Rembrien Chapter 6.

Chapter 6.

 

One Small Step.

 

Shade seemed keen to leave Nordon behind. He quickened his pace to a canter, his hooves rhythmic against the road. It was late afternoon when Sophrayni guided him into the yard of a wayside inn.

A stable lad rushed out to take Shade’s reins. Sophrayni left him to it and stepped inside. The air was warm with stew and firelight. Conversation hushed as she entered; her hat and dress were unmistakable. The innkeeper blinked once, then bowed. A serving girl curtsied so deeply she nearly dropped her tray.

They knew who she was. Or rather, they knew what she was: the new Witch of the Dark Forest. The one who had saved Nordon’s charmer from the pyre; the one who had mended Weyrham’s clock and stilled Burnton’s unrest. Word travels faster than horses when magic is involved.

“This is our best room,” said the innkeeper. “There’s honeyed porridge in the parlour, and a seat by the fire.”

It was gratifying, not for the comfort, but for the quiet respect. She was becoming a figure of story. And stories, unlike emotions, do hold magic. That night, she slept deeply while the fire crackled and the wind turned. Somewhere beyond the hills, an ancient evil stirred.

Early the next morning, despite the innkeeper’s protests, she paid for her keep. Shade was brought out, brushed, saddled, and ready to go. She rode steadily east, testing the land for signs of whatever had affected Nordon. Nothing felt out of place until she came within sight of Weedon.

There was no welcome here. The town gates were firmly shut. At some point, the people had built wooden walls around the town. They weren’t well made, thrown up in a hurry, but they were enough to slow down any attackers.

Sophrayni pulled Shade to a halt and reached out with her witch’s senses. The townsfolk were terrified. Their fear was so strong she could almost taste it. As she approached the gates, two guards appeared from a small hut. They carried short spears, but even to Sophrayni’s untrained eye, they didn’t look like they knew how to use them.

“No one is allowed in!” shouted one of the men. “Go away!” He waved his spear in a clumsy arc that looked more dangerous to himself than to Sophrayni.

Shade blew down his nose, a sound like a snort of derision.

“Gently, my friend,” whispered Sophrayni in his ear. “For now, we’ll do as the man says.”

She turned Shade away and followed a path that curved around the edge of the town. Set back from the path stood a small cottage. At the front gate was a woman in an apron, her hands dusted with flour. Shade stopped without being told.

“Pardon the way I look,” said the woman breathlessly. “I was making bread when I saw you arrive. I’m Blossom Smike, and I know you’re the Witch of the Dark Forest.”

Sophrayni dismounted. “And you’re the local charmer, I believe,” she said with a smile.

Blossom beamed. “Indeed I am. Please, come in.”

The cottage was warm and fragrant, the hearth alive with the scent of rising bread and dried herbs. Sophrayni stepped inside, grateful for the calm. The walls were lined with jars, charms, tinctures, and bundles of dried plants tied with red thread. A cat blinked at her from the windowsill, then turned away, unimpressed.

“I’ve been trying to get back into Weedon for days,” Blossom said, bustling about. “But they won’t open the gates. Not even for me, and I’ve lived here all my life.”

Sophrayni nodded. “I felt it before I saw it. The fear is thick. It’s not just panic, it’s something deeper. Something is feeding on them.” She paused. “Smike,” she said. “I know that name. There’s a Captain Smike in the Foresters. I have seen his name in Calizone’s diary.”

Blossom’s smile grew even wider. “That could have been my husband or even his father. There has been a Smike in the Foresters ever since they were first set up.  You may have met, Will Smike, my son.”

“I did not know his mother was a charmer,” Sophrayni said, settling into the chair Blossom indicated.

“Not proud of his old mother, sorry to say,” Blossom replied ruefully. “Still, he visits when he can. Actually, he’s here now. He brought the new portrait of the King and the message about you. He’s out looking for a way into the town.”

Sophrayni leaned back, letting the warmth of the hearth settle around her. “He always struck me as steady. Quiet, but thoughtful. I suppose that runs in the family.”

Blossom chuckled, wiping her hands on her apron. “He’s a good lad. Just a bit stiff when it comes to magic. Thinks it’s all mystery and menace. I told him once that charmers are just gardeners with a different kind of seed. He didn’t laugh.”

Sophrayni smiled faintly. “He’s not wrong to be cautious. The world’s changing. Magic’s shifting. And something old is waking.”

Blossom’s face grew serious. “I’ve felt it too. In the land itself. The hedges don’t grow right. The bees forget their way home. It’s like the world is catching its breath.”

Sophrayni nodded. “It’s the same thread I’ve been following. Burnton. Nordon. Now here. Whatever it is, it’s feeding on fear. And Weedon is full of fear.”

Blossom poured tea into two mismatched cups. “Then we’ll need to find Will. He’s clever with locks and stubborn with walls. If anyone can get us inside, it’s him.”

Sophrayni took the cup, the steam curling like a question. “Tell me, Blossom, what exactly is going on here?”

“I was away at the charmers’ meeting until a couple of days ago. Everything was fine when I left, but it was like this when I came back. I think it started with the Kingsman, Lord Reynard. He’s one of those nervous types, jumps at his own shadow. His clerk, Romer, is no better. A right pair of scaredy-cats. They’ve passed on their fear to everyone in town, but what’s frightening them, I don’t know. People are too scared to even shout over the walls to me.”

The cottage door opened, and Captain Smike stepped inside. He saluted Sophrayni and sat down. “A bunch of amateurs,” he sniffed. “I could get inside there with a gang of stable lads, never mind real soldiers.”

“But can you get us in?” asked his mother.

He sighed. “Yes, but what would be the point? They’re so terrified they’d just hide or run away in panic. If they saw or felt something, they didn’t tell anyone what it was. They just locked the gates and started issuing orders. The town followed suit. Like sheep.”

“No,” Sophrayni said. “Not sheep. They were afraid because someone else was afraid first.” She stood, her tea untouched. “I need to talk to this Lord Reynard. I need to know what’s scared him so much.”

“I know I can’t do enough magic to make him braver,” said Blossom, “but can you?”

Sophrayni shook her head. “Fear is an emotion. Magic can’t touch it. At best, all anyone can do is remove the thing that’s causing the fear. I could blow the gates apart and stroll in, but that would only scare them further. I think I’ll go gently.”

Outside, the morning had softened. Mist clung to the hedgerows, and the wooden walls of Weedon looked less like a fortress and more like a frightened child’s barricade. As they approached the gate, Captain Smike stepped forward. “I am Captain Will Smike of the King’s Foresters. I request entry for myself and the Witch of the Dark Forest.”

The guards hesitated. One looked ready to bolt; the other swallowed hard and disappeared into the hut. After a few moments, the gate creaked open just enough to admit a single person.

“She may enter,” the guard said, his voice trembling. “But only her.”

Sophrayni glanced at Smike. He nodded once. “I’ll wait here. If you need me, shout.”

She stepped through the gate, and it closed behind her with a thud. Inside, the town was hushed. People peered from windows and vanished behind doors. She made her way to the Kingsman’s house, where the clerk, Romer, darted inside at the sight of her.

Sophrayni followed. Lord Reynard sat at a desk, hands clenched around a goblet of water. His eyes were rimmed with sleeplessness. “You’re the Witch of the Dark Forest. Have you come to save us?”

“Save you from what?” asked Sophrayni.

“The wraiths,” Lord Reynard whispered. “An army of wraiths surrounds the whole town. They wait until it’s dark, then they swarm over the walls. We keep the fires and lanterns lit so it stays light. Wraiths can’t attack if it’s light.”

Sophrayni studied him. He believed every word. “Have you seen them? With your own eyes?”

Reynard nodded too quickly. “Shapes. Movement. Screams in the night. Romer saw one close, he says it had no face, only a mouth. We’ve lost livestock. The shadows move wrong.”

Sophrayni let the silence stretch. Her witch’s senses told her there was no magic here, no breach, and no wraiths. “They were sealed,” she said gently. “For a thousand years, in their home valley. They cannot leave.”

“But they have,” Reynard whispered. “I know it.”

Sophrayni walked to the window and opened the bolted shutters. Outside, the town was quiet. No wraiths.

 “You haven’t seen wraiths, Lord Reynard. You’ve seen fear. And fear is clever. It makes shadows into monsters.”

He looked at her, eyes wide. “Then what do we do?”

“One small step at a time,” Sophrayni said. “May I meet your family?”

She was shown to a side room to meet Lady Merien and their daughter, Elisha. Sophrayni knelt beside the girl and asked if she had seen the wraiths. Elisha shook her head; she only heard her father shouting. Sophrayni gave her a small, non-magical charm, a polished stone wrapped in silver thread.

“This won’t protect you from wraiths,” she said, “because there are none. But it will remind you that you’re not alone. Later, if you’re brave, we’ll walk outside together. Just to the gate.”

Lady Merien stood. “If she goes, I’ll go too.”

At dusk, the three of them stepped into the street. The townsfolk watched from cracked-ajar doors as they walked slowly toward the gate. The guard opened it on command. They stepped out, just a single pace, but outside.

Captain Smike stood waiting and gave a nod to Elisha. She nodded back. No wraiths appeared. No screams filled the air. There was only a town watching three people choose not to be afraid.

Astonishingly, as they turned back, Lord Reynard and Romer were walking through the streets to join them. Sophrayni turned to Elisha. “One small step is all it takes, and the world begins to shift.”

That evening, Sophrayni and Smike looked back at the town from the cottage step. Weedon was dark; the lights that had burned all night were gone.

“It’s wrong,” Sophrayni frowned.

“How’s that?” Smike asked.

“It’s too quick. People are quick to fear and slow to let it go. This shouldn’t have happened so fast. I was told something truly bad is coming. I think I’m beginning to understand what it might be.”