Charis stared down at the familiar traveller, her hands gripped the tree branches, white knuckles on display. She failed to resist this familiar urge as the stranger in the forest, right before her eyes, slit Halius’ throat. She sensed it again on the steps of the Inn, strong feelings of friendship, reconnecting with a long-lost friend and the chance to renew their shared unbreakable trust. Charis knew this to be false, her mind screamed against the emotion and the compulsion to leap down and greet him.

The choices she considered played their part as deliberately concentrating on those choices, to stay, to attack or to greet him kept her mind busy. This indecision caused further delay. Distance finally saved her, she remembered when she stood in front of the Inn and walked back the first time, fortunately, this time his frustration and anger carried him quickly past her and his influence followed him. Looking down she realised their distance apart when compared to the Inn would have placed her inside the Inn. Tree or not Charis completely miscalculated the range of his influence, and she fervently thanked all of the seven Gods for her luck.

---

Otonia pleaded, “Oh, I am so glad you are back. I am your friend I wouldn’t go anywhere. I would have prepared some lunch for us while waiting if I could. Please untie the ropes. We are dearest friends.”

Charis listened and realised she could have easily been in the same position, the craving, the coercion to greet your long-lost friend, to please them in everything regardless of your own common sense. He tied Otonia up, left her at the mercy of the forest for half a day and she still considered him her friend. It made Charis wonder if it came to a fight would Otonia side with the traveller or her real friend. The elder’s word haunted Charis at that moment.

“I don’t know if I can be friends with a liar?” he shouted offended.

“Liar? I am not a Liar, I am your friend, you know I am …” she yelped.

“Your other friend must not be that good a friend of yours, she has left the village. Such a good friend as you describe I would expect to follow us to find you and join us. We would make a good team of three and now I am sadly disappointed. Especially in you, who claimed to be my good friend?”

“I thought she was, maybe not as good a friend like yourself. She said we would travel together to the city, and someone doesn’t say that and not mean it.”

Charis was in position. She needed an edge to slow him down at the very least; fully fit he would defeat her easily. The tree branches and leaves obscured his upper body, so her only opportunity was his legs. Covered in leather breaches she wondered if the arrow’s fire-hardened points would penetrate. They could only purchase arrows from the hunter, and he made his own.

She pulled back on her bow, fly true, and bite into him my arrow she willed. Warmth effused behind her belly button as she knowingly called upon her magic and let her arrow fly.

“Crap that hurt! Looks like your friend is here!” he said, ignoring the hurt and concentrating on the prize.

He swivelled to face his attacker using the arrow as a vague line of direction and then pulled the arrow out of his left leg easily. The traveller swore again as another arrow struck his right leg. This time he fell to the ground as it bit deeper, so he crawled closer to a nearby tree to take cover behind it. He quickly bound the wound in his first leg and while preparing to pull the arrow from the second wound, she stood in front of him, a confused look upon her face. He knew the look and smiled, I am sure you remember me, we are old friends, the best of friends he willed.

Charis knew to keep her distance, unfortunately, she failed. She assumed most targets would retreat and crawl away from the direction of the arrows. He crawled closer! Could she release another arrow and kill him while he was at her mercy?

Why would she want to? This is her good friend from the Inn. She didn’t greet him then for some unknown reason and felt an immediate sadness. This time though would be different. Shouldn’t she be aiding her badly wounded friend? Did she do that? Why did she do that?

“Charis please don’t hurt my friend, I am sure we could all be friends, we just need to talk!”

Charis glanced at Otonia and when she turned back to check her injured new friend a rock glanced off the side of her head. Charis collapsed.

---

As she regained her senses, he was on top of her, her bow and quiver tossed to the side, the second arrow no longer in his leg. Blood oozed slowly from the second wound.

“You bitch! I won’t be able to walk proper for days now. I know the perfect punishment though. They limit what they give me. Me! For years, I do their bidding. Now thanks to your little friend I can access some real magic!”

He grasped a knife from his boot sheath. It was a special type of knife which Charis knew well and upon recognition, some vivid memory screamed at her to struggle, now, the more the better, it didn’t matter he was her friend. No friend would hurt her like this or wield one of those knives. One of those knives slit the throat of Halius, her memory of his death, how and by who crystallised the fog in her mind.

“Settle young one, I am searching for something in particular before I take my usual pleasure.”

When he spoke to her, his voice reminded her of their friendship regardless of the words. Why she asked herself.

He clawed at Charis’ right breast with his left hand, deliberately searching for something. Not finding it, he slashed at the binding and as Charis’ small breasts released, he grasped at the right breast flesh, trying to find something he was certain would be there.

“I hate you bitches, liars, surrounded by liars!”

“No, I am not, she has a silver circle in her right breast, and she showed it to me, it must be there. I swear!” shouted Otonia sobbing.

“Where is it bitch?” he yelled, as he stared directly into Charis’ blue eyes feeding on the fear, he recognised within them.

“I am your friend, aren’t I? You could just ask, instead you hurt me. My head hurts and you bruised my breast for sure. I am sure gentle teasing would be nicer,” Charis responded, not understanding why she didn’t fight him.

“You are hurt, what are you talking about? Are you insane? You are about to die you silly young bitch, as you have completely pissed me off. I want to see you dead. I can’t even be bothered playing with you first! You were my pathway to power, to escape them and now I must continue to do their bidding. Bitch!” He screamed at her now, his face red with anger and two fists waving above her one around a special knife.

The traveller blinked. He shook his head slightly as things started to circle about him. The knife dropped from his grasp as he used his hands to steady his head. Lowering one hand upon the ground to steady himself he used the other hand to hold onto Charis down, aiming for her shoulder. He missed, grabbing her left breast instead. He went wide-eyed and smiled as he finally felt the prize. His fingers explored the ground beside Charis feeling for the knife and he started to gently lean towards that side. Then naturally he tried to correct, unfortunately over correcting causing his hand to slip off Charis’ left breast. The sudden difference, prone body to the ground, propelled him further left until he fell completely off his prey.

Charis wondered why her friend was yelling at her. Moreover, he hurt her when he was on top of her, didn’t he know how heavy he was? For a while, she couldn’t breathe without difficulty, and he grabbed her so roughly her breast still hurt. She slowly sat up and noticed his leg bleeding. Oh, he is hurt.

“Charis, look after our friend, don’t let him lose blood.” Otonia’s head nodded furiously at the traveller ignoring the lacerations she made on her neck as she did. “Look his leg is bleeding, you must bandage him!” she pleaded.

Charis searched him for some more bandages. She didn’t find any bandages in his camp or on him; then she noticed his ear lobes, a bronze ring in each of them. They held her attention, she could see only them, all her other senses shut down. Did she know them, where from? It was important; she knew it was, why? She ignored Otonia’s annoying chatter.

“Charis, stop starring, he is bleeding, our friend is bleeding, find some bandages quickly!”

Halius, she remembered Halius, the bronze earrings, or loops, the man who slew him in cold blood wore one of them. Such a man murdered her childhood friend, her one true friend. Charis bent forward, she reached out in slow motion grasping both bronze loops and yanked them both from the man’s ears. He stirred faintly from the pain, no more than that. One in each hand, she studied them, the reflected sunlight glinting off them pierced her mind, a fleshy bloodied portion of fresh ear lobe still attached to each.

Charis awoke from the spell of deceit as if struck by a lightning bolt. A dread realisation dawned upon her; death walked close to her this day. She felt her physical hurts, the pain real enough. The fog of false friendship was also a tangible thing, not pain more like a pressure, surpassing her will and she felt a very real sense of release. The return of her freedom of choice was a rewarding and welcome result.

“Charis, why am I tied up? I hurt all over,” whimpered Otonia.

Charis laughed loudly, not at Otonia, the laugh being a survivor’s laugh, pure relief to be alive instead of dead. She stared at Otonia apologising after regaining her senses.

Charis found his knife and drew it across his throat, slowly and easily watching his flesh part. The stream of red from the wound flowed down his neck and then upon the ground. Blood for blood. For Halius, no thinking was required! For Halius, her memory of him saved her! The traveller gurgled slowly on his own blood and Charis caught herself enjoying the sight, an animal was dead. Did her enjoyment of his death make her evil she wondered? She didn’t question him; he would need to live longer than he deserved for an interrogation. She tried to contain the joyful satisfaction within her; after all, she was a vigilante now; judge, jury, and executioner. She couldn’t contain her joy, justice for Halius rang in her head; she dealt judgement for a change.

How could something that felt so justified be evil?

The knife easily cut the ropes binding Otonia and while still hurting, she hugged Charis for a long time. Charis asked her to sit, urgently and immediately.

“I hear a noise, lay back against the tree, something I missed, maybe another partner we don’t know about!” she whispered. Otonia silently sobbed as she slunk back to her place of pain.

Charis grabbed for her bow and quiver. She crept into some brush near the camp to wait in hiding. The noise came from behind Otonia, so Charis repositioned herself to be able to see either side of Otonia’s tree, drawing back an arrow in a bow, ready to release at whatever flashed into view.

“Please don’t skewer me with one of your arrows,” the elder declared.

"How did you miss his trap?” Charis asked surprised, running to the sound of her voice.

"By being careful, although being small helped more!"

When she appeared, Charis was so relieved she hugged her and picked her up, trembling from what she survived; adrenaline still pumping through her body. Then … she gently put her back down.

“We must all leave. The smell of death is about this place. You can see the markings on Otonia’s tree, it was a favourite place for his prisoners it seems. We must be gone and back to the village before nightfall. Come on girl get up, I know you are in pain. If you dally here, you will die, I am sure of it. Have you seen any bones?” The elder spread her arms from her body by way of emphasis.

Charis and Otonia stared at the old woman in confusion.

“A killer such as him would collect many victims over the years yet no bodies and no bones, just the smell of death!” the elder urged them to activity.

“My name is Otonia, and I know the danger we are in, I just need a minute to find my boots if nothing else otherwise I will find it difficult to make the distance with cut feet.”

Charis gaped at her, surprised; Otonia transformed from victim to survivor very quickly.

Charis searched for the other knife; it wasn’t on him, so she searched carefully around the camp. The other one carried two and so would this one, a certainty; the second one secreted in his backpack. She didn’t need to check for a special pouch, they only gave pouches to the ones without ambition. What she did find though was a very full coin pouch, without counting a coin she tied it off and added it to her backpack with everything else. She could count it when they were all somewhere safer.

“Come here, child.”

Charis turned and the elder had removed all his clothes, including his boots. The elder tapped her shoulder and Charis knew what to do, time to power a spell. When finished, his body disappeared now blended into the earth. The elder then threw a handful of seeds to the centre of the newly turned over soil.

“The spell was used in times past to return offal and animal waste to the ground, a natural process hastened. Excellent fertiliser so I threw down a few seeds to make use of it.”

Charis paused in awe for a moment.

She grabbed his backpack from Charis, gathered up all his clothes, put them in his backpack, and then gave it back to Charis to carry. The elder carried his string instrument and flute. Otonia was ready also. Looking back Charis witnessed several small trees growing. She queried the elder.

“Apple trees are always welcomed by the earth and some haste lingers from the spell.”

Charis made a point of disarming the trap the traveller set within the choke point, which was the only task other than walking as fast as they could they did. They needed to wait for Otonia to catch up occasionally, which suited Charis given the load she carried. The elder was smiling, constantly smiling in fact, throughout the journey back.

The sun was setting as they reached the outskirts of the village. The elder took them on a seemingly round about path back to her cottage. Somehow, once they were inside, they felt safe. The flimsy walls seemed to offer a protection far above what they really could. Perhaps if they couldn’t see the danger approaching, then it wasn’t real. Charis couldn’t explain the emotional comfort and warmth.

Shown to the loft, Otonia crashed to sleep as soon as she lay down. Charis did her a small charity and removed her boots.

“We will need to dig up the floor, deep enough to hide all his gear,” the elder said turning to Charis. “We must convince whoever misses him and comes enquiring after him, I defeated him, they cannot link his death to you and you must never speak of his death willingly to anyone else, a secret shared is a secret no more. You understand my dear?”

Charis shifted uneasily from one foot to the other; did she hear the elder properly?

“You could be hunted down and killed, for something I did,” Charis whispered in reply, not really knowing why she did, it was just, well they were talking about secrets.

“I’ve lived my life, mostly full and honest, although resentful I possessed a book of spells and couldn’t cast a single spell from it as my family did before me. You changed that, for these two days I was a user of magic, and I am so grateful. Such a wondrous joy. You are the future, only you are young enough to learn and take the fight to them, whoever they are. I am happy to remain, confuse them, and put them off your trail. The ointment I gave you for your arrows can be strengthened and if I take a cupful, it will kill me before they can make use of any knowledge I may have.”

Charis teared and her chin quivered.

“Don’t mourn for me, I am happy and satisfied with the role I may need to play.”

“How can I ever thank you?”

The elder seized Charis by her shoulders with all her strength and stared directly into her eyes.

“Learn, master your magic, and defeat them! Cleanse this world of their filth and save as many of their victims before they become victims is how you can thank me.”

At her release, Charis needed to offer the elder help.

“I could gift you his bronze loops, they’re in my backpack,” said Charis.

“No, the strong magic on them is for one purpose and I don’t want the attention of others by suddenly gaining many friends.” The elder pushed the offered loops away with her hands, refusing the offer.

“As it is, with you and Otonia there will be enough lies to tell to allow my life to return to the way it was before, an old lady selling herbals and cures,” the elder continued.

“Yes, he wanted to escape his one purpose so much he searched for the silver circle with a possessed sort of vigour as my bruised breast proves. What about a few coins from his coin pouch elder in case of emergency or for a few luxuries, if you did kill him, you would be expected some sudden wealth, wouldn’t you?” Charis offered.

The elder smiled in agreement and took what was useful and pushed back the rest.

“You two girls will need them for the long journey ahead and coins will benefit you more,” the elder suggested. “If you are in the mood to help though, please follow this old lady around the perimeter of her cottage.”

When the elder finished, the silver circle throbbed with warmth within Charis’ breast as it gave up its store of magic, as did the green gem. Charis covered the discomfort as much as she could and then she wondered how long it would take to replace the magic taken. Charis was tempted to ask the elder to cast some more magic to see if the circle and the gem were exhausted, including the bronze loop on her toe in the test, but decided against it. When she became proficient, she could find out for herself.

They entered the cottage and started digging a hole.

“You couldn’t magic a hole, could you?” Charis asked finishing with a smile.

“No, apart from the fact your magic is about spent from my use, I don’t know a spell to dig a hole or move a grain of soil, a spell exists to work stone though, my ancestors used to be called upon to lay foundation stones. They require more magic as they’re pushing the real world out of its present shape. The spells I cast about the cottage were harm warnings, wall strengthening, roof strengthening, and finally a little tonic of health for me to roll back some years. These spells were returning the worn out, to not be so worn out, so much easier in effort and magic required.”

“So, digging it is,” Charis quipped.

“At least I can dig with you now and my back won’t protest, well not as much as it did yesterday at least.”

They returned smiles and started.

All his goods and chattels, including his backpack, went into the hollow which they backfilled and stomped down. The heaped left-over soil would be disposed of some future morning. They excluded a few general items like food, so they could be disposed of elsewhere. The flute and backpack they buried together with the flute on top, easily available if the elder needed something to sell.

The string instrument was a different story, it was too large to bury, so they slowly cut it to pieces, his knives made the task easy, they were very sharp and cut through the wood construct with only a modest amount of effort.

“At last, the base is open,” Charis said.

“Yes, look at what is inside?”

They found a false bottom and lifting it revealed several letters of introduction and recommendation, to not only Lords but also Churches, Magicians and Merchants.

“He kept the most important so he could use them if required to gain entry perhaps or call-in favours in case of accusers,” the elder mused.

“Keep them Charis they could be worth more than gold if you need to know the names of important people along the way.”

“The Letters of Introduction I would like to return to the parents of the children they were taken from to explain their death and allow them to morn properly. I wouldn’t know where half of these places are and who to return them to though,” Charis said.

“Time for tea my dear. You could use that nice wood there to feed the fire I reckon.”

Slowly the stringed instrument was destroyed by flame, to be lost forever and when the traveller's coin pouch, now empty, followed it into the fire the last obvious object of the traveller vanished from plain view. Given the number of letters, Charis wondered how many more, less important ones this evil threw away. How many youths did he murder over the years?

The elder positioned her chair close to Charis as they sipped the freshly prepared tea.

“You can’t go asking about the youths on the letters, your interest would attract attention and other agents of this evil would want to talk to someone who was asking such questions, I am sure. Relatives may think you were the agent of their child’s death and chase you as well with unpredictable results. So, while I appreciate your good intentions, my dear, I would suggest they must all remain our secret.”

“I understand however to not know, as a parent I mean. My father is probably worried about me now and it has been only a few days, although more days than we have ever been apart before.”

There was a quiet then, a moment between the old and the new, which Charis broke first.

“Elder, what year is this?”

“Well, it is sometimes difficult to tell as each Duke proclaims the start of his reign as year one and unless the current one has been replaced, I would say it is the fourteenth year of his most worthy Lord Duke, given Death Season has just passed.”

“Some of these are dated after the fourteenth year, which means they were stolen before the current Duke started his reign, so his father? How long has this evil walked the land elder?”

“Yes, my dear, now you know my pain, witness only, unable to do anything, until now of course thanks to you.”

She reached for Charis’ hands, held them tightly for a moment, and then released them. Charis thought she noticed moisture around the elder’s eyes before she turned away.

Over tea, the elder taught Charis the hand movements for the harm-warning spell and practised some castings, which succeeded about half the time. One of the simpler spells suited for people who lived in the less civilised parts of the Dukedom, to protect themselves from surprises while they slept under the dark of night. Simple hedge magic if you could power the spell.

What the elder didn’t tell Charis was the teaching was a test, even with hedge magic not all in the land could cast spells. Charis being able to cast hedge magic spells meant she could learn and cast greater magic if trained confirming the elder’s original sense of how special Charis could be. The other nugget of information concerned the harm warning spell specifically, men couldn’t cast it, only women. It seemed there existed a balance in the world that recognised women being alone in the world had more reasons to fear and required warning of it.

“Be sure to cast the harm warning spell when you are alone, as waving your arms and manipulating your fingers in strange ways will be viewed with suspicion by most and you don’t need fearful people watching your unusual behaviour!” the elder advised.

Charis nodded and then the elder started teaching the hair colour spell. It was simpler, required more magic given it was fighting the natural state, although the hair is dead so the change could last.

“I would advise you to adopt the peasant hair colour, it is more common of course, and your dark earth brown colour is unusual, very rare I would say.”

She then handed her raven feather to Charis.

It took most of the evening to learn enough of both spells to continue practising without guidance, so it was time they retired for the night.

The elder glanced up at Otonia.

“Well looks like only the floor of the cottage is free to sleep on tonight. I need to make sure you young ones sleep here in future. My old bones need all the care they can get!”

+++

They awoke from their uncomfortable ground beds before Otonia. The tea was prepared and ready by the time Otonia half stumbled down from the Upper Floor bedding. Being last, Otonia volunteered under protest to empty the chamber pot, much to her disgust. Mollified somewhat by the hot cup of tea waiting for her.

“Charis, you need to travel as a girl and with your change of hair colour this should be easier,” the elder said, after sipping her tea.

“My letter of introduction is for a male apprentice, not a female?” Charis replied.

“Find a scribe, for a small fee he will change the name into the feminine form, all done.”

“Another thing, elder, I, well, I am, not really a whole woman, I am unblessed,” Charis stammered.

Charis slowly locked eyes with the elder to receive her judgement, although Otonia was first to react.

“How is that possible? You were born, weren’t you? The midwife usually calls upon the blessing from the Goddess Mara everybody knows that. What does it mean to be unblessed?”

“Quiet now Otonia. You do get excited at times,” admonished the elder. Placing her hands upon her lap the elder continued, “Not all children are born in the presence of a midwife, although I know some mothers can call for the blessing for their newborn. Charis knows she will be unable to give birth and other womanly things will not flourish or inconvenience her, shall we say.”

Otonia sat stunned trying to comprehend the elder’s words, like flourish, and inconvenience, her face frowned in concentration.

“You would need to visit a Temple of Mara to possibly change this. Although I am not sure, it is important, unless you intend to marry and birth children. I rather hoped you would be too busy to do that.”

Her eyes crinkled at the corners.

Charis’ wasn’t sure either, of course.

“Just so you know, the magic would be painful. Have you ever wondered why babies cry when they’re born? The females receive their blessing, and the midwives slap the males to make them cry at least once in their lives! Or so I am told.” The elder chuckled.

“Do you know how painful?”

“Well, a newborn girl child cries when blessed, this is your sixteenth Death Season, so some catching up needs to be done, you must still pay the full price,” the elder replied.

“A great deal of pain, then?”

“You may be too late, in your sixteenth year your body is maturing and near complete, so I imagine an unbearable amount of pain if at your age it is still possible.”

Otonia was interested in so many ways she forgot to say what she thought after finally working out what flourished and inconvenienced meant for a woman and remained quiet instead. A huge achievement, which none in the cottage acknowledged.