Maggie of the Mist by Madeleine M. (icecream ebook reader TXT) 📖

those who had passed and good health to those who awaited their time to cross to the Vail. Then they began to eat.

 

“How was training today? I hope that you girls were safe without Angus there to make sure you stayed in line,” Uncle Will was sending her a smug grin from across the table. The dim light from the fire gave his face a kindness that warmed Maggie.

 

“It went fine,” she replied with a grin of her own. “Vika hit an apple out of a tree branch with her daggers.” – Vika was the best knife thrower that Redd had ever trained – “I hit all my targets, and lifted a ten pound bag of potatoes doin’ that upside-down thing in the tree.” The smith laughed at that. “Why didn’t Angus come today? He didn’t tell us,” the girl asked as finished her dinner and stood.

 

“I had to run over to Denholm, to get more supplies for the latest order. Angus was goin’ to receive his letter from Redd, so he came along. It seems that Redd has a few weeks when he won’t be training and was wondering if his three scholars from home would like to come and stay awhile.” Maggie started to wash her dishes. Uncle Will appeared at her side with his. “So, would you like to go?”

 

“Uncle Will, you know very well that I can’t. Not when you’ve been getting so many new orders. Even if I did go, who will do my work?” Maggie wanted to go, really she did, but the thought of leaving her uncle alone was not something that she was willing to risk. Even if it were for just a few weeks, she couldn’t let herself do it, not after what had happened to Aunt Heather.

 

He looked at her with a questioning look in his kind eyes. Maggie turned and tried to focus on the soapy water in front of her. “Alright, but if you change your mind, know that I will be fine,” he kissed her forehead, walked over to his chair by the hearth and sat down. Maggie finished doing the dishes and placed herself, with her mending, across from her uncle in her own chair. They sat there in peaceful silence. When the fire was growing dim, Maggie put a few small pieces of wood on it before she went off to bed.

 

Up in her room, she undressed and put on her nightgown. She put her dirty clothes in a basket for washing and placed a clean set out in a chair for the next day. As she washed her face and brushed her long mane of blonde hair, she hummed the melody to the lullaby her aunt always sang to her when she was small. Sitting at her window and looking out at the black night sky filled with stars, it felt like Aunt Heather was still there, like she never left. Braiding her hair, Maggie tried to block out that terrifying memory, but when the mind is tired, darkness seems to creep in. Maggie tried to resist the urge to sleep, but as she began to lean against the wall, she knew this was a battle she would lose.

 

The smoke seemed so real. It clouded her vision. It made her cough. She could almost feel it covering her hands with grey slim. But the smoke hadn’t affected her sense of hearing. Aunt Heather’s pained breaths pierced through the smog. Again Maggie tried to break away from her uncle’s strong grip as she watched those retched boys disappear around the trees. They hadn’t done anything but stand there like good dogs told by their master to stay. She hated them. She had a slight glimmer of sympathy, though. After watching that man shoot such accusations at her beloved aunt and then run her through like a meat skewer, Maggie could understand why they didn’t dare move unless attacked themselves. That man was cruel.

 

The bow Maggie had on her back began to dig into her as she struggled to get to her dying aunt. The woman needed someone there for her. As soon as that angry redhead faded behind the green fire-lit branches, Uncle Will relaxed ever so slightly. That was her moment and she took it. Stumbling, Maggie covered the distance between the two in a heartbeat. Aunt Heather’s breaths were staggered and pained. Maggie knelt next to her; the girl’s hand went to the bleeding wound and then lifted the small woman’s head gently onto her lap. Maggie was faintly aware of her uncle’s large body approaching and kneeling in front of her. With blood stained hands, her aunt reached to the back of her own head, weakly fumbling to untie a leather band. “Lean…closer,” her words were quiet and strained.

 

Tears blurring her vision, Maggie bowed her head so that her forehead was resting on Aunt Heather’s chest. She felt the callused hands tie the thin leather into a knot at the back of her neck, and the unexpected weight of the pendant that hung there. As she straightened, Maggie saw a shiny stone the same size as her palm with a hole near the top and the leather strung through it. She cradled the rock in one hand. She felt its smoothness when she caressed it with her thumb. “Aunt Heather, what is this? I don’t think I understand.”

 

“It is a gift… Megs. Made by the first… the First Family,” the small woman’s breath was staggered. Colours draining from her face each passing moment. Maggie had so many questions. Who is the First Family? Why did that man call you a traitor? Am I the girl that you are hiding? What is going on? “When… the time is right, you will know...you will know what to do. It will guide you.” Aunt Heather’s eyes shifted slowly away from Maggie. “Protect her… William. And when the time is right… you must tell her to go.” Maggie looked into her uncle’s face seeing her own sadness reflecting back in his eyes. Carefully, she maneuvered the dying woman into the arms of her beloved. They needed what little time there was left together.

 

Rising, Maggie walked around and collected the blades that had been her aunt’s only weapon. She needed something to help keep her mind busy and this was as good as any. All was fine until she found it. The blasted thing was lodged a tree, but she still managed to see it.  Using a hand to brace herself, Maggie pulled the red tipped blade from the rough bark. This had been the cause of the boy’s fury, and her loosed arrow. It was also the only one that had done any damage to the attackers. She clutched it making her knuckles turn white. If she ever met those boys and that beast again, they would wish–

 

“Maggie,” Uncle Will called quietly. “She wants to talk with you.” Maggie kept her death grip on the blade and ran back to the only family she ever knew. The family that was now falling apart.

 

With weak knees, Maggie knelt next to Aunt Heather and took the cold out-stretched hand. “I’m here.” She whispered through tears. Maggie couldn’t tell if it was Aunt Heather’s hand that was shaking, or her own.

 

“The path set before you… will have many challenges. Be brave… be strong… and don’t let fear control…” Aunt Heather’s freezing fingers went to Maggie forehead. The words danced on weak breaths. With slow and painful movements, Aunt Heather clasped the hands of husband and niece. Looking them both in the eye she breathed, “I love you… both.” Then her eyes dimed with the arrival of the Vail’s Guard, and her grip on Maggie’s hand went limp.

 

Maggie woke with a start. She was sitting on her window sill. Tears blurred the late night stars and streamed down her hot cheeks. She sniffed and wiped at the small salty rivers. Her hand instinctively went to the stone hanging around her neck. The surface that rested against her skin was warm while the exposed side was cold from the draft through the window pane. Forcing her stiff muscles to move, Maggie made her way to her wash stand to wipe her face. She folded back her quilt and settled into her bed. She knew that soon she would have to leave, whether she liked it or not.  What would happen when her time came and if she was ready were the last things that crossed Maggie’s mind as she drifted into a dreamless sleep.

Chapter 4

Seaver had been jumpy since he got back with the new sword. At first it seemed like he was just over tired, but then he began to fidget and pace. Keith had heard the old man up all hours of the night crashing and banging as he tripped over things in the dark. But Seaver’s restlessness wasn’t what had kept Keith from sleeping that night. He had his sword, his bags were packed, and the horses were to be ready to go by dawn – with food, clothes, and other supplies they would need for the journey. The only thing Keith hadn’t prepared was he himself. He did not want to go off adventuring. He had only agreed to go so that he could keep Daileas out of trouble, and that itself, would be an adventure.

 

Blowing his red fiery hair out of his eyes, his breath creating a white cloud in the chill air, Keith sat up in bed. Moonbeams flooded through the large window in his room, pooling on the floor by the foot of his bed. The Maiden’s light made the cold, hard flagstones sparkle. He shivered as the cold from the floor seeped into his bare feet. A draft drifted across his uncovered chest and back, and penetrated the light leather pants he wore on his legs. Silently, Keith cursed the cool spring as he pulled on the shirt he wore to train, a jacket to keep out the morning chill and a warmer pair of bottoms. He needed to settle his nerves. He walked into a small room off of his bedroom, rubbing his arms for warmth. Glancing around the small area of his personal armoury – it had been his nursery before he was aloud weapons – he searched for his new blade. Keith knew that he would need to practice with it before he really needed to use it, and now was as good a time as any.

 

Finding it on a small table against the wall, he then slipped on his light chainmail. Keith sighed in annoyance when he realized that the metal links just barely covered his torso. He would need to order more, again. Why is it that whenever I need these things they are too small? The Warrior must enjoy embarrassing me. Keith thought rolling his eyes. With his boots laced, jacket done up under the too small chainmail and sword belt slung over his shoulder, Keith stepped noiselessly into the hallway. He tiptoed past Daileas’s door, slid down the banister to the main floor and sprinted with muffled steps due to the soft leather of his boots out into the tilt yard.

 

The grounds were empty. Not even