A Witch and her Slave

The crescent leaf, which was a necessary ingredient for the pain relief balm, ordered by the village chief for his ailing mother, was exceedingly annoying to harvest. So much so that all the reputable apothecaries in the village had refused the chief’s order.

Naturally the burden fell on me. As an unlicensed herbalist with no backing, I could not be picky with my customers. Refusing this request from the village chief would grind my small business to a halt.

Crescent leaves were troublesome because during the day, the leaves were indistinguishable from the common ground weeds. Only at night, under the hue of starlight would the crescent leaves reveal themselves by emitting a faint white glow, lighting up patches of the forest floor.

That’s why I had no choice but to brave the dark forest in the middle of the night, alone. An activity that none of the other apothecaries dared to do. Of course I would prefer some company, but no one was stupid enough to enter the forest at night. Other than me.

Even hiring mercenaries to escort me was impossible because they flatly refused no matter how much silver I promised them. They had good reason to refuse too. Beasts with a taste for blood freely roamed these woods; they would make quick work of a girl like me. Especially now that war was being waged, and there was a lack of hunters to take care of the overflowing populations of monsters.

Gripping the handle of my smoking lantern, I carefully waded forward, my eyes darting from left to right at the slightest hint of movement. My heart was just as skittish.

The lantern was not only used to light the path, but to ward away beasts. Inside the shade, I was burning beastward: a gelatinous goo made of Unkfish tree sap and mashed bark worms. To humans, the smoke only smelled a little sour, but to beasts, the smell was foul; putrid enough to make them steer clear of a hundred lems.

The only weapon I owned was the thumb-sized blade I used to harvest herbs. Even if I had something substantial like a sword, I wouldn’t be able to wield it well. Hence, the beastward was my greatest defense against the creatures lurking in the dark. However, what I had left would not last until morning, so I needed to hurry. Unfortunately, nothing was going to plan on this wretched evening. After walking half the night, I still hadn’t found any crescent leaves.

I sighed, a tightness was beginning to spread across my chest. The deadline for giving the balm to the village chief was in two days time, and he wasn’t the type to consider excuses. Especially since his request for this balm had been turned down multiple times. Suddenly, something cold and wet brushed past my ankle, just below the hem of my skirt.

I froze. My heart hammered against my chest, like it wanted to break out of my body.

This wasn’t simply the feeling of wet leaves brushing against my feet. No. The texture was unmistakably viscous.

I slowly lowered the lantern with trembling hands, illuminating the ground at my feet. The light revealed a dark crimson smear on my ankle and lower calf.

Blood…

Blood was not good. The smell of it would draw in predators regardless of my beastward.

My heart sank to the pit of my stomach. There were a few village children who didn’t have homes or parents, maybe some of them were daring enough to sneak out of town and venture into the forest at night without protection.

Could this be their blood…?

My breath quickened as I raised my lantern, frantically scanning the area. The lantern light flickered as my grip tightened.

“Hello?” I whispered into the night, not daring to raise my voice any louder, “Are you hurt?”

I had to keep looking, but every second filled me with intense dread. At any moment my eyes could land on the horrifying image of a dead child lying face down in bloody grass.

I took a step forward, the fear nearly paralysing me. Then, I saw it—a figure slumped against a tree, barely visible in the dim light.

I stared at the shadowy figure for a long time, waiting for my heart to stop squeezing in my chest. I inched closer, holding the lantern high. As the light fell on the figure, I realised that it was not a child, but a man.

The yellow glow of the lantern washed over his battered body, sprawled against the base of a tree trunk, highlighting the littany of wounds, deep and shallow, marring his broad body. His head hung forward over his shoulders, causing his matted clumps of dark hair to conceal his face in shadows. Blood dripped down from the tips of his hair onto his thighs. Without a doubt, the blood on my ankle came from him.

“Who are you?” I whispered, more to myself than the unconscious man.

I knelt beside the him, purposefully putting myself just out of his reach. Judging by his large stature, he was a soldier, maybe even a mercenary. Underneath all that blood, the thick chords of muscle rolling down his arms and chest were evidence enough for what kind of life he lived. He was a fighter, a warrior.

Some of the gashes on his chest were particularly gnarly, a few were still trickling with blood.

Against my better judgment, my caution gave way to concern. I leaned forward and placed my finger underneath his nose. Warm breath wrapped around my finger in slow shallow bursts. He was alive. Barely.

I pulled back my hand. Eyeing him, a small part of me wanted to leave him there and continue my search for crescent leaves, but with the amount of his blood spilled, some of the hungrier predators might ignore the beastward in search of a fresh meal. Staying any longer in these woods could prove fatal. And I’m no saint, this man was nothing to do with me. I dont feel obliged to rescue him, but leaving a man to succumb to his wounds, and leaving a man to be eaten by beasts were two very different things.

With a resigned sigh as I placed the lantern on the ground. Lifting his thick arm around my shoulder, and supporting his back with my free arm, I gritted my teeth and tried to leverage him off the ground. Then, quickly gave up. He was as heavier than a tree trunk—impossible to move without magic.

I was by no means a mage, but my master was. And inbetween carrying out my chores and running errands, if i begged her enough she would teach me a few spells that would make my chores a little easier. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. My lips parted as I whispered the complex chant taught to me by my former master, the old witch of Brookwood. The intoxicating swell of dormant power surged within me. It leaked out from my lips and entwined with the words of my chant. With each passing moment, the man’s body got lighter and lighter until I could comfortably pull him off the ground. Instead of a giant tree trunk, he now felt as heavy as a large cooking pot filled with water. Manageable.

Although the pressure of his crushing weight was gone, I felt the blood drain from my face. The strain from using my master’s spells always took a toll on my me. Neverthless, I gritted through the discomfort. I retrieved the lantern from the ground and began the slow treck back to my cottage, lugging the unconscious man over my shoulder while remaining vigilant of my surroundings.