Bibliophile Princess: Volume 5, page 11
Jean mumbled, “You sure this is a good idea? Our group’s already fallin’ apart.”
We set out when the sun rose the next morning, but we soon found it wouldn’t be nearly as easy as we’d hoped. First, we tried to ask the innkeeper about the child, but unfortunately they had already left to run an errand before we got up. The man’s wife informed me they were running low on supplies so he’d left in a hurry to retrieve more. I felt a bit awkward, knowing I was the one who’d put them in this situation.
One tidbit we did learn was that the healer-in-training lived in the mountains, far from the town. Only the innkeeper knew the specifics of their location. Everyone else was tight-lipped. In fact, they practically gave us the cold shoulder when we asked, so we weren’t able to find out any more than that.
We would have to wait until the innkeeper returned to learn anything else. In the meantime, we tried the proper route by having Lord Alan check the town’s address ledger. It wasn’t surprising that we came up empty-handed there, too. If it were that easy to find where Dr. Furness’s family lived, His Highness would have had no need to entrust the issue to me.
The only option we were left with was to split up and ask around to see what information we could glean about healers in the town. As I suspected, most of them had already left to head for the village on Mt. Urma to help the infected there.
People’s anxiety was all the more palpable when speaking to them directly. Word had drifted in about how many were infected there and how dire the situation was. Since this town was a pit stop for travelers heading to and from Mt. Urma, people were naturally afraid. It didn’t matter how much we spread knowledge about preventative care, the Ashen Nightmare still had a high mortality rate, and the fear it inspired in people would not be so easily extinguished. They were clamoring to get the pomelo fruit, hoping it would protect them and keep them healthy. Right now wasn’t harvest season, however, so the only thing available was dried fruit. I could tell them as much, but I suspected it wouldn’t change anything.
I was getting impatient as the minutes turned into hours. My only salvation was the charm (the one the prince gave me before I left) and the letter I had with me, which I clutched tightly to my chest. Now that I had faced people’s fears head-on, I was even more determined.
No matter what it takes, I will find a clue to curing this disease.
I walked around the city until my legs felt like stiff boards and the sun was beginning to set. At that point, we all gathered back at the inn and reported our findings. None of us had met with much success.
We slumped in our seats, exhausted, as we sat at the dinner table. A dour mood hung over us like a cloud. It was Lord Alan who broke the depressing silence with his cheerful voice.
“At any rate, let’s eat up so we can stay healthy. If finding Dr. Furness’s family was so easy, Prince Chris would have already done so. We can’t waste much time here, and moping about isn’t going to cure the infected.”
He has a point.
His words were heartening enough that I reached for my spoon. Jean was trying to push his plate away, scowling at the spicy food stacked on top, but I pushed it back toward him.
The other patrons asked Lord Alan, “Aren’t you gonna sing for us tonight?”
Apparently, word of Lord Alan and his talents was making the rounds; there were more people packed into the main room today than there had been yesterday.
“Standing out this much has its pros and its cons,” Lord Alan mumbled to himself as he picked up his instrument. He glanced over at me. “El, any requests?”
“Huh?” My mouth fell open. No doubt he was simply trying to be considerate. I contemplated for a moment before answering. In the winter, the ground in Ralshen was cold and hard. We needed a song about not losing hope—about waiting for spring’s warm embrace. “Then please play Dreaming of Winter’s End.” It was a northern folk song.
“Sounds good!” Lord Alan casually responded. He began to sing and play as he had done the night before, with people cheering and clapping along. The melody boomed through the room, so everyone could hear.
Our group enjoyed the soothing tune as we began discussing what our plans were for tomorrow. Right as we were deciding we would head for Mt. Urma if we failed to find any leads again, the innkeeper waddled over to us.
“Sorry, I heard you were looking for me.” Apparently, his wife had informed him after he got back with their supplies, so he made his way straight to us.
My face immediately lit up when I saw him. He gave me a strained smile, probably worried I was about to point out other improvements he needed to make at the inn. I quickly dismissed his fears and asked about the child we’d met the other day.
The innkeeper pulled a face. It seemed even he wasn’t keen on discussing them. After hesitating for a moment, he finally said, “Well, I do owe you.” He pulled out a nearby chair, plopped down, and began telling us a story about a man-hating witch.
Long ago, there was a witch who hated everyone. She lived in the forest, far from the town. There were rumors that she performed all manner of odd experiments, so the people kept their distance. The woman also had a daughter, who was married. Unlike the witch, this girl and her husband were close with the villagers. They interacted with them often, fostering trust between them.
Then, sixteen years ago, the Ashen Nightmare broke out across Sauslind. It invaded everyone’s lives, even those ignorant of its existence, turning everything upside down. Apprehension began to build, swallowing up people’s hearts. Those affected couldn’t be saved, and the disease traveled from person to person.
As fear pervaded, the girl and her husband started making strange demands.
“Seal off Mt. Urma’s mines!” they said.
The two claimed a poisonous gas was wafting up from the mines. They said that was the cause of the disease and that Mt. Urma was the epicenter.
I sat up straight in my chair. Something about the story clicked in my head.
The innkeeper quietly continued, “Well, in the end, people just chalked it up to crazy talk. No one would listen to them, not that I can really blame them. We’d spent years digging in those mines, and there’d been no problems before. How were people supposed to believe that it was suddenly a source of evil? Not all the miners working there got infected, either. Everyone thought it was nonsense.”
True, he does have a point.
Plus, the mines were the main source of income for many living around it. They could hardly comply with a haphazard request to seal the mines off simply because someone claimed they were the source of the outbreak.
“And so,” the innkeeper said, his face clouding over, “even though the infections were running rampant, people kept living their lives as if nothing had changed. Who knows why, but that girl and her husband suddenly went into the mines. There was some kinda collapse, and the two of them lost their lives. The witch blamed the townspeople, saying it would never have happened if we’d listened in the first place and cooperated. Now she holds a grudge against us.”
He shook his head. “It’s true what they did was reckless, but if even one person who knew the mines well enough had gone with them, they might have survived. The people here feel pretty guilty over what happened. That’s why none of them want to talk about the witch or get involved with her.”
“But you’re involved with her, aren’t you?” said Prince Irvin.
The innkeeper smiled bitterly. “I lost my son in the first outbreak sixteen years ago. The witch’s daughter and her husband did a lot for me back then. That’s also part of why I’m looking after Gene, to pay them back.”
In other words, Gene was the child they had left behind.
“Guess you’re a softy, huh?” Prince Irvin teased.
I ignored his ribbing, more interested in the big revelations that were wrapped up in the innkeeper’s explanation. “If I may...are any of them healers? Either the witch or the couple who passed away?”
“Yeah.” The innkeeper frowned. “That witch has been working as a healer ever since she came to this town. Seems like her daughter had a bit of knowledge too, but that wasn’t her main job. The daughter’s husband was some kind of professor. A geologist, I think it was.”
He sighed. “That witch was obstinate and hateful from the moment she arrived, but after her daughter and son-in-law passed, it only got worse. If you’re hoping for her help with the outbreak, you’d better look elsewhere.”
I’d mentioned before that I’d learned a lot about the Ashen Nightmare. He probably assumed (and rightly so) that I was looking for the witch because I wanted more information on the plague.
This was our only lead—a sliver of light in the darkness.
“Won’t you please guide us to the witch’s house?” I asked him.
~.~.~.~
Dark clouds loomed above, threatening to pour more snow down on us.
The innkeeper sensed my determination and put us in contact with a guide who made regular trips to the witch’s residence. As eager as I was to follow the lead we’d been given, his story made it clear this woman was nothing if not cantankerous. The hour was already late, and it would take us a while to make it there. So I swallowed back my impatience and decided to wait until the next morning.
We met our guide the following day. They were in their forties and rather taciturn. I was left utterly confused at first when they handed us a bunch of tools for shoveling snow, but I soon discovered their reasoning. Or rather, Jean and Prince Irvin did, since they were the ones doing all of the work.
Although there was a path leading to the witch’s house, which our guide frequently traveled on, there were too few people who used it. When it snowed, the trail was soon covered up without a trace.
As we took an early lunch break, my heart weighed heavy. Hearing about the witch’s hatred for people had been one thing, but I hadn’t really understood the depth of her feelings. I had a new perspective now that I’d seen how lonely and desolate this mountain she called home was.
“Seems like we’re getting even farther and farther into the mountains where there aren’t any people around,” Lord Alan remarked with a smile. He was munching away on a thick cut of meat slapped between two slices of toasted bread. It was wrapped in wax paper to keep his hands clean. “Wasn’t there a folk story you read about a traveler wandering deep into the mountains? They got lost and couldn’t find their way out, right?”
I tilted my head. “It wasn’t a folk story. It was a myth. A young boy—a priest-in-training—went deep into the mountains, where he eventually arrived at an old crone’s house. However, the crone was possessed by a man-eating demon. The boy used three holy relics in his attempt to escape her. The first one mimicked his voice, talking to her to keep her preoccupied. The second one acted as his double, misleading her as he fled. The third took his place when she tried to eat him.”
After a pause, I continued, “However, the crone realized she was being tricked and continued her chase. Her hair was a disheveled mess as she stalked after him, brandishing an enormous butcher’s knife, her mouth cut open at the sides so she could better open her jaw to swallow the boy whole. Just as she was a hair’s breadth from catching up to him...”
Everyone was on tenterhooks, waiting for me to continue, but I was interrupted when some nearby bushes began to rustle. Caught off guard, everyone jolted in surprise. Mabel quickly guided me away while Prince Irvin’s hand hovered over the hilt of his sword. They were all on high alert.
“We sure it’s not a bear or somethin’?”
Jean, bears hibernate in the winter.
As we all trained our eyes on the shaking bush, a wild rabbit jumped out. A winter rabbit, I assumed. It leaped into another bush almost as soon as it appeared, as if scrambling to get away from something. A child darted out from the undergrowth behind it. It was a boy, to be precise. His chestnut-colored hair extended down to his chin, his face stuck in an unfriendly scowl.
The boy’s eyes widened upon seeing how large our group was. You didn’t often see so many people this deep in the mountains. Recognition dawned on his face when he recognized the guide and myself. He remained silent as he studied us suspiciously.
“Ah, there you are, little one.” Prince Irvin dropped his hand from the sword at his hip and tried to soften the atmosphere. “Gene, was it? Perfect timing. We actually came out here to meet your grandma. She lives out here, right?”
Since Lord Gene was already wary of us, Prince Irvin’s casual approach likely only heightened his mistrust of us. He briefly traded glances with our guide, seeming to silently communicate with them before he heaved a sigh. For as much as everyone claimed I was distant and cold for not showing any emotion on my face, Lord Gene and this guide made me look welcoming and warm.
“You bring a gift?”
“Huh?” I blurted back.
Lord Gene sneered. “You’re telling me you came to visit our house empty-handed?”
“Oh dear...” I awkwardly glanced around at the other members of my group. We were so focused on following this lead that we’d neglected basic etiquette.
Prince Irvin stared at the boy for a moment before saying, “You make a good point.” He seemed impressed by how guarded Lord Gene was. “We’ll help you out on your hunt and bring back something to give your grandma, then.” He pulled Jean along with him.
“Why do I gotta go with you?” grumbled my manservant.
“Because you’d piss and moan if I sent you by yourself. I’m being nice and going with you.”
Mabel furrowed her brows. “Both of our armed escorts are going?”
“If it’s only for a little bit, we should be fine,” Lord Alan said, encouraging the other three to go.
Thus, Gene, Prince Irvin, and Jean went off to hunt. Those of us left behind had to continue shoveling the rest of the way to the witch’s residence. Not even twenty minutes passed before the snow started coming down heavy and the wind started whipping around us. The flakes were large and hard enough that they were pelting us like little stones.
“We have to get out of this quickly,” said our guide, who had mostly been silent up until this point. They gave up on the shoveling, instead ushering us along through the drifts.
My horse brayed, nervous as we trudged through the deep and unsteady snow. We managed to coax it along, but visibility was getting worse and worse. It was a grim reminder of how terrifying the weather could be when you ventured out into the wilderness. Worse yet when you were up north where the winters were harsh. Thankfully, we soon reached the witch’s house.
The instant relief and exhaustion I felt as we arrived echoed that of the traveler from the myth. On the advice of our guide, we tied up the horse in a small lean-to outside. We were covered head to toe in snow as we wandered up to the front door. After dusting the worst of it off, we entered.
“Gene, that you?”
Light spilled out from under a door, which swung open as an old woman peered out. It seemed she was in the middle of working when we entered.
Mabel and Rei sharply swallowed their breath, and Lord Alan’s mumbling seemed to sum up what they were all thinking. “Are we sure she’s not a man-eating witch instead of a man-hating one?”
She carried a butcher’s knife coated in red liquid, which gleamed in the light. Blood was splattered all across her apron, too. For a moment, I felt as if I’d been transported into the old legend.
The witch was about the same age as Chief Herbalist Nigel. She had scraggly white hair, left wild and free as if she had no regard for her personal appearance. There were harsh lines chiseled into her face from years of hardship, and her eyes were hardened with hostility and cynicism.
Almost as soon as she spotted us, she snapped, “What do you think you’re doing, entering someone else’s home without permission? Out! Out with you all!”
I panicked, not expecting the first words out of her mouth to be a complete dismissal.
Our guide approached and tried to explain the situation, but she cut them off. “Your excuses are wasted on me. I don’t care if you want shelter from the blizzard or if you came here to chat. I’ll not have any of it. Off with you now!” She spun around, intending to head back to her room.
Mabel and Lord Alan fumbled, trying to call after her. I meant to do the same but paused. The letter I’d tucked into my shirt seemed to call out to me: I know you can do this, Eli.
“Please wait.” Before Lord Alan or Mabel could stop me, I yanked the cloth off my head. There was no fooling the man-hating witch. If I had any chance of communicating with her, I had to do it as Elianna. “Healer of the mountains, I am Elianna Bernstein. Won’t you please hear what I have to say?”
The old woman peered back, her eyes swimming with uncertainty.
The witch guided us into her room, where a familiar sight awaited. There were all kinds of herbs and animal parts that could be used for medical purposes. Some were strewn up to dry, casting shadows on the floor. A cabinet was loaded full of all kinds of jars, some filled with bugs, eyeballs, or other unsightly things. It was like something straight out of a horror book.
An eerie smoke drifted up from a pot on the stove. Accompanying it was a cloying stench that would make anyone unaccustomed to such things turn around and leave immediately.
Lord Alan had experienced this before, and Mabel was no stranger to it either. They entered the room without hesitation. Rei, on the other hand, hesitated and mumbled to himself, “It looks like a witch’s workshop.”
Our guide excused themselves, saying they would go look for Lord Gene and the others. I was concerned for them as well, but I couldn’t let this opportunity slip by.
I turned my attention to the witch. On her work bench was a half-dissected snake. Most likely she’d managed to snag it during its brumation—a lethargic state reptiles entered during the cold that resembled hibernation.
