“Do you think I chose this cave for its beauty, master Nuuk?” The witch chuckled causing the imp’s frown to soothe.
“So you can sense magic with ease?” I asked.
“Of course we can, how do you think we found you?” said the witch and they both started to laugh louder.
My unamused face made Nuuk temper his delighted feeling.
“Do not worry, master Lorian, it will all be easier once you become accustomed to magic. It takes lots of practise and time,” he tried to clarify.
If only it were that easy.
If he had spoken in a foreign tongue, I would have learned just as much.
I knew they weren’t laughing at me purposely yet I felt that my ignorance was the reason for such mockery.
“Young master, if you will, may I have a look at your leg?” Naghnatë changed the subject.
“Sure!” I replied.
Having been motionless for quite a long time, my leg did not appreciate the effort. Tendrils of warm pain originated from the swollen knee cap upwards and downwards. With difficulty I reached the bed, fearing to balance my entire weight on that side. Once there, I sat near her and lifted my leg with my hands onto the bed.
Another day was coming to its conclusion. The brightness of the cloudy sky dramatically dwindled as sunset was closing in and what filtered through the magic veil, that Nuuk had used as temporary door, was barely enough to avoid any unfortunate stumbling mishaps.
Eager to see what she would do, Nuuk joined on the other side of the bed, bringing with him a candle which he lit through magic.
“Dear heaven! What did you do to this leg again?” the witch cried out as she placed her palms on my knee.
“I stumbled upon a stool while trying to reach the door. You were sick and I didn’t know what to do, there was barely any light from the stove.” I was ashamed of my clumsiness.
She whistled her compunction while looking around my leg with further care.
“This is pure misfortune, master Lorian! You’ve hit it pretty hard! It’ll need at least a good week to mend. And as of how normal you’ll be able to walk after that I cannot tell!”
Damnation!
The knot of disappointment that had built up in my stomach found its way and stopped in my throat, instantly altering my expression. Even though I had had plenty of time to get accustomed to the possibility of being crippled again, I was not prepared to hear it, not from her and not so soon. I had entertained more the idea of being able to recover quickly rather than the idea that I would have to return as before. It felt like I was cursed with living brief moments of joy and happiness only to have them taken back by fate or some inexplicable force that worked against me. From the pettiest of things to those of the utmost significance I felt like I was being mocked. First my friendship and love, Elmira, whose fate I could not grasp, and now, after being briefly deluded of a brighter future, I was back to the starting point of struggling to walk.
Considering all the facts, it was hard to believe that fire was my element, or at very least it was a bit ironic.
“Why can’t you use magic? You said it yourself we need to hurry and, in my current state, we couldn’t even practice,” I permitted myself to ask.
“I stand by my own rules, Lorian! And I shall not repeat it again, I am not using magic for healing! Not ever again!” She crushed her fist on the hay mattress, appearing heavily disturbed by my renewed suggestion.
“Aren’t there any other, non-magical ways?” asked the imp.
“There could be. I’ve considered that myself, Nuuk.” She said.
“My special herbs,” she continued with reinvigorated drive. “Alas, I cannot shift in this condition. The plant I need is stored in some of my hiding places. I need time to recover before being able to travel, in that time you might recover on your own as well.”
“Unless,” Nuuk distracted the both of us, an intriguing smirk on his face, “you teach me how to shift to where the herbs are and I can go and get them. After all I fared pretty well, if I might say, in finding this cave in the middle of nowhere with only few directions; master Ghaeloden had entrusted me to be the guide for our journey.” His puffed out chest suggested renewed confidence.
“That’s why I gave you only a few directions! Iprorims should know how to find their way,” Naghnatë replied.
Please teach him and let him go, I pleaded in my mind.
“Well, I suppose there isn’t other choice here, is there? And you also know the place you’ll have to shift to. If we want to make haste for the citadel, then we must do with all we’ve got!” she allowed a small leer of happiness.
“Thaaaank youuu!” Nuuk’s amiable voice was pitched to its highest, surprising us with a burst of unexpected echoes of enthusiasm.
Naghnatë didn’t seem to share the imp’s reaction, and I thought it best not to give her reason to change her mind by appearing too excited.
“Thank you, Naghnatë, I really appreciate it!” I said calmly.
“You are welcome, Lorian!” she replied courteously.
Unluckily for the imp, that wasn’t the treatment he received. “Well, don’t just smile at me! Bring the other stool here and help me get out of this bed!”
The imp rushed to gratify her wishes, unchanged by her barked order.
Maybe it was because of the anticipation that I would soon receive a proper, herbal mending, but my leg already felt like it hurt less.
With eagerness I left the witch’s bed and sat myself comfortably on mine, making sure I had a clear vision of both of them; I was curious to witness another magical demonstration of unconceivable dexterity.
Yet as I focused my gaze and squinted my eyes, nothing happened. And that quiet nothing was taking a really long time. Naghnatë and Nuuk were holding each other’s hands. They did not move; they did not talk. They only sat with their eyes closed almost as if frozen in front of me.
I hoped for a while that something might happen, and only when I realised that I would not be included in whatever the witch was imparting to the imp, and neither they nor the dragon would care to consider me, I let myself fall on my tiny, hard bed with its thin hay-pillow.
“And that’s how it’s done, my dear!” The witch’s voice pierced my sleep and scattered off the sparkling Drakhahouls I was dreaming about, again.
I must’ve fallen asleep comforted by the warmth of my itchy-blanket and the pleasant sparkling sounds of the flames inside the stove. With both hands cupped on my face I tried to rub away the sleep and forced my mind to remember what I was doing before falling prey to the nap. My mind played tricks on me; I couldn’t recall anything except the shiny dragons of my sleep. But soon they faded completely from my mind and I remembered what Nuuk was supposed to learn from Naghnatë. My curiosity then woke me up more.
“How did it go? Are you able to shift now, Nuuk?” I brushed at my eyes as I uncovered my legs from the blanket.
“You would not believe how hard it is and how long it takes!” he replied, an air of fatigue about his face.
“It couldn’t be that hard if you’ve only been gone for a moment. Maybe…” and I tried to peek outside through the magical veil-door only to see it was pitch black, “… you must’ve been idle for half an hour, perhaps?” I continued still unsure of how late it was.
“You must’ve slept like a log,” Naghnatë’s voice came in a mocking tone, “and a very tired one, at that.”
“It’s almost morning, master Lorian. I’m knackered!” said the imp as he crashed on Naghnatë’s bed.
“That late?” I lifted myself up infuriated that I slept for so long and irked because I had missed dinner.
The witch saw my agitation and, even though she looked tired, tried to comfort me with a smile. “Not to worry, lad. Wielding magic takes its toll, and a proper rest is rejuvenating.”
“That and proper food!” I saw she was headed for where the dry food was stored inside the cave.
“Very true, very true indeed!” she repli
ed. “And speaking of which,” she gave me a quick look, “I have a surprise for you!”
From inside another magically unveiled, wooden box she took out a big bundle wrapped around in a clean, white cloth. After carefully unwrapping it she took outside an unnaturally big, green leaf of which colour and shape I had never seen before. It reminded me a little of the giant butterburs, only thicker, greener and wider.
“What is that?” I asked, craning my neck to see better.
“This, master Lorian,” she lifted with a wide smile the contents of the giant leaf, “this is a wild duck!”
How does she keep them so fresh? I was astonished and ravenous.
The fresh, fat duck had already been plucked and was glistening in the orange light of the fire. I couldn’t recall the last time I ate proper meat. My stomach gurgled in concord with my mind’s thoughts.
“A duck?” I was almost slobbering.
“Shhh! Don’t wake him up!” She gestured towards Nuuk. “We shouldn’t let him know about it. You know, he has his own ideas about eating other animals or hurting them. Honestly, I’ve had my fill of potatoes and leeks and I feel like I’m always starving. I think you and I both deserve this and we should both savour it, on a stake! The only vegetables I’m going to ingurgitate tonight are the spices on the sizzling skin of this fat bird!”
I hummed in accordance.
“Give me a hand and go grab some more snow, we’ll need a bit of cornmeal for this. I’ll mind the spit!”
I did not wonder where and how she got the meat. Nor did I wonder if the magic veil would allow me to pass but I found myself outside collecting the freshest snow at the mouth of the cave before darting back inside. As expected, Ghaeloden was not there.
When I returned, everything was ready and the delicious, crispy skin had already started to sputter vigorously on a spit inside the stove. It permeated the entire space with dozens wafts of greasy and seasoned aromas. The garlic bulbs that the witch had inserted underneath the skin, into small pockets made with the tip of her knife, was an extra touch of skilfulness that made my mouth drool before she even placed the meat on our plates.
Nuuk appeared to sleep like the dead and, apparently, his tongue was longer than we could have imagined, always rolling outside of his relaxed mouth and reaching under his chin. The funny expression his face pulled, made me and the witch laugh quietly while we consumed our delicious dinner.
We talked about nothing of any importance during the slow, reinvigorating meal and both pretended that everything was well; only some random spikes of pain in my knee reminded me what reality felt like.
Hours idled by before Nuuk finally woke up. The dawn was almost upon us and through the veiled door, a glimmer of pale blue light found its way inside the cave. The brightness of the clear, dying-night’s sky was promising another day of cold, though from what I could see, there were no signs of the irate blizzard anymore.
“What is this smell?” Nuuk’s first words came out faster than his eyes could open.
“That?” The witch seemed to have just woken up. “Just some smoked cheese Lorian and I had for dinner. A tiny piece slipped onto the fiery stove and caused quite a bit of smoke. Never mind it, you should eat something and go, it is very late!”
“I should, I am very hungry now.” The imp went to the water bucket and splashed his face with the cold liquid.
The slow, dejected walk towards the bucket was suddenly replaced by a brisk, reinvigorated pace as the water completely revived him.
“Good, good,” he started, stepping from one leg to the other, exercising his limbs in a circle and shaking his head as if getting ready for a chase. “I know where I’m going, I know what I need to take, the only thing, if you will,” and he stopped his jerkiness to turn his head towards the witch. “How am I going to do this again?”
The look on Naghnatë’s face vanquished any sign that she had ever been capable of smiling in her entire life, “Are you serious?” Naghnatë asked dismayed.
“Naahhhh! I was just joking!” replied the imp with a laugh, restarting to bounce around with augmented liveliness and laughter.
Still hopping around he continued talking, “Of course I do know, I’m an Iprorim. I have a big memory and remember everything! I first have to find my inner peace, stop listening to any other noise around me and then I must think about the place –”
“Nuuk!” The tone of Naghnatë’s echoing voice sent a cold shiver through my body.
He gulped an instant apology and dulled his enthusiasm, realising his mistake of having spoken out loud.
What was that about?
It appeared clear to me that the witch would not allow the imp to divulge what he had been taught. Clearly, she did not want me to learn how to shift, and that brought an end to my good mood.
Why wouldn’t she want me to learn it?
Even if I seriously disbelieved I was capable of such a deed, and actually didn’t consider for a moment to do magic again anytime soon, shifting seemed the most appealing thing that magic had been unveiled to me. Of course wielding fire, water, air and earth would be something else, if one was capable of doing it. Yet, that seemed lessened too compared to being able to travel incredibly fast, unseen, unheard and relatively unhurt.
“Either way,” Naghnatë’s voice turned softer, “you should go. If you manage to return in the next few hours there’s still time for you three to depart towards Arkhanthï this very day!”
“Then I shall be on my way! It will take but a blink.” The Iprorim winked at me with the same kind smile upon his face, and completely vanished from sight.
Too bad the witch did not make it in time to shout her last words, “Mind the wards! Ah, never mind,” she continued her phrase to me, “he’ll see them when he gets there.”
I did not know what she meant and I felt even less inclined to ask her for an explanation. I was disheartened to voice any of my questions and pretended I was tired. I told her I would lay on the bed until Nuuk was back.
A loud, clattering of metallic sounds burst in the air without warning, tearing the calmness that reigned at the break of dawn. If anyone had been around, they would have definitely turned towards the small and abandoned wooden cabin that lay hidden between the snowy slopes, barely noticeable in the low haze of the cloudless, morning sky. Luckily, there was nobody around. This high in the mountains nobody ventured, not this late in the year anyway, when snow covered everything around for miles, blocking all pathways and the cold made the smoothest breath of wind feel like a hard punch on one’s frozen face. A perfect hideout for one of Naghnatë’s stashes, the one Nuuk had previously visited and had now shifted to.
“What in heavens’ name?” The imp emerged from a huge pile of used pots, pans and cutlery of various sorts and sizes that were stuck to his body as if he were completely covered in honey.
Every move he made, the tools noisily followed. With much difficulty he hobbled his way through the dreadful mound, hurting his limbs as he tried to avoid another fall. Inevitably, he dropped to the floor again as the tip of his right foot got stuck inside a very tight sauce-pot. Another loud clattering exploded inside the small hut and another nameless curse issued from his mouth. Weary, he stood where he fell for a moment, slimy drops of grease dripping on his forehead from one of the messiest pans. He sighed but did not lose spirit and with one hand, after many attempts, he fared to free his boot from the pot. Fuming, he took it and chucked it away, causing it to rattle around, countless times between the wooden walls and floor. The effort had allowed him to free his hands for a brief moment, which he took advantage of to lift himself up.
Alas, as if alive, the pans returned to spin and slide to cover the only bit of him that was not still covered. He realised his undertaking was far from done and he completely stilled himself; the cluttering stopped too. Now his biggest problem was the smaller items filling every hole or pocket of his clothes; spoons, forks and blunt knives popped out of his boots as if they were cutlery containers
.
In one last attempt, he shook his body vigorously with all the energy he had left. The futile effort depleted his strengths completely. He knelt gasping for air through a very small gap between two pots and finally it came to him. He had forgotten that he was free to use magic.
He closed his eyes, mind resolute upon the proper spell, and when he opened them again, without a struggle, all the objects dropped to the floor, piling around him as dead leaves around a tree in autumn. He was finally free, though he looked like a wild beast; chunks of slimy, green grease dropping on the floor from all over his body. He was left with black chalk-smudges and red and purple bruises.
He hadn’t remembered the hut being that small, nor did he remember it being filled with pots.
“I shall have a word with Naghnatë about this!” he said as he collected the biggest and cleanest pot from the pile and kicked nervously at another, before going outside to fill it with snow.
He lit a magical fire inside the stove and made himself some warm water which he’d use to clean himself and wash his greasy clothes. Though, when he took off his ragged shirt, he felt the presence of his long forgotten, suppressed-wings. With a stretched arm alongside his neck, he gently passed his fingers over them, caressing the wasting muscles and dry skin. He felt the soreness of his bones after being bound in the same position for so long. When his fingers passed over the thin, entwined, magic-thread, he shuddered and withdrew them instantly, burnt by its power.
“That cursed man!” he hissed while blowing air onto his red-marked forefinger.
He was not convinced anymore of the possibility that some good was buried deep inside the old wizard and he wanted now, more than ever before, to free himself from his grasp. Spending time away from his influence had allowed his mind to remember the good moments when he had been a free imp and had friends and, even though it couldn’t be as it had been in the past, he felt that maybe there was still a chance for him to make new friends and live a normal life without fear, without a master.
He knew that only the wizard could undo the spell to release his wings and that was not going to happen willingly, not anymore since clearly too much time had passed since his and the dragon’s expected return. He’d have to take whatever was his from the wizard.
Winterhorn (Tokens Of Benevolence Book 1) Page 28