Annabeth held her hand out to Ariana, who took it. Her maid transferred something from her own hand to Ariana’s. Something cold and metallic. Ariana peeked at it. It was the shiny metal compass that appeared out of nowhere after her nap.
Annabeth pulled Ariana to her in a quick embrace. “I think that little trinket is important, Lady. Keep it safe. I’ll miss you so much. Take care of yourself. Be cautious and brave. I love you, and I’ll miss you so.”
Ariana’s voice failed her. Her courage failed her. Her throat was too full of fear and tears. She shakily stuffed the shiny compass into the pocket of her carpet bag that held the spare bit of parchment her father gave her. She couldn’t move her mouth to tell the women she loved them, too, more than she loved her father, who was never the parent they were to her. She couldn’t bring her heavy feet to flee to the forest, though the sounds of hounds and angry men were growing ever nearer.
Annabeth hung the heavy bag she’d prepared over Ariana’s shoulder, kissed her cheek then said, “They come to kill you, Lady. They’ll call you a witch and burn you. Go now!”
Ruthie, tears streaming down her face, pushed her charge towards the forest, unsticking Ariana’s feet. And once they were unstuck they wouldn’t stop. She ran, not able to move her lips to make the words that would speak her pain and love to the women who sobbed at the edge of the glade. She collected her feelings of loss and love into a fuzzy pink ball inside her hand as she ran. She didn’t know how she did it, but she felt it fill her palm. She threw the cottony ball over her shoulder, not looking back. She knew without looking that it would fall at Ruthie and Annabeth’s feet. It was their gift and they would receive it.
The hounds brayed at her heels; the horse’s hooves shook the earth behind her. She could hear the hatred in the hunter’s voice as they called, “There’s the little witch! Seize her!”
Their anger was palpable. Fear thrust her feet forward. She’d used too much of her power to be able to stop the men, but they would not be able to catch her once in the forest’s folds. The Black Forest still frightened her, but Ruthie had never steered her wrong before. If she said Ariana would be safe there, she would.
She was so close to the forest now, she saw the telltale thorn bushes that grew at the foot of the forest, extra discouragement for stupid humans. Ariana couldn’t stop running, or the hounds would have her. She could feel their breath on her heels, so much faster than their masters. Their frenzy was palpable. If she stopped, she was theirs. So she ran with abandon into the waist-high sea of thorns, her eyes shut tight against the pain that was sure to come.
Only, it didn’t. The brush parted before her and closed behind her. She heard the yelp of a hound and the curse of an angry man aching for her blood. She tripped in exhaustion onto the pillowy underbrush of the forest’s floor. She braced herself for sharp stones, broken twigs and firm ground. But the Black Forest cushioned her fall, cradling her child with the most comfortable moss and fluffiest leaves. The twigs scampered; the stones rolled out of her way.
Ariana lay in the spongy bed of foliage, her chest heaving, her eyes running and her head pounding. She felt the forest sigh around her. More brush hugged her, like the arms of the mother she’d never known. She shut her ears to the sounds of angry hunters. She shut her eyes to the tears that wouldn’t stop falling. She allowed the forest to cradle and comfort her in her grief.
Ariana curled up in the soft underbrush for some time, crying until the tears dried upon her face. Finally, she sat up in her mossy bed, rubbed her eyes and looked around her. From outside, the Black Forest, like the name implied, seemed impenetrable and dark. Once inside its folds, it was certainly dimmer than in the high noon sun, but it was not as dark as Ariana expected. Sun shone in patches through the canopy of the trees, alighting the forest in greenish-yellow beams that made everything they touched glow.
The trunks of trees, fallen leaves, branches and skittering birds were lit in a fuzzy warmth from the peeking sun. She guessed, however, that at night the forest would be almost impossible to navigate. She needed to find a place to rest for the night before night truly fell.
She stood unsteadily. The underbrush that had cushioned her released itself back to the floor of the forest with a sigh. She gathered her food basket and the few parcels of cloth-wrapped food that had spilled from it as well as her carpet bag full of clothing, and ventured deeper into the Black Forest. She spared no thought for turning around and leaving it. She felt safer walking into the unknown than facing the known terrors of a world that would not accept her.
She walked with little aim or purpose over fallen branches and trees, around holes dug by forest creatures and past scratching squirrels and foraging birds, when she started to notice the glow of the sun through the trees dimming. Her stomach growled and her feet, in the tight black dinner shoes she’d been forced to wear to greet the Count, ached.
She’d hoped that if she kept walking her purpose in this strange place would simply come to her, like her magic had. Only, it didn’t. The Black Forest was vast and her experience of the outdoors was limited to the hedge and vegetable garden behind her father’s manor.
She spied a flattish rock ahead and decided to rest her feet and look through the contents of the carpet bag to see whether Annabeth had packed her more sensible walking shoes. The dainty black slippers were covered in forest muck, and the thin soles were leaving her feet feeling abused by every small stone she stepped upon.
She rummaged under the top layer of dresses and located a sturdy pair of brown walking boots in her bag. She silently thanked Annabeth and went to replacing the mucked-up black dress shoes with the more sensible brown boots. After lacing the boots she held the dirty black shoes up in dismay. What was she supposed to do with them? If she put them in the bag with the other contents, everything would be soiled.
Then, Ariana remembered the large side pocket where she’d stowed the useless parchment her father held for her and the little silver compass Annabeth has saved. She unbuttoned the pocket and removed the parchment and locket, placing them on the rock next to her. She shook the black shoes, attempting to dispel a little of the grime, before placing them in the side pocket and buttoning it.
That done, she turned her attention to the little compass hanging from a silver chain. It was cold to the touch, an unassuming-looking compass, which, from what she could tell, was not actually working properly. That is, she knew that she’d been heading west when she went into the forest and hadn’t changed her direction, but the compass’ hand was pointing to the black mark that usually meant south. It hung perpetually limp, as though it were broken.
She sighed, picking up the spare parchment, somewhat yellowed with age but still holding together well. She frowned at the piece of paper her father had concealed from her. The blank, useless thing.
What had he said about it? That it was to be used with a tool and her own power? Used how? She had a hard time keeping anger with her father from clouding her thoughts. Yes, he’d been inept at protecting her. Yes, he’d been unhelpful and dishonest about her mother and the strange gift she’d left Ariana. But what did it matter? He wasn’t a good father, but his ineptitude was no longer her main problem. She could be angry at him after she found an acceptable place to sleep and eat for the night. She could wallow then.
Right now, she needed, with every fiber of her being, to be safe. She felt desperation sit heavily in the pit of her stomach. Only, she had no idea of where to look, what direction to take or what to do when she got to this imaginary safe place. She’d been waited on her entire life, never allowed to roam from her own front garden. How would she survive in a quickly darkening wood, with a limited supply of food and no idea where to go?
Despite her best efforts, she felt her throat tighten in the tell-tale way that meant she was about to cry again. Moisture welled in her eyes as she fought the urge to give up. Her weakened power purred in the back of her mind, but what good was her power at a time like this? She stared at the pi
ece of parchment her mother left her, rubbing its waxy texture between the fingers of her left hand. The compass rested on the surface of the map, but it was no longer still. The compass hand wiggled as if deciding where to point, though Ariana had yet to move.
She narrowed her eyes at the compass, focusing on her need. Her father had said something about her power, combined with the correct tool and the parchment. Had the tool been this seemingly broken compass? Perhaps it wasn’t broken. Maybe it just needed a little power to work properly.
Ariana spread the map out on her lap and lay the silver compass on the top of it. She reached inside her tired reserves and fished for a scrap of power to use for the exercise. She imagined pinching the scrap of power, pale blue in color, and drawing it towards the map and compass. Her eyes were open, but she was no longer seeing the forest outside her. Her eyes were focused inside.
Her translucent inner fingers grasped the pale thread and drew it out of her. She tied the strand of magic to the cold, dark, silver compass and useless, blank parchment. And she saw the moment the power and her need woke the instruments up, as though she was both inside and outside herself.
She had to close her eyes against the sudden flash of light illuminating the growing darkness of the forest. She opened them slowly and noticed that the blinding flash had turned to a dull, blue glow, emanating from the parchment on her lap. That wasn’t the only thing coming from the map. One after another, little images popped into clarity on the map. A rock drew itself into existence, a marker with her name drawn on it flicked into life next to the rock, a few trees grew up around her on the map, and, slowly, a trail leading from behind the rock to an undrawn, unknown location began to etch itself onto the surface of the parchment in dark brown ink.
Ariana shouldered her bags, careful not to disrupt the map or compass and stood, holding the map and compass in front of her. A small section of the path was completely etched into the map now. The more she walked the more the images on the map unfolded before her. She was soon halfway across the trail etched into the map’s surface, barely registering the darkness closing in around her, nor the scuffling sounds of nighttime predators waking. The map still glowed a vibrant gleam that helped her make her way through the growing gloom.
She placed her feet carefully over roots, fallen branches and various rodent holes, while still keeping her eyes on the shifting compass needle and the self-inking map. A mile into her trek, her feet were throbbing from smacking into rocks hidden in the pitch darkness of the forest, where the night came much sooner than it did outside the thick canopy. But her heart was light because the path on the self-inking map had finally ended. She smiled at the little oval of darkness that indicated a cave at the end of her trek.
She lifted her head and peered through the gloom, raising the map the better to light her way. She adjusted the straps of her basket and bag and picked up her step, shuffling her tired feet towards the tar black entrance of a cave, not much bigger than she was wide. She thrust her bags through the entrance to the cave first before squeezing into it after them.
Once inside, her map’s glow faded, having completed its job. She was unsure of what to do next. It was so dark inside the cave that her trek through the forest seemed like a midday hike in comparison. She stretched her back and rolled her shoulders, aching from lugging her heavy bags this far into the forest.
She held her hand up an inch in front of her face and couldn’t even make out the barest outlines in the darkness. Her stomach grumbled in hunger and fear prickled her skin. Not being able to see was very disorienting.
She forced herself to take a deep breath and let it out slowly, like Ruthie always instructed her to do when she felt spells coming on. Speaking of spells...She wondered about the quiet flame of magic still stirring in her core. It was very timid after the trek, and using it on the map. It was nothing like the waterfall of magic that cascaded through her over the last few weeks, when she’d go so long without using it that it would burst from her in strange ways. No, today she’d used her power on purpose, almost throughout the day and night. It was still inside her, but the potency had died down considerably since this morning.
Even so, it must be possible to use whatever little magic she had left inside her to get some light. She rubbed her arms over the brocade of her fancy dress. It was cold in the cave, too. Damp and cold. A slight but steady cold breeze wafted past her every few minutes. A fire, then. That’s what she needed, so that’s what she’d make. She tucked her food basket and bag to the right of her, turning away from them, so as to not accidentally catch her only possessions aflame.
She rubbed her icy hands together, warming them with her breath. It didn’t do much to warm her. She shivered. She wondered...
At dinner and with the map, she’d used her powers intentionally. True, she hadn’t known what would come of what she did, but still. She obviously had some control over the power. When she used it with the map, and when she used it against Count Repugnian yesterday, she only had to imagine something happening, and it did. She felt the glowing core of her magic, not so strong it made her nauseous, but flickering like a steady candle.
She closed her eyes to the darkness of the cave and pictured, in her mind, a flame that warmed but did not burn. She pictured the strands of her pale blue magic coming into her palms like thin tendrils of flame. She rubbed her palms together rolling the blue flame threads, encouraging them to gather into one another, like roving, becoming stronger.
She knew it worked before she even opened her lids. The light from the blue flame was visible through her clenched lids. She opened her eyes to find a steady, fuzzy blue flame wavering in her hand. She smiled in triumph, proud of the way she’d learned to mold her magic through these little trials, the magic that before felt so unpredictable and dangerous at home, where she’d not been allowed to use it.
She lifted her hand to scan her surroundings and found that the cave she was sitting in was much larger than the opening implied. In fact, the cave seemed to get both taller and wider the further back it went. Ruthie stuffed her compass and map into her bag, then gathered it and the basket over her unoccupied arm.
She may as well go into the cave a little further. Maybe the cold breeze wouldn’t be so bad farther into the cave. The walls of the cave sparkled back at her where her blue light touched them, as though there were tiny diamonds embedded throughout the cave. It truly was a magnificent cave. The more she saw of it, the more comfortable she felt there.
She walked several feet further into the cave when it suddenly opened into a medium-sized inner chamber, large enough for her to lay across either way. The ceiling of the chamber had long, stretching icicle-like arms extending from it. The floor of the chamber, however, was smooth, almost as smooth as marble, so smooth it seemed impossible that it could have been naturally occurring. She wondered what sort of beast or human had helped make this chamber more hospitable, but also hoped she would not find out tonight.
Placing the magical fire on the mirrored surface of the floor, she rummaged through her food basket and pulled out a crumbly biscuit, a chunk of yellow cheese and a small bag of raisins. She ate the entire biscuit but only a small amount of cheese and half a handful of raisins. She didn’t know how to cook or hunt, so she would be sparing with her food. She put the rest of the food away, feeling a little less hungry and a lot less worried now that she had a nice place to sleep.
Ariana rummaged through her large carpet bag next, pushing fancy dresses and sturdy wool socks to the side, until she found a small feather pillow and a medium thick wool blanket. She smiled sadly, thinking of the love and care Annabeth had put into packing her bag, and the concern Ruthie had shown in packing her food. Though she was alone, she felt a little less lonely covering herself with the blanket Ruthie and Annabeth used to wrap her in when a big spell was oncoming and nausea wracked her body.
It was a well-used blanket. It and the tiny blue fire settled upon the glassy surface of the cave, warmed and comfor
ted her. Soon, she was overcome by yawns, closing her ice-blue eyes more and more to the glow of the fire. So many thoughts tried to fight through the exhausted fog that overcame her, but sleep won in the end and she gave into it.
A soft whine broke the stillness of the cave and startled Ariana awake. She could not be certain in the darkness what time it was, but the fire had winked out when she had and the air around her was damp and cold. Her wool blanket, wrapped entirely around her body, kept her fairly warm, but she still felt icy shudders up her spine as the pained whine sounded again. It was coming from deeper inside the cave.
She moved her head towards the sound, wondering what sort of animal it was. Ruthie had called her soft-hearted towards animals before, when Ariana had stumbled across a stray kitten. Her father had not wanted her to keep it, but Ariana did her best to nurse the abandoned runt. It’d died, but not due to inattention. Ariana stayed up late for three days attempting to help it live. She hadn’t known that she could use her powers on purpose then. She wondered if she had used them, if she could have saved that sweet, fluffy black kitten.
The whine sounded louder and more desperate, echoing against the chamber where she lay. She frowned and sat up, closing her eyes to picture the pale blue power inside her. She blew into her hands, calling forth her warming flames, which immediately lit the cave in an eerie glow.
She stood, letting her wool blanket fall to the floor of the cave. Slowly, she walked toward the weakening whines, deeper into the cave. The walls of the cave narrowed as she made her way out of her cozy antechamber and into a dripping passageway, where tall motes of minerals stuck out of the floor to meet the cones of minerals hanging from the ceilings. Stalactites and Stalagmites, she remembered from a tutoring session. She wove around the protruding columns, stepping over puddles and uneven patches of ground. She ducked her head to enter a short passageway, just short enough to be uncomfortable to walk in.
Wayward Magic Page 9