Thomelisa Taken, Pt IX

“Tarrow?  But that was… that was thirty years ago…”  My mind raced back across the decades, pulling up faces I’d long since chosen to forget.  A lad and a lass, both well older than myself.  Names remained just out of reach, however.

“There were three of us,” I said slowly.

“Well obviously I’m not you,” she snorted.  “Nor am I likely to be Gremmin, since he died before Tarrow.”

“I had forgotten that,” I murmured, visions of a gap-toothed smile floating in my brain.  Poor Gremmin- the lad hadn’t been careful enough, always valuing speed over precision, and while that might have served him well with small cantrips and tricks, it had gotten him killed when he tried more advanced spells.  I had tried, time and again, to warn him, but he was nearly twenty, and didn’t think a twelve-year-old could teach him anything.  And then I remembered the name attached to that other, slightly younger face, the one with eyes green as moss, tilted up at the corners.

“Ofrse?” I searched her eyes.  They were not the same.  But how could they be, as a toad?

“Yes,” she said softly.  “I told you- if I’d known it was you… but how could I?  Everyone thinks you’re dead.”

“That’s as I wish it to be,” I said.  “I was retired- and you know they won’t let you retire if you’re still alive.”

“Why do you think I’m in this guise?” she asked, dryly.  “Not because it is convenient, I assure you.”

“But that magic you started to cast-”

“Magic works differently in animal form,” she said.  “Which the Elves didn’t bother to explain ahead of time.  Foolish me, I thought to ask if I’d retain my magic, and was reassured when they told me yes.  I never thought I’d have to spend years relearning how to use it in the form they chose for me.”

I shook my head, more to stop myself from becoming engrossed in the possibilities than anything else.

“What happened to your son, then?  Why is he cursed?  And what does that have to do with my daughter?”

“He is cursed because he is stupid, and that is all I’ll say on that topic,” she said dryly.  “But the only way for him to break the curse was for him to marry.  Specifically the curse was to break upon his first kiss from his new bride.”

Thomelisa Taken, Pt VIII

Escaped.

At that word a great wave of relief flooded through me, although I allowed none of it to show on my face.  All I’d have to do would be to go home, and await my daughter’s return.  Perhaps a scrying spell to see where grass was moving unnaturally- since it wouldn’t show me Elisa herself ( NOTE TO SELF: SCRY FOR WALNUT BED EARLIER!  SEE ONLY DARKNESS SINCE IT’S UNDERGROUND)- so that I could meet her along the way.

But first to deal with these two.

“Why did you take her?”  I asked.  I needed to understand if this went any further, what sort of threats might still be out there, waiting to collect my daughter as their own.

“I already told you,” Mother Toad said impatiently.  “My son is under a curse!”

I glanced down at the pallid creature in my hand.  He had gone limp again, eyes half-closed and a look of pure misery on his amphibious face.

“You said he’s not speaking because he’s curse.  What does that have to do with my daughter?”  I would not speak her name to these two- although… “And how did you know my name?”

Mother Toad shifted anxiously again.  “I really would feel much better if you’d take theknife away from him,” she said.  “Now that you know your own child isn’t in immediate danger.”

“There’s no guarantee she’s not,” I snapped.  “It’s a long way back to the cabin on tiny legs.”

“Still.  It would help me think more clearly if I wasn’t so worried about my boy.”

I narrowed my eyes, but gave a small nod, and withdrew the knife.  I didn’t release my hostage, however; I could destroy him with a word, if she tried to cast the spell she’d been readying.  A small, detached part of my brain wondered about toad magic, and how it might be different from Witch of Elf magic, but I shoved it down: now was decidedly not the time for idle curiosity.

Toad Mother’s aura dimmed further still, and she gave a great sigh of relief.

“Answer my questions,” I demanded, lest she get too comfortable.

“If I’d known it was you, Skovy, I’d never have taken the girl,” she shook her head.  “I remember the potential you showed, all those years ago.  But I didn’t know- I swear I didn’t know, not until I saw your face.”

I tilted my head sideways, mind racing.  “Do I know you?”

Mother Toad gave a snort.  “We studied together for three years.”

That brought my mind to a screeching halt.  Surely I’d remember if I’d spent time studying with a toad.  Wouldn’t I?  But Mother Toad was continuing on as though this was something I should know already.

“Back when Old Tarrow was still teaching?  We were his final students.”

Thomelisa Taken, Pt VII

I took off my pack and opened one of the front pockets: I had left what I needed there, certain I’d be using it before the day was out.  “It” was a brass bell, carefully muffled and wrapped in a bit of flannel.  The flannel held a spell of its own (for warmth) so I carefully folded and replaced it before turning my full attention on the bell.  It was already charged (with the blood of an entire chicken; strong enough to summon things from up to a quarter mile away) and held an incomplete summoning spell- incomplete because it didn’t yet have a target.  I’d have to use more of my own blood to finish the spell off, but that was no matter- I’d drain myself dry to rescue my daughter.

It didn’t require even as much blood as I’d used for the crystal, however; a simple prick of the thumb was more than sufficient to seal things as I fixed the concept of walnut in the bell.  There was no time to make it more complex than that, and as I’ve said- walnut was more than rare enough for these parts.

Spell finished, I took a deep breath, and rang the bell.  It sang out, a clear and surprisingly loud clang that reverberated through the sun-warmed marsh.  For a moment, nothing happened, and my ears filled with the high whine of insects and the low thrum of my own heart.  And then, not fifteen feet upstream from me, the mud gave a great heave.

Half a breath later, something shot up out of the mud and flew towards me.  I held out my hand automatically to catch it: Thomelisa’s bed, much the worse for wear, and decidedly empty.  But that didn’t matter: I was already running to the gaping wound in the earth, before it could refill itself.

I was in time: there on the edge of the crater, sprawled on its warty back, was a large and decidedly dazed-looking toad.  I snatched it up from the mud, fighting the urge to crush it in my fury.

“Got you, you piece of excrement!  Where is my daughter?”

The toad’s eyes bulged in an ironically frog-like manner, but it said nothing.  I growled at it.

“Tell me.  Now.”

“Release my son, Skovy!”  The voice rang out, shrill and imperious, as full of rage as my own.  The use of my name in this place startled me, but not enough to drop my quarry.  I scanned the mud around me, trying to find the speaker.

“Not until I have my daughter back,” I said, and pulled a dagger out of my boot.  I didn’t need magic to deal with such as these.

“We don’t have her!” the voice said, “And if you don’t drop that knife, you’re going to regret it.”

There.  I had her now, squatting low in the tall grass, and glowing with a menacing light.  Not a familiar, then.  But I did not drop  my knife.

“I can play word games, too, you cold blooded bitch,” I spat.  “You may not have her, but you had her.  Which means you’d better come up with a very good reason for me not eviscerating your son right here and now.  I don’t know what sort of spell you’re preparing over there, but it will be interesting to see if you can get it to take effect faster than I can flick my wrist, don’t you think?”  I twisted the knife just enough to catch the light, and was satisfied to see her aura settle down a bit.

“You won’t kill him,” she said sternly.  “Because if you kill him, I’ll never tell you where she went.”

“Don’t be so sure about that,” I replied.  “I can be extremely convincing.  And that’s before I use a truth spell.”

She paled at that, if a toad can be said to pale, and shifted from side to side.

“Put him down.  Let us talk.”

“I don’t think I will.  The longer we talk, the further away she gets, I assume.  So you’d better start telling me who you gave her to.”

“Croak!  Croak!  Croak!” said the toad in my hand, struggling a bit in what I finally realized was him shaking his head.

“What’s wrong with him?”  I asked, tightening my hold.  “Why doesn’t he speak.”

“Because he’s under a curse, obviously!”  the mother toad spat.  “He’s trying to tell you we didn’t give her to anyone; she escaped!”

Thomelisa Taken, Pt VI

I didn’t have any tracking spells prepared, more fool I, but I didn’t think I’d need one to find the toads that had stolen Elisa, not with the careless way they’d left tracks.  It was entirely possible they didn’t realize who- or more importantly what- I was, or what I could do.  More fool them.  And if I wasn’t able to track them the mundane way, I could always take the time to craft a spell.  I would hate every moment spent doing it, but I could do it.

Even with a spell, however, tracking Elisa directly was out of the question; something about her nature caused magic to roll off her like water from oiled leather, perhaps because she was a magical creature, herself.  Don’t think I hadn’t spent the first year of her life trying to charm her for protection (babies will hit their heads on things)- it simply didn’t work, which is why I’d been so adamant, as she grew, that she learn to be vigilant and able to defend herself.  But it’s hard to be vigilant- or defensive- when you’re sleeping.

I slung the index bag crosswise between my breasts, then filled a more rugged pack with what I deemed the essentials.  I briefly debated summoning an animal to carry me, but in the end rejected it; I would be working on such a small scale that anything large enough to carry me or my things might accidentally destroy the track.  I’d go by food, and with any luck I wouldn’t be gone long enough to need more supplies than I could carry alone, anyway.  Once I had Thomelisa safe in my pocket again, I could summon a beast to carry us home.  So decided, I stuffed the spelled bridle in the top of the pack, extinguished the light in my brow (twenty minutes left), placed my hand on the corner of a shelf, and whispered the world that would take me back to my sitting room.  It may seem extravagant to use magic to travel less than a hundred yards, but the oak roots had closed as soon as I’d passed them: magic was the only way back out into the light.  One more layer of security; finding my arsenal didn’t mean you’d get to leave with any of it.

I changed my nightdress for a garment better suited to rough travel, settled the bag and pack once more, then went back out ot the garden to where the toad tracks disappeared into the herbs.

And then I turned right back around, and re-entered my cottage.  On the off-chance that Elisa rescued herself before I could (and I held out hope she just might- my girl was no wilting lily), I must let her know where I had gone, and how to contact me.  Her inability to use any of my spells frustrated me for a moment- if only we had a neighbor that might check in on the cottage, but I’d deliberately situated us off the common way.  I dug my nails into the palms of my hands, eyes running over my house, trying to think up a way around the limitations- and then I spied the windowsill full of crystals, and I had it.

The crystals, as I’ve said, were not charged.  But that didn’t mean they couldn’t be charged.  In fact I’d used them for many, many spells in their time, and as a result they held charges quite easily now.  It would be a simple matter to charge one with my own energy, then spell it to return the excess energy to me if the crystal were to break.

Quickly I jotted out a quick note to Elisa, telling her to push the crystal onto the floor below.  The I grabbed a knife and slashed open my palm, and, using my freely-bleeding hand, I picked up the most delicate of the crystals, and began to craft.  The crystal absorbed the energy- and the spell- easily, and once it was done I used it to weigh down the paper in the hollow of the shell where Elisa’s bed had lain.  If she returned, she would find it, and she would break it, and I would know to return, myself.  I only hoped no other creature would upend it in the meantime.

I grabbed a handkerchief I’d spelled to heal minor wounds, and used it to wipe my hand clean.  By the time I was done, the cut was healed and the fabric mundane again.  I tucked it into my pocket; I must remember to respell it when I got the chance.

Back in the garden, I sent a quick prayer to the triple-faced goddess, who looks after those smart enough to look after themselves, then got down on my hands and knees, and began to follow the indistinct smears and smudges.  It was slow, frustrating work, as I had expected it to be, and my joints were beginning to ache as I approached the outskirts of what I considered my garden:  a marshy, swampy stretch of land that eventually turned itself into a wide, pleasant stream.

Unfortunately, the silty water oozing up from the earth soon swallowed up the tracks completely.  I sat back on my heels, black to my thighs and elbows with brackish mud, and considered my next move.  Either the toads had stopped here, or they had moved forward, in the stream.  It seemed perfectly reasonable to assume that they lived in this area: toads often lived in marshes, and the larger tracks were already showing signs of strains by the time they disappeared, indicating that perhaps the heavy load of the bed was taking its toll.  I would try here first.

My first thought- to use a spell to draw out all the living inhabitants of the surrounding area, I dismissed immediately; this area would be too rich with life, overflowing with ordinary toads- not to mention insects, birds, snakes, and fish- and in the confusion my quarry might slip away once more.

Then I had it.  One thing there would not be a lot of, in this place, were walnut shells.  After Elisa had outgrown her original cradle, I’d carved her a new bed, using several shells instead of one.  That bed was somewhere in this swamp, and since no self-respecting walnut would take root in such poorly-drained soil, I didn’t have to worry about overwhelming myself with options.  If my daughter was still in her bed, so much the better- but I somehow doubted it.

Thomelisa Witch Magic

I spent some time today hammering out how the witch magic works in this world- here's what I came up with (again, using this for NaNo, so zero editing- woo!):

Witches need life-force to power their spells, either their own, or that of others.  The spells don’t necessarily kill the source of power, but the more energy you take, the stronger the spell, so the most powerful witches are the ones with no compunction about killing.  The larger the animal, the more life-force, so a hare charges more than a mouse, and a human charges a hell of a lot more than a hare.  For this reason witches aren’t particularly interested in using babies or children for their magic: they can get the same amount of power with a lot less hassle, from a sheep or goat.  They can also take life force from plants, but trees have their own magic, and trying to take from them without permission rarely ends well for the witch in question.

Spells must be prepared (and charged) ahead of time.  There must be a vessel for the spell, be it something as simple as a piece of paper, or something as complex as a cuckoo clock.  The shape of the vessel interacts with the intention of the spell, so it makes more sense to try to align the two.  You can put a cutting spell in a rock and it will work (if you’re powerful enough), but it will work a hell of a lot better if you put it in a knife.

You can use a living thing to hold a spell, as well, but it’s tricky and runs the chance of being accidently activated by the vessel itself.

Spells can be transferred from one vessel to another- if you have the proper spell to do so.  Vessels can theoretically hold more than one spell, but it takes a powerful, careful witch to make that work.  Most don’t bother, because errors tend to be fatal.  Witches with exceptional control can spell different parts of the same vessel- for example, each corner of a dice might hold a different spell.  That’s some seriously advanced stuff, tho’.

Generally speaking, spells are one-and-done, so once you use the vessel, they’re drained and are left a nearly-ordinary object.  I say nearly-ordinary because they remember that they were spelled, and it is easier to spell them again in the future- especially if you use the same spell.  For this reason witches are reluctant to leave their vessels behind- but they will if forced.  Some witches make it a habit to hunt down and collect the forgotten remnants of other witches, a hobby that is made easier by the fact that once-spelled artifacts have a particular ghost-glow to those actively seeking them, almost as though they want to be found and put back to work once more.

Thomelisa Taken, Pt V

The oak tree in question lived in what might be considered my front yard.  Far enough away that his roots weren’t going to upset my foundation, but close enough that it was no great effort for me to get to him.  I approached him with the respect you should approach any creature that has seen more than one century, and slid my little gnarled key into the unassuming knothole at the level of my hip.

Three heartbeats later, the tree gave a bit of a shiver, and what had appeared to be one solid root split in half to reveal it had been two roots closely intertwined.  As they untwisted themselves and moved to either side, they revealed a hole leading deep into the earth.

Well, sort of into the earth.  More of a pocket-dimension, really, because anyone who dug around the oak tree wasn’t going to find anything but dirt, unless the oak tree had given them access, which he was not likely to do: he and I went way back.

There were hand- and footholds carved into the soil, and I used them to slowly descend into the black.  I didn’t need light: there was only one way to go, and I knew where it led.  Once my feet hit the bottom, I turned to my left and started walking.  Thirty-three paces in the pitch darkness, the smell of earth and vegetable rot filling my lungs, and then I stopped.  I knew where the handle should be- level with my shoulder- but it had been a very long time, and I did fumble a bit until my hand closed over the cool silver.  I pulled it down and towards me, and the door slid open.

There was no light here, either, but one of the spells I always keep prepared is for light- a good half-hour of it stored in the space between my brows, and another twenty-five minutes stored (in five minute increments) in each of my fingertips.  I activated the light on my forehead and scanned the room around me.  How much of this would I need?  Very little of it, if things went well.  All of it, if they did not.  I sighed and turned to my right, where there hung a cross-body bag large enough for a fat book.  It did, indeed, hold a fat book; the inventory of this room.  With it I could summon any piece of equipment to my side, so long as I had my own blood to activate it with.  But it wasn’t instantaneous: if there was something I thought I’d need in a hurry, I’d still have to carry it.  Most of the already-charged items, weapons especially.  But spell components, for the most part, could stay here.  And then, of course, there was the problem that once I’d summoned an item, I couldn’t send it back.  It was a one-way spell, because I had decided it wasn’t worth the cost to charge it both ways- after all, most spelled items, once used, became nothing more than the shell that had held them.

Thomelisa Taken, Pt IV

Closer observation revealed no marks on the windowsill, so I levered myself up slowly and carefully, so I could look down into the garden below, for prints in the earth.  Nothing visible to my naked eye.  I would need aid.

I climbed back down out of the window and into the kitchen, fighting the urge to run.  Yes, time was slipping away from me, but I needed to be careful, controlled.  I could not afford even one mistake.  Instead I walked carefully to a different windowsill, on the other side of my house.  There I had a collection of pretty crystals- none currently charged with energy, but all pleasing to the eye, and many good for throwing rainbows on walls and floors.  They had amused Elisa.

One of them was a sphere, clear as a drop of water, large enough that I could not close my hand around it.  I polished it carefully on my apron as I walked to the door and then, kneeling carefully, I began to examine the soil along the edge of the house.

It was painstaking, methodical work, to ensure I wasn’t going to disturb anything before I inched forward.  I didn’t not think I was going to find anything before getting to the window, but I could not take the chance.  Every inch must be examined.

I saw evidence of Elisa crossing and recrossing herself, but the marks were old.  Finally, I came to the earth beneath the window, and found something else.

Toad tracks are not something that normally attracts one’s attention.  For one thing, they’re so haphazard that it’s difficult to identify them as tracks in the first place.  For another thing, your average person is not going to care what toads get up to, especially in a garden, where a toad might naturally be expected to dwell, and where he has every right to be.  I knew there were several that did, in fact, call my garden home.

But.

But toads can be used as familiars, and thus witches make it their business to be able to recognize toad-sign, and recognize it, I did.

There was toad-sign leading right up to the wall of my house, as a matter of fact.  Right under the window that Elisa used as her primary exit and entrance.  I narrowed my eyes and examined the wall.  Yes- I could see fresh little scars here and there, as though something had used tiny claws to drag itself upwards.  Perhaps even two somethings.  I glanced back down at the tracks again.  Yes, definitely two toads, because one was markedly larger than the other.  But that made no sense- a witch only ever had one familiar at a time.  And where were the retreating tracks?  I cast my eyes further afield- there.  They had not climbed down, but rather leaped.  The tracks of the larger toad were more defined here; heavier.  With the weight of my child.

I bared my teeth at the trail in a feral smile.  “Sloppy,” I hissed, then stood and returned to the house.  I would find them, and I would flay them alive- then feed each skin to the other.

But not until I knew who had sent them, and why.

I approached my bed, lay down on my stomach, and reached beneath it to the plank I knew had two notches in it.  Fingertips in the notches, I raised it just enough to slip it over the board next to it, then slid my fingers into the resulting gap and moved it all the way out of the way.  Once the narrow space below was revealed, I pulled my hand back out, spat into my palm, and put it back beneath the floorboards until I could close it around the gnarled wooden shape resting on the ground.

The spell I’d laid on the thing, all those years ago, stabbed into my hands like a spark of lightning, and began to crawl up my veins- but it recognized my essence, and withdrew between one breath and the next.  Which was good, because if the spell had reached my heart, it would have stopped it, sending me into an enchanted slumber until someone came along to either release me, or kill me.  My personal plan had always been to kill whoever might have been meddling about in my secrets.

Well, perhaps after extracting a bit of information, first.

I pulled the thing out.

It was not large- perhaps the size of a goose egg- and it was not shaped like anything in particular.  But it was a key.  My key, taken from the heart of a willing oak tree.  And it would unlock the past I’d left behind.

Because while yes, I was retired, I was also somewhat set in my ways.  And those ways included being prepared for any eventuality, including the eventuality that I might have to come out of retirement.  And if I had to come out of retirement, I wasn’t going to want to have to rebuild my arsenal from scratch, now was I?