Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

T he bird alighted on the perch in the aerie where Fionna had chosen to hide lest she be roped into trying to teach novices how to not set themselves on fire. Personally, she thought letting them singe their flesh the best lesson, but Amelia disagreed. And with Amelia being the witch queen, a.k.a. the one making the rules, she had to obey.

As the bird stamped its clawed feet on the perch, Fionna cocked her head and studied it, for it wasn't one she'd seen before. Sturdier than the pigeons they usually saw, its gray and black plumage thick as if it came from a colder clime. Its leg showed a capsule attached and within, a message, the scrawl of writing bold and masculine, the content even more so. The audacity of it arched her brow.

Tucking it into her bodice, she took it immediately to Amelia as she would be the one to reply. Probably with laughter.

Fionna's long skirt billowed with each step, an annoying thing. She much preferred the wide-legged trousers she wore when travelling. So much more comfortable. However, within the keep, certain appearances had to be kept. " For whom?" a young Fionna had asked Amelia as she clothed her in uncomfortable garb. " Everyone," her mentor replied. "Being a witch is more than doing magic. A reputation can sometimes accomplish just as much as a spell when it comes to people."

Fionna hadn't grasped the lesson at the time but as she ventured into the world, she saw the difference in treatment that came with garments. The richer the fabric and cut, the more respect usually given.

The trek from the aerie to inside the main keep took her across the courtyard, then through a series of halls to the office where Amelia usually retired in the afternoon to catch up on administrative tasks. There'd been much more of it lately. Ever since the swamp that had plagued Acca for centuries drained, issues kept cropping up that required the witch queen's involvement, much to her annoyance.

Outside of Amelia's office stood a pair of witches dressed in black leathers, the attire of choice for the combat trained.

Wearing leather that appeared painted on her body, Jezebel, her long blonde hair braided tight, eyed Fionna. "Afternoon, Witch Adjutant." The fancy title given to Fionna that essentially stood for "personal assistant to the queen."

"And a lovely one, it is. I assume Amelia is inside?" Fionna replied.

"Yes. But she asked to not be disturbed."

Fionna held up the message capsule. "She'll want to see this."

"Says you. You might want to wait. She was in a foul mood this morning." Jezebel's lips turned down.

"What set her off this time?" Fionna hadn't spoken to Amelia since the evening repast.

"You know that since the marsh drained, we've run into issues with rats and other vermin looking for new homes. Well, a few of them found their way into a grain storage chamber."

Fionna winced. "Not the one we just got a shipment for?"

"The exact one. She's not too happy about it."

With reason. The treasury had taken a beating since the waters flooding their lands receded. What initially seemed like a good thing—because Acca used to be a fertile land before the flooding—had led to unexpected issues. The displacement of the small hamlets that could no longer support themselves since the fish and frogs that used to feed them disappeared with the water. The larger predators expanded their hunting zones in search of food for the same reason. And then there were the monsters. Oversized creatures, many of them long thought extinct, suddenly cropping up everywhere. They'd hired outsiders, hunters by trade, to help with the situation since they didn't have enough witches with fighting skills to handle them.

"In that case, all the more reason for me to show her this and give her a good laugh." Fionna waved the message capsule.

Laura, the second guard who'd been silent until now, pursed her lips. "We're not supposed to let anyone in."

Fionna arched a brow. "I am her adjutant. I don't need your permission to enter." The reminder that she outranked the older woman rankled and Laura bristled.

Any conflict that might have arisen got squashed by Amelia's voice projecting through the door without muffling. "Let Fionna in."

No surprise the witch queen knew what happened outside her office. Some claimed she could see through walls and doors. Others that she had the gift of prescience. Fionna knew for a fact it was a bit of both.

With permission from the witch queen, and resisting an urge to stick out her tongue, Fionna entered Amelia's office. "We got a message," she declared, pulling the missive from her bodice and waving it. "You'll never guess from who."

"The warlord of Srayth."

So much for surprising her mentor. "Since you know of its arrival, I assume you know what it says?"

"No, that part wasn't shown to me." Amelia held out her hand. "Let's give it a look."

Fionna handed it over and as the witch queen read it, remarked, "It's rather bold of this warlord to ask you to send someone given it's well known his people hunt witches."

"They don't hunt them anymore."

"But they still hate us."

"Not hate so much as not understand," Amelia murmured. "The citizens of Srayth have reason to be skeptical as their lands are practically barren of the magic that exists elsewhere."

"Is it nonexistent, or do those savages kill all those who had it?" Fionna muttered. The superstitious could be dangerous. She should know. If it hadn't been for Amelia rescuing her after the first time she used her power, she'd probably still be locked away. It had taken years before she'd understood her treatment by the magistrate and others came from fear. Fear she'd do to them what she'd done to that evil mercenary. It should be known she didn't regret killing him, she just wished she'd done it before he murdered her mother.

"I told you they stopped killing witches and a good thing, too, or you wouldn't be here."

Fionna blinked. "Excuse me? Are you getting senile in your old age? I'm not Sraythian. I'm from Ulkruuba."

"You were in Ulkruuba when I found you, but your mother was originally from Srayth. She fell in love with a travelling merchant and moved to be with him."

"How did I not know this?" Fionna couldn't help the indignant note to her query. Almost thirty years she'd known Amelia, and she never thought to mention it?

"It wasn't important before."

"Why is it important now?"

"That will become clear shortly. First, let us discuss the request. The matter the warlord wrote of is quite concerning."

How did Amelia figure that when the note barely said anything? Fionna had no problem recalling its brief content.

We have a soldier possessed by a murderous spirit. Send a healer.

"Concerning how?" Fionna snorted. "Sounds to me like someone got into the datura." An herb which, if smoked, could cause violent hallucinations that lasted for weeks before it wore off.

"It is not a drug causing the problem but something much graver. I've seen it in my visions. The warlord requires our aid handling it."

"Wait, you're not actually thinking of sending someone?" Fionna couldn't help her surprise.

"How can I not? The warlord swallowed his pride long enough to ask for help and he wouldn't have if it weren't the last recourse."

"But we're already short on witches here with enough problems of our own," Fionna reminded.

"One witch won't make a difference here but will in Srayth."

"Are you insane?" Fionna bluntly riposted. "Who are you going to send? You do realize it's at least a month of travel." The mountain that separated them from Srayth couldn't be traversed by foot unless you were a goat. It meant circling south and passing through Ulkruuba.

"It's only a week if the person flying doesn't run into issues," Amelia countered.

"And who will you send? There are currently only two witches capable of flight in residence as the rest are already out on missions."

"Three actually."

Fionna briefly wondered who'd returned and why she'd not heard of it but went on to poke holes in Amelia's reasoning. "You're still talking about sending them to a place unwelcoming of witches. No one will want to make the trip."

"They will if I order it."

The flat reply rounded Fionna's mouth. "You'd force someone just to cater to this warlord?"

"I'd do this because the matter is more serious than you realize. I've seen it. Things in this world are changing, Fionna. Old spirits are stirring. You know firsthand the monsters have returned. Why, just last week we lost a hamlet to a dragon."

"All the more reason to keep close to home and protect our lands."

"And what if this problem the warlord encountered spreads? Gets stronger? Then what?"

"These visions you've been having?—"

"Are awful," Amelia interrupted. "Bloodshed, pain, destruction. I just couldn't see where it all began. This missive was the sign I was waiting for. It is my belief that Srayth is experiencing an awakening of an evil magic long dormant."

"This doesn't mention magic." Fionna pointed to the note. "It says something possessed a soldier. Even if it's not a drug, it could be any number of things. Remember that parasite we dealt with after the marsh first drained?" It had a rather liberating effect on people's inhibitions, which didn't sound bad on the surface until jealous husbands and wives turned violent over it.

"It's not a parasite. I don't know what it is, but I have every faith you'll figure it out."

"Me!" Fionna screeched as Amelia's words penetrated.

"Yes, you. You are the best positioned to handle this situation. For one, you can fly, better than most. Two, you have some healing skills."

"Barely," Fionna muttered. It was easier to split skin than mend it.

"Three, you're my best fighter. Four, you're capable, not given to hysterics or the type to shirk her duty. And finally, you're too strong-willed to be pushed around by the warlord."

Or anyone for that matter. Not even the witch queen. "I have better things to do than travel across the mountains to verbally spar with an arrogant warlord who thinks women are chattel." Most of the cultures on the continent treated women as weak. The witches of the marsh were an exception to that.

"There is nothing more important."

"Why can't you send Kalliope? She's better at the whole healing thing than me," Fionna half whined, half begged.

"Kalliope would stand out too much, whereas you, with your half-Sraythian blood, will fit right in."

Fionna grimaced. "I can't believe you never told me of my savage roots."

"This mission is of utmost importance, Fionna. There is more to this situation than meets the eye. Much more… If my visions are accurate, then there is a dark force brewing in Srayth and there's still a chance to stop it before it is unleashed."

"Shouldn't you be sending a full coven then?" Thirteen witches who could link their power. Not used in her lifetime, but she'd read about it in the history books.

"We might need that, but before I pull witches from other duties, we need to know more about the situation and this warlord. Find out everything you can, not just about present events, but also about the past, which may hold a clue."

"Hold on, you want me to spy?"

"Yes."

Fionna grinned. "Well, that's more like it. I'll take skulking and poking my nose in places I shouldn't over playing nursemaid to a man most likely having a mental breakdown."

"Don't be flippant, Fionna. You will have to be very careful," Amelia admonished.

"Aren't I always?"

"No."

The sharp retort led to Fionna smirking. "But I get results."

"That you do, hence why I want you to go. Take whatever you need for supplies. Plus…" Amelia reached into her desk and pulled out a small mirror. "This will be faster than a bird. You remember how to use it?"

"Yes." The mirror linked to another in Amelia's possession and only required one user to infuse it with magic to activate. It would allow them to speak over long distances.

"Good. Now run along and pack your things. You'll leave in the morning. I'll reply to the warlord's request and let him know you're on your way."

With that, Fionna was dismissed. She headed to her room, annoyed at being ordered to go on a long journey, but also excited. She'd not travelled in a while and honestly, the idea of debunking whatever nonsense had the warlord in a tizzy might be fun. She didn't seriously believe some great evil was at play. Amelia could lean towards the dramatic. While there'd been rumors and stories of events well out of the norm, most could be resolved by the point of a sword—or incinerated in a fireball.

While Amelia had told her to leave in the morning, Fionna found herself too restless to wait and headed for the south tower with her things. The many flights of stairs were unpleasant but necessary as they led to the rooftop where three wooden sculptures of birds awaited.

Fionna strapped her packed bag behind the dip that formed a saddle. She placed a cushion on the seat as she knew from experience her bottom would get sore after a few hours. She checked the bridle around the wooden bird's head, not there to guide but for her to hold on. She gave it a few firm tugs to ensure it remained secured. Same with the lap strap that gave added protection from falling.

Checks done, she slung her leg over the body of it and settled in place, belting herself in before she closed her eyes and placed her hands on the smooth grain of the bird.

As a child, it had taken her a while to learn how to touch the magic within her. That day with the mercenary, emotions had unlocked it, but to be a proper witch, she had to learn how to access it without being deathly afraid or angry. Amelia proved to be patient during that process of discovery. It helped that once Fionna figured it out, she caught on quickly and excelled.

Turned out Fionna had more than a little gift when it came to wielding the power of the elements. She could touch and manipulate the threads for fire, wind, water, and earth. She only struggled with spirit, something healers excelled at.

Through her hands, she let the threads of air flow into the figurine which already had a spell in place that made it light as a feather. More twisting of strands brought a breeze strong enough to lift her ride. She tied off her magic and turned off her other sight, the threads that wound through everything distracting—and tempting.

She took in a deep breath of crisp air. She did love flying and it had been a while. To those who wondered why she rode a wooden bird instead of a chair that might be more comfortable, people would notice a chair flying in the air, but the silhouette of a bird, even one with a rider, wouldn't garner as much attention.

Unlike her early days of flight, Fionna did have to be more careful now due to aerial predators. Dragons had been cropping up all over the continent and there was no denying they were masters of the sky. Although, she wouldn't be averse to testing her skills in flight with one.

She only flew until nightfall, stopping once full dark hit in a small town with an inn, her bird shrunk down to fit inside her satchel. She skulked in a corner of the tavern on the main floor, a voluminous cloak covering her head to toe, the deep cowl hiding her features. She didn't want to draw unwanted attention, not because she feared for herself—those in Acca didn't have the same prejudice against witches as other places—but because Amelia would be peeved if she had to recompense some idiot's family for drunkenly thinking he could get frisky with a witch.

The innkeeper offered her a room in the attic, which suited Fionna just fine even if it required her climbing a ladder to enter it. Once she pulled in the ladder and closed the hatch, it gave her a secure place to sleep.

A sleep interrupted when the screaming started.