The Cabin
Taking on an assignment can be a demanding task, both mentally and physically. It’s important to take care of yourself while away from the Crux.
Magical Tactics by Eroland Lockhart
THE TERRAIN GETS STEEPER over the next few days, but I don’t realize what good time I’ve made until I turn a corner and see Mount Singris looming through the trees, its jagged peak already topped in white.
The view never fails to stop me in my tracks, and a small laugh escapes me as I look down into the valley below.
Smoke rises from the small village that’s tucked cozily into the trees.
Airedale looks just like I remember. Like it’s been frozen in time these past two years. Feelings I’m not sure what to do with well up as I nudge Mo into a walk, heading down the hill towards my first stop: my da’s old cabin.
It’s a little ways out from town, nestled into the woods about a half mile off the main road.
It doesn’t take long to reach it, and while it seems like the town hasn’t changed at all, the cabin sure has.
The place had already been a drafty, leaky-roofed wreck when I left.
As if my da had been the last thing holding it all together.
Before Galiva fixed it, my arm had hurt too bad to properly repair the thatch roof, and now, after a few untended seasons, it’s collapsed on one side.
As I get closer, I see that the shutters are still tied closed with my own knots.
I pause outside of the door, my roiling emotions settling on grief at the sight of it. My da would be ashamed at the state of the place. No matter how little coin we had, he always made sure the cabin was put together. Yet another thing I’ve disappointed him in, I’m sure.
With a sigh, I push the door open. It smells of mildew inside. The old floorboards creak as I step onto them, and little feet scuttle under my da’s old bed where it still rests against the far wall. The roof has collapsed over mine, but fortunately, the stove and small kitchen aren’t blocked.
And my mother’s old plant journal is on the shelf over the table, right where I left it. I let out a breath as I grab it, my chest tight with an emotion I can’t quite name. I carefully wipe the dust from the old leather cover before I lean against the table to flip through the wrinkled linen pages.
It’s filled with sketches of plants that pluck at so many bittersweet memories.
I learned to read from this book. Though my mother’s voice has been lost to time, I remember her helping me sound out every letter.
Each picture is notated with her cramped handwriting, though the ink is so smudged in places that I can barely make out the words anymore.
After she left, I’d read through it so many times.
Used the journal to hold onto the memory of her.
Now, I hold onto the hope that maybe I missed something.
Forgot some crucial note she left that would give a hint of her plans.
But as I read, eventually my own unstable handwriting takes over across the pages and my hopes sink.
I’d forgotten that I’d used the last pages as a journal of sorts, and I can’t help but smile as I read the clumsy words of six-year-old me. It’s never more than a few sentences at a time, but it’s kind of funny to see the things I was concerned or excited about.
Went sleding with Waltar. Ran ento a tree. Got a cut.
I chuckle as I flip fondly through the short, scribbled entries. Then, I reach one that makes me look twice.
Da is sad again. Wunderd if I could find her. Da got mad at me for wan goen off.
I blink at the page, even as the memory of snow crunching underfoot floats back into my head.
It had come up to my shin, though my shin was a lot lower back then.
It was probably only a few inches deep, but I remember determinedly trudging through it, thinking I was about to embark on a grand adventure.
I’d been heading east, damn near blinded by the morning sun against the fresh snowfall. But for some reason, I was convinced I was gonna find her that way. Drawn deeper into the mountains like I was following some invisible trail.
My da had caught up to me around lunchtime, and I’d barely made it a mile. He’d given me a verbal thrashing and boxed my ear before he’d taken me back home. Yet on the way, he showed me exactly how he tracked me, pointing out my footsteps in the snow and broken branches I’d left behind.
I snap the journal closed even as a shiver of unease rushes through me. Like I’m being watched. There’s nothing here but memories, yet I still ask, “East, then?”
And I’m shocked when I get an answer.
East.
The word sends a chill straight through me. It plucks at another memory, and I wonder if I haven’t fully forgotten what her voice sounded like after all.
“But why, huh?” Anger snaps through me as I lunge to my feet. As if there’s anything but ghosts to face here. “Answer me that!”
I don’t get one. Fool on me for hoping I’d get a second response.
My anger fades, and a steady ache takes its place as I carefully pick through the debris of the ruined roof.
I thought I’d gone through all my da’s things when I left, but maybe I missed something.
I remember that my mother had left him a note, and with luck, he didn’t burn it to try and erase the memory of her.
I check the old dresser, the shelves over the stove, before I move on to the bedside table just to be safe.
I don’t know why I bother. I’d checked it before I left, emptying it of my da’s hunting knife and his leather armguard.
But desperation makes me open it again to find it still empty, though some creature has gnawed a hole through the bottom of it.
Except it’s not the bottom, and something... bright is down there.
The plank flips up as I press on one end of it, revealing the small, hidden space underneath. A false bottom. And in the small space, a piece of raw magiline glows like an impossibility.
My mouth drops open in shock. The rough chunk isn’t shaped into a marble or ring.
It’s just a raw, broken crystal, yet it has a sharp, pale look to it.
I reach out with shaking fingers to grab it, and in between blinks, I can almost see where it chipped from.
A marred edge on one of those crossed pillars.
Underneath the crystal, there’s a folded piece of paper. Time has made it brittle, but it stays together as I unfold it. It’s covered in the familiar, cramped letters of my mother’s handwriting.
Give this to him on his eighteenth birthday.
I’ll show him where to go.
I love you both.
The crystal falls from my numb fingers, clattering to the floor. For a moment, I just stare at the words, reading them over and over.
She left this for me. And my da took the knowledge of it to his grave.
For a moment, I’m not sure who I’m angrier at. Her for leaving without even telling me she was magic, or my da for hiding this from me for so many years.
Unless, maybe he had a good reason to.
Fear spreads icy fingers through me, and I shiver as that feeling of being watched returns.
It’s her. It has to be. Haunting me like a godsdamned specter.
“You got something you want to say to me, just say it!” I snap, loud enough that I spook a bird from where it’s roosted in the ruined thatch.
I don’t expect an answer this time, but I’m surprised when I get one. Just not from who I expected.
“Um... hello?”
I jump, scooping the crystal up and slipping it into my pocket as a familiar voice sounds from outside of the cabin.
“Walter?”
I throw the door open, and the man’s bearded face brightens in recognition.
“Dominai, you turn up in the damnedest of places,” he laughs before he walks forward, pulling me into a bear of a hug.
I’m a little dazed as he claps me on the back.
Last time we crossed paths was just outside of the Black Burrows two springs ago when we were hunting for Olbric.
“Did you ever find your wizard friend?” he asks as he releases me. “Hell, what was his name. Abric?”
“Olbric,” I say with a forced smile. “We did. We’re both on... an assignment of sorts right now.”
Walter chuckles as he looks me over. “Still can’t believe you actually did it, y’know?” he says. “When you said you were packin’ up and leavin’, we all thought - well...”
“You all thought I was bullshitting you,” I say with a grin. “Remember that redhead that asked me to escort her to Watervin a few years back?”
“‘Course. Hard to forget a looker like her,” Walter says, his grin wry as he scratches the back of his head.
“She was a wizard. She gave me an invitation,” I say, even as I think of Allisande now, in Marikadar for the peace talks. I keep my smile on as best as I can. “Took a little while for me to take her up on that offer.”
Walter chuckles as he looks me over. “Well, wizarding’s done you good, Dom. It’s good to see you.”
“Could say the same,” I say, and I can tell he worked a season in the Black Burrows just by the size of his arms. Then I remember why he was working the mines in the first place. “Your da’s herd recover? You didn’t have to work the mines again this season, did you?”
Walter waves a hand. “Nah, not this year. We’re still short a few heads of where Da wants to be, but we had five healthy ewe lambs in the spring.”
“Glad to hear it.”
Walter looks me over before glancing back at the cabin. “You just here to visit?”
“I - yeah,” I say, trying to ignore the magiline crystal in my pocket. “Was just looking to see if I’d left behind something I’ve been looking for.”
“Must’ve been important to come all this way,” Walter says. “Did you find it?”
My smile wavers a little as I slip my hand into my pocket, feeling the rough magiline against my fingers. “Yeah, I did.”
Walter gives me a curious look before he asks, “Where you staying?”
“Nowhere, yet,” I say. “This was my first stop. Was gonna swing by Janessa’s before I get back on the road.”
Walter tsks. “Sure you can’t spare a night? It’s a long road from Straetham.”
I shouldn’t. Nik’s likely closed the lead I had on him. Hopefully I’ve covered my tracks well enough to keep him busy, but I have no doubt he’ll catch up to me sooner rather than later. I can’t linger for long, and I still need to talk to Janessa.
Walter must see my hesitation before he says, “C’mon, at least stay for supper? I foraged some honeycomb mushrooms that Constance is going to make up with dinner.”
After so many days of nothing and no one to talk to, I realize I want the company. I’m heartsick from the thoughts about my da and my mother, missing the Crux now more than ever. I’m not ready to think about that note, the magiline in my pocket.
It would only be a few hours. I can talk to Janessa when I check in at the inn later tonight. Right now, good company seems like a perfect distraction, and besides... Walter’s my friend. It’ll be nice to catch up.
“You know what, I can spare a bit,” I say. “Thanks for the offer.”
“Good! C’mon then, I even got a jug o’ beer I’ve been waiting to break into,” he says, and I follow him away from my cabin. “Connie will be thrilled to see you.”