The Winter passed quickly, the snows melting slowly in the shadow of the forest. In the north east, the Everwhite Mountains would remain visibly white, and there was still a nippy chill in the air, but Spring was coming fast to Trader’s Grove.

They’d survived their first full Winter in the clearing, and were quickly becoming known through Helafjin for their goods. Their exact whereabouts were known only to a select few in Longtown, which was where they went to do their trades every few months, weather permitting.

Felicity had grown to be the most sought-after healer for hunters in the area, when the travel to Longtown was too much. She mostly dealt with frostbite, falls and small animal attacks. Though there was the odd bear-mauling or broken leg she had to mend.

Harrow managed to get a good crop out every year, of potatoes or squash, or grain. He always seemed to have enough of whatever traders from Longtown and the travellers in Helafjin needed, almost as if he had some foresight during planting seasons as to what would be needed in a year’s time.

Kɧylin helped both her parents, and had even started learning how to set small animal traps from a wandering band of Winter Elves who came from the Everwhite Forest to do business with her family.

She found them fascinating, with their pointed ears and teeth, muttering things to each other in Elvish. The Winter Elves of the Everwhite Forest were one of the last races to still speak their mother tongue, and not have it banned by the Church. Felicity explained that a few years before her birth, the Church had instigated the Law of Common Tongue, which stated that anyone caught speaking any language other than the Common Tongue would be punished. They had claimed it was for ease of conversation, so there would no longer be miscommunications, but Felicity explained to Kɧylin that it was about control. Kɧylin very quickly understood why their family had moved from Lakeland to Helafjin; the Church’s hold was less visible here, especially in their little clearing. The only sign of their power in Longtown was a small stone Church, presided over by an Eccuret named Threo.

At almost ten years old, Kɧylin was quite big for her age. She was catching up to her mother in height, and definitely bulkier. She figured she took after her father, as far as stature was concerned.

On her tenth birthday, her mother made her roasted squash soup, with a loaf of special nut bread she bought from town. She also allowed Kɧylin to have her own glass of watered down honey mead, a special brew her father had started making. The highlight of the meal was the cake, however. It was only sweetened corn bread, but Felicity had made an icing of honey and buttermilk, decorating the cake with flowers. It was the most beautiful thing Kɧylin had ever seen. She almost didn’t want to eat it. Almost.

The most meaningful gift, however, was the lesson from her mother.

“Kɧy, this is my gift to you.” Felicity held open a palm, over which a flame danced. Kɧylin’s eyes went wide, the fire dance reflected in her blue orbs.

“Mama! That’s magic!” Kɧylin gasped; she’d never actually seen magic before, but she and Clem and Rogan talked about magic all the time. Felicity laughed.

“Indeed my girl, it is. And you can do it, too.” Kɧylin’s eyes snapped to her mothers, mesmerised. Her mother was serious.

“You’ll teach me?” She asked. She knew she was asking a lot; magic was prohibited by the Church, unless the mage agreed to study at the Church Magehouse, where they would be taught to control their magic, and use it only for the Church. They professed magic was a gift from Galador, and should only be used for the bettering of his land.

Felicity laughed. “Of course I will, darling.” It was, after all, her task to teach the girl magic and history and lore. She figured if she started with the fun stuff—the magic and fire-making—the history and lore might be a bit easier to hold onto.

That was the beginning of Kɧylin’s training.

* * *

The Spring she was fourteen, their home burned down.

A storm had developed in Eagle Head Bay to the north-west, bringing strong wing and changing air pressures. This kicked off the greatest thunderstorm the north had seen in a half-century. A fire started, shortly after dawn, by a bolt of lightning striking a tree a few miles away from the clearing. It wasn’t long before the strong winds pushed the thick smoke and flames in their direction, over trees dried by the short, windy winter that did not bring much snow, disrupting their morning routine. At first, they had believed the fire to be a distant threat. That nonchalance quickly changed to fear as the smoke grew thick and black, and flame could be seen dancing distantly through the woods, growing closer and closer.

Kɧylin had never been so scared in her entire life. She looked to her parents for guidance.

“Kɧylin! Free the animals!” Felicity barked, tying a wet rag around Kɧylin’s face to prevent her from inhaling too much of the choking black smoke. “Keep two horses. Stay with them at the south end of the clearing. Wait for us. Go!” Felicity gave her a nudge in the direction of the barn. Eyes watering, Kɧylin ran.

Felicity herself made her way to the forge Harrow had built for himself. He was foolishly trying to save it.

“Harrow, we can come back for it later! We need to go!” She yelled, her voice only slightly muffled by the damp cloth around her mouth.

“What about your protection spells around the clearing? Won’t it—”

“It only works for people! It has no bearing on the elements.” She ran forward. “We need to go, now.” Her voice thundered with fear and urgency. Harrow, casting one last glance around the forge, followed her. She bolted for the house.

“You said we had to go!” He yelled after her. She ignored him, running into their yet untouched home. The fire crept steadily and rapidly closer, but she emerged just as the fire took the forge, sparks jumping from its roof to the house; only too soon the house would go up as well. She carried a small chest, which didn’t seem to be too heavy, from the way she held it with ease. Harrow took it from her, and they ran.

Meanwhile, Kɧylin freed the chickens, and pocketed what eggs she could, hoping to save something. Then she moved onto the goats, then the pigs, and finally the horses.

They had three; Milli, Lohny and Moon. Milli and Lohny were siblings, born from the same mother, Junid. She had come with them from the south, and had been with the family since before Kɧylin could remember. But three autumns ago, she’d been bitten by a snake and had died before anyone figured out what had happened. Shortly after, Harrow had purchased Moon, one of the biggest horses Kɧylin had ever seen, to help Lohny with the ploughing. The pair were a great team. Milli was the horse they used most often to go to town; she was smaller, but fleet of foot.

Kɧylin freed Moon. He didn’t need a smack on the rump to tell him to run from the encroaching flames; he was off faster than Kɧylin would have expected from such a large creature.

She didn’t bother saddling Milli and Lohny. There was no time and the horses didn’t need the extra weight while the family would be fleeing. She led them by their bridles to the south end of the clearing, as her mama had instructed. The horses followed calmly after a few commanding words laced with a bit of magic. She had an affinity for animals, something she and her mother had discovered during the first of her magic lessons. She’d even raised a wolf-cub a few years back over the winter when the mother had been killed by a poacher. The wolf showed up every now and again, and would accompany Kɧylin on hunting trips. Kɧylin had daubed her Obroya, which meant ‘shadow’ in elvish; it suited the dark furred, sneaky creature. Kɧylin hoped she was safe somewhere far away from the fire.

Once at the furthest point of the clearing, Kɧylin turned and stared at the house.

The forge was completely engulfed. Smoke was billowing from every inch of the wood, sparks flying like snow in a blizzard, but in the wrong direction, the wrong colour, stark against the blackness of the smoke which blocked out the sun.

She watched the fire progress from the forge, and it wasn’t long before the house was aflame, quickly followed by the barn and chicken coop. Within moments, her home was being devoured. All their hard work, their livelihood, it was going up in smoke.

And where were her parents? She began to choke on a rising sense of panic. They had to be fine! They wouldn’t stay in the fire, not even for Papa’s forge, his pride and joy—

There! Two figures, outlined by the smoke and flame, came running, the larger of the two carrying a trunk.

“Kɧy!” Her father yelled.

“Papa!” She took a hesitant step forward, but her mother gestured for her to move the other way as they closed the distance.

“You freed them all? The chickens, pigs, goats—”

“Gone. All free.” She replied, speaking even as she helped her mother onto Lohny’s back, her father then passing her the chest, before he himself mounted Milli. Kɧylin got on the horse behind her mother, and they were off, chased from their home by smoke and flame

Halfway to Longtown, they stopped.

It was clouding over, still windy, but moisture was filling the air. The fire was leagues behind them.

“Kɧylin, darling, I need your help.” Felicity said over her shoulder, hopping off the horse. Kɧylin followed suit, perplexed. They were free from danger for the moment but smoke and flame was still visible in the distant trees and the roar of the fire was still audible.

Harrow steered Milli around, taking Lohny’s reins from Felicity.

“Now?” He asked, a questioning look on his face. Felicity nodded, and Kɧylin felt more confused than ever, as if she was being left out of some private joke. “I’ll take Lohny and Milli, see if Moon headed this way. Like as not, that horse has already made it to town, if he followed his senses!” The big horse had left a decent trail through the forest, from what they’d seen on their escape.

Once Harrow was gone, Felicity clapped her hands together.

“Alright. Let’s see what you can do, little princess.” She unwrapped the cloth from her face, which was now crusted and blackened with soot. She rolled up her sleeves. “This is very advanced, but—”

“What are we doing?”

Felicity sighed, before giving Kɧylin one of her Looks. “Don’t interrupt, Kɧylin. You need to be more patient!” Shaking her head, she drew out the silence a moment longer than necessary, causing Kɧylin to squirm. Finally, she spoke.

“We are going to make it rain. I think you’re ready.”

“Mama, I’ve made it rain before.” Kɧylin said, as if it were the easiest thing to call the elements. Felicity shook her head.

“You’ve made it sprinkle. For less than five minutes. What we need to do is to empty that cloud,” she pointed to an ominous looking black thunderhead, “onto the forest. Not the entire forest, mind you, just the fire.” She focussed her cat eyes on her daughter, the challenge daunting even to her. “Up for it?”

“Absolutely.” Kɧylin was itching to try her hand at some big magic. But first she had a question. “Why don’t we just try to stop the fire with magic?”

Felicity smiled. “It does seem like the easier path, doesn’t it? Unfortunately, fire is a lot harder to stop once it has started. It is easier to call a spark to light than to snuff out an inferno. The same goes for rain; it’s easier to call to being something that already wishes to be, than to try to stop a downpour that is already in full swing. You can move it, shape it, but it’s hard to fully stop it. And you’ll drain your energy too fast if you try. Don’t tamper with the elements unless you have someone with you. It takes a lot out of you. Which is why I’m here to help you with this task.” She gestured to the sky. “And, it’s about to rain anyways. We just want to direct it.”

With that, she sat on the grass, heedless of the damp seeping into her clothes from the spring thaw. Kɧylin joined her, eyes fixed on her mother.

“Alright, repeat after me.” She began chanting in another language, a sort of melodic poetry that was enchanting to listen to. Kɧylin snapped to attention, copying her mother’s words and tone, the rise and fall of her voice, finding a movement, a rhythm in her body that seemed to latch onto the rhythm of the world.

Within moments, Kɧylin felt a sprinkle of rain droplets on her cheeks. She realised her eyes were closed, but didn’t remember when she had stopped watching her mother.

“Up the hills, into the forest…not here.” Her mother’s voice was a soft but urgent whisper in her ear. Kɧylin wondered, distractedly, if her mother was still performing the spell, or if Kɧylin was on her own. The question passed through the back of her mind, and she didn’t pay it a second of attention, ignoring it and instead focussing on the rhythm of the rain, its ties to the air and magic in and around her. “Concentrate; heavy rain in the trees. Think new life. Douse the fire. Quench the trees.” The urgent whisper returned, yet seemed to always be there. Was it Felicity speaking, or Kɧylin’s own thoughts?

The rain faded off her skin, she noticed, and she began to feel a great weariness creep over her, rippling like the water that had just left her skin. She kept working, weaving her spell, chanting the words. After what seemed like a moment, a simple touch on the arm brought her back. It was Felicity, grasping her shoulder. Kɧylin’s eyes opened slowly, as if she were waking from a deep slumber.

“You can stop now, Kɧy.” She said softly. Kɧylin’s eyes drooped, and if she hadn’t already been sitting, she would have done so now. Harrow was back already, and Kɧylin realised he’d been back for a while, judging by the way he was watching. She wondered how long he’d been gone, and how long they’d been sitting on the grass.

He handed her some dried beef and an apple, some food he’d managed to buy from an outlying farm by Longtown. She must have been working her spell for a while, if he had a chance to ride that close to the town. Suddenly, with the presence of food, Kɧylin was reminded of the eggs in her pocket. She thrust her hand into a pocket, and it came out sticky. In their hasty flight, all the eggs had broken.

“Oops.” She murmured, taking a bite of the apple while wiping her hand on the damp grass. It was still raining in the forest, big, heavy drops. Faded white smoke drifted over the trees. She suddenly felt very much like sleeping.

“It takes a lot out of you, doesn’t it?” Felicity sat down beside her daughter again. “I’ve told you that time and time again, but until you try a full-blown enchantment, you don’t realise how much it takes from you.” She smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind Kɧylin’s ear. “My mother gave me the same lessons, and it wasn’t until I tried my first big enchantment that I realised how much I still needed to learn.” She chuckled.

“What did you try to do?” Kɧylin asked, voice heavy, still munching on the apple. It did give her back some strength but she was still tired.

“Oh? I tried to boil water.” Felicity chuckled. “Well, a small lake, actually. I wanted to cook all the fish in it. Figured that was the fastest way to feed a large group of people.” She shook her head, a memory stirring within the depths of her eyes. “It didn’t quite work.” She didn’t go into further detail.

They sat there for a while, watching the swirling black smoke and clouds mingling above the forest begin to drift away, still raining, but not so hard.

“How did it feel?” Felicity asked finally, not staring at anything in particular, but looking out over the hills and trees. Kɧylin searched for words.

“I could…tell where the rain was falling. After a moment. Once it started falling on my face, I knew I had to push it further north. I didn’t know how to do it, but I just did it. It was like something was singing through me, in my heart…as though my heart was full of music.” She explained haltingly, slowly, trying to give words to the experience she’d just held. Of course she’d performed spells before, but nothing to this degree. What she’d done before never left her with this feeling. Sure, she’d felt the singing, but it had been more of a hum with the smaller spells. A buzzing of a bee. This was like a full choir of voices, all singing for her, to her. Telling her how everything was connected. It had been beautiful.

Glancing at her father, she realised he had found Moon, as well as a goat, two pigs and a chicken. They were all secured by a length of twine. Felicity shook her head, the movement attracting Kɧylin’s gaze.

“You’re stronger than we could have ever imagined or hoped.” She seemed in awe. Harrow came to sit with them.

“My turn now?” he patted Felicity on the leg. She nodded, and he smiled, a happy, optimistic grin. It made him look years younger. He cast his eyes on Kɧylin.

“Alright, my girl. We’ll spend the rest of the day and night in Longtown, before we head back home, see what we can salvage, clear, and start working on rebuilding—”

“You mean we’re going back?” Kɧylin gasped, suddenly feeling more awake. Harrow’s grin grew.

“Of course we are! Your training isn’t even half done.”

It took a while to clear the debris and start the foundation for their new home and the outlying buildings. Fortunately, the ground was still strong where they had started their old buildings, and they could easily rebuild on top of the old sites, once the ashes of their old life was cleared away.

The forge was salvageable. Everything wooden had burned to cinders, but Harrow’s anvil, despite being blackened by soot and smoke, hadn’t suffered badly.

“Worth every silver I paid.” Harrow said proudly, patting the large metal beast.

They began by building a rough pen, just outside where the barn would be, to hold the lost animals that Felicity spent each day tracking down. Some days, she came back with extras; a few pheasants, a wild pig. One day she even came back sporting an injured hawk on one shoulder.

“I found him in the forest, just beyond the fire. It seems as if the poor lad was trying to fly away but was harmed in his escape.” Kɧylin immediately took the bird under her proverbial wing, nursing him, eventually building a small nest for him in the rafters of the new barn. She named him Karu, the elfish word for fierce. He took to her immediately, and, once able to fly again, was her companion everywhere, for many years, until age took him.

Until the barn was finished, they slept in a very rough lean-to, built against the side of the pen. Once the barn was complete, something they accomplished much quicker with both Harrow and Kɧylin on the job, they slept in the loft of the barn, the sounds of sleeping animals below them.

Kɧylin’s muscles strained as she hoisted the rocks into place for the chimney. Sweat dripped from her hair, which had gone from its usual near-black to a rich, streaked dark auburn from the work in the sun, and collected in the small of her back. She grunted as the final rock slid into place, and wiped a trickle of moisture from her brow. Surveying her work, she climbed off the roof, to gaze upon her handiwork from the ground. Their new house was bigger than their last home, which had become quite cramped as Kɧylin was growing into adulthood. It was also nicer; the barn finished and Kɧylin no longer a child, they could suffer the elements a bit longer than the last time, while they prepared their home.

A flask was thrust at her and she drank deep the water, before handing it back to her father.

“Now it just needs the roof.” She said, planting her hands on her hips, looking over the almost-finished cottage, glad for a moments rest.

“Well don’t expect me to help. I was just offering a thirsty, hard working woman a drink.” The voice, while not her father’s, was familiar, but still alarming and unexpected. Kɧylin whirled, caught off guard, before recognizing the stranger.

“Arnel!” She grinned.

Arnel was a hunter, and a friend to the family. He popped up every couple of years, when the family least expected him. The last time Kɧylin had seen him was four years ago, shortly after her tenth birthday. He stuck around for a couple weeks, trading gossip and rumours from the rest of Galaduin with the folks of Longtown, and offering to take things to and from Longtown for the Brookes’, Kɧylin’s family. Arnel was charming, something Felicity said was dangerous; Kɧylin didn’t understand why. He was around the same age as Harrow, if not a couple years younger.

“Good to see you, Kɧylin.” He glanced around. “I heard about the fire. Glad you all managed to get out safe.” After the fire, news reached them that a small family of feran living a few miles North West of the Grove had not been as fortunate as to all get out alive.

“Yes. We’re almost done rebuilding too. It has taken a while, but we’re so close.” Kɧylin swelled with pride, knowing half the work had been done by her.

“Almost a year, I know. Your father mentioned it. Seems like you helped cut the building time by half.” He tilted his head. “You’re taller than both Felicity and Harrow now, I’d imagine. And strong as an ox, too.” He chuckled, looking at her newly finished chimney.

“Smarter than one, at least. And a mite better smelling, though perhaps not at the moment.” Felicity teased as she came out of the barn. “Hello Arnel.” She embraced him, and Kɧylin rolled her eyes when Arnel picked her up, spinning her around.

“You’ve already spoken to Harrow?” She asked after he put her down, a bit breathless.

“Yes. He can fill you in on it later.” Felicity nodded, and Kɧylin’s brow furrowed. She couldn’t remember if Arnel’s interactions with her parents had always been so cryptic or if she was just becoming aware of it now.

“So, Kɧylin, what’s say you show me that arm of yours? I remember you were beginning to be quite the archer last I was here.” Kɧylin beamed at the compliment; Arnel was an excellent archer, and it was high praise indeed to have his approval.

“I haven’t had a chance to get—or make—a new bow. And my arms might collapse after the first shot.” Kɧylin admitted sadly. Arnel made a noise.

“You can use mine. And one shot should be enough to fell a beast for supper, hm?” Kɧylin agreed, and after kissing her mother on the cheek, took off with Arnel.

“How long are you staying this time, Arnel?” Kɧylin asked as the pair made their way through the forest, treading softly on the ground.

“Only a couple days, I’m afraid.” He said with a hint of sadness. Kɧylin’s shoulders slumped, and they continued on in silence for a while, until Arnel spotted a small herd of deer. Not making a sound, he pointed through the trees, to where the creatures were grazing by a small stream.

Kɧylin nodded, nocking an arrow, before crouching down and creeping silently through the underbrush, eyes honed in on the large buck. She lined up the shot.

As she loosed the arrow, she noticed a streak of dark grey on the other side of the clearing. The buck fell, the arrow having pierced it quite neatly through the neck, and the wolf with the dark pelt was on it in a moment.

“Hey!” she yelled, jumping into the clearing. All the other deer had scarpered the moment the buck had fallen, and the wolf had appeared.

“Kɧylin!” Arnel called. “Stay away!” The wolf was huge, and Kɧylin threw herself on it.

The wolf’s jaws opened. Arnel yelled, running forward with a dagger drawn from his belt, and the wolf’s big pink tongue lapped over Kɧylin’s face.

Kɧylin giggled, and Arnel stopped short, panting.

“Obroya!” she laughed, the pink tongue coating her face and arms with wolf saliva.

“You…the beast…it’s…trained?” Arnel was shocked into speaking. Kɧylin rolled her eyes, still laughing.

“Trained is an overstatement. She is a wolf, she does as she pleases. Any friend of mine, however, she won’t attack. Put the dagger away, though. She doesn’t take kindly to weapons being drawn on her.” Arnel put the dagger back into its sheath, eyes still watching the wolf for any signs of danger. Then, hesitantly, he offered a hand for the dog to sniff and hopefully not to eat. After a second of consideration, which lasted an eternity for Arnel, Obroya allowed herself to be pet.

“Quite the creature.” Arnel admitted, scratching Obroya behind the ears as her tail thumped in happiness. Sitting, her head stopped above his waist, and was nearly five feet long, snout to tail.

“Her mum died a few years ago. Never found her pack, though, not sure they’d take her back, if her and her mum were alone. I nursed her back to health but she’s strong, probably could have made it on her own. Grown a lot since I last saw her, too.” She ruffled the wolf’s fur lovingly. “Well, got to get this buck back. Mama is going to be happy with the antlers.” They spanned nearly the width of Kɧylin’s outstretched arms.

And so, the buck strung up on a felled tree, wolf in tow, they returned to Trader’s Grove.

Next Chapter: Chapter 3: Rise of the Church