Chapter II.15 #3
He snaked an arm over Miria’s shoulder, and Miria decided she’d had enough.
Adaline wasn’t going to be able to intimidate these men by brandishing the sword, and while she was good with it (in so much as Miria could tell these things), Miria didn’t know how she’d fare against two men armed with axes if it came to actually trading blows.
Nor did she want Adaline to experience the trauma of finding out, regardless of the outcome.
Just as importantly, one of the men had touched her, and she did not like it one bit.
“I said LEAVE.” Miria summoned her power to her fingertips and tongue, calling upon the trees to aid her.
A crack reverberated around the treetops, and a large branch dropped from above.
It landed between the two men, mere inches from them both, sending them each shouting as they scattered backwards in alarm.
Miria sliced through the air next, calling on the wind, concentrating it, focusing it—easy in her anger—and the gust knocked them both to the ground.
Dirt, pine needles, and leaves landed on them like a burial shroud.
The men scrambled for purchase and found none as the wind shoved them another ten feet down the path, their bodies careening over roots and loose stones.
Miria heard Adaline cry out behind her, but as she’d already gone this far she saw no point in leaving the job half finished.
“Conceal us,” she whispered to the forest.
And the forest did. The fog rolled in from all sides.
The trees seemed to close in around her, Adaline, and Pearl.
The breeze hushed and the woods creaked, the men’s muffled grunts and groans were swallowed by the silence.
Then Adaline’s horse made a sound of fear, and that told Miria she needed to stop.
There was nothing left for her to do anyway. The men were gone.
Miria lowered her hands, and only now that the threat was gone did her heart start to pound. Now she had to face Adaline.
How did she explain this? Did she assure Adaline the men would be fine, if a little bruised and scraped?
That they’d lick their wounds and likely concoct a fantastic tale that painted them as heroes to share with their friends over cheap beer?
Did she lie to Adaline, try to make her disbelieve the evidence of her own senses?
There were spells she could cast to help her forget.
No, she couldn’t do that. Not to a friend. But she had to say something, so Miria turned, wishing she had a spell to help her craft honest but acceptable explanations or excuses. Ones that would appease and not frighten Adaline.
She should have known better.
“Are you the witch?” Adaline asked.
Miria gaped at her. Adaline had never given any hint that she’d heard about the witch in the woods. Miria hadn’t even thought word of the witch would ever reach the lord’s manor.
“Is that a bad thing to ask?” Adaline rushed on.
“Do you not like to be called a witch? What about sorceress or enchantress—are those better? Please don’t be angry at me!
I already suspected it, but I didn’t know how to broach the subject, and what you did was amazing.
Like something out of a story. Truly. Can you show me more magic? ”
“Um,” said Miria when Adaline paused for breath. “Are you all right? Did those men harm you before I arrived?”
Adaline stared at her a moment as though she’d already forgotten the men. “Oh, those wretches. Yes, I’m fine if you are. I don’t care to think more about them. Honestly forget them. Tell me about you. Are you the …” She trailed off, allowing Miria to fill in her preferred term.
Miria took a deep breath. As often as she’d wished she could tell Adaline the truth, she’d never imagined how she would do it. It wasn’t something she’d allowed herself to seriously contemplate. “Yes, I’m the witch. A witch anyway. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to frighten you.”
“You didn’t. Don’t.” Adaline belatedly seemed to realize she was holding her sword, and she re-sheathed it.
“I mean, I’ve heard stories about witches being awful, hideous old women who steal blood and eat babies, but you’ve never been awful, and you’re not hideous or even old, and you eat just like I do.
You’ve never given me any reason to be afraid.
So once I started to suspect, I realized that if you’re the witch, then the tales I’ve heard must be wrong.
” Adaline drew a deep breath. “Which is hardly surprising. You should hear the nonsense people say at court; they’ll lie about everything if they have something to be gained by it. ”
In spite of everything, Miria’s lips twitched. Yali would, no doubt, warn her to be very careful, and she ought to impress upon Adaline the need for secrecy, but Adaline’s excitement was infectious—as it usually was. In this moment, Miria had a hard time worrying.
“You’re nothing like I heard a noble lady would be,” she replied. “I suppose we can’t believe everything people tell us.”