David Wells - Cursed Bones

“Oh, hello Isabel,” Hector said. “Mistress Hazel said you’d wake soon. Isn’t this a wonderful place?” He went back to work stacking a round of wood atop his chopping block without waiting for an answer.

“I really like it here,” Horace said. “Do you think Mistress Hazel will let us stay?”

“What’s gotten into you?” Isabel demanded. “We have work to do.”

“I’ll say,” Hector said, motioning to the stack of rounds still awaiting the axe.

Isabel looked at him incredulously for a moment before turning on her heel and marching back to the cottage.

“What have you done to them?” she demanded, stalking toward Hazel.

“Just a simple charm spell,” Hazel said. “They’ll be fine.”

“Dispel it,” Isabel said. “Right now!”

“No,” Hazel said. “I’ll need that firewood for the winter.”

“They’re not your servants,” Isabel said. “Remove your charm or I’ll …”

“What will you do?” Hazel asked, pointedly. “Mind your tongue or I’ll send you back into the swamp alone. If the death leeches don’t get you, the Sin’Rath surely will.”

Isabel fixed her with a glare, her eyes flashing, but said nothing. Ayela looked from one to the other and then down into the fire. Isabel left the cottage, nursing her growing anger in the hopes that she could overcome the effects of the malaise weed, but her anger just didn’t quite rise to the level necessary to shield her from the pull of the firmament.

She started walking without any real destination, mostly just trying to put distance between herself and Hazel. She didn’t trust the old witch and she wasn’t about to let her take Ayela. She hadn’t known the Princess of Karth for long, but she felt she owed Ayela for helping her escape the Sin’Rath and she admired her for her strength in the face of powers that were so clearly beyond her. But more than any of that, Ayela had become her friend.

Isabel turned the facts of her situation over in her head while she walked around the little valley, an island of growth and life in a sea of desolation that was the gloaming swamp. The valley was lush and green with literally thousands of different types of plants, some still producing fruit, even this late in the year, others flowering as if it were spring.

She was essentially alone against Hazel, without access to her magic, stripped of her weapons and worse, she had very little understanding of the foe she faced. She wished Alexander would come to her. At the thought she stopped, frowning in thought.

He had been traveling with them when they entered the valley, providing light with his illusions until they crossed the threshold of the valley entrance and then he’d vanished. It wasn’t like him. He would have been there for her the moment she woke from the henbane. Worry slammed into her followed by helplessness. What if he was hurt? A thousand possibilities cascaded through her mind, each worse than the last. With an act of will and a deep breath she imposed a sense of relative calm on her mind. He would come to her when he could. There were more things happening in the Seven Isles than her predicament.

She started walking again, this time with a renewed sense of purpose. She explored the valley, looking for a way out, anything she could use as a weapon, and anything out of the ordinary. During her first trip around she didn’t find the entrance. Even though she did find the clearing where they’d entered, there was nothing but a smooth stone wall of natural granite where the entrance had been. The walls were too high and too sheer for her to have any hope of climbing out, so she decided that Hazel had at least been telling the truth about the place being guarded by magic.

As for a weapon, she found a few garden tools and several stout branches that she could use as clubs, but she finally settled on a piece of broken stick with one end splintered at an angle. It wasn’t exactly a knife but it was good for one thrust, maybe two. If it came to that, Isabel hoped that would be all she needed.

She found herself back at the cottage near dusk. Hearing Ayela, Hector, and Horace within, she stuck her head through the door.

“Ah, there you are,” Hazel said, amiably. “Come, have some stew.” She dished a bowl and set it on the table before an empty chair as if nothing had happened. “You must be hungry.”

Isabel sat down without a word and ate her dinner while listening to Horace tell stories of adventures from his past. Hector interjected periodically, adding detail or perspective to the tale. Hazel listened intently, but Isabel got the impression that she wasn’t as interested in the stories themselves as she was in what those stories revealed about the brothers. She seemed especially curious about their magical talents.

While Hazel observed the brothers, Isabel observed Hazel. The old witch seemed anxious but Isabel couldn’t tell if it was just a natural reaction to having sudden houseguests or something else. Her wish to take Ayela as an apprentice was plausible enough, but Isabel couldn’t help feeling like Hazel had other motives. She wished Alexander was here. He would know the truth of her. The fact that he hadn’t reappeared since they entered the protective confines of Hazel’s valley worried her. After working through the myriad possibilities for his absence, she decided to believe that the magical protections surrounding the place were preventing him from entering.

When Isabel woke early the next morning, she saw Hazel sitting in front of the fire sipping tea and took the chair opposite her without a word. Hazel smiled thinly as she prepared a cup of tea for Isabel, but her eyes didn’t smile at all. Isabel nodded her thanks, taking a few sips, thinking through her list of questions.

“What do you want from us?”

“I’ve told you, dear,” Hazel said. “I want Ayela. Beyond her, I have no interest in you except that we both have a common enemy. I would think that offering you sanctuary when those hunting you are so close would count for something.”

“It would count for more if you hadn’t drugged me the moment I set foot in your valley,” Isabel said.

Hazel nodded with a shrug. “I can understand your feelings, but I would hope you can understand my reasoning. You are a witch from a different coven. It’s only natural for me to be suspicious, even threatened, by your presence. If you were a man, even a wizard, you wouldn’t pose such a danger because my charms would protect me, but they are useless against one such as you. So, when you entered my home, I was caught by surprise. Perhaps I acted rashly, but I am an old woman, frail and vulnerable. You are young and strong. I needed to know the truth of your purpose here. While henbane leaves one with a terrible headache, it’s otherwise harmless and it gave me the answers I needed.”

Isabel thought it over for a few moments. The story was plausible, believable even, and yet, Isabel didn’t believe it, at least not entirely. She just couldn’t shake the feeling that Hazel had some other agenda, but she also knew that revealing her suspicions wouldn’t serve her.

“I hadn’t thought it through from your perspective,” she said, looking into her tea. “You must not have guests very often.”

“No, I can’t say I do,” Hazel said.

“I can imagine how unsettling it must have been to have several armed people show up on your doorstep, and a witch to boot,” Isabel said. “I hope we can put this unpleasantness behind us.”

“Me too, dear,” Hazel said. “After all, it looks like you’re going to have to stay here for a while.”

“What do you mean?” Isabel asked, a thrill of fear racing through her. She had the feeling that Hazel was springing a trap.