4.

  Faelwen

  The days blurred together, lost to the fever that kept me bedridden. I drifted in and out of sleep; when I woke, the world spun and my head throbbed.

  The small wounds on my body had begun to fester. I vaguely remembered a cool cloth being placed on my forehead and a cup brought to my lips. I drank deeply, hearing Thalor’s calm voice nearby.

  “You’ll be alright. Just drink slowly,” he said softly, though I was barely coherent enough to respond. Time seemed to stretch, and I lost track of how many days passed.

  Then one morning, I woke up more alert than before, my voice no longer just groans of pain. I managed to speak.

  “How bad is it?” The sound of my own voice startled me; it was hoarser then I remembered. Thalor, who had been gathering clean bandages, turned to me with a steady expression.

  “Not bad anymore. The wounds are healing, and your fever’s broken.”

  As he started to replace the bandages on my shoulder and stomach, I realized something that sent a jolt of fear through me.

  Thalor was not a magi. How could he understand my bond with Artemis? And what if he found out I could communicate with him?

  “Where is Artemis?” I asked, anxiety gripping me.

  Thalor glanced at me, his face unreadable.

  “Artemis is fine. His leg was broken in the battle, and the wound got infected, but I’ve been treating him too. You’re both lucky, lass. I’ve seen my share of battle wounds. But listen, you need to be more careful. About that wolf. About choosing your battles.”

  He sighed and gave me a weary smile, one devoid of any warmth. “Gwen, my wife, will bring you some food later. Stay still while I finish these bandages.”

  I let go of the breath I was holding and dropped my shoulders, staying as still as possible for Thalor to finish wrapping me up.

  As he worked, I caught my first real look at the wounds. They resembled deep scratches, like those from a wolf’s claw. The flesh was red and bloody, but the blood looked clean. I couldn’t help but wonder how Artemis was faring.

  “I’d like to see him,” I said quietly. Thalor didn’t even look up.

  “He’s resting by the fire in the living room. But neither of you should be moving around just yet. Give your body time to heal.”

  With that, he tucked the blanket around me as though I were a child and gave a brief, emotionless smile before leaving the room.

  “Wait!” I called out to him. “Why help us?”

  With one hand on the door Thalor turned his head to me.

  “We once had a daughter with a gift for magic. And I wished others were there for her when she was wounded far from home,” he answered. A flicker of grief on his face before closing the door behind him.

  It made so much sense now. I felt a pang of sadness for Thalor and Gwen. Losing a child, I couldn’t imagine how painful that must have been.

  The room I lay in was small but bright. A large window next to my bed let in the pale winter light, the curtains pulled aside to allow the morning sun to filter in.

  The smell of fresh, cold air filled the room, and the bed was comfortable, covered in white linen. I breathed deeply, pulling the blanket closer. And tried to relax despite the lingering aches in my body.

  Closing my eyes, I reached out with my mind, trying to connect with Artemis.

  Artemis, are you there buddy? I sent the thought out, hoping for a response.

  I’m still here, Wen, his voice echoed in my mind, bringing a wave of relief over me.

  Are you alright? I asked, the concern evident in my thoughts.

  I will be, he replied, What happened in the cave, Wen? I thought your magic was blocked.

  I thought about it for a moment. He was right, my magic had felt stifled, yet I could still communicate with him. If my magic was completely blocked, how are we still talking?

  Maybe it’s only part of your magic that’s blocked, he mused. Like Barnabas said. As if you’re wearing gloves and the water of the Weave slips through only leaving drops.

  Yes, that would explain it, I agreed. But should I now find a teacher?

  No! Artemis interrupted firmly. We stick to the plan. I don’t care that you took those books. We’re going to look for Barnabas and head to Andw?ne Mere to figure out what he was up to. After that, we’ll decide.

  I couldn’t help but smile at his resolve, though I wasn’t surprised he already knew about the spell books I had taken. Artemis always knew more than he let on.

  Just then, the door creaked open, and a middle-aged woman entered carrying a tray of food. Her brown hair, streaked with grey, was tied back.

  She wore a simple white-and yellow dress. And smiled kindly as she set the tray down.

  “Hello, love. I’m Gwen,” she introduced herself.

  “Hello, Gwen. I’m Faelwen,” I replied with a smile. As she prepared to leave, I asked, “What day is it?”.

  “It’s the 13th of the fifth moon,” she said before stepping out. Seven days. I had lost seven days to the fever.

  Seven days of rest, Artemis corrected in my mind. And the food is excellent here. I even like the woman, she gives me treats.

  I chuckled. Just don’t get too fat, Artemis, I responded to him. For now, I focused on resting, eating the bread and hot soup Gwen had brought. It was indeed delicious.

  ? ? ?

  Morning came gently, as though the world itself had decided not to jolt me from sleep this time. A clean current of energy stirred beneath my skin. The kind you only feel after a body has fought its battles through the night and finally healed.

  I dressed quickly, the floorboards cool under my feet, and padded down the stars. The soothing clatter of pans found my ears. Gwen’s presence was unmistakable even before I saw her.

  Every sound she made seemed infused with comfort. The scent of fruit, baked crust, and something floral drifted toward me like an embrace.

  The living area unfolded before me as I walked through the door. Plants spilled over shelves and hung from beams like green waterfalls. Sunlight pooled on the soft green carpet.

  And by the fireplace Artemis lay stretched luxuriously, his coat aglow in the firelight. As if he belonged here.

  To my right, the wooden round table nearly overflowed with food. Fresh pie steamed, the scent sweet and tangy. The whole room smelled of olives, fresh bread and comfort. So similar to the life I’d lived that it made my heart ache a little.

  Gwen emerged from the kitchen humming a tune. Her apron dusted white with flour, cheeks rosy from the warmth.

  “Ah, good, you’re awake,” she said brightly. “Grab some breakfast, love.”

  She set a steaming bowl before Artemis, and he let out a pleased little grumble that made her laugh. I rolled my eyes.

  “He’s never this well-behaved for me,” I chuckled.

  “He’s clever,” she said, smirking.

  I moved toward the table, filling a plate with freshly baked rolls as I asked, “Where’s Thalor?”

  “Out on the field,” Gwen replied, settling into a chair by the fire. She watched Artemis lick his bowl clean with intensity that bordered on reverence.

  “I must say… I’ve never met anyone who travels with a wolf. And certainly not a wolf who behaves more like a spoiled dog.”

  “Yes, well,” I grinned, “he’s always been… different. A little smaller, a little less wild.”

  She laughed, a gentle and bubbling sound.

  “We’re happy to have you both. When Thalor told me he’d sent you out after that beast…” she huffed, folding her arms, “I could have skinned him alive. Sending you off like that! It was like sending our own daughter into danger.” Her face softened.

  “She was about your age, you know. Mid-twenties when she left and never came back.”

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  “I’m sorry for your loss. Thalor told me about her,” I murmured.

  She waved it off quickly…too quickly.

  “We’ll see her again when it’s our time to leave this world. Until then, we keep living.”

  The kitchen door creaked open again and Thalor entered, covered in snow, jacket dripping. He didn’t bother with a greeting before stealing a slice of pie off the table.

  “So, lass,” he said around a mouthful, “you’re healed. And… staying a few weeks, you said?”

  “Yes.”

  He scratched his beard, eyes narrowing. “You know we don’t have much. With taxes and all…”

  “I know. But I can hunt. That’ll save you coin from the butcher. I can gather herbs, too, and I can work at the tavern. Just until I find the person I’m searching for.”

  There was a plea in my voice I couldn’t quite hide. Gwen and Thalor exchanged a look. A whole conversation passed wordlessly between them.

  Finally Gwen nudged him. “Oh, come now, Thalor. Give the girl a place to stay. We’ll manage. We always have.”

  Thalor sighed, defeated. “Fine. But you will find work.”

  Relief made my knees weak. “Thank you. Truly!”

  This small corner of the world felt like a place to breathe again. A warm, safe place anchored by hospitable hands.

  ? ? ?

  Weeks turned into months, and slowly the rhythm of the farm shaped our days.

  Artemis and I combed the region from snowbitten mountains to the foam-crowned sea. We sought footprints, stray clues, even the ghost of a trail. Nothing answered us.

  No sign of Barnabas.

  No whispers of the Hunters.

  Not even the faintest rumour to cling to.

  Sometimes I caught myself cursing the map Barnabas had created. Cursing him for leaving me like that. But I knew he was out there somewhere. I had to keep faith.

  I dared not return home. Not with the Hunters still prowling. Word in the tavern was that they’d been seen passing through, asking questions about a novice mage.

  My blood had run cold at that. But they had no description of this novice mage. No name. Not yet.

  While I searched, life fell into routines. Thalor insisted I learn to wield a sword “properly,” as he phrased it. And soon the courtyard ran daily with the clash of steel and his booming growl of disapproval as he realized I had no knack for it. But that didn’t stop me from practicing.

  Gwen taught me to forage, cook and even to coax stubborn plants into growing in the cold soil. Bit by bit, something fragile formed between us. A bond that felt dangerously close to family.

  On the twenty-third of the sixth moon, they surprised me with a birthday celebration. Gwen backed her finest cake, and we stayed up until dawn. Laughing in a room that smelled of cinnamon and flowers. It was a night etched forever into the softest part of my memory.

  But deep down, I slowly realized I couldn’t stay here forever. That morning, Artemis told me there was still a chance, a thin and stubborn thread, that Barnabas had fled toward the Andw?ne Mere. To either go into hiding or continue his quest he had begun long ago. I agreed.

  And so the day came we had to leave. Sooner than we expected.

  It was the twenty-eighth of the eighth moon, a bright and clear morning. I was chasing Artemis across the fields, laughing as he harassed a goose, when I saw Thalor returning from the market with his horse cart.

  Something seemed wrong. His face was drawn, his expression grave. He didn’t wave back when I greeted him, and that alone filled me with dread.

  As I approached, he whispered, “They’ve come for you. The Hunters.” He held up a pamphlet with my face on it and the words “Wanted”. Panic tightened my chest. Behind me, Gwen appeared, her face pale.

  “Listen closely, Faelwen. They know what you look like. You must go, and quickly. Avoid the cities. Seek out other magic users.”

  “I knew the time would come for me to leave. Still, it shocks me how long it has taken them to find me,” I responded. Had they caught Barnabas and now focused on me? Thoughts churned in my mind as I followed Thalor inside.

  “They must’ve had something else on their mind,” he responded, increasing my worries on Barnabas’s wellbeing.

  Inside the house, Thalor and Gwen handed me a small, prepared pack. Thalor pulled out his sword from an old chest, a gift he had meant to give me when our training was complete.

  He placed it in my hands, his voice choked with emotion. The sheath of the sword was beautifully decorated with small oaken leaves.

  “Stay alive, lass.” Thalor looked away, jaw tight, as if letting me go was the only option left to him.

  “I’ll do my best,” I said as I took the sword and fastened it on my back. Thalor handed me my bow and quiver full of arrows and took a step back.

  “You have a brave soul, lass. May it guide you in dark times ahead.” He smiled. I smiled back and gave both of them a hug.

  “You’ll always be welcome here,” Gwen added with a teary smile.

  “Thank you for giving me a safe place to stay for the winter.”

  With a heavy heart, I turned towards the door. Before leaving the house I looked back one more time. I touched my heart and gestured towards them with a cupped hand, as if to say “you have my heart”.

  A gesture of goodbye I’d been taught by my mother. They smiled at me, standing side by side. I had a strange feeling I wouldn't be seeing them again and something in me felt a pang of sadness at that thought.

  As I left their farm behind, I couldn’t help but feel like I was leaving a piece of myself behind too. Artemis trotted beside me as we set off for Andw?ne Mere. Guided by the map and the stars and unsure of what awaited us ahead. But knowing that we couldn’t turn back.

  ? ? ?

  We avoided the main route and travelled through the grass fields. The Andw?ne Mere was a grand lake ending in the ocean, north of Westray, the main city of the Ancestral Region. Only a narrow grassland separated Westray from the Marshes.

  Wen… the Marshes of the Fiend lie ahead.

  My chest tightened hearing that name.

  “The Marshes of the Fiend? Is there no other way?” I tried to hide the quiver in my voice.

  Don’t worry, Wen. He hasn’t been seen for over forty years.

  That should’ve comforted me, but an ominous feeling settled in my stomach. Things were changing.

  Late in the afternoon we stopped for the night and set up our camp in an abandoned shed. I took a look at the map. It was still a long walk to the nearest town named Dew. I sighed and laid myself down to rest. It was a bright night. Stars glittering in silver light through the broken parts of the roof. My eyes closed from weariness. Tomorrow was going to be a new day. And hopefully this strange sadness inside me would still. My breathing slowed and my mind started to wander.

  ? ? ?

  As I caught sight of the small box in my mother’s hands, I asked, “What is that, mother?”

  “This, my darling, is a music box. Come closer and see,” she smiled, beckoning me forward. I climbed onto her lap as she opened the box. “Look, when I place the key in the lock and turn it, then…”

  The lid creaked open, and delicate, enchanting music filled the air. A feeling of serenity brought a smile to my face. Two delicate figures spun gracefully within the box, dancing in an endless circle.

  Mother hummed along, and I noticed a line of strange symbols encircling a small sun on the inside of the lid. Curiously I traced the symbols with my finger.

  “Do you see the writing around the sun, Faelwen?” she asked. I nodded as I examined the peculiar markings. “It says, ír nidh-tana-dhir í f? ón í medui calad uin í aur.”

  “What does that mean?” I asked.

  “One day, you’ll understand it,” she replied softly, closing the box as the music faded. “But for now, it’s bedtime.”

  Reluctantly, I slid off her lap, and she gave me a gentle nudge toward my room.

  “Shoo, shoo. Off to bed, little one. It’s already well past your bedtime.”

  I scampered to my bed immediately feeling slightly colder without her arms wrapped around me.

  As she came to tuck me in, she leaned down to whisper, “This music box is very special. It’s our little secret, and we must keep it safe, okay?”

  “I’ll protect it with my life,” I promised, solemnly. She smiled, kissing the top of my head.

  ? ? ?

  The memory faded, leaving behind a dull ache increased by the unpleasant wet tongue of Artemis on my face, just like always. I wrinkled my nose and pushed him away, reminding him yet again how unpleasant I found his morning wake-ups.

  He gave me his usual mischievous grin. We quickly packed up and resumed our journey. But I couldn’t stop thinking of the dream.

  I took the music box from my backpack, opening it briefly. The melody played as it always did, but this time, something about it felt melancholy.

  I closed the singed lid and whispered the phrase from my dream, “ír nidh-tana-dhir í f? ón í medui calad uin í aur”.

  What did you say? Artemis’s voice sounded in my mind.

  “The words written around the sun,” I murmured absently.

  Is it the same language the demon used? Artemis asked. I considered this, frowning.

  “It could be, but no. This language sounds soothing... more harmonious. The demon’s tongue was harsh, grating.”

  Well, he seemed to shrug, we’ll understand it one day. I’m sure of it.

  “Yes,” I replied, tucking the box safely away. “We will.”

  The following days were quiet. I spent much of my time reading as we walked, sometimes consulting the map or examining my compass.

  The spell books were fascinating, although they didn’t explain how to channel magic. They only listed spells with incantations.

  At night, I practiced small spells, an orb of light here, a little warmth there, but nothing seemed to work.

  On the sixth evening, just as the sun dipped behind the hills, we saw a village come into view, its red rooftops catching the last light of day.

  The town was called Dew, and it lay within reach of a small farming community to the west. Dew was known for its hospitality and numerous inns, where travellers often stopped to rest before continuing their journey to Westray.

  Though smaller than Townhaven, it buzzed with life. Horses clattered through the muddy streets, and the smell of rain greeted me as it began to fall in sheets, soaking the crowd as they bustled through town. Drunken voices carried on the wet night air, and yellow light streamed from the windows of every inn.

  I chose a small inn tucked away from the main road. Its sign depicted two minstrels dancing in bright colours.

  As I stepped inside, drenched from the downpour, the smell of beer, hot food and fire greeted me. Artemis lowered his head as he followed me. At a glance, he could have passed for a large wolfhound, the kind farmers kept for guarding livestock, though his eyes were far too aware.

  The inn was warmly decorated with oaken wooden tables and on the walls hung the heads of various animals caught in a hunt. Despite the warmth, the lifeless eyes unsettled me.

  Across the room, a large fire glowed, casting a golden light. I chose a seat by the hearth, setting my wet cloak to dry on the back of the chair. Artemis curled up beneath the table. A few heads turned our way with a nervous look, but no one dared to approach.

  A stout, red-cheeked man approached my table. His face split into a welcoming smile albeit a bit wary of Artemis.

  “Welcome to the Merry Minstrel, little lady. What’ll it be?”

  “A cup of tea, a hot meal, and a room for the night, please.”

  “Tea, hot meal, and a room coming up. Three coppers for the tea, five for the meal, two silver for the room,” he said.

  I rummaged in my bag for the money and handed it over. He nodded, still smiling.

  “Coming right up, miss.” After he left, I slipped some salted meat to Artemis.

  “Keep your head down,” I told him. “I don’t think wolves are welcome in inns.”

  He grumbled quietly in response. Soon, the innkeeper returned with steaming bread, a hot bowl of soup, a chunk of cheese and a cup of tea.

  “Enjoy, little lady,” he said, placing a key on the table. “Your room’s the third door on the left, upstairs.”

  “Thank you, sir,” I replied politely. He chuckled, and his laughter rumbled, drawing glances from across the room.

  “No need for ‘sir’, little lady. Folks here just call me Buster.”

  “Very well then, Buster. Thanks.”

  Buster waved his hand in a way to say no matter and looked around.

  “What are you all gawking about?!” he shouted to the other guests. Everyone returned to their business.

  I smiled and nodded, embarrassed, then focused on my meal, sharing small bits with Artemis. After eating, we waited until the room was nearly empty before slipping upstairs to our room.

  The room was cozy and pleasant, with a small fire casting a comforting glow. A lavender-scented candle burned on a table by the bed, filling the room with a calming aroma.

  Artemis stretched out near the fire, content. I washed quickly and hung my clothes by the hearth to dry. Just as I settled into bed, a strange feeling crept over me, as though someone was watching.

  I scanned the room, finding nothing out of place. I tugged the curtains closer to each other and climbed back into bed. Dismissing it as nerves, I blew out the candle and closed my eyes, though unease still lingered.

  Sleep didn’t come easily. The events of recent days weighed heavily, and sorrow welled up unexpectedly. The memories of home, of those I’d lost, came rushing back.

  Sometimes, the burdens in your mind grow so heavy, they can’t be pushed aside, Artemis whispered gently. But you’re not alone.

  He climbed up beside me, his warm fur a comforting weight. I stroked him until I finally drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.