† The Salve

Her steps were slower now, as she tramped through the dark forest. There was no path for her to follow, and she was lost. A cracking sound from above her made her look up sharply, her heart pounding so hard it felt like it would simply leap out of her mouth.

It is nothing, she told herself, but even before she could finish that thought, a black shape detached itself from the shadows of the canopy and shot down the tree trunk to pounce on her. She bit back a scream, as she was bowled backwards onto the forest floor, sharp claws digging deep into her shoulders. Terrified, she only stared up helplessly at her attacker, a strange looking monkey with fur and skin of a shade made ghastly by the pale halo above its head.

It chittered, drawing its lips away from yellow teeth in a uncannily human sneer, then raised a grotesquely clawed paw to slash at her throat.

There was a swishing sound, then an arrow formed out of soft pure light sped out of the shadows to slam into the Zombie Lupin. It shrieked in pain, baring sharp yellow fangs as the arrow’s pure light clung onto the fur where it struck and rapidly consumed the Lupin’s body, unravelling the unholy enchantments that held its undead flesh together.

With one final screech, the weight of the Zombie Lupin disappeared off her chest in a dark cloud of evil smoke. Instead, there was a small straw figure where it had been, strange bits of cloth binding it into a roughly human shape. Throwing the Cursed Doll quickly off her chest, she scrambled to her feet.

Her fright from the Lupin’s attack not yet subsided, she screamed when a hand landed on her shoulder.

‘Calm down, little one. There is nothing to harm you now.’ A soothing voice spoke, sounding more persuasive than it had right to. There was a whispering in the air that nudged at her to listen to this voice and calm down.

‘Who are you?’ She turned. A middle-aged man stood there, the shadows of the forest chased away from him by the faint bluish light shining from a tiny sinuous dragon that floated above his head. He wore a floor-length robe embroidered with strange, shimmering characters that shifted across the dark cloth even when he stood still.

Pagans that killed with the mere twist of their fingers… Her eyes landed finally on the staff in his hands, the gnarled skull on top of the long length of petrified wood staring malignantly back at her. ‘I am here to guide you home.’ He held out an open hand with light calluses across the soft flesh of the palm.

‘I’m not going home.’ She shook her head and backed away, ready to run. Not home, where it had been comfortable even with the ever-persistent reminder of how she was different, always different. Not home, where they would bind her in ropes to await execution. Not home, back to what she had done to Ezek.

‘No, not Henesys.’ As if reading her thoughts, the man started to say. ‘ I can help you find your way from here-’

‘Don’t come nearer, or… or I’ll scream!’ she threatened.

‘I’d rather you didn’t. There are things around here that will gladly hunt you down once you show weakness. But if it makes you feel better.’ The man clapped his palms over his ears, letting his Kage drop to the forest floor as he squeezed his eyes shut. His dragon coiled around one of his wrists and hid its tiny head behind a scaly coil.

The pair looked so comical, she almost laughed. They did not seem dangerous, though she could sense an intense power in the man, amplified by the absolute control he had over it. The whispering in the air intensified, urging her to trust the man, but she recognised it as a persuasion spell now and steadfastly ignored it.

‘What do you want from me, pagan?’ she said.

‘Oh no. I can hear that. I need a spell for complete soundproofing, I do,’ the man stage-whispered to his dragon who rippled the gauzy wavy ridge on its back in agreement.

‘What for?’

‘Aren’t you going to scream?’ The man opened one eye, his dragon also peeking out of its coils.

‘No, not anymore.’

‘Good.’ The dragon took to the air again, as the man bent to pick up his Kage. He stepped further out of the shadows, so that she could see him better. ‘As I said, I am to show you the way from here.’

The dragon made its way to her, peering at her curiously with bright pale blue eyes. She stared back, for she had never seen a creature like that before. ‘What will do you with me?’

‘I could teach you how to live here, for starters. You obviously don’t have anywhere else to go.’ No, she did not. Not anymore. ‘I am here to provide you with a home and education.’

‘You don’t sound too enthusiastic about it.’

‘We all need to yield to the powers that be.’ The man shrugged. ‘It does not matter if I like it or not, you have nothing to lose if you agree.’

‘What sort of education can you give me?’

‘I know of the powers that you have, the ones that make the villagers call you witch,’ he simply said. ‘I can teach you to use them to help instead of harm.’

She did not speak at first, staring at the man. How could this stranger know? She did not think that she had seen him before, not that the villagers of Henesys would allow a pagan like him into the village. Then again, they would not allow a witch like her back into the village too.

There was truly nowhere else to go, for her.

‘Are there any catches in this?’

‘Well, I’ve heard of enjoyable transactions that involve pleasures of the particularly fleshy kind,’ he started thoughtfully. ‘But, being a Priest, indulging in carnal delights does such havoc to my skills.’ The dragon poked her dainty snout into his ear. ‘You would know, wouldn’t you, Nenya?’

The sound the man’s dragon made in response was a pure, clear note that sent a warm feeling down her throat, somehow making her feel at ease immediately.

‘My cottage is a much more comfortable place to admire Nenya, you know.’ The man watched her observing the dragon. ‘There’s a fire there, and nice cushy chairs…’

‘I’m hungry,’ she said suddenly, throwing all caution into the wind now. Persuasion spell or no, she trusted that this man would not hurt her.

‘How convenient. I’ve got Mushroom stew on the stove…’

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Acknowledgements: I cannot claim to be entirely original. This story is inspired by a short story of the same title by Gary Jones, as published in Sword and Sorceress VII. This author has merely taken a good yarn and rewoven it into a richer, Maple-esque tapestry. Of course, Wizet, you can’t sue me either.