The Witch's Daughter

by Rae D. Magdon

  The most amazing feeling, a tide of warmth in my blood, rose in me when my lover stiffened; tight, slick inner muscles clutching at my fingers and fluttering wildly. She let out a choked sob, legs trembling, and almost collapsed. Her back arched, pushing her breasts forward, and I could not resist taking a pink nipple between my lips. The new sensation, enhanced by the thumb that rolled over the swollen pearl just above her entrance, was too much. She screamed, releasing for a second time, the sound making heat rush between my legs.

  Drained, she fell on top of me, trying to catch her breath while I stroked her hair and murmured sweet words against the pink shell of her ear. Slowly, I coaxed her down from her high. As she came back to the world, her eyes focused on my bare form, running over my breasts, stomach, and legs. I observed her in return, pleased to notice that she looked disheveled and very well loved.

  “You needed that,” I said, letting my hand rest over the swell of her bottom as she curled up against my side. The weight in my chest already seemed a little lighter.

  Rapunzel smiled, tracing patterns against my thighs with her fingertips that made my legs twitch. “I did. But now I want to please you.”

  Her hand crept higher, but I caught her wrist, stopping her. “Ailynn… Oh, Ailynn. Let me touch you,” she pleaded.

  “I-I can’t,” I stuttered, ashamed of myself. The look of disappointment on my lover’s face was a knife in my heart. “I want you to…” I tried to retrace my steps and erase the damage, but it was too late. “I’m still hurting. Give me… give me some time. Please.”

  Although she did not pull away from me, Rapunzel turned her head so that it was buried in a pillow, hiding her eyes. Her hand found safer territory, wrapping around my waist instead. “I’m sorry…” I said.

  “No, I’m sorry,” Rapunzel sighed. “I hoped…”

  “That everything would be all right now,” I finished for her. “I hoped that would happen, too. I still love you. I want to try and be with you. But I need some time.” I paused, wondering whether to give voice to thoughts that I knew were true, but had not yet accepted in my heart. “I know that you only did what you thought you needed to. It was not your fault. But…”

  “But…”

  “But it still hurts.”

  Raising her head from the pillow, Rapunzel looked me directly in the eye. I could tell that it was difficult for her. “I will do everything I can to ease your doubts, Ailynn, no matter how long it takes. I want to spend the rest of my life proving how much I love you.”

  …

  Chapter Six:

  I awoke, startled and bathed in a cold sweat. For a moment, I did not remember where I was, but the memories came flooding back as something warm moved against my side. Rapunzel was still next to me, sleeping peacefully. Leaning over, I brushed my lips across her forehead and stroked her hair, which was past her hips now. She did not move, and I decided not to disturb her. The sounds of the birds outside told me that it was early morning, and I shifted across the mattress, trying not to wake Rapunzel.

  “The only bird I want to hear right now is an owl,” she mumbled into the pillow, trying to loop an arm around my waist and pull me back to bed.

  I did not let her. “No,” I said sadly. “It’s a nightingale. You can stay in bed, darling. I need to get something.”

  Rapunzel had not asked about my search for the binding spell during the time we spent together. We had been distracted, but I was surprised that such an important subject had not come up. My eyes widened as I realized something further. Rapunzel considered me more important than her freedom. She had been so afraid of losing me that all thoughts of my quest seemed unimportant in comparison.

  Shivering as my feet touched the cold floor, I stretched my arms up to the ceiling, popping the vertebrae in my back with a loud crack. Rapunzel opened one eye to watch me. “Where are you going?” she asked, still groggy.

  “Go back to bed,” I repeated, bending over to pick up my discarded clothes. They were in poor condition. The waistband of my leggings was stretched out of shape, and one sleeve of my shirt was torn.

  “But I am enjoying the view.”

  I snorted, secretly pleased. “I am only going outside.” For some reason, I did not want to tell Rapunzel about the book yet. Although I had skimmed the relevant section several times, I still needed to examine the specific spell linking Rapunzel to the tower. In theory, I understood what needed to be done, but putting magical theory into practice is not always simple. I was relieved that Rapunzel did not question me further. Perhaps she sensed my reluctance to talk about it. I was confident that, given a little time, I could release her from her prison, but I did not want to raise her hopes only to disappoint her if I failed. Both of us had already been through enough already.

  As I put on my shoes, one of which had been kicked into a corner, Rapunzel’s breathing evened out as she drifted back into a light sleep. I could not help glancing over my shoulder to smile at her. Soon, I thought. Soon, I will be able to take you away from this place. And then…

  And then what? Where would we go? What would we do? I was not sure, but I wanted to leave the tower as soon as we could, before we attracted unwanted attention. As I approached the balcony, I noticed a pile of colorful material near the edge. Bending down to examine it, I discovered several skeins of silk. Moving them aside, I realized that some of the silk had been fashioned into several linking pieces. I unrolled the bundle, its softness reminding me of Rapunzel’s silken hair. To my surprise, the interwoven strands took on a familiar shape. A ladder!

  At first, I wondered why Rapunzel had bothered weaving a ladder of silk. Where had she gotten the silk in the first place? Since Mogra’s magic still trapped her in the tower, the ladder was not for her use. My stomach flipped as understanding dawned. The ladder was for Byron. The reminder of him made me feel ill, and I almost threw the ladder over the side of the balcony. Then, thinking better of it, I unrolled the rest of the silken ladder. I might as well make use of it, I decided. I was here to make sure that Byron Wylean-James the Third stayed far, far away from now on.

  Using the hook that Rapunzel wrapped her hair around, I secured the silken ladder and tugged it, making sure that it would hold weight. It was very cleverly made, the connecting triangular pattern lending more support to its structure. Rapunzel had probably designed it herself in addition to piecing it together. I forced myself to forget the ladder’s original purpose as I swung my leg over the balcony railing and began my descent.

  My faithful quarter horse was waiting for me, and since I had left him plenty of rope, he had been able to graze and move around during the night. “I’m sorry, boy,” I said, stroking his nose and allowing him to lip at my fingers. I felt guilty for neglecting him.

  After I had fed and watered him with my traveling supplies, I searched in the discarded saddlebags for the thick book that Cate had given me. Feeling the texture of its binding as I pulled it out strengthened my resolve. I would be able to free Rapunzel. I had come too far to fail now.

  I took a moment to trace the flaking gold lettering that named the book’s title – Elementary Majicks. It was a book that I was familiar with. Mogra’s library contained a copy, but the pertinent pages had been torn out and burned. As I flipped open the book to page one ninety three and began reading, a strange sound came from behind me, startling the horse and making me look up after a few sentences. However, the noise did not continue for more than a moment. Seeing nothing, I decided that it was some small animal moving in the undergrowth and bent back over the page.

  Linking spells, or Binding Spells, are used to create a magical ‘chain’ between two objects, forming a strong bond between them. There are several variations of this spell, which may be used to transfer the properties of one object to another, or may act as a physical tie to make two objects inseparable.

  I frowned, not wanting to think of Rapunzel as an ‘object’. Unlike Mogra, I still remembered that Rapunzel had a soul. Maybe… maybe it was the o
ther half of my own soul. I blushed, dismissing those thoughts. Skipping a paragraph that referred to linking two magical objects together, I read on.

  A binding spell may also be used to make an object immovable – a famous historical example being the Sword of the Templars, which cannot be removed from its monastery home in the Northern Sweep. No single Ariada has been able to break that binding spell, because it was made using the combined skill of several monks.

  To create a binding spell, the magic-worker must take part of the first object that they wish to bind, and combine it with part of the second object. In the aforementioned example, a jewel was taken from the hilt of the Sword of the Templars and submerged in melted glass from the monastery’s famous stained-glass windows. Pieces of glass were taken from windows in all parts of the monastery…

  I stopped reading, scanning the page for more relevant information.

  … must use shape-magic, the art of ‘seeing’ magical auras with the senses, to tie a knot of magical energy around both small pieces of the objects to be bound, and place these objects in a safe location so that the knot may not be untied. The location must be close to the bound objects…

  My frown of concentration twitched, the corners of my lips curling upwards in a smile. It seemed that undoing a binding spell was not as complex as making one. If I understood the text correctly, Mogra had taken something from Rapunzel, perhaps her hair or clippings from her nails, and combined it with something from the tower. Then, she had woven knots of magic around them like a tangle of string. All that I needed to do was untie the knot.

  I felt strangely confident. Although Elementary Majicks said that the spell binding the Sword of the Templars to its monastery had not been broken, I doubted that Mogra had enlisted the aid of other Ariada to create Rapunzel’s binding spell. She was a loner, and did not like associating with other magic-doers unless it was absolutely necessary. Also, the sword and the monastery were sacred historical objects and landmarks, respectively. I doubted that anyone wanted to break the spell, considering its historical significance.

  Shape-magic was a concept that I was familiar with. With some effort and practice, an Ariada could learn to ‘touch’ magic with their senses. Although everyone that used magic sensed it in some way, feeling the vibrations of its energy, tasting its tart flavor, smelling its warmth, those who knew shape-magic could manipulate the patterned ‘threads’ that wove together to make up spells. I had used a rudimentary form of shape-magic to feel the ropes of magic that bound Rapunzel to the tower. Now, I knew how to untie them.

  Closing my eyes, I opened the rest of my senses, paying attention to the vibrating hum of magic that always surrounded the tower. It was like soft music, a sound that you could not distinguish from other noises unless you made a conscious decision to focus on its unique timbre.

  I took a step towards the tower, tucking the heavy book underneath my arm and preparing to climb up the silken ladder. As I came closer, the buzzing sounds of magic grew louder. Very carefully, I began to scale the tower’s stone wall. Because I also needed to balance the weight of the book, it was slow going.

  When I had climbed half way up the balcony, I noticed that the hum of magic was quieter. Its warmth, which had brushed over my skin like a caress as I opened myself to it, had faded, and I felt colder. Thinking carefully, I started to climb back down again. After a few steps, the vibrations felt stronger. They continued to increase in speed and power as I returned to the ground.

  When my feet touched the forest floor, I tossed the heavy book on top of my traveling sack. I felt slightly guilty for handling it so carelessly, but I was excited. Stretching my hands out and extending my fingers, I tried to feel for the strands of magic that swirled around the tower in a cloud. To any observer, I might have looked like a blind man groping along the tower walls, but I was too focused on my task to worry about looking foolish.

  Whatever the source of the magical energy was, it had to be near the base of the tower, where most of it had collected. It was like a game of blind man’s bluff, following the voice of a hiding playmate with closed eyes, listening carefully to choose the right direction. After I had circled the tower three times, I decided that the magic felt strongest at its back-left corner. The entire tower was a square shape that narrowed closer to the top, although the sharp edges had been softened into curves.

  I ran my hands along the smooth stones, pushing aside crawling ivy to feel the rock beneath, which was surprisingly warm. I paused, considering. Slowly, I bent my knees, following the side of the tower down, down, down with my fingers. The texture changed, becoming rougher and pockmarked, as though tiny sparks of… something… had eaten away at the stone.

  I buried my hands in the soft earth. The magic felt even stronger. The game of follow-the-voice was almost over. I began digging with my hands, pulling up clods of grass and tearing ivy roots, using the cracked earth around the foundation stones to work my fingers deeper into the soil.

  Soon, my pants and sleeves were dirty and there were black lines under my fingernails. I had made a shallow, sloping trough of a hole, but I still found my lack of progress frustrating. Unwilling to give up, I brushed myself off and ran back to my supplies. They remained where I had left them, undisturbed beneath one of the ash trees. The quarter horse whinnied a greeting. I began rummaging through my saddlebags, searching for the small shovel that I used to dig fire pits when I slept in the open.

  When I found the shovel, I hurried back to the humming cornerstone of the tower where I had been digging, holding the handle high above my head. As I drew closer, I was doubly sure that I had chosen the right place to look for the binding spell. The going was much faster with the help of the shovel, and soon I had dug an even hole almost three feet deep. The shovel’s blade was coated in damp earth, and since it was small, I tapped it against the tower’s stones to clean it and continue digging. A pile of dirt grew steadily beside the hole, and I began to worry that I would have to move it when, finally, the edge of the shovel collided with something. Tossing it aside, I returned to using my hands, tossing aside earth and brushing the soil away from a flat wooden surface.

  As I exposed more of the wood, the pulses of magic grew stronger, vibrating in the air around me like a deep, calling voice. Hunched over the small pit that I had made, I finally managed to reveal the smooth edges of a little square box. Filled with excitement, I tugged until the box came loose, pulling it out of the hole and setting it in my lap, not caring about the dirt that clung to its sides. The wood of the box felt warm to the touch, almost like heated skin. There was an old lock on it, but a few sharp taps of the shovel’s blade (which came away dented) broke the lock’s rusty neck. Triumphantly, I pulled open the box.

  Inside, perched on top of a soft purple cloth, was a lock of golden hair wrapped around a piece of gray stone. Automatically, I untied the hair, which looked as fresh and healthy as the locks attached to Rapunzel’s head. The shade was identical – I would recognize that color anywhere. It came loose from the stone, but the steady, insistent hum of magic pouring out of the box did not cease. Closing my eyes again, I reached out with my smudged and dirty hands, trying to feel the threads of magic that bound the hair and the stone together. It felt like a tangle of yarn after Diath, my mother’s cat, had made knots and loops playing with it. Sighing, I went to work and began untangling the magical strings.

  After a minute, my fingers began to grow sore, but I ignored the stiffness in my joints, wishing that I had some invisible scissors to cut through the knots. Not wanting to use magic, just in case it set off some kind of energy reaction, I carefully untangled the mess of knots and twists. At last, the final knot came undone and I felt the humming vanish. My head started to ache from the sudden lack of comforting magical energy and I realized that I was exhausted. Using shape-magic to feel out the threads had tired me.

  Filled to bursting with excitement, I threw off my weariness and dropped the chipped stone and lock of hair onto the ground, forgettin
g them completely. “Rapunzel!” I shouted from below even though I was not sure that she could hear me. “Rapunzel! I’ve done it!”

  Immensely pleased with myself, I brushed my messy hands on my shirt and found the silken ladder that Rapunzel had made. It was just as I had left it, still dangling precariously down from the balcony, its soft texture belying its sturdy design. I scrambled up the ladder like a spider running along a wall, eyes fixed on the balcony railing above me. My wide grin made my cheeks ache, but I did not care. Everything was going to be all right now. None of the bad things that had happened in the past mattered anymore. Rapunzel was free and I was going to take her away from her prison forever.

  “Rapunzel!” I called again, swinging onto the balcony with a surge of energy. “Come here!” There was no answer, but what I saw almost made me stumble backwards and fall back down to the ground.

  My beloved was not alone. Mogra was waiting for me inside of the small room. In her hand was a knife and it was pressed against Rapunzel’s throat.

  …

  Chapter Seven:

  “Ailynn,” she purred, her black eyes cold and unfeeling, “I am not surprised to see you here.” She was in her youthful form, and even though I wanted nothing to do with her, seeing my mother’s familiar face made my heart stop.

  “You would fetch your dearest,” she continued, mocking me, “but the beautiful bird is no longer singing in the nest.” Rapunzel trembled in Mogra’s arms, her brown eyes pleading with me to do something, anything.

  My jaw and hands clenched so tightly that I began to shake with rage. “Let her go,” I demanded, raising my fists. I had almost no experience with physical fighting, but I was not a Witch’s daughter for nothing. My mind ran through spells of disabling, spells of pain, and protective spells.