

Spell of Entrapment – Smashwords edition  
Copyright © 2012 by Jeffrey Beesler

Published by Jeffrey Beesler at Smashwords

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without prior written permission of the Author. Your support of author's rights is appreciated. Re-selling this eBook without permission is punishable by law.

This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Cover design by Sean Sweeney

For my grandmother, Eva L. Smith, who first told me I should sit down and write; and for my wife, Jenny, who puts up with my never-dying writing obsession.

SPELL OF ENTRAPMENT

CHAPTER 1

ACCUSED

(Day 1, Year of the Toad)

Embekah Mare twisted her ankle on an exposed tree root that snagged her, causing her to stumble. As she fell toward some thorny bushes, the branches scraped her face raw. Ignoring the coppery fluid oozing from her lips, Embekah fought back against the impulse to howl and lend her voice to rage. Even out here in the forest, away from the closest village, others might still hear her.

In the distance, royal steeds announced their presence with blaring neighs, their hooves clacking against a neighboring trail Embekah had sought to avoid. Embekah growled at herself. Why'd she gone to town, anyhow? That bounty on her head should've killed her need for a marketplace run.

Embekah swept herself off the ground and motioned past more shrubbery, oak branches snagging her cloak. As she tugged on her arm a patch of fabric split off, stuck on a tree limb resembling a bird's talon. She gained precious little momentum from staggering about. Not a good day for traveling, she thought, nibbling angrily on her lip, the tang of blood still fresh on her.

She gazed up in the sky, realizing what duplicitous force had drawn her out. Nestled between two sickly-looking pair of clouds, the sun showered Embekah in its light, almost as though mocking her with its radiance.

Something swooshed past her, missing her left ear by an inch or two. A second later, she caught the sound of a twang. Embekah glanced up to see an arrow whose tip had found purchase in a nearby tree. A quick glimpse over her shoulder revealed an archer reloading his crossbow.

Embekah wriggled her fingers, casting a plume of smoke from beneath her nails. She might have tried a spell stronger than a smokescreen, but this was all she could muster with her foot wailing in agony. A breeze carried the smoke over toward the archer. A second shot came, grazing Embekah's shoulder. Saliva bubbling between her teeth, she choked back a cry as she fumbled deeper into the woods.

Shouts of protest erupted from the archer. Embekah banished all worry from her mind for so long as the smoke held.

"I've found her!" The archer's words rang out from somewhere close.

So much for not worrying, Embekah thought. As soon as she'd heard him, she began chanting. Her tongue slithered through the syllables with such haste she wound up omitting key words in the hex. An instant later, rime covered her right arm and leg. She snapped the fingers of her unfrozen hand, invoking the spell of dispel, shattering the ice into shards.

"Where's all this smoke coming from?" demanded another man still hidden by virtue of the smokescreen, his voice commanding more authority than the archer's.

Embekah dove into the next shrub, missing the thump of something that slipped off from her cloak, hoping the chaos brought on by the soldiers might somehow drown out whatever noise she made. Couldn't these soldiers just leave her alone? Branches and leaves prodded her face precisely where she'd already been sliced open, adding more difficulty to the labor of staying quiet until the danger passed.

A third man roared, "Hold your positions!"

Embekah trained her ears to detect the first hint of exhaustion in her pursuers. Their voices still contained high amounts of energy, the song of excitement in their tones carrying clearly through the chaos, the melody of men who so easily sold out to the seduction of silver and gold. It'd serve them right if they returned to Castle Leywa looking like fools without her in tow. In the kingdom of Trava, capture of an enemy was cherished almost more than ruby-pierced bracelets or diamond-studded tiaras.

Well, they wouldn't take her without a fight, if it came down to that.

She inhaled lightly when the soldiers approached. The lack of barking suggested that these warriors hadn't thought to bring along the queen's finest hunting dogs. For that, she let a smile quiver on her lips.

Perhaps she might just yet get away.

The guards about a quarter mile shy of her, Embekah checked herself for the exotic mushrooms she'd paid for in gold back in Trava Town. Had she not secured the pouch tightly to her form? Her blood chilled with the discovery that she'd lost what she'd journeyed to the market for in the first place.

Somewhere among the trees, bushes and greedy knights, the key to her salvation lay in wait.

"There's something amiss here," said the one who had ordered a halt to the hunt.

Embekah's smoke cloud dissipated, revealing the archer and two knights. The latter waved their blades around, cutting back the forest overgrowth hindering their progress. Embekah crouched down further, snapping a few twigs amidst more neighs from the horses. The trio came within a matter of feet of their target.

"What do you mean?" The archer blinked at the knight closest to Embekah.

"There was smoke, but no flames. What does that tell you?"

"You don't mean..."

"Exactly." The knight swung his sword at another bush, three away from Embekah. "Our quarry is a sorceress. Bah! I spit on magic. Magic dilutes the purity of nature."

Embekah swallowed down a fiery bubble of air. How dare those men mock her craft? She bit her lip. Hating these men did nothing except distract her. If she let down her guard, it might threaten her escape.

The archer strode towards the knight furthest from Embekah, kicking her pouch high into the air.

"What's this?" The warrior caught the sack the archer had nonchalantly punted in his direction.

Embekah held a hand to her mouth, stopping herself from gasping. The knight now had her mushrooms. It wouldn't take them longer than two minutes to find her. Did she dare run with them so close? The archer had barely missed her minutes ago. In closer proximity he might hit his mark.

"These are mushrooms," noted the knight with the pouch. "Probably belong to the sorceress." Lifting the faceplate of his helmet, he took in a whiff of the fungi. With a groan, he rubbed his eyes, the stench's sting drawing moisture from them. "Yes, truly revolting."

Embekah pursed her lips. With such short-sighted men guarding the kingdom, was it any wonder why she practiced her craft out in the middle of nowhere?

"If I'd only gotten her sooner, we might already be on our way back home," the archer lamented, dangling his crossbow by his side.

The unmasked knight reached the archer, squeezing the latter man's shoulder. "You mustn't blame yourself, Eveck."

"Easy for you to say, Patrew," Eveck replied, veering away from his ally. "You didn't let the sorceress's magic blind you."

Patrew shoved the plate away from his face, revealing a man with a dark complexion, smoke-black hair, and stubble that made Embekah's heart skip a beat. "The woman uses cheap trickery to get herself out of tight spots. Don't blame yourself for the acts of supernatural harlots."

Harlot? Embekah shook off the desire to go smack Patrew across the back of his head. Though he deserved to pay for his words, she wouldn't let him bait her.

"Should we quit, then?" Eveck asked Patrew, the slightest hint of defeat lingering in the archer's tone.

"It's highly unlikely we'll find her out here. We don't even know that those mushrooms belong to her," Patrew remarked.

Embekah's gaze fell from Patrew back to the archer. She could almost smell the fear on the second man. A true enemy of the kingdom would've exploited this weakness.

Not Embekah, however. Gutting every guardsman to cross her path would only guarantee that she'd rot in a dungeon, awaiting a swift kiss of death by way of the guillotine, instead of being left alone to quietly study her craft.

She watched all three men withdraw. Was this a ploy to draw her out? If so, they failed. To catch her, they'd need shiftier tactics.

Minutes later, their voices grew soft in the distance. Embekah waited for a time, until she felt that she was now safe. After one last glance in the direction the men had gone, she turned to run.

A blade tip glimmered in the sunlight, mere inches away from her face. She wasn't going anywhere.
CHAPTER 2

ARREST ATTEMPT

Embekah held down a gasp, the only means she had of quelling her panic. The knight called Patrew stood before her, sword hanging in the air. Any second now, he would decapitate her. Afterwards, her head might become the gem of his trophy case.

"I believed you were gone," she said, adding a wink she hoped would cater to his ego. Perhaps this soldier lusted for more than just riches.

"A clever ruse, I'm afraid," Patrew chuckled, "to lure you out."

If she could just strike the smirk clear off his face! With a sword between them, she saw no way to act upon her whim.

"Must you always persecute women who live quiet lives?"

The knight snorted. "You are about as much a woman as I am a peasant."

Embekah's face stung with heat. Whether the sun or Patrew's tactless remark carried the greater impact, she couldn't decide. Being at his mercy, Embekah scoured her mind for a way out of this fix.

"I could kill you with a snap of my fingers." She clenched her jaw. "Yes, a death spell might do nicely."

At that, Patrew stopped grinning. "This is so typical of your sort, Blasphemer. Always using magic to cheat fate is utterly pathetic of you."

Embekah sighed. "Sorcery has nothing to do with selfish needs."

"You see, it's arrogance like that which makes me loathe you sorcerers all the more." Patrew took a step toward her. "Surrender now. You can no longer escape your destiny."

Embekah couldn't fight back her grin. How glorious would it be for her to send this mongrel whimpering and limping back to the castle? Maybe then the rest of the army would leave her be.

Concentrating her gaze down at his sword, she cast a mental command. A second later, Patrew's blade melted into liquid metal, spilling right onto his gloved hands.

"Bah!" Patrew flung the fluid off of him, spraying a neighboring shrub in gooey silver. "You do not fight with principle, harlot. I shall do the world a favor by ridding it of you."

"Promises, promises," Embekah said, dismissing him with a palm before spinning away. She'd gotten only a few feet away when her ears picked up on the swishing of grass. Suddenly from behind, Patrew clasped her arm, preventing any escape. The amount of pressure he applied to her limb made her wince. Slowly she gazed at the brute, her mind racing for just the right spell that would force him to unhand her.

"Come with me," Patrew snapped.

"And if I refuse?"

"The others are still in the area. You cannot avoid them all."

Embekah cackled at him. "You're a dullard."

"Is that so?" The knight clutched her throat with his free hand, squeezing all the air out of her windpipe. "If I were you, I would keep that tongue of yours in cheek."

Embekah let all the saliva in her mouth accumulate, and then spat at him, striking him between the eyes. Releasing his hold on her throat, Patrew wiped his face clean of spittle. She quickly absorbed a breath of fresh air to satisfy her burning lungs. Then, while his focus was still diverted, she kicked him in the shin with the tip of her leather boot, causing him to release her limb.

"Note how resourceful I am without my magic," Embekah said, hurling her fist into his chin, cracking some bones in his jaw. Thank goodness he hadn't had the sense to slide his faceplate back on.

"Do you truly believe you've won here?" Patrew growled.

Embekah distanced herself several meters from him before answering. "I still have my freedom, don't I?"

Letting the knight's vulgar language flood the air, she dashed off for safe haven. Her lips again defied gravity with a victorious, upward curl.

######

Embekah ceased running about an hour or so after Patrew's botched attempt at arrest. She sat upon a boulder to offer her feet some rest. Sliding a boot off, she glanced down at her travel-weary toes. Tiny dabs of crimson dotted the soil in front of her. She lifted her foot, finding calluses on her soles, cracked and bleeding.

Struggling to maintain her balance on the boulder, Embekah wriggled a finger at her injury. An amber glow from her fingertip encouraged her broken flesh to mend itself. Gradually, the cracks healed. Embekah stood up again, her body weight no longer straining her feet.

What a waste of her morning! A trip to the marketplace shouldn't have been fraught with difficulty, especially for mushrooms. Mushrooms, she told herself, which grew in another part of the kingdom, a place too far away for her to safely roam without running into that blasted army again.

But how else would she finish her latest spell now? She couldn't go back to the marketplace. Not unless she found more gold, as well as a safe method of reaching the town square.

A possible solution came to her. Maybe her quest needn't necessarily take her back to the marketplace, or off to an unfamiliar corner of the woods. Despite the passage of time, there were still people out there who owed her favors. Had the time come for her to collect?

Embekah's mind blared with alarm. There had been reasons why such individuals had grown indebted to her. Could she really trust such foolish souls who'd never make good on their obligations?

Not far away a subtle chorus of crickets rose in the air, alongside an owl hooting while scouring the fields for mice in search of scraps. Dusk! How had she lost track of time? She gnashed her teeth. It was all the fault of the Royal Army. If those men hadn't chased her, she never would have dropped her mushrooms. She could be at home presently, applying her ingredients to a spell which would then prolong her freedom.

Going home seemed the only viable option. At least there she could confide in her one true friend, her toad. By now Halscrad had probably gone through the last of the wingless fly paste she had made for him before her departure. At the very least it had been a nice enough day to leave the window open. This would've let some wayward bugs flutter into her hovel, straight to their doom.

Embekah broke out in a brisk pace as stars gradually filled the sky. Knees threatening to buckle, she rushed against the achy, creaky protest of her bones. At times she leaned against a tree just to prop herself up.

Hours passed. Judging by the rising moon, she'd gone half the night without reaching her abode. Her eyelids inched closer together, her body draining of strength. She entertained the notion of collapsing out there in the woods. The way the grass crunched beneath her feet suggested a distinct lack of moisture. She could use this very spot as a temporary bed, at least until her energy was renewed.

The sudden rustling of some nearby shrubbery jolted her back into apprehension. She glanced over her shoulder, seeking out possible signs of an enemy's presence. Once assured no one was stalking her, she raced the rest of the way home.

In the soft moonlight she could just make out the silhouette of her domicile. She had assumed ownership after having discovered it long abandoned, full of erosion. In its prime her home had likely served a local, reputable planter.

But whoever lived here last had left long ago, leaving no furniture, farm tools, or any livestock behind. The drab outer walls in addition to the cobwebs within had endeared this place to Embekah. Certainly no one would ever suspect a neglected farmhouse of being a sorceress's habitat.

Inside, she sank down in a chair by the entryway, basking in the knowledge that she belonged here. She couldn't imagine living anywhere else.

"What a day," she moaned, hoping Halscrad heard her. "You wouldn't believe what happened to me. There I was, minding my own business, when out of nowhere soldiers gave me chase. I ask you. Can't a woman shop in peace anymore?"

Exhausted by the day's excitement, along with finding no hint of Halscrad, Embekah dragged her feet toward her bedchamber. She almost bowed under the power of sleepiness but reached her cot safely.

Only when Embekah had unraveled the covers of her neatly-made bed, only when her eyelids drooped almost entirely shut, did her cheek brush against a slimy lump. Filling the air with a squeal, she threw her covers off. Heart racing, she zoomed to the door before catching her senses again.

Blasted toad!

######

(Day 2, Year of the Toad)

The next morning a croak stirred Embekah from a hard night's snooze, along with the foul tang of toad breath. Her body resisted every effort her mind put forth to arising. Aches danced their way up and down her body. She might as well have been pinned to the floor.

Also, the awful aroma permeating the room didn't seem limited to rotten amphibian breath. Stink rose from every part of her body, making her heave. What she wouldn't give to freshen herself up with a snap of her fingers.

Unfortunately, mushrooms again remained a key ingredient for such an enchantment. Realizing how dependent most of her spells were on the toadstools, she held back on casting any spells.

She stumbled out of her chamber, heading for the washroom. Behind her she heard an insect whose buzzing met an abrupt halt. Halscrad was certainly making himself a morning time menace to the creepy-crawlies in her hovel. Not that Embekah disapproved of this behavior.

After her shower, Embekah ambled along to the pantry. There she filled a kettle with water and threw it on the stove. It wouldn't take her tea too long to brew. Even if it did, personal experience had taught Embekah to appreciate the fine art of savor. Something about sorcery-made tea almost compromised her affinity for the brew more than once. Maybe it was the sickly brown hue, or perhaps it had to do with the odd, tinny tang the concoction usually left in her mouth.

After she downed a cupful of the liquid, Embekah glanced down at her undergarments. Like it or not, the time had come to get dressed. As she had no intent of heading out of the house two days in a row, casual fabrics from her bedroom armoire would suffice.

From it she retrieved an outfit given to her by an elfin tailor, though forest green clashed with her personal tastes. Fortunately, changing the coloring of her at-home garb required no toadstools whatsoever. With a wave of her hand, Embekah changed the fabric's hue to icy blue before donning the wrap.

A decent pair of boots or slippers wouldn't hurt her either. She snapped her fingers. Moments later her feet nestled into slippers she had summoned from underneath her cot.

"That's better." Embekah wriggled her toes. Hopefully she wouldn't have to run again for a while.

Embekah's stomach rumbled soon after she changed garments. She hadn't given her own nutrition much consideration in the past day, not with a shopping venture gone awry. If she desired more mushrooms, she'd have to keep up her strength.

Upon returning to the kitchen, she sorted through her supplies, depositing all the makings of hot cereal into a bowl. She allowed her food to sit for a short while, long enough to attract a fly or two. She smirked as Halscrad kept going after the bugs attacking her meal.

There's nothing like having breakfast with your pet to start your day off right, Embekah thought.

But even with a full belly and her sores healing, Embekah still found no relief. How could she have let those men get her mushrooms? Despite the relatively docile nature of her plans for the fungi, the knights probably wouldn't understand. They would stop at nothing until they caught her.

Embekah growled. The knights had nearly ensnared her mere miles from her home. It certainly wouldn't take her would-be captors long to trace her steps all the way here. She needed to mount a proper defense in the event they came charging through her door.

She fetched her spell book, flipped it open, and turned to a bookmarked page. The incantation she sought was for an invisible barrier. She scanned the list of ingredients, hoping for an alternative to mushrooms. No entries found.

With a snarl she tossed the book into a pile of pages sitting on an end table. The tome slid over the edge, taking more than a handful of sheets with it. Embekah screamed, her blood boiling from all her recent misfortunes.

Her frustrations released, she retrieved the pages off the floor. One of the sheets she picked up advertised the Z'lymor Inn in the heart of Trava. With a heavy sigh, she studied the parchment.

"Hmm." Maybe a journey to the inn might not be out of the question. She couldn't very well return to the marketplace for mushrooms, not even for toadstools indigenous to only one particular corner of the kingdom outside the market. It'd also be a fool's expedition to wander through a wilderness she knew little about.

Meanwhile, a tighter patrol of the bazaar would give the soldiers a better opportunity to apprehend her, especially if they ever figured out why she'd gone to town in the first place.

But who knew what she might overhear at the Z'lymor Inn? Perhaps the marketplace was not the only source of exotic mushrooms. Maybe there were merchants out there who wanted to do business in Trava Town, yet for whatever reasons were forbidden. The thought of a mushroom underground trade operation sounded a bit silly to Embekah. With the kingdom eager to cash in that bounty on her, however, she saw few better choices for her present situation.

She did reconsider going to the inn as it was located in Trava Town's seedy underbelly. The kingdom's most notorious criminals wound up being among the establishment's repeat customers. She could count on her hands the number of years she had spent frequenting Z'lymor with thieves, liars, cheats, extortionists, and yes even the occasional murderer. Twenty years ago, she had actually admired that crowd, even aspired to be more like those people.

She chafed her arms. What a fool she'd been. Because she'd made such awful choices in friends, the kingdom condemned her for the remainder of her days. Like she was the only one who had ever made a mistake.

"Fine," she said, studying the page. "I'll visit the inn. Should luck embrace me, I might just find a person willing to part with some toadstools."
CHAPTER 3

TARBRA RELSH

(Day 4, Year of the Toad)

Embekah gave herself two full days to recover from her knightly encounter, occasionally glancing out any one of the southernmost windows of her hovel for potential peril. She slept until the obnoxious twitter of birds enjoying an early spring dawn tore her from her slumber. A crack in the wall just below the window explained why the chirping was so pronounced.

If only Embekah had made time for simple repairs to her home! Yet this was a demon she couldn't grapple with at present. She had mushrooms to procure.

Joints aching and muscles still on fire from her recent foray through the woods, Embekah hobbled over to a chair. She sat down, giving her front door a long stare. Was she crazy enough to go through with this? For all she knew, the knights might not have even connected her to the mushrooms. Was it so impossible to believe that maybe the knights had suspected someone else of possessing the toadstools?

She spied Halscrad crouched in the corner, facing her almost expectantly. "I'm not exactly looking forward to going out today, Halscrad. If those knights catch me, well, I guess you'll realize this soon enough, huh?" She sighed, unwilling to believe that this might be the last time she would ever see her precious toad.

Halscrad blinked at her, responding with a deep croak that sounded like it was meant to be comforting.

Truthfully, she appreciated having Halscrad near. At any time she let him outside, he had the opportunity to ditch her, to doom her to further solitude. Yet he never strayed far from the house. Usually he'd hop right through an open window not even an hour after Embekah let him go outside. He was likely to be Embekah's best friend for whatever time she had left to live.

Leaning back in her seat, she snapped her fingers. Another charge of healing energy coursed throughout her form. From where she sat she could see a sliver of sunlight creeping above the eastern horizon. If she wanted, she could still run that one particular errand. Externally, her body seemed to heal in no time at all. Only fear could hold her back if she let it.

As she waited for her magic to work its full effect, she closed her eyes. Thoughts of the coming task swirled about in her psyche. She needed those mushrooms. There was no other way around it. She had to get them, or else she'd forfeit her life.

A spike in energy later, Embekah stood again, drawing her cloak to her with but a thought. Her shroud fluttered through the air as though mimicking a bird. Inspired at last, she plucked it from the space above her head and slipped her arms into the sleeves.

She decided that before she pressed on with her journey, she needed a better strategy than just charging toward the Z'lymor Inn. A brief semblance of preparation would suffice, even if Trava Town lay miles away from her. At the very least, she needed a second plan in case the first failed.

She searched her cloak for anything she might have inadvertently put away in a pocket, like a blade, or a vial containing a special concoction. Disappointment began to sink in until she ran her hand across a scroll. She yanked the paper out, realizing it was nothing but the list of supplies she had been gathering last time.

Minutes later, she burst through under the threshold of her front door, her latest journey into the woods begun. Regardless of what was to come, she banished the possibility of capture from her mind. Until it happened, she refused to let it hold her back.

She marched up the hill away from her house without pause. Trava Town had not seen the last of her. Now was her time to prove it.

######

Despite her determination, Embekah avoided all trails and main thoroughfares early on her quest, sticking only to unconventional routes. She welcomed the sight of any river few others would dare explore. Jagged rocks in the middle of the tributary jutted above the water's surface, appearing like pointy teeth cutting into someone's tongue. An unwise course for most, she thought.

There was a little known dirt path Embekah remembered from her early adult years. It stayed near the Tojafah River for much of the way. She recalled it with near-perfect clarity because she'd shared her first kiss with a rugged young lad near where the path and the river parted ways. She quietly laughed at herself. Still entertaining frivolous flights of female fancy at her age! If she had any, what would her friends think?

Her curiosity getting the better of her, she glanced about for a particular pine, one with silvery needles instead of green, a byproduct of one of her earliest spells. Hadn't she stashed something there some time ago and never returned for it?

Doubtful, she told herself as her eyes gazed upon row after row of trees. Even if she had left anything behind in or around that tree, by now a wayward warrior or displaced peasant would have taken it. Or a woodsman wielding an ax likely had chopped the tree down to make kindling for a wintertime fire, taking her trinket with the log into the blazing abyss.

A glint of sunlight blinded Embekah. She held a hand just above her eyes, beckoning her sight to return. As it did, she noticed a shade of metal providing a sharp contrast against all the luscious green. Was it one of those knights? After a moment, Embekah smiled. The silver didn't belong to steeled armor.

Heading toward her pine, she broke into a steady gait. With the land caught in a downward incline, running wasn't an option for her. After all, she might stumble again and do more damage than just spraining her ankle. Although still a few years shy of the half-century mark, she couldn't afford a broken bone or two to hamper her progress. The toadstools remained top priority.

Making it to the silver pine, Embekah at once grazed her palm upon the tree's trunk. Magic may have concealed a secret hole from her eyes, but could it deny touch as well?

She made a half-circle around. Brushing aside some of the more obtrusive branches oozing with syrup, her fingers wound up coated in needles. The chasm she sought in the pine presented itself visibly to her on the other side of the tree.

Careful to check whether a squirrel nested there, Embekah reached toward the gap. Her nails clinked against a glasslike material. A moment later, she reached in all the way, wrapped her fingers around what felt like a container, and withdrew it at once.

A golden vial she didn't immediately recognize served as the prize for her present effort. She studied the symbols marked just below the rim, but couldn't decipher them. A low grumble rose out of her throat. Had she gotten her hopes up for nothing?

She went to turn away, only to redirect her attention to the base of her foot. A piece of paper lay trapped partway beneath a rock, a steady breeze whipping the sheet of neglected stationary as far up as the rock would allow. Intrigue nipping at her heart, she bent over to retrieve the note, finding a near unintelligible message scribbled on its front.

"'Love gone forever, hearts not aflutter, grief not shuttered. A drink from this, you shan't be missed, without your resist.'"

Embekah let the words weigh heavily on her mind for a few moments. What could possibly be in the vial? A potion? Or maybe instead an insect with a poisonous bite so potent its victim would perish before suffering any pain at all?

Deeming a test necessary before she took this tonic with her, Embekah uncorked the vial, peering inside. An odd fragrance rose from the depths of the bottle, a cross between the scent of holly berries and that of nutmeg. She leaned in closer to a wild orchid swaying in the wind, sampling a whiff from its buds. A moment later, she unleashed a drop of ivory white upon the flower.

At first this did nothing. Then the orchid seemed to lose its physical stability, withering before disappearing in whole. Embekah glanced at the vial, making sure not to breathe in any more of the fumes in case doing so would cause her harm. She then extended her free hand to where the orchid had been, her skin scuffing against the blossoms that had otherwise vanished, the aroma of the orchid still evident.

An invisibility potion, she realized. But why would anyone leave such a treasure out in the middle of nowhere? Embekah wanted to both thank and smack the fool who had given up this obviously valuable material. In all of her sorcery days, she hadn't conjured up anything so sweet before. A sliver of mage envy briefly snagged her soul.

Sensing that it was probably in her best interest to use at least a few drops, she braced for using the potion on herself.

At the last second, however, doubt clouded her mind. What exactly did the note's warning entail? She wouldn't be missed unless she resisted? Did that mean she could control her visibility at will so long as trace elements of the liquid remained on her?

There was only one way to find out. She dabbed herself with the invisibility blend and waited, watching while she faded from sight.

So far so good—she hadn't gotten sick yet. The time came to advance onward to Trava Town. She turned to leave, only to realize that the bottle itself remained visible, despite the nature of its contents. Whoever had created the potion must have also enchanted the vial as well. Without an additional spell the concoction would have made the container vanish also. Then no one would ever have found it.

Maybe she shouldn't take the mixture. But then again, she'd found it by all rights. It wasn't as though anyone else had a claim to it. She pocketed the potion before carrying on.

######

The forest noises dwindled by mid-afternoon, replaced by the clatter of horse hooves and buggy wheels on cobblestone. Stone shacks roofed with moldy-looking wood and straw lined up in rows at the base of a hill. A trail wound toward the hill's summit where the four towers of Leywa Castle stood, nestled conveniently inside impenetrable charcoal-hued walls.

The fortress did not impress Embekah as she gravitated towards the inn. Motioning past a crowd, Embekah listened intently to the murmurs, hoping to hear about a fresh crop of mushrooms. Nothing so far!

In spite of her invisibility, Embekah exercised great caution in where she stepped. With the slightest miscalculation she'd bump into someone. Their eyes might not catch her, but four other senses could still ruin her mission. Hopefully her soap would mask her body odor a while longer.

Fortunately for Embekah, people were too caught up in their own personal lives to pay any heed to subtle foul smells.

She wandered from the main road to a side street, glancing over her shoulder every so often. Two guards toured the area, though they conducted no random searches of people. In truth, they seemed more fascinated with the window display cases of village shops. Embekah passed them without incident, silently praising the invisibility potion and her unknowing benefactor.

Finally she approached Z'lymor Inn. An emblem hanging above the doorway depicted a knight sipping a mug of brew while crushing the neck of a slain dragon underneath his boot. What the sign depicted seemed preposterous to Embekah. Unfortunately, too often certain people indulged in tall tales.

Like those who refused to let her live down her past, for instance, she thought.

Embekah worked her way past the might-is-right symbol and up the stone steps to the front door. Realizing that the image of the door opening on its own might startle one or more of the inn's patrons, Embekah watched for an approaching customer.

She didn't have to wait long. An elderly couple emerged from the inn, attired in pauper garb, carrying a faint, sickly color on their faces. The husband reeked of cheap ale. The wife, meanwhile, cursed under her breath something about the forced reversal of fortunes. Embekah slipped past them before the door shut on her.

Embekah stood by the entrance for a moment or two, taking note of anyone whose gaze drifted over in her direction. Satisfied that everyone was deeply involved in their meals, drinks, and idle conversations, she considered the note's cryptic warning again. She closed her eyes, thinking only of shedding her invisibility. A quick glimpse downward revealed her body shifting back to original form.

Prior to anyone growing any wiser, Embekah spotted a booth with terrible illumination. Perfect. She at once helped herself to that corner seat against no immediate objection.

Unfortunately, a barmaid approached her table almost the very moment she planted her rear on the bench below.

"Hello," said the woman, heavy bags under her eyes and a shortness of breath in her words. "May I get you a drink?"

"Water, thanks." Embekah gripped her hood, keeping it close to her face so that the barmaid couldn't identify her.

"Your voice sounds so lovely," the barmaid said. "I cannot help but wonder why you would hide your beauty."

The muscles in Embekah's back tightened up, yet she fought off the compulsion to rearrange her posture. Too much movement would only call more attention her way. As it was she had already endangered herself enough.

"I have scars the looks of which might send you in a mad panic toward your death," Embekah lied. "What would it say for your mistress's business if her employee passed away from the shock of gazing upon me, all while toiling about the tables, feeding and saturating her most loyal patrons? I cannot imagine how such an event would usher in any prosperity for the inn."

Embekah cringed slightly at the way she had carried on, but this did produce the desired effect she sought. The server sighed, ambling off to retrieve a glass of water.

Hopefully no one else would ask questions.

#####

While waiting for her beverage, Embekah listened to the many conversations buzzing about the room. Mostly, the banter pertained only to weather and jousting. Quite frankly, her eyes found the rotted wood paneling to her right more striking.

Did no one harvest mushrooms in this age?

"You're awfully bold stepping out of your house these days."

Embekah looked away from a pair of scalawags pelting a young-looking couple with bits of food, finding a familiar, sisterly face beaming at her.

"Tarbra Relsh!" Embekah fought the impulsive to leap up and tackle the one friend, aside from Halscrad, she still had. Instead, she gave Tarbra a warm smile, offering the copper-haired woman to take a seat. For a moment, Embekah could do nothing but gawk at her friend. Tarbra somehow had maintained a slender figure after all these years, and there didn't appear to be a single trace of a wrinkle creasing the woman's thin, rosy cheeks. Embekah took special care in not letting her envy over Tarbra's perfectly hemmed blue gown spiral out of control.

"Embekah Mare," Tarbra announced with light bemusement. "Only you would dare risk an invisibility spell to sneak yourself into town when your name has never been cleared. Why bother returning when all of Trava is out for your blood?"

The disbelief in Tarbra's tone prompted Embekah to cut right to the heart of the matter. "I'm awfully low on mushrooms these days. Do you know where I might get some?"

"Besides the West Sun Woods or the marketplace?"

"Knights have recently combed the forest for me." Embekah glanced off to the side, casting a quick survey of the staff and patrons, before redirecting her focus back at Tarbra. "In my haste to escape from them, I dropped my pouch of toadstools, thereby implicating me in whatever evil-doing the kingdom wishes to accuse me of.

"Those men probably have the market under surveillance, thinking I might foolishly return there. I thought that as the owner of the Z'lymor Inn, you might help me out."

Tarbra held out her hand to Embekah, wrapping it around Embekah's fingers. "I'm sorry, Embekah. Most Travans have avoided mushrooms since earlier this week. Why, Zartohs the mushroom merchant was in here just last night, griping about how the royal witch hunt has made his sales plunge into bleak territory."

"You spoke with a mushroom merchant?" Embekah squealed, and then tugged tighter at her hood. A cursory glance from a neighboring patron made her gasp. Then the man returned to his brew and she exhaled. Losing her head in the moment would only undermine everything she had worked toward thus far.

"I'm the innkeeper here. Talking with other people comes with the job. I'm sorry I didn't stop Zartohs from leaving town, but how was I supposed to know that you were in dire need of his services?" The expression on Tarbra's face suggested Embekah's mission troubled the woman. "If you had just sent your toad ahead of you to warn me of your arrival, I could have prepared better."

"I'm sorry." Embekah grunted at her lack of foresight. "What else could I have said, though, that a knight or other kingdom loyalist wouldn't have decoded?"

A jollier gleam returned to Tarbra's eyes. "You're right. But I appreciate your apology all the same. You know, it really has been too long since we've spoken to one another. I had almost suspected that you just didn't care anymore."

Embekah's lip trembled slightly. She cleared her throat, reminding herself not to get choked up in the moment. Still, she couldn't deny her heart's joy in seeing her old friend again after all this time.

"I'm sorry," she said, gripping Tarbra's hand tight. "You know I've had to hide ever since those blasted knights set their sights on me." She cast a glance beyond Tarbra for any sign of the Royal Army. "Just because I'd associated briefly with that thieves' guild twenty years ago, it doesn't mean it should be held against me forever."

"They fight for justice, Embekah," Tarbra spoke, gently retracting her hand. "They've watched me all these years, too. I suspect I'd have been cast to the dungeon myself if I didn't provide the army a service of beef, ale, and bed."

"Of which I'm sure they're eternally grateful." Embekah crossed her arms on the table's surface. "Why slay a serving wench when you can go after one who refuses to cook or clean up after you, huh?"

The barmaid approached a second later with the glass of water. Wordlessly, she set it down on the table, making no effort at all to utter anything in Embekah's direction. With a quick pivot of her body, the barmaid stormed off.

"Excuse me?" Tarbra called after the server.

The woman twisted about, groaning. "Is anything wrong?"

"You said nothing to our guest here," Tarbra noted, gesturing toward Embekah. "Is that how we treat patrons now?"

The barmaid dropped her hands to her side, balling up her fists. "No, madam, it's not."

Embekah brushed the side of her hood, reassuring herself of its presence. Hopefully the barmaid wasn't able to get a good, long look at Embekah's face.

"Anything else I can do for you?" The barmaid grunted at Embekah.

Embekah shook her head. "No, but I thank you for the water."

Without another word, the barmaid broke away in a huff, ignoring three tables full of dirty plates. She even dismissed a customer who pointed at his goblet like he'd gotten the wrong beverage.

"She's really got to go," Tarbra mumbled, massaging her temple.

"So fire her. Surely she's not irreplaceable," Embekah said. "I must say, Tarbra. When we ran together in our corrupt circles, I would never have pegged you as an ambassador for hospitality. In fact I still think of you as the wild child who let her ginger locks dangle far below her backside, to the disapproval of her parents."

Tarbra smirked. "Yes. We Raven Rousers had a knack for imagination, wouldn't you say?"

"What a season in our lives that was." Embekah chuckled. She'd almost forgotten how she and Tarbra would hide amongst their group of seven or eight, pretending to cast magic only royal mages were allowed, or plotting to swipe the king's riches. "Strange how life doesn't always turn out the way one would have hoped, or dreamed."

"Do you regret the path you've taken?"

Embekah struggled to maintain a locked gaze with Tarbra. The innkeeper's question was hardly meant to be insulting, yet it only made this predicament seem all the more dire.

"It certainly wasn't the path I would have taken if the Royal Army had left me well enough alone."

Tarbra ignored the comment as the barmaid rushed past the both of them, carrying a pitcher and spilling more than just a few drops of water along the way. "Hey! Be careful there."

Embekah held her head down, quietly snickering as the barmaid voiced her displeasure with the job, disrupting everyone's meal.

"Despite hiring one worthless barmaid, I feel pretty good about the life I've chosen," Tarbra said, gazing back at Embekah. "Based on what's happened to you, it sounds like I got out of sorcery at just the right time."

"Whereas I thought it would have been the best thing ever to run around with thieves, practicing spells. At least the magic has given me purpose in this otherwise dismal existence."

Tarbra's jaw became set. "Just before the knights raided our hideout, I tried to tell you to get out, but all I got for my effort were headaches and heartburn."

"Why would you have tried to warn me, unless you actually knew something no one else did?" Embekah's eyes bulged at the possibility that Tarbra had inside information and had chosen not to disclose it.

Mouth falling open, Tarbra choked back a startled response. "I had heard rumors that certain machinations with those knights were in the works, but I'd never confirmed this."

"Yet you tried to warn me all the same." Embekah took a quick breath to recompose herself. "Why didn't you ever probe a bit deeper? The Raven Rousers were some of the craftiest thugs this side of Castle Leywa. They wouldn't have fallen victim so easily to a raid, unless you purposely kept mum about it."

Tarbra scrambled to stand, only to have Embekah clasp her by the arm. Fidgeting, the innkeeper said, "Em, it wasn't quite like that."

"Then by all means, tell me what it was like."

At that moment, Embekah happened to catch a glimpse of silver glinting in her side vision. She tore her gaze away from Tarbra. The knight Patrew stood at the far end of the aisle, opposite where the women were conversing. Embekah descended back onto her bench just before he drew nearer.

"What's wrong?" Tarbra frowned.

Embekah pointed a finger at Patrew. "That man almost caught me the other day after I'd gone to the market for my mushrooms."

Understanding flickered in Tarbra's eyes. "Want me to kick him out?"

Embekah suppressed a yes. "I'd rather not call any attention to myself, which will almost certainly happen if you throw a knight out of your inn."

"Very well, then."

Patrew stopped his advance, appearing to strike up a conversation with an old acquaintance three tables down. A new barmaid sashayed up to that group, holding her washcloth by her waist. She leaned slightly toward Patrew in an obvious attempt to win over his fancy.

"Now that's a harlot for you, Patrew," Embekah grumbled, forgetting she was insulting her friend's hired help.

Tarbra gasped. "Pardon me?"

Embekah grumbled while rising again. "I'm sorry, Tarbra. I shouldn't have come. I would've been better off staying home and forgetting all about those mushrooms."

Tarbra glared at Embekah with such contempt it was enough to make the sorceress stop altogether.

"I haven't talked to you in years, Embekah Mare. This is the first chance I get to see you, but you barely give me the time of day. What gives?"

Not wanting to make a scene, Embekah fell back in her seat. "All right, I'll stay."

Tarbra grinned triumphantly. "Good. Because, believe it or not, I can help you if you'll let me."

"I seriously doubt you can prevent my arrest."

"Oh, ye of so little faith, Embekah," Tarbra said, glancing quickly at Patrew. "I recall a time or two where my quick wit got you out of a lot of trouble with your folks."

The very mention of their parents triggered more fond memories, along with a grin from Embekah. "I must admit, the tall tales you told really amazed me. Did anyone ever figure out that it hadn't been that run-in with a bunch of snakes that caused me to break curfew?"

"My mother suspected as much, but back then a wave of my hand made every trace of proof vanish," said Tarbra, her lips receding back into a frown. "I wouldn't have done that for anyone but you, Em. You were the closest thing to a sister I had back then."

Embekah opened her mouth to ask a question, but then noticed Patrew breaking away from his conversation. Her spine tingled with dread. Was he coming her way? Would he stop at her table? She slowly exhaled, blaming nothing but coincidence for Patrew's ill-timed visit to the inn.

Patrew paused at their table. Embekah struggled between not glancing up at him and not making it obvious that she was trying to shield her identity from him.

"You know, unless I'm mistaken, it doesn't appear as though it'll likely rain in here anytime soon," Patrew said to Embekah, the friendliness of his tone genuine. "Of course, many a shoddy roof has proven me wrong before."

"I'm sorry?" Embekah kept looking toward Tarbra.

Patrew chuckled. "My dear, you'll not catch a cold in here. Everyone else who's wearing a cloak has had the common sense to remove their hood."

Embekah turned her head toward the rest of the patrons, making sure she didn't make eye contact with Patrew. The knight's words rang true. Only Embekah still wore her hood, a fact she wanted to kick herself for not realizing.

"I have unsightly scars on my face and would rather not call attention to them, thank you," Embekah said, amazed by the distinct lack of tension in her tone.

For a second, no words came from the knight. He then cleared his throat and said, "I must beg your pardon, my lady. I hadn't meant to intrude..."

Sensing she had just gained an advantage, Embekah pursued it. "No, you clearly had meant very much to disrupt a private conversation between old friends. Did I prod my nose into your discussion a second ago when you stood down there?" She gestured toward the other end of the aisle.

Patrew's stare surveyed the far side of the inn. "No, you hadn't." The color retreated from his face as though he had suffered a terrible loss in battle.

Tarbra balled her hands together, resting them upon the table. She seemed to be avoiding looking at Patrew the same way Embekah had a minute earlier, but probably for a different reason. A sudden, uncontrolled chortle from Tarbra confirmed this.

Embekah didn't let this sap her momentum. "You should feel ashamed of yourself, good sir. I mean, don't the king and queen instill some sense of nobility in the men they select for their army?"

Tarbra made another squeal. After which, she buried her face in the table's surface as if to prevent herself from earning the knight's ire.

"Am I missing something here?" Patrew arched his brow, scratching his head.

Embekah felt her body temperature rising. Now she really hoped she had spread the fragrance of bluebells underneath her arms before leaving home that morning.

"The only thing you're missing, good sir, is that we ladies would prefer very much to be left alone."

"Again, I must beg your forgiveness..."

"It's granted," Embekah shot back, deliberately cutting him off before he could say anything else. A wave of boldness washed through her, courage she hadn't experienced since before joining the Raven Rousers. "Now, be gone!"

Patrew bowed to the women, spun around, and strode off with the same dejected movement Embekah usually saw in Halscrad during a heat wave in summer. Every ounce of Embekah's being went into swallowing down the laughter that sought to escape from her chest.

The moment a guffaw exploded from Tarbra, however, Embekah couldn't resist any further.

"This is why you shouldn't let the worry of being captured keep you from living life, Embekah," Tarbra said, reaching out for Embekah's palm once more.

Tarbra's words yanked Embekah back to her present situation. "This was fun, don't get me wrong."

"But?" Tarbra hardened her grip.

"It's just I've gotten so used to my current way of life. I don't see myself being able to walk around in public so long as I'm labeled with that ridiculous charge of treason."

"Hmm." Tarbra let go of Embekah before crossing her arms. "I had hoped you would have taken another route with your sorcery. You have such wonderful skills, a deep inner beauty of expression that can come from no one else. Yet you let the world chain you to your guilt. The Embekah I used to get in trouble with all the time would never have let anything stop her."

Embekah rose again, this time unhindered by Tarbra's efforts. "It's not that simple."

"Isn't it?" Tarbra joined Embekah a second later, locking gazes with the sorceress.

"I did some growing up since then, Tarbra."

"Perhaps you grew up too much. You're only as young as you feel."

Embekah blinked at Tarbra. "If you only knew the things I had gone through, the traumas which robbed me of my fortitude, you might not be so quick to judge me."

Tarbra threw her arms around Embekah in a hearty embrace. "So tell me. What crushed all the rebellion out of the rebel?"

Embekah clenched her fists. How could Tarbra not know the reason why, unless the two had already drifted apart before things had gotten ugly? Embekah racked her memories for any detail that could cast some light on what happened. The harder Embekah struggled, the more she failed to remember.

"I carried a child to term soon after the guild disbanded."

Tarbra gave a slow nod. "That's right. I do remember hearing about you being pregnant. I just didn't buy into the innuendo that made you out to be a harlot."

Embekah went on, "The year we drifted apart was so distorted to me, Tar. I do remember the pain, the fire beneath my skin as my body evicted the little child growing inside of me.

"I had tried to go back to the former headquarters of the guild to deliver the infant in peace, but I wound up giving birth in a dark alley. I was so exhausted that I passed out, and when I awoke some time later, my baby was gone." Only sheer force of will kept Embekah from screaming her rage into the world.

Tarbra bit her lip. "I'm so sorry, Embekah."

Noting her friend's sympathy, Embekah took a deep breath. "Not your fault, Tarbra. After all this time, you'd think I could just....ugh!"

Forgetting herself for a moment, Embekah pounded her fist against the table. A patron next table over gawked at her for a moment before carrying on with the mug of beer in his hand.

"Cursed life!" Embekah whispered, leaning in closer to Tarbra after ensuring that no one else had taken an interest in their conversation. "It just has its way of lashing out at us, tempting us with desire. Then it obliterates our hearts, using those same desires against us."

She took a sip from the glass of water she had ignored for the past few moments, wishing the liquid was booze instead. What she wouldn't give to have her worries wash away as she downed a goblet, or better yet a whole bottle, of sweet intoxication.

"Doesn't it, though?" Tarbra gave a soft smile. "Perhaps we should change this?"

"What would you suggest?"

"That we decide not to let anything keep us from honoring the friendship we've spent years forging, or to prevent us from basking in the happiness we both deserve."

"This is all good and well, Tarbra," Embekah said, heading toward the door. "But I'm not sure I'm worthy of being happy, not after I'd let my baby be plucked right out of my grasp."

"Maybe you should forgive yourself a little, Em."

Embekah reached the front door of the inn. The barmaid who had been so rude to Embekah glowered at the sorceress prior to heading for the bar.

"How can I forgive myself when the rest of the kingdom can't?"

Embekah waved goodbye before setting foot outside the inn. On the street the crowd had shrunk by almost half. Embekah hesitated at the inn's entrance to reconsider what Tar had said.

At least mushrooms were now the furthest thing from Embekah's mind.

CHAPTER 4

INTRUDER

Embekah barely made it inside her house before collapsing. Fortunately, her chaise longue lay only a few feet from the front door. Out of breath and struggling to keep her eyelids apart, Embekah sank into the cushion, keeping her cloak on in lieu of having to search for a blanket. A gentle "ribbit" filled the air from somewhere inside, but Embekah couldn't lend any vigor to her voice and answer Halscrad.

She fluctuated between moments of consciousness. Each time she drifted away from the waking world, a remnant memory of her infant's disappearance flickered inside her head, and she'd awaken with her throat parched, her clothing drenched in sweat.

After the third failed attempt at slumber, she found herself staring up at the ceiling. One arm dangled a few inches above the floor, while she pressed the other against her forehead. She sniffled away the threat of tears. To this day she could still almost feel the skin of her brand new baby against hers, almost hear its tiny cries in the alley. Why hadn't she ever found her child? What kind of mother would ever show such disregard for her offspring?

What was the kid like today? Was he or she even alive? What kind of adult had her precious baby become? She fought with these questions while readjusting her outerwear, concealing most of her flesh. The warmth present in the room remained at a tolerable enough level so that Embekah saw no need for a fire. Even so, she kept her cover pressed against her body.

Her mind meandered away from her distant past to more recent travesties. How could she have let the Royal Army intimidate her off course? She had needed those toadstools for her last defensive measure, but now her goal seemed unattainable. She couldn't give up. Down in her cellar the bulk of her spell books laid on a shelf, snugly nestled next to one another. Surely one of them had a spell that required no mushrooms for creating an energy barrier.

Yawning, Embekah stretched out her legs. She closed her eyes again and attempted a fourth doze. Images spiraled about in her mind, everything from the lost pouch to the knights to an infant wrapped in layers, cradled in her arms.

In one dream she found herself poised underneath a guillotine. Patrew towered over her, gripping the rope, ready to drop the blade down upon her. In another, all of Trava Town crumbled in a sea of flames, a dark laugh rising above the screams of people dying.

Such an ominous round of laughing jostled Embekah awake, propelling her out of her longue, her breathing shorter than before. She had never known such a malicious cackle. That this sound had come from somewhere deep within her drove a shudder through her spine.

Yet maybe she deserved the nightmares. Perhaps she ought to be condemned, not so much for any false accusations the kingdom threw her way, but rather for her inadequacies as a mother. Embekah could rest in the comfort of her longue, basking in physical freedom, while her son or daughter might very well have become a feast for worms.

The muscles in her legs twitching with aches and spasms, she sank back into her seat again. Wallowing in this self-pity would bring her no relief. She'd done this to herself. Now only one method seemed effective in easing her torment. She had to just accept responsibility for what she did, or rather didn't do, after her child had come into the world.

Far as she was concerned, there were few fates worse than living out in the middle of nowhere, condemned to complete isolation, to never knowing the pleasures of raising an infant to adulthood.

Halscrad croaked again, as though sensing her resignation. Embekah felt her face contort slightly. How could she have ever forgotten her toad? Halscrad had been her one ally for so long as she could remember. Though it certainly would have been nice to have a human friend to talk to every so often, at least Halscrad provided Embekah with a good audience.

And besides, maybe the youngster had been given a better shot at survival by being taken away.

Her belly roared, forcing her to stand. The silence of hunger her objective, she sauntered toward the pantry. A pastry perhaps, like a moldy piece of cake or pie, or maybe even a scone, might suffice. Too bad she couldn't get fresher sweets from the local bakery. And any foods she conjured up with her sorcery ran a higher rate of rapid aging than desserts she bought on occasion in Trava Town. Thank the mystical stars she had trained her stomach well on how not to vomit the mold back up.

She snapped her fingers. The cupboard doors came unlatched, opening to show her the contents hidden seconds earlier.

Embekah ogled the ingredients on her shelves. Canisters filled with oats, wheat, barley, and other grains lined the first cabinet. In the next, she found cinnamon, sugar, salt, pepper, ginger, cloves, and some magical powder she had long since forgotten about. She skimmed the last substance's surface with a finger, discovering that she could not pry more than a grain of the matter off. It had all melded together in a singular lump, rendering the material useless. She made a note to bury it out in the forest later, away from any woodland creature it might adversely affect.

Her stomach grumbled again, demanding an immediate cessation to the hunger plaguing it. It didn't matter what Embekah ate, so long as she crammed something down her throat.

Unwilling to abide even another second of this starvation, Embekah snapped her fingers again. A flicker of crimson energy filled the chamber. When it was gone a couple of minutes later, a plate of the most powdery, gooey baked goods sat atop a doily spread across the counter. Her water basin had filled with the pans it had taken to prepare her pastries throughout the mixing and baking processes.

Yes, using her magic to cook instead of doing it from scratch all on her own may have been cheating, but she deserved this. It wasn't like she had much to live for outside these walls.

As Embekah plunged the last piece of cake into her mouth, her mind indulged another concern. She shouldn't have squandered her magic so needlessly, but she could only take so much mush. Still, her enemies were closing in on her, one day at a time, and her flow of supplies had nearly run dry. She could ill afford another indulgence of gourmet sweets. But she probably at least had enough ingredients left to at least conjure up a bow and arrow for hunting, if push came to absolute shove.

A fly buzzed about in the corridor as Embekah stumbled off to bed. A second later, a slurp resonated throughout the hallway, followed by a satisfied ribbit.

#####

(Day 5, Year of the Toad)

At dusk the skies outside promised torrential rains. The wind kicked up as a storm rolled in, trumpeting its presence with intermittent claps of thunder. Preparing for bed, Embekah went to latch every window. She didn't need outside debris adding to her already present clutter.

At the last window, Embekah glanced outside at the silhouettes of trees bending in the wind. The poor illumination made Embekah flick her hand at a wall sconce candle, whipping up a tiny flame on the wick. In the corner she caught a glimpse of Halscrad down on the floor. Not once had she ever seen Halscrad cower, but his present proximity certainly made Embekah rethink that notion. Perhaps he needed gentle reassurance, but this was only a small tempest. It'd die off before long, after which the world would grow silent once more.

Remembering that she still had to latch the last shutters in place, Embekah spun away from Halscrad. Her fingers had just ensnared the fastener when a gust blasted its way into the manor, howling as though she'd committed treason against the very air current. She lost her balance and toppled over, landing on her rear.

She got up again. After dusting herself off, she strode back over to the window. There she secured the handle with a spark of magic—an extra defense against the wind. Another gale pounded against the barrier, but Embekah's spell held on strong.

Yet her instincts detected something amiss about this storm. Embekah's mind chased after the answer, but came up terribly short. A storm was just a storm, after all.

Embekah peered back down at Halscrad. The darkness almost enveloped her poor toad in full, an effect of the lantern's lackluster luminescence.

"Halscrad, somehow I doubt this squall is a coincidence!" Her words prompted little response from the toad. "I could have sworn that the almanac indicated no disturbances for the rest of this month."

Another gale pummeled its way through a window Embekah's magic hadn't yet grazed. She rushed over to combat this new intrusion of air, sealing it shut again, all the while wondering how a storm could carry such precise intent. During this, the gust sapped what little heat was left in her manor.

As she spun away from the window, the sound of something scraping against the glass nearly stopped her heart. She looked over her shoulder at the tree branch pressing against her pane by an unforgiving gale.

The branch fell away a second later, almost as if it'd given up on getting inside. A crash came from somewhere on the far side of the house, somewhere beyond these immediate manor walls.

"Halscrad!" she called out, hoping her pet would heed the urgency in her voice and hop off to somewhere safe.

Another crash resonated outside, its depth so vast that Embekah hit the ground. As the earth beneath her trembled, something shattered in the pantry.

She picked herself up again, and then dashed off to a safer chamber in her homestead. A clank of metal echoed from down the hallway. The shadows made identifying the noise's source impossible. The thought of casting an illumination spell tempted her, but it might leave her vulnerable to whatever else was in the house with her and Halscrad.

While Embekah took a step backward, a gust chilled her unprotected skin, forcing her to bleed out her defiance against it in a scream. A sheet of parchment slapped her across the face, blinding her. Dizziness set as the draft lifted her up and twirled her around several times. Finally, she steadied herself against the wall until the wind died down again, allowing her to regain her footing.

"Where are you, Halscrad?" Embekah asked, fighting back against the desire to retch. Assuming she survived this wicked weather, it would take hours for her stomach to entertain the notion of any food at all.

Cold metal snatched her by the hand, its grip taut, almost capable of crushing bone.

"I know not who this Halscrad is," came Patrew's low voice, "but it hardly matters now. I'm bringing you in for crimes against the kingdom."

Every muscle in Embekah's body sagged. The air escaped her lungs. The storm had likely been the deception of a royal mage, brought along to ensure Patrew's "glorious" capture of the sorceress. Why else would this zealot brave the elements, unless he knew all along he had nothing to fret from it?

Embekah stared Patrew straight on, his face uncovered. His pupils bounced up and down, rimmed with green against ivory seas, his brows thicker than the bristles of her favorite broom. His chin was set with strength worthy of his armor. For an instant, she almost forgot that he was here to drag her away to the darkest, dankest dungeon in all the land.

Thoughts of the prison seemed to spur on the shadows, for they now bulged ever closer to Embekah. Unable to break from Patrew's grip, Embekah's nerves tingled, bile building up despite her efforts at swallowing it down.

But then the very acid from her gut inspired insolence in her soul. Energy coursed through Embekah's fingertips, producing a bright flash as kinetic force ripped her from Patrew's clutches. Metal crashed against the wall. Embekah darted down the hall, putting some distance between her and her would-be vanquisher.

"You wench!" Patrew growled, gathering himself off the floor. "Do you really think your sorcery can stop me from fulfilling my duty?"

"I don't care about your duty," Embekah said, mocking him.

Patrew raced and reached for her again, a move she easily blocked with another like discharge. While her heart mourned the defiling of her hearth's sanctuary, other parts of her reveled in the chance to show up this Travan warrior, this trespasser of her domain.

Embekah braced herself for another shot at the knight, but Patrew lunged forward to tackle her. She crashed against her chaise longue, her brow striking the mahogany armrest as she veered her head to the right.

"Aha!" Patrew cheered. The setback had given him ample time to seize both her wrists. "You're coming with me. Now!"

She laughed in his face. How could she fear someone who was clearly holding his punches? The fact he hadn't unsheathed his sword impressed her even less.

"I'm not about to surrender," she said, and then dissolved into a puddle of water, cheating fate once more.

Patrew roared. "Your sorcery gives you an unfair advantage."

"And your size gives you an unfair advantage," she said, trying to block the white, searing pain from compromising her vision, even in this alternate version.

"You can't remain a puddle forever. Sooner or later, your magic will run out," he said, grinning. "I've seen many mages tire themselves out needlessly with the strain of spells."

The creep's right, she thought spitefully. With the injuries he'd already inflicted, and the magic she'd already squandered on things like indulgent sweets, she wouldn't last long in this battle. Something had to give.

As she shifted back to normal, Embekah heard more branches beating against the side of her house, a higher shriek of wind. Nature, assuming this was even natural at all, had whipped up a whirlwind. Embekah's fury, however, proved stronger.

With a wiggle of her fingers, Embekah pinned Patrew to the ground in a magnetic bubble. She maintained minimal control over Patrew's body, enabling him to kick his feet and flail his arms about wildly, but she would not let him ascend from the floor.

"Now, if you care to discuss how unfair life is," Embekah said, summoning her chaise longue to her side so she could sit, "then why don't we talk about certain knights hunting me down for sport?"

"It wasn't for sport," Patrew denied, still squirming.

"Not the answer I was looking for. If you'd chased me so you could make a trophy of my head, I might understand the motivation behind your pursuit."

"I already told you. The king and queen ordered your capture. You've run from your past for years, but it has now caught up with you."

Embekah stroked her chin with her free hand as the other one maintained the field she had over Patrew. To his credit she didn't detect any panic in his speech.

"If by my past you mean the people I was chummy with, I broke off my involvement with those thieves many years ago."

"That doesn't matter."

"Why not?"

"Your stubbornness is not appreciated." Patrew stopped flailing about inside the bubble. "Either come quietly, or so help me, I'll take my blade to you and carve my name on the mount of your bosom."

"Oh, you're such a sweet talker." Embekah thinned her eyes. "You really know how to have your way with a woman. Oh, wait. You're the one bound by my spell. Go figure."

Patrew pointed at his chest. "I could've brought others, ones hungrier with bloodlust than I, along as back-up. For your sake, I defied my knightly obligation by coming here alone."

Embekah looked around. Where were the other knights, anyhow? They wouldn't have stayed outside in the middle of that downpour. Even so, it hardly mattered. Patrew still wanted her shackled until her end days. For that, she could hardly forgive him.

"I don't care if you brought ten, a hundred, or even a thousand knights. What matters is your deliberate disregard for others."

Patrew sighed. "I'm just doing my job here. You're a fugitive, guilty of your association with that thieves' guild."

"Past association!" Embekah fumed. "It's not like I signed up to be a lifelong member."

"Once a thief, always a thief," Patrew grunted, lying perfectly calm now that his efforts to escape the bubble had proven futile.

"I'm almost certain the royal family has better things to do than chase after me. I mean, come on. The very guild to which you associate me with hasn't existed for twenty years!"

The lack of an immediate answer from Patrew filled Embekah with the sense that she'd called him out on his foolhardy capture mission. Her lip stung from the clench of her teeth. This unwise warrior needed a lesson in the error of his ways.

"You and your friends have made a mockery out of justice," Patrew grumbled, proving his reluctance to learn anything. "For that, you must pay."

Embekah smirked. "So I see. The only problem is that you can't take me in if I won't let you leave."

"What?" Patrew's eyes bulged with confusion. "Deny me not, wench. You will face judgment for your crimes against the kingdom."

"Fine." Embekah's hands brightened up in an aura demonstrating her magical prowess. "Since you've broken into my house, it's only fitting that you should stay a spell."

The chamber exploded with energy. Patrew shielded his eyes too late to protect them from the full effect. He uttered something Embekah didn't catch as her magic kicked up a fierce wind in the confines of her hall.

Embekah shrieked the darkest of laughs, her inner core trembling as the enchantment ran its course. Never before had she used her talents so ominously, but she couldn't deny the sick satisfaction she got from producing such power.

As the spell reached its apex, Embekah's body suddenly drained of strength, causing her to collapse upon her floor. The shadows grew all around her, though she tried to maintain consciousness. The bubble around Patrew died off, a second side effect that, along with her abrupt exhaustion, likely resulted from casting dual spells.

In her growing delirium, she thought she saw another figure besides Patrew. She blinked once, finding no further evidence of a third presence in the room.

Shadows overwhelming her, a groan escaped the depths of her lungs.

CHAPTER 5

UNDER ONE ROOF

(Day 8, Year of the Toad)

Embekah awoke in the comfort of her longue, wrapped in both a blanket and her cloak. Drought coated her tongue. As she went to rise, she fell backward in her seat. Evidently her body needed more time to recover from that miscast incantation. Every fiber of her person burned in protest, agony throbbing just beneath the surface of her skin.

Her hand bumped into a slimy lump underneath the blanket. Shedding the cover to check what was under there, Embekah found Halscrad in deep slumber. She prodded him with a finger. In response, Halscrad stirred, glancing up at her. Although she stroked him on the head, he still leaped off the longue and hopped down the hall.

Sighing, she fell back into her chair, striving hard not to think. Everything from before—the chase through the woods, the return to Trava Town, the discovery of an intruder in her home—seemed but a distant memory, like a surreal mist drifting around in her mind.

A draft in her parlor indicated a slight disturbance in her home. She certainly didn't remember flocking to her longue after her scuffle with Patrew. Somehow, this didn't seem like the work of sleepwalker sorcery, either.

Still, the energy in the air whispered to her. Someone who didn't belong in her manor was there. She honed her senses, listened to her instincts, and drew an absolute focus from the darkest depths of her mind. A soft flicker of candlelight danced in the distance; a light breeze's caress murmured in the hall.

The air now present around her carried a repugnant feel. Dread twisted Embekah's heart as she somehow found the strength to toss off her blanket. Everything that had happened before now didn't hold the same perverse effect of this despair. It was like someone had used a dagger to stab a puncture wound right into the mystical realm, showing blatant disregard for the power she always humbly respected.

But that couldn't be. Surely her worry was just a side effect of having Patrew invade her manor space.

Still, it couldn't hurt to investigate, especially since she couldn't remember falling asleep in her longue. She followed where Halscrad had gone off toward until something else caught her interest. Metal clanged from somewhere in the direction of the pantry. She crept down the hall, careful not to brush against anything that might betray her approach. The clatter of what sounded like pans banging together in the water basin thankfully drowned out any noise Embekah made with her feet shuffling across the hardwood surface.

She peered into the kitchen, gaping at what she found. Patrew was still in her home, his back to her at the sink, probably still waiting for her to awaken so that he could haul her off to the dungeon of Castle Leywa. He had cast off his uniform in favor of scruffy long underwear. What in blazes was he doing, setting up camp here until Embekah went quietly with him into captivity?

Embekah tried to summon her magic to her fingertips, but her sorcery lay dormant. Had she exhausted it with that final enchantment? It didn't help that her collapse had given Patrew all the time he needed to relay a message to his fellows in the Royal Army. Was that why he was out of uniform? Did he think he had to bide his time for backup?

Even without her powers, Embekah still had other weapons at her disposal, starting with her fists. Thank goodness Patrew wasn't sporting his armor at present. She could do some serious damage if she got creative. She moved further into the chamber as slow as possible so as not to attract attention. In her side vision she caught a glance of the lumpy powder she had meant to throw out. An idea struck.

Slinking her way to the pouch, she picked it up, firming her lips and breathing softly to further minimize any noises. Then, readjusting her balance to account for the shift in weight, Embekah started for the knight.

Patrew continued to sift through the dishes in the sink, hammering pots together, clinking glasses against their kin. He placed the last goblet into a holder and turned around. In that instant, Embekah thrust the pouch of expired powder at his head, striking him on the side, almost conking him out.

"Devil woman!" Patrew groaned, throwing up an arm to deflect her next two attacks. "What is the meaning of this?"

"What do you think you're doing?" Embekah snatched his arm just as he reached for one of the drying pans.

"I was cleaning up the dishes," Patrew snapped, "after cooking you a delicious breakfast."

Embekah glared at him. "You think you're funny?"

"Not in the least." Patrew pointed at the counter next to her stove. On the countertop sat a plate filled with fluffy scrambled eggs, brown sausage, and a couple slices of toast crisped to a golden hue. "I figured I'd earn my keep around here while you recovered from your spell."

Her jaw dropped. Had he really gone to such great lengths just for one meal, for her no less? This couldn't be. She choked on her own saliva, the breath she held onto well past stale.

She took a step away from Patrew, her cheeks stinging from her own miscalculation. The pouch slipped from her fingers and struck the countertop next to her with a resounding thud. She could've killed the man with that lump of powder, and all because she failed to watch him even a minute longer. The whiff of sausage tickling her nostrils didn't make this any easier for her.

"So you put me in my longue," Embekah said.

"Well, I didn't think it was appropriate for me to leave you lying sprawled about on the floor. My lady, I do not believe I have ever seen a woman so readily capable of drooling out a lake onto her floor."

Angry warmth swarmed in her cheeks, her nostrils flaring. "At least I don't have the audacity to take off my clothes in a stranger's home."

"It wouldn't exactly be prudent for me to wear my armor all the time, given the circumstances."

"What circumstances?" Embekah crossed her arms.

Patrew gestured for Embekah to grab her plate and sit down to eat. Refusing to offer Patrew any shred of trust, she snatched the plate from the counter, jerked a fork from the silverware drawer, and stomped over to her table. She eyed him with suspicion as he sat directly across from her, his face aglow in smugness.

"Well, for one thing, you've been out cold for a good couple of days. Secondly, if I had the ability to leave this place, I already would have, with you as my prisoner of course."

"What are you talking about? You can leave at any time." Embekah growled, unable to believe a single word flying out of his mouth.

Patrew thinned his eyes at Embekah, the joviality wiped clean from his face with a scowl. "The last spell you cast has bound me to your pathetic hovel. I have tried many times in the past two days to walk right out the front door, or crawl out through a window, only to find my every attempt foiled."

"Excuse me?" Embekah cried. Was there no end to the number of crimes Patrew accused her of committing? She definitely didn't need him blaming her for his abduction, because that was one charge that the knight might very well be able to make stick.

"That's right. It's your fault. Before you utter another word," Patrew went on, smirking as Embekah's face twitched, "I've spent the time you've snoozed away to try and break through the barrier preventing anyone's passage. We're essentially trapped in your own dwelling."

"It beats being stuck in the dungeon of Leywa Castle."

Patrew walked over to the ice-box, where he then opened the door to remove a flask of milk. He uncorked the container before retrieving another goblet from the holder. Filling the glass, he set the now-empty milk flask into the sink.

"It figures that you'd have no inkling of the harm you've done, oh great sorceress," he said, downing the liquid in a single swig.

Embekah could barely see out of the tiny slits she'd made with her eyes, her contempt for Patrew all but blinding her. "Is that another jab at sorcery?"

Setting the goblet down on the counter in front of him, Patrew spoke in an almost gentlemanly tone with her. "The truth is that you are responsible for our present predicament."

She flung her fork against the side of her plate, the silverware clanging against the porcelain, not a single crumb of her meal touched. What she wouldn't give to strike at him until every last drop of blood dripped from his rotting carcass. But he stood too far away for her to get him again. After what she had done with the stale powder, she couldn't even hope to clobber him before he mounted a proper defense.

With a smirk creasing his face in response to Embekah's refusal to eat, Patrew said, "Have you nothing to say for yourself?"

An animal-like yowl escaped Embekah's windpipe. "I still don't believe you."

"What don't you believe?" He raised an eyebrow at her. "That you caused that barrier that's keeping us in?"

"No, that you keep on accusing me of crimes against your precious kingdom, and then have the gall to go around strutting naked in my very own kitchen."

Patrew glanced down at his midnight blue long underwear. "I would hardly call this naked, my lady."

Embekah nearly gagged again, the knight's persistence driving her crazy with rage. That he could surrender to his arrogance so easily just made his bullying worse.

"If I could take you in, you'd already be in shackles." Patrew strode over to open the nearest window, gesturing at the countryside beyond. "As it is right now, I can no longer tread across the fields and through the woods, all because of you."

Embekah plucked her fork off the table, stabbing her sausage with it. Eying the meat warily, her stomach threatened to make her suffer if she didn't feed it soon. Through forced will, she tore a chunk off with her teeth.

"You're able to open the window. That means you're lying."

"Am I?" Patrew crossed his arms. "Well, then, why don't you prove just how deceptive I can be?"

The meaty morsel snagged halfway down Embekah's throat. With another hefty swallow she nudged it onward, and then coughed to clear the blockage. "You are deluding yourself so much that any effort I make in exposing your lies will go ignored, Patrew."

Grunting, the knight took his fist and hurled it toward the air in the open space of the window. Inside the frame a violet spark crackled, then disappeared. He threw two more punches, each meeting with the same results as the first.

Embekah sat there with her mouth hanging open, another bite of sausage mere inches away from her lips. "I have no idea how this happened." The tremble in her voice undermined her words. Patrew really was speaking the truth to her, much as she wanted to deny it.

"You were trying to escape incarceration, a logical act for a proven criminal," Patrew said, applying a gentler tone. "Fear makes us do crazy things."

"So you really can't leave then?" Her temple throbbed with annoyance. At the rate she was going, she might never be rid of the guy.

"You've trapped us both in here. No one can get in or out thanks to you. That's why I felt perfectly justified to make myself at home here." He reclined in his seat, interlacing his fingers behind his head as he winked at her.

The way he spoke so casually incensed Embekah to where her fingers strained from clutching the tabletop too hard.

"You're lying," she accused.

Was Patrew's story just that, a story? For all she knew he might have sought the aid of a royal mage. Perhaps the warlock even supplied him with a tiny charm capable of producing the effect. Considering the soldier's earlier aversion to sorcery, this possibility seemed unlikely.

Then again, the deflection of Patrew's fist from the other side of the window gave him more credibility. But surely Embekah couldn't have trapped the both of them inside an invisible force field.

Not without the mushrooms she'd needed before, at any rate.

"I still think you're lying," she reaffirmed her suspicions, despite evidence to the contrary.

"Don't test me, Embekah," warned the knight, "for I can make your life thrice as miserable as it is now."

"Assuming what you're telling me is true," Embekah made sure to keep her temper in check, "why would I trap you? I would think the likelier thing I would have done would be to banish you from my house, and then establish the magical wall keeping us in."

Patrew shrugged his shoulders. "I don't believe you intentionally set the spell which has ensnared us, but by the same token we are still stuck in here. Nothing I've tried has broken down your barrier."

"Very well, then." Embekah rolled up her sleeves. "I shall make it a point to rid myself of the barrier, and then you."

Patrew exploded with laughter, causing hot air to shoot right out of Embekah's nose in a huff.

"You dare mock me?" Embekah spat.

The knight gagged on a guffaw, holding up a finger as if to ask for a moment to regain his composure. The length of time it took him to calm down suggested he wasn't particularly interested in halting the chuckles.

While the knight brought himself out of his laughing stupor, Embekah struggled against the temptation to transfigure him into an animal. After mulling it over another moment or two, Embekah unclenched her fists. In any event, she had Halscrad. What did this knight's opinion even matter to her?

"Fine! Strut about in your pajamas, you freak. Your presence under my roof will not hinder me in the least," she said, clenching her jaw.

Hopefully, the idea of welcoming him into her domain would stop his exaggerations. He must have realized that he'd be privy to her every spell she could possibly cast. If he was smart, he'd go back home, and forget all about arresting her.

Instead, Patrew went to expedite the drying of the pans with a cloth. "Don't mind if I do. You're certainly being more cooperative than I ever deemed possible."

"Oh, you have just got to go!" Embekah eradicated the charade with her outburst. She charged at him, tore the washcloth out of his hand, threw it to the ground, and stomped on it. "Here is what I think of your attempt to make yourself at home!"

Whatever mirth had gleamed in his eyes a second ago dropped sharply from his expression. "Make no mistake, Embekah. The moment we set foot on the other side of your door, I'll escort you to the castle. There you shall face a trial before the royal court. They will find you guilty on so many levels you'll never again know the sun's warmth."

Embekah faked a yawn, accentuating this by slapping her palm against her lips a couple of times. "You're that hard-pressed to condemn me, eh?"

"I am just a man duty-bound to my kingdom." Patrew sighed. "Were you truly loyal to your countrymen, you might appreciate my position more."

"I offer my loyalty freely to the most deserving," Embekah argued. "Only my toad has proven worthy of such devotion."

Having spoken her mind, Embekah plodded into the hall and down the way to the front door of her manor. There, she jerked the handle violently, the rattling trying her very last nerve. The second the door came undone, she started forth for the outer world. A bolt of static, like the field that had prevented Patrew's fist from making its way outside, struck her, knocking the sorceress backward.

"You have to be kidding me!" Embekah said, prying herself off of the floor.

"I tried to tell you," Patrew offered, along with a shrug. "The very same thing happened to me a couple of hours after you fell unconscious. Whichever spell you cast before has evidently backfired, just like your effort to disguise your presence at the Z'lymor Inn. Yes, my dear Embekah, I knew it was you sitting in the darkest corner of the establishment. I should've detained you right then. Alas, at that point I hadn't yet made the connection."

The shock of his reveal paralyzed her for a second. Because she'd been so intent on those mushrooms, she'd given him the opportunity to follow her all the way from Trava Town. Blast it all, she'd led the man right to her very doorstep! He only had to wait until he believed her defenses were at their weakest.

Regaining the rebellious fire in her belly, Embekah stormed past him. Just because she couldn't go through the front door didn't mean there was only the one way to get out of the house.

She reached the back entrance, only to face the same result. Screaming from the frustration of having to deal with this setback, she tried to exit through any window not permanently sealed by layers of dust and grime. Again, she proved herself the champion of failure.

"What gives?" She tried shoving her fingers through the one window she could pry open. Another block came into being. Once she retracted her fingers, it faded from sight.

Striding up behind her, Patrew whispered, "I keep trying to explain to you that your spell has contained us inside this mysterious field. We are both stuck in a situation of your own doing."

Embekah didn't want to hear another word of this. Yet she couldn't deny the presence of an unknown force thwarting her escape. The only thing she was certain of was that she couldn't try to break the spell anytime soon, not with Patrew scheming to whisk her away to an even darker prison.

At least here she still had all the comforts, such as they were, of home.

"I find this no less repulsive than you," Patrew spoke with an air of sympathy. "But I am a man of patience. It's taken me this long to track you down. I can wait another while to acquaint you with the dungeon of Castle Leywa."

Embekah shot him a nasty glare. "Am I to feel bad that you've squandered your life on such a worthless cause?"

Patrew took a step back, the corners of his mouth spreading upward. "You really shouldn't speak so poorly about yourself."

"I was referring to your hunt," Embekah threw her head back in disgust, "and since when do you actually care about my ego?"

"I'm more concerned with the possibility that you might be a whiner, actually," he quipped, grinning at her. "The very thought sends a nasty shiver down my spine. Whiners aren't exactly the best folks to face imprisonment with."

An impulse to smack the smugness clear off his face taunted Embekah. Although he was trapped in her house too, the fact that he still had his blade to drive into her heart prevented her from acting accordingly. Biding her time seemed the safer course.

"Then perhaps you should tend to earning your keep," she said through gnashed teeth.

"That would be a wonderful idea, my dear." He cracked his smile even wider, apparently cherishing this moment.

Embekah groaned, twisted about, and marched off. Was she really stuck with this jerk? With any luck, she wouldn't have to put up with such rubbish for long.

######

(Day 11, Year of the Toad)

For the first couple of days afterward, Embekah avoided any room Patrew made use of. This didn't stop her from watching him at a distance, though she scrambled to busy herself with other things whenever he caught her spying on him. It drove her mad how she couldn't stop fretting over where he was and what he did in the house. He could plunge his blade into her heart at any time. She had to be ready.

Despite this, she couldn't dismiss the way he swept the pantry, dusted off the shelves, or kept general clutter down to a minimum. Patrew didn't even gripe about Halscrad's presence in her home, although the knight couldn't fully control the way his nose twitched each time Halscrad bounded into the room.

Beyond the clattering of silverware and the babble of tap water from her sink, Embekah's ears detected a shrill sound. Was that knight whistling while tidying up her dishes? She rubbed her temple as a migraine set in. Why couldn't she have been trapped in the same house as a man who actually carried a tune well?

As the knight brought the kitchen up to par, Embekah wandered into the chamber. Her fingers skirted across every countertop in search of grime, her nose sniffing the air for mold. Every dish set upon a towel glistened in the room's lighting, a speck of dust hard to find even in the bath of sunlight.

Was it just her imagination, or had Patrew repainted her cabinets a snowy white, rather than leave them the smoky gray they'd always been? Perhaps having Patrew as an involuntary roommate might not be the worst thing ever.

Loathingly admiring Patrew's handiwork, Embekah's mind turned to an unrelated concern. Where was Halscrad? Embekah hadn't seen him for some time. An idea soon developed in her mind. Did the spell she had supposedly conjured up affect animals the same as it did people?

For a moment, the possibility that Halscrad might've been outside gave Embekah cause for hope. She glanced outside at the forest. If the toad had managed to leap through an open window, would he bother to return? If he did come back, might Embekah find a way to exploit his excursions somehow? It sounded so awful to think in such terms, but Patrew wouldn't hesitate to take advantage of the situation either.

Another shrill note from Patrew's pucker drove a wedge of determination into Embekah. She would continue to lay low as much as possible. Only when she knew Patrew suspected nothing whatsoever would Embekah go forth with her plans for Halscrad.

Embekah covered her ears up until she arrived in the sanctity of her bedroom, and then slammed the door shut. The memory of Patrew's tune lingered for hours afterwards.

CHAPTER 6

HOUSEMATES

(Day 35, Year of the Toad)

Do not seek fate to accommodate your every whim. Embekah had heard her grandfather recite these words many times over the years. Until Patrew became trapped under her roof, she'd never placed much merit in Grandpa's advice.

A mistake blessed with opportunity, for though Elder Mare was now gone from this land, the memory of his sage counsel remained imprinted on her psyche. In the first few days, she found herself rehearsing every word he had ever shared with her. Not the idle dialogue of daily life, but the phrases that had real value. Of late, his ideas with regard to the virtues of fortitude seemed especially appropriate, given the newfound climate of her home.

What had been the inconvenience of a few days soon spilled over into a week. Patrew's presence in her home then turned into a month-long stay, and signs of this ending anytime soon remained elusive, at best. Embekah couldn't tell whether the hairs she swept off the floor every other day belonged to Patrew, or to patches of mold naturally forming throughout the house.

As of yet, Embekah hadn't further developed her plan to send Halscrad over the window sill to the field right outside of her house. Every time she glanced over her shoulder, there was Patrew, polishing a shelf with nothing but a washcloth and undying vigor, or mending the broken leg of Embekah's dining hall chair. At times she mumbled under her breath, watching clutter accumulated over the years vanish without a trace, almost as if by magic. Every door hanging loosely on its hinges grew more reinforced with a certain knight's assistance.

How could Embekah keep despising a man who made himself so useful? Plus, the ripples of his biceps certainly proved an additional commodity. And his posterior...could there be a finer display of flawless flesh?

Still, she couldn't forget that this was the guy who had stalked her all the way from Trava Town, who had invaded her home and caused her to cast a spell that had trapped them both here. He'd even pinned all the blame of their predicament solely on Embekah.

Thus, she stayed in her chamber a good portion of the time. At dawn she would slip out of bed after hearing Patrew's door shut. Patrew, for whatever reason he may have had, usually stayed up gazing at the stars. This particular pattern served them both well, isolating them from the other. Perhaps it was for the best, seeing as how blame deflection provided them with their one thing in common.

Besides, Embekah still had Halscrad to confide in, too. This thought provided her with an almost uncontrolled euphoria, until guilt wrenched her gut. How dare she take any joy in having a friend while Patrew had no one to turn to?

One critical drawback Embekah found in the new living arrangement pertained to the food in the pantry. If push came to shove, she had a chamber she could go to for replenishing her edibles. It wouldn't take more than an ounce of sorcery to stock up on such staple foods, either.

Unfortunately, this would only work on things like bread and vegetables. At her skill level, she could not copy magical ingredients, such as exotic toadstools. It required a sorcerer of the highest caliber, godlike almost, to meddle with the more mystical elements of this life. Embekah hadn't experienced enough of the world at large to ascend to such a ranking. Hardly surprising, considering how she'd let herself be bullied into exile.

Still, she wasn't out of supplies just yet, aside from mushrooms, and soon she would send Halscrad out on his first gathering mission.

For now, she hoped to maintain this pace, as well as her sanity, until the magical barrier eroded altogether.

Embekah had just devoured half a bowl of mush one morning when Patrew briskly approached her, his face drained of color, his nose crinkled as though a hideous stench had declared war on the knight's sense of smell.

"Of all the things I've seen in my life, I've never known a chamber which has gotten so moldy as to allow a whole forest to grow inside it."

Embekah struggled not to smirk at him. "That is my forest room."

"This doesn't even make the least bit of sense," Patrew said, rubbing his palm across his scalp. "How could you let a room get like that?"

"The indoor forest resulted directly from my power's first manifestation." Grazing her chin thoughtfully, Embekah cracked a smile at him. "If I remember correctly, I was using my power to duplicate this rare orchid I had found in the forest. But I must've gotten a hand gesture wrong or misspoke because I wound up with woods in my house."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" Patrew grumbled, making his way over to the cupboard. From there he pulled out a container, took the lid off, and reached inside for a handful of pre-shelled hazelnuts Embekah had obtained on her last successful shopping quest. En route toward his mouth, a few of the nuts slipped between his fingers and spilled onto the floor.

Embekah stared at him. "What's that supposed to mean? And would you kindly not make a mess with those nuts?"

"It isn't the first time you've messed up with your sorcery," he said, glibly shoveling a second stash of hazelnuts between his lips. "Well, technically it is, but it doesn't surprise me that you aren't nearly as competent on the whole magic thing as you claim to be.

"Also, by the by," he continued, making an arc with one arm to indicate the room around them, "your definition of mess bewilders me. The sorry state in which I've found this place suggests that you are far more unkempt than I."

Embekah strode over to Patrew, snatching the jar of nuts away from him, refusing to let him have any more. "You're calling me both unskilled and messy?"

"More like unpolished," Patrew amended, seizing the container back from Embekah, letting another cluster of nuts clack against the flooring. "In more ways than one, of course."

Her face probably flashing ever so red, Embekah drew in a breath before muttering another word. "Who died and made you mage?"

Patrew popped another hazelnut into his mouth, almost exaggerating the crunches he made with his teeth. His smile made Embekah's heart bleed even more contempt for him than before.

"You're a cad!" Embekah couldn't quell the shriek that had sat in her lungs, awaiting release.

"I'm just pointing out the truth, which you don't seem to manage well."

Embekah scowled. If she could just throw the knight out of her home! But unfortunately magic had gotten her into this mess, and so far none of her spell reversals had gotten her out. It certainly didn't help that Patrew had made himself so at home here, slanting back in his chair at times or swiping the hazelnuts that she'd paid good, hard coin for. Was this why she felt she couldn't call her home such any longer?

And now a whole month had lapsed with that blasted barrier confining the pair of them to this corner of the world. Although part of her suspected this was her doing, she wouldn't admit it to Patrew. His very grin and the glimmer in his eyes suggested he longed to see her fall hard and fast.

Why did people like Patrew derive such bliss out of other's failures?

"If I have any trouble handling the truth, it's only because people keep throwing it back at me to where I'm driven mad," Embekah finally spat out, jerking the jar of hazelnuts out of his hands yet again. Setting the container down on the counter, she marched back on over to the mush she'd abandoned minutes ago.

Grunting in triumph, Patrew popped another nut in his mouth, cracking the air with another deliberate crunch.

"I can't believe you," Embekah said with a snarl.

"What now?"

Embekah spooned another clump of mush toward her mouth, slurping it up as she scrutinized the knight with her eyes. "You speak of being chivalrous, of upholding your duty to your kingdom. But you won't stop pestering me at every turn. You're impossible."

"I would treat any fair maiden with the respect she deserves. You, however," he stretched his smile out even further, "are a trollop of the worst sort, threatening to desecrate the very morality of Trava. You seek easy answers instead of hard fixes. You think everything has to happen according to what you want. Why else would you dabble in such profane chicanery?

"Quite frankly, Embekah, you are an embarrassment of riches."

Embekah squealed in revulsion. "I have got to get you out of here. You clearly don't get me at all."

"Oh, you think so?" Patrew retorted with a snort.

"You ridicule and condemn my use of magic, all the while claiming to be the noblest of men. What a vile swine you are!" She thumbed her nose up at him, making it look like a snout to further prove her point. Then she added, "Oink, oink! My name's Patrew. A touch of class I lack, especially towards those who I attack!"

His fingers raveling and unraveling, he said, "I'll have you know that I came to my rank fairly, not by cheating as you do with your wretched sorcery."

"Oh, really? Somehow I doubt very much that the king would have rewarded you with the finest steed in all the land."

In truth she couldn't remember ever seeing Patrew riding a horse. This didn't necessarily mean he had none, but every glance outside her window failed to provide the view of a stallion tethered to a rein, awaiting his return. The knight may have tied his ride to a tree deeper in the woods outside, but even that possibility seemed far-fetched to her.

Embekah ate the last of her mush as she ushered her bowl over to her sink. "Where my sorcery is concerned, keep your opinions to yourself. This is still my home, and I'll be vexed if you dare insult me or my craft ever again."

This finally seemed to smack the superiority right out of the knight.

"What, Patrew? Are you suddenly thunderstruck?"

"I can't believe you just questioned my honor," Patrew said, reaching for the now-half-empty hazelnut container.

"You called me a trollop."

"Yes, but I wasn't trying to be mean about it like you were." Another nut went flying into his mouth, this one going down with only a single grinding of his teeth.

Embekah slammed her bowl into her sink. "At least I don't harbor a grudge over things that happened decades ago."

"It's not a grudge," Patrew snapped, "and I would very much prefer it if you wouldn't demean my work."

"Oh, like how you demean magic?" Embekah snatched the hazelnuts out of his grip again, sending many flying all over the place during the capture.

"What I do makes a difference to others," Patrew shot back. "What you do makes no difference to anyone except maybe your toad."

"You leave Halscrad out of this!"

"The bloody hell I will." Patrew grabbed a broom and started sweeping up the nuts into a pile. "I should have guessed you were even more annoying up close and in person than as an elusive outcast."

Embekah gasped. "So now you're calling me annoying?"

"If the title fits," he said, grunting again.

Embekah tromped out of the room in a huff, the throbbing at the base of her skull pulsating with enough intensity to blindside her. Tightness enveloped the innards of her chest as she fought for every breath. She'd asked for none of this. She'd never wanted to put up one of the most belligerent magic-haters ever to cross her threshold.

Somehow Embekah navigated her way to her bedroom. She threw the door closed, then staggered over to her bed and collapsed upon the mattress, grappling with the fiery throbbing spanning just about every last inch of her body before passing out.
CHAPTER 7

THREADS FOR PATREW

(Day 38, Year of the Toad)

Embekah didn't see Patrew again for about another three days after the fallout at breakfast. When they had finally made that first gaze in almost half a week, Embekah couldn't stop herself from staring intensely at the growth around Patrew's lips. His beard just about concealed his smirk, but no amount of facial hair could mask the glower in his eyes.

Five weeks into having a houseguest now, the only thing occupying Embekah's time was her effort to break the barrier around her house. So far, her every spell had met with no success at all.

While Embekah had all but cut herself off entirely from Patrew, she uncovered no evidence that he'd given up making a contribution to her home. He'd labeled jars, organized books, and reused many materials from the more unsalvageable pieces of furniture as spare parts for other sets. Embekah gnawed on her lip upon seeing this, for her magic could have just as easily made the repairs. That she might owe him anything made her scream.

She didn't see much of Halscrad these days either. The toad remained scarce as hostilities ascended to dangerous levels. She'd surely lose it if Patrew somehow won over Halscrad's loyalty, too.

Despite the setback of sharing her home with a man so hungry for her arrest, Embekah's sleeping chamber was still hers. Patrew never went into her inner woods or down to the cellar, either. At least she still had some semblance of refuge from the knight, despite the shield around her manor.

Erring on the side of caution, Embekah rarely embarked into the kitchen. Each morning she cracked open her door, listening for any hint of movement from Patrew or Halscrad. Nothing. Only the stillness in the hallway greeted her.

Refusing to starve to death in her own house, Embekah waved her wrist and snapped her fingers at the crack of dawn, commanding slabs of meat, water, and fruits to her side. If it came down to a premature demise, she'd sooner die from stale air than from lack of nourishment.

Of course, with that force field cutting off access to the outer world, Embekah had no choice but to remember that the luxury of eating was not without its limits.

Confined to her room with nearly every passing day, the pounding in her heart increased. More often than not she'd cast a nervous glance over her shoulder, even after bolting her door shut. Without realizing it at first, staring at the same four walls brought an unease deep within her, which soon festered into something darker, more primal. Towards the end of the fifth week, Embekah attempted to shout at the top of her lungs. Only silence fled from her lips.

She tried keeping her eyes shut. Her breaths grew more labored with the lack of fresh air. She opened her eyes, glancing around her chamber. The shadows crawling on the walls or down on the floor by the side of her bed seemed ready to strangle her.

She darted toward the hallway screaming, struggling to swallow air, to crush the misery rotting away at her insides. Before, isolating herself from the world hadn't been so bad, for she still had the option of traveling to distant lands where people didn't want her dead. If only she'd relocated elsewhere.

Truth be told, she couldn't have imagined doing so. During the past twenty years, she'd made the best of a bad situation. Just because she hit a few rough patches along the way, it didn't mean that running from her problems was the solution. Living inside the kingdom's boundaries, in an undisclosed location of course, seemed the best way to stick it to her enemies.

But now the familiar things she used to find shelter in carried a grim tone, as though Patrew weren't the only one wishing her an ill fate. Until the barrier had been erected, life hadn't felt so bleak. Was this a side effect of the entrapment spell?

She gulped down another breath, gnashing her teeth, letting all of her strength accumulate in her belly. Then with a yowl capable of awakening the deadest of sleepers, Embekah fought back against her own terror. Then she collapsed.

She laid on the floor, forcing herself not to succumb to the trembles. Much as she loathed bothering to think about Patrew at this instant, she couldn't help but wonder why he hadn't pounded on her door. There might have been no sound with her first howl, but her ears had picked up on noise.

So why hadn't Patrew's ears done the same?

Slowly she stood up, using the bed as leverage while balancing herself. A slight vertigo clung to her momentarily, but she shrugged it off with a determined exhalation. She then unlocked her door and passed on through, refusing to remain confined to the four walls she'd gawked at for too long.

Embekah poked a foot out into the corridor, a certain unfamiliarity settling in. Of course she recognized her surroundings. Yet something seemed amiss. From the air she breathed to the wall molding she ran her fingers on, a foreign element nagged at her. Regardless, she felt more at ease out in the open of her house than back in her own chamber. How could this have been, though? A bedroom was a person's most guarded sanctuary, a place where the body could lower its defenses in response to the stress the world constantly put on it. Now Embekah couldn't look at it the same way without remembering the panic that had almost squeezed the life out of her.

Down the hallway she crept, watching her silhouette shift in size whenever she approached or walked away from a light. At least her shadow was still hers for the moment.

Stop it, Embekah, she told herself. You're going to drive yourself absolutely batty.

The floor creaked underneath her, making her jump in place. She produced a bright aura around her entire form, partly to light the hall, and partly to protect herself from whatever threat lay lurking in the dark.

The amount of magic she put on it proved inadequate in preventing fingers from resting upon her shoulder.

Embekah again cut loose with the intensity of her voice, halting only when another hand muffled her mouth. She thrashed about in the arms of her captor, her cheeks thronging with heat, her every instinct primal and geared toward survival.

"Must you make such noise?" Patrew whispered in her ear.

Embekah tore away from him the moment he released his hold on her, reaching the end of the hallway before facing him again. "You jerk! How dare you sneak up on me like that?"

"You didn't hear my approach from behind?" Patrew pounded his foot into the floor, scanning the surface underneath him a second later. "I'm surprised no one has gotten injured from falling through these boards to the cellar."

"Then you may very well be the first," she glanced downward at his mid-section, "if you don't immediately cease eating all the fatty foods in my pantry."

A deep breath exploded from Patrew's nostrils. "Insults are so unbecoming for a lady."

"I wouldn't mock you if you didn't sneak up on me like that," Embekah said, letting her pulse slow to normal. Then, almost as an afterthought, she added, "You do that really well, you know?"

"Do what?"

"Sneak up on me. If I hadn't been so sloppy, you mightn't have ever gotten past my front door."

Patrew beamed at her, his expression sincere. "You really mean that, don't you?"

"Yes, uh, no, um, I mean...look." She gave herself a quick pause, and then stared straight at him again. "I admit I probably haven't been the most accommodating hostess you've ever known. It's not just that you've annoyed the hell out of me, but also because the only company I've ever entertained before devours flies with his tongue."

Patrew closed the distance between them by a few feet, carefully maintaining a range outside of contact. "You never had anyone over?"

"How could I when people like you were hunting me down at near every turn?" Embekah sighed, her voice even. Despite the number of ways Patrew managed to get under her skin, she couldn't cling to her resentment forever.

Oddly enough, it did feel good having someone to talk to besides herself. In addition, it might not have been wise of her to discount a truce with Patrew, especially given what went down in her chamber minutes ago, whatever that was.

"I was just doing my job," he said, his tone delicate.

"I know."

Her acknowledgment made Patrew blink. "You know?"

Embekah strode toward her housemate, the tension in her muscles dispersing with every step. How easily she forgot Patrew had helped her around here on more than one occasion. Duty may have been his reason for coming, but he appeared to be making the best of things, considering how little he complained. She tossed a smile his way.

"It's only been the center of our argument since you stormed into my house," she said.

"Oh."

"Sorry for insulting you before."

Patrew grinned back. "Think nothing of it. As a guest I could mind my manners more around here. Though it might be easy to blame you for our current state, I'm not exactly guiltless either."

"So what do we do?"

Patrew didn't even wait a second before supplying her with an answer. "To start with, we could find me a fresh change of clothes. I didn't exactly come into your home with a rucksack full of tunics and trousers. What I do have has already given me hives."

Pretending not to hear this last part, Embekah eyed the loose threads on Patrew's outfit. It proved quite a struggle for her not to cringe at the prospect of unseen blemishes. Her magic might keep his every fabric string intact, but using such power would only deplete her remaining supplies much quicker.

"On this matter I may be able to help you," she said, snapping her fingers as an idea came to her. "Follow me down to the cellar."

A flicker of distrust marred Patrew's eyes. "This isn't some attempt at deception, is it?" he asked with a grunt. "You might just do away with me the very moment my foot hits the basement floor."

"Bah!" Embekah grumbled, but easily shook off her repugnance. "Do you know how hard it is to rid the air of a corpse's stench, even with magic? I'm not exactly made of scented candles, you know."

"Really?" Patrew stifled a titter. "I can't imagine you not having those items in your inventory."

"Ah, yes, once again I'm being grotesquely misjudged."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Patrew stroked his beard, displaying no evidence of fathoming what she meant.

"You only see me as a sorceress and nothing else, do you?"

Patrew started to speak, but let his mouth close without spouting off something damning.

"Don't worry, Patrew. I'm not mad. I've wasted too much time and energy these last several days in that condition."

"Then what are you?"

Embekah slinked past him, her hip lightly grazing his as she lead him away from the hall to the cellar, her mind chewing on his question for a moment or so. "Disappointed."

"Why?"

"Suffice it to say I wish you'd stop holding my status as a sorceress over my head. Do I define you solely as a knight?"

Without waiting for an answer, she reached the bottom step, making a sharp right turn. A musk of mildew and putrefaction filled the air the instant Embekah opened the cellar door. Behind her she could hear Patrew muttering to himself, though he made no further mentions of mysticism.

In a corner Embekah located a trunk. She dusted it off, forcing it open seconds later with about half of her bodily might. Inside she found several tunics, slacks and cloaks, some of which carried mold and loose strings worse than Patrew's present attire. With a gesture she invited him to sort through the chest's contents, to see if he couldn't find a few items pleasing to his eye. As he did this, Embekah receded slowly from the chamber, and then wandered off upstairs.

Upon reaching the top, she pressed her back against a wall, weighing her options. What she needed was more tenacity. How much longer until that barrier broke down and released them from its grasp? She couldn't spend the next several years of her life shacking up with a fool whose chief obligation was to throw her to the nearest dragon for practicing sorcery.

"Embekah? Where'd you go?" Patrew's voice echoed from the cellar.

"I had to get a drink of water," Embekah lied, her throat not even the slightest bit parched.

"Oh."

The neutrality in his voice made discerning whether or not he believed her difficult. She grabbed a goblet from her cupboard, setting it on the counter with a thud loud enough to catch Patrew's ears, thereby preventing him from accusing her of lying. Him and his lousy charges against her! Why couldn't he just mind his own business?

Just because there's a barrier keeping you stuck in here, it doesn't mean there aren't ways for you to rid yourself of Sir Achoo of the pretentious table.

The whisper came from somewhere nearby. Could it have been a simple draft spurring on her imagination? As she cast a final glance over her shoulder, dread again thundered in her heart, although Patrew didn't have anything to do with it. Still gathering her bearings after her earlier hysteria, Embekah had few options. "I'm going to bed, Patrew. Have a good night."

With that, she retreated back into her sleeping chamber, this time perhaps for a fortnight.

CHAPTER 8

INDOOR FOREST

(Day 39, Year of the Toad)

Embekah tossed about under the confinement of her sheets, snagging little more than a wink or two of sleep. The same chills from the day before ravaged her heart again. Unable to rest because of the threats that could harm her, she threw on the first thing she could find. A migraine kept her from noticing how mismatched her stockings were. Not keen on any lengthy preparation for her day, she bolted from her room as a second panic took hold inside of her.

What drove her crazier than anything else about this was that she couldn't identify what had gotten under her skin. She had this sense that an ominous presence had somehow established itself under her roof. Had Patrew brought something with him into her abode?

Remembering Patrew's gripe about the forest in her manor, Embekah realized where she might find some comfort. Surely Patrew wouldn't dare encroach upon her flora-filled chamber a second time. And there were animal denizens in the room, clinging to the trees Embekah had so systematically swiped from the landscape beyond her walls. Their presence might reassure her.

She ambled quickly through the house. Aside from how her joints occasionally popped, her lungs expelled a wheeze, and her feet scraped against the floorboard, she maintained a somewhat stealthy cover.

While motioning past Patrew's door she paused, listening for any sign of activity. A light rasp, possibly a snore, proved the only utterance she caught coming from inside his room. Satisfied that Patrew would not disturb her plans, she hurried off to the last refuge she had from that awful soldier.

Just the notion of roaming throughout her indoor woods without worry of treason and backfiring incantations made her heart sing. A respite these days might very well make all the difference in her survival.

She made it to the access, behind which lay her captive woods. Without thinking twice about it, Embekah twisted the knob and penetrated the tranquility of her second most cherished chamber.

The spread of the grove was no bigger than her pantry. A piney aroma made Embekah close her eyes, numbing her pain. In this fragment of the world she could do as she pleased. Mockery, persecution, and loathing stayed outside, right where they belonged. Although unable to see the clouds outside, given the rafters blocking her view, she dreamed of spreading her mystic wings high above the Travan fields and mountains. Despite her captivity, no height seemed too great for her reach.

Sparrows and robins caught in the unnatural habitat chirped softly, having long grown accustomed to their indoor environs. She cracked a smile at the melodies filling the air, the songs of birds enjoying simpler things. If only she could sing among them.

She shook her head. How was it that everyone else but her made the best out of a bad situation? She could learn a thing or two from the birds, as well as Patrew. If they had all adapted, then maybe she would, too.

Tuning out all of the chirping, Embekah moved deeper into the grove, arriving at its heart a few minutes. She searched for a small, smooth boulder for sitting on. One near the centermost tree enticed her eye. Planting her rump upon it, she glimpsed above. In her mind she pictured the sun instead of the ceiling of her room.

But her brain soon strayed towards thoughts of her prison, the captivity she had supposedly inflicted upon her manor. What exactly had she done? More importantly, why couldn't she remember doing it?

Unfortunately, the orchard surrounding her proved just how unskilled she'd been, at least in her earliest work. Her magic had lopped off the tops of the tallest pines in her haste to ensnare a snippet of forest. It was only now that most of those afflicted trees had grown back their uppermost branches. Some, however, had not survived. Two or three logs sprawled across the chamber provided a eulogy to the fallen timber.

Embekah could just hear Patrew's judgment on the matter resonating between her ears. He'd undoubtedly point out how awful she tended to her forest, goading Embekah into such guilt that he might not get the chance to haul her off to the dungeon.

A breeze kicked up. For a second Embekah could've sworn she'd heard a thunderous rumble. Not possible. She'd just seen it sunny outside a few moments ago. Unless someone had access to magic matching or surpassing her level, there shouldn't have been a reason for the noise.

From underneath her came a croak. She gave a quick gasp before looking down at her feet. There she found a familiar lumpy shape meshing in with the grassy blades, camouflaging itself.

"Halscrad!" She reached for him, but got no response. The toad hopped into a bush, rustling the branches and leaves in the wake of his departure. What was going on with him?

The grove shook with another snarl of thunder, a tremor rattling everything around her. A pine toppled over and came crashing down, barely missing Embekah on its way toward oblivion. Embekah gaped at the fallen tree, snapping herself out of her shock. She considered weaving a protective dome around herself. Without knowing from which direction the chaos came, Embekah couldn't risk exposing herself to an unseen enemy.

Now on full alert, Embekah peeked around, her eyes adjusting to the sharp decline in light. She enclosed a fist, generated energy inside her sealed fingers, and unraveled her fingers once more. A globe of pure light drifted away from her palm, rising to an orbit several meters above her head.

Sadly, what light she had managed to generate scarcely caused the shade around her to retreat.

"What manner of storm is this?" Embekah asked aloud, her voice steady despite the wind slapping her in the face with sandpaper force. "I wouldn't expect such weather inside my own home."

Then again, one wouldn't have anticipated the presence of a forest in it, either.

A broken branch sliced her skin open in a few spots. Each time she tried to mend her wounds with a quick healing spell, the force struck with another combination of wind and pine fragments. Fresher wounds joined the ones already etched upon her. What manner of gale attacked with such precision, such motive?

A pool of blood forming in her mouth, Embekah dove, burying her face in the ground. Howls echoed throughout the chamber, taunting Embekah as though there was a snicker hidden amidst the turbulence. A maggot scaled the bridge of her nose. Only when she lay perfectly still did the breeze finally die away.

Embekah closed her eyes. Where had that gust come from, and how was it able to strike so easily? As she dusted herself off, a grim thought wormed its way through her psyche.

Her unknown assailant had not seemed intent on mere physical harm. Whoever he or she was, this brute had struck where it really counted: her woodened haven.

#####

(Day 40, Year of the Toad)

Butter spread across two biscuit halves didn't fill Embekah's palate. Her focus still on the airy assault in the grove, she baked another round of biscuits, this time slathering each slice with a slab of honey. Better, but it still didn't sate the rumblings in her belly.

"Embekah?" Patrew said from the hall entrance.

"Yes?" Embekah sat at the table, eying the honey-soaked offerings nestled in the basket before her.

"I was just checking up on you. I didn't want to disturb whatever business you had going on this morning."

How thoughtful of him. "Thank you for that."

"You're welcome," he replied, taking a step toward her, his hands behind his back.

Embekah sank her teeth into the last of her current biscuit. Somehow its taste had faltered, even with the honey. "What are you hiding behind your back?"

"Well, I was going through the clothes you showed me last night, and I came across something. I'm not sure what to make of it, but..."

He shrank the distance between them by another couple of feet, holding out his arms as he crossed the room, revealing the item in his possession. Embekah at once recognized the bassinet she'd thought long lost.

"Give me that!" Embekah filched the basket out of Patrew's grip before he could even blink. "Is nothing of mine sacred to you?"

"I didn't mean to find it," Patrew argued, "but then again, the way you leave your whole estate all cluttered, it's a wonder nothing else has hit me in the head from up above."

Two impulses dueled on the battlefield of Embekah's brain, one to lash out at him, and one to offer a sincere apology. For now, a wary manner seemed best.

"How did you come by it?" she demanded, fury rising in tandem with the force of her pitch.

"I found a few more chests filled with clothing down there. You obviously missed them, which isn't surprising considering the pitiful lighting down there."

Would he ever shut up about how unkempt her home was? "But I didn't put this in a chest," Embekah pointed out.

"No, this was on a shelf high above the chests I explored. I didn't realize you were a mother."

"Not really," Embekah said, her cheeks searing. "I never had much chance to see my offspring. The child was plucked from my life before I even met him, or her."

Patrew arched a brow. "You don't even know the gender of your kin?"

"I don't see how this is any business of yours," Embekah said, crinkling her nose in disgust.

Patrew shrugged, helping himself to more hazelnuts from the cupboard. "It must've hit you hard never getting to hold your child."

"I don't think I've missed much," Embekah said through clenched teeth.

Frowning, Patrew said, "Somehow, I doubt that."

"Whatever."

"Oh please, Embekah," he laughed, "don't you think I know when you're lying?"

Embekah scrutinized him, choosing her words with the utmost care. One wrong word and he'd have gotten the best of her yet again. The sad truth of the matter remained that they'd lived under the same roof for six weeks now. Try as she did, it became quite a labor for her to conceal everything from the man.

"Truth is subjective, Sir Patrew," she tarnished his title with a sardonic tone, "as I'm certain you're well aware of."

Patrew contorted his face. "You protested rather loudly when I accused you of still being in contact with past associations, like your so-called Raven Rousers."

"And?"

Cramming another hazelnut into his mouth, Patrew then clamped down on it with his teeth, swallowing. "I find it likely you've learned a lot from them while in their ranks."

"What person doesn't pick up on things from those around her?" Embekah sensed a sudden need for an enchantment capable of erecting a protective barrier around her mind.

Patrew snickered. "Philosophy isn't going to help you outfox me. I'm onto your effort at deceit here, Em."

The sorceress threw her arms up. "For the last time, I'm not trying to deceive you."

"Not really thirsty for deception right now, are you?"

His question seemed to come from out of nowhere, yet the implication carried a hint of familiarity with it. But with her emotional balance off kilter from Patrew annoying her so, Embekah couldn't fit the pieces together fast enough.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Oh, nothing. It's just I know that you chatted with Tarbra Relsh the day I had visited the Z'lymor Inn."

"What makes you say that, Patrew?" Embekah fought hard to play dumb.

The knight said nothing. He slid into a chair and entwined his fingers together, choosing only to wait until she broke down and confessed her crimes to him.

The conceit teasing Patrew's lips drew the foreside of Embekah's hand, cracking the silence in the air. She went back in for a second strike at him, but this time Patrew seized her arm. Caught, the option to spit in his eye tempted Embekah, but she refused to give him the satisfaction.

"Doesn't it just drive you loopy that I would know more about you than you know of yourself, Embekah?"

"You're a cad," Embekah barked.

Patrew flashed another smile. How this uncouth cretin could charm the trousers off of the kingdom's people escaped Embekah.

"You assume that what you say bothers me in the least." His smirk widened even further. "It doesn't."

"Look, I'm done dealing with you. I'd be most content if we never actually spoke to one another again."

"Another lie. Don't you ever tire of lying?"

"I've tired of you. That count for anything?"

Patrew chuckled, released Embekah's hand. "Your wit has apparently run dry, dear Embekah."

"It's not my wit that has dried up, but rather my patience with you, Patrew," Embekah said, scraping her top row of teeth against the bottom row.

Patrew's gaze drifted toward the direction of the cellar. "So, you've held onto that bassinet all this time? Never thought of giving it away to a needier family?"

Embekah drew another breath. Patrew certainly was pushing his luck sticking his nose where it didn't belong, wasn't he? In a way, however, he filled a role long neglected: someone to confide in. Was that why he kept pressing the matter? To get her to open up to him?

"I don't know," she replied, giving him the honesty he desired. "I suppose I kept it as a tribute to the little one who slipped away from me."

With about the same effect a punch to his gut would've delivered, Embekah's speculation forced a humbler demeanor upon the knight.

"I'm sorry, Embekah," he said, reaching out to her again, this time just to squeeze her shoulder.

"I'm surprised you didn't know that." Embekah moaned. "You pretty much know everything else."

Patrew carried his empty hazelnut bowl over to the water basin and held it under the spigot, twisting the valve to clean out the container. "You know, I think I might've been a little wrong here."

Embekah found this impossible to believe. He'd had such success indicating her many flaws, yet now he was singing a new song. Just what kind of game was this jerk playing at?

"About what?" she asked, waiting for the bait.

"I let my duty get in the way of remembering that even the accused are still at their core people. I can get a little caught up in my responsibilities sometimes."

Embekah grumbled but let him continue anyhow.

"I am still resolved to take you in if we ever get free from our purgatory," he added as if to not let there be any further misunderstandings between them.

"I get to gain my freedom back just to lose it all over again?"

To his credit Patrew made no snide remark in response to this. Perhaps he was really putting in a better effort at treating her as more than just an outlaw.

"I'd really love it if I could just let you go."

"Then why don't you?"

Patrew's face lost some of its hue. Had such a thought never even entered his head? Him and his blasted nobility. At least Embekah wouldn't stoop to his level if their situations were reversed. Of course, it was easy for her to think such things, seeing as how she had never been exposed to stature.

"Why don't I what?"

"Don't be dense." Given his earlier jabs at her, Embekah truly doubted either his concern or naiveté were anything beyond mere show. "You've been gone from your castle for quite a while now. If you go back there after we're freed, you could say your search turned up nothing."

"Admit my failure to the king?" Patrew gasped, clasping his chest. "I'd rather die!"

She could see his reasoning. If she were the grandest Travan warrior, she wouldn't want anyone in the royal family knowing her great gaffes, either.

"Well, odds are that we'll perish long before the barrier breaks down, so you needn't worry about anyone finding out about your failure."

Patrew smiled at her. "Love your optimism."

"Really?"

"Yes."

Beaming her thanks toward him, Embekah went to make the both of them a feast. She found her dislike of him lessening, though by no means was she thrilled at the prospect of never setting foot outside of the house.

As she pulled out pots for cooking, her memory flickered back to the moment when a storm blew through her indoor forest. The air immediately around her skin lost its warmth. Every sight blurred, every sound muffled, as the world plunged into darkness a second time. Something lurking amongst the shadows gripped her. Only when the heat from Patrew's fingers reached the flesh of her arms did her senses return. For a while she lingered, uncertain of anything. When Patrew spoke her name, she gasped and dropped a pot on top of her toe.

"What is it?" he asked, tipping her chin up so their gazes would lock.

"I don't know, Patrew. I just had this sense that...no, forget it. I think the pressure of being trapped in here has just gotten to me. I think I'll go lie down a while."

She rushed off before Patrew could object.

CHAPTER 9

LETTER FROM TARBRA

(Day 54, Year of the Toad)

For the next two weeks, Embekah did not visit the forest chamber whatsoever. It wasn't as though she had run out of places to hide from Patrew if she so saw fit, though truth be told at the moment she found his presence comforting. Strange, she thought, that she might feel something for a man whose duty bound him to capture her.

If Patrew had noticed her infrequent ventures into seclusion, he didn't mention it. Maybe now he didn't need to say anything. The man remained as ever an enigma.

As time wore on, Embekah kept watch of Patrew as he worked on making the manor a more comfortable place for the both of them to live. She strode into the kitchen one day to find him kneeled down on the ground, his backside to her, his torso gliding in rhythm with the way he scrubbed the room's stone tile. Was it her, or had the air in the room climbed a few degrees? In such a position she could easily make him her prisoner...

As she approached him, he stood up, dusted himself off, and proceeded to the water basin to rinse off his hands. His beard had grown more in the last fortnight, a near unmanageable tapestry of unkempt hair. The scruffiness snapped Embekah straight out of the trance she had fallen under every time she gawked at him. Oh, how she would love to run her fingers against the smooth line of his jaw, if only she could find it underneath all that entanglement.

The beard did more than just diffuse Embekah's attraction toward the man. It served as a reminder that they could never be. Throughout life she'd kept to herself, while in all likelihood Patrew chased after anything that might stroke his ego. His body probably even enjoyed a little arousal from the thought of dragging her off to the dungeon.

Where was Halscrad when she needed him? She hadn't seen him in the longest time, leading her to suspect that her precious toad may have suffered an untimely end. Perhaps Patrew had done away with Halscrad when Embekah wasn't looking.

"Is anything wrong?" Patrew asked her, catching her staring off in the distance. He followed her gaze to the window next to the basin where he stood, scratching the forest on his chin.

"Nothing," she said, crossing her arms upon the surface of her countertop, eyeing him with feigned interest.

Patrew dried off his palms with a cloth before approaching her, meeting her from across the counter's other side. "Tell me what's going on."

Embekah moaned, torn between whether or not she should breathe a word about her troubles. "You haven't seen Halscrad, have you?"

"Not recently." Taking a moistened cloth with him, Patrew knelt back down onto his knees, surveying the immediate floor around him with suspicious intent, as though he sought something in particular. "Why?"

She reeled away from him. If he had in fact harmed Halscrad, she could just yell at him and be done with it. But the sincerity in his voice and the glimmer of worry in his eyes proved he likely had nothing to do with Halscrad's absence. She might as well open up to him. His growing compassion had earned him that, though the prospect of being indebted to him provided her tongue with a vile tang.

"I last saw Halscrad in the indoor forest." She locked gazes with Patrew again, firming her lip. "Something spooked him in there. I never figured out what it was."

"Toads are a baffling sort."

Embekah grunted. "At first I surmised that he might have encountered a snake in there, but I found no trace of serpent life whatsoever."

Patrew stood upright again, throwing another glance to the window, propping it open to invite in a warm late spring breeze. As he began to pull away he froze in mid-step.

"Well, I'll be cursed...," he said, his voice drifting away halfway through his thought.

"Technically, Patrew, you are." For once, Embekah took no pleasure in reminding him of this.

Patrew directed Embekah's attention toward the landscape outside. She followed the direction indicated, soon seeing what he saw. Perched upon a large rock underneath the lone oak tree found anywhere within miles of her home, Halscrad had a scroll tied with a ribbon to his form.

"How did he ever get out of the house?" Embekah's lips peeled away from one another gradually. She'd thought about sending Halscrad through the window, yes, but the opportunity hadn't presented itself yet. Perhaps the barrier which had imprisoned them had finally cracked. If so, she needed to be ready with every hex at her disposal.

"I'm not sure," Patrew remarked, darting out of the kitchen.

For a second, Embekah wasn't sure why he'd done this. It didn't take her long to realize what he was up to. "Oh!"

The knight waited another moment until Embekah reached the door. Then, gesturing toward the handle, he signaled that they should both open it at the same time. Embekah nodded, slipping her hand on top of his. Together they tugged on the knob.

Unfortunately, with their combined might being excessive, they both lost their grip. Flying backwards, Embekah piled atop Patrew, in the process crushing a chair whose rickety structure just couldn't support both of their bodies. Foul words erupted from the pair amidst the clatter of splintering wood.

Apparently refusing to let this setback dampen his resolve, Patrew charged at the door with his chest puffed out, his scowl shredding a path of lips right through his beard. He threw open the flap, and then started forth outside. A shield of crackling magic halted his advance with a bolt to his chest.

"It appears our barrier is still intact," he grumbled, rolling up his tunic to better inspect where the magic had zapped him. A little further to his left and the energy might have sufficiently stopped his heart.

"So how did Halscrad escape from the hovel?" Embekah demanded to know. If there was any chance at all that she might flee captivity, she had to take it.

Before either one of them could answer that question, Halscrad bounded through the open window, landing without injury. The toad hopped toward Embekah, every movement shaking the scroll just a little until it came undone from its ribbon and rolled across the floor.

Staring at Patrew, Embekah's jaw dropped. The knight suddenly tore through the air toward the window, making as Halscrad had done an instant ago, but in the opposite direction. Just before he could fit through the open space, Patrew's shoulder collided with the shield still denying the non-toads their freedom. He roared with a ferocity that sent Halscrad hopping under a table for safety.

After wasting seconds gawking at Halscrad, Embekah pulled Patrew off the floor by the hand, taking care not to further exacerbate his new injury.

"This doesn't make any sense," Patrew groaned, rubbing his shoulder.

"I know." Her glance fell back toward Halscrad's direction. "Unless..."

"Unless what?"

Embekah paused, a theory springing to mind. Yet without further investigation, she'd never confirm it. She walked over to the window. Then, pressing her palm against the force field, she discovered the barrier's resistance ever present.

"Halscrad, be a dear and come leap through the window for me," she implored with a sweetness too thick for Patrew's sword to slice through.

Halscrad, yawning as if unconcerned with his master's welfare, at once fell asleep.

Embekah moaned. "Bothersome toad! Can't you listen to a word I say?"

"Allow me," Patrew said, brushing past her. "Hello, Halscrad."

At the knight's pronouncement of his name, Halscrad awoke with a croak, like all of his energy had rebounded from just a few seconds of shut-eye.

"I don't even know why I bother with that toad anymore," grunted Embekah.

Patrew frowned, but maintained Halscrad's interest through flattery and a gentle tone. "Halscrad, my good frog, I need you to do me a favor. Do you think you can do it?"

"He's a toad, but whatever..." Embekah muttered.

Disregarding Embekah's distaste of the situation, Halscrad croaked once. How Patrew could get anything from the toad when she had put in the same effort was beyond her, at least at first. She then recalled what had happened in the indoor woods. Maybe her very presence reminded Halscrad of the sinister force that had come after them both in there.

"Okay, then, Halscrad." Patrew gestured toward the window. "Jump through again!"

Halscrad nodded a second time. Embekah looked on with restrained curiosity while the toad pulled back, sprang forth across the window sill, and hit the ground safely outside.

"The barrier didn't block him in," Patrew spoke, holding his breath.

"Which means," Embekah turned toward the knight, "that the spell only restricts people."

Patrew seemed unshaken by her discouraged tone. "At least this means we can send messages out into the world."

"That reminds me." Embekah strode over to the scroll that Halscrad had brought along with him into the hovel. "What was he doing with this?" She knew precisely why Halscrad had it, but didn't want to implicate Tarbra in the event that Patrew somehow broke free from this manor and went after the innkeeper.

She lifted the parchment to her side, keeping it just out of Patrew's reach. The closest, unbroken chair served as a resting point for Embekah to silently inspect the scroll's contents.

Dearest Embekah,

I'm not certain why I would bother writing this letter to you. In all likelihood you are probably dead, slain at the hands of the Travan warrior who disappeared around the same time as you. For all I know, the frog I've found outside my inn may turn out to be just an ordinary toad, and not your precious Halscrad. The list of ingredients written on the parchment could very well be the Royal Army's last effort at forcing the admission of my involvement in the Raven Rousers, and not from you.

If by some stroke of fate you are still alive, you should know that the Royal Army has called off any search for you or their fallen comrade. Although they believe you wholly responsible for Patrew's murder, the lack of any evidence leaves them no choice but to cease the investigation.

I, however, maintain a far more optimistic view. Whatever your reasons for your absence, I am certain you still live on. A disturbance in the mystical realms would have surely provided an indication otherwise. In the event that I might see you again, I invite you to come back to the Z'lymor at a time of your convenience and choosing.

I close now by saying yours is a strength I have always admired, Embekah. Despite your flight from the law, I believe you are driven not by cowardice, but by a natural instinct to survive. Your receipt of this message is proof of how strong and resourceful you truly are.

–Tarbra

"Well?" Patrew asked after Embekah finished.

Embekah kept him hanging on for a response. Would she do more harm than good by sharing the scroll's contents with Patrew? She ran the risk of another lecture from him if he realized she was lying.

Her focus drifted back to the knight. The downward slope of his brows and the pursing of his lips suggested that his patience wasn't without its limits.

"It's from a dear friend of mine in Trava Town," Embekah announced, passing the letter to Patrew for confirmation. "Hopefully, if we were to ever leave these fine accommodations, you would choose not to persecute her like you have me."

"You speak as though you expect the barrier protecting us to one day crumble into nothingness." Patrew scanned the words on the page. Once done, he let the parchment drop to his side, but didn't let go of it altogether. "I trust the innkeeper Tarbra isn't linked to your Raven Rousers."

The way he had phrased this last part made it impossible for Embekah to figure out whether the knight was actually searching for an answer.

"There you go again, spewing off nonsense about my past loyalties. You may not want to believe this, Patrew," Embekah glowered at him, "but not all of my friends are shady."

Patrew mumbled. "I suppose you're right. It's not as though you have many friends, anyhow. And those ones you do have most likely distanced themselves from associating with known criminals."

"Again with my past alliances! Can't you just drop it? What matters is that I've now had my first contact with the outside world since you came along."

"What do you propose to do with it?" he asked, holding up the scroll once more. "Write back?"

Embekah hadn't yet pondered doing such. "And let one of your fellow knights intercept it? I think not."

"Then if you won't respond to it, I will." Patrew tightened his grip again, crinkling the paper.

"What good would that accomplish?" Embekah slammed the window flaps shut now that Halscrad was inside.

Patrew snorted. "You're jesting, right?"

"I don't make jokes, Patrew, at least not in front of someone who wears his long underwear too far up his bum."

"The point of responding to this person, this Tarbra, is so that she might let the other knights know I'm still alive."

"But you read the letter, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"Then you know the army gave up the search for you."

These last words appeared to plow right through Patrew's ego. The light in his eyes faded, indicating that the contents of the letter, along with Embekah's spiteful remark, dealt him a harsh blow.

Startled that she may have gone too far to upset Patrew, she exhaled lightly while taking a step closer. "I'm sorry. I get how painful it is to know that you may never see your loved ones ever again."

"They've presumed I'm dead," he said, choking back a spasm in his throat.

Embekah took his fingers in hers and squeezed. The thought to say something about her long-lost child stirred in her mind, but she opted not to bring it up. Both of them had their individual pain. Perhaps if she showed a little consideration towards the knight's agony, he wouldn't be quick to throw things in her face so often.

"I'm supposed to be Trava's greatest champion. Now that title will undoubted go to someone else, someone who might not have hold themselves to the same high standards that I do."

"So you lose your rank and title," Embekah said, applying more force to his fingers without hurting him. "Is it really that big of a deal?"

"I suppose there are worse travesties in life," he acknowledged, his eyes glazed over with remorse. "But that doesn't mean I have to like it, now or ever."

Embekah smiled. "By all means, feel free to sulk a little while. It's not as though you have anywhere else to go at the moment."

This drew a slight grin from Patrew. "Thank you. You can be so kind sometimes."

"Well at least someone knows how to appreciate the things I do around here," Embekah remarked, glaring at Halscrad. "Maybe I should send a reply to Tarbra. If Halscrad has free reign in and out of here, maybe we can have him bring us the supplies we need to survive."

"And should another one of my fellows intercept him?"

Embekah shrugged. "I admit that the idea of a messenger frog would arouse suspicions. But we'll have to chance it. There's no way we can live on what few supplies we have left. The indoor forest has somewhat slowed our progress into absolute paucity. Nevertheless, we need to stay vigilant on this."

"You speak the truth."

Embekah laughed. "About time you realized that."

#####

(Day 67, Year of the Toad)

Taking stock of what inventory they still had went quicker with Patrew's assist. Every few days, they'd send Halscrad out to bring back items they sorely lacked. Patrew had had enough gold coins on his personage the day of the barrier's birth that they were able to purchase goods without resorting to thievery. Each time, Embekah and Patrew together listed what they required on a sheet of parchment. Then Embekah secured the scroll to Halscrad so that the toad could give it to the local shopkeepers in Trava Town.

During their third run, Patrew helped bind the note to Halscrad. While the knight was preoccupied with the toad, Embekah took it upon herself to draft a response to Tarbra. But what would she say to her friend? Sorry for not coming to see you? My magic went awry again, making me a prisoner alongside a Travan knight?

She scribbled a word here, a sentence there. However, everything she longed to mention conflicted with the possibility that the Travan king, in a show of vengeance, would send his legions to storm her manor. The notion of her execution skittered about in her mind, leading her to almost scrap the plan entirely.

"Dear Tarbra," Embekah began, sketching her words on an unmarked roll. Speaking out what she wanted to say usually assisted her in writing letters. Of the utmost importance was that she needed to convey the right thing without revealing too much. Even just letting Tarbra know that she and Patrew were still alive carried certain risk.

Only after the sun had streaked across the sky from dawn to dusk had Embekah finally forged her best message:

Dear Tarbra,

I miss our little impromptu get-togethers at your inn. Unfortunately, I have taken rather ill and do not anticipate any further excursions to your inn. A rather shame, I know. Please know the extent of my regret in not reconnecting with you as I'd hoped.

May your life be rich with the success you deserve, and may your heart mend quickly with my departure from your life.

Embekah read the parchment one more time for good measure. She then rolled it up, tied a ribbon to the middle of the note, and sought out Halscrad.

CHAPTER 10

PAGE TORN

(Day 115, Year of the Toad)

With Halscrad capable of going out the window unhindered, Embekah and Patrew continued giving him tasks. Halscrad usually brought back small pouches wrapped around his neck, sacks filled with ingredients he'd procured from either the marketplace or from lashing his tongue at unsuspecting bugs. Flies, gnats, and berries usually served as the stuff Halscrad brought back with him whenever he didn't set out for the day to the marketplace.

Around mid-morning one day, Embekah sent Halscrad off on another mission, his sixteenth if she had counted correctly, attired in the normal pouch and parchment accompaniments. She watched him leap through the open window, landing safely on the other side. Once he was gone, Embekah caught sight of the leaves on the trees, the hues of which sifting gradually to red, gold, or brown. Although she hadn't seen a traveler meandering along the path off in the distance in some time, she closed the shutters so that no outsider would catch sight of her.

Strange how air, bugs, and animals were able to penetrate the magical obstacle, but not people. And how was it that the spell had not dissipated over the course of time? Surely a spell built on a clumsy moment couldn't hold up that much longer against smaller, more precise incantations?

And that thing chasing her out of her sanctuary of the indoor woods; what had that been about? Somehow the two incidents didn't seem like mere coincidence, as though whatever had erected the field around her house now saw fit to threaten her anywhere at any time.

For now, however, house inventory occupied her mind. She stood watch, ensuring that the levels at present didn't diminish further. Patrew had left notes in the cellar indicating everything he removed from storage, providing full disclosure of what they had on hand, and offering Embekah no reason not to trust him. When it came to things like food, the sorceress found her faith in him growing.

She made several trips down into the cellar, finding new things to add to the list for Halscrad's next journey. With the winter months not far off now, Embekah pulled out the parchment to Tarbra she had meant to send before but hadn't gotten the chance. Now she considered running it by Patrew first. After all, he hadn't accused her of high treason in some while.

Still, a nagging feeling deep down warned her not to fully believe him. She waited until he overindulged in cicada stew and passed out before making her move. The moment the first snore gutted the air, she went for it.

With much haste she found the parchment she'd neglected for several weeks, laying atop a shelf in her slumbering chamber. She snatched it up and went for Halscrad.

"Here you go, Halscrad," she said, the note securely strung around him. "Make sure you get this to Tarbra. She has to know what's going on with us, understand? She might be the last person left who can help lift this unforgiving curse."

Halscrad gave a laid-back croak before hopping out the same window he went out many times before. After his departure, it occurred to Embekah that maybe she ought to change up windows in case spies were anywhere in the area.

With Halscrad off on another adventure, Embekah found herself with some time to think. Considering how helpful Patrew had been since the barrier had gone up, she entertained the notion that perhaps he might become more of an equal partner in some of the household decisions. Every step he took suggested that he was on board with her interests. Yet she still resisted the option. For all she knew, everything he did was merely for show. What truly kept her safe from Patrew's retribution, strangely enough, was the barrier itself.

But once that obstruction came down? How long would it take kind Patrew to revert back to his old charmless self and apprehend her for past crimes?

Then again, maybe Patrew would stay loyal. It wasn't as though they'd ever find the means to break the spell. Even if they did, Patrew wouldn't necessarily take her into custody, not after the kingdom assumed he had died. Superstition often played firmly into the beliefs of the Travan people so much that even Patrew's closest allies might perceive his "rise from the dead" as blasphemy.

Conversely, for all she knew Patrew might've been playing on her greatest weakness, the proximity they shared in this cramped space. No matter how many spells she'd cast, no matter where she went, Embekah couldn't evade the man.

There had to be some sort of diplomatic solution to their living arrangement. If it involved rewarding him with a title of sorts, then so be it.

The next day, while her mind tussled with these leftover thoughts from the night before, Embekah tackled the kitchen, wiping down counters, scrubbing the floors, making the windows shine to where she just about blinded herself with the streak refracting off the glass. Then she flung her most recently used parchments onto the countertop. She studied her work with such intensity that all the words just meshed together. Her forehead hit the counter with a thud.

What she wouldn't give just to get away for a while! But where else could she go to escape aside from the indoor forest?

Patrew kept himself busy elsewhere in the house through most of the day, making few appearances several hours apart. The last few times she discovered him holding a tool. Once a hammer, twice a shovel, and in his most recent appearance he had shears for some of the vegetation growing out of control in her forest.

That he would even dare to venture into the one chamber he swore never to reenter shocked Embekah. Of course, he could have lied about that, too.

Embekah made another trip down the stairs just before supper. Holding tightly onto a lantern, she navigated through the shadows, stopping to glance over her shoulder every few seconds. Dryness struck her throat, the smoke from her lamp choking her nostrils. Convinced that Patrew was still hard at work in the indoor woods, pruning the forestry for whatever reasons all his own, Embekah pressed on.

She entered the cellar and set the lantern down on a box in the corner. So much work to do. It never seemed to stop coming. If she wasn't cataloguing every last item they had at their disposal, then she was busy conjuring up a counter-spell to rid themselves of the containment field.

Fatigued from working hard all day long, against the cold of night seeping into her basement, Embekah gathered the barrels she'd already put things in and stacked them on top of one another. How she had amassed such a supply of scrolls, she had no idea.

Might her parchment purchases have been how Patrew had tracked her? She had to give him kudos on his resourcefulness. Other men, lesser men, would sooner seek wine and bed over an outcast who hadn't been part of the Raven Rousers in years. In an odd way, Patrew's resilience almost spoke praise of her.

The last task Embekah decided to do that night before heading off to bed was to organize a series of books that had been left scattered across the cellar floor.

Noticing a pile of four books, Embekah moved towards it, throwing her arms around the heap. With a great strain she hefted the volumes off the table, twisting her legs toward a shelf in the corner. What she hadn't anticipated, however, was the difference in size between the tomes.

As she went in her chosen direction, the center book fell out, landing underneath her foot. She slipped on it, losing what little balance she had thanks to her load. While crashing down with everything she held onto, Embekah's back slammed against her cobbled floor. Hot agony flashed throughout her spine. Had she broken something?

She rolled over on her side, catching sight of the soot now on her digits and cloak. At least she wasn't pinned to the floor, prisoner to a fate far worse than an energy block fit snugly around the perimeter of her house.

"Bah!" She cried out, nearly ready to just admit defeat in the face of everything going wrong in her life.

She spun over onto her gut, refusing to let circumstances get the best of her. She propped herself up with her hands against the basement floor. On her knees she glimpsed downward at the book that she had stepped on, the reason for her fall. Drawn inexplicably to it, she reached over and grazed the cover with her soot-ridden fingers.

At once, she recognized the treasure chest of memories she had meant to set aside for her infant. How could she have forgotten this of all things? She flipped it open. At once her heart froze with fright not unlike what she'd gone through weeks ago in the indoor woods.

A page had gone missing. From the binding's edge Embekah caught a trace of paper fiber, just enough to suggest the precision of purposeful tampering. Where was the sheet? She put the book down on the table on the side of the room, a foot or two away from the lantern, keeping it out where she would find it again. Next she scanned the room for any hint of the missing page, just in case it had fallen freely from the spine. Considering the clutter she'd already organized, and what she still needed to sift through, finding a single page wouldn't be easy. She opened back up some of the crates to see whether or not any of the pages she had put away might have been her baby book page.

She found nothing.

Several different possibilities soon came to Embekah, the majority of which she dismissed without pause. The most probable causes of the page's disappearance all involved Patrew. Could he have still been investigating her, despite being unable to cart her off to prison?

Maybe it had been a fluke. Maybe Patrew had trespassed upon her privacy at the start of this messy affair. If the book had crossed his path in the first few weeks of his stay, she could forgive his transgression. He hadn't known better back then.

Yet all this time doubt had never abandoned the recesses of her mind. Regardless of how helpful he'd proven himself to be during their entrapment, he'd also thrown Embekah's sorcery back in her face. She wanted to trust him, but in no way had she done so. If he'd filched the page so he could get at her heart, his claims of valor and honor meant nothing.

With paranoia poisoning her heart, mind, and soul against her fellow housemate, Embekah mumbled. How could she have opened up to him like that? Simple, she thought. He actually spoke back to her, provided her with conversation, rather than with a croak.

An even darker possibility occurred to her as she stood there in the cellar. Was Patrew the evil she'd sensed when Halscrad had fled from her in the indoor forest? Such malice had never plagued her wooded haven before Patrew entered her life.

Embekah didn't like this at all. Her searching for the lost sheet coming up empty, she stormed toward the staircase, stopping only to scoop up the book and the lamp still perched upon the table. She stomped up the stairs, the stairs moaning their opposition to the force she applied.

Patrew wouldn't get away with this.

But the instant she reached the top step, she froze. All the light around her vanished, including the light dancing behind the glass of her lantern. Coldness penetrated her skin, the air suffocating her. She cried out for Patrew and Halscrad, getting a response from neither. Vertigo caught her and spun her around several times, nausea crashing against her stomach with a tempest's might.

She attempted a scream, but her throat felt like her windpipe had swollen shut. Gulping for breaths refused to her, Embekah reached out blindly in the hope of catching herself from a perilous fall. Her fingers gripped nothing but open space.

"Embekah?"

She could still hear her name, but in the clutches of empty despair, Embekah couldn't answer.

"Embekah!" Patrew's voice carried as though he was speaking under water.

Any desire she may have had to yell at him died out as she sought rescue. She needed to grab him, to feel his touch, to have him reel her away from the chaos she had become trapped in. Her mind produced the words, but her mouth failed to pass them on. Why couldn't she talk to him? What madness was this?

A flash of pain belting her, she dropped her lamp onto the floor. Her fingers that had gripped the candle an instant ago now smarted with fresh blisters. Embekah peered upward, the oven door open in her pantry. Under the archway leading into the hall, Patrew stood with his sword at the ready.

"Call off your attack now, Embekah!" Patrew barked at her, angry terror shimmering in his eyes.

The instant their gazes met, tears threatened to overwhelm Embekah, her body pulsing with sorrow, the shadows appearing murkier than ever. Patrew must have picked up on how distraught she was, for he dropped his weapon and rushed to her side.

Panic choking her heart and confusion blanketing her mind, Embekah collapsed. Patrew caught her just before her hair touched the flame spreading across the floor, setting her against a wall several feet out of harm's way. He then reached for the nearest pot to fill with water and douse the spark before the pantry became wholly engulfed in flames.

Once the blaze was out, and all that remained of the fire were charcoaled markings on Embekah's kitchen floor, Patrew went back over to the sorceress, bending down onto his knees as he checked on her.

"Stay with me," she whispered, embracing him with a tight squeeze.

CHAPTER 11

CHILLS AND FEVERS

(Day 116, Year of the Toad)

Embekah made it through the night with dreamless slumber. She awoke in her longue, still shaken from her experience the evening before. A musty blanket Patrew had probably retrieved from the basement kept her warm, at least for now.

For a second it seemed odd that Patrew hadn't simply moved her into her bedroom. Then again, maybe he wanted to respect her personal chamber, or that he'd found it less effort to get her to the chair, rather than to bed.

She attempted to stand, but only got so far as half an inch away from the seat before slinking back in. So much sleep, yet so little energy to show for it. What had happened to her?

The chair proved more comfortable than she cared to admit. But staying out in the hall would serve her no good if she suffered another fainting spell. Here, she remained out in the open, primed for another attack from the force disrupting life in her manor. What she needed was most was to isolate herself where she could see the danger coming, and therefore be best prepared for it. The longue in the hall didn't provide her with any such safety.

Currently, though, the blood pumping through her veins made her gave her an edge she might need to keep from fainting. She cast a rasp in the desert of her throat, a demand for liquid of any sort. From the direction of the pantry, a clink of what sounded like her finest porcelain caught her ear. What was Patrew up to now?

Soothing fragrances, almost honeydew in nature, filled the air. A second later, Embekah looked up to find Patrew emerging into the hallway, holding a cup with a saucer underneath. The sunlight pouring in through the eastern window reflected in his eyes, though his lips appeared rigid as ever.

"I thought I heard you stir," he said, advancing toward her without hesitation.

"How long was I out?"

"I'll answer that," he held out the brew for her to take, "only after you've sipped from this."

Embekah wrapped a finger around the handle, placing her other palm underneath the saucer's bottom. She drew both pieces toward her, enjoying a quick a whiff of the substance she accidentally let slosh over the container's sides. Patrew offered her a doily to wipe the mess up with.

"I thought you might need that too, just in case."

Embekah wiped her finger clean, checking around to see where else drops may have splattered. With her next breath she uttered, "How considerate of you."

He broke out in a weak smile. "I try."

Embekah regarded his hesitation warily. Was he afraid she might lash out at him again, or otherwise crack under pressure of being trapped under the barrier for nearly a third of a year? While she considered his acts, before and after her collapse, she sipped on the steamy brew, her muscles surrendering to the harmony of honeydew bliss.

"You made this?" Embekah could barely pry her lips away from the rim.

"With a little help from one of your books and the ingredients we had readily available." He crinkled his nose as though this had been the hardest thing yet he'd had to do under Embekah's roof.

She smiled, but didn't comment on his generosity out of appreciation for what he'd done.

"Anyhow," Patrew coughed and went on, "I thought a drink first thing in the morning might suit you fine. Let me know what you think."

Embekah stole another sip from her mug. "I will."

Patrew started for the door, apparently uninterested in any further talk. Embekah gulped down the last of his refreshment with another swig.

"Care to bring me some more?" she asked quickly, intent on keeping him close by.

Patrew spun around. "Finished already?"

"Yes." She giggled. "Don't sound so shocked. It was a delicious brew. Honeydew has such a sweet tang to it, don't you think? You have such a gift for this sort of thing. I might be tempted to ask you to cook me a meal sometime soon."

The knight cringed at the thought. "I'm not that skilled."

"You're sure of that?" Embekah gave him the cup, refusing to let him refuse. "Unless...it wouldn't have anything to do with your proximity to my more unconventional ingredients and your aversion to magic, would it?"

"It's so unnatural," Patrew blurted out. "I'd rather not be caught up in such a craft."

"Sounds like someone's scared of what others might think of him," Embekah said wryly.

Patrew's face flushed scarlet. "It has nothing to do with what others think."

"Ah, but I think it does."

"Can you prove it?"

Embekah realized the time for teasing had passed. "I overheard you with the others when you were hunting me. Your ego back then would've popped the helmet off of your head, and I doubt even your armor would have kept you from floating off into the horizon."

"I just don't believe it's wise to fondle nature in such a disturbing manner," Patrew replied, his argument centered on the sorcery.

"Magic is hardly a sordid affair, Patrew." Embekah sighed, watching her tone with him. "It's about getting to know our world better, expanding our understanding in ways beyond base perception."

"And manipulating the laws of nature to get your way," Patrew retorted with a low huff.

"If I really had such godlike power, Patrew, do you honestly believe a lousy barrier could keep me under the same roof as you?"

Patrew took the cup from her at last. "I suppose not."

"You don't have to like everything about magic, Patrew." Embekah beamed at him. "For now, just know that you make a wicked brew. Such a concoction might even impress some of those more ignorant minds throughout the land."

Patrew winced just enough for Embekah to notice. "Did you really have to use the word 'concoction'?"

"I'm just saying."

Patrew retreated to the alcove as if offended by what she'd said. "I can't listen to this another minute."

At that moment, Embekah threw the blanket off so she could stand. "You're not likely to see your old chums anytime soon, if ever. Why don't you learn a little more about the craft? No one would ever have to know."

Patrew retreated out of the room without answering her. She considered giving him chase, but chose instead to return to her bedroom to rest further.

As she approached her door, Halscrad croaked at her from her right, causing her to peer downward at him. The toad had no note attached to him. The lack of a note accompanying his return it made Embekah wonder if he'd even made the trek to Trava Town.

"Hello, Halscrad," she greeted him, rubbing his head with her palm. "Did you run into trouble along the way?"

An explosion of crashes and clangs from the pantry made her forget all about Halscrad.

#####

They rushed to the kitchen just in time to see Patrew hurling the side of his fist at the shelved plates and goblets, knocking the dishes onto the cobble below, shattering most of them in a shower of porcelain and glass.

"Patrew! What's gotten into you now?" Embekah should've known better than to think the matter was dropped. But how was she supposed to know he would lash out like this?

He twisted toward her slowly, a rumble emerging from his windpipe. His eyes cast a ruby fire as though a demon had set up residence inside the knight's body. He flashed his teeth in a grin too grisly to be human, the contours on his face hinting at ill intent.

"Devil woman," he snapped at her. "With my blade I shall purge you of the dead wood weighing down your neck."

Embekah stood her ground, wriggling her fingers ready to unleash a spell, her brain still assessing the circumstances behind Patrew's madness. Something was horribly wrong here. Without knowing all the facts, observation remained her one option at present.

"You serve me a brew, and then seek out my decimation, Patrew?" Embekah hooked her brow. "What sort of game are you playing at?"

Just then, a second Patrew burst into the kitchen from the cellar, pausing at the uppermost step, his lips split apart as he took in what was going on.

"What is the meaning of this, Embekah?" the second Patrew demanded to know.

Embekah shook her head, clearing her mind of any confusion which might compromise her ability to defend herself. She didn't need answers right now. Only her survival mattered.

The Patrew with the glowing eyes unleashed a thunderous cackle, the sound an echo of a hellish realm, not Trava. He withdrew a dagger from a pocket hidden deep beneath his tunic, whirling it about in several circles, a sharp glint reflecting off the blade's tip. In one swift motion, he launched his weapon at the second Patrew, just missing the knight by a sliver of space.

Embekah fought back with several rounds of lightning, her body flowing with energy. Three strikes simultaneously met the target, thrusting him against the shelf where Embekah kept her best recipes. The fiend slunk to the floor for a moment, but then rolled to the right and stood up once more. Singe marks on the man's tunic provided the only evidence of damage from Embekah's attack.

The more benevolent Patrew tackled Sir Glowing Eyes, returning their enemy to the floor once more. Patrew launched his knuckles into his lookalike's jaw, cracking it, possibly fracturing bone. The fiend snatched up a large shard of porcelain from one of the dishes he had eradicated moments before, aiming it toward Patrew's chest. In a flash, Embekah flung another barrage of lightning at Patrew's doppelganger, pelting the splinter straight out of the evil Patrew's clutches.

"Well done, Embekah!" Patrew said, sending his fist on another rendezvous with his twin's chin. "Now do you mind telling me who our attacker is?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," Embekah said, holding a steady stance. "He mimics you fairly well, though."

The evil knight hissed at Embekah, capturing Patrew's fist during a fourth attempted punch. Demonstrating fierce drive, the fiend jerked Patrew past his shoulder, clearing a path to Embekah. He next went after her, insanity flickering in his face, dictating his every movement. Right as he came within reach of her, Embekah threw up a magnetic bubble to contain her enemy. Sir Glowing Eyes clawed at the field she had erected around him, but the durability of her spell proved effective against his spiky nails.

"Impressive," Patrew said, picking himself off the floor. After joining Embekah, he examined the thing that had made a mockery of his face. Gazing deeply into those ruby-red eyes, he shook his head. "This is why I don't approve of sorcery in the least."

"Because I used the field to slow this monster down?" asked Embekah.

Patrew pounded his fist into his palm out of protest. "For once, my problem with magic has nothing to do with you. I'm rather glad you stopped this thing that robbed my image of its valor.

"No, the trickery that we've been privy to here is that of a mage-morph. To even think that someone could have orchestrated this..."

Sensing what Patrew was hinting at, Embekah said, "I wouldn't resort to magic to mock you, Patrew. My choice in words is all the taunting power I need. And besides, the thing came after me, remember?"

Sir Glowing Eyes thrashed about wildly in the bubble, causing the magnetic spell to bend but not burst. His limbs and torso contorted in curves and twists that bodies supposedly weren't meant to explore, grinding noises signaling the shifting of bones in the being's form. An instant later, warts formed on the flesh of Embekah's captive, a vile green hue conquering the dark complexion. Embekah and Patrew gaped at their prisoner as Sir Glowing Eyes shrank down into the shape of a toad.

"Halscrad?" Embekah said, realizing she had lost track of her toad in the midst of all this bedlam.

"That's not your pet, Embekah!" Patrew warned. He gripped her by the arm and pointed to the tiny crawlspace between the counter and the wall, where Halscrad sat in fear of his life. "It's just another mage-morph deception."

Embekah nearly opened her mouth to protest. The way his brows scrunched closer toward his nose hinted that perhaps this went far beyond mere magical intolerances.

The Faux Halscrad stuck its tongue out at the wall of Embekah's magnetic cell. Like with the claws before, the muscle prodded at the shield as if in search of a weak spot. With each jab Embekah wound up spending more of her strength just to continue detaining their nemesis.

Then Faux Halscrad lashed his tongue around in a circular motion, at a speed nearing that of tempest winds. Dizziness started to overtake Embekah and she had to look away.

In that moment, the bubble burst. Faux Halscrad screeched more like a falcon than the toad he was mimicking. It again whipped its tongue, now dripping with a yellowish fluid that burned a hole in the floor beneath them. Patrew snatched Embekah by the arm and yanked her out of the way before the tongue struck where her head had been. A fair section of the wall dissolved into a fissure.

"What sort of creature is this?" Embekah clutched her chest, gawking at how the acid-like drool had devoured half of her wall. While Patrew battled Faux Halscrad with a rolling pin he swiped off of the counter, the sorceress thought back to the indoor woods. Had this been the thing she had sensed weeks ago?

Faux Halscrad ceased his tongued assault, reverting to regular size. Instead of taking on the guise of Sir Glowing Eyes again, the fiend changed shape to match someone else's in nearly every way that mattered.

"It's making itself out to look like you!" Patrew said.

Embekah waved her palm toward her double. "Almost true, Patrew, but have you seen her flesh?"

Threads of hair, or what could almost pass for hair, hung limply off to either side of the mage-morph's head. Scars gave the creature's face an uncanny resemblance to diced mutton. A cruel ruby glow returned to the empty pockets where eyes should have been. Crooked teeth formed a treacherous sneer, promising of nothing but a slow, tortured demise.

"You're right," said the knight. "I have never seen anyone with flesh as rotten as hers."

Fitting description for the person imitating me, thought Embekah. She attempted another magnetic offense, only to have Rotten Flesh dispel the enchantment with a hex made of pale energy. Embekah switched to a multiple energy shot dispersion, filling the air with an orange glow. Unfortunately, Rotten Flesh at the same time crafted an ebony shield to match Embekah's effort. All thirty to forty blasts missed their mark, bouncing harmlessly off Rotten Flesh's mystical layer.

"Her magic is stronger than yours!" said Patrew, the tremble in his voice indicative of how much magic truly frightened him.

Embekah kept her gaze aimed at Rotten Flesh. With Patrew being ill-equipped to handle a mage-morph of such mystical stamina, everything fell on her shoulders. Only this time she wasn't just fighting for her life. She had two other entities to take into consideration, one a pet, the other a possible friend.

She hesitated long enough for Rotten Flesh to body-slam her without warning. Embekah's back struck the center island of her kitchen and sent pain streaming through her body, causing her fingertips to let loose the energy sphere she'd just produced. She closed her eyes, listening more to her pain rather than the mystical orb's ricochet. No crackling made Embekah believe she hadn't broken any bones, but some of her dishes splintered as a direct result of being in the ball's trajectory.

"Embekah!" Patrew bellowed in rage before charging at the enemy.

Embekah rolled around onto her stomach, finding Rotten Flesh shredding into Patrew with lengthy talons. Without any armor to block against it, those claws would surely gut him. Even her most efficient spells might not save him in time.

She eyed his rolling pin again, and executed the only spell she could think of that might have any chance at keeping Patrew alive. The air lit up with an amber radiance. A second later, the rolling pin Patrew held transformed into his sword.

"What in blazes?" Patrew asked.

"Use it now!" Embekah commanded, crouching into a defensive stance in case Rotten Flesh flew at her again.

Patrew did as told, swinging his sword at Rotten Flesh, his blade clanging against Rotten Flesh's talons. Sparks of white light erupted from the site of impact between the sword and the fiend's protective, mystical layer. Twice more he swung, unable to do any damage. Finally, on the fourth effort, the edge of his weapon cracked the black energy shell that had kept Rotten Flesh safe from Embekah's power. Before their enemy could rebound from this, he drove the sword further in, striking the gut, opening a new wound.

Embekah used this moment to her advantage by nailing Rotten Flesh with a fireball, searing the fiend as its rags caught ablaze in a red and orange dance. The demon yowled with all the capacity its lungs could afford. Not long afterward, it fell limp, drawing its last breath.

"Is it over?" Patrew asked, confusion reflecting in his eyes. He prepared to retract his blade, but just before he did Rotten Flesh cackled.

"It's never over," said the mage-morph, "at least, not until I have the sorceress dead to rights."

Rotten Flesh disappeared in an explosion of dark gray, grainy material, leaving Embekah and Patrew to take in what had just happened.

"Embekah?" The way Patrew spoke her name sounded forced.

"Don't look to me for answers," she replied. "I don't even know how this fiend got inside my manor. No one has penetrated the barrier aside from Halscrad."

"That's just it. What if this thing, this mage-morph, has somehow done what we haven't? Should we not learn where it came from, and possibly find an escape from this spell?"

Embekah considered his suggestion carefully. For all the time they had spent sheltered away from the rest of the world, she couldn't ignore the fact that they still knew nothing of the force binding them to her manor. Perhaps the time to sort out every dirty detail had arrived.

Patrew must have seen a chink in her emotional armor, for he then followed up with another proposal. "Maybe I ought to serve you another brew while we discuss the matter further in length."

"Sure." She couldn't pass up another chance to enjoy Patrew's brew. Besides, comparing notes might be more productive than constantly holding things back amidst an air of mistrust.
CHAPTER 12

COLD SNAP

(Day 172, Year of the Toad)

Moonlight glistened off the autumn frost blanketing the grass stretching forth from Embekah's manor. Glancing out her parlor window, Embekah spotted the first hint of a twilight fog rising. It wouldn't be long now before the low clouds ascended and overwhelmed the sky, rendering any further assistance from the moon useless.

Embekah sank further into her chaise longue, sipping more of Patrew's brew from the goblet he had served her less than an hour ago. She could still hear him clinking pots and pans together in the kitchen. The ruckus he made proved tolerable for Embekah, for at least she had someone else in the house with her, not counting the toad. With Halscrad rapidly heading towards his hibernation months and a mage-morph capable of evading death by way of sword, solitude was the last thing she needed.

Before he went down for the count, Halscrad leaped into the parlor, a small bag wrapped around his frame. The insects that had stubbornly waited out the season's last days were now collected as part of Embekah's supplies. After setting down her drink on the end table next to her, she leaned forward to untie the sack from Halscrad.

"Impressive," she said, glancing downward into the maw of the pouch. "Considering I haven't even seen a cicada in weeks now, you have certainly done well to get me quite a few lady beetles. I wish you'd take to the indoor forest for the winter, rather than the cellar. Sometimes I forget you're here at all."

The toad chirped before heading out of the chamber for the night. Embekah glimpsed down one last time at the lady beetles, which appeared lifeless, just the way she needed them.

She resealed the bag and placed it on the far end of the table next to her, careful not to knock over her sweet brew. Thoughts of the honeydew beverage made her fingers clasp the base of the goblet. Afterwards, another swig of Patrew's delicious drink swam about in her mouth and then down her throat. Ah, such sweetness. Her tongue just couldn't get enough of this good stuff.

The clangs ceased in the kitchen. Embekah mused over what Patrew most likely was going to work on next. Right after he had brewed his potion for the sorceress, Patrew brought up wanting to increase the manor's defenses, citing the possibility of another assault on this side of the barrier. Embekah had given her blessing to take whatever steps he deemed necessary in keeping them safe so long as she and Patrew remained trapped.

The thought that he should share every detail of his plans with her had crossed her mind, but if Rotten Flesh caught wind of their intent, it might jeopardize their survival.

Out of respect and appreciation for his presence here, Embekah made certain not to create any charms that might undermine Patrew's course of action. Relying solely on magic might wind up becoming their downfall. In any event, she still had a number of spells on hand in case she needed to cast them quickly.

A thought came to her. It had been too long since she'd last heard a single murmur from Patrew about her reliance on sorcery, even in the matter of stopping Rotten Flesh. The way he hadn't gone off on his typical tirade about her craft seemed strange. Although he might have simply been too spooked out of his wit to make a snide comment, Embekah couldn't ignore that maybe there was something else to it.

Was it that he finally saw a practical use for Embekah's skills and talents?

Heading toward the winter solstice the days grew steadily shorter, a half year almost elapsed since the barrier went up and Patrew was forced to move in with her. Nippy air seeped through every crack in the house, tempting Embekah to squander her magic and supplies on fire incantations. Much to her stout objection, Patrew took some of the more sickly trees from the indoor woods, chopped them up with an ax he had found, lugged the resulting logs out of the chamber, and distributed them in the parlor where the hearth lay. With the assistance of a lit candle, he set fire to the logs in the hearth, and then sat back to chafe his hands and enjoy the fruits of his labor.

Despite herself, Embekah beamed at Patrew's success, wholly neglecting her resentment over the loss of some trees. When her gaze fell back toward the flames, terror clenched her heart. A few sparks seemed to take on the shape of Rotten Flesh, but Embekah blinked once and the fire lost whatever near coherent image she'd seen.

Outside of setting traps and chopping down trees from her personal grove, Embekah found Patrew drawn to cooking up more brews, too. At first he'd denied toiling toward perfecting his culinary skills, but by the fifth consecutive week of making a batch, she found the knight enjoying more time in the kitchen than anywhere else.

And he seemed to fancy being around her more. Every time she meandered into the kitchen, a playful grin stretched out his features, another indication that their squabbles had grown few and far between. Never in her wildest dreams would Embekah have imagined a magi-phobe like Patrew accept her ways, much less bat an eye at her with such kindness, maybe even affection.

And yet despite it all, regardless of the gentle waves his soul now seemed content to drift on, a shadow remained in the back of her mind. Was Patrew truly accepting of her, or was this just an act? The matter of the page torn from her baby book swam to the forefront of her thoughts, bringing with it a current of suspicion that now felt alien to her. She too had taken much more kindly to her once unwilling cohabitant.

Embekah let her concentration lapse while musing over these things, her eyelids drooping. A whiff of Patrew's brew tickled her nose and made her drool, raising her every sense to greater vigilance. A goblet appeared suddenly in front of her, as if by magic. Embekah glanced up and discovered Patrew pulling out the seat across from her, having successfully delivered another goblet of his mouth-watering drink. The steam rising out of it carried a wavy bounce to it. At once she took a sip. It would have insulted Patrew greatly to let the liquid lose its greatest asset, its warmth.

"I've been thinking," he said without invitation. "I'd really appreciate hearing your thoughts on a matter."

"Oh?" Embekah glanced up at him.

Patrew nodded. "I don't want you to think of me as a charlatan given how I've demeaned the use of magic. I don't usually back down from my stance on certain things."

"Go on." Embekah drank down more of the beverage, for which she wished Patrew just name already so she could declare it her favorite flavor of whatever it was.

Patrew sighed, his lips curling downward. The rings and redness around his eyes spoke lightly of sleep deprivation. Something had clearly upset him, but as to what it was Embekah couldn't guess.

"I've been having perverse dreams, Embekah."

"Oh?" Embekah leaned across the table, reaching for his arm. "About anything in particular?"

His weak smile diminished the gleam in his eyes. "Of my pursuit of you throughout the woods, with Eveck and the others by my side, for example," he began with another groan. "Lord, that's a name I never expected to utter ever again. How easily we take the people in our lives for granted until they're no longer around."

Embekah hoped her face conveyed the proper amount of sincerity toward Patrew. Having been alone all these years, with the exception of Halscrad, she couldn't fully appreciate the scope of the knight's anguish.

"In that regard, it sounds like you have suffered almost more so than I have, being confined to this house," Embekah said, a bubble of embarrassment rising deep within her. Why hadn't she ever stopped to consider Patrew's position of being trapped in here, far away from his loved ones? Not once had he ever spoken of his imprisonment on such a personal level. He had kept it strictly professional, threatening to haul Embekah off to the deepest depths of Castle Leywa's dungeon.

Patrew swallowed hard, and then looked up from the table, his gaze once again matching hers. "Until I had these dreams, I never thought I would ever find myself missing my old life.

"How do you do it, Embekah? How do you go on when someone or something smashes your life to bits?" His eyes contained an unusual glint, possibly a quiet desperation.

"I take it one day at a time, Patrew. It's all I can do," she said. Then she let her fingers slide down the slope of his arm until they arrived at his hand. With fluid-like motion, she squeezed his digits, offering him friendship to help him cope with the nightmares.

The gesture didn't seem to reassure Patrew. "Eveck was like a brother to me, Embekah. I don't think you really understand what I'm going through. Please don't think I'm being rude by saying that."

Embekah shook off the temptation to call him out on that. "I don't think of you like that anymore."

Shock smacked itself across his face, leaving his jaw hanging, his lips separated. "But I thought you hated me for how I persecuted you."

"I did. But you've grown on me." With her free hand she brought the goblet to her face, pressing her lips against the rim so she could show Patrew just how much she appreciated everything he had done over the past several months.

Patrew tilted back in his chair, slowly withdrawing from her. His face brightened with a wide grin. "Thank you. You have no idea how much that means to me."

"It does baffle me how this barrier has managed to never break down after all this time. Whatever incantation was used to erect it, it certainly has been at a masterful level."

Patrew went to stand, heading over to the window as if to look at the empty space where the barrier awaited either of them to make another futile attempt at escape. "I would've believed you capable of breaking the barrier by now, Embekah. Are you suggesting that you might never smash it?"

Embekah shifted her shoulders up and down. "I've never tried to claim high expertise in the art."

"But surely all of these years have enabled you to gain some semblance of authority?"

"Sorcery isn't something you can fully master, Patrew," Embekah said, fighting hard not to let her tone grow sour. "Does the king always rule with perfection? Does the knight always slay a foe in battle? No."

She waited to see whether her comment would carry some weight with him. When he didn't say anything or even looked at her, she pressed on.

"I'm far from perfect, Patrew. I won't deny that I've aspired to be one of the great sorceresses of this age, but by the same token I don't lose sight of the fact that there might be some spells even I am not capable of doing."

"But you are capable, Embekah," Patrew countered, balling up his fists. "Assume for a moment that you did nothing to create the barrier holding us hostage."

"But I didn't—"

Patrew shot a hand up, interrupting her before she could finish. "I said assume for a moment," he repeated, his voice stark now.

Embekah clamped her mouth shut, well aware that the twitch in her cheek betrayed her irritation at the knight. She had worked so hard to accept him as a part of her life now. Although he did brew the best drink she had ever guzzled in her life, she could easily see their friendship unravel with the tug of a single thread.

Apparently satisfied that she would not offer him another objection, Patrew continued. "Now, as I was saying, if you are not already a master of sorcery, then how is it that the barrier has kept us in all along?"

Despite herself, Embekah couldn't believe what she'd just heard. "You still blame me for this mess, Patrew?"

"I'm not blaming you for anything. But you are the only person with magic in the area. I'm sure you noted the absence of any royal mages when I had ventured out to your manor. Only you had the power to put up the shield."

Embekah prepared to protest his latest accusation, until she realized how right he was. Who'd gathered mushrooms to build a better defense around her manor? She did. If she hadn't dropped her toadstools, she'd likely have built that barrier.

"For want of toadstools, my greatest intention was lost," she said, unable to ignore the irrefutable evidence stacked against her.

Although Patrew maintained a neutral glance on his face, his silence suggested that he had not expected this admission.

"You declare that you've toiled on such a spell?"

"Yes, but I had dropped my mushrooms in the forest while you and your allies gave chase to me."

Patrew returned to the table, reclaiming his seat while maintaining strong scrutiny over Embekah. "Is there any chance that the spell might have taken without that ingredient?"

Embekah shook her head. "Not a chance. The enchantment I had been preparing required certain elements. I'd studied various types of mushrooms and happened across a passage speaking of something called a universal veil. Inspired by what I'd uncovered, I thought I'd gather up some toadstools, or even see whether I could transfer the universal veil to more practical applications.

"Unfortunately, the only toadstools to be found anywhere in the land were in the northwest corner of the continent. As I hadn't travelled in years, I felt at the time that it was wiser to procure some from the marketplace in Trava Town."

Patrew offered a slight smirk when Embekah let her last words sink in. Evidently, he'd gotten the implication.

"Whatever's out there now, Patrew, it sure isn't a universal veil. Such a veil would've been temporary, at best. Our barrier seems to possess a permanence that I just can't fathom."

Her words knocked whatever pride had been shining in his face right out. "You're right. We could be spending the rest of our lives in here. I certainly hadn't signed up for that."

Embekah emptied the goblet, and then carried it over to the water basin for rinsing, letting the beverage settle in her stomach without saying anything. Her tension eased slightly, but she remained vigilant not to fall for any trap he might spring on her.

"Embekah, do you ever regret the things that have gone wrong in your life?" he asked, steering the conversation in a new direction.

"Example?"

"Like stealing that grove and making it your own inside your house? Or perhaps not fighting harder for your child?"

Realizing what Patrew was up to, Embekah thought of only one way to respond to this. "I believed my child was dead. At least, that's what I remember being told from someone in the alley where I had delivered. Of course, the pain I was in may've somewhat skewered my memory of events."

At least in this she was being partially truthful. The severity of her hurting ran unparalleled to anything else she experienced before or after.

Yet when it came to the other element she could recall, she shut her mouth. On the night of her delivery, a set of voices, two or three perhaps, had carried forth to her ears, ranging in scope from hushed murmurings to cries of indignation. She tried to concentrate on these noises, but both Patrew's inquiry and the distance of time put a strain on any further recollection.

"What about the indoor woods? Why would you take a chunk of the forest when it is meant to be shared with the world at large?" Patrew asked, still treading towards dangerous territory with his not-so-casual questions.

On this one Embekah obliged him. "Now that was a spell that had backfired on me. I hadn't meant to trim the forest in such a reckless way.

"No," she set the washed goblet off onto a cloth for drying, "what we have here is someone who does possess much greater skill than I. I'll wager anything that it has to do with Rotten Flesh. If we find out who Rotten Flesh really is, we just may be able to break out of here."

The sigh that arose from Patrew didn't sound at all the kind of response Embekah had hoped for.

"I don't think that'll do us any good, Embekah. It's far likelier that Rotten Flesh is just an extension of your personality, and that you're trying to cover for yourself by dismissing anything I suggest to you."

"Patrew, I think I would know if Rotten Flesh were an extension of me," she said, nostrils flaring. "The fiend's proven to be a talented mage-morph, whereas I can't even hold onto a pouch of toadstools properly. It's not that far of a leap to conclude that maybe Rotten Flesh has more to do with this than we realize."

Patrew pushed his chair out from under him, then stood and headed toward the alcove. "I'm sorry, Embekah, but I need to go rest. All of your excuses are just that. Excuses. I need to know you're going to do everything in your power to help me get out of here."

"Believe me, Patrew," Embekah snorted, "if I had any say in the matter, you never would have wound up in here with me."

Patrew retreated from the chamber in haste, leaving Embekah alone with her thoughts. Part of her was glad to see him leave, to disappear from her sight. Too many times the man's tongue tainted magic with ill-spoken words, but for a time he seemed to have put aside his phobic intolerance.

Had that man even existed? Or had Embekah simply imagined up a Patrew who could extend common courtesy to the lady of the house, who repaired things and concocted honeydew drinks capable of pleasing her palate?

She went to shut the window that Patrew, in his vexing shift in temperament, had neglected. Just before she pounded the shutter back in place, her eyes caught something twinkling in the moonlight. A flake or two drifted past the window, emblems of winter fast approaching.

CHAPTER 13

LOST IN LILACS

(Day 173, Year of the Toad)

The covers on Embekah's bed did nothing to warm her body. Even as she wrapped herself under them, the chills in the air kept sapping her of heat. Her body protested with goose bumps, making her cling tighter to her blankets.

She thought of Patrew as she lay in bed, her bones and muscles aching against every posture she applied, disrupting her rest throughout the night. That he stubbornly blamed her irked the sorceress to no end. Someone else had a hand in all of this, using the couple as pawns to destroy one another.

Unfortunately, without proof to back up her beliefs, she'd never convince Patrew of this. She should've known better, really. Scarce as they were, facts proved far better for her case than speculation. Although to be honest, Patrew's questions from their last conversation underscored his mastery in conjecture.

She remained under the covers until even they became inadequate against the cold. Casting her sheets aside, she stumbled about the chamber, seeking her lantern in the dark, feeling around for its location. Finding the handle, she snapped her fingers, lighting the lantern. What another waste of her magical and physical resources.

Ambling into the main hallway, Embekah motioned downward towards Patrew's room, concern for his ability to stay warm mounting in her mind. Even if he'd stormed out on her earlier, he didn't deserve to freeze. It was the very thing Rotten Flesh wanted to have happen. She refused to let their mutual enemy get the best of them. If she had to swallow her pride to ensure their safety, so be it.

Embekah paused at the door, her knuckles poised to knock. It would have been so easy for her to leave him be, to just give up and grant Rotten Flesh's wish.

She clenched her fists. Do not give in to such temptation, she thought. You're stronger than the impulse. Work with Patrew. You both shall overcome this.

Her fist tapped the door. After a moment of waiting, Embekah tested the knob, just to make sure Patrew had locked. It moved without resistance. Anxious to find out why he hadn't answered her, Embekah swung the door open to go inside.

Between two windows, a candlestick sconce illuminated only a third of the chamber. Embekah snapped her fingers to produce an orb of light well above her head. Perfectly creased, colorless covers swathed the mattress sitting in the far end of the room, facing her. Had Patrew even slept at all in the room?

The rest of the area proved just as kempt as what Embekah would have expected out of him. Atop an armoire reaching to the height of Embekah's abdomen lay a sword glistening in the light, shiny, waiting for its master to use it again. Maybe Patrew felt no need to use it against a mage-morph whose skills probably surpassed Embekah's.

But why wouldn't he carry it with him most of the time? With the threat Rotten Flesh posed, surely he had the good sense to keep his weapon close.

Perhaps the sword isn't the only weapon he brought into my manor, thought Embekah.

His absence troubled Embekah slightly as she made her way about the room. She opened the armoire drawers and peered inside at its contents. Aside from a few articles of clothing that Embekah had procured for Patrew a while back, she uncovered nothing out of the ordinary to indicate any ill intent on his part.

In all fairness, he could have been working on another side project, like adding more foods to his knowledge set. Perchance a trip back to the kitchen was in order. If he caught her spying on him, she'd merely cite the necessity of a twilight feasting.

She spun away from the drawers, giving a final glance over the chamber before reaching the door.

It was just as she had reached the alcove that she had seen the only thing out of place within Patrew's chamber. In the corner behind the foot-end of Patrew's bed lay a floor vase, filled with lilacs the likes of which Embekah hadn't seen in a while. The door had swung inward and had blocked her view of them when she had first entered. So where had they come from?

"Embekah, what is going on?" Patrew's words carried over from the direction of the threshold.

The sorceress reeled away from the lilacs. "I wondered if you were okay. The first of winter is finally upon us and I would rather you not become prey to such frigid air in my home."

Patrew sauntered up to her, eyeing her with a warm gaze, his silky tunic rippled but not wrinkled. The sum of his jaw no longer had whiskers protecting it from any arctic drafts. It was as though he had been reborn with a new face, smooth but strong, his features dominating even without the beard.

"I appreciate the concern, my lady," he said, his voice genuine.

His velvet rasp snared a tingle in Embekah's spine, a sensation attributed to more than just wintry drafts. A thumping sound caught Embekah off guard, the thunder of her own heart.

"You've never spoken so kindly to me before," said Embekah, nearly oblivious now to her trespass in his room. Her room. It was still her room. She had just lent it to him for so long as the barrier held.

Only her mind couldn't wrap itself around that notion now. No longer able to veer away from him, she absorbed the solid foundation of his jaw line, her tongue saturated in drool. The faint aroma of lilacs in the air invited a sweet departure from her worries. Her arms fell at her sides. A burning desire rose inside of her, threatening to undermine every wicked opinion she had ever believed of the man.

"I have wronged you in so many ways, Embekah," Patrew said, his tone husky. He took a step toward her, remorse perched upon his lips, his pupils thick with dilation. "I have acted in arrogance and stupidity. For that, I deeply apologize."

He bowed down to her like she was the queen of Castle Leywa, a position for which Embekah had never vied for in her life. Bending down onto one knee, he took her hand in his, caressed both sides of her fingers with a gentleness she had never expected from him, and drew his lips to her middle knuckle.

"Patrew," Embekah cooed his name, unable to fend off the temptation of embrace much longer. "Your lips are so soft against my skin. Is this even wise?"

The smile he gave her crushed any doubt that he did not have enough warmth to get him through the night. His eyes lit up as the energy of her light orb caught them in just the right sparkle.

"We have found friendship in each other during these trying times," he whispered, his lips still near her hand. "We have found solace in a place we'd have not seen, were we to never unite in such unlikely circumstances."

The lilac fragrance seemed stronger somehow, as though it had waited until now to entice her, to make her feel as though every chamber in her house was like the indoor forest, only without the obstruction of walls. She closed her eyes as a second kiss grazed her flesh. Soon a rhythm of soft taps from his lips crept up her arm.

Unwittingly Embekah nudged away the sleeve of her robe, letting Patrew continue unabated. She closed her eyes and lost herself in random thoughts, dreams. Her heart beat faster, her breathing rising in intensity, as her body prickled with anticipation.

Then she brought her hand to his chin, and tilted it upward for their eyes to meet. Her heart thrashed against her chest with an impulse she hadn't felt in over twenty years, but now recalled with crystal clarity as the day that she had given in to such emotion once before.

"Patrew," she whispered her name. Was this really the warrior who'd sought her destruction less than a year ago, the same guard who would stop at nothing to bring about her obliteration?

She glanced once more at her once would-be jailor. At this, only one truth coursed through her brain.

Nothing he had done to her in the past mattered now.

Her lips reached his. She pulled him up so that they could be as close to equal in height as was possible. Then she pressed her body firmly into his, absorbing some of the heat from his form into hers, connecting with him on a level she had never dreamed possible.

In a single heartbeat, their clothing became not unlike the barrier which had barred them from traveling the world all this time. Embekah made the first move, shedding herself of her delicate garments, propping herself up in the role of hostess, inviting Patrew into a realm where he might yet learn to appreciate the nature of magic.

Patrew's own fabrics departed from him in gentlemanly haste, like he had no intention of overstepping his boundaries with Embekah. His palms grazed her whole body over with a steady pace. Not fast enough to make him seem too eager for this moment, but neither slow enough to suggest that he was bored of her.

Using gentle kisses and strokes as guides, Patrew led Embekah over to his bed. The frame had been built enough to fit two people on it, not that Embekah had had much reason to check. Mostly the bed had gone without practical use for years, as Embekah had a cot of her own in the room she'd claimed.

Tonight, she'd rest on a bed she was unaccustomed to, with a man who never stopped surprising her.

Together, they descended onto the mattress. Peeling back the blankets, the quickly climbed underneath and at last connected with each other in the one way they'd never seen coming.

#####

The back of her head struck her pillow some time later. She gasped for air and could hear the light wheeze of Patrew's own breath, though his side of the bed didn't jostle near so much as hers did. A snore from him soon told her why.

Just as well, thought Embekah. She had accomplished what she'd set out to do, even though it'd taken an unexpected turn. She poked Patrew softly in an attempt to stir him one last time before slumber claimed her as well. He didn't respond.

"Let him have his rest," she told herself. While she lay there thinking of how things might turn out if they stayed on this path, dismay seeped back into her heart. It had nothing to do with whether he'd reject her. In all honesty, any relationship she might undertake with him would only end in her arrest the instant that barrier came down.

No, what had crept into her mind was the image of Rotten Flesh. Somewhere out in her manor was a creature with powers rivaling Embekah's, if not surpassing them, too.

A snort from Patrew's side of the bed gave Embekah a start that she swallowed down in silence.

You're being unreasonable, Embekah, she thought. She clasped the sheets firmly, drawing them nearer, forgoing any attempt to rescue her garments from the floor where they awaited her. The cold hadn't yet gotten so unbearable to where Embekah needed extra layers.

She tried to rest for a couple of hours, if only so that she could feel her legs again. Her eyes had almost drawn together entirely when a crimson shimmer flickered from somewhere off to her immediate right. Embekah's eyes flew open once more. She rolled her head in that direction, her nose detecting an odor far from the dreamy scent of lilac.

"What is that?" she asked, hoping that her nose was simply misleading her. With winter in full effect and the windows essentially shut until spring, the chance stood that the musk originated from stale air.

An icy grip snatched her arm. The muscles in her gut clenching, Embekah looked up. Rotten Flesh glared back at her, the mage-morph's breath being the stench's source.

"Hello, lover," Rotten Flesh said with a deep cackle.

CHAPTER 14

FLESH AND BONE

Embekah threw the sheets over Rotten Flesh's face, scrambling off the mattress before her tormentor could stop her. She dashed toward the threshold of Patrew's chamber, her body still bare. Donning her layers would have to wait until she fled from Patrew's sudden replacement.

"In a hurry to leave so soon?" asked Rotten Flesh, the taunt in its raspy tone strong. "I shall ache if your needs were not adequately met just now."

Embekah swung about to face Rotten Flesh, anger propelling her every motion. "You can't get under my skin."

Rotten Flesh cackled, peeling the sheets from its figure. "I am under your skin. I know your very lust, your every weakness. You succumb to temptation all too readily, all because you fear isolation. You seek sanctuary in the arms of another."

The sorceress threw up a temporary screen of gold energy around her body so that Rotten Flesh wouldn't touch her.

"Oh please, Embekah." Rotten Flesh shifted its head about in a full circular rotation. "Why bother wasting your limited resources still at your disposal on a laughable defense charm? I thought I wasn't worth the trouble."

It took Embekah her last degree of might not to attack rashly. Although Rotten Flesh had caught her off guard for a moment or two, common sense had returned to Embekah. She wouldn't be goaded into making a grave error.

"What did you do with Patrew?" Embekah demanded, ignoring the brute's mockery.

Rotten Flesh snickered again. "You do not possess the luxury of asking questions, Embekah Mare. I ask them of you. In due time, I shall feast on your withering spirit and wash it down with the blood from your broken corpse."

Embekah channeled her concentration into a single thought. Only light magic would serve as a foil for Rotten Flesh's dark sorcery. Despite the drain on her body, regardless of her limited resources, she held on. The brightness in the chamber increased, her determination fueling this force.

"What is this? Another pathetic parlor trick?" Rotten Flesh's sneer seemed more malevolent than sarcastic.

Refusing to dignify that with a response, Embekah maintained her focus. The creature before her had stripped her of near everything, but Embekah still had plenty to fall back on. Even this trickster had to have a weakness in magic. Embekah would've wagered her abode on the chance that Rotten Flesh hadn't refined any other talents outside of its typical arsenal.

The shadowy mage grunted at this. "I'll get to you. You have never evaded me for very long. Even if you do by some stroke of luck manage to retreat, there are only so many chambers in this house in which you can hide. The barrier has sealed your fate. You will be dead before the spring thaw."

Her spell now emitting a hum almost capable of muffling Rotten Flesh's words, Embekah unleashed a pulse throughout the room, knocking the fiend backwards. Keeping in mind that maybe Rotten Flesh had harmed Patrew, Embekah beckoned obedience from the very air in the room, ensnaring the other mage in a contained current.

"I find your threats empty. Surely if you wanted to kill me, you would have done so already," Embekah shot back, paying little heed to Rotten Flesh's assertion of when she might perish.

"Sometimes the toad must wait to snare a fly in motion with its tongue."

"This is one fly you won't swallow," said Embekah, directing the air to hurl Rotten Flesh toward the ceiling.

"You sound so certain of that." Rotten Flesh made no guttural noise even as its body crashed against the platform above her head.

Embekah wriggled her finger, ordering the air to suddenly drop Rotten Flesh, the mage-morph crashing against the floor an instant later.

"Well-played," grunted Rotten Flesh. The fiend glanced up at her, a thin thread of dark liquid smeared against its lips. "But you cannot keep this up forever. You just don't have enough assets left to continue this pace much longer. I, meanwhile, will not be deterred, not even by this setback."

Absolute silence rose from deep within Embekah. Most of what Rotten Flesh said rang true, even if she refused to admit it. The idea of death on or just before the first day of spring gave her pause.

"Have you nothing to say now?" Rotten Flesh picked itself up off the floor. "Is itty bitty Embekah all done trying to dissuade me from my duty now? Could it be that she finally grasps how she cannot survive?"

Embekah flung her palm in Rotten Flesh's direction, her target lying on the other side of the mage. At once the armoire swirled out of its place and crashed into her nemesis, supplying the furniture with enough momentum to heave Rotten Flesh into the wall opposite from where the fiend originally laid.

"You are getting on my last nerve," growled Rotten Flesh, now pinned by the chest, flailing its free limb about in frustration.

Embekah darted out of the room, not waiting around for Rotten Flesh to free itself from the temporary restraint. Only one chamber appeared capable of providing her with sanctuary: the indoor forest.

Snapping her fingers once more, she summoned light from every available sconce candle in the corridor, using the temporary illumination to help her see. After passing each light, she muttered a quick chant to diffuse the radiance, hopefully hindering Rotten Flesh's effort in catching up to her.

She had just about made it to the indoor forest when she stopped dead in her tracks. Blocking the entryway into her last refuge, Rotten Flesh finally revealed the first display of talent not involving switching bodily forms. Lying at the base of Rotten Flesh's feet was Patrew, a bulbous bump protruding out of his forehead.

Biting her tongue, Embekah stole a quick breath to center her awareness.

"You believe yourself a woman of power, do you not, Embekah?" Rotten Flesh grinned. "I believe my conquest of your lone ally has brought an abrupt end to your claim."

Embekah gave wary reflection to her next move. No matter what spell she sought out to use against Rotten Flesh, it probably wouldn't reach the abomination in time to prevent Patrew's death.

"All right, then. You have me. What happens now?"

"It's most fortunate that you have a good head upon your shoulders, Embekah. It should make your death much cleaner. Drapes and rugs shouldn't needlessly be stained by the splatter of blood."

"Stop playing games with me," Embekah huffed, "and get to the point of all this. If you want me dead, then by all means make it so. But leave Patrew alone. Your slight is with me."

Rotten Flesh howled in such a manner that dust ascended from its throat in a cloud, cast out of the rotted wasteland serving as the creature's mouth, poisoning the air. Embekah stood far enough away that the cloud dispersed shortly before touching her. Maybe the creature never meant for it to reach her.

"You do not get to dictate terms to me, Embekah. You will learn of how precisely you will die very shortly.

"Yet now is not that time. I still have much to do before I can release you into nothingness. Not everything is in place as of this moment. I still lack an element..."

Embekah took a step toward Patrew, but stopped just as Rotten Flesh burned a hole into the floor using fireballs it spouted from its eyes.

"Do not seek claim on the fallen knight, Embekah," said Rotten Flesh. "He is not yours to declare."

What exactly did that mean? Embekah looked downward at Patrew. Was Rotten Flesh someone who had a deep, personal connection with the knight? Was that the reason for the fiend's constant assaults upon the couple?

In that instant Embekah realized something. The word couple had somehow wandered into her thoughts, like a wayward traveler from a distant terrain, knocking at the door of her mind. For some reason the term sounded very dangerous for Embekah. Given how the mage prevented her rescue of Patrew, she didn't think this was mere coincidence.

And if Rotten Flesh detected even the faintest hint of intimacy between the sorceress and knight, it might put Patrew in more peril. Was it worth risking his life to refuse this foul being its revenge?

"I offer no such claim to this man," Embekah said, choosing her words carefully so as not to betray her new bond to Patrew.

"Then what were you doing in Patrew's bed?" The way Rotten Flesh's crooked teeth glistened in the candlelight couldn't have been more menacing.

Embekah looked away, the lack of clothing against her skin becoming harder to disregard. The fiend seemed to already know what she and Patrew had done, granted its taunt of "lover". By no means however did she have to confirm this.

"Every bed in this house belongs to me. I can sleep wherever I want, whenever I want."

"Without your clothes on, in the dead of winter?" Rotten Flesh threw a nod to Embekah's garmentless body, the malicious humor in his eyes faded.

"What can I say? I've wrapped myself in an invisible field of heat. I know it's a kooky way of keeping warm, but since when have I ever been conventional?"

"Even you would not squander your magic that recklessly. You're lying."

Without warning, Rotten Flesh shot its nails from its fingertips, the nails shifting into bony, jagged blades half the length of an arm. Embekah scarcely had time to erect another shield, forcing Rotten Flesh's weapons to bounce harmlessly away. Ten rounds later, Rotten Flesh shook its sickly-looking fist at the sorceress.

"You can't protect both yourself and Patrew, Embekah." Rotten Flesh hissed, kneeling down next to Patrew, slathering the warrior with its gangrened tongue. "I daresay he'll find my kiss much more enticing than yours, vile sorceress."

Embekah squealed in a high-pitch, unable to conceal her revulsion, but a groan from Patrew snagged her notice. She watched as Patrew arose from where he'd lain upon the floor, his skin hue shifting to that of Rotten Flesh's, his eyes becoming vacant voids not unlike those of her enemy.

"I shall slay you, dragon woman. With my blade I will make a trophy of your head," Patrew remarked with a coarse rasp as Rotten Flesh magically pulled his sword out of thin air and supplied him with it.

Embekah braced herself for battle, hoping she wouldn't be forced to take a life. But where she held reservations about ending another's existence, Rotten Flesh enjoyed no such mercy. Knowing what the mage-morph had in store, she realized she'd have to cross a line herself. At least self-defense could be her excuse if things truly got ugly.

Plus, it wasn't as though anyone could prosecute or execute her either, given that the barrier obstructed people from getting in or out. Maybe being confined to her own domain all of these months wasn't such a bad thing after all.

Embekah rooted herself in place, ready for Patrew's first swing, when suddenly cobalt energy tore through the air, blinding Embekah. The decrepit fiend and its puppet howled in anguish and outrage. If the magic that had shot through the chamber meant the end of Embekah as well as the others, then at least the sorceress wouldn't have to watch her demise fly right at her.

The glow faded a moment later. At first Embekah only spotted Patrew face down on the floor. She found no trace of Rotten Flesh anywhere.

"So I've been sick with worry all this time over whether or not you were even still alive," a woman's voice tore through the air, "and here I find you, clearly in distress. If you were in this much trouble, the least you could have done would be to send your toad out my way."

Embekah caught sight of an image she never expected to see again. There, towering over the fallen Patrew with one booted foot pressed against the knight's backside, stood Tarbra Relsh.

"Are you going to offer me a drink any time soon, Embekah? I'm awfully thirsty."
CHAPTER 15

TARBRA'S JOURNEY

Once Embekah had slipped comfortably into the garments she had brazenly discarded by Patrew's bed, she turned her focus to Patrew. From all appearances he'd recovered enough from Rotten Flesh's influence that he wouldn't pose a problem again anytime soon, though Embekah refused to make a judgment call until he awoke.

Quietly she tiptoed out of the chamber. Outside, she considered sealing Patrew in there as a cautionary measure, but decided against it. If Rotten Flesh reappeared and Patrew couldn't escape, it could spell disaster for everyone. She had to stay on top of things with that mage-morph still lingering about.

The daylight crept back into dominion of the skies, lending assistance to the manor lighting. The snow which had fallen overnight nearly brought Embekah to shut the drapes altogether. But she was so sick of looking at the same walls. Even the indoor forest had lost some of its prestige. Devouring the image of the smooth, undisturbed snow with her ravenous eyes inspired Embekah more than anything else.

While she stood there, a sneaking suspicion swam about within her. Maybe it was nothing, but the window Embekah stood at faced the direction of the main route leading toward Trava Town. From this perspective, she should've spotted evidence of Tarbra's trek up to the manor. Unless a foot of snow had fallen in the last few minutes, the innkeeper had left none.

Really, Embekah, she thought to herself. Are you going to accuse even your oldest friend of chicanery?

Perhaps today was a good day for tending to inventory, once Tarbra had been taken care of first.

She brewed tea for the two of them, making idle chitchat with the innkeeper while the beverage boiled to acceptable levels. So far she hadn't pressed Tarbra on why the innkeeper had left the comfort of Trava Town and come all the way out here during the wintertime. And she especially refrained from bringing up the matter of the barrier, the same one Tarbra managed to stroll right on through without hindrance.

"You must have had a long journey," Embekah said, pouring the honey-brown liquid into two goblets. She set the kettle down back on the stove before carrying both chalices over to the table where Tarbra sat in wait, the innkeeper still sporting her raven-black cloak as a testament to the arctic drafts permeating throughout the chamber.

"My journey is only part-way over," said Tarbra, removing her leather gloves to better handle the bronze goblets. "I wouldn't have bothered on stopping in here for the night if the weather hadn't turned so dreadful. The last thing I'd expected was snow."

"You do know it's winter, right?"

Tarbra paused, the brim of her cup still pressed against her lips. She cast a sideways glance away from Embekah, like she was trying to mull her next response over carefully. "Yes, but the past few days have been so sunny I'd hoped the elements would've been kinder to me."

"It's not as though you've suffered an ice storm, Tarbra," Embekah said, nodding toward the window at the sunbeam filtering through the glass.

Tarbra finished off her swig before drawing the cup away. "I would rather have not dealt with the snow at all, even if it is on the ground."

"Then why didn't you plan on going on this trip at a more convenient time of the year?" Embekah took great care in not overstepping her bounds. After all, Tarbra was the first person she'd seen in months outside of Patrew. It probably wouldn't have been in her best interest to chase away such a fresh source of human contact.

"Unique circumstances. Another old friend fell ill and required my assistance. I had to leave the Z'lymor Inn to my sister so that I could go take care of more pressing matters. It's sheer coincidence that I would happen to find you all the way out here in the middle of nowhere."

Embekah smiled lightly, letting Tarbra think that she actually bought into such a bold-faced lie. Although to be honest, she had to admit that Tarbra almost had her convinced.

"This is where I've lived for the past twenty years, Tarbra." Embekah blew gently upon her tea to cool it somewhat, and then moistened her tongue with a sip. It didn't even meet the standards of Patrew's brew. "Where I'm destined to die, too, from how things look. What I wouldn't give just to be able to run errands outside of this space."

Tarbra slanted her head slightly at Embekah. "I had wondered what became of you. Did that knight ever find you?"

Embekah firmed her lips. "As a matter of fact, he did. That was the very guy I put to bed a short while ago."

"That was him?" Tarbra held a hand to her chest, gasping softly. "I hardly recognized the guy anymore. He was so clean-shaven that he didn't seem like the one who had been harassing you months ago."

Embekah gulped down more of her beverage. "Yes. His harassment of me didn't end after I had left the Z'lymor that day. He followed me all the way back here, we got into a spat, and I collapsed. The next thing I know, I'm trapped in this forsaken place with my would-be captor."

She set her goblet down in front of her, peering out the window at the landscape she couldn't enjoy beyond the scope of her vision. The question of why it hadn't kept Tarbra out teased the sorceress's tongue.

"As I mentioned before in my last message to you, everyone in Trava Town has presumed you killed the knight, and then sealed your own fate by taking your own life shortly after," Tarbra explained. "Not a day passed where I didn't hear the gossip swing towards that particularly displeasing topic. Quite a few rumors that were passed around made it sound like you'd suffered a mental malady."

Embekah's lips curled up at this. "People always assume the worst of me."

"Yet you never defend yourself. Why is that?"

Embekah regarded Tarbra's question with only half-interest. Truth be told, she didn't care what people thought of her at all. She'd served her adult life in exile only because they couldn't forgive her mistakes. Twenty years was an awful long time for a kingdom to hold a grudge.

"Maybe on some level, I feel guilty about certain things," Embekah admitted when it became all too apparent that Tarbra wasn't about to back down.

"Such as?"

Drawing in a breath, Embekah supplied Tarbra with the simplest facts. She navigated away from any mention of losing her child, sticking only to how her former allegiance to the now-defunct thieves' guild had somehow set in motion all of this Travan hatred of her.

"It strikes me odd how Patrew would have even connected you with our thieves' guild, and not me," Tarbra said, pouring a spoonful of sugar from a table canister into her tea.

"He knows I'm a sorceress, Tar," replied Embekah, staring her friend right in the eye. "He doesn't know you used to dabble."

"Then it's good he can't do anything about it. The fact is my sick friend in Stallags has summoned me out of sorceress's retirement for one last task. I try to be done with magic, but it always drags me back in."

"Just as I grapple with my past," Embekah said, offering an indifferent smile.

Tarbra stirred another spoonful of sugar into her tea. "Can one ever fully escape from yesteryear?"

Embekah leaned in, lowering her voice just in case Patrew wasn't really resting. "Speaking of escape, neither he nor I have been able to leave here in months. There's a barrier preventing our departure, a block that by all rights should've kept you out."

Tarbra appeared more focused on studying the intricate designs lining the side of the goblet rather than what Embekah had said. After a moment, she spoke up.

"I saw no evidence of an obstruction at your front door. I entered without encumbrance."

Embekah slanted back in her seat, throwing her gaze to the ceiling overhead, racking her mind for something to explain how Tarbra had entered the manor. "My pet toad also managed to come and go during the summer months. I'd thought the spell of entrapment only worked on people, but if you're not trapped either..."

"Hold on," Tarbra said in a discouraging tone. "I've only set foot inside your home. There's still the matter of exiting."

She's right, Embekah thought with disdain. They had no guarantee that the innkeeper could go back the way she had come. Embekah clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. No time like the present to put their fears to the test.

"Well, then, shall we finish our tea and see you to the door?" Embekah asked.

Tarbra smile wryly. "Only if you're not really throwing me out of your house."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Embekah said, winking at her friend. "I just need to know if there's a way I can get out of this alive."

"What about Patrew?" A quizzical glance grew on Tarbra. "Are you not worried about his well-being, too?"

A smidge of shame panged Embekah. Of course, she cared for the knight. Hadn't their recent escapade proven this?

Yet even to this day Embekah couldn't ignore the threat he'd made since this began. The image of the windowless, watered down walls of Castle Leywa's dankest dungeon still clung to her mind.

"Patrew can fend for himself," Embekah said. "I'm not about to fight his battles for him."

"But you're just going to let him stay here. In your home?"

Embekah got up from her seat to dump out what remained of her tea into the water basin. Twisting the spigot open, she rinsed the goblet out. "It's not my home anymore."

"I don't understand."

The desire to tell Tarbra her situation with Patrew overwhelmed Embekah to the point where she stared off in space, her living situation the only thing on her mind. As a result, she neglected to hear the gushing liquid in her sink and the water basin overfilled. Tarbra gasped and dashed off to retrieve a cloth hanging from a corner rack. Water streaming down the counter's sides and onto the floor, Embekah rushed to twist the valve shut. Then, with a wave of her hand, she made the excess water disappear in a violet energy.

Disaster averted, she swallowed down the impulse to admit anything to Tarbra. Not confessing her feelings to Rotten Flesh had been difficult enough. Embekah didn't know how much longer she could dodge the subject when it came to her oldest friend.

"Ever since I became trapped in here, this place hasn't felt like mine," Embekah said, grumbling as she checked for any remaining puddles. "I no longer feel connected to the walls around me on some level. Shouldn't a house be more than just that? Shouldn't it also be a home?"

Tarbra's brow arched upward. "At least you have a roof over your head, Embekah. That has to count for something."

Embekah cleared her throat, taking the cloth from the innkeeper and casting it into the basin for the time being. "I'm sorry. It can't count for much when the walls around you form a lifeless husk."

Tarbra glanced around at all the furnishings her eyes could see. "You've built a life here."

Tarbra would never appreciate everything Embekah went through. Acknowledging this disappointing truth, she led her old friend to the front door, noting that Tarbra hadn't never even hung up her cloak. Not that she could really blame the innkeeper. With Rotten Flesh lurking about, warm air proved difficult to come by.

They arrived at the front door a moment later. As Embekah opened it for Tarbra, she couldn't help but hope that today might be her day to finally run.

"There it is. The world beyond." Embekah spent a few moments taking it all in: the powdered field, the crisp nip in the air, the possibility of freedom beyond her doorstep. How could it already have been half a year since her last outing to Trava Town?

"I can't even imagine what you've gone through these last several months," Tarbra said, clasping the sorceress's shoulder.

"I didn't expect you would." She took Tarbra's hand and made their fingers interlock, treasuring her old friend's caress. If the spell was really meant for just two, Tarbra stood a very good chance of walking out that door.

For the first time in almost forever, Tarbra wrapped her arms around Embekah, gently squeezing. A wave of sorrow splashed against Embekah's insides, but she managed to nudge Tarbra onward.

"I just want to tell you one thing, Tarbra," Embekah said, lowering her voice to speak candidly with her friend. "Once you step outside, appreciate what you have out there in the world. Never take anything for granted."

Tarbra offered Embekah half a smile. "I'll try to keep that in mind, my friend."

"Also, if you should happen to need to relinquish some of your inventory surplus, I would be more than happy to take it off of your hands," Embekah added at the last possible opportunity.

Tarbra smirked at this. "I'll keep that in mind."

She turned to leave, sticking her foot toward the other side. It came right across the center of the threshold, only to collide with a familiar energy signature.

"What the...oh no!" The realization sank in quickly for Embekah. "The spell that was cast upon my house was never meant to keep people out."

Shock gripped Tarbra's face as she swaggered slightly, catching her balance against the threshold. "What's going on here, Embekah?"

The sorceress's next words carried across the air in a soft whisper. "The barrier was created to keep people in."

CHAPTER 16

THIRD CAPTIVE

(Day 174, Year of the Toad)

The transition from two housemates to three did not come any easier for Embekah now than when Patrew had first moved in. Tarbra spent several hours knelt down by the front door. She'd closed it to keep the cold air from seeping in, but her glazy gaze stayed transfixed on the flap. Even as she slunk down on the floor between the end table and the still-barricaded access, she couldn't or wouldn't stop staring at the entry. Her legs spread out across the threshold, blocking the door. Not that this really proved to be a problem at present.

Embekah's patience with trying to pry Tarbra away from the door met its limits at once. Though she sympathized with Tarbra, Embekah had grown accustomed, if not fully accepting, to this imprisonment. In time, Tarbra would adjust, too.

Besides, the innkeeper provided an additional source of magic Embekah could exploit if the need arose. No sooner had she drawn this conclusion than Patrew stumbled into the hall, catching his first glimpse of the latest person imprisoned in the manor. The glint in his eye reminded Embekah of the day he'd spied Embekah and Tarbra talking at the Z'lymor Inn.

"What is this?" Patrew asked. "Have we finally been rescued?"

Embekah couldn't fault him for his enthusiasm, even if she didn't share it. "No. Tarbra was on her way to help a friend and came upon my manor most unexpectedly."

Patrew couldn't seem to reel his glance away from the innkeeper. "A friend? Who helps out a friend in the dead of winter?"

"That was my first thought also," Embekah said, wondering why Patrew hadn't yet blasted Tarbra yet for crimes of the past. The sorceress even had identified Tarbra by name, yet still the knight hadn't displayed a hint of mistrust.

Patrew knelt down by Tarbra, offering her a hand to pull her up. "I'm sorry you wound up here. I didn't think it was possible for anyone else to walk through that door," he said, gazing in the entryway's direction.

"Oh, she walked through all right," Embekah replied. "But if you've look at the despair on her face, you'll understand why I gave up trying to help her up."

Without waiting for a response from Tarbra, Patrew shoveled her into his arms. He made his way to the chaise longue where he had deposited Embekah months before. Easing Tarbra into the seat, he then went for a blanket he'd evidently stashed in a corner some time ago. "I'm beginning to wonder if the only reason I got myself into this mess was because you ladies need someone to watch out for you."

Embekah, halfway to the kitchen to cook up enough rations for the three of them, paused in the alcove. "What did you say?"

Patrew threw the blanket over Tarbra before facing the sorceress. "Look, before you get all hysterical on me, I said what I did because it's a proven fact that you need all the help you can get, Embekah. Even this woman, who has served as a liaison for you over the years," he gestured toward Tarbra, "has proven needful of protection."

"How very gallant of you," Embekah said, her appetite fully quenched without the luxury of food. All of this talk about women needing a man to rescue her churned her stomach in such a way that she almost lost control over her previous meal.

And something else about what he'd just said didn't sit right with her, either. Something her mind blanked out on, given her growing rage over his disgusting views on a woman's supposed frailty.

Patrew stepped toward Embekah. "I don't mean this in a chauvinistic way, if that's what gotten you riled up all of a sudden."

"Oh?" Embekah snorted. "Then tell me, dear Patrew, what you meant by that."

Patrew sighed, the skin around his eyes showcasing noticeable rings. Was his body betraying a fatigue he'd just as soon not speak of with her? "I'm sorry. I just meant that you need a friend. Everybody needs a friend."

Uncertain of how coherent Tarbra was at the moment, Embekah rushed to Patrew, snatched him by the arm, and dragged him off to the far corner of the room.

"I know you think you mean well, Patrew," Embekah began, selecting her words with care, "but I'm more than a match for you, dear."

Patrew's cheeks lit up like he'd been out in the cold for a lengthy spell. "Is this what I should always come to expect as gratitude from you?"

With a grunt, Embekah shook her head. "You're impossible."

"And you need me."

"Not out of any sort of desperation, mind you."

"If you say so."

Embekah strode away from him, heading back over to check on Tarbra. The innkeeper's eyes were closed, her steady, rhythmic breathing inviting Embekah to relax for a while.

"I just don't get how she came in. I thought the spell kept people out and the two of us in," said Patrew, evidently referring to the barrier once more.

Realizing Patrew was still in the dark about Tarbra's entry, she shifted to a sitting position on the floor, gripping Tarbra's fingers gently. She told him everything about how Tarbra had wound up on their doorstep.

"This magic thing baffles me still," Patrew said once Embekah filled him in. "I just don't get how this blasted spell has kept us in this manor for this long. And now we have an extra housemate? Should I anticipate seeing Eveck trapped in here with us next month?"

Amused by Patrew's exaggeration, Embekah nonetheless retained a cool tone with him. "All this time, I still haven't figured out how that spell has lasted. Some force has to be controlling it."

Patrew crossed over toward the entrance leading to the parlor, a few feet away from Embekah. He stepped inside the room for several moments.

"What are you doing?" Embekah asked, her curiosity strong but her body requiring adequate rest.

"Building a fire."

How thoughtful of him. Embekah gave Tarbra another squeeze, expecting no response. The drain of travel, coupled with suddenly being cut off from the rest of the world, had already exhausted the innkeeper. Being held captive in an unfamiliar dwelling probably didn't help, either.

"Thank you," said Embekah. "I'm assuming you're going to move Tarbra into the parlor shortly, then?"

"Indeed, which is why you need me," Patrew replied, though his voice sounded lacking in conceit this time.

She knew he had a point. With the only spare bedroom having gone to Patrew months ago, the parlor remained the best place left for Tarbra. It certainly would've been nice if Patrew voluntarily surrendered his chamber for Tarbra for a couple of nights, though.

In the meantime, with a little rest and some coaxing, Tarbra might be lured out of retirement. Then the two old friends could combine their resources, and possibly put an end to the binding spell.

Of course, having a second expert in the mystical arts might set Patrew off on his anti-magic rant again.

"Can I ask you a question, Patrew?" Embekah asked when he came back into the room.

"Can it wait until after we move your friend into the parlor? The fire is lit and I want to get this over with."

Embekah didn't like the idea of putting off the discussion much longer, but by the same token she didn't want Tarbra to freeze in the hallway when a blaze dancing about in the parlor's hearth would serve her so much better.

Propping Tarbra up with an arm underneath her, Embekah led her friend into the next room. She could hear Patrew grunt behind her as he threw the bulk of his weight into lifting the chaise. Such a fitting fate for a man who would not sacrifice his bed to the innkeeper!

After a few setbacks, Patrew navigated the seat across the doorsill. The greatest challenge came when his knees buckled and the weight of the longue nearly broke him. He got the longue to the distance of a few feet from the flames. Unfortunately, he'd dropped it so that Tarbra would wind up facing away from the fire. Embekah coughed and tapped her foot, wordlessly pointing out his blunder to him.

Once Patrew spun the seat around, Embekah gently nestled Tarbra deep into the seat. She wiped her brow with her sleeve, although in truth Patrew had done the much harder task.

"Thank you for making her more comfortable, Patrew," Embekah said.

Patrew graciously bowed to her. "The pleasure was mine."

"I guess your assistance really is a commodity in this household, because you certainly came through when we needed it most."

Patrew didn't answer, but instead approached the fire to warm his fingers. "The weather has grown so frigid that I would not wish chills upon this woman."

"So long as the three of us fight to survive, I don't see that becoming a problem." Embekah's gaze descended upon the warrior she had lived with these last two seasons.

Patrew stood upright. "I suppose I ought to cook up some more brew. All of this work has made me thirsty."

"Same here."

Assured that Tarbra would sleep soundly in the longue for a while, Embekah followed Patrew out of the parlor and down the hall toward the kitchen.

#####

An hour passed. As the drink settled in her goblet, Embekah brought up the one thing she'd been meaning to ask.

"Why are you so afraid of magic, Patrew?"

The knight swallowed a swig before responding. "I believe we have addressed the matter before, Embekah."

"Be that as it may, I find the matter unresolved. There's a reason why that barrier hasn't fallen yet. I've lost all patience on figuring out the details."

Patrew stretched his arms about, making a yawn that sounded slightly embellished. Stubble around his lips indicated a return to a healthy beard soon. "I've told you that I don't like it."

"Fine," Embekah said, sipping from her goblet, eyeing him the whole time. She set her beverage down, carefully pondering her options. Only one course of action surfaced.

"You may want to know that Tarbra is a sorceress as well, though she has been out of practice for quite some time now."Patrew made no discernible reaction right away. Either he was still letting his last gulp of brew settle in his gut, or Embekah's reveal had truly sunk its teeth into him so hard that the news had shocked his every last sense dead.

"I knew the woman came across as peculiar," he remarked a couple of moments afterward.

"Did you now?"

The knight nodded. "I've been trained to watch people carefully. Some of them, you just can't trust. I always thought that if I let a loose thread like you remain on the tapestry of our kingdom, you might well unravel the drape."

Embekah sensed there was a bit of truth to his words, although she wasn't quite ready to put anything past him. "But my use of magic certainly didn't bring you to my door on its own. The thieves' guild had a role in your decision. Yet aside from Tarbra and me, no one else in the guild practiced sorcery."

"The innkeeper was in the guild, too?" Patrew perked up at once over this.

Careful not to react to his burst in energy, Embekah poured another swill into her belly. "Yes, although I'm not sure how far her involvement reached. Like I've said before, this was all twenty years ago, before the guild disbanded."

"If only that were true," Patrew muttered, his voice trailing off, his eyes growing vacant.

"Of course it's broken up, Patrew. Outside the two of us, we've not even seen or heard from other guild members. We presumed most had been imprisoned, or killed while battling the royal family's finest zealots."

But Patrew had seemed to miss most of what Embekah said. "Hmm?"

Embekah leaned across the counter to tap him on his knuckles. "Patrew, you're not even listening to me anymore."

Patrew reeled back, apparently having just reawakened from whatever daydream he had indulged. "Sorry, Embekah. I was just thinking about what you said."

"Ha. Right." Embekah slammed into the back of her seat, crossing her arms. "Do me a favor, Patrew. Let me know when you're actually interested in hearing me out. That way, I won't waste my breath on you."

Patrew adjusted his posture, his eyes lighting up with dread. Was he being sincere now? Had he finally snapped to attention? Or was he just pretending to care?

"Embekah," he said, "I'm sorry. I want you to know the truth."

"Which is?"

Patrew rose from his seat. He swung away from Embekah and paced to the other side of the room, his feet stirring a slight groan of protest from the floorboard. Then he spun back once more, downwardly tracing the slopes on his face with one hand.

"My father is a sorsophobe," Patrew began, gritting his teeth. "He abhors magic to where he's accused people—peasants, knights, even the royal family—of conspiracy by way of sorcery. To him, those who experiment with magic come into it either through birthright or by nurtured exposure.

"There were times growing up where I would joust with friends. Father approved of my cohorts until I pretended to cast spells by waving a stick around. He snatched the stick away from me and snapped it in two. And then he screamed at my play chums, threatening to whip their hides raw if he ever saw the likes of them around our cottage ever again. That right there showed how much he despised sorcery.

"I'm so glad he hadn't turned around right then, because just before he plucked my makeshift wand from my grip, I'd made a rock become invisible. He hadn't seen it fade out of sight. He was too busy belittling me for having played such a dangerous game."

"Kids are supposed to play those kinds of games, Patrew," Embekah said.

"Do kids make rocks vanish in a poof of air?" he challenged her. "By the same token, do they even worry that they could've killed their father with their folly?"

She clamped her lips shut tight, looking away from the knight before his father's attitude made her spew.

"Anyway," Patrew drew another breath, "he took me aside that evening and asked me, 'Patrew, wouldn't you rather be a knight in the Royal Army? There is much prestige and honor in becoming an armored warrior of the Leywan family. Sorcery is not becoming of a lad who's meant to do great things for his dad.'

"I, of course, chose not to disappoint him. I stopped playing those magical games at once, and dropped the friends who got in the way of my father's aspirations for me. I never stopped looking over my shoulder out of fear that he might lash me for having experimented. It was a risk I was not willing to take at such a young age."

Embekah sighed. "But you've been out from under your father's shadow for how many years now?"

Patrew gently gripped her face and nudged it back toward him. "My father was a wise man. He taught me how truly evil magic can be. If I hadn't followed his lead, I might have been tempted by the same dark forces that drove you to commit treason against your country."

A spasm of disbelief erupted in Embekah's throat. "I never betrayed the kingdom. You presume that I did just because I'm a sorceress and because I hung out with that thieves' guild long ago. When will you stop throwing my past in my face, Patrew?"

Stepping back with a grumble, Patrew slapped his forehead, like he couldn't believe they hadn't gained any ground on the matter. "That's not what I'm doing."

"Then why take the jab at me in the first place?"

"Because I had a weak moment," he admitted, sighing. "Thinking about my father and his hatred of mages just brought me to that point."

Embekah tapped her foot at him, her leg trembling violently from the fire rising deep within. "You know, my mother had a thing against idiotic knights. But have you ever heard me dismiss you valiant warrior types with vulgarity and pathetic insults?"

"No," he said, the pink in his face having faded. "I'm sorry. I never realized I let my father's bigotries dictate how I run my life."

Embekah stopped her light stomping, detecting a hint of sincerity in the knight. "Have you never expressed such hatred towards the royal mages, the ones who work with the king rather than against him?"

Patrew glanced up at the ceiling as though he might find the right answer to say scribbled up there in golden symbols. "I really never paid much attention to the royal mages much..."

"Why not?" she asked, her belly filled with enough rage to make a dragon not want to mess with her. "Is it because, unlike me, they showed their allegiance to their kingdom? Whereas I'm just a powder keg you couldn't afford to let live out in the countryside, far away from the very people you've sworn to protect. Did you ever think for a second that I never aspired to obliterate Castle Leywa, or slay its inhabitants?"

"I'm sorry I even brought this up at all," Patrew said, rushing out of the room before he incriminated himself even further.

Embekah gave pursuit, but she paused as the door to his chamber slammed shut and the handle latched. Patrew would entertain no more of her audience for the evening. She stood in the hall for a time, listening to the silence filling the air. A second later, she returned to the kitchen to empty out the goblets.

While she polished the cups with her finest washcloth by the kitchen window, she happened to look out at the night. With the moonlight refracting off the blanketed countryside, she glimpsed someone else roaming about in the midst of this winter freeze. Appalled by people's lack of common sense, she waited as the traveler grew closer to her house.

The figure approached, pausing just outside the kitchen windowpane. From her vantage point, Embekah could just make out the silhouette of a bow. Was it the archer, Eveck, who'd chased after Embekah alongside Patrew on the day she'd lost her mushrooms?

She drew the drapes shut at once. Certainly no one could be out there, not in the middle of the night, not in front of the trees by her manor. Her latest spat with Patrew must have caused her to hallucinate, nothing more. She tore away from the window and headed for bed.

Only to have the archer block her access out of the kitchen. Embekah clamped her palm to her mouth, trying to downplay her astonishment at the man's sudden appearance. But upon further inspection, insight struck a raw nerve with her as the archer's skin eroded.

"You just keep amassing the victims for me to torment, don't you, Embekah?" said Rotten Flesh.

CHAPTER 17

THE CLOUD

Guided by a gust of wind Rotten Flesh whipped up, cutlery flew at Embekah. Most of it missed her, but the prongs of a fork managed to lacerate the side of her face while she dodged a butcher's knife. Placing a magic shield around herself, she then felt around on her face for the gash. A trickle of blood soiled her digits as she glared at her foe.

"Must you always come after me?" Embekah hollered, losing herself for a second to near hysteria. The stress finally got to her. She'd enough of this nonsense. Being locked in her house for so long, all because of some stupid blockade that she couldn't remove on her own, the time had come to fight back.

Rotten Flesh flashed a grin at her. "You didn't honestly think I'd go away and not return for you, did you?"

"I had hoped you'd just go away," Embekah shot back, a tinge of doubt almost overshadowing her conviction.

Rotten Flesh suddenly held up the bow Embekah had seen a moment ago. The gesture sparked a different kind of uncertainty in the sorceress. The brute clearly presented the bow to implicate Eveck as the master of this mage's disguise.

"Oh, but I can't. I find it disheartening how you cannot grasp that the spring thaw will bring with it your demise." Rotten Flesh twirled the bow about on one finger. Either it was trying to intimidate Embekah with skill, or it was simply playing with her, waiting for the right instant to strike.

"When one's life remains confined to the same space for so many months, time ceases to hold any meaning at all," Embekah said, staring the fiend dead on.

"Most poetic." Rotten Flesh clapped. "Were you not so full of yourself, I might actually be humbled by the beauty in your words."

"Pretension is a matter I'm hardly an expert in." She could feel the weight of gravity dragging down her lips.

"Well, that's about the first honest thing you've said in twenty years." Rotten Flesh raised a free-standing cabinet into the air, using the support of just one hand while he continued to balance the arrowless weapon on the tip of his finger. A second afterward, the brute hurled the cabinet Embekah's way.

She dived out of harm's way, hearing the wood of the cabinet splinter, books, pots, pans, and dishes raining down on the floor. Ignoring the damage to possessions she just as easily could replace, Embekah returned her attention to the bow. What would anyone gain from letting her believe Eveck was Rotten Flesh? Eveck had hunted her down that day, sure, but she hadn't seen the guy since then.

"Since when do you care about my honesty?"

"I don't," Rotten Flesh said with a sneer. "I simply thought you'd like to admit just how wrong you've been your whole life."

Weary of all the drivel Rotten Flesh was spewing, Embekah unleashed a cackle the likes of which bones just about ice up. "You fool. You blame me for everything that's gone wrong? Fine! Then you do that.

"But I know the wrongs I've made over my life. I accept full responsibility for my mistakes. You can keep on bashing me if you want, but I'm done here. I'm not going to let you haunt me forever."

"Oh, it's not forever," Rotten Flesh said. "Just until I can make your innards rot from the agony of knowing you and your power mean nothing. You make a mockery out of true mages and sorcerers. You are the worst woman this kingdom has ever had the displeasure of tolerating."

Words burst forth from Embekah's lips, but they sounded distant, as though she uttered them underneath the surface of the Tojafah River. Ruby-hued plumes vacated her nostrils and lips. With the full backing of her lungs, she blew a magical cloud straight at Rotten Flesh.

The fiend didn't react in time. Immediately the vapor devoured Rotten Flesh, whose utter consumption came marked with a shriek. Embekah didn't cover her ears. Rather, she found the sound soothing, almost intoxicating. She had never given in to such dark temptation before, even as a member of the thieves' guild. Now, however, the urge to crush Rotten Flesh for its every misdeed brought Embekah to a point she never thought she'd ever cross.

"You mock me. You take everything that's kind and good and human about me, twisting it into something I'm not. You claim I'm beyond wicked, when really it's your evil which threatens Trava most." Embekah snapped her fingers, commanding the cloud to fold in upon itself, Rotten Flesh still contained deep within. A pop thundered throughout the air. Moments later the haze faded, along with Rotten Flesh.

But was the mage-morph really gone? She glanced around the kitchen, surveyed the broken dishes, the scattered clutter of pots and pans. What she wouldn't give to restore her belongings right about then.

Strange, she noted, how neither one of her houseguests had come to her assistance while she'd dealt with Rotten Flesh. Surely the commotion would've at least courted their curiosity.

Then again, to this day Patrew still held reservations about magic, while Tarbra hadn't probably awakened yet from the catatonia she'd slipped into after becoming ensnared by the barrier.

Sleep suddenly sounded good to Embekah. Once the morning came she'd contend with this latest attack.

Odd how Rotten Flesh always came after her only, wasn't it?

######

(Day 175, Year of the Toad)

A dreamless slumber later, Embekah prepared herself for the coming day long before she heard anyone else stirring. She went to the kitchen to fix herself a meal, only to find that every plate restored, every goblet sitting firmly upon the very shelf it'd been bucked from the previous eve.

How had this happened? She'd left the cabinet doors unhinged, the half-empty canisters of spices spilled across the floor, shards of glass and porcelain lying in wait for foolishly barren feet to traipse across, slicing open flesh in the process.

Someone was playing with her. Though it'd appeared like Embekah had ridden herself of Rotten Flesh for good, the barrier still sealed her in. This meant only one thing. Someone in the house, other than Embekah, had to be practicing magic.

Tarbra did seem like a good suspect at first, but these attacks on Embekah had begun well before the innkeeper had come here.

Halscrad, of course, was her loyal pet. Even if he was a mage-morph, Embekah would surely have discovered that at some point in the five years or so that he'd lived with her.

There was always a chance that Eveck, the archer, may have tagged along with Patrew on the day the barrier went up. But the way Rotten Flesh had tried to pass itself off as Eveck hinted at the likelihood that Eveck served only as a scapegoat for the past half year's many wrongs.

This left one suspect left to consider. For some reason Embekah had never shaken her mistrust of Patrew, even after being imprisoned in the manor with him, by a spell she'd never successfully countered. The knight had originally come after Embekah because of his sorcery phobia, denouncing her as a traitor to the kingdom.

But what if his fear of magic was a lie? What if Patrew had lied to Embekah all this time?

Sunlight sieved through the crack in a nearby window, casting a glow upon the instantly repaired dishes and shiny-as-new chalices. There was absolutely no way she had left the kitchen in this condition.

She stormed into the corridor, only one destination in mind. She pounded her fist against Patrew's chamber door, making the wall tremble slightly. Air shot out of her nose in several quick puffs. How could she have been so naïve?

No answer. With all the strength she could muster, she took her foot and kicked down the wooden obstruction.

Patrew lay atop the center of his bed, cross-legged, surrounded by twelve lit candles, six on each side, each pair representing a different color. He'd ditched his usual tunic and slacks for a wizard's cloak, his fingers cradling an open spell book flipped to a bookmarked page. His eyes were closed, his chin tilted slightly upward. From what Embekah ascertained he looked deeply involved in the middle of an incantation.

"I knew it!" she said, growling. "So the truth comes out. You didn't just dabble in your youth. You're a mage to this very day!"

What good her accusation would accomplish, Embekah didn't know. She'd spoken the words without fully considering their impact. Had it been in her better interest not to confront Patrew about this?

Patrew broke his concentration, his steely gaze falling toward Embekah, his lips betraying neither joy nor annoyance at seeing the sorceress.

"It was about time you found me out."

Embekah kept her expression neutral, if only because he didn't deserve to sense her astonishment. "You speak as if you wanted me to catch you."

"You haven't the slightest notion how much I wanted to tell you that I'm a mage, Embekah. I had thought my magic-phobia was a bit much, but I couldn't have entrusted you to know that I'd erected the barrier around the house."

He uncrossed his legs, sliding towards the front edge of the bed through the only gap between candles he'd left himself with. As he stood, Embekah gazed deeply into his eyes, seeking any truth at all from him. The coolness on his face divulged nothing.

"Why did you cast this spell?" she asked, biting her tongue a second later for having made too careless of a slip.

"To keep you from escaping."

She shook her head. That part was all too obvious. "What I mean is," she said between bothered huffs, "why didn't you ever tell me you were a mage?"

Patrew slid his warlock's cloak off, revealing a hairless chest that went against the grain of his face and scalp. "It has very little to do with you, Embekah, actually. In fact, if I hadn't been so desperate to seal your fate, I may never have exposed my mage-hood to you."

"Expose yourself?" Lowering her brow slightly, Embekah weighed his words with great consideration. "Explain."

Patrew sighed, the whisper of a subtle hopelessness that shouldn't have arisen from one of the kingdom's champions. "I'm not really a great Travan soldier, Embekah. I'm actually a sub-class mage who's only gotten people to believe a word he's said by virtue of charms."

"You mean charm, right?"

"No, charms," said Patrew, shaking his head. "Do you have any idea how hard it was to convince the king that I should lead the Royal Army in search of the thieves' guild's remaining known member? I practically had to perfect my magic on the king just to obtain a few soldiers, horses, and supplies to seek you out."

"I'm flattered," Embekah remarked, throwing her arms to her side.

"You have to know it wasn't personal."

"Your trying to kill me wasn't personal?" Embekah scoffed at the man.

A sheepish expression developed on Patrew's face. "I could see how you might think that. But you have to know that I only came after you to disguise the fact that I'm a mage."

"Why would your being a mage even matter to anyone?" What Patrew was telling her made no sense at all. Somewhere in his words, however, lied the truth.

"Because I want to bring honor to those around me," said Patrew. "Because there are those out there who would shun me if they ever truly learned who I am and what I do."

Embekah snapped her fingers, immediately extinguishing the candles with a simple enchantment. Though she felt her magical stamina requiring a recharge soon, which wouldn't be possible once her supplies ran out, using her reserves on something so simple felt ideal. If nothing else, it'd remind Patrew who the manor's main mage was.

"You speak as if ashamed of who you are, Patrew."

He drew a heavy breath in, gliding off the bed's edge and onto his feet, crossing the room toward the entryway, pausing just shy of leaving altogether. He reached out, clasping the alcove's frame. For a second, to Embekah it looked like he might actually try to confine her to his slumbering chamber now, of all things.

"I will not contest the instances in which I've disappointed people severely. But even on those occasions, no one's ever figured me out. It has to stay that way, you see."

"No, I wish I did," replied Embekah, keeping her tone just above sarcastic in case Patrew was ready to explode at her. A subtle smirk from Patrew somewhat diffused her concern.

"I know living in the shadow of my father's views paints a poor portrait of me as a warrior," Patrew said. "But he was right, to a fault. The price of fondling supernatural elements is very high, indeed."

"Fondle?" Patrew's word choice poisoned her mind with confusion.

"He made sorcery sound like a sick seduction," Patrew went on, raising his gaze toward the ceiling, his back still turned to Embekah. "And it is. Until I shared a roof with you, I thought I'd beaten back all temptation."

"Yet still you succumb all the same."

"I couldn't let him find out about me, Embekah. If he learned of who I really was, he'd have disowned me. I had to be his dutiful son, so I saw no alternative but to practice what he preached, even though I knew I was betraying my own kind."

"Your own kind?" Embekah found a nasty taste forming in her mouth from echoing his words. "Patrew, are you even listening to yourself?"

"Of course I know what I'm saying," he said, swinging around with his knuckles appearing strained. "A parent's influence over a child is a powerful thing, Embekah. I wouldn't expect you to get this, seeing as how you never raised your child, but I needed my father's approval. He spoke highly of the Royal Army, but any conversation about magic risked me losing him. I couldn't chance it.

"So I opted to become the best Travan knight. I couldn't see the fault in my logic. By carrying on the charade, I've done a great disservice to myself."

"What I fail to grasp," Embekah cut in, "is why you would bother letting that man's opinion of you make you less of your own person."

Patrew swallowed hard. Sweat glistened all across his face. His chin gave the slightest tremble. Why did Patrew still cling to his father's delusions and bigotry even when he knew they were wrong?

"Until you've bonded with someone and realized that fear of losing them forever, Embekah, you may never appreciate this."

Embekah paced towards him regardless of how repulsive she found his behavior. Her sympathy toward his plight won out over her need to stick up for her craft. "Well, I did realize the horror of losing my child. I lived through it. Don't tell me I don't comprehend pain, because I do. I've lived with it every day since that awful night in the alley."

"I guess you're right, Embekah." Patrew groaned. "Still, I see my father as the man he is. I want to make him proud of me, regardless of how vile he'd find my practice of mysticism."

Embekah unleashed a bitter laugh. "Be your own man, Patrew. Your dad shouldn't dictate everything you do."

Patrew suddenly thrust his chest forward. Had he crossed the line into absurdity now?

"It's easy for you to judge my father because you've lived an empty life out in the middle of nowhere. Perhaps if you'd tried to be a part of the kingdom, you might not be in the predicament you're in now."

Embekah felt the air growing stuffy around her, her garments sticking from sweat. Where a moment ago she'd nearly commiserated Patrew's dilemma, now only repugnance lapped the rim of her stomach.

"I'm here because I'd foolishly reached out towards others. I'd wanted to join a glorious cause," said Embekah. "Look where it's gotten me."

The way Patrew reeled away made her rethink the severity of her tone. But he was so damn infuriating! How could she not snap at him when he wouldn't budge from his views? Maybe Patrew's father was a shepherd. The guy certainly had a way of making his son follow his example like a sheep.

"Damn you, Embekah Mare," whispered Patrew. "Why do you have to be right about this?"

"Maybe that's why you sought me out," Embekah suggested, lowering her pitch to match that of Patrew's. "Maybe you saw a kindred spirit in me, but just went about the wrong way in getting my attention."

Patrew shot her an incredulous stare. "Doubtful. You still had crimes against the kingdom to pay for. I figured this was the best way for me to demonstrate my loyalty to my father."

"The same way he'd show you devotion if he ever caught you casting magic?" Embekah eyed him cautiously, ready in case the next thing she said set him off. So far, nothing had pushed him past that ledge.

Patrew gathered his wizard's cloak off the ground, drawing it to a few inches away from his face so that he could inspect it. "I want to be a son he can take pride in. If it means being a knight instead of a skillful mage, then so be it."

"Stop trying to please him, Patrew. You can't. It's an impossible task. Just be yourself. You've braved a year in the manor with me. You've probably faced dangers of all sorts in your tenure as a knight. You don't need anyone's approval."

"Not exactly," Patrew admitted, his cheeks putting on a blushing hue of embarrassment. "Remember when I told you that I perfected my charms on the king? It also got me out of many royal duties."

Embekah slapped her cheek in outage. "Patrew! You claim you want to make your father proud, yet you weasel your way out of responsibility through magic. What the hell kind of person are you?"

"A flawed one, Embekah. It's precisely for this reason that I haven't released us from this manor. Quite frankly, I see no rationale for ever lifting the spell of entrapment. I could spend the rest of my days in here. You've made this place the most ideal sanctuary for me."

Embekah wasn't sure what made her madder. The fact that Patrew's dad had served as a bigot instilling pure, wild hatred into his son, or the notion that Patrew took great liberty in what his definition of the truth was.

"I think I'll go," she said, unwilling to listen to any more of this.

"You're making a mistake, Embekah."

"Am I?"

Patrew affirmed this with a nod. "We can start our lives over, here and now in the barrier I've erected. No one ever has to bother us again. We can go about our days being mages, never having to fear who we are or aspiring to be more like people undeserving of our admiration."

No part of his offer tempted Embekah in the least. "I want you out of my manor, Patrew. Kindly do away with that obstruction and go away. Perhaps you should do as your father demands, since his opinion is of high value to you."

"That's hardly fair, Embekah."

Embekah shoved him into the other side of the threshold, surprising them both with the blunt of momentum in her motion. "Tell me what's fair about coming after me. I can't believe I'd let myself trust you. You're exactly like the jackass I believed you to be when you first got here."

With that, she slammed the door in on his face and spun away in a huff. What she wouldn't give for a great snooze right about now.

#####

About an hour later, she came to her senses and opted to work with Patrew, maybe placate him into dropping the barrier on better terms. She tapped the surface of his door with her fist. When no answer came, she ventured in on her own.

The candles on Patrew's bed had fallen over, probably tipped over from the bang the door had made. Thank goodness Patrew had the foresight to have snuffed out the candle flames before they'd set fire to the chamber.

On the floor near the bed's edge lay Patrew's spell book. She bent down and scooped it up, finding it still on the bookmarked page. Her eyes quickly scanned the words on the parchment. As they scanned the middle passage her abdomen muscles became clenched.

"Oh, no he didn't," she said, her mind fully absorbing the type of spell he'd tried to cast. "'Obfuscatos, the wraith of wrath. Summoned by a mage of superior level or higher, Obfuscatos is a dark mage-morph. He is capable of taking on most any forms, usually in a pale, deformed likeness of the intended subject.'"

The book slipped between her fingers, crashing against the floor in about the same spot from where she'd picked it up. She followed the tome to the ground, planting her rear firmly on the mat in front of Patrew's bed, resting her back against the bed.

"Not only has Patrew put up the force field, but he's created Rotten Flesh. Dear lord, what are Tarbra and I to do?"

CHAPTER 18

SPRING THAW

(DAY 180, Year of the Toad)

Stashing the spell book away in her chamber where Patrew would least likely find it, Embekah spent a few days mulling over things. She breathed not a word of Patrew's foray into sorcery to Tarbra for fear that he might learn of this. Knight or mage, the man was a danger.

Rotten Flesh/Obfuscatos's behavior should've shoved questions beyond the confines of her lips. But even if she'd spoken up about what went down, Patrew would've lied right to her face. At any rate, she wanted to kick herself for being such a fool.

Every day that passed now found Embekah casting a quick glance outside her kitchen window in the morning. So far, the snowpack hadn't melted, but winter still maintained its grip for several weeks. Every sunbeam that lit up the sky in the post-dawn hours threatened the imminence of a warming trend. For her, the worst thing of all came in not knowing when her reckoning day would arrive. It might be weeks off still, yet it could come tomorrow. If she could only predict the future, or at least get a good glimpse inside Patrew's mind.

Dead by the spring thaw. Rotten Flesh had promised her that. A thought skittered across Embekah's mind as she dwelled on her fate. What was Patrew waiting for? Why not kill her now, and be done with this whole blasted nonsense?

A ray of sunlight emerged from behind a cloud, adding a glisten to the snow on the ground. Beads of water began to trickle off an icicle dangling off the roof's edge. Slushy powder slipped through tree branches. Terror gutted Embekah. Winter was just about dead, and soon she along with it, if Rotten Flesh was to be believed.

Embekah poured cider into a goblet, refusing to let any of his brew stain her bronze ware. The fluid reached her lips a moment afterward, swilled down her throat, and settled in her stomach. Regardless of her effort, honeydew remnants lingered on the tip of her tongue. Still, in time the cider would do well in removing the memory of the knight's drink from her palate.

With death closing in on her, Embekah studied her kitchen cupboards and cabinets, pondering any possible use she might have for them the moment Patrew acted. She could just imagine the things Patrew's father would say about her craft. In her mind she could hear Patrew's father deriding her for every dragon scale, pint of lizard's blood, and toadstool she'd harvested over the years. The man might even deliver her to the guillotine himself, perhaps a wholesome activity he could share with Patrew.

Nothing like a parent bonding with a child over a mutual hatred, she thought.

But at least she'd die following her passion, staying true to herself even when no one else thought kindly of her. Aside from Halscrad, the only one she could count on was herself. Really, did she need anyone else in her life?

For a while back in her thief's guild days, she'd believed otherwise. It was probably this reason why she let a strange man into her life, someone she hadn't known for more than a mug of ale or three, if only for just one sultry, midnight romp.

Embekah went to tidy her kitchen drawers, only to find her baby's book sitting right where she'd left it months ago. She opened it and recalled one other person she'd have happily included in her life.

Unfortunately, past atrocities had prevented that from ever becoming reality. Would life have resulted differently if she'd been a mother to her baby?

Once more flipping through the unfilled pages still expecting golden memories, glossing over the vacant spot of a missing page, Embekah reached a decision. If she couldn't cheat death, then at least she'd take someone with her. Patrew might have masterminded this scheme to end Embekah's life, but she was onto him. Once spring arrived, she'd make him regret coming after her.

The only element Embekah still needed to factor in was Tarbra's safety. How could Embekah guarantee the innkeeper's wellbeing without letting it slip to Patrew that she was onto him?

One possibility she liked was of establishing a barrier charm on her own room. She could keep Tarbra safe in there until the battle with Patrew ended. Yes, Patrew possessed the skill capable of breaking Embekah's spell, as the passage in the spell book had confirmed. But this didn't matter so long as he remained oblivious to her incantation.

Meanwhile, Tarbra wouldn't be harmed until one of two things happened. Either Embekah would disarm the charm herself, or her death would make the shield discontinue.

This last thought left a splash of bile coating Embekah's stomach. She hadn't considered killing Patrew. Though his death would surely lift the curse upon the manor, it was too high a price to pay for her freedom. There had to be another way.

Rinsing out the now-empty goblet in the water basin, Embekah reflected over her next step. She knew who Patrew was, what he was capable of, and what he intended to do. If she wouldn't kill the guy, she at least needed some method of trapping him.

But what could possibly work against a superior level mage? Everyone had a weakness, even Patrew. If only she could uncover his.

Perhaps this explained why Patrew hadn't just slit her throat this whole time. He still had his sword, after all. He could have carved a bloody line into her flesh while she slumbered. Why hadn't he just finished the job already? Did he actually still need her alive? Was that it?

Embekah gaped outside at the foliage, spotting the first blossom of the new season ready to pop open. Her time had run out. Patrew was about to strike. Embekah still lacked a proper defense. She considered warning Tarbra, but she hadn't even seen hide or hair of the innkeeper as of late. Maybe Patrew had already slaughtered her old guild friend, and had stowed Tarbra's decaying carcass where Embekah wouldn't likely find it.

If so, it brought Embekah full circle to where she began: being on her own.

Gathering a few breads and jars of preserves she'd made over time, Embekah charged toward her bedroom, ready to barricade herself in. If he really wanted her dead, he'd have to come to her. She'd set up so many hexes that Patrew, even at his level of magical sophistication, would need time to tear down the walls she put up. She'd fight him to her last breath, denying him an easy victory if at all possible.

Before she went to gather non-edible supplies, she made certain to stash her foods out of sight, just in case she happened to suffer the audience of an unwanted interloper.

By all rights, the ruckus she created with her strides down the hall, the floorboards creaking underneath her, should've garnered the knight's interest. Yet Patrew never emerged from his chamber. Whatever he had going on in there, it kept him occupied enough for Embekah to gather all of her goods in five different excursions.

Her rations now fully acquired, Embekah scattered a stash of scrolls, quills, and ink bottles across her bed. She gazed casually at the walls of her bedroom chamber and beamed. Rotten Flesh had tried to chase her out of here earlier on. It, or rather he, had failed.

She tapped her finger first against a bottle of ink, then her quill, and finally at a roll of parchment. A light blue glow enveloped the three objects she had grazed. The cap to the bottle unfastened itself, shooting up in the air and arcing downward onto the quilt on the bed. The quill, dipping its tip into the ink container, flew up toward the parchment that had unraveled itself a moment before. Embekah observed every notation etched upon the scroll, the lines and curves resembling trees and bushes. Based on this, it seemed her own magic recommended taking the battle to the indoor forest instead of her quarters.

This made sense. The grove offered her far more protection than her bedroom ever could. With the right spell, she could slip between the shadows, lurk behind a tree, or blend in with some of the shrubbery. Patrew might grow confused, at which point Embekah could deliver her winning blow.

A knock at her door made her elbow bump the candlestick on her end table. Fortunately, she caught it before the burning wick made contact with her bed linens.

"Enter," she beckoned while peering at the scrawls on her parchment.

The doorknob rattled. "I can't. Door's locked," said Patrew, his voice slightly muffled.

"By the sweet air of life," Embekah muttered, flinging her wrist. The entryway came undone and Patrew stepped into the chamber an instant later.

"Is this a bad time?" Patrew asked, his glance meeting hers before drifting southward toward her mid-section. "Isn't it awfully cold for wearing something so...delicate?"

Embekah glanced down at the purplish, silk one-piece garment separating her bosom from Patrew's wandering eye. "I was doing fine until you called attention to it."

Patrew's face flushed in the low light of the ceiling lamp next to the door, his brow speckled with sweat. His lips parted with a tremble, as though the words couldn't make their way out.

"Well?" Embekah couldn't count the number of times he'd tested her fortitude since moving in.

"I just thought you'd like to talk. You've been rather reclusive lately, which has me worried."

"I've been preparing for my demise, Patrew." Embekah laughed coldly. "A concept I thought would've pleased you."

"Embekah, please," he begged, holding up his palm as a hint that she should take him seriously. "I'm trying to be cordial here. Surely you can find it in your heart to meet me halfway there."

Embekah choked back another chuckle. "You've got to be kidding me. Neither you nor Tarbra have spoken to me in weeks, yet you expect me to make the first concessions?"

"You've isolated yourself again. Just like always."

In her sudden haste to stand, Embekah knocked over the still open bottle of ink all over her bedspread, sullying the pure-as-snow covers in one reckless maneuver. Fortunately, she contained the spill with a simple clap, her enchantment removing any traces of a stain.

"What do you mean by that?" Embekah growled.

"Tarbra and I have grown concerned about you. We've spent days trying to figure out how we can snap you out of your mood. But our tongues lack the endurance level needed to prattle on about all things Embekah. Since Tarbra's imprisonment, you've become a bit of a bore."

Embekah didn't like his tone. "If you've come to insult me further, spare yourself the trouble. Having you as housemates is offense enough for me."

"As if your witticisms wound us mortally so," Patrew said with a yawn. "Very well. I'll make this quick. I came to find out one thing. Tarbra believes isolation has driven you mad. I had to see for myself if this was factual." He glimpsed at the parchment markings Embekah's spell had made of the indoor forest. "By the light, it appears you have."

The sorceress swallowed some air to keep her temper from escalating. "You've already condemned me. Why should I grovel for you?"

Patrew smirked. "It may help to earn you our favor. Lord knows you're in dire need of it."

"Claims who?"

The knight looked over his shoulder like someone had followed him in. "Just Tar and I. I've told her how often I've found you pining for companionship."

"Excuse me? I've led a fine solitary life, a condition your inability to let go of the past forced me into."

"I was committed to my duty, my dear lady."

"In persecuting someone who hasn't committed any sort of crime in over twenty years?" Embekah asked, glancing down at the supplies on her bed. Given how Patrew didn't look intent on leaving her alone any time soon, Embekah saw no alternative but to put her plans on hold.

"I see you've taken up a hobby," Patrew noted.

Embekah gave him no answer. What good would it have accomplished, other than inadvertently reveal her plot to ensnare him?

"Can I see what you're working on?" he asked only after Embekah had rolled up the last of the scrolls.

Embekah spun away from him. "Unless you have something important to say, I'd like to retire for the evening."

"But we're out of food."

And whose fault is that, Patrew? Embekah made absolute certain not to breathe these words to him. She'd lose her last best chance to bring down the barrier with one more misplaced step.

"Yes, I know. According to you, this whole last year is a testament to the mistakes I've committed in my life," Embekah said. "You want food? Lower the damn shield and go hunt for food. Better yet, go back to Trava Town and never bother me again." She gestured toward her bed. "I just got done making this. Do you mind if I lay in it already?"

"Aren't you going to do act upon our empty shelves out in the kitchen?" Patrew asked, almost pleading.

Embekah swung back around again. Was this how he'd murder her, by asking her needless questions? If so, she'd much rather die of extreme isolation, cut off from the world without even Halscrad as a companion, than deal with Patrew any longer.

"You wish to enlist the aid of a woman who you've sworn to capture, if not kill?" Embekah squinted at Patrew with deep scorn.

The knight held up his arms. "I just thought you'd like to know, unless of course you'd rather prefer death by starvation."

What a callous jerk. Embekah adjusted her gown so that Patrew wouldn't stare as she moved. Marching over to open an armoire, she then whipped back around to her bed, collecting her scrolls, ink, and quill. A second later, she stashed everything inside the armoire, banging the door shut with a potent thrust.

"I really wish you'd open up more, Embekah."

"I tried that. It didn't work. Perhaps Tarbra can be your confidante. As you've so eloquently put it, you already have discussed me with her."

"Jealous, are you?" Patrew grinned.

Embekah refused to take the bait. Her body needed rest. She couldn't very well sit up all night long planning defenses against death or putting up with Patrew's latest affront on her psyche.

"When Rotten Flesh comes after me again," Embekah said, lowering her voice, "I do hope you and Tarbra get away, and that you get what's coming to you."

She had made certain not to make it sound like she knew Patrew had fathered Obfuscatos with that dark incantation. Hopefully still referring to it as Rotten Flesh might assist her in this.

"The only thing that concerns me right now, Embekah, is you."

Embekah couldn't let such a transparent deception carry on. "By the heavens above, Patrew! Just leave me to die. It's what you've always wanted, isn't it?"

She didn't realize she'd shouted, and only now took note of the quiver swimming throughout her body.

"I'm sorry to have bothered you. I'd still like to know what you've been doing lately." He cast a thoughtful expression on his face for a second before adding, "If you want to open up."

"You've been right on one matter, Patrew," Embekah conceded, glancing up into his eyes, her hatred melting into a vulnerability she had not expected in that instant.

"What's that?"

"I should've paid better attention to my past."

"I suggested that..."

Softly, Embekah shushed him. "The point is that I'm going to die even though I've already atoned for my mistakes."

Patrew stood in silence for a moment, a slow shift of his brow the only detectable movement. "Well, your past was bound to catch you, wasn't it?"

"Don't sound so giddy about it," Embekah remarked, the knight's smirk drawing her ire. "Maybe I did make a mistake trying to run from my past..."

"Maybe?" Patrew blurted out.

"But," Embekah went on, undeterred by the other's snarky tone, "it was my mistake to make. I'm sorry if I fall short of your expectations. At least you and Tarbra can return to your lives once my blood stops flowing and my bones are ground to dust."

Patrew stroked his bead. "Curious. Why do you say this?"

"Because you've brought this up to me time and again," Embekah said, moaning. A pain emerged in her temple, draining her of both patience and strength. "You've never let me forget it, even when we grew closer together."

"Are you so certain that your demise is imminent? I do believe you still need incarceration for your treason, but come on. To think you're going to die is pure drama!"

Embekah blinked. "Rotten Flesh told me to expect death by the first of spring. Judging by the sun's return, my end is nigh."

"If you say so," replied Patrew with a strong rush of indifference.

Embekah felt her inner walls ready to crack. Instead, she smiled at Patrew.

"You're absolutely right, my dear knight. I've simply let myself get carried away with theatrics. I should look at this from a more objective view. So what if I've been slated for death? I should appreciate what I still have, right?"

Patrew's eyes widened slightly. Had he not been expecting her to agree with him after all this time?

"You're bluffing, Embekah. After all of your pigheadedness, there's no way you'd change your tone that soon."

Embekah didn't let his words faze her. "I think all this captivity has swallowed my wits whole. I'm sorry for making such silly claims."

"I see." Patrew nodded, apparently appeased by her apology. "Being stuck in this house for a year with no hope of ever seeing the world beyond again can certainly crush a person's spirit."

"I was just being paranoid," Embekah agreed, quietly balking at such an implication. "Although, how can I be so sure anyone beyond these walls would call for my destruction?"

Patrew sighed. "You know this is a fine waste of my time. People crave justice. What you and that thieves' guild did back then was appalling."

"I know," Embekah lied. "We never should have committed all those crimes. That last one certainly had the kingdom discussing it for years."

Patrew eyed her with suspicion before giving her a valid response. "How can you be so certain it was the last one that I came after you for?"

"Who knows? All I thought I did wrong was choosing my friends poorly back then." Embekah grimaced. "Clearly, I've done far worse than that."

"Sometimes desperation clouds our judgment and renders us all fools."

Embekah thought she'd heard a slight implication in his words, like perhaps he regretted his zealous chase of her. Was that why he hadn't just slit her throat and be done with it all?

"I trust you'll punish Tarbra and any other guild thief accordingly?"

Patrew nodded. "They will all face justice accordingly."

"Excellent!" In her heart, Embekah scoffed at the notion. "Will they die horrible deaths like mine?"

"Will you kindly drop it with this idea that you're about to be killed? The only thing that'll end the barrier's life is for you to admit you're a criminal."

"I can't do that. Just because you're obsessed with seeing me brought to trial, it doesn't mean anyone else cares. Tarbra has said it herself how no one thinks anything of me, or you for that matter."

"You've inflicted great shame upon the kingdom," Patrew told her flatly. "No matter how anyone else feels of this, you need to pay."

"Oh, please." Embekah clenched her fists. "There're scoundrels out there who've wronged Trava far worse than I, yet I'm the only one you've set your eyes on?"

Patrew spun around towards the entry, grumbling to himself. He made to the threshold, and then froze. Were her comments finally reaching him?

"I had a duty to my kingdom, my lady."

"Stop it already! You've never been a knight. You're just an opportunistic mage who only came after me because I was an easy mark to you, a way for you to ascend to a glory which you couldn't even attain through pathetic hexes."

He shot back toward her, his eyes sparkling with rage. Halfway there, he gave another hesitation, the muscles in his face unclenching. He couldn't argue with the truth any more than she could flee from her past.

Such a pity, Embekah thought, that this honesty was laced with the prospect of her fatality. And a greater shame that she'd nearly fallen for the guy, despite knowing better.

"I'm sorry," he admitted, his head tilted back, a heavy breath rising into the air from him.

"Well, it's a start, but you're still holding back. Why come after me in particular, Patrew? If you had your pick of anyone who could've aided your ascension to greatness, why bother with a reclusive sorceress?"

Lowering his gaze back toward her, his cheeks paled, as though he'd just watch the most important person in his life die right in front of him. "I wish I could say."

Why did she even trouble herself at all, hoping for him to let go of that last little piece he fought to protect?

Patrew scowled. "You have to know that nothing of what I've done here is personal. I just did what I felt was best, given the circumstances."

Embekah found this last bit especially disconcerting. Why would he have troubled himself to claim that it wasn't a personal matter, unless it really was? "Sounds like you're not so fond of some of your choices, either."

"Indeed."

"Well, if it makes you feel better," she said, falsely offering him comforting words, "at least your decisions won't likely get you killed."

She felt Patrew's eyes watching her as she unraveled her sheets to climb into bed.

"Do me a favor," he begged. "Please stop thinking that way. I truly mean you no harm, even if you won't confess your crimes."

Embekah pulled her blanket around her backside, wrapping herself snugger underneath the cover. "Good night, Patrew."

Patrew frowned, his glazy eyes glimmering disappointment, like he hadn't gotten exactly what he wanted. He bowed once before taking leave of her chamber. Embekah eyed his departure, then flicked her hand and bolted the entry with her sorcery.

The conversation had been enlightening in more ways than she'd ever dreamed. Where Embekah hadn't given a damn about public opinion, Patrew thirsted for it. Was the desire to be a hero in the kingdom's eyes so strong it could compel him to kill?

CHAPTER 19

VERNAL INFERNO

(Day 181, Year of the Toad)

The next morning found Embekah back to plotting her survival. Somehow she'd gotten a good night's sleep. It had helped that she'd called him out on his claptrap the night before. But with Rotten Flesh's assist, he'd certainly come after her again, despite his contrary claims.

Slumber had offered her the crystal clarity she needed to push onward toward her goal. Though she had done her best to throw Patrew off her trail, the fact remained that she couldn't always succeed in keeping secrets from him. For all she knew, he may have already realized what she knew and was up to.

She took an unused scroll to list ways she could trap Patrew. Her own version of the Obfuscatos spell seemed a good place to start at first.

But if she dared attempt this enchantment, he'd become aware of her scheme. After all, she still had his spell book in her possession. The very idea that he'd carried such an artifact on him, and that he'd been found out to be a mage, made her all but regurgitate her latest flask of cider.

No, she had to try something else. It would have been nice if Embekah could have engaged Tarbra in conversation.

Unfortunately, Patrew had taken on the innkeeper's recovery as his own little side project. With his level of wizardry, the chances that Tarbra wouldn't betray any confidence to Patrew were few.

Not doing a thing about the food factor remained a solid strategy. Even Patrew could not deny the need to replenish the pantry. If he were smart about it, he'd lower that shield at a time most convenient for him. Embekah had her supply of breads and preserves to tide her over for a few days. In fact, she had everything she needed to live as close to luxury as possible.

She took to reading Patrew's book again, seeing if maybe there was a spell in there that she could handle at her skill level. Funny how a seemingly magic-phobic man could have accomplished the one thing she'd dreamt of her whole life without truly being deserving of it.

Dismissing the thought from her mind, an answer came to her. Every spell she owned paled in contrast to everything in the tome in her hands. Unless he had memorized its contents, Embekah now held the magical advantage. After all, a man preoccupied with public image wouldn't squander time on studying. A smirk crawled across her face upon this insight.

Of course, she mightn't be able to control any hex she cast from his collection. Patrew was the stronger mage in his own right, but that didn't necessarily make him any smarter. He must have believed himself to be precisely that, though. Why else hadn't he come clean about the Obfuscatos invocation?

She finished off a piece of bread with wild berry preserves slathered across one side, and then glanced toward the door. One of her spells, if performed carefully, had the potential to overthrow possibly even the Obfuscatos jinx. She'd have to muse on that one some.

First, however, a thought remained that kept her from fully concentrating solely on her survival. It fell back on how Patrew had insisted his pursuit of Embekah hadn't been personal. Maybe Embekah's involvement in the guild was just a front for what he'd really sought her out for. Could it be he was just hiding behind the excuse of honoring his father?

Embekah flung her hand at the door, dispelling the barrier charm she had cast upon it last night. No sooner had she done this than she received another knock at the door. Before she answered, Tarbra tore into the chamber without invite.

"Excuse me, Tarbra, but have you considered knocking first?"

A numb expression glazed over Tarbra's whole face, as if someone told her the Z'lymor had been reduced to ashes. The innkeeper gingerly stroked her cheek, a distinct lack of glimmer in her eyes. It took several moments for the color to return to her face.

"I'm so sorry, Embekah," Tarbra whispered as a wave of tears overwhelmed her.

Any frustration Embekah might've felt over the innkeeper's barging in evaporated at once. Embekah rushed over to her friend, wrapping an arm around her. As though on cue, Tarbra buried her face in Embekah's shoulder.

"I've made such a blunder, Em." Tarbra sniffled.

Embekah kind of wished she had wrapped a cloak around her body before she'd broken the charm on the entry. "Talk to me, Tar. Tell me what's wrong."

Pulling out of the embrace, Tarbra took two steps backward. Her hands rubbed against her belly in a circular motion. "I'm with child," she announced, the lines on her chin stretched almost to their limit.

Embekah bit her lip, unsure of what to say. Apparently Patrew and Tarbra had gotten much closer than Embekah had ever credited them for. But even pregnancy was a bit much for those two. The way Tarbra had slipped into catatonia during her last conversation with Embekah had driven anything of a romantic connection between Tarbra and Patrew far from Embekah's mind.

"Am I to take it you didn't plan on this?" Embekah worded her question carefully, tuning into Tarbra for the slightest trace of duplicity. Such a matter would not go over well in light of what'd happened twenty years ago. Losing a child under such mysterious circumstances remained a sore subject, much to Embekah's surprise.

For the first time in a year, she finally got why people held grudges.

"I wasn't even expecting to fall in love with the man, let alone become the mother of his offspring."

Embekah sensed she already knew the answer to her next question, but by the same token also couldn't fend off the compulsion to ask it anyhow.

"When did this happen?"

Tar's bloodshot eyes immediately pleaded Embekah for understanding. "The night I had awakened from my catatonia, two days after my arrival in your home."

It made perfect sense. Patrew had probably offered to share his room with Tarbra once she'd come to terms with their imprisonment. It was probably his one shot to discredit Embekah in Tarbra's eyes by feeding the innkeeper all sorts of lies. If Tarbra only knew what the man was capable of...

"So what are you going to do?" Embekah earnestly cared to hear Tarbra's plan for this. The flicker of fear in Tarbra's face suggested that she alone bore the burden of this secret. Embekah began to suspect Patrew wasn't in the know at all.

Tarbra sobbed. "I can't very well carry this child to term. Patrew already avoids me any time I so much as hint at loving him."

Fire raged within Embekah's heart. The guy proved to be as much a coward as he was a liar. "If Patrew's a jerk about it, then you really don't need his love. You can still have the child all on your own, with or without his help."

Embekah knew what she spoke of. She strained her brain to recall any discernible memory of the warlock with whom she'd created life, the infant plucked from her arms after birth. The passage of time had eroded the recollection to where only an ambiguous mold of skin scarcely made a face.

"I never wanted this to happen. It just sort of did."

"Yes, a travesty for you, I'm sure," Embekah said, hoping that Tarbra didn't misinterpret the comment as callous.

Tarbra sniffled so hard it was a wonder the woman didn't choke on her own mucus. "I'm too old for this," Tar went on, as if prodding Embekah to tell her she could handle the task.

Embekah let an impatient sigh slip out from her lips. "What you need to do is talk to Patrew about this. You probably shouldn't even be discussing this with me until after Patrew knows the truth."

A mesh of disbelief and outrage marred Tarbra's face. "I thought I could come to you to discuss this matter. Apparently, I was wrong."

Embekah gnashed her teeth. Patrew had made her the bad one in a matter not concerning her. The last thing she wanted was for Tarbra to stop confiding in her again, but Embekah had so little patience for idiocy these days, especially as those days were severely numbered.

However, depending on what was to come of the pregnancy, Tarbra's life might be put at risk. Sometimes a body was built to handle gestation, sometimes not. The way Embekah had almost perished the night of her child's birth coaxed a gentler conduct of the situation.

"I didn't mean to upset you," Embekah said, reaching out to comfort her on-again, off-again friend.

She waited until Tarbra tackled her in a hug, tears in free fall staining Embekah's shoulders. She grimaced for a second as Tarbra's grip strained her rib cage. But as the embrace maintained, the sorceress found her indifference oozing away.

"I'm so sorry, Tarbra."

Embekah meant it.

#####

After consoling Tarbra to where the innkeeper could sit down and discuss matters with Patrew, Embekah returned to her chamber, ready to further outline surviving her looming doom.

Outside her bedroom window, she noticed a steady breeze kicking around pink blossom petals in the air. The snow had melted in parts, forming pools of water. Blades of grass towered over the snowpack yet to liquefy. Two robins fluttered past, swirling about in loops and chasing each other in avian fancy. Her heart stopped at the very sight of this thaw.

Spring had arrived.

Her legs buckling underneath her, Embekah crashed against her bed. It was all over. She had dreaded the approach of this season like none other. Although she'd made every attempt to remove danger Rotten Flesh posed, it hadn't been enough.

She'd failed.

No, Tarbra, pregnancy isn't the end of the world for you, she thought bitterly, pressing her teeth down on her tongue. What did she really know, after all? It wasn't as though she'd gotten that chance to be a mother. At least Tarbra's baby would have its mom.

While its father, on the other hand, would be a murderer.

She looked out her window again. A droplet of moisture ran down her skin. Had mist from the gray skies dabbed her? The way the liquid burned against her flesh and tasted of salt sent a shudder through Embekah.No. She wouldn't give up like this. She still had fight left within her. If Patrew wanted to finish this, she'd certainly oblige him. Not by lying down, as the knight/mage had probably hoped. If he wanted his glory, he'd have to come with his fists flying.

She tore out of her room, her hands aglow in flames. Her stride lengthened as she grew closer to Patrew's chamber. In another second, she'd unleash her fiery wrath upon he who deserved it most. Then she'd put this whole past year behind her forevermore.

Lacing the air with the words of a dark incantation, she channeled a great mystical force to throw open Patrew's door. Fury flooded her every sense as she levitated slightly above the floor, toes dangling, flames consuming her whole form.

"Confront me, you coward!" Embekah ignored the strain her uproar placed upon her larynx. "I know you created Rotten Flesh. I know you've intended to kill me this whole time. How ugly your true colors are!"

Embekah stormed the chamber for the most manipulative man she'd ever met, only to have his unexpected absence greet her. Of course! Why hadn't she foreseen it? Patrew wouldn't have made himself a sitting target. If he really was as powerful as purported, he would have sensed Embekah's outburst as a great disruption to the smooth, gentle flow of the mystical currents in her manor.

Defeated only temporarily, Embekah unleashed a yowl into the air. She couldn't take another moment of this. He had to be somewhere in the house, unless of course he had taken the barrier down without her knowledge.

She froze abruptly. That's it! He must have gone outside in search of food. She dashed out of the room in a huff.

"Patrew! Show yourself. I'm done with you," she called out in the corridor, searching every passageway and room she came upon. Still no answer. Recklessly, she flung her arms in the air. A wave of flames nearly set a nearby set of drapes ablaze. Embekah extinguished her sizzling layer with a thought. Given how she couldn't very well get out of the manor safely, fire probably wasn't the best element to incant.

"Patrew," she screamed his name a third time, only to be ignored thrice now.

Where the devil was he?

A cursory glance into every chamber on the main level of the manor revealed no sign of him, or Tarbra for that matter. It made sense. If Tarbra really were having Patrew's child, the couple would need a moment of privacy for themselves.

Well, forget that. Embekah couldn't permit Patrew to get away with ruining the sorceress's life over the past year. With death following closely behind the vernal equinox, Embekah had to save herself.

How was it that he'd gotten her to trust him? Shouldn't she have seen the warning signs? Had there been any at all? Embekah threw her fist against the wall, choking back a sob. The man's charisma had bested her. Even if he hadn't revealed himself as a sorcerer, he'd still charmed her with a spell of sorts. Had she just stuck to her instinct, the liar would've never penetrated her heart.

Oh, well. She had trusted people in the past. Like Patrew, they had also betrayed her. If she were to survive, she couldn't trust anyone.

Her soul panged for a moment over this. Misgivings had led her to a solitary life. If she maintained these ways, would she never find happiness? It wasn't exactly fair that Patrew and Tarbra could bear children, while Embekah did without.

Embekah would've made a great mother, too. After all, she'd prepared to record her child's milestone moments. Now, the book served as her only remembrance of her offspring, a single page torn from its spine. Maybe Patrew knew something about that, too.

She spun around, passing by an open window. Someone in a cloak stood out on the field, perhaps a wayward traveler, but more than likely it was Patrew, who had probably gotten word by now that Tarbra was expecting his child. The knightly mage must've then lifted the spell over so he could wander outside to privately contend with the implications of becoming a father.

Or it might've been the Obfuscatos hex. Rotten Flesh had morphed into different disguises numerous times already. It wouldn't surprise the sorceress one bit to find Patrew's caught in a loop of redundancy. Perhaps fatherhood threw Patrew off his game, leaving him to rely heavily on the spells he'd mastered.

Embekah wasted no time at all. She marched to the front door, each stomp louder than the last. This would be it. Never again would she let that man or his tricks dictate the terms of her life. She'd reclaim everything. And the most severe measures were no longer fully out of the question.

A rapping against the other side of her door met her as she grabbed the knob. Apparently, this couldn't have been Patrew, for his magic gave him the key to her abode. This left only one alternative.

The second she opened the door, the figure in the dark robe snatched her arm and yanked her across to the outside world, its face shrouded like the specter of death. Patrew had dissolved the barrier after all.

Embekah didn't know what shocked her more, the fact that something grabbed her so abruptly, or that she'd been freed from the imprisonment of her own home after far too long. Delight temporarily drowned out her apprehension. Her faith that she might someday find a release from the binding spell had faded long ago, the inner flame of hope burnt out long ago.

Until now, she thought.

The wanderer cast off his cloak, revealing himself as Rotten Flesh, just like she had thought.

"Something the matter?" the fiend asked with a dark chuckle.

Embekah snapped herself free from gawking at him. Her fists opened up while she chanted several undecipherable phrases all at once. Wriggling her fingers, she cast a cornucopia of multi-colored energies, varying in degree of intensity. One of the cobalt waves whipped at the hexed spirit, snared him by the ankle, and flung him throughout the air, keeping him high off the ground.

She didn't stop there, either. Another spell forced the earth underneath them to tremble. The surface cracked in two, causing trees and bushes to crumble into the newly formed crevasse. Jagged rocks rose out of the ground along the edges of the rift, their edges more finely toned than a wolf's fangs.

"Don't make me hurt you," Embekah snarled, her blood nearly filled to capacity with blistering hate.

"You scarcely have the resources powerful enough to abate mine," said Rotten Flesh. He let another howl from the cavern of his maw, making the wind seem cold enough to make the winter return, despite the warmth of the springtime sun.

"Argh! Is that your idea of slaying me? Endless prattle?" cried Embekah.

"All things in due time."

"There is nothing due at all about my demise." Embekah forced a tighter squeeze from the binds around her foe.

The skull-faced entity shrugged. "Then I assume you've unlocked the secret of immortality?"

Embekah commanded an even stronger wheeze out of him, the hold this time turning his skin into a putrid purple. "Not yet, I'm afraid."

"So therefore it pleases me to announce that I have answers you seek."

Calling his bluff seemed the only course of action for her. "I don't need answers."

"We all need answers, Embekah Mare. Even I cannot deny the lure of knowledge. To seek refuge from the torment of ignorance is a crusade I cannot deny."

Embekah crossed her arms. "I highly doubt it."

"Whether you believe me or not bears no consequence with me."

The sorceress supplemented her blasts with more enchantments. Strain from her efforts infected every inch of her form, a burden she could ill afford much longer. With no one but herself to rely on, Embekah had no option but to keep going, even if doing so destroyed her in the end.

"You do put up a fair struggle, almost worthy of my amusement," said Rotten Flesh with a nasty grin.

"I'm not here to amuse you. I don't even know how I managed to escape from the spell around my manor, but I'm certain it had nothing to do with entertainment."

Rotten Flesh sighed. "Isn't it obvious? I made it all happen!"

"I don't believe you."

"Embekah," Tarbra called from behind her. "How did you get outside?"

The sorceress spun about, her foe snickering as her attention left him. The fact that Tarbra was still inside the manor gnawed away at the sorceress. The innkeeper's face contorted in a mesh of betrayal, disgust, and fury. Embekah sputtered at Tarbra's glare.

"I see now this was but a trick after all!" her old friend shouted, vanishing from the window a moment after.

A gale slapped Embekah in her face. In her ear Rotten Flesh whispered, "What a mess we weave, eh?"

CHAPTER 20

ADRIFT

Catching her breath, Embekah fought off a wave of vertigo tempting her to crumble to the ground in a bodily heap. Dreaming of freedom for the past several months, Embekah now had it, but did its sweetness have to be so bitter?

She stared at the manor whose roof and walls still enclosed Tarbra. The fact that Embekah could still recognize the surface of her home surprised her. Almost a year of her life lost to that place. Although her belongings were inside, Embekah felt no desire to go back in anytime soon.

Embekah spun back around to face Rotten Flesh, only to find that it had taken the opportunity to break her binds and flee the immediate vicinity. Muttering under her breath, she found herself at a loss of what next to do.

The sun hung overhead, probably somewhere near the midday focal point. There might have been enough light left in the day for her to travel to Trava Town, provided that she didn't stop to rest even once. She could go there and set the record straight on what had happened throughout the past months.

Conversely, silence of this past year might bode better for Tarbra. If Patrew ever found out that Embekah snitched on his ill doings, there was no telling what he'd do to Tarbra or his unborn child.

Embekah surveyed the terrain around her. She couldn't shake the feeling that this was all surreal, that her escape from her months-long prison had finally come to an end. Despite the lack of a discernible trail, the path to freedom never seemed clearer to her.

Yet she couldn't just take off. She felt no obligation to stick around Patrew. However, the spell book Patrew had used to craft that robust barrier hex remained a key concern. No matter where Embekah went in the kingdom, if Patrew still decided he wanted her dead, he'd find a way.

She had to make sure he would never get the chance to use that book again. She drew in a breath of air, appreciated this moment in which she stood outside the walls of confinement, and then faced the manor once more. Channeling every bit of courage she could foster, she charged toward the manor. She came within reach of her front door when a familiar energy crackled through the air, preventing her fingers from reaching the knob.

"What gives?"

"Eager to return so soon?" Rotten Flesh laughed at her from behind. "I would've believed you happier to be on the outside of this place after spending so much time confined inside."

Embekah couldn't deal with this right now. She had to get back in there somehow, prevent Patrew from finishing Tarbra off with one of his masterful spells. Unfortunately, with the Rotten Flesh/Obfuscatos and barrier curses blocking Embekah, the chances of stopping the lying mage seemed slim.

"This is my home. I'm not letting go of it without a fight," Embekah said, making up what she hoped was a believable claim to Rotten Flesh. She couldn't very well take the chance that Rotten Flesh might learn her true intentions.

She looked in Rotten Flesh's direction, only to find that her tormentor was gone once more.

Blocked from entering her home for the moment, Embekah trekked onward, back toward Trava Town. Her sense of direction became off kilter for a second or two as she stumbled toward a clearing in the patch of thorny shrubs. The sun above her provided the only clue toward direction, somewhat aiding her journey.

Embekah ascended a hill. As she glanced quickly over her shoulder she found that the pocket of forest had grown a little over the course of the previous year. A slight fog had developed in the past short while, denying Embekah a glimpse of the manor. She considered prodding on, but then rooted herself in place, a third option occurring to her.

She kept a watchful eye on the sun as it descended toward the western horizon. Dusk wasn't far off now. Soon nocturnal creatures would skulk about the woods, preying on any decent-sized morsel from which they could make a meal.

Embekah sped homeward. Retracing her steps back down the hill, she approached the commandeered dwelling. Her instinct for self-preservation made her increase her pace. She'd bust down that door if she had to. The only thing which possibly hindered her was whether Patrew had improved upon the original barrier enchantment.

She extended her fingers the instant she reached the main entry, her digits unable to penetrate the barrier blocking them from the lever. She'd expected it this time, seeing as how Patrew was probably safe inside the house for the night and had no reason to lower the shield.

A quick survey of her surroundings provided no indication of Rotten Flesh in her immediate area. Perhaps the fiend had finally found other things to do besides hassle her. Still, she couldn't rule out the possibility that he may have set another trap for her.

Sensing no immediate danger, she crouched closer to the ground, visualizing the form she would need to take in order to make this performance work. What she needed was a body thin as parchment, an animal form able to pass underneath the door crack, not easily grasped. The ideal creature came to her. A single word exploding through her lips brought on another round of mage-morphing. As someone unaccustomed to the form, she sure felt comfortable wearing the skin of a snake for a disguise.

Moments later, she found herself slithering along the ground, the soil still cold from winter's lingering nightly echo. She advanced toward the gap underneath the door, fierce resolve pushing her on. Nothing collided with her head as she regained access to her abode.

Why hadn't she thought of that earlier? Had she really believed she wouldn't have been able to escape certain death? Halscrad had shown her the way, but she'd gotten caught up in not squandering resources or running from her problems to realize this.

She glided across the floor for a little while, until she spotted the ideal corner for reverting to her normal size and shape. Blending in with the shade, she retook her original form in another breath.

The house remained silent, a weak light wavering in the distance. Still ridden with fury and disoriented from her serpentine minutes, Embekah couldn't determine from what room the light came. She crept closer toward it, praying the creaky floorboard wouldn't betray her ascent.

What she found made her wish she had never come back inside the house at all. The source of the light came from her bedroom. Inside she discovered Patrew and Tarbra rifling through her drawers, tossing clothes all about the room and dumping out amulets and bracelets without regard for her privacy.

"Excuse me, but who said you could come in here?" she asked.

Patrew froze where he stood, but Tarbra kept on sorting through Embekah's armoire, recklessly ripping the fabric of a delicate peacock-black silk gown Embekah's grandmother had passed down to her long ago.

"A book of mine has gone missing," Patrew explained, "and I have reason to believe you may have taken it."

Working her way past Tarbra's deliberate destruction of the family heirloom she cared most about, Embekah set a foot inside the chamber. Careful not to let her gaze drift to where she had stashed the book, between the end table and her bed, Embekah fought off Patrew's indirect accusation with a simple shrug.

"I only keep my books on a shelf in the basement, Patrew. You know this."

"I checked. It wasn't there," he said, a fit of irritation rising in his pitch.

Thinking of how she could turn this situation to her advantage, Embekah took a casual step further into the chamber. A possible scenario played out in her mind. She'd amble over to Patrew and offer him a hug right in front of Tarbra. With Tarbra allegedly in a precarious condition, the slightest thing might set the innkeeper off. It'd serve Tarbra right to have her world thrown into the same kind of chaos as Embekah's slumbering chamber. And an expecting woman set in histrionics could keep Patrew off kilter.

Of course, it'd happen if Tarbra's pregnancy held any truth to it.

Only one way to find out, Embekah thought.

Licking her lips, she sashayed toward the knight mage. Not an easy thing to do considering she was still reeling from performing two mage-morph spells within the frame of an hour. Patrew's eyes flew open at once in response to this, his jaw slipping slightly toward the ground.

"What is the meaning of this manner, Embekah?" Patrew said.

Embekah brushed her bosom against his. "I've been awfully lonely for some time now, Patrew," she cooed, keeping Tarbra in the line of her side vision. "I was wondering if you'd be willing to keep me company for a while."

The perspiration forming on the man's brow proved authentic enough for her. Grinning hungrily, she then pretended to catch herself by drawing her fist to her mouth. A light nibble on her knuckles further served as bait she hoped he would take.

"Embekah, what has gotten into you?" Patrew lowered his voice immediately. He cocked his head in Tarbra's direction, all while carrying the look of someone caught in a compromising situation.

Embekah snatched both of his arms, pressing her form upon his, drawing her lips closer to their intended target. "Like I said, I have this sudden need for company. It's been too long since I got out to Trava Town, wouldn't you agree? I don't know if I'll be able to withhold my needs another instant!"

"Excuse me?" Tarbra gasped. "Did I just hear you correctly, Embekah?"

The innkeeper's search through the armoire had slowed to a crawl, but so far Tarbra hadn't withdrawn from the chest altogether. Embekah took this to mean that the issue required further pressing, make it known that she was tired of Patrew's stupid games. If he wanted an all-out war, she'd give him one.

With that, her lips found purchase against Patrew for the second time since he came into her life. She squealed her delight as loudly as possible, not an easy feat as her silky skin meshed with the chapped, cracked lips of a non-warrior.

"Ooh," she said, pulling away only to gaze right into his eyes, his thread of saliva an indication that he was too mesmerized by this moment to stop her. "You do handle me the way a warrior should, Patrew. I can feel the strength coursing through your veins just by the way you hold my hand."

This got the reaction she needed from Tarbra. The innkeeper reeled her head out of the closet, and then unleashed a gale-shaming shriek.

"What do you think you're doing, Patrew?" Tarbra charged at him with her fists held high, seemingly ready to hurl them into either Embekah or Patrew, whichever one didn't block her fast enough.

"Tarbra!" cried Patrew.

Unable to stop him, Embekah watched as Patrew tore away from her, alert once more. He wiped off the corners of his mouth, drool now sticking to the back of his hand.

"I'm so sorry, my love," he said, facing Tarbra, a nasty side glare briefly directed at Embekah. "I didn't mean to..."

"Didn't mean to what?" demanded Tarbra. "Fall into her lips?"

Patrew's face lost all color in the second before he buried it in his shoulder, trying to muffle the gasps still rising from his lungs.

"You know, Tarbra," Embekah said coolly. "It's not as though you gave me much option. I've been with Patrew well before you ever came into the picture. Quite frankly, kissing him was the thing furthest from my mind. I would have survived the whole rest of my life to have never been put in that awkward position again."

"You've no excuse for this, Embekah," Tarbra said, a spark of fight igniting in her eyes. "I was your friend. I'm pregnant with Patrew's child. Surely you as a mother might understand my need to keep my child's father in our lives for as however long is possible."

Embekah listened intently to every word the innkeeper spewed, smiling despite herself. The very mention of Embekah's long-lost motherhood was not lost upon the sorceress. Why would Tarbra bring that up in the heat of the moment, when really the main concern should've been Embekah throwing herself at Patrew?

"What can I say? Patrew's charm has me all giddy inside. Why, just gobbling up his biceps with my eyes is enough to make me tingle," Embekah said, stroking his beard until the knight mage pulled back again. "It's so hard for me to deny myself the pleasure of his company."

"What are you prattling on about, Embekah?" Patrew sidestepped her to join Tarbra on the far side of Embekah's bed.

Did he really think Tarbra was going to offer him protection at present?

Embekah's smirk didn't falter. "I'm speaking of the night we spent together not so long ago, Patrew. You were in your room. I came in seeking sanctuary in your arms. You were only all too willing to give it."

Tarbra screamed. "How could you do this to me, Patrew?"

Patrew stammered for an answer, coming up short in procuring one. He glanced back at Embekah, the lines on his face contorted with ire.

"Tarbra, to be fair we were together well before you ever showed up here," Embekah said, shooting Patrew a quick glare of how he ought to thank her for rescuing him. "He spoke of affection only for you. There will always be a special spot for him in my heart, but it's you he clearly wants."

She extracted herself from the conversation by quietly tending to the artifacts the others had tossed about in their quest to find Patrew's book. She made her effort look innocuous enough so that neither realized she didn't want them to locate that spell book. Noticing her nightgown dangling on the side of her bed, she grabbed at it. The clothing slipped between her fingers, drifting onto the floor right in front of the end table underneath which the tome lay. She stood upright again, hoping her little act went unnoticed.

"We really need to talk, Patrew," Tarbra barked at the knight mage. She furled her fingers around his wrist and charged out of the room, lugging him behind her in a furious stride.

Embekah looked toward the door, watched Patrew's backside disappear from view, and blew both connivers a mock kiss. Before she went forth with tidying up the mess they'd made, she secured her door with several defense vexes, allowing her to open the entry whenever she pleased but refusing the other two access to her chamber ever again.

Then she fell onto her bed and buried her face in her pillow, her belly shaking as she cut loose with a laugh that went on for nearly a good chunk of the afternoon.

#####

Some time later, Embekah lay up in bed, studying the ceiling in a lackadaisical fashion. The humor she found in Patrew's present situation with Tarbra had released some of the stress that'd festered for some time. Honestly, Embekah couldn't recall the last time she'd felt such a release. Could it have been at least twenty years?

Once the dust of absurdity settled, Embekah found herself needing an extra layer to fend off another stubborn chill. Something about finding the two of them together, combing through her personal belongings in the one room neither should've penetrated, really troubled her.

It didn't help that Tarbra's accusation against Patrew didn't lose its punch after Embekah had stepped in for him. Things between the liar and the innkeeper didn't add up. She thought back to the time in the inn when she'd tried to evade Patrew's vigilant hunt. Tarbra had spoken to Patrew without much restraint when he'd approached them. Was there more to it, though?

Her thoughts shifted to Patrew's reasons for coming after her. He had claimed her to be a threat to all that was right in the kingdom. He'd taken jabs at her for the loss of her child, and for her involvement in the thieves' guild.

Yet through it all, he remained but one thing: unconvincing. He'd made all sorts of claims, most of which didn't really help his argument any. Even his assertion that he wouldn't release his hold on the manor until she came quietly with him proved suspect.

She rolled onto her side. If Patrew was so unconvincing, was it because he had orders not to destroy Embekah? Was that it? It could've been that Tarbra had told Patrew to chase after the sorceress, but not to bring her any harm. If that were so, it explained an awful lot. Patrew really wasn't working for the kingdom after all, but for the innkeeper. Why, though?

She removed her night robe from where it lay on the floor, then reached underneath the table and pulled the book up onto her bed. Randomly flipping through the pages, she glanced at the enchantments featured in the book. It wasn't until she got to the end flap that her interest perked up.

"What's this?" she asked, noting tiny scrawl around the lower third of the back cover. "'To my precious Tarbra, I hope this gift tides you over until I return from duty. I had filched it in battle, though it is magic more suited for your masterful level than my simple dabbles.'"

Shock paralyzed her every muscle. For a while Embekah couldn't budge, her brain nearly obliterated by what she'd just read. Judging by the yellowed parchment, likely stained by both weather and—more importantly—time, this book had been in the schemers' possession for some while.

There it was. The blasted truth of it all! Tarbra was the one with the lust to render Embekah dead, not Patrew. Patrew had merely followed orders all along, just like the good little puppet his daddy had raised him to be.

She shot up out of bed, charging towards the next room. Just before opening the door, she paused, giving herself the chance to collect herself before storming out there and confronting her enemies.

"So much for old friends," Embekah muttered, now accepting why Tarbra's frustration with Patrew had sounded rather genuine. The couple must've cultivated their relationship over the span of years, if not decades.

Yet Patrew appeared to be much younger than Tarbra. Granted, the king had permitted Patrew to enlist in the Royal Army at an early age. Maybe Patrew had learned a spell that could let him retain his youthfulness a while longer.

But why had Tarbra barked those orders at Patrew? Why have Patrew contain Embekah in the house at all, unless Tarbra wanted to kill the sorceress herself? But why would such a wish lurk in the darkest regions of Tarbra's heart? Had Embekah been that awful of a friend back then?

Or, what if Tarbra Relsh hadn't retired from sorcery at all, but instead had secretly conspired to raise her game to where no one in the kingdom could rival hers?

Embekah's heart skipped a beat. This had to be it. Tarbra had to still be deeply involved in the mystical arts, while purporting to everyone around her that she'd hung up her cauldron for good. Why the charade, though? Why not let the kingdom know she was still a practicing mage? There were, after all, mages who worked under the direction of the king. Patrew was certainly proof of that, even though his true alliance remained to the innkeeper.

Was Tarbra intent on conquering the kingdom little by little? No, despite their association with the thieves' guild, Embekah had not seen a single hint of political ambition in Tarbra. The motive behind Tarbra's actions had to be something else that Embekah hadn't put her finger on yet.

Without knowing the reason, any attempt to go after Tarbra and Patrew would only result in disappointment. They'd just lie to her face once again. She needed absolute evidence that neither could refute. But how to come of it? Both had covered their tracks rather well.

Or had they? Another nagging feeling surrounded her heart, clenching it, squeezing it in such a painful way she believed she'd die. Of course, she'd lived through tragedy several times before. Provided that she stayed ahead of Tarbra and Patrew, this time shouldn't prove any different.

Was that it? Was there a specific trauma in Embekah's past neither Patrew nor Tarbra wished for her to associate them? It didn't seem likely that Tarbra's involvement with the guild would push them to such dire acts.

But they were involved, that much she at least knew. The only thing she didn't know was how best to approach this situation.

Embekah retreated to her bed, sitting down on the edge to give her feet a rest before she engaged the couple in what was likely to be the most dangerous conversation she would ever have.

For the next couple of hours, she made notes and calculations of everything she knew about her past, about Tarbra, and about Patrew. By doing this, she hoped to finally figure out what it was that she wasn't being told, that in her heart she should've recognized right away.

It couldn't have been the thieves' guild. Plenty of other members had left that dark society, only to go on without any repercussion or persecution whatsoever. And Embekah hadn't even earned any rank while serving the guild, alongside Tarbra.

Embekah leaned back against her pillow, casting a wayward gaze to the ceiling above. Lazily, she tossed her hand toward the end table, accidentally smacking a volume right off of it. Cursing her clumsiness, she slid to the edge of the bed, reaching down to pick up the book she had knocked off.

Her child's baby book. She'd forgotten it was even in here. This album remained the last connection she had to her long-lost infant. Despite Patrew's apparent, though never officially proven, desecration of the book, she retained a bond to her kin.

The fact that she had never proven Patrew's crime left a nasty feeling deep inside of her. Had he mistaken it for a spell book? Not likely, considering Embekah had only ever filled out the one page to that baby diary, the one page now strangely missing. And even if they tried to contradict her theory, the fact remained that Embekah had but one direction left to go to get the answer she needed most.

Not that she'd have admitted to Rotten Flesh how much she needed an answer right then and there.

Glancing down at her body, she snapped her fingers. The fabric she wore around her shifted to a metallic form. She pressed on until not only her outfit provided her with steely protection, but her skin as well. Though never having worn armor before in her life, and though it would drain her remaining resources, she had a battle to prepare for.

CHAPTER 21

IN THE LIARS' DEN

Before she confronted those scoundrels about what they knew about Embekah's most awful night of her life, Embekah made her way into the basement. What was it about that evening that would make those two go to such extremes to destroy her? She'd been in such writhing agony that she likely wouldn't have caught on to them.

But did that matter to them? Probably not, or else they wouldn't have sought her out, thrust themselves into her life so forcibly so, and come up with an incantation mocking her at every turn. Whatever secret they still withheld from her, it more than likely had to do with their self-interest, not hers.

She cringed at the thought. If only she'd been in the right frame of mind when she had given birth, all of this could've been avoided.

A cruel laugh escaped from her throat. She'd blamed herself too often for that moment these past two decades. In her own words she'd called Patrew out for being opportunistic, perhaps the first sign of the true Patrew she had ever seen.

And the dream she had back then, the one that resurfaced many times a month for the first few years until finally dwindling down to maybe once a year or less. It took her a moment to remember the visage with any remote clarity. She could smell the warmth of the night air; that much had stuck with her all this time. And she believed she heard a range of voices, varying in extent from muttering to shouting, with a dark cackle mixed in. She could even almost taste the bile in her own mouth to this day.

But the pain had almost set fire to every fiber in her being, so much so that it'd blinded her, refusing to let her see what was going on around her. The last thing she remembered seeing before passing out was the nursemaid standing over her, smiling, encouraging her to hang in there while she assisted with the deliver.

A nursemaid who had come from out of nowhere, she realized, a woman whose face she hadn't seen, even before the pain had robbed her of sight. But the apprehension Embekah felt had spoken something to her. Was it about delivering the baby? Maybe, but that didn't seem right. It had to do with the nursemaid herself...

But what it was, Embekah hadn't ever figured out. Embekah awakened a few days later, her memories of anything other than bodily pain and fatigue pretty much faded. A nursemaid tended to Embekah, a lady with a graying mane of jet-black hair and a portly figure. Had she taken care of Embekah during the delivery? The sorceress wasn't sure. The portly nursemaid spoke little about coming to be in Embekah's life, only briefly mentioning how she'd found Embekah near an alleyway, her cloak soaking in blood.

Presently, Embekah wished she could've thanked her mysterious caretaker at that moment. And she wished she knew where to turn to find the woman who'd first rescued her. All she had to go on was a vague description of moderate build, an average height, and a lock of copper hair drooping freely into the open from the first nursemaid's shroud...

She continued her descent into the cellar, wary of how the shadows seemed to follow her, watching her as though they themselves might offer a preemptive strike. She shrugged off the notion. What did it matter whether she died by way of her alleged friends, or from the paranoia now constricting her airways with its grip around her throat?

She listened to the lack of creaking her booted feet made against the steps, realizing that Patrew must have worked his magic again with yet another repair operation. She made it to the bottom, then glanced over her shoulder and sighed. All that Patrew had done since being "trapped" was only a farce.

The sound of footsteps came from up above, suggesting movement. Either one of those traitors was on the move, not that it really mattered to Embekah. She'd already figured out that they had conspired together. She didn't need to talk to either of them just yet.

At least, not until she prepared herself for what was still to come.

She reached a chest nearest her and yanked on the lid, making certain to withhold any use of magic until the time came. Bad enough she had already used some to transfigure her skin into a metallic exoskeleton of sorts. The cover cracked open with a groan, a dreadful ruckus that Embekah failed to silence swiftly enough. She flipped the chest open all the way, keeping a palm situated between the lid and the wall behind it. No need to arouse suspicion from either of them just yet.

Dust covered the contents inside. Embekah swept the thick layer of grime off with a hand, wishing she could just go upstairs right now to wipe her fingers clean. None of her belongings inside the trunk proved helpful in figuring out why those two had schemed in the first place.

A cruel whisper of remembrance seeped into the darker realms of her mind, the image of finding Patrew down here floating about her psyche. She'd caught Patrew down here on a crusade to uncover a part of her past she hadn't wanted him to reveal. She pinched her nose. Why couldn't she have seen all along that he already knew about the darkest day in her life?

Embekah stood up away from the chest and studied the rest of the chamber. Everything else looked untouched, just as it should've been.

Why, then, did she still feel she'd missed something?

Sifting through the remainder of the container, she came up empty-handed. Embekah then fastened its lid back in place. While she turned around to continue her search elsewhere, her foot kicked up a dislodged page, one of its edges appearing tattered. Embekah promptly gripped the sheet.

"'Woman who claims to have given birth near alleyway has no child to show for her labors, despite hearing her baby wailing for her.'" Embekah recited the announcement on the parchment, her eyes scanning each word at least thrice. "So I did know I had given birth. I had known and I had sought out my child. I must have turned to someone for help. Did the person who had found and taken care of me do this? They must have."

Her first accusation went straight to the portly nursemaid, whose wrinkled face carried the weight of a woman who'd seen more than her fair share of encounters with children. Somehow, a provider such as Embekah's attendant, who'd toiled to heal Embekah's wounds, wouldn't necessarily have the energy or the time to host a duplicitous heart, especially when her work remained almost continuous at times.

But the rescuer who'd been with the sorceress in the alley, the copper-haired woman...could she have done something? Was it possible that Tarbra had been with Embekah during the delivery?

Suddenly the darkest day of yesteryear came rushing back to her. The gales whipping torrential rain in her face, the crash of thunder drowning out her baby's screams, the flicker of lightning filling the air with a temporary radiance, enough for Embekah to spot two hooded figures in the alley, one of them wrapping his—or her—arms around the infant.

Two figures. Two liars. Two conspirators willing to slaughter Embekah for reasons previously unknown to the sorceress. Magic hadn't been the root cause of this, nor had Embekah's involvement in the guild, although that may have indirectly contributed to the problem.

Embekah's child had been plucked from her grip, stolen despite Embekah doing everything she could in her diluted condition to prevent this. She had fought for her baby, and lost...

Her blood reaching critical levels of hot, Embekah stormed the stairs with deadly intent in mind. She found Patrew finishing off a plate of chicken, and Tarbra, the undeserving mother of Patrew's offspring, sitting across from him nibbling some meat off a bone. In that instant Embekah figured out why Tarbra had even brought up the very mention of pregnancy to Embekah.

Blast it all. Why couldn't have Embekah have seen through the ever-so-thin veil of friendship that Tarbra, and much later Patrew, had put up?

Without uttering an incantation, without regard for her remaining magical strength, Embekah waved her fingers about, catching Patrew in an energy field, hurling him across the room. Tarbra gasped. Patrew landed face-first against the wall next to his lover, groaning as he collided with the floor beneath him.

Her eyes wide with terror, Tarbra leaped out of her seat. "Embekah!"

"You were a fool to come here," Embekah spat at the knight. "Both of you. I may have been stricken with grief on the evening I lost my child, but did you really expect me never to recall what you both did?"

Patrew staggered to his feet, wooden splinters sprinkling his lower lip, split open by the impact with the wall. "You're the criminal, Embekah, and a fool as well, always associating with the lowest forms of life."

Growling, Embekah deployed another burst of energy against him. This time Patrew was quick enough to evade her attack, resulting in the wall behind losing a chunk of its frame to the blast.

"Embekah, what has gotten into you?" Tarbra trembled at the sight of Embekah's rampage. Either the innkeeper thought Embekah's grudge was merely with Patrew because of how the spell of entrapment had originated, or Tarbra really had no idea that Embekah's outrage involved them both.

An oversight Embekah, drowning in the bowels of righteous fury, would soon see to correct.

"Only the lie which you never hoped I would figure out. Sure, Patrew claimed to be doing a service for the kingdom of Trava, but he knew full well his charges against me wouldn't stick. He wasn't even a real knight after all, just a little mage boy dressed up in a big man's armor."

Tarbra blinked. "Insults really don't help your case, Embekah."

"Do they help yours? I'm insulted by how the both Patrew and you abducted my child on the night of his birth!" Embekah could barely contain the ebb of animosity the schemers had earned.

"I did no such thing!" A sickly chartreuse filled Tarbra's face, making her cheeks look slightly puffier, like perhaps her stomach was about to have a bad reaction to the chicken that had maybe one or two nibbles left clinging to its bone.

"I'm certain you did. The missing page Patrew tore out of my book months ago confirms what I should've seen all along."

Embekah took another step toward Tarbra, while at the same time not letting her concentration fully leave Patrew. How could she live with these cretins all of these months, and not seen their tryst for what it really was?

"You're making this up, Embekah," Tarbra argued, a desperate little squeal meshed in with her otherwise level tone.

The sorceress scoffed at the notion. "Am I? Maybe I'm just delusional from the devastation of losing my only child. And if grief has consumed me, then you'd best prepare yourself for a whirlwind of agony."

Patrew snatched Embekah by the arm, yanking her away from Tarbra. Despite being the ultimate fraud, and the setbacks in his life, the glare in his eyes indicated he still had some fight left in him.

"If you think you know the truth about me," he spat, a dribble of blood trickling off his chin, "then by all means answer me this. What need would I have for your child?"

"I'd almost say you did it out of your fear of sorcery, except, oh wait, you're a mage! Ha. So if you didn't fear sorcery, then you surely had other motivation. Maybe taking someone else's child seemed the easier thing to do, rather than try and make one yourself.

"After all, if the kingdom ever found out about you siring a bastard child with a lowly innkeeper, your chances of ascending into the higher circles of the royal guard, even as a mage with manipulative jinxes, would never see daybreak."

Tarbra slapped her palms against her cheeks, her mouth hung open from the shock of Embekah's guess. In all likelihood Embekah's near perfect accuracy triggered this astonishment.

Having seen through their ploy, Embekah allowed herself a slight smirk. Now neither knight nor innkeeper could prevent Embekah from sharing the news of this ages-old travesty with the rest of the kingdom.

"You know nothing of our arrangement," Patrew foolishly shot back.

Vindication beat in Embekah's heart. "Thank you for that, Patrew. You just confirmed my suspicion."

Tarbra glowered at Patrew, who in turned hung his head in shame. The exchange between them reinforced Embekah's smile. A shame the sorceress couldn't enjoy this moment longer.

"I'm guessing you'd hoped I'd die after I gave birth to my child, which is probably why you left me for dead in or around that alley. You may have even believed me to have actually perished that night, because you didn't come after me immediately following this. And between the two of you, you also must've determined that Tarbra remain the inn keeper to prevent people from suspecting what you'd done."

"You're obviously suffering from having been stuck in your manor for so long," Patrew remarked in an obvious attempt to dissuade Embekah from unraveling what little truth she hadn't already gotten to.

Embekah sneered. "Your denial is all the proof I need to know that I'm right. Your plans would've gone off without a hitch if that portly nursemaid hadn't found me and raised me back to health."

"Leave him be, Embekah. This wasn't really his fault. Our tryst began long before you were ever to give birth." Tarbra groaned, rubbing the back of her head.

Embekah could hardly bring herself to acknowledge Tarbra. The thought that her long-time friend had been the perpetrator of this charade years ago proved the final wedge needed to obliterate what little friendship they once maintained.

"I turned to you after losing my child, and all you ever did was lie?" The words sounded strange even as she spoke them. The one person she had confided in all of her life, and now she had to finally admit Tarbra wasn't who Embekah thought she was. "Tarbra, how could you do this to me?"

"You declared your child a travesty of the worst design. You lamented over how motherhood would burden you with responsibility. There's also the fact that the father was a lousy squire who had run off to avoid the humiliation of having sired a child out of wedlock, and that you claimed you needed more time with your friends. I merely granted your wish."

Embekah eyes became tiny slits. "You do finer work keeping inns than in helping a friend out."

Tarbra gurgled, like a bubble of bile had become lodged near the top of her throat. Her mouth hung open, her hands clenching her throat in an evident effort to stop from retching.

Embekah shook her head in repugnance. "I'm done with you, Tarbra, now and forever. You made your choice. You chose Patrew long before you were ever my friend. You can go with him. I just hope the king doesn't ever find you've defiled one of his men with your harlot touch."

"Enough!" Patrew stepped between the two women, clasping each woman's shoulder to keep them from laying a finger on the other. "This bickering is getting us nowhere."

"I wouldn't say that, Patrew. It is doing wonders for my peace of mind," Embekah shot back, shaking herself free from his grip.

"I should've done us all a favor and sliced off your tongue with my blade. Then you wouldn't be able to trade barbs with us."

"A lovely image, Patrew. But how would a nobody mage like yourself handle a sword? The only way that defense barrier could have come into being is if...Tarbra had cast the spell for you." Another moment of malevolent logic caught Embekah in its grip. "That's right. You'd stolen the book for Tarbra as a gift. Bah! How could I have not seen any of this?"

Tarbra first scowled at Patrew, and then at Embekah. "You should have just died when your child was born, Embekah. It would have made things so much easier on everyone."

Embekah pummeled Tarbra with a multiple lightning bolt assault, each shot barely missing its mark. "How is it that you could be so spiteful, Tarbra? What did I ever do to you?"

"It's not what you did, but what you could have done that frightened me. For the record, however, I never had a chance to keep your child, Embekah." Tarbra glanced down at her arms and legs, inspecting herself for any signs of damage from the lightning.

Embekah's muscles constricted as she let Tarbra's claim stew about in her brain for a second. An urge to learn more of her child's fate surfaced from deep within her heart, but Embekah sensed she'd never pry the truth out of them. In all likelihood her baby had been lost forever, probably killed or left to die in the cold.

"At least I can take solace in the fact that my child did not grow up under your duplicitous guidance."

"Would you have preferred that the little son of a witch grow up to emulate your wicked ways?" Patrew snapped.

"I would prefer my son know his mother."

A croak shot out from the direction of the window. Keeping the liars in her field of vision, she gazed over to the window ledge, upon which she found Halscrad perched. How long he'd been there, Embekah couldn't say. He'd probably heard enough of the commotion to make his presence known again. She needed neither Tarbra nor Patrew in her life. She had Halscrad. Although just a toad, in all reality he'd been the closest thing to a friend Embekah would ever know.

"Some children are better off not knowing their parents," Patrew countered, sneering at the sorceress. "But at least you have your amphibian, for now that is."

The toad leaped from the sill, croaking what sounded like disapproval at Patrew's tactless remark. Embekah beamed at Halscrad. Despite the disadvantage of being much tinier than the knight or the innkeeper, Halscrad acted with a heart of gold. To rise against those threatening her took quite a lot of courage. Shameful that the people she had entrusted couldn't display Halscrad's kind of loyalty.

"I feel sorry for that frog of yours," Patrew grunted, knuckles pinned against his hips. "You can't take care of that creature any better than you would have that infant."

Embekah fumed at the knight. "Well thanks to you and Tarbra, we'll never have the answer to that, will we?"

"I knew it, which is why we had to interfere."

"You didn't have to do anything. You could have left well enough alone. You chose not to."

Tarbra, appearing to have recovered from Embekah's last slight, stepped forth. "We know you, Embekah. You run around with the wrong crowd, keep to yourself, or use your powers in a way that endangers the lives of others. You need to think about your actions, dear."

"The same way you plotted yours, dear?" Embekah darkened the moniker with sarcasm. The rush of scarlet to Tarbra's cheeks indicated Embekah's success with that jab.

Patrew, in arrogant defiance, thrust his arm around the carrier of his out-of-wedlock offspring. "Don't let this wench bother you, Tarbra. Your maternal instinct will outshine hers by far."

"I wish you all the best with that," Embekah said, fighting the compulsion to laugh at them.

The parents-to-be exchanged uneasy glances with one another.

"You wish us the best?" Tarbra echoed.

Embekah grinned. "It wouldn't be proper of me to bar you from ever holding your child. I would hope every time you cradle it, every time you hum it a nightly lullaby, just when you think your world is perfect, that you see my face and remember the malice you slighted me with."

An unfamiliar voice clamored throughout the chamber. "But is it wise to wish pain and suffering upon others, Embekah Mare?"

The sorceress, the knight, and the innkeeper all glanced around in search of the voice's owner. For a moment or two neither one of them comprehended the source. Embekah spun towards the stairway, noticing Halscrad standing upright, his legs inexplicably carrying his bulk with apparent ease, his eyes glowing with an unnatural shade of sapphire.

"Halscrad?" Embekah suddenly clutched her mouth, overwhelmed by the improbable prospect that her pet could speak at all.

Halscrad looked up at her. "I'm glad you've finally wised up to the atrocities these two have caused, all in the name of ruining your life."

"A toad who can talk? One of Embekah's spells must've backfired again," Patrew murmured to Tarbra, snickering.

Halscrad tilted his head toward the knight. "What has enabled me to talk is the fact that I was schooled correctly, you ignorant, glory-thirsty clod."

Patrew's face now matched Tarbra's glinting ire. "Embekah, undo whatever frightful spell you've put on the beast at once!"

"I've done no such thing." Embekah shrugged her shoulders.

The knight gaped at her. "You're quite the liar. I see hanging around those ill begotten influences has sharpened your capacity for deception. A good thing it is that you never had a chance to corrupt your child."

Halscrad howled with laughter, very much unlike a toad. "By 'ill begotten influences', do you mean yourselves?"

"Is that supposed to be funny?" Patrew asked with a tremble in his voice.

Another chortle erupted from the toad's throat.

"People have such feeble minds. It makes me almost not want to return to my truthful form."

"Truthful form?" Embekah couldn't believe her ears. These many years she'd had him as a pet, yet he really wasn't one after all. His croaking, his slimy skin, his diet of cicadas. Halscrad had lived the toad's life for so long as he'd been in Embekah's care. How could she ever believe otherwise?

Halscrad heaved an impatient sigh. "Evidently I must prove myself to even you, Embekah Mare."

Embekah blinked at Halscrad, watching him twist, twitch, and transform into a human. He stood approximately the same height as Patrew, maybe an inch or two shorter. His hair darker than the night, he wore a scowl that, coupled with the wart on the tip of his nose, reminded Embekah of herself. He wore a forest green tunic and matching cloak that ended just above his holey leather boots.

In that instant, grim perception rattled her thoughts.

"You're...you're...," she stuttered, unable to project the words from her mouth.

The mage-morph nodded once, an icy glaze in his eyes. He took a step toward her, careful to watch where his cape rested on the floor. His stagger undermined his balance, like he'd spent so much time in amphibian form he'd forgotten how to walk as a man.

"I am your son, Embekah Mare." His pronouncement came out in a husky rasp.

Embekah, Patrew, and Tarbra stared at one another, a collective disbelief among all three.

CHAPTER 22

MOTHER AND CHILD

Embekah eyed her son, her mind working its way past this revelation. She'd always wondered what her child would've been like had he survived his birth. Now she had her answer.

She couldn't believe how skinny he was, though, or how he managed to carry a certain authority about him despite his lack of muscle or belly fat. His eyes thinly concealed a cruel light, as though he'd been waiting for this moment his whole life.

Then her eyes met his. She saw in those darkened portals to his soul torment, the loss of love, isolation more excruciating than Embekah's. If she'd only been able to raise him, she might've been able to spare him some of his pain.

"Halscrad?" she asked, hesitant in referring to him by name.

"I suppose I could go by that nickname still," the man answered, "though I'd hoped you might address me by the name you'd picked out for me prior to my birth."

Ugh. Couldn't he have demanded something she could more readily give him? An apology, perhaps? Embekah parted her lips, praying for a tactful choice of words.

"It's been a while since I thought about the names I'd considered giving you," the sorceress admitted, her throat dry.

"Try to remember." His insistence sounded like it came from a sad desperation, rather than a lust for vindication. He took her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I've constantly wondered how things might've been if we..." he glared at Patrew and Tarbra, "...hadn't been separated."

A rush of tears caught Embekah so off guard she had to pull out of the embrace. This wasn't how she'd envisioned a possible reunion with her long lost child. Many nights had gone sleepless simply because she feared he'd lash out at her, yell at her for that which she hadn't had any control over.

"I honestly don't remember," she whispered, spinning toward the wall in hope that he wouldn't push the matter any further.

"Well, it's a good thing you can't remember the names you'd picked out for the boy, Embekah," Tarbra said tartly.

Embekah ignored the innkeeper best as she could. Did Tarbra not possess enough reason to know when not to shoot her mouth off?

"Why is that?" Halscrad inquired.

Tarbra let out a sharp cackle. "You're kidding, right? Embekah couldn't choose a good name for you any more than she could choose the right security charm to enchant her house with."

"It's better than being a murderous innkeeper," said Embekah.

Anger flashing in the woman's eyes, Tarbra gritted her teeth. "You know nothing of me, Embekah."

"That would be a fair statement, Tar. I haven't known anything real about you since the day we met. Shameful, when you consider how long ago that was."

Halscrad coughed, drawing the attention of both women away from one another. "I fail to see how Embekah would have failed in naming me."

"My god, have you not the slightest inkling of smarts?" Tarbra held her palm against her bosom, gasping in mock shock.

"I find your wits to be wanting," Halscrad replied, his tone serious. "You're purposely wounding Embekah with every utterance you make, your every attempt to destroy her demonstrating your lack of class."

Tarbra argued, "We're not out to destroy her."

Patrew stood closer to Tarbra, his loyalty to her quite clear. Tarbra wrapped an arm around him. With the way they grinned, they could've belonged to a pack of wolves.

"Such noble friends of yours, Embekah," Halscrad said, eyeing the sorceress.

"They're not my friends." Embekah rechanneled the hostility burning up deep inside her as strength instead. Only the conviction of not letting them get to her would carry her through.

"I'm glad you see that now. I just wish you could've seen it sooner."

He has a point, thought Embekah. Why she'd let her guard down around those two, she honestly didn't know. Both Tarbra and Patrew were just so good at fooling Embekah time and again. To her credit however, at least she'd never fully stopped distrusting Patrew.

"How could you two have ever wished such ill will upon me?"

"I have no idea what you're blathering about," said Tarbra, her gaze with the sorceress wavering. "I was going to give you back the life you had deserved."

"Another lie." Halscrad stepped toward Tarbra, a move which made Patrew suddenly shield the innkeeper from the former toad. "I've heard your squeals of delight late at night. I'm sorry to say that they haven't been a result of Patrew's...ahem...physical serenades."

Embekah cracked up at her son's remark. "Really!"

Halscrad smiled, and then gestured toward the liars. He dispelled a healthy flame from the tips of his fingers, sending it directly at them. Patrew flung his wrist, producing a barrier capable of blocking the blaze. The fire bounced off in either direction. Neither Tarbra nor Patrew appeared singed in the least.

"Fools," said Embekah. Every muscle in her body tightened while she channeled the energies she'd need to take them down.

Patrew held his lips an inch apart, his face displaying a despicable grimace. Then, with a sudden shift of certain muscles, he broke out that reprehensive sneer of his again.

"You're the fool," he said, thumping his chest with the top of his fist in an act of provocation.

Embekah lunged at the knight, held back only by Halscrad, who'd recalled his flames away from the deceivers. The sorceress hadn't ever imagined this being her first-ever embrace with her child.

Tarbra giggled. "Did we hurt your feelings, Embekah? We're awfully sorry about that, but we couldn't very well let you learn the truth."

"Why? Were you afraid of what the kingdom would say?" Embekah regarded them through the narrow splits of her eyes.

"Hardly," Tarbra retorted with a snort. "We have this kingdom so tightly wrapped around our fingers it's almost grown tedious for us.

"No, what concerned us greatly was the idea that you might one day uncover the truth about what had happened to your precious offspring. The thought of retaliation was a little more than we cared to fret over, so we took preemptive measures to ensure you wouldn't ever act out against us."

"Wouldn't that have just been awful?" Embekah scrunched her nose at the sight of them both. "Instead of owning up to what you'd done, you chose to kill me for it. Is the route of honesty too difficult for either of you to navigate, huh?"

"We've established for ourselves a reasonable reputation around these parts, Embekah." Pride lit up Tarbra's face. "It just wouldn't do for a no-life like you to ruin our machinations if you ever remembered the past."

"But I'd long since forgotten about it, Tarbra."

Patrew said, "We couldn't afford to take the chance of our past coming back to haunt us. We have to keep ourselves safe even if it means you have to die for it. You as well, Halscrad."

"Why does either of us have to die?" Halscrad asked.

"They can't afford any witnesses whatsoever, Halscrad, though why they waited until now to do away with me is beyond all comprehension. Whether or not I let them walk away from what they've done is irrelevant in their eyes."

Rolling his eyes at them, Halscrad said, "Even though I was raised by a peasant family on the far side of the kingdom?"

A purplish green aura developed around Patrew, his face full of mad intent. "You're a witness to the facts spoken aloud today. We have no qualms with you, but your very existence threatens to expose the lies we've told."

"The only power ever to rival ours," added Tarbra, who matched Patrew's glow with her own, "is yours, Embekah Mare. We will see to it that you are destroyed before you can use it against us."

Wrenching Halscrad toward her by the arm, Embekah readied herself for the imminent assault. "By the stars! I don't want to have anything to do with you. I'm not a killer. I don't go slaughter people just because it suits my purpose or pleasure. I just want to live a quiet life. Is that too much to ask for?"

Patrew shot a multiple dispersal of energy at both Embekah and Halscrad, the dining chamber crackling with mystical force. At once Embekah countered with a howling gust from her mouth, knocking both of the liars off their feet, against the kitchen shelves. Pots and pans rattled against the impact. A lid clanged against the back of Patrew's head.

Not to be undone by cookware, Patrew countered by pressing his hand against the ground, creating a rumble in the earth. Chunks of wood and granite showered everyone, a particularly large mass of rafter crashing down on Embekah's arm, nearly grinding her bones to dust.

"These are such closed quarters," Embekah growling, trying her best to overlook the sharp spasm of pain between her elbow and wrist as she rose to stand.

"I really don't think they care much at the moment," Halscrad said with a cough, covering his face with his arm as dust and debris rained down on them. He reeled her toward him just as a discharge courtesy of Tarbra bore into the countertop nearest where Embekah had been mere seconds before.

Embekah closed her eyes, muttered a singular word, and unleashed a plume to make the fiends gag. Cautious not to let a whiff of the cloud reach her face, Embekah charged into the corridor, Halscrad two steps behind. In that instant, she considered to fleeing the house, though in all likelihood Patrew had resealed the barrier around her manor.

On the other side of the threshold she froze, deciding to add a little more advantage back to their side. She clutched the alcove, transferring some of her power into the wood. The wall made a grinding noise against the floor as it spread from the outside of the entryway to the inside, a stone barrier blocking Patrew and Tarbra's access into the corridor for the moment.

Embekah knew she needed every advantage she could possibly afford. Those two wouldn't let a thing like an obstructed door keep them down for very long. Embekah could already feel the pulse of energy shaking the corridor, resulting in another sprinkling of ceiling debris.

She led Halscrad down the hallway, heading to the one room where Rotten Flesh had haunted her more than anywhere else. The indoor woods seemed as good a spot as any to launch a final offensive.

CHAPTER 23

WOODLAND SHOWDOWN

Embekah waited until Halscrad was safely past the threshold before she sealed the chamber door. With an ounce of heat magic to the hinges, she fused the entry shut so neither of her foes would get in. Wishful thinking on her part, she realized, but it did give her at least a couple of moments to enjoy what little time she had left with the child she'd missed these last twenty years.

In the slight chance that maybe Tarbra's spell had lifted over the house, Embekah opened the window. A quick test resulted in her fingers striking the energy barrier again.

"I don't suppose you have a plan for getting us out of here?" Halscrad asked, eyes glinting with worry.

Embekah wished she could say something heartening. But Patrew and Tarbra seemed to have the upper hand. With her inability to tear down the barrier and Tarbra more sinister than she'd ever credited the innkeeper, things had reached an impasse.

A thump struck the door she'd secured. From the sound of things, the schemers had already broken free of the kitchen. Embekah's mind churned with the mental spray of a plot in motion.

"We've got to act, Embekah," Halscrad reminded her, his tone calm despite the urgency of his words.

"You'd think the two of us could stop them," Embekah said, more to herself than to Halscrad. "And I'm not sure my magic can hold out much longer. It's been too terribly long since my last recharge."

Halscrad rushed to the door. Grazing his palm against the surface, he projected a spell onto the flap, transfiguring the object's material composition from heavy wood to steel. A bang followed by a cry on the other side of the door suggested that Patrew might've tried using only his fist or shoulder to break in. Halscrad then faced Embekah again.

"Well, I'm glad you remembered you're a wizard, too," Embekah said, a light air of annoyance subtly departing from her throat. "I doubt your little trick will keep them at bay for long. They seem to know everything there is about the nature of barriers."

Halscrad nodded. "There's just got to be some means of stopping them. What's his weakness?"

"Aside from his arrogance, there might be one way to get at him," Embekah looked up at the door, "but I might not have time to act on it."

"Just do it. I'll have your back."

In that moment, the muscles in her throat constricted, almost to the point where she caused herself to pass out. She'd heard those words many times before. Only now, they seemed to have genuine meaning supporting them.

Halscrad seemed to notice her reluctance. "What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry. What you just said threw me off a little." Embekah shook her head with much disdain. "I'm not sure what to make of it."

"I see," Halscrad said, clasping her shoulder. "It's only fitting you shouldn't want to trust anyone, considering all of the lies you've been told over the years."

Such wise words from someone so young, she thought. What a treat it would be for her if they could spend some time trading their respective histories! The adventures they'd had, the people they had met; these experiences were gems no thief could ever truly steal.

"I really wish I were wholly faultless," Embekah said, peering at her son. "There have been so many nights I've cried myself to sleep, wondering if there mightn't have been more I could've done to prevent this."

"We are not gods. Even with the spells we weave, there are limitations to what we can do. You couldn't have foreseen what those two were capable of."

Embekah's palm met the side of Halscrad's face. She caressed his cheek once, her heart overfilling with the motherly delight she'd been denied too long. All at once, her body broke down in a convulsion as warm liquid poured out of her eyes.

"What's wrong?" Halscrad asked, tilting her chin up to make her stare him in the eye.

"I'm actually happy," she uttered in a breathless undertone.

The air in the indoor forest chilled suddenly. Halscrad looked over at the door. "Were that it could last, Mother."

Joy pouring from her heart, she collapsed into a heap on the floor. The tears sought to cripple her. She clenched her teeth and fists, muttering at her own inability to fight past the emotion of this moment. In all of twenty years, she'd never once thought she'd hear the word mother. Now that Halscrad had referred to her by such, she didn't know what to do with herself.

"What's the matter?" asked Halscrad, the urgency in his voice sounding more of concern for her than for his own self-preservation.

Was it possible? Had Halscrad grown up putting others before him? All this time, Embekah had only seen the selfishness in others, the desire to do harm towards people purely out of spite or cowardice. But whoever had raised Halscrad to put others before him must've had kindness in their hearts.

If only Embekah could meet Halscrad's adoptive parents.

"I didn't raise you," breathed Embekah. "I'd let you slip through my fingers."

"Through no fault of your own," he said, bending down next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. "I've heard those two boast how they swiped me from your life. Clearly, you were in no condition to come after me."

"I don't deserve your forgiveness," Embekah said, hugging him. She could sense a slight resistance in his muscles, as if he had no idea how best to handle the embrace. Then she felt his body lose its rigidness, little by little. What was more, the guilt she'd clung to all of this time began to slip away.

"Isn't it time you stopped punishing yourself?" he asked. "You don't have to beat yourself up anymore, Mother. Let go of the past."

Another wallop struck the chamber door.

"I'd love to, Halscrad," she said, nodding toward the exit. "But the people on the other side of that door have no intention of letting me do that."

Fog rose up from under the doorway crack, spreading out to the area immediately surrounding the entrance. Part of the cloud concentrated more on the door, like it was purposely intent on covering the steely surface. A layer of rime grew over the door, growing until it protruded several inches from the flap.

Another blow from the other side shattered the door to pieces. In stormed Patrew and Tarbra, the expressions etched upon their faces lethal.

"You've put up a valiant struggle," Patrew grumbled, "but this ends now."

Embekah felt Halscrad's fingers tightly wrapping around hers.

"You have a lot of gall attacking this woman. She has never done any wrong by you. Your cowardice has perpetrated this all on its own," said Halscrad.

Tarbra started for Embekah, but Patrew gripped her arm to hold her back.

"Embekah Mare has always been trouble for us, even if she hasn't truly known it." Patrew glowered at Halscrad. "You would have been better off remaining as a toad, lad. We wouldn't have considered you for the slaughter if you had."

Halscrad looked unwilling to distance himself away from Embekah. "You're a fool, sir. Whatever insanity has spurred you on, whatever darkest demons possess you in such a way you cannot ever vanquish them, it makes me pity you that much more."

"You dare mock me?" Patrew's eyes swelled wider.

Embekah tugged at Halscrad. "Now's not the time to insult the man."

Patrew made an aquamarine bubble between his fingers, twirling his fingers about as though sculpting pottery. He projected the jiggling orb toward Embekah and Halscrad, a grin vilifying the features Embekah had once found most attractive on the warrior.

Truly, what a charlatan, thought Embekah.

"I shall be merciful. I will grant you no further stay on life." Patrew's bubble grew closer toward Embekah and Halscrad, dark smoke billowing abruptly inside the wobbly sphere.

"Should we burst his bubble?" Halscrad asked Embekah.

The sorceress refused to crack a smile. "Much as I'd like to, I'd really hate to see what that cloud has in store for us."

She bolted away from her present position. Memories of her sprained ankle came flaring back to her joints, just like how she'd found herself half a year ago. She twisted about the wrong way again, exacerbating the pain. Down she went, face first into a bush, the branches scratching up her face.

"Mother!" Halscrad rushed to her side, magic shooting from his fingers to her face. The warmth in his touch as well as the decrease in blood suggested that Halscrad was working some sort of restorative spell upon her.

"Thank you," she said, now only weighed down by her ankle, her smarting arm and the damage to her pride. With the bubble rapidly approaching, she didn't have the time to ask Halscrad to take care of her foot.

"Can you run?" Halscrad looked down at her foot.

"I'll try. Just help me up," she said, offering him her hand.

Halscrad glanced up, and then shook his head. "It's too late. There isn't time."

He blasted at the bubble with a fiery red discharge, popping the spherical film, unleashing the cloud, which then descended toward them. Halscrad snatched Embekah's good arm and tore away from there, his grip on her firm but not enough to snap her wrist. The cloud settled on the bush, forcing the plant to shrivel up into ashen death.

Embekah and Halscrad gaped at the shrinkage, and then at each other. It took all of Embekah's resolve not to collapse into hopelessness at that moment. So long as she had Halscrad still, nothing else mattered. She would not surrender to despair, to the eternal void.

"Okay, so maybe he's not so much a fool as I believed," Halscrad whispered.

"Indeed not." Patrew snorted, emerging from behind the nearest tree. "I may be a dabbler, but Tarbra is an excellent educator. With her guidance, there is nothing I can't do now."

Embekah felt her lips ooze into the darkest smile she had ever made, her body tingling with confidence after Patrew's last assertion. "Except, perhaps, become the greatest warrior the kingdom of Trava has ever known."

Patrew glared at her. "I could do that too, if I so desire. All I have to do is snap my fingers, and the title is instantly bestowed upon me."

"Is that what you think sorcery can do for you? Grant you wishes?" Embekah laughed. "You, dear sir, have neither the understanding nor the appreciation for the craft I've worked so hard to develop over the course of my lifetime."

Patrew made the slightest of flinches, but it was enough for Embekah to notice.

"You're wrong."

"Am I?" Embekah raised a brow at him.

Patrew gnashed his teeth. "You know, I'm beginning to tire of your wit. You should learn to control it. Not many men could appreciate a snarky trollop."

"Thank you very much for the compliment, Patrew."

It would've been so easy for her to trade barbs with him, given how the man didn't know how best to channel his power. But maybe compassion even in the face of danger might show the schemers that they truly had nothing to fear from her.

"You think I should waste my powers in the same way as you?" Patrew scoffed at her. "You're truly the sorriest excuse for a sorceress I have ever met."

"I'm sorry you see me like that," Embekah remarked, her voice full of real pity.

Patrew caused a ripple effect in the very air around them, bending the perception of reality until it washed into vertigo, a shifting sea of reality, swirling motion in every direction, shapes no longer solid. As she tumbled to the ground, she could hear Halscrad regurgitating his last meal, the stink of vomit unmistakable.

"You see?" Patrew roared with laughter at them. "I control everything around here. None of you can hold a candle to me. This kingdom is mine."

"I thought you meant to share this land with Tarbra?" grunted Embekah. Wiping off as much of the perspiration from her brow as she could, she forced herself to rise. "Or are you lying to her as well?"

Patrew's grin didn't diminish. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"You can't make friends. You can't create spells without Tarbra's assist. You can't truly serve as a knight in the Travan army." As she spoke, the final truth settled in her mind. "And you can't kill me. Neither by sword nor by sorcery, it's not within your means. By doing so, the kingdom would know you're a rapscallion of the worst sort."

Patrew filled the air with electricity, striking the ground next to where Embekah stood. "I am more than capable of bringing your demise, Embekah. In fact, I think it's time I did so."

Embekah beamed at him. "I don't think so. Otherwise, you'd have done it long ago."

She remembered when he'd first come to her manor. How could she not have seen it earlier? Was his reluctance genuine?

"Don't let her discourage you, Patrew," Tarbra sang out, having made herself at home somewhere in the indoor woods.

"I'm not."

Embekah could feel the fiery incense in her cheeks again. Where Patrew failed in many ways, except by virtue of cooking and fixing up things around the manor, Tarbra remained as ever his more competent, and dangerous, counterpart.

But Patrew's hesitation gave Embekah cause for concern. Why wasn't he at least throwing punches? Embekah glanced around for Tarbra, whose aural-only presence heightened Embekah's senses to danger.

Her brain had no sooner produced the notion than something with significant force struck Embekah across the chin. Embekah crumpled backward, crashing against the nearest tree. Fragments of bark became embedded in the flesh of her hands and, judging from the throbbing that hadn't been there before, her back. Fabric from her cloak tore off the instant she peeled herself away from the tree.

Another thrust came, this time to her breast. Embekah tried to wail, but wheezing seemed the only thing she was capable of at present. She should've kept better watch over Tarbra.

Fortunately, Halscrad charged at what appeared to be nothing, his fists aglow. The precision of his tackle made the air crackle, revealing Tarbra in a garb of bolts, her invisibility compromised.

If they survived this, Embekah would have to ask him how he even knew where Tarbra was to have perfectly pinpointed the innkeeper's location.

Patrew rushed to Tarbra's side, bending down to help her up. The energy surrounding Tarbra zapped Patrew, sending him flying a distance of several feet. He collided with the floor, then growled and crawled back onto his feet. His eyes shimmered with deadly determination, his hard work of the past year unfurling on him.

"You've harmed my beloved," Patrew said, his face a fuming red.

Embekah couldn't believe the man's gall. "And I suppose you've been treating me with the highest form of decency."

Patrew got within several feet of her without doing something requiring Halscrad's immediate interference. The huffs from his nostrils barely drowned out Embekah's every heartbeat.

"I demonstrate decency only to the deserving."

"And what do I deserve, Patrew?"

"Death."

"How do you figure that?"

"Because you're a threat to us," he answered, taking in deep, hollow breaths, which seemed to hold no effect on him.

Halscrad stepped in again. "You're the worst kind of joke imaginable, sir. You're an unworthy warrior. You swipe an infant from a mother before she's ever had a chance to hold him. You act as though you're doing the kingdom a service by attempting to blame and kill Embekah for things you've done."

"I wish you could value what I've gone through over the years. I had no idea whether she'd report my misdeeds to the king." Patrew glared at Embekah.

"I've done nothing wrong!" Embekah could feel a mesh of despair and odium pulsating all the way from her soul to her fingers.

Patrew's expression darkened. "You, my dear wench, are too much of a liability to my life."

Halscrad lit up with a brighter, stronger radiance, looking ready to explode. Embekah threw her hand in front of her son, drawing him back from the brink of lamentable impulse.

"I'm sorry you feel that way about me, Patrew," said Embekah. "I don't know how else I might've proven myself to you, but as it turns out it doesn't look highly likely I could ever do so."

Of all the things Patrew couldn't do, being able to admit the truth proved the most impossible for him.

"You've already proven yourself a hazard to me." Patrew made no hint of backing down.

Embekah resisted the itch to offer him a snappy comeback. It was almost as though he were making a deliberate try at provocation. She wouldn't feed into it another instant.

"What if I were to leave the kingdom?" Embekah watched their faces fill with confusion. Apparently the idea had never once crossed either one of their minds.

"Leave the kingdom?" Patrew echoed in an uncertain tone.

Embekah shrugged. "Why not?"

"I don't see how you'd be any less of a threat to my stature in the kingdom if you were to pack up and go elsewhere."

"Oh, face it, Patrew," Embekah scoffed. "You have even less stature in all of Trava than I do. That's saying quite a bit as I'm very much the outcast, thanks to you two."

Patrew's natural color slowly returned to his face. "But you might tell the king what I've...what we've done. What's to stop you from doing so?"

"Uh, my lack of interest in reporting your follies to the king, perhaps?" Embekah found sarcasm an ever more tempting reply. "Look, I know you don't really want me dead. You've had loads of opportunities to do so. Despite your fallacies, you're shown some semblance of being a decent guy. You can do the right thing, Patrew. I got over what happened a long time ago. I'm just grateful that I have my son now."

"But Embekah, we ripped your child from your arms all those many years ago," said a recovering Tarbra, groaning as she crept amongst the grass, finally sounding full of remorse.

Embekah pursed her lips. "Yes, you did." She released a sigh before saying anything further. "But here's the thing about revenge. Its power, its strength, lies in the immediate intimacy of the moment. I could be angry, but what good would that serve? Far as I'm concerned, neither of you have lived a single day in peace since you robbed me of my child. The fact that you were unable to hold onto Halscrad, that Halscrad has grown into a mage despite your poorest of intentions, serves as justice for me.

"However," she said, shushing them with a finger, insisting for another moment. "You have faced an enemy of the grandest proportions since that night twenty years ago. Your guilt. You have never escaped from under its shroud. Your actions, your choices; these speak of desperation. You created entrapment for yourself through kidnapping and attempted murder. In doing so, you've essentially ruined your lives.

"I suggest that you take this moment to figure out who you are, and what you can do to move beyond this. Be better people. Let us go, and I promise you neither Halscrad nor I will ever report your treachery to the proper authorities."

Embekah let her words linger in the air. The expressions both of her housemates provided her with only supplemented her vindication. Tarbra carried the air of an animal with a thorn in its paw. Despite the lack of a reply, the innkeeper's inability to look Embekah directly in the eye reflected the demise of their friendship, estrangement eclipsing the shameful parting of guild sisters.

While regret kept Tarbra's silence, hesitation seemed to be Patrew's current companion. "How can we ever be sure you won't come back?" he asked, running his hand through his hair.

Embekah shrugged. "After spending the past year cooped up underneath one roof, what makes you think I'm not fit for worldly travels?"

"The very notion of you spreading your wings in flight and heading off to any possible corner of the world troubles me," Patrew remarked, much more bite in his tone now. "I don't trust you, Embekah."

"You most certainly don't." Embekah calmed her bleeding heart down. There was a very fine line between lending others sympathy, and playing right into their clutches. "I don't know how else to prove to you that my word is golden. Unless..."

The schemers shot skeptical glances at one another. "Unless what?" Patrew scrutinized Embekah with the utmost care, acting as though any compromise reached might be akin to selling their souls on the black market for a fraction of copper.

Embekah held her palms above her hands, gesturing towards the rafters. "What if I were to offer you the roof over our heads? A new family has certain needs. I'm convinced my home will be able to provide you the shelter you need to start over with your lives."

"Mother," Halscrad spoke up, forcing himself between the sorceress and the faux knight, thrusting the latter away with a hefty shove. "Why are you so eager to throw your own home away?"

Embekah watched Tarbra stop Patrew's advance toward Halscrad, the knight-mage's response to being pushed. "This hasn't been my home since they trapped me in here."

"But you're just letting them get away with their crimes."

Embekah found it very hard not to smile at her son's naiveté. "Am I?"

"They took me from you. They hunted you down and made you their prisoner. Now you want to reward them for their disloyalty?"

Unaccustomed to having someone stand up for her, Embekah patted Halscrad on the head, grazing his cheek with a motherly kiss. Such devotion had been rare in her life. She'd cherish every moment of it from now on.

"I wouldn't call it rewarding them. To be honest, the other guild members probably wound up getting what their deserved, some of them much later on than others. And I'd have made a terrible mother back then," Embekah said, noticing the lines on Halscrad's face shift slightly. Would he get how she wasn't the same person back then?

Halscrad grumbled. "But you didn't surrender me to these people. They kidnapped me. They should still pay."

Embekah sensed Halscrad was sliding down a slope toward aggression. She went to tug at his arm, but he didn't veer away from his abductors.

"We did what we thought was best for you," Tarbra said.

Embekah sniffed around for any trace of sarcasm, either in the innkeeper's words, or enveloping her lips. The sorceress found none whatsoever.

"I highly doubt it," Halscrad countered, a growl lingering on his last exhalation.

"Whether or not you believe us is irrelevant," Patrew said. "It is the truth."

Embekah made a second effort to intercept Halscrad, this time succeeding. She felt his muscles tense up as she restrained his arm. He might've made a fine warrior himself had things been different.

"You'll forgive my son for not believing you, Patrew," Embekah said. "Your newfound devotion to honesty has left us somewhat...dazed."

Patrew's face retreated to a faded hue. "Then I don't know what else to tell you."

"Of course." Embekah nodded at him. "How about you agree to let my son and I go, and in return I'll provide you with the manor to do with as you please. It's a perfect out-of-the-way location for you and Tarbra to raise a child without much worry."

Not that Embekah had ever experienced this for herself.

"Except that they're not raising a child," Halscrad blurted out, his jaw set with rage. "They lied about that, too, Mother."

The fact that her son's claim proved so believable disgusted her, especially since she had yet to hear the evidence backing it up.

"Have they now?" she asked, eyeing the schemers.

"We didn't lie about being pregnant!" Tarbra patted her stomach, motioning her hand around her mid-section in several sections, attempting to give the impression that she was, in fact, carrying a child to term.

Patrew, meanwhile, seemed to be at a complete loss for words. A few stammers came from him, but he couldn't form a complete thought to save his life.

"As a toad, I heard everything they spoke of, Mother," Halscrad said, casting a nasty scowl toward the liars. "They spent many evenings snickering behind your back while you sought to protect yourself from the mage-morph Obfuscatos enchantment. While it is true that they have fondled one another to such a degree of distaste, there was no possible way for them to conceive a child."

"Because that's another thing Patrew can't seem to do," Embekah said with awe. "Boy, Patrew, you're sure lucky you can fix furniture. Your incompetence seems to know no bounds otherwise."

Patrew roared and charged at Halscrad, fists flying. Halscrad threw up a quick defensive shield that blocked Patrew's punches in such a way the fake knight wound up unable to even dent the temporary screen. An infuriated yowl from the depths of Patrew's core accompanied each failed blow.

"I admire your desire to forgive these two, Mother," Halscrad said, now channeling forest green energy about his form. "But these two need to pay for their lies. They're the ones who need to stand trial for what they've done."

Embekah knew her son was right, but hauling the lying duo off toward Castle Leywa didn't seem a proper fate for them. Sure, she wanted to see justice for what they'd done, yet Patrew and Tarbra could simply manipulate their way out of serving any dungeon time.

"Even if we presented our case to the king and queen, Halscrad, these two have charmed the kingdom into submission," said Embekah, crestfallen. "We'd never be able to make anything stick."

A shrill of laughter burst from Tarbra's airways. "That's right, you foolish toad," the innkeeper said to Halscrad. "We are the superior mages. You'll never face anything but a country lusting for your slaughter. All it takes is a little nudge from us to turn them loose against you. We've done it once before. We can do it again."

Embekah couldn't control the vibe of trepidation flooding her body. Tarbra spoke truthful words, for once. The liars had the country's army at their disposal, thanks to their magic and machinations. It would take but a thought to turn the Royal Army against Embekah and Halscrad.

But before Embekah could counter Tarbra's threat with a second promise of clemency, Halscrad supplied the liars with an answer.

"You'll never get the chance to do so," he uttered. "Amphibious ambition, darkest sensation, brings about a transformation!"

Halscrad dispelled the energy surrounding him from his body, appearing to guide it in the direction of the liars.

The discharge came so quickly that neither Tarbra nor Patrew had time to flee. Their screams broke the air with sharpness, almost animalistic in nature. Their skin shifted to a sickly shade. Warts bubbled all over their faces for a moment or two, and then burst, leaving a slight, sticky slime against their changing skin. Their cheeks puffed out and they made croaking sounds almost against their will. Their hairlines on both their scalps and, in Patrew's case, jaw line, receded, as their bodies also retreated from their usual height to something more customary for Halscrad.

When the mystical power drained from the air, when it was all over at last, the indoor woods had two new toads to inhabit its trees and shrubbery.

"I can't believe you just did that," Embekah said, unable to hide the sheer admiration in her voice.

Halscrad appeared to pick up on this, for he said, "I had a feeling you wouldn't be able to do what needed to be done, Mother. They played on your sympathies right down to the very end.

"But for me, any compassion I may've had for these scoundrels died away the moment they stole me from your loins."

The two toads glanced up at Halscrad, trembling slightly. Before he could capture them, they hopped off into the nearest underbrush they could find, ruffling the leaves that Embekah suspected would be inadequate in hiding them from Halscrad's further ire.

"You're not planning on keeping them like that, are you?" Embekah asked, hoping that what Halscrad said about not having any consideration for the liars' didn't ring completely true. Justice was all and good, but there was a reason why the law established set time limits on punishments.

To her relief, Halscrad's expression warmed a little.

"The enchantment I cast should wear off in a few days. I think their downtime will give them enough to consider when it comes to not messing with the Mare family in the future."

"I still can't believe how powerful of a mage you've become," she said, high regard still clinging to her voice. "I must say, you've made me awfully proud."

Halscrad blushed a little. "Thank you, Mother."

"You're welcome," she said, rubbing every achy spot on her body screaming for soothing. "I don't know about you, but I think I'm ready to get out of the indoor woods for a spell. Care to come?"

Halscrad grinned. "But of course, Mother. We have a lot of catching up to do, do we not?"

At this, Embekah nodded.

"Indeed, we do, my son."

CHAPTER 24

KNIGHT MARE

(Day 270, Year of the Toad)

With tomes and scrolls loaded to an almost unsustainable level in her arms, Embekah pushed open the door to her loft with a shoulder shove, the flap proving less than capable of fending off her entrance. It seemed strange to walk into a chamber with considerable less space than in her former abode, here on the second floor of the Z'lymor Inn.

She beamed at how accommodating the inn's new owners had been of her and Halscrad. Settling into their new room that first night could've proven problematic if the elderly couple hadn't been so accommodating. Until she'd met them, she'd found such kindness rare in the kingdom.

At least she'd never again worry about stumbling over an exposed tree root on the way back from tending to her marketplace needs. Plus, she'd be among the first to know when the freshest ingredients arrived at the market, too. Now that no one wanted her dead, Embekah found it liberating to meander about the town square without a shroud over her head.

Having unloaded her burden save for a pouch still tied to her arm, Embekah undid the laces. The bag full of magical ingredients clomped down hard on the closest countertop. Her body joined her in a sigh of relief as the aches receded from her muscles. A cleaner whiff of air in the place, for sure, further proof that Embekah had grown too accustomed to the musk of her old abode.

She went for a seat in the nearest chair. Drawing her cloak away from her feet, she massaged her ankle. It sure seemed a lifetime ago since Patrew pursued her through the woods.

Had it really been three months already since she last thought of Patrew and Tarbra? The way she'd left them in the end, she'd almost forgotten they were ever a burden to her in the first place.

After resting for a moment, Embekah went to store her ingredients before spoilage claimed them. Even having hefted several items about a matter of moments ago, her brow found no beads of perspiration soiling it. Her vigor seemed renewed, her temperament kept in better check, her health vastly improved.

So much more life had opened up for her that she couldn't decide what to do with herself half the time anymore. Should she go enjoy a drink of the newest style of brew downstairs at the inn? Or would she be able to persuade Halscrad to join her for a romp down the promenade?

Many possibilities lay ahead for her. She still had time to see the world, but for the moment, living in the close-knit society of Trava Town, this seemed a good start for her future explorations.

"Can you believe this is the life we can afford ourselves now?" Halscrad burst into the chamber via the entranceway Embekah hadn't yet shut, his face lit up with both vigor and mirth. He'd fleshed himself out in the last several weeks, putting more than just a little bit of meat back on his bones.

Twice Embekah had to tell him enough was enough. It just wouldn't look good for the king's newest guard to let his figure go. Bulk was one thing, poor health another.

"I need not wealth to afford the life I want for myself, Halscrad," Embekah replied. "Though I must admit, it does feel good not having to hide out in the forest anymore."

"Speaking of the forest, you haven't missed it much these last few months, have you?" Halscrad approached her, his eyes glinting with concern. "I mean, you did live the past twenty years out there and all."

"I don't even miss the indoor forest. I wonder if they even got out of there alive before a snake ate them or something."

"You mean Patrew and Tarbra?"

"Yes." How great it felt that Embekah could hear those names again without flinching at all. She'd managed to put up a brave front before the others, but she couldn't deny the anger coursing through her when the truth had come out about those two. At least she'd survived the horrors they'd tried to inflict upon her.

"I guess I can see now why you would've just surrendered your old home to them, even if it still seems a bit...odd," Halscrad said.

"They didn't want their lies to be exposed to the kingdom, and I had no further use of that place." Embekah smiled. "It would've been a fair trade in my eyes."

"But to just surrender your home to them after you lived there for so long..."

Embekah coughed. "It was time, Halscrad."

"Time for what?" The confusion on his face grew more pronounced by the second.

"Moving on. That manor lost its charm a long time ago."

"A shame neither of those two ever figured out how to move beyond what they'd done."

Embekah couldn't argue with that. "At least they have each other, and they can start all over tending to their own needs."

"You don't think they'll ever return to Trava Town?"

"It wouldn't be in their best interests. Word of your joining the royal mages has spread across the landscape. People know Tarbra hasn't worked at the inn in months. They'd be fools not to know the kingdom's talking."

"They could always try and subject the kingdom to a series of mind-altering hexes," Halscrad said, hooking an eyebrow.

"True, but at the end of the day, they'd still have to live with themselves. I don't have to live with them." Embekah mused over this for a second, and then laughed. "Not anymore at least!"

Halscrad quietly smiled at her as he sat down at the table.

Embekah put the last container in its proper cupboard, latching it shut before facing Halscrad again. As she turned, her fingers grazed the lining of a pocket, finding a tiny lump in the otherwise smooth fabric. She reached in there and withdrew a small bag in which she found dark ashes.

"I'd very nearly forgotten about this, too." Her voice came out in a whisper of wonder.

"What's that?" Halscrad's gaze glued to the sack.

Embekah unraveled the silk container for Halscrad to inspect. "I've always carried these with me over the years after I lost you. I thought they were yours."

Halscrad looked uncertain of what to say.

"I don't know precisely when they came into my possession," she continued, "but I'd wager it happened at some point shortly after you disappeared."

Halscrad rushed to offer her a hug, and then gently glided her into the seat he had left empty for her.

"All along they wanted to see me dead. To think they came so close to accomplishing that task. If you hadn't found me, if you hadn't made your presence into my life, they'd have gotten away with it."

"Indeed," said Halscrad.

"Sometimes I lay awake late at night and marvel at how you came back into my life without me knowing all this time."

"Remember that portly nursemaid who rescued you from the brink of death? I ran across her years later, when my adopted parents spoke up about me not being bonded to them by blood. I'd inquired around about women who had delivered infants many moons ago. At that point, she tended to more than her fair share of mothers and children.

"Yet she spoke of you, the woman from the alley who nearly died delivering me," Halscrad said, stroking his chin in deep strokes, leaning against the counter.

"What'd she say?" Embekah asked.

"Only that she admired your strength and courage to carry on. I suspect she may have learned who you were at some point and made a vow to protect you at all cost from those who would harm you most."

"Namely Tarbra and Patrew," Embekah grunted their names. Then the realization that she'd never come to know the nursemaid's own identity struck her. "Did you ever find out what her name was?"

"Holva, if I'm not mistaken. It was such a long time ago, though. I'm sure she's long since passed on, if you're intending to thank her for what she did for the both of us."

Embekah nodded. "The woman was a miracle worker, Halscrad. She saved both of us from Patrew and Tarbra back then."

"Do you think they'll return to Trava?"

"Doubtful. I think the guilt of what happened long ago had made life here miserable for them. I can certainly relate."

"Okay." Halscrad seemed to take her at her word.

"Now let's not talk about this anymore. I feel like getting out of the house again. Want to come?"

Halscrad grinned at her. "You haven't hung out around the loft much since we moved in."

"I haven't?" Embekah hadn't been aware of this.

"No. You've been so busy with your comings and goings I almost felt it necessary to point it out."

Embekah pondered this for a few seconds. "Thank you for telling me this. Now shall we go for a stroll around the town square?"

Halscrad didn't argue with her. Instead he led her to the door, opened it, and crossed into the world outside again.

She began to follow, but then paused as the memory of expecting a barrier crept back into her mind. Drawing a breath, she stepped across the entry, rejoining her son on the other side.

Onto the streets she emerged, mother and sorceress, no longer vexed by the spell of entrapment. She waved to a couple of people she had come to known in the weeks following her new lease on freedom. When she'd told them who she was, they'd responded with shrugs, apparently unfamiliar with the name of Embekah Mare.

In time, however, they would learn of her name. And she'd see to it that only the best things were associated with it. The triumph of her son's career in the Royal Army seemed as good a place to start.

With Halscrad strolling alongside her, Embekah Mare wandered down toward the marketplace in search of the latest arrival of toadstools. She couldn't wait to find a new enchantment for those fungi.

THE END

