Chương 63: Chapter 62

My fingers ran over the smooth skin of the dark purple berry as I focused on the sense of aether within the small fruit. I could sense the homogenous spread of aether, weak as it was, within the tasty sphere and gently placed it into the bowl on the left in front of me before picking up the next berry. Magatha sat behind me, enjoying some tea with my mother and occasionally glancing over to check on my progress.

I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised that one of the main ingredients for the Scar Rejuvenation potions was a berry, since I knew for a fact that they had a berry flavour. Almost two weeks had passed since the night of the Necromancer's attack, and the buildings looked healed even if the people didn't. Brin now joined our sword lessons, and if the redheaded nine-year-old-girl often looked like she had been crying, well, the rest of us politely ignored that fact.

I had, out of foolishness, asked one time if she was alright. Brin had screamed at me that she was fine before running away. After that, I kept my mouth shut and pressed the girl as hard as I could while sparring, since she could always tell when I was taking it easy on her. The men working the mine had returned to their business, but the other miner who had died, not Brin's dad, was apparently the one with some basic blacksmithing training.

Instead, Martin showed up most mornings to smelt the previous day's silver ore down into the small ingots that I had spied through a window. Was I considering stealing one? Well, I wasn't not considering stealing one. After all, I still wanted the Path of Thievery since I was pretty sure it would be influenced by my Shadow Affinity. Fortunately, no one had come down with more than a sniffle or simple cold from the rat bites.

That particular success was largely attributed to Magatha's Disease Warding draughts and had endeared her to the new members of our growing community. That, and the work I was doing now. Nearly everyone had new scars from the Necromancer's attack, be they small scratches from the rats or teeth marks from the undead wolves. Apparently, in any of the nearby cities, potions for erasing scars were not cheap.

They were affordable, if you had a little extra leftover after a week of work, but they weren't cheap enough to indulge in unless you were slightly well off. Most people weren't in such a position. However, in our community, even though it could be argued that most of us were decently well off, Magatha was still selling the potions for a pittance. I had a guess as to why, my eyes drifting to a few new metal jars on the shelf.

They hadn't been there before the attack, and I had finally figured out what was in the sack Martin had carried away the day after the battle. I just needed to figure out how to broach the question and satisfy my curiosity. I placed the last berry down, this one in the right-hand bowl as the aether spread was skewed, which Magatha had told me meant that part of the berry was either under or overripe. Based on the lighter shade of the skin, my guess was on underripe.

"Done," I called out. Magatha stood, sashaying over to join me, her light blue skirt swaying around her ankles. The display was not for my benefit, and I saw my mother glance down at her tea. One day Magatha might stop trying to entice my mother, but that day was not today. The Hedge Witch looked at my two bowls with naught but a glance and then nodded her approval.

"You've gotten a lot better."

"I have!" I agreed, deciding that now was a great time to change the subject.

"What's in the metal jars?" Magatha's green eyes flicked to the jars in question before she looked at me with a raised eyebrow, her blonde hair loose and spilling around her shoulders.

"That's not—""Is it something from Hurin or from the Necromancer?" I asked, interrupting her objection. Magatha's eyes narrowed at me in annoyance.

"What makes you think it's that?" I smiled childishly as though I didn't realise I was annoying her.

"That's why you're giving everyone cheap potions, isn't it? Gramps traded you some things from the battle. I saw Martin carrying a big sack when he left with you the morning after the battle. But goblins aren't that big. I know, because I killed one. The sack Martin was carrying was way too big for that. It couldn't have been one of the miners' bodies because Brin told me how they buried them behind their houses.

Plus, I never saw the body of the goblin I killed or Hurin or the Necromancer and Etta told me how Gramps and her Dad killed it! And you told me how some animals or beasts can be used in alchemy so I figured you wanted them to advance your Class Path! So, am I right? Is that what's in the jars? Why are they metal?" Magatha kept opening her mouth as I spoke, but I just kept on talking, my ideas and musings spilling out with childish exuberance. At some point, I saw defeat enter her eyes and knew I had won.

Behind her, I caught my mother smirking for a moment before she hid it with her mug of tea just as Magatha glanced behind her. The Hedge Witch sighed.

"Fine. Yes. There are parts of Hurin, and the Necromancer, and the demon-possessed goblin." I blanched, but it was my Mother who spoke.

"The what?"

"The small goblin," Magatha replied, walking over to the shelf and pulling down one of the metal jars.

"It had overdeveloped claws in place of the usual tough nails of a goblin. A common sight in creatures possessed by a demon." My thoughts drifted back to the crow that attacked me, and the rat, then more of its brethren in the Necromancer attack. The creature had said I was pretending… did that mean it could sense the lingering presence of the demon I had absorbed? It even called me a 'Prince of Shadow'. All those years ago, hadn't the notification said I had defeated a Lesser Demon Prince?

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Magatha seemed to take my reaction as fear rather than worry as she unscrewed the metal lid of the jar and used a pair of tongs made from the same material to pull out an eyeball that was floating in the medicinal smelling liquid inside.

"An eye of a demon-possessed. Demons are naturally hard to scry or track. This can be used to create an Evil Eye ward. It'll strengthen the protections on my cottage once I am done with it — at least for a year or two."

"Okay. But why is it in metal and not like a glass jar?"

"Reduces the aether bleed," she answered as she placed the eye back inside the jar and screwed the lid on tight.

"Surprised Cornelius hasn't had to explain that to you given how many questions you ask." She was placing the jar back on the shelf when I asked my next question.

"What about Hurin?" Magatha tapped one of the other jars without a care in the world.

"He's in here."

"But wasn't he your friend?"

"He was," Magatha agreed.

"Which is why I know he wouldn't want his death going to waste. There are a few very useful potions that can be created from the body of someone who has died to the death affinity."

"Like?" I demanded.

"Last question?" Magatha replied with an unamused stare.

"Last question about the jars," I offered.

"Fine. A Spirit Communion draught. It's the core ingredient in a ritual for communicating with dead Witches and one of the few ways I have of growing my knowledge without leaving my home for a gathering." Her green eyes flared, daring me to ask about the ritual. I decided not to press my luck and changed the subject again.

"With Hurin gone, how will you get some of the materials you need for your alchemy?" Mum answered in lieu of Magatha, whether to head-off the Hedge Witch's annoyance or just to join in the conversation, I couldn't have said.

"She'll have to come by the outpost and put up requests like normal people do." Magatha took that as a sign to start flirting with Mum as she gave me basic instructions for how to prepare the berries for the Scar Rejuvenation potion. The rest of the morning was spent making the alchemical base for the potions along with cleaning up afterwards, which was apparently now my job. Then Mum and I were off with the midday sun, headed back towards the outpost.

The sun was out, with a crisp gentle breeze blowing by us down the road as Mum and I walked side by side. I knew I could be working on my Path of Running, but after nearly dying and seeing my Mother injured, I just felt like enjoying her company.

"Do you think more people will move near us?" I asked.

"Probably, sweetheart. Even with the Horndale Mining Co. being tightlipped on how much silver they think is in their mine, it'll probably draw in at least one of the noble Houses on either side of the pass. Do you remember their names?" She smiled at me as though she wasn't quizzing me on her lessons, but I couldn't be annoyed with her. She was a great Mum, and I was a lucky son.

"Umm, the Houses or the cities they rule from?"

"Both."

"Well, in Meravia to the west, the city is Drevorn, and I think it's House Landrin that rules it?" I said, turning my answer into a question.

"Mmmhmm," Mum acknowledged.

"And their title?"

"Dukes!"

"It's Ducal, my little man. Go on."

"Alright! To the East, in Ajinar, it's Dinalby. That's the city! And it's ruled by House Firthholm. They're Counts!"

"County is the title. House Firthholm will probably arrive first. Warden Thomas serves Ajinar, and when he left to report the Necromancer, he would've gone to Dinalby. He'll include information on the new silver mine as well. If House Firthholm is sending anyone, then they'll probably arrive in the next few days. It's a week's walk to Dinalby with children, and at least a few days back on horseback."

"What does that mean for us?" I asked.

"Not much, sweetheart. We're with the Adventurer's Society, so as long as we stay out of their way, they won't bother us." I looked down the road, wondering just how true her words were. After all, wasn't Gramps banished out here to the middle of nowhere because of something to do with the nobility? I was still worrying over how my life might change when we heard the sound of rocks and dirt crunching beneath metal rimmed wheels.

"Ho, the walkers!" called the teamster of the lead wagon, a tanned and wrinkled middle-aged man with dust on his face from the two horses kicking up dirt.

"Ho, the caravan!" my mother called back as we moved to the side to let them pass.

"Headed for the Adventurer's Society outpost?" he asked as he pulled closer.

"We are," Mum answered, though I could feel her tensing slightly next to me.

"Well then, if the boss doesn't object, feel free to jump on and I'll give you a ride the rest of the way." His smile wasn't exactly lecherous, but I still didn't like the way he looked at Mum. We were spared having to answer as someone stepped out from between the first and second caravan.

"That's the Factor's daughter and grandson, Pelus. Mind yourself." The words were flat, but the growl behind them was unmistakable as I recognised the wolfkin who had spoken them.

"Nazim!" I called out. The wolfkin waved at me lazily, his grey-blue fur glossy in the dappled light. With his sword still sheathed on his hip, he fell in beside us, and we walked together towards the outpost. I tried once or twice to engage Nazim in conversation, but each time he rebuffed me, warning me to wait till we were settled at the outpost. He took his job as guard very seriously apparently, or maybe he just found me annoying. As we got closer to the outpost, I could hear shouting down the road.

Nazim growled slightly as though preparing for a fight, but when we came around the corner in the road, the wolfkin settled down. Men in dust-caked, full plate armour sat astride towering horses facing down Brin's mother as she yelled at a smaller figure atop a white stallion. The heraldry, a towering black tree on a background of white, proclaimed what I had already guessed. House Firthholm had come to claim what they believed their due. Whether I liked it or not, my entire world was about to change.