Chapter 10 What Could Possibly Go Wrong? #3
When she finished and Agnes had run out of questions, they sat in silence.
After a few moments, Agnes closed her eyes and sighed deeply.
She stood from her chair without a word and walked to the front door.
She locked it and proceeded to close the shutters.
“We have a lot to discuss, and not a lot of time.”
“So, you mean to tell me,” Hazel said, “that the King struck some kind of deal with the Aetherial gods to protect us, but the lands had to be stripped of magic in return and we had to forsake all others? Who did we need protecting from, exactly?”
Agnes shrugged. “One of many questions I’m afraid we don’t have the answers to.
He declared the alliance was to protect Aeos from the Outer Kingdoms, claiming war was looming over us.
But it made little sense. Aeos was one of the most magically adept kingdoms in the world.
Few could have challenged us and posed an actual threat. ”
Hazel sat back in her chair and released a breath in an audible whoosh.
“And our Border. It’s made of the magic people have donated over the years, and it’s weakening because there are fewer and fewer…
donations. So that’s how the Striga got through.
” She was trying to piece everything together.
Pa had told her none of this, and her heart threatened to leap out of her chest. “Is-is that also why my magic is… manifesting? Because the dampening wards are failing along with the Border?”
Agnes nodded. “Possibly, but I do have another theory… About this magic of yours. Have you accessed it since then?” Hazel shook her head. “Want to try?”
“Here?”
“It’s as safe a place as any. We don’t have to, though.” Agnes shrugged, feigning indifference. “I just thought I’d ask. I could likely help you, if you needed.”
“I just don’t understand how or why I have it. All my life I’ve been ordinary. I’ve stayed out of trouble and done as I’m told. Now, I’ve got this-this scar on my entire being… like some abomination.” She dropped her head into her hands.
A warm, soft hand came to rest on her shoulder. She lifted her head.
Agnes’s eyes were shining. “This is what you were made for, dear. You’re the furthest thing from an abomination. And… there’s something else you should know.”
Hazel leaned in, eager to hear what would come next.
“I want to tell you about your mother. I wonder, how much has your father told you about her?”
“As much as he knows, I suppose? Which I would assume is everything. She was bright, kind, and strong. She was a steward of the land and had a way with plant life. I know she loved me, and even though she’s no longer with us, I can still feel her presence.
” It made her feel warm inside to talk to someone else about her mother. A weight lifted.
But Agnes looked displeased, her lips slightly downturned. “You’re not wrong, dear, but there was so much more. She had powers, Hazel. And she was both gentle and fierce, just like you.”
Powers. Hazel shivered and her chest swelled with pride. She’d waited her whole life to hear more about her mother. She’d never expected Agnes would be the one to tell her.
Agnes continued. “When the pact was made, the strongest witches had to seek asylum elsewhere. This was prior to the Dampening going into effect, you see, so many of them could get out before the Border was strengthened. Your mother, however, stayed.”
Something twisted inside of Hazel, wrenching her heart. Witch.
“She wanted to make sure you were safe and raised outside of the influence of magic. She thought she could pass as a normal woman. But we learned the King had sent his Bloodseekers to seek out magic-wielders in hiding and knew the risk was too high. He keeps fewer of them in his service now, but the Bloodseekers use magic of their own to sense wards and veils. It’s a type of dark magic, truly evil stuff.
Anyway, she couldn’t stay. You would be safe because you were so small.
No one knew if you were gifted, but even if you were, it would have been too little to sense.
So, she was going to leave you with us.”
Hazel’s feet bounced nervously under the table. Control. She needed to control herself.
“She waited until they arrived to draw as much attention to herself as possible. We all watched in quiet horror as she mounted her horse and tore off toward the tree line, drawing them away from town and allowing the stragglers, ill, and elderly to escape to safety… and protecting you.”
She couldn’t. This was too much. But she steeled herself, biting her lip so hard she tasted blood.
“But what about the baby she had? Pa said… he said she died giving birth to my little sister. That neither of them made it. If what you’re saying is true…”
Agnes watched Hazel quietly as she processed the information.
Then she reached for her hands, cupping them in her own.
“Connall Callahan was married to a woman named Briar,” she said softly, “and she did die in childbirth. With a daughter he named Rose. But Briar was not your mother. And Connall…” Agnes trailed off.
Hazel could still feel Agnes’s eyes trained on her, though. She looked up and found an expression full of fear and awe awaiting her. Her locket was so hot, she thought it might burn through her shirt… and was that light reflecting in her eyes? Oh, gods, no.
She looked down at her hands. She was glowing again.
Except this time, she had nowhere to channel the sudden rush of power surging up from its source.
It was begging for release. Her skin wanted to split from the building pressure and her head throbbed.
She mouthed “help me” to Agnes, who, realizing how immediately dire this situation had turned, was already out of her chair and frantically searching for something in her wares.
The cottage erupted in blinding light as a powerful force tore free from Hazel. Agnes was knocked back against her shelves in the blast. Trinkets and talismans were scattered, the table overturned, and the crystal sphere was on the ground, split in two.
Agnes righted herself, visibly unharmed except for the slow trickle of purple blood coming from her nose. Hazel was on her hands and knees, completely drained and unable to stand.
There was a commotion outside, men shouting, and Agnes—suddenly very spry—flew into action. She wiped her nose on her sleeve and righted the table on her own. Then she grabbed Hazel’s wrists and pulled her into the chair.
Something was wrong. Someone else was there.
“Hazel,” she breathed, snapping her fingers. “Hazel, look at me. Come on. Come back to me. We don’t have time. You broke the wards. We aren’t safe.”
She remembered what she’d been looking for then and dropped to the floor, searching. She found the small vial, and with renewed vigor, forced it into Hazel’s mouth, draining the contents down her throat.
Hazel came to just as three fully armored guards busted down the cottage door and rushed in. Hazel recognized immediately they were not regular knights. These three were members of the Raven Blade. Shit.
Both women were instantly on their feet as the men surrounded them. Thankfully, Hazel no longer glowed with aetherial light, and there was essentially no proof they’d done anything wrong—if the guards ignored the trashed interior.
Agnes spoke first. “Can we help you, sirs?”
The first guard spat. “A bright light just exploded from within this cottage. Care to explain?”
“Oh, you saw that? Well, it’s quite embarrassing!
You see, this young woman came in seeking a fertility tea, but, well…
I must admit in my clumsiness I knocked over a couple of mineral powders that aren’t meant to be mixed.
Now you see why, it seems.” Agnes did her best to look bashful and ashamed.
Her face was convincing. The story? Not so much.
The knight curled his lip in disgust. He grabbed the discarded vial from the table, smelling it. Hazel could see between the fear in her eyes and the way her already pale skin blanched, Agnes was worried about the vial. Before she could say anything, Agnes reached out to snatch it back.
But the knight was faster. He whirled on Agnes, sending her flying across the room with a backhanded slap—his hand encased in an iron-plated gauntlet.
Agnes slumped to the floor, bleeding from her eyebrow to her cheekbone, eyes beginning to blacken.
Hazel erupted with fury. “No! No, please!” she shouted at them. “She’s a harmless woman, can’t you brutes see that?”
They ignored her.
She shrieked, hurling herself at the knight. Surprising both herself and him, she landed a blow before he could react. But it only angered him.
The knight grabbed her by the neck and lifted her into the air as she clawed at the iron, to no avail.
She tried to reach down into whatever emotional recess housed her powers, but once again, they were empty.
Or perhaps the bitter liquid Agnes had forcibly dumped down her throat had something to do with it. Probably for the best in that case.
The other two knights approached, each grabbing one of her flailing, clawing arms. She was lowered to her feet. Then the first knight backhanded her the same way he had Agnes, and she was thrown to the ground, screaming in pain.
Please, please don’t let me die like this.
As she rolled and writhed, a figure stepped over her, placing a steel-plated sabaton heavily on her chest. He’s going to crush me.
Instead, another knight wound up his leg and kicked her square in the ribs with his iron-clad foot, causing her to scream again and cough uncontrollably. Blood ran from both her nose and mouth steadily, the warmth and sickly copper tang gagging her.
Through narrowing vision, she stared at Agnes’s motionless form, still lying in a heap where the big brute had dropped her. She was so still. Too still. But then, there was the slightest flicker of her eyelids and the old woman’s chest rose and fell, though shallow.
Hazel reached out for her with a shaking, battered arm. “Agnes,” she gasped, barely over a whisper.
A barrage of kicks followed.
And again.
And again.
At some point, she went numb to it all, instead focusing her attention on Agnes’s breathing. Just hold on, Agnes. Just hold… on. She wouldn’t be able to live with the alternative.
In… out.
In… out.
In…
Then, everything faded to black.