whistle, “Letting go of the Big Bag then? If you had handed that over sooner, I could have brought half your library back in one trip.”
“Peter, those books will be waiting for you when you get back.” Lady Zel and the hermit shared a long look, and fifty years of bitterness, hatred, friendship and love seemed to pass before their eyes.
“Goodbye Zel,” was all the man had for her. “I hope you’re right.” With a grunt, he hefted his pack and said to Ward, “We’ll eat on the road, I mean to be on the coast before dark.”
Ward readied his saddle as the hermit began marching back toward the woods. Lady Zel looked to Nell, “You’ll be careful, yes? When you leave these grounds, you leave my protection. That means the Malady can come upon you at any time. Of course you won’t see it, but you will feel its influence. Anticipate that things will go wrong, because the Malady will see that they do.”
“Is there nothing I can do to protect myself?” Nell felt as though the dusty road below the tower was leading directly to a dragon’s den.
“Yes, Nell, there is. Do you remember rule number three? Be aware of what you’re doing. Simply
paying attention
can give you power over the things in your control, and will limit careless accidents.”
“I will,” Nell said. On the steps before the tower she embraced Miss Elder and Mr. Lambert, who had also come to say farewell. Then she accepted a hug from the sorceress. The prospect of a voyage with Ward helped take the bite from her anger.
“If all goes well, you will be returned here in a week’s time. Good luck Nell,” Lady Zel told her.
In minutes Nell was sitting up on Willomena, Ward’s horse, laughing at one of the soldier’s jests. She didn’t look back as they entered the green shade of the forest. Riding in the company of the young man, it was easy to forget the reason why they set out.
Besides, it was a beautiful summer day, and Nell found an endless supply of Miss Elder’s famous raspberry cupcakes in the bag.
They traveled for hours, sometimes passing through sections of forest that had been burned several months ago. The trees were hearty, and a surprising number of them had leaves on their lower branches. Nell was relieved beyond words to find that so many had survived. Though the loss of the great oak still stirred bitterness in her, the strong life of the forest helped ease the pain. With Rawley capering along beside the hermit, they wound on and on through the trees, stopping when the sun was directly overhead to eat lunch.
Nell expected Peter to retreat to a book while they ate, but instead, he was as pleasant as the day he planted the golden acorn. The old man chatted with Ward about the sights they would see to the north, sharing his knowledge of the land. “We’ll be heading into grumlin territory, but they mostly keep to the sea and rivers. Men live in the area as well, so the beasts are wary. There are many fishing villages along the shore where we can find lodging. Two days down the coast we’ll start to see the Widow’s keep. Her castle sits up high on a cliff, looking out over the Strangleweed Sea.”
Ward nodded. “Our patrol ranges as far as that. I’ve seen her keep and the kelp sea both. The water is so choked with vines it looks like land stretching out as far as you can see. I would not want to sail it.”
The hermit agreed, “Indeed, strangleweed can move on its own and pull a person overboard as easy as that,” he snapped his fingers. “Entire vessels have been hauled under by it. It’s an evil thing.”
They continued talking about strangleweed and the Widow of the Sea as the shadows of day began to lengthen. The conversation and loping rhythm of the horse made Nell’s eyes heavy. She was just starting to doze in the saddle when something shot from the undergrowth. No one was ever able to say what manner of creature
it was, except that it was small and black, and moved with incredible speed. Willomena bucked as it darted through her legs.
Having had little experience on horseback, Nell was taken unawares when Willomena startled. For a desperate moment she scrambled to grab hold of the bridle, but it was too late. With a wicked crack, she landed on the rocky path. “My wrist,” she cried.
Ward rushed to her. Gently squeezing her arm and hand, he said, “I think you’ve sprained it. Not serious, but it’ll hurt for a few days.”
Some distance down the path, Peter reigned in Willomena. “Seems she wasn’t shoed properly. Look,” he pointed to the horse’s front hoof, and the horseshoe that dangled from it. “Must have snagged it when she reared.”
Ward’s shoulders slumped when he saw the dislodged metal. Once Nell had recovered from the shock of the fall, the soldier went to tend his horse. Gingerly he patted Willomena, trying to soothe her with his words before inspecting the shoe. The animal would not let him touch her hurt leg however, and it took Ward a long while to calm her. “I can’t re-shoe a horse out here in the weald,” the soldier finally said. “It hurts me to do this, but I have to let you go, Willomena. Find your way back to the castle.” He clucked his tongue and gave her a scratch on the head, trying to reassure himself of her safety. Slowly the horse limped into the trees, and Nell was forced to walk after that.
The carefree hours of riding and easy conversation faded with the day. Rawley licked Nell’s hurt wrist, trotting soberly by her side as they wandered north through the deeper parts of the forest. They left the path shortly after Nell had fallen, and were now at the mercy of Peter’s dubious memory and even more-dubious vision. The thick trees stretched on all around them, and the sun was reddening fast in the west.
“We should break for the night,” Ward offered. “No telling how far we still have to go, since you insisted on breaking with the road.”
“Have some faith,” the hermit countered. “There is a fishing village a little farther on – a very comfortable place on the coast. We’re almost there, I’m sure of it.”
Nell offered no opinion. In fact, she hadn’t spoken since she slipped from Willomena. The throbbing of her wrist consumed her. She clutched it to her chest as they pushed on through the forest.
Just as the sun disappeared, the group reached a wide river. The hermit slapped his hands together in satisfaction. “If I’m correct, this is the Lessing River. It’s called the ‘Gate to the North Coast,’ so it won’t be long to the village after we cross.” He sat on a rock, sliding off one of his boots. “It’s slow and shallow as far as rivers go. We should be over easily.”