Spring ? 7 ? 4 Hexerei

  Josie had not realized how ravenous she had been until Beck set the bowl in front of her.

  The dish, though just as delicious as Nan's, contained unfamiliar ingredients - particularly the mushrooms, which Josie had never seen before. She figured it made sense; they'd have to rely on what was available in this place, wherever ‘here’ was. While she tucked in, Nan told about the goings-on at Veilwood and the descriptions of what the house had done made Hepzibah listen with intent. Of yet greater interest to her was the tale about how Glubsch had come to Josie. Nan did most of the talking, with the occasional nod or short comment from the girl. There were Kn?del to be had, and she was still hungry. When Nan had finished her report, Josie could not take another bite, so her mind returned to the current matters, and she took the first opportunity she got to ask the most pressing questions on her mind.

  “Nan, you brought me here to find help with my magic - but I still don’t understand why. And where are we? I have never heard the name ‘Fae Wilds’ before, and clearly, the portal took us to yet another place. I would really like to know what's going on,’ the girl blurted, blushing as she noticed the taken aback looks of the three adults. “Please?” she added with a more moderated tone.

  “Well, the decision of whom to seek out first has been taken out of my hands,” Nan answered. “Regarding magic, I am not the right person to ask, and I wondered if you might take on the role of mentor once again, Cousin,” the old woman asked the Witch, hope written over her tired features.

  Hepzibah took a moment to react, tapping her long and slender fingers on the wooden table while she mustered Josie with an inquisitive gaze. “Well, I can answer at least one of your questions for now. After Agatha taught you how to cross over, you came into the Fae Wilds. This is simply a term for all the parts of Faie that have no other, more specific name. By travelling through my doorway, you came to the Lands of everlasting Autumn, and are right now in a village near the Vermillion Ur, an unimaginably old and vast forest. It borders the Lands of Spring, where Elfhame lies, the Summer Reach with the Eternal Lake, and the Fells around the Mountain Mother Erednan, where Winter never ceases.”

  Josie’s eyes went wide at this stream of new information, and yet she refrained from asking for more, desperate for knowledge as she might be.

  “And now to your request, Agatha. I must say that I am indeed most intrigued by all of this,” the Witch admitted. “Although we will have to see about her magic before I am able to decide if she can be taught. This will have to wait until tomorrow, as I am of the opinion that your ward could do with a bit of context first. The hour is already late, so we will talk for a bit to enlighten the girl, and after she has had a good rest, I will find out about her abilities, tomorrow,” she told Nan, who simply nodded.

  “Do you need anything else, little one?” Beck asked while he put a thick, woollen blanket around Josie’s narrow shoulders. The girl smiled up at him and shook her head.

  “No need to cuddle her,” Hepzibah chuckled. “I imagine, she might just be as resilient as she is feisty - which she all but has to if Agatha is her guardian.” The red haired Witch’s narrowed eyes assessed Josie, which Nan answered with a deep but quiet scowl.

  “I will do as I please, and even if you might for once be helpful to anyone - with your knowledge of the craft, at least - do not mistake my hospitality tonight as a renewed welcome for yourself, Charmer,” Beck rumbled at the Witch.

  Josie wondered why he seemed so opposed to both of the women, yet held her tongue to ask about it. Now, she wanted to hear about magic.

  “Aye, you have always been quite adamant about your opinions. I remember,” Hepzibah teased Beck, but refrained from saying more to the man. Instead, she looked at Josie and seemed to gather her thoughts.

  “So, does your ward know about the true history and heritage of Veilwood, Cousin?”

  “Nothing of the craft, and apart from recent occurrences, nothing of Magikin or the Uncanny,” Nan said and Josie perked up at the mention of the new and unfamiliar words.

  “Then let us begin with our shared roots, Cousin, shall we?” the Witch nodded at Nan, but immediately turned her attention back to Josie. "Our ancestors - Agatha’s and mine - have deep roots in der Hexerei, or Witchcraft," Hepzibah began, steepling her fingers. She paused, her face growing thoughtful. “Over the generations, many magical talents flourished in our family, though most were healers, diviners, or seers. The mountainous region in Germany we hail from breeds a… particular kind of people. They can be very closed off, sometimes to a point they behave hostile towards foreigners or the unfamiliar. Even things or persons they do know fall victim to this prejudice, if they dare to deviate too far from what is thought of as normal. Superstitions have caused untold harm,” Hepzibah said, her face grim. “Through misled beliefs outsiders were not only shunned, but even worse resulted - and so came the gruelling Witch Hunts, resulting in torture, persecutions and the infamous burning of the convicts at the stake. Those were dark times for people to be considered special, when special could also be interpreted as unnatural - as having uncanny powers, like a Witch. I am still unsure how the name “Witch” became equivalent to “evil”, but, alas, that is what happened.”

  Josie clenched her fists, anger bubbling up in her stomach. “We discussed it briefly in history class in school, but I read quite a lot of material on this. I am glad those times are over. But did they actually come after your family?”

  “Ha, they damn well tried,” Hepzibah scoffed and earned another dark scowl from Nan for her choice of words. She shrugged the judgement off, unfazed. “You see, those with real magic had ways to stay hidden or to escape. The Witch Hunts targeted most of all people who did not quite fit in, or who were in the way of someone else. If a person wanted or needed another gone, accusing them of practising Witchcraft was an almost guaranteed way to be rid of an enemy. I am very sad to say this, but while those trials were, of course, a ghastly and terrible practice in the first place, they seldomly managed to catch actual Witches or magic users. Those who were caught were just poor mundane souls most times; singled out for peculiarities, their talents as midwives or healers or simply for being at the wrong place at the wrong time,” the red haired woman sighed. “Well, the family lived through these times mostly unscathed, but when another conviction in a nearby town saw a woman sentenced to death for Witchcraft, my part of the family left the homeland. They were actual practitioners due to their inherent magic, who chose to migrate not just because of the threat, but also to find new lands that were richer in natural magic. They didn’t know then that this would, in fact, be the last Witch Trial, and that none would follow after.”

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  “How so,” Josie asked. “Why leave when they had magic of their own?” The girl shook her head after realizing what she had just said. “I can’t believe I am talking about all this like it's normal. Everything’s gone topsy-turvy,” she mused, her little nostrils flaring.

  “All this must be quite the surprise for you,” said Beck, his words gentle and soothing, like the enormous hand he laid on top of Josie’s. It looked ridiculously small in comparison. “Especially if Aga has never told you anything before.”

  “There are a few rules and restrictions to magic, you should know,” Hepzibah said, ignoring Beck. “While magic can, of course, do many marvellous things, it can also elongate your life span. The actual amount depends on how much magic flows through your veins, which means the more magic you have, the longer your life will be. Does have a nice ring to it, does it not?” the Witch addressed Josie.

  “Living longer could be a good thing, I think. More time to learn interesting things, or explore the world, or - imagine all the books I could read!” the girl exclaimed as her imagination flared up.

  “Now hold up there, because nothing comes for free. As with most things, there is a downside to this,” Hepzibah reigned Josie’s enthusiasm in. “In turn, magic is vital for magical entities and practitioners, who we call ‘Magikin’. They - we - need it around us to survive. For each individual, the gravity and impact of a low magic saturation, or worse, its absence, is tied to how magical they are.” She thought for a moment, tapping her long and slender fingers on the table. “To put it in simple terms: If you are magic, you need to live with and in magic. You need it like food and water, or air. If there is not enough around, you become magic starved, and, in the worst case, perish because of it.”

  “And what does that mean, perish?” Josie wanted to know, wide-eyed and anxious. Was this something she also needed to fear now?

  “Your body withers, and your mind fades as your own magic does, until there is nothing left. You would die,” Nan answered to everyone’s surprise. “It is one of the reasons I brought you here, because we need to know what to expect for you in the future, and if staying at Veilwood is even safe for you any more.” The old woman's expression was strained, her voice hoarse and subdued. “I knew that if we could manage the passage over to Faie, here would be enough magic to sustain you.”

  Josie gulped and managed a slow nod, the implications sinking in. After reeling for a moment, she looked to Hepzibah.

  “Please tell me the rest of the story,” the girl said, her voice trembling the slightest bit, but determination steeling her gaze.

  “Well, with the help of other practitioners, my ancestors found their way to what is Brigspeel nowadays, and settled at Veilwood. These lands have always held a special importance for the Magikin and the Uncanny. See, the ‘Veil’, which separates the different planes of existence and also gave the home its name, was so thin there that any kind of magic was especially potent. In turn, it meant also that it drew all sorts of entities, as it provided a convenient and easy point to travel between different planes. This was, in fact, the reason no one else had settled there before, but our family, was always a bit headstrong, I guess,” the Witch smiled, pride colouring her words. “Either way, they built a new life there and for generations, the Veilwood branch of the family thrived. Life for them was laborious, but quiet and good, and over time, they became part of the rural community - even if they still were considered as odd foreigners, due to their heritage. They managed to grow Veilwood into a sizable homestead by working the lands and tending to their crops with knowledge brought from the homeland and their magical talents. Unfortunately, in other parts of the world, turmoil was brewing - and then came the great war.” Hepzibah glanced at Nan, but the old woman shook her head.

  “This is enough, Hepzibah,” she said, her tone final. “That is a story for another time, we have more pressing matters to attend.”

  “But I want to know the rest!” Josie protested, although she already knew Nan would stay adamant.

  “And know it you will,” Nan calmed the girl down. “But not today. We need to determine a course of action, and prepare you for what is to come.”

  “Speaking of prepared,” the Witch perked up. “You still have something of mine, I believe.”

  “Ah. Of course,” Nan nodded and slid the small, embroidered satchel over the table, which she had used to open the portal before. It was not glowing any more and seemed to be empty now.

  “Oh, yes! What is that?” Josie asked while her eyes wandered once more over the familiar seeming embroidery pattern. “Do people here use those to travel?”

  “That, my dear, is the Ember Pouch, and while it is, indeed, used to create doorways - or portals, as you called them, there remains but this one,” Hepzibah told Josie. “My family crafted the Ember Pouches at Veilwood, back when they were at the peak of their powers. It took the combined efforts of their strongest members to make them,” she explained, and all of a sudden the pride apparent on her face turned dark and sorrowful. “It is the only magical heirloom of my family that survived the Burning of Veilwood, the last thing I have left of my home.”

  Josie froze. Veilwood had burned? Her eyes jerked towards Beck and Nan, but both averted their eyes and stayed silent. Before she could ask about it, the Witch spoke up again.

  “On a lighter note,” Hepzibah said, “May I talk to your companion?”

  “Uhm, sure…” the girl trailed off, doubtful about the outcome. Glubsch had been very quiet since they had passed over, and before that, only Josie herself had been able to talk to him. “But Nan said, just I can hear him,” she added and looked at her cat, who had wandered over to the fireplace and settled on one of the throw-covered stools.

  When Glubsch noticed Josie’s attention, he began to purr and continued even as his head jerked towards Hepzibah, who slowly wandered over to him.

  “What beautiful eyes you have,” the Witch told Glubsch. “May I pet you?”

  Glubsch squinted at the woman's fingers, but let her stroke his head without complaint. Through their connection, Josie could feel him tense up the slightest bit, but was unable to make out the exact reason.

  “Do you know who I am, little critter?” Hepzibah asked the cat and continued to stroke him. Glubsch yawned, stood up, shook himself and started to clean his fur in this rather aggressive manner of his. Josie had come to interpret it as a sign of impatience or agitation. For a moment, nothing else happened.

  “Zibah,” Glubsch then said, and as everyone sat up straight, Josie realized they had all been able to hear him.

  “Talks much. Smells funny,” the cat concluded and looked at the Witch. He sneezed, and grunted.

  He was not as eloquent as Jake, not by far, and yet he was hilarious.

  Josie grinned.