Revenge, Denied

  Revenge, Denied

  Joan Marie Verba

  A fantasy short story

  FTL Publications

  Minnetonka, Minnesota

  Copyright © 2012 by Joan Marie Verba

  FTL Publications

  P O Box 1363

  Minnetonka, MN 55345-0363

  www.ftlpublications.com

  mail@ftlpublications.com

  ISBN 978-1-936881-07-9

  All rights reserved.

  Marlys had sunk into a deep, sweet dream of home when hands jerked her out of bed. She struggled to get her footing as the abductors, one on each side, hustled her out the door of the lodge. Getting her breath, she shouted, “Help! Elspeth!” but there was no response from within. Outside, as she scrambled to keep up with her captors, she realized that these were Elspeth’s other apprentice sorceresses, Janna and Kelsie, who she had only met that morning. Both were only one year older than Marlys, who was sixteen.

  “What are you doing? Where are you taking me?”

  No answer.

  By the light of the full moon, Marlys could see they were headed toward the edge of the clearing, toward the woods. Dry branches had been piled next to a wooden post. When they got there, the muscular Janna shoved Marlys’s back against the post as the smaller and thinner Kelsie pulled her arms back and tied them with leather thongs.

  “Why are you doing this? I haven’t done anything!”

  Janna and Kelsie only giggled. They stepped away from the post. Janna kindled a sorcerous flame and set the branches on fire.

  Marlys gasped and flinched, straining at her bonds. “What do you want?”

  “We want to see you burn, of course,” Kelsie said blandly. She twisted a strand of her brown hair around a finger.

  “Help! Help! Elspeth!” Surely the sorceress could hear? How soundly did she sleep?

  “Help, help,” mocked Janna, and Kelsie laughed.

  “Please! I’ll do anything! Just let me go!”

  “We don’t want anything from you,” Kelsie sneered.

  Already smoke made Marlys cough. The flames grew each moment; they would reach her legs soon.

  She remembered what her father had said: when danger threatens, calm yourself. Consider what was at hand to use.

  With an effort, she held her breath and thought. Her mother and grandmother had taught her small spells...one had to serve. Blow it out? But all she could call up was a puff of air, which seemed to fan the flame instead of extinguishing it. Water? But all she could form was dew, which was not enough to douse the fire. Oh, her feet! Oh, her legs! Cut? Cut! The spell nicked the thongs enough for her to twist her hands, and break free of them. She bent, pulled the nightgown around her legs, toppled away from the flames, and rolled on the ground. Sitting up, she saw her clothes had not burned, but her feet, her legs! She spelled a small sphere of light and examined them. Red and blistered only, no black spots, but bad enough. She began to weep from the pain.

  “Cry, baby, cry!” mocked Janna.

  “Oh, leave the baby to cry,” Kelsie said. They walked back to the lodge.

  Painfully, limping on her blistered feet, she made her way to the back door. Elspeth stood inside in the washroom, a lighted lamp on a shelf beside her. Her hair fell across her shoulder in a golden braid. “What was all that caterwauling about?”

  Marlys hobbled out of the washroom to the lodge’s main room and pointed to Janna and Kelsie, across the wide space in their own beds. “They tried to kill me!”

  “Stop whining at once, or I’ll send you home!”

  Marlys stood agape.

  “Do you want to be a sorceress?” Elspeth demanded.

  Marlys found her voice. “Yes, that’s why I came here, but....”

  “And you took the oath of an apprentice, saying you would obey me until the high sorceress determined you were ready to go out in the world as a full sorceress, no matter what happened.”

  “Yes, but....”

  “Then if you’re ever going to do anything but those pitiful household spells, you’ll learn not to complain about anything that goes on in my household. Or I’ll release you from your oath and send you home. Do you understand?”

  She sighed. “Yes, Sorceress Elspeth.”

  “Very well, then.” Elspeth took the lamp and walked past her.

  When Elspeth disappeared into her private rooms, the main room became dark again. Marlys could hear Janna and Kelsie giggling from their beds. Marlys sighed. She again spelled the ball of light.

  “Begone!” Janna called. The light went out.

  No light, then. In a few minutes, though, Marlys’s eyes adjusted to the darkness. She could see well enough with what moonlight came through the windows. She limped to her bed and with her hands searched for her sack, the one she brought from home, the one holding all the possessions she had. Those included unguents that would help with the burns. One of the “pitiful household spells” her grandmother had taught her would soothe her skin and speed the healing. She got out a clean shirt to use as a nightgown, too—the one she wore had to be dirty, and possibly ripped. She would check it in the morning. At last, her clothes changed and her burns soothed, she settled back into bed, but not before she set another spell that would pinch the skin of anyone who came near—and, oh yes, she set the spell around her bag, too. Then she silently wept into her pillow. She expected her apprenticeship to be hard—everyone told her that being an apprentice, especially to a sorceress, was hard—but she did not expect it to be brutal. Was this a test, to see if she was resolved? Why had Elspeth, not to mention Janna and Kelsie, who she barely knew, been so cold? In any case, she was not going home. She would show them.

  The next morning, when she examined her legs and feet in the light of day, she found that they had already begun to heal. Once she put on a skirt under her shirt, and cushioned her feet by soft socks and supple leather shoes, she felt a bit better. Still, she walked slowly as she made her way to the washroom, carrying her dirty nightgown. She could see Janna and Kelsie watching her, but they said nothing and neither did she.

  A circular tub in the washroom held water. She drew some out with the bucket, poured it into the washing tub, and shoved her nightgown into it to soak. She went out the back door to the little house, and once done, came back to wash herself and the gown.

  When she came out of the washroom, gown in hand, Janna said, “Elspeth has gone for the day. You have to make your own breakfast.”

  Marlys nodded and draped the nightgown over the chair by her bed to dry. While she had joined Elspeth and Janna and Kelsie for meals at the main table the day before, she knew that apprentices almost always did their own cooking. Elspeth had already shown her around the lodge, showing her where she could and could not go, explaining what she could and could not do, defining what she could and could not use. What she could do was use any food in the kitchen, and any utensils. She went about cutting slices of cheese and bread, helped herself to an apple from the bin, and poured a cup of water from the pitcher. Any mischief with the food would inevitably affect Elspeth—not to mention Janna and Kelsie themselves--so Marlys felt safe eating it.

  After breakfast, she made her bed and sat on it. Marlys had been amazed when she had been shown where she was to stay; she did not expect such a cozy bed in a cozy room. Her corner had a window next to it. A colorful braided rug had been spread under the bed. There was a chest for her belongings (she had not yet unpacked), a chair next to it, and a stand next to the bed. The bed itself had a thick mattress with very few lumps. She had been provided with a pillow and warm bedding and quilts. Janna’s and Kelsie’s spaces, at the other side of the room, had similar accommodations. The lodge itself seemed to be made of the finest wood—walls, floors, and ceilings. The wi
ndows were of the highest quality and transparency. There was a fireplace, and, in the kitchen area, a hearth especially made for cooking.

  With nothing else to do, and wanting to spare her feet, she reached underneath the bed and brought out the sack. She unpacked her clothes and spread them on the bed, then unpacked her sewing kit, and last of all, her tools.

  “What are those?” Janna asked across the room. She and Kelsie had been watching Marlys silently all the time.

  “My tools.”

  “What do you need those for?” Janna asked.

  “I know how to fix a roof, make a table....”

  Kelsie chuckled. “We don’t do carpentry here!”

  “My mother and grandmother told me that becoming a sorceress was hard, but that the tasks were secret. So I learned everything I could, so that whatever hardship came on me, I could endure it. I lived a month in the forest by myself, hunting my own game, making my own shelter. I learned to cook and clean and make my own clothes. I accustomed myself to sleeping on the ground or on the floor. I....” Marlys turned. Janna and Kelsie laughed so hard they rolled on the floor, holding their sides.

  Janna caught herself first, and picked herself off the floor. “You fool! Nothing of the sort will help you here!”

  Marlys shrugged.

  Kelsie hauled herself up and sat on the bed. “Come over here and we’ll show you what being a sorceress really means.”

  “What will you do now, cut off my fingers?”

  Janna and Kelsie exchanged looks. “So, what if we did?” Janna said.

  “I’ll keep mine and stay here, thank you.”

  “So you think you’re too good to learn from us?”

  “I don’t think I’m any better or any worse than anyone else,” Marlys said. “But I doubt that I’d learn anything from you except cruelty.”

  “Oh, so now we’re cruel,” Janna said, with a glance toward Kelsie.

  “My father is a magistrate. If you did what you did to me last night in his district, you’d be in prison.”

  Kelsie clapped a hand to her heart. “Oooh, I’m so scared.”

  “Don’t you know that a sorceress and her apprentices are above the law?” Janna said.

  “I know,” Marlys said. “I was just saying the rules are different elsewhere.”

  “There’s a reason for that, which you’d find if you weren’t so stubborn,” Janna insisted.

  “Stubbornness is what gets you to where you’re going without giving up,” Marlys countered.

  “Or keeps you from getting to where you’re going,” Janna countered.

  Marlys did not answer.

  Sorceress Elspeth rode in before dinnertime, calling to Janna and Kelsie to help stable the horse. When they sat at table, eating—Elspeth at the head, Janna and Kelsie on one side to her right, Marlys to her left—Elspeth announced, “The Runge Estate has purchased the riverland from the Alseth Estate. The deed signing is tomorrow. We are invited. High Sorceress Thorne will be there.” Janna and Kelsie gasped with delight and turned to each other. Elspeth turned to Marlys. “Are you feeling well enough to come?”

  “Yes, Sorceress Elspeth,” she said humbly.

  “You must not make a commotion, do you understand?” Elspeth said sternly.

  “I understand, Sorceress Elspeth.”

  “No matter what happens.”

  “I understand, Sorceress Elspeth.” Marlys felt it best to stay brief and to the point.

  The next morning, Marlys found walking easier, almost normal. Elspeth escorted the others to a room in the lodge where she opened a chest. The chest was full of clothes. Janna and Kelsie squealed with delight as Elspeth took out long, silky gowns for them to wear. For Marlys, she brought out an attractive brocade, purple with yellow designs. It fit her small frame well. She brushed her dark curls to try to make herself as attractive as her clothes, though she knew that with her rugged features and square chin, she was more plain than Janna or Kelsie...and definitely more plain than Elspeth, a tall beauty.

  Marlys sat in the open coach, riding backwards, for the journey. Elspeth faced forward. Janna and Kelsie sat in the driver’s seat, Janna handling the horses. Elspeth used magic to speed their journey, so they could cross the long distance in less than an hour. The scenery flew by, as they passed from the woodlands to meadows, and then farm and pasture lands.

  They slowed to a normal pace near a crossroads, where an open pavilion had been set up. Underneath the canvas, Marlys saw a table and many chairs set up. There were perhaps three dozen people there, including a bunch of boys, probably eight or nine years old, commoners from their clothes—unremarkable, drab, one-piece tunics of rough cloth. Their footwear consisted of sheepskin tied around their feet and ankles with ropes.

  When the coach came to a stop, a handsome, well-dressed man helped them all out, Elspeth first. Marlys could see people staring at them from a distance, backing away to make the distance wider. She remembered the rare times she had glimpsed a sorceress when she was a child, and saw people giving the sorceress a wide berth. It had puzzled her then, and puzzled her now.

  High Sorceress Thorne sat in a high-backed, upholstered chair next to the table. Her dress had a stiff collar which encircled her neck, her head was crowned with gray hair bound with jeweled combs. The wrinkled face wore a stern expression. Elspeth walked up to her and stood beside her, motioning Janna, Kelsie, and Marlys to stand close by.

  Thorne motioned to the boys. Shyly, they walked up to the table opposite her. Stern men walked up behind them. The deed signing proceeded with all due ceremony, though it was a brief ceremony. After each of the principals carried off their papers, the stern men took out rods and began to beat the boys, who cried and yelped and struggled to get away, though they were held fast.

  Marlys’s mouth flew open in shock. Elspeth slapped her face, hard. Marlys put her hand to her cheeks, holding back tears. “I said, no commotion,” she hissed. Marlys was in too much pain to protest that she had not made any sound whatsoever.

  Thorne turned to Marlys, “Child, you must understand. The witnesses must be able to remember this event into their old age, and they will never forget the day they were beaten. It is necessary, just as the best way to teach someone to swim is to row them to the middle of a lake and throw them in.”

  Marlys, still holding her face, thought that she had learned to swim just fine without any such violence.

  Violence, however, seemed to be the way of the sorceress. With regularity, Janna and Kelsie attacked Marlys in every way imaginable. (The skin-pinching spell that Marlys had set around her bed did not deter them.) They dug a hole, threw her in it, and shoveled dirt on top of her. They threw a sack over her, tied it, and tossed her into a river. Each time, Marlys had to call on all her resources to get free, and only barely survived. If this was teaching, Marlys felt it was bad teaching—why not, rather, show her how to escape such situations first, and after that put her to the test?

  With no allies, and Elspeth showing no concern for her suffering, Marlys often thought of going back home. Her parents had told her that if the sorceress training was too hard, they would welcome her back with open arms. But Marlys knew in her heart, and in her soul, that she would never be satisfied with just doing “household spells.” Anyone with magic in the family could do those, if the secrets were passed from grandmother to mother to daughter. She wanted to be able to do what she had seen sorceresses do—heal mortal wounds, repel monsters, banish wildfires. But Elspeth never taught her any of that. The only way Marlys learned anything at all was watching and listening on the quiet days when Elspeth spoke to Janna and Kelsie. It seemed she was allowed to do that, because no one protested or prevented her when she did.

  Meanwhile, Marlys occupied herself with basic chores. No one seemed to mind that, either. She fetched water, chopped wood, hunted rabbit, mended clothes, cleaned the lodge, made dinner. The only time she got praise was for her cooking.

  One day, as she mended a chair with a broken leg out
side in the yard, she looked over and saw Elspeth with Janna and Kelsie. Kelsie wore an iron boot which Elspeth had heated—the pain, supposedly, to stimulate Kelsie’s magical ability. Elspeth had said that a true, trained sorceress needed no such “stimulation,” but apprentices needed it when learning. Marlys privately thought it ought to be possible to teach the use of magic without going through such trauma, but knew better than to voice such an idea.

  “Kelsie,” Elspeth said, “if you can’t get yonder hedgehog to turn and go back into the woods, how are you ever going to repel a monster?”

  Kelsie frowned and extended her arm. She made a face and grunted as if under some internal strain—or maybe the boot bothered her. The hedgehog, over by the garden, simply sniffed at the herbs and leaves.

  Elspeth sighed. “Then try slowing time around it, so that it will remain in place until you release it.”

  Taking a deep breath, Kelsie closed her eyes and extended a hand. The hedgehog nibbled at a leaf.

  Elspeth turned to her other apprentice. “Janna?”

  Janna grinned. She took a pair of tongs, clamped them on her left bicep—apparently to “stimulate” her ability--and made a motion with her right hand. The hedgehog froze. Elspeth nodded approval. Janna motioned again. The hedgehog went back to nibbling. Once more, Janna waved at the animal. Seemingly against its will, it turned and padded back into the forest.

  “You see, Kelsie?” Elspeth said. “You must feel the magic flowing through you.” She bent at the knees, and swept her arms down and then upwards as she straightened her legs. “From your feet to your head.” She spread her arms wide. “From fingertip to fingertip. Magic is in the ground, the air, the sky. Take it and use it.”

  Kelsie closed her eyes, as if in concentration, then took a breath. She opened her eyes and gestured toward the garden. The plants swayed as if blown by the wind—though the air was calm.

  Elspeth gave a slight nod of approval.

  Janna turned to her. “Better than that silly goose, Marlys, can do.”