The Traveler Witch (Sister Witches Book 2)

by Colleen Luddington

  “Lovely!”

  An hour later, Mirabelle was taken by horse and carriage outside of the city walls to Chestnut’s home. Pine had mentioned that some of the Elves preferred to live outside Aldris, but she assumed anyone with a government job would be living in the city.

  The carriage stopped in an empty grove, surrounded by huge beautiful trees, trunks covered in gorgeous knots. Mirabelle hesitated before getting out, not seeing anyone to meet her. As soon as she shut the door behind her, the carriage took off, leaving her alone in the woods.

  “Okay, bye,” she huffed, wondering if Chestnut was picking her up here or how this whole meeting would work.

  Moments after the carriage pulled away, Mirabelle found herself in complete “natural” silence. In other words, there were birds chirping and insects humming and she could hear a creek nearby, but otherwise, nothing. No horse hooves or Elves calling to each other, just plain quiet. She felt a twinge of homesickness for the farm, even though she’d only been gone a day. What she wouldn’t give for a home cooked dinner followed by a night in her own bed under her cozy quilt. Anona would be getting the maple syrup harvest started and she imagined the house smelled amazing.

  “I am surprised you haven’t wandered away yet. You’ve lasted much longer than the others who have come to this realm.” A male voice obscured by trees spoke.

  “I was told to meet Chestnut here, so I will wait until either he comes, or the noon hour comes.” She answered. “I have other plans for this afternoon.” The voice chuckled. A much older looking man than she expected emerged from the trees. His hair was wild with streaks of gray among the brown, his eyes a bright green. His cloak was smudged with dirt, a stark contrast to the pristine robes of the triumvirate.

  “Well, patient Traveler, why don’t we go to my home so we can talk?” He swept his arm to the side leading her deeper into the woods.

  In a very small clearing, Chestnut led her to a rustic cottage. The exterior was made of multi-colored stones that looked haphazardly thrown together with mortar, on the brink of teetering over. There was a chimney, puffing smoke, and a mess of untended flowers surrounding the entire house. It was very sweet looking, albeit unsafe, and Mirabelle thought it complemented this odd Elf very well.

  She followed him into the house, dark and cluttered, with streams of sunlight highlighting the dust. The cottage was just one large room, with everything imaginable crammed into the space. There was a bed piled high with quilts, an eclectic collection of chairs, none of which matched another, and several tables, all covered with papers and books. A small kitchen area took up one corner, with a tea kettle already boiling over the fireplace. Something in the hearth was burning, but it wasn’t wood. It looked almost like the peat Mirabelle knew was burned in the bogs of Ireland, but more rock-like.

  “Can I interest you in a cup of tea? It’s banned goods here, you know.” Chestnut rummaged through the piles on one table and produced two tea cups.

  “Tea is banned? What is this, the Revolution?”

  “Ha! You are referencing the American Revolution, correct? That is funny!” Not the reaction Mirabelle was expecting, but she would take it. “Elves do not consume anything that grows in the sunlight… therefore these herbs I will steep are off-limits. But I read a book once about tea, and my curiosity got the better of me. Now I couldn’t give it up if I tried.”

  “Well, if it’s taboo, I must partake,” Mirabelle answered, smiling. So far, she liked Chestnut. He seemed like a kook.

  “Once I get these steeped, I’ll begin the official interview. The triumvirate will be wanting a report soon, and I know better than to keep them waiting too long. Such a crabby bunch.”

  “I would have thought you would be good friends with them, having such a high-ranking position.” Mirabelle glanced over his books, several of which were not in any human language she could recognize. This might be the right Elf to bribe with her botany book.

  “Friends? My dear, I have been the inter-realm travel advisor since long before Birch, Willow, and Spruce were born. They are children compared to me.” Chestnut strained the illegal tea leaves out of the cups.

  “How old are you? How old are they?” Mirabelle hoped that wasn’t rude.

  “Spruce is around 150. Birch is closer to 100. Willow, the child, is only 50. It’s the youngest triumvirate our city has ever had. I, on the other hand, have served Aldris for over three hundred years. I have walked these woods for nearly five hundred years. I have seen triumvirates come and go, and something does not sit well with me with this one.”

  “Five hundred years?! Do Elves usually live that long?” She blurted out.

  “We can. Our lifespan can continue for hundreds of years, though many of my people do fall victim to violence at a younger age.” Chestnut shook his head. “Enough about Elves. Let me begin the official interview, and then we can talk further about our realm.”

  “All right.” Mirabelle sat at the table. “So what do you want to know?”

  “First question,” Chestnut picked up his writing utensil. “What is your realm of origin? Sorry, I have to ask these in order.”

  “It’s okay. My realm of origin is the Human Realm.”

  “And in what part of the Human Realm do you reside?”

  “Pennsylvania?” Mirabelle offered, not sure if that would make sense.

  “Is that a city or a rural area?”

  “Rural. I live on a farm,” she paused, “which is basically a place where we grow food and raise animals.” Chestnut scribbled notes.

  “Next, what other realms have you traveled to and what were your experiences there?” Mirabelle scrunched her nose.

  “Can I ask you a question off the record?” Chestnut lifted his pen. “Do you recommend me telling the truth here or not? I want to get my boyfriend out of jail and return home as soon as possible.” Chestnut raised his eyebrow.

  “I would perhaps embellish your deeds to make them sound as dangerous and important as possible.” He said slowly. “Now, what other realms have you traveled to and what were your experiences there?”

  “Ah, most recently I traveled to the High Court of the Fae. There I single-handedly disarmed and dethroned a usurper bent on destroying the reign of his sister. I also bent the entire court to my will.” Eh, sort of true. “Previously, I traveled to the Realm of the Air Spirits, where I made several allies who would go to war for me. My ability to fly has made me indispensable in their realm. Lastly, I visited the Dragons.” She paused. This might be going too far. “Their king was very appreciative of my temporary position as advisor, and holds me in the highest regard.” She smiled. “Good?”

  “Very. So, you would hold that you have allies among the Fae, the Air Spirits, and the Dragons?”

  “Yes, I do.” Chestnut chuckled, shook his head, but transcribed nonetheless.

  “Moving on,” he began again, “are you aware of what force opened this unstable portal between our realms?”

  “Hm.” Mirabelle thought. How could she make this sound better? “The warlock and I were attempting to open a portal to the Earthen Realm, but something in our spell went amiss, leading us here instead. Our normal attempts to close the portal were not successful, hence our voyage here.”

  “What was your purpose in traveling to the Elven Realm?”

  “To close the portal, obviously. Our realm is not the place to have a swirling open portal outside your front door.”

  “Does anyone know you are here?” Mirabelle thought that was a very interesting question. If no one knew she was here, would the Elves just keep her indefinitely?

  “Yes. My older sister, who is a witch as well, and her mentor, the powerful… Dottie.”

  “And what kind of witches are they?”

  “My sister is a Nature Witch and a Muse. Dottie is the most powerful seer in our realm.” Dottie was the only seer Mirabelle knew of, so that seemed a safe assumption.

  “And, we are done with the formal interview. Now, any questions abo
ut our realm that you might have for an old Elf with a distaste for the current government?” Chestnut took a deep drink of his tea.

  “How can I get Matthew out of prison and home? Why is he imprisoned in the first place? Do you have an appeal system I can go through?” She shot off.

  “To begin, getting the warlock out of prison may be difficult, but not impossible. I do not think our prisons are what you imagine. We do not have an appeal system, it would go against the core belief that the triumvirate, as made of three Elves, is infallible. Quite an overstatement of their abilities, in my opinion. He was imprisoned because our triumvirates fear power. Witches have long been our allies, warlocks our enemies. They would not dare imprison you, as in all our studies, witches are not solitary practitioners. The last thing the triumvirate wants in a group of irate witches coming through the portal, demanding their sister released. Warlocks, on the other hand, in our experience, do not work in groups. They lead other creatures, bending them to their wills. We have dealt with several dangerous warlocks, though they are always working alone.”

  “Do you think Matthew is a credible threat?” She pressed.

  “Of course not. If I were in the triumvirate, I would send you both back to your realm, close the portal, and be done with it. But why would our triumvirate do something sane? No, no. They will keep the warlock prisoner, infuriate a witch, and risk war with the Human Realm over something as silly as an accidental portal.” Mirabelle was slightly complimented that Chestnut thought she had the ability to bring the Human Realm to war with the Elves. She wondered what that would look like, handing out flyer to join the cause at the local supermarket, hoping to get a few psychos to believe in the Elven Realm. Very unlikely.

  “So, what should I do?” She asked plainly.

  “Be wary of the triumvirate. Your hosts, Pine and Cherry, are peaceable, understanding Elves. They owe their allegiance to the triumvirate, but I do not think they would outwardly spy on you. Bide your time.”

  Chapter 7

  Biding time was easy when you didn’t have a pressing deadline. Matthew, on the other hand, had a mother in the human realm who would start to worry frantically when her son didn’t return home after a week. They were already risking his not calling or contacting her for this long, which was odd in the first place. Like or not, Mirabelle had to move quickly, or else if they ever got back to the Human Realm, there would be hell in the form of a worried mother.

  After a meal of boiled potatoes and carrots (these Elves didn’t use any kind of oil or seasoning, so everything was a little bland), Cherry gave Mirabelle directions to the prison, convincing her it was close enough to walk without an escort. She did insist Mirabelle wear a cloak and cover her head, just so onlookers wouldn’t gawk as she walked by.

  At first, Mirabelle felt like a badass in the navy cloak, swirling around her with every step, but in minutes that wore off. Cloaks were kind of annoying. The wearer pretty much has to hold the hood up if there is any sort of breeze, and this one was an inch too long so Mirabelle kept stepping on the hem. She understood why jackets and knit hats eventually came into fashion, and stayed.

  When she walked up to the plain white stone building with a beautifully ornate door, Mirabelle checked the address three times. This could not be a prison; it was too nice. Finally, she knocked, not wanting to walk all the way back to Cherry and Pine’s and ask if they had given her the wrong address. A tall, yet slight, female Elf answered the door.

  “Yes, may I help you?” She asked politely.

  “Oh, I am here to see Matthew? The warlock?”

  “Ah yes, you must be the Traveler Witch. We were expecting you today. Please come in, let me take your cloak.” The welcoming atmosphere felt very strange. “My name is Rowan. I hope you find our accommodations for your paramour satisfactory. If there is anything out of place, or something missing that is considered a basic need in your realm, please do not hesitate to request it.”

  What? Was this a prison or a hotel? Mirabelle followed the Elf down a well-lit, white hallway to a metal door with a single bolt. Rowan rustled a key off her belt and with a loud thunk, the bolt was removed, and door opened.

  “Let me know if either of you need any refreshment. Enjoy your visit.” The Elf motioned for Mirabelle to enter, then shut the door behind her.

  “Mirie!” Matthew yelled, and swept her up in his arms, hugging her tightly. She wrapped her arms around his neck, so relieved to touch him again.

  “Are you alright? How are they treating you?” She took his face in her hands and searched it, looking for some sign of abuse, malnourishment even (though it had been just over twelve hours since she had last laid eyes upon him). Matthew smiled.

  “Darling, look around.” She took her eyes off him for the first time since entering the room, and was immediately shocked.

  The room was huge, much bigger than the room she had been given at Cherry and Pine’s house. Large windows that spanned from floor to ceiling (albeit affixed with bars) let in generous amounts of sunlight. On one wall was a very big bed, piled high with quilts and fluffy pillows. It was flanked on either side by a small table, with three books on each. The room also held a small table for meals, an armoire, a writing desk, and a door that looked like it led to a bathroom. (Mirabelle had been very happy to learn that the Elves already had the gift of indoor plumbing, which was, oddly, bestowed upon them from another Traveler Witch over 100 years earlier).

  “What the hell? This place is nicer than mine.”

  “I know. The Elves know how to treat a prisoner right.” Matthew pulled Mirabelle to the bed to sit next to him, keeping his hands firmly around her waist. “This place is awesome and all, but do you have any ideas on how we’re getting out of this realm? So far, I think I prefer home much more.”

  “I know. And we are on a bit of a tight schedule, with your mom being in the dark about inter-dimensional travel and all.” Mirabelle smiled at Matthew and gave him a quick kiss. It was so nice to sit in his arms again.

  “The guards here are all really nice. To the point that I am not sure they actually understand the point of their jobs. I wonder if I could sway one of them into letting me take a walk one night, then we could get the hell out of here.” Matthew twirled his finger around her hair while he thought out loud.

  “I think I’ve got an ally in the inter-dimensional expert here. I can’t tell if he’s a freedom fighter, or lost his marbles, either way, he’ll help us.” Mirabelle sighed. “Sorry I don’t have a real plan formed yet. I’m glad they are letting us see each other though. And that your prison stay is more 5-star hotel than French Revolution.”

  “I was thinking,” Matthew slid his arm tighter around her waist, pulling her onto his lap, “we could try to open another portal and just jump into a different realm and hope for a different reaction.” He pushed her hair out of the way to plant a kiss on her neck.

  “Unless we open a portal to, like, the Dragon Realm, and huge fire-breathing creatures start pouring into this room.” She countered, though made no move to shimmy out of position. After the stress of the last two days, it felt nice to sit in the arms of her boyfriend.

  “Serves these warlock-hating Elves right,” he laughed, his arms traveling under her tunic. “This is an interesting outfit. Are these pants deerskin?”

  “You would know better than I, country boy. No one wears deerskin in the suburbs.” Mirabelle gave into kissing him, basking in the moment. “It was the only thing in my armoire that I thought would be helpful if I needed to run away. I am a little uncomfortable traipsing around in gowns.” She paused, “You are still wearing your clothes from yesterday; didn’t they provide other clothes for you in this swanky room?”

  “They did, but if you think gowns are impractical, I really can’t imagine any sort of escape dressed in floor length robes. I looked like an insane bishop.” Mirabelle burst out laughing, trying to imagine Matthew in the formal attire the males Elves wore last night. She liked him better in his jeans and
flannels. She started unbuttoning his shirt through her giggles.

  “Is that a yes you would like to attempt to open another portal?”

  “No. Sorry, my dear, but I don’t think we should tempt fate in terms of my fertility.” She paused. “But I can think of a lot of other fun things we can try. And where better to try them than in a realm where we don’t really care about the consequences of portal-opening?”

  Under a mess of quilts, Mirabelle settled her head in the crook of Matthew’s arm. Their arms and legs were loosely intertwined, enjoying the time alone. Mirabelle would have to leave soon, mostly so she could start trying to figure out how on earth she was going to actually get Matthew out of this swanky prison.

  “Are you going to be able to get those pants back on?” He asked, nuzzling against her forehead.

  “Probably not. Good thing I brought a floor length cloak.” It turns out, deer skin pants are a pain in the ass to get off. Any drop of sweat or moisture suctions them against the wearer’s legs, and Matthew had to literally wrestle them off Mirabelle. “I will have to be extra aware of any breezes. Wouldn’t want to be known as a witch and a tart in Aldris.” She sighed. By the path of the sun, clearly seen through Matthew’s amazing view, it was already past mid-afternoon. She needed to get back to Cherry and Pine’s and try to sway them to her cause. Grudgingly, she rolled to the edge of the bed to stand, but Matthew quickly pulled her back towards him.

  “Don’t leave yet.” He pleaded. “It’s unbelievably boring when you aren’t here.”

  “I know. But I need to figure something out, which though I would love to do in your arms lounging in this very comfortable Elven bed, I probably need to be out in the realm, trying to gather allies. Ideally allies with some sort of power in this government.” Matthew pressed a kiss against her cheek and released her.

  “Okay, but get dressed really slowly so I can think about you all night.”

  “Did you just confess that you are going to masturbate all night?” Mirabelle pulled her shirt over her head. She looked at her pants, knowing quite well they were staying here. Instead she went to Matthew’s closet, hoping there was something in there that would do as bottoms.