First Witch's Tale

The landscape grew rougher as I neared the mountains. I fell in with a couple of travelling bards, who were kind enough to point me to the mountain pass and let me stay with them until we reached the nearest village to the magic school. I didn’t hang around. My experiences had taught me that bards were not always welcome, particularly in the more isolated villages. And besides, I wasn’t entirely sure of their motives. It would be very difficult indeed if they hadn’t been friendly. Bards had a bad reputation for seducing young women and I doubted the local villagers would take my side if I found myself trapped. They might consider it preferable to a bard seducing one of their daughters.

I had been told there was a well-kept road leading directly to the castle. The peddler who had told me that had either been lying or been misinformed. It could have been either. The road was far from well-kept, little more than a rocky track leading up through the mountain pass. The forests were so close to the roads that there was almost no room to hide, if someone who might be unfriendly appeared in the distance. I had been careful to avoid men on horseback, and convoys larger than a handful of men. They had bad reputations. I didn’t think I was a runaway serf - my father had been a freeman - but they might have different ideas. For all I knew, I had left my home kingdom behind weeks ago. I haven’t crossed anything that resembled a borderline, but I was pretty sure no one had marked the borders so carefully. And no one would speak for me if I were caught.

The road grew harder to follow as I neared the castle. I could feel the magic in the air, currents of power swirling around the mountaintops, drawing me onwards despite my doubts and fears. I had magic - I could feel the power beating within my breast, I knew what had done to David - and yet I had no idea what sort of reception I’d get, when I presented myself at the castle. I hadn’t met many magicians. They rarely passed through the village and when they did children and women were kept firmly out of sight. The only one I’d spoken to was Hilde and she had been a hedge witch. I was fairly sure the magicians didn’t acknowledge her as one of them.

My fears grew stronger as I walked on. Sweat trickled down my back as the road widened suddenly, revealing a small stone wall. It looked like a joke - I could jump over the wall easily - but I could sense raw power crackling around it. It was like staring into the sun. My soul quailed, just for a moment. I almost wanted to turn and walk away. It wouldn’t be that hard to find a place to live in the forest, or someone willing to take me in. There was always room for a young woman willing to marry a widower, no matter her background, if she was willing to raise her stepchildren as her own. My lack of apparent family would be a bonus. I wouldn’t have any grasping relatives demanding a share of the family inheritance.

And then I saw - or sensed - the magician, standing by the gap in the wall.

And I knew the die was cast.

Chapter Two

The magician and I stared at each other for a long moment.

He was a tall man, taller than me, with short blond hair and a simple neatly trimmed moustache that would have made my father and his peers chuckle and ask - perhaps not to his face - if he couldn’t raise a beard. His eyes were bright blue, meeting mine with surprising equanimity; his body lacked the scars of a lifetime on the farm, but had marks of its own that suggested magic was far from a safe occupation. He leaned on a battered wooden staff that had clearly seen better days - I suspected, from the way he was slouching against the staff, that he didn’t really need it. His clothes were a strange mixture of practical and fanciful. He wore a loose shirt and trousers, the kind of garb that would be worn by any apprentice craftsman, but they were of finer quality than anything I’d seen in my entire life. It was hard, almost impossible, to guess his age. I thought he was younger than my father, but appearances could be deceptive. I learnt, later, that he was a couple of years older than my father.

“Good morning,” the magician said. His voice was oddly accented, and he spoke like a well-born craftsman, but I had no trouble understanding him. “I am Bernard De Born. Might I enquire as to your name?”

I swallowed hard, suddenly all too aware of my lack of education. I knew how I should present myself, if I ever came to the attention of the local nobility, but I had no idea how I should address a magician. He seemed friendly, yet … I cursed under my breath. Should I bow? Should I knew? Prostrate myself? Or what?

“I am Janis, my Lord,” I managed. Was that the right approach? Or was I about to blasted for being cheeky? I had heard stories of young boys crippled by passing noblemen for not getting out of the way quickly enough, if they even bothered with an excuse. “Is this Whitehall?”