“I am going to skin you alive, you horrible beast!” Esme’s voice rang out just before she entered the too small room. “You are a dead moose walking!”
Oscar turned his head without removing Caitlin and snorted irritably at the old woman. “I don’t care what was happening. You ruined my house! Do you know how long it’s going to take me to fix this? I should have drowned you when I had the chance.”
“Stop! Just stop,” Caitlin said. Her pulse had returned as close to normal as it was going to after her horrible nightmare. “He was just trying to save me from my own demons, imaginary as they may be.”
“Well then, stupid girl, you can fix this awful mess,” Esme said, indicating the shards of wood that littered the ground. Her eyes made their way back to Caitlin, and her body stiffened. “Show me your arms, girl.”
Caitlin pulled herself away from the warmth of her rescuer and held her arms out. There, on her right forearm, a long gash still dripped blood. Tiny black lines crawled up from the injury toward her shoulder. She stared at her arm, completely perplexed. She could remember Arthur’s weight on top of her and the bite of the enchanted blade as it parted her flesh. The pain had pulled her away from the cursed nightmare.
“It… it was a dream,” she said, tasting the lie.
“Well, unless you have a habit of mutilating yourself in your sleep, I would have to guess this is some very dark magic,” Esme said, her tone slightly less aggressive. “Tell me about it.”
Caitlin sat back on the bed and went over the vision she had. She explained in detail the hallway she had walked down, finding the man she had thought was her husband, and the realization he was someone else in disguise. “How did you know?” Esme asked.
“I saw him. My husband. I saw him in a mirror as Arthur asked me about our daughter,” Caitlin said, remembering the wild-eyed fear in his face. “He was standing in our bedroom at home, and he just looked… right. I can’t explain it really. I just knew he was my husband and the man in the room with me was a liar.”
“Who’s Arthur?” the old woman spoke gently. It was a tone Caitlin had not heard from her yet.
Caitlin tried to find the right words to convey the evil man, but she was at a loss. How was she supposed to explain the man who broke her? She couldn’t find the words adequate enough to describe the psychopath to this woman she barely knew. And, she admitted to herself, she didn’t want Esme to think less of her. Caitlin didn’t know why Esme’s opinion mattered, but it really did. She couldn’t tell her how stupid she’d been and how weak she was. Arthur destroyed her as a person, and because of that, she failed her family every single day.
“He was a man I knew a long time ago,” Caitlin said. “He hurt me.” It was all she could say before the tears broke past her lashes. She wiped at them in embarrassment. Esme put a hand on her shoulder, and Caitlin was too upset to pull away.
“We’ll come back to that another time,” Esme said, stroking Caitlin’s shoulder softly. “Tell me the rest.”
Caitlin finished her story, skimming over the significance of the lavender room. “I recognized the knife,” she said. She hadn’t realized it until she was telling the story. “The man, Arthur, had a box of several knives that looked the same, with red handles and inscriptions on the blades. Of course, they weren’t glowing when I saw them, but I’ll never forget those knives.”
“Oh dear,” Esme said, “that is not good. Not good at all.”
“He kept asking me about my daughter,” said Caitlin. “I think he wants her for something. You were able to show me where she was before. Can he find her the same way you did?” Her voice was shaky.
“He can’t find her the way I did,” the old witch said. “My spell required a familial connection, which he doesn’t have. Now, before you go worrying about the blood he stole, you must realize it was a noncorporeal connection he accessed. Even though you’re bleeding now, there’s no way he could access your personal essence without you being physically in the same room as him. He was, however, able to tap into your power. And that mark,” she pointed at the cut on Caitlin’s arm, “can lead him to you anywhere you go.”
Caitlin looked at her arm like it was a bomb. “How do I stop it? I have to find my daughter, but I won’t lead that bastard straight to her. You have to help me. Did you use my personal essence to locate her in the fire? I won’t be mad if you did. I just need to know.”
“No, I didn’t steal your essence, and you would be an idiot not to be enraged if I did. I know you’re dull, but I don’t think you’re an idiot. I used an article that had been in contact with you to locate something precious to you. It wouldn’t have worked if you didn’t desire the end result,” Esme said. “I’m familiar with the blades you spoke of, unfortunately. It was my understanding those weapons had been destroyed a very long time ago. I will definitely be having words with my bull-headed nephew when he deems it necessary to make an appearance.” Esme looked away momentarily, and Oscar lowered his ears. The moose had been lying on the floor with his head propped between the two women on the bed. His antlers encircled them without touching either one.
“As for stopping it,” Esme continued, “there’s only one sure way to sever the connection, and you are most certainly not going to like it.” She looked thoughtfully at Caitlin’s arm. Caitlin had a sinking feeling she knew what Esme was going to say.
“I can’t,” Caitlin said. How could she save her child without her arm?
“I had a feeling that would be your reaction,” Esme responded. “Very well. I have something else I can do, but it’s very painful and not fool-proof. We need to act now. I’m sure he’s already locked onto our location, and I don’t plan on being here when he sends his minions to find us.”
“Okay,” Caitlin said, preparing herself mentally for agony. “Let’s do it.”
Esme pushed Oscar’s head off the bed and grabbed Caitlin’s arm. She led her to the large table in the dining room and had her sit before heading to the kitchen to collect herbs and a large bowl. She brought the items back and mixed them slowly. As the contents blended, she sang incomprehensible words in a nasally tone.
A tingle rose through Caitlin the moment Esme lit the contents on fire with a glance. Her arm grew hot and then burned uncontrollably. She bit her tongue to keep from crying out as tears streaked down her cheeks. The edges of her vision blurred, and she was sure she was going to pass out when the pain vanished. Caitlin looked down at her arm. It was pink and soft, no hint of a wound remained.
She smiled at Esme, who had a slightly unfocused look in her eyes. “You did it,” she said, relief washing over her. “It wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought it would be.”
“Oh, just you wait,” the old witch said, walking out to the kitchen. She grabbed a large glowing cleaver, tied a strip of leather around her arm using her teeth, and with one powerful blow, chopped off her own right arm just below the elbow.
Caitlin shrieked in surprise and ran to the old woman, who’d fallen to the floor. Bright red liquid squirted from her stump, showering the cupboards in front of her. “What do I do? What do I do?” Caitlin shouted, crouching down in front of Esme. The old witch didn’t respond. Her eyes rolled back into her head, and she was completely limp.
Caitlin grabbed a rag hanging next to the large pot and wrapped it around the stump. Behind her Oscar made frantic bleating sounds. She tried to block him out as she went over the basic first aid Henry had taught her. Unfortunately, he’d never given her lessons on at-home amputations.
Unconsciously, she hummed as she held pressure on the wound. Ever so slowly the force of the blood lessened until it was a mere trickle. Caitlin didn’t know if that was good or bad. She held her pointer and middle fingers up to Esme’s throat and sighed when she found a pulse. It was light against her fingers but still rhythmic.
“Oscar,” she said to the moose, without taking her eyes off the frail woman in front of her, “can you find me more towels?”
She still had no idea wha
t to do, but the piece of cloth she had been holding against Esme’s arm was completely soaked through. The moose snorted and a few moments later he stood beside her with a dish towel hanging from his mouth. She used her free hand to take it from him and steeled herself for the transfer. Counting silently down from five, Caitlin pulled the blood-soaked rag away and moved to put the new one in place. To her astonishment the stump had fresh, pink flesh surrounding it. There was no sign her forearm had been violently removed minutes earlier.
Caitlin’s heartbeat slowed at the realization she wouldn’t have to learn how to cauterize a wound on the fly. She stood up and dipped a towel into a basin of water to clean the blood from Esme. As she gently wiped the woman down Esme’s eyes fluttered open. She laid silently, staring at Caitlin for a few moments and then said, “I appreciate you not letting me die. I was really concerned I would leave this world without taking that big oaf with me.” She pointed at Oscar, who snorted through his nostrils and bent over to lick her cheek. “Yuck! Stop being so sentimental, you old fool.”
Caitlin smiled at the old woman, feeling genuine relief. “I didn’t do much,” she said, continuing to clean Esme. “You must’ve stitched yourself up with your magic.”
“That certainly wasn’t my magic,” Esme responded, sitting up and taking the towel from Caitlin. “No, that was all you. You have serious power running through your veins. It’s no wonder this evil magician is looking for you. If I were looking for a power boost, you’d be the perfect source.”
“That can’t be possible,” Caitlin responded. “I’m not from here. Where I live there isn’t any magic.” As she spoke, the memory of the flashing bolt flowing from her hand came to the forefront.
“Where you live and where I live aren’t nearly as far apart as you think,” said Esme, pushing herself to her feet with her good arm.
“What do you—"
“Shhhh.” Esme put a finger in front of Caitlin’s lips and cocked her head. Caitlin silenced and listened. At first, she didn’t hear anything, but as she focused her attention a light humming sound filtered through the kitchen window. “We have to go now,” Esme said. She waved an arm and her clothing transformed. The bloody fabrics disappeared and in their place was a simple high-waisted tan skirt and a flowing turquoise top. Around her shoulders a black traveler’s cloak rested. Caitlin looked down at her own clothes, fearing the beautiful tunic had been ruined, but not a single drop of blood was visible.
The old woman hobbled to the front door with the moose following close behind. He turned to glance back at Caitlin, moved his head to indicate the door, and then passed through the opening. She walked out after the pair and noticed the humming sound becoming more prominent. She looked around the forest but was unable to see where the sound was coming from. She decided it was probably best that she didn’t figure it out. As she reached the other two, Oscar laid his whole body on the ground. Esme steadied herself with one of his antlers and climbed onto his back. “Well, come on then, child. He will wait for you until the hordes arrive, but I’d prefer that does not happen.”
Caitlin glanced around unsure and then seated herself behind Esme. Oscar got to his feet, and Caitlin had to hold on tightly not to tip off his side. He turned to face the cottage once more. Esme sang again in the nasally voice, and the structure burst into flames. Caitlin was taken aback by the intensity of it. The heat rolled over them in waves making it difficult to take in a full breath. Oscar turned and took off in the opposite direction at a quick pace.
*
Caitlin wasn’t sure how long they had ridden for. She had a million questions floating around in her mind, but all her concentration was focused on not falling off of the moose. She had ridden horses when she was younger. It was one of the perks of working on a horse farm in high school, but it was nothing like riding a moose. There was absolutely no grace in the steps the large creature took. He bounced and jostled and did everything short of bucking. Only her fear of the unknown humming sound kept her on the animal’s back.
The sun was riding high in the sky when Esme gave a silent command to stop. Oscar was panting hard as he halted. Caitlin took the opportunity to slide off his back and held a hand up to the old woman to help her down. Unburdened of his load, Oscar ambled over to a small stream and sunk his head down to take a drink. Caitlin eyed the water with uncertainty, remembering her unfortunate capture at the last body of water she had come across, but as soon as Esme knelt to drink, Caitlin was right beside her. She cupped the icy liquid in her hands and took several large mouthfuls, relishing the cool liquid that eased the burning in her throat. When she had satiated her thirst, she took another handful and dumped it on her forehead.
The humming sound had dissipated quite a while earlier, but the old woman did not ease up on the ride for some time. Caitlin’s stomach cramped with hunger, but she pushed the discomfort aside. She had more important things to worry about than food. “Are you taking me to my daughter?” she asked Esme, noticing how worn the old woman really was. They had been moving toward the mountains for some time, and the trail had been steadily elevating them for the last little bit.
“The troggles live a fair distance from my home,” Esme responded, leaning back against a large boulder. “I promise I’ll take you there, but there’s a stop we must make first. It’s been a long time since I’ve ventured from my woods, and there will be many dangers between here and there. The path we’re currently on will take us closer to Helenab’s fortress than I’m comfortable with. The old enchantress and her followers were banished from this land decades ago, but the resurgence of her blades doesn’t bode well for us.”
Fatigue and despair weighted Caitlin’s bones. She sat next to the old woman, too tired to be angry. “I have to get to Elise. She’s just a kid. How is she supposed to make it in this cursed place without me? I can barely make it myself.”
“She comes from a powerful stock,” said Esme. “Don’t underestimate her. The troggle she’s with will protect her. If she stays put, she should be just fine.”
“How do you know? That beast looked terrifying.”
“I recognized him,” said Esme. She was looking down at her stump with interest. “I knew his father. He was an honorable creature, and I know his son’s the same. The troggles are not evil by nature, and when they claim someone as their own, they protect them. Your daughter would not have been sleeping peacefully in his home if he hadn’t claimed her.”
“What does that mean? Claiming her?” The wording put Caitlin on edge.
“Nothing sordid or nefarious, I assure you,” said Esme. “Just trust me, your child will be safe in his care for now. As soon as we make it to Maken, I’ll send a message to the troggle to let him know we’re on our way. We need to pack properly for travel, seeing as I no longer have my belongings to pack. Even if I did, the floreans surely have the area surrounded. I hope the Boolah makes a meal out of that lot.”
Caitlin thought about everything Esme sacrificed for her. She couldn’t imagine chopping her own arm off or burning her home down without a second thought. She had to trust that what the old woman said was true. She had no other options. Caitlin got to her knees and moved herself so she was kneeling in front of Esme. The old woman lifted her gray eyes and stared into Caitlin’s. Her silver-white hair tumbled haphazardly down her shoulders, and the lines on her face were etched in sorrow.
“Thank you,” Caitlin said, grabbing the woman’s left hand between her own. “I would have died when I got here without you. I have so many questions. More questions than I can even form into words, but I need you to know that I am grateful for you and your sacrifices.”
Esme’s lips slowly turned upward and her eyes glistened. “Oh, shut up, you stupid girl. You and Oscar are sentimental fools together. I have a lot less time on this world to use two hands than you do. And my house was already damaged beyond repair thanks to that one’s hard head.”
Oscar pointedly ignored Esme and clipped at a tuft of grass beside the stream
. His ears flitted from side to side and his posture was relaxed. If danger were coming, he would warn them. Caitlin moved back to her spot beside Esme and took a moment to enjoy the sunshine on her face. They were sitting in a narrow valley with trees on all sides. Just in front of them the mountains soared up into the clouds. They looked as though they went straight up, and Caitlin feared they’d have to summit them.
Her body had become weak over the months of nonuse. She had previously been very active. She enjoyed riding her bike for miles, the dog padding happily beside her, and she and Henry would go to the local fitness club three nights a week to work out together. Her muscles had been toned, and she was shapely. At times she worried she was a bit too shapely in the hips and chest, but Henry always assured her that she was beautiful.
After the incident she stopped exercising and barely ate. Most of her calories came from the wine she consumed. She rapidly lost muscle mass as well as fat. When she looked in the mirror, she saw that she was too thin, too weak. The transformation she had made in three short months was incredible.
Caitlin sat and lamented her loss of self until Esme stirred and said, “We should be going. We lost the floreans and their scouts for now, but if we stay in the same spot for too long, they’ll find us again.”
“What are the floreans?” Caitlin asked as she stood and wiped off her britches. She gave a hand to Esme and helped her up.
“To explain that, I have to tell you about Helenab,” Esme replied as she walked to the moose. He’d already lowered himself for the women to mount. As soon as they climbed on, he stood and started walking. His pace was much more manageable this time.
“If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to understand what’s happening,” Caitlin said.
“Of course,” said Esme, who took on the tone of an experienced storyteller. “About thirty-six years ago rumblings of discontent started among the people in Clarensdell, the land in which we currently reside. People were unhappy with the lack of leadership from our king, Langdon Dolfson. He’d stopped holding court. Complaints from his constituents were directed to his wife, who had no real experience in leadership of that capacity, and often issues went unresolved. At the same time, a powerful priestess was gaining followers. People would often turn to her when their plights were ignored by the king. She held a great amount of power that had not been seen in our land in generations, and she was generous with it.
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