The Arcana: A Mystical Fanfic Chapter I - A New Life
My new life started a long time ago, I cannot even remember how many years had passed exactly, just as I cannot remember who is it that I was in the days before, only the happy memories of my family that look more like a made-up daydream than reality that once was.
I used to live on my family manor, alongside my mother, father and younger sister. It was a good life, much better than most people in the village could ever hope for, but simple non the less. Too simple for the likes of me. I wanted more, in my heart I always craved adventure, new places, people, new cultures. I knew that there’s more in store for me, I could feel it calling me, new winds blowing in my direction. My intuition was never wrong.
That morning I have just finished my house chores and was in the fields doing some sword practice with my father. It was unusual for a woman to take interest in this sort of art, but we never cared about what simple-minded village people thought of us.
My father was a diplomat, not a soldier, but it was expected from every gentleman of a status to know how to protect himself. I’ve always enjoyed our together-time. Father had a penchant for adventure as well. Together we have explored the wilderness surrounding our manor countless of times. I’ve come to know it like the back of my palm. It was a nice getaway from time to time when I needed to be alone with my thoughts. Presence of nature and its’ living creatures always seemed to heal me and fill me with energy.
And to practice the ancient arts far away from prying eyes of “lost” villagers. They called it magic, and the ones using it (in hushed tones, behind their backs of course) – witches. I knew it differently, properly. I knew it to be something natural and sacred, animals understood it better than humans, because, unlike us, they stayed close and connected to nature and its’ energy, its’ spirits. People who regained this connection were always shunned by society, as if it was something unholy, something filthy. I will never understand that.
Magic I was pretty good at. It came to me as easy as breathing once I’ve started performing it. My parents knew about this, of course, and were always supportive and full of praise when it comes to my magical dabbling. My sister was also amazed by the arts, and I enjoyed teaching her what I have learned over the years. I was indeed blessed to have such a family.
Ah, I have wandered off, as I usually do in my story telling. Back to that faithful day.
“Mhysa, what is wrong?”, my father lowered his sword, after cutting through my defense for third time in a row, “This is very much unlike your usual self. Something’s troubling you, don’t try and deny it”.
“I’ve heard stories…in the village, while I was getting groceries at the market. Stories about the scourge of the south. They say it’s coming our way, coming for our village. People sound so scared, I can’t help but worry. They say they destroy villages, leaving nothing but ash and corpses behind”, I tried to sound as calm as possible, as I have also lowered my sword and rested on the grass. My father joined me.
“Darling, those are peasants. They will always find something to worry about, to get their minds off their own lives. Don’t listen to their mumbling”, he tried to comfort me, giving me a warm hug as a ultimate argument.
I let out a sigh of relief: “I hope you’re right”.
The rest of the day went on pretty average, busy with our daily work. No matter how busy I’d get, I couldn’t shake off the ominous feeling that something bad was going to happen. Secretly, trying not to alarm anyone, I’ve put on protective charms around the house and protection symbols on the doors and windows of the house. It brought me some peace and relief, but that nasty hunch was still there. Something was coming.
In the evening, while I was watering the plants in the garden with my mother, I saw something unusual coming from the village. Smoke. Dark clouds of smoke, evening sky red from flickering fires, raging in the distance. Then the screams came. Came and died soon after.
“Get inside the house and lock the doors”, I ordered my mother, “it should hold, I’ve put a ton of protection on it”
“Are you insane? I am not leaving you out here alone!”, she refused, very strictly.
“Don’t worry, you know the arts will protect me, as they usually do. You have to have faith in me”, I tried to comfort her, “Go and keep father and sister safe, please”.
“And what are you going to do?”, a logical question, indeed.
“You’ll see soon enough”, I smiled at her and winked, trying to look as confident as possible, even though my plan was anything but solid, “Now go, while there is still time! Please!”
She went, reluctantly: “I hope you know what you’re doing”.
I’ve heard stories about the warrior tribe that sacked countless of villages for fun. I enjoyed listening to them, I found them useful and exciting. They were actually pretty superstitious people, worshiping demon deities of old times, asking them for power, strength and such, and giving them lives and blood in return. Such is the way of the wildlings. I found that fascinating, I have never met anyone so wild and free, chaotic, untamed. They were nomads, adventure was their way of life. A complete opposite of the life I was currently living. Part of me craved to ride beside them, but the other part was appalled by their savagery and murders. Their bloodlust was limitless and it was horrifying for someone who appreciated the soul of every living creature such as me.
It was too late to turn back, they will be here soon. I knew that the spells will hold, but they can burn our fields, our garden, animals, everything else, leaving us starving. Or they could just wait for the spells to wear of, just for the heck of it, and slaughter everyone inside in the most gruesome ways just for making them wait. I couldn’t risk it. I had to ensure my family’s safety.
Riders approaching. Many of them, dressed in leather armors, covered in animal fur and skin, heavily armed with various weapons. Their equipment was already soaked in blood. They have been busy in the village, I assumed. Their faces were covered in war paint. Under the evening sky, it seemed their eyes were red as the fires burning in the village. Is there anyone left alive, I wondered.
As I stood in front of the house, calmly cleaning the porch, they came. Knowing that I am doing this to protect my beloved ones gave me peace and serenity. I cared not what happens to me, as long as they’re safe. The plan has to work.
I was amazed to see that they are led by a woman. There was something beautiful in her, she was a raw force of nature in a human body. That first impression turned out to be incredibly true later on.
Everyone else looked pretty much the same. Except one man riding behind her. A young man with bright golden hair and eyes as blue as the midday sky on a bright day. Never before have I thought a man to be beautiful. But he was. My eyes shifted from him to her as they approached me.
“Can I help you?”, I asked, not stopping for a second with cleaning with my broom. I sounded way too casual, as if they were travelers looking for a place to rest from their long trip.
The leading woman, not getting off her horse, answered: “Do you have any idea who we are, girl?”
This question was followed by sinful snickering of her warriors.
“Do you know who I am?”, I reply, uninterested and calm, as if they were just noisy preachers from the village.
The woman looked puzzled: “…no. …should I?”
“Good. Then let’s start over. My name is Mhysa, this manor here belongs to me and my family. You are welcome to rest here, eat and drink, give water to your beasts, we have never rejected travelers from afar. That is, if that is your intention. If you wish to light another bonfire here as you did in the village, I will have to ask you to reconsider. Scourge of the South”, I finished, catching her glare with mine, as sharp as a knife.
Some of the warriors looked confused, as if I held an army hidden under my skirt somehow, or in the backyard. The others just laughed at my boldness and possible threats. The woman just glared down at me.
“I am Morga, you seem to be already familiar with my tribe and our work. Now why would one peasant girl think that she would have any means to stop us from doing what we do best?”, she grinned, provoking me, obviously amused.
I remained calm: “I never had an intention of challenging you, or anything alike. I would have to be really dumb or completely insane to do that. On the contrary. I was about to make an offer that might strike your interest”.
“Strike MY interest? You amuse me, I’ll give you that, girl. I am curious, what does a peasant girl have to offer to Morga?”, her eyes gleamed with amusement.
I stopped cleaning and walked to her, broom still in my hand, my eyes still locked on hers.
“Strike me with your spear and you will see for yourself”
This was followed by an intense laugh coming from all of the warriors, that went on for some time. Even Morga couldn’t help but chuckle.
“You have a death wish, girl? Fine by me, my spear was already getting thirsty”, she accepted my challenge, and in a split second she attacked with immense precision. But I was faster. My hand drew a symbol of shielding in the air in front of me, my lips have whispered the spell, my mind was clear and focused, and the impact from the spear hitting the magical shield barrier I created threw the warrior queen off her high horse. Everyone stared in awe and shock, unsure what just happened.
Morga roared like a lioness, unsheathed her sword and tried to strike me again. I’ve put a fun spell on my broom, making its’ wood as hard as the toughest steal, and calmly blocked her attack with it. Her eyes widened in disbelief: “A sorceress”, she whispered.
“Can we negotiate now?”, I asked, my tone unchanged since the beginning of our encounter.
“You have my word that no one will do any harm to any part of your manor during the negotiations”, Morga assured me as she followed me into the dining room inside my home. I let her sit at the head of the table, as I sat on the opposite side of her.
“What is going on here?”, my mother came in, looking terribly worried.
“Ah, mother, can you please bring some ale for my guest here? Thank you”, I tried to sound as carefree and cheerful as possible, to get her to relax, “and please ask the rest of the household not to disturb us”.
Mother looked confused, but nodded and left, only to come back a moment later with a bottle of the finest vintage ale we had in our basement. I poured some in two glasses and brought one to Morga. We knocked our glasses together, so the ale mixes, a small test to see if someone was spicing up the drinks with something deadly.
“I haven’t had ale this fine, well, never”, Morga noticed, savoring the taste.
“I am glad you enjoy it. I like to pamper my important guests. Now, back to business, and my offer for you”, I hated stalling, I wanted this to be over before someone makes the wrong move. It was risky, too risky, but the only way to ensure my family’s safety.
“I am listening”, she leaned over the table, smirking and waiting.
“Look, I won’t lie, I want you to leave my family alone, my manor intact and never return here again”, I made my case, ending with a sip of ale.
“Reasonable. And what do we get in return?”, her eyes were once again gleaming with amusement. I knew she waited for me to make a wrong move so she can strike me where I stand.
“You get me. My full dedication to your tribe, my services, my magical arts. I am yours to do as you command. It looks to me you are short on sorcerers, and you have seen only a glimpse of what my magic can do”, I’ve made my offer. I knew what it meant. Never seeing home again. Traveling with savages capable of every monstrosity human mind can fathom. Horrible…and yet exciting.
Her smirk disappeared, her eyes widened again. There was a brief moment of silence before she spoke: “I accept your offer. But, I have a condition of my own”.
Now I was intrigued: “You have my undivided attention”.
She got up, chugged the rest of the ale in her glass, smashed it on the table, and proclaimed: “You have to cross swords with me”.
The night already fell when we came out into the fields. Morga and I were facing each other in a circle made out of her warriors, waiting eagerly to see my head flying from my shoulders. “What have I done?”, I thought in despair. My negotiations failed. I could never beat a warrior queen, and if I use even a glimpse of magic, her warriors will destroy me.
We both drew out our swords and politely greeted each other as is the fencer custom. I was surprised to see something civilized coming from the likes of her.
And then we clashed. Steel clinging, two bodies dancing a deadly dance in the moonlight. She moved like a cheetah, so fast, fluid, gracious. I stared in awe, I couldn’t best her but I didn’t care. That woman was an artist in this deadly art and I was honored to cross my sword with someone like her.
With my sword out, and hers under my throat, the fight was over. I stared into her eyes, fearless and proud, waiting.
But then, she just removed her sword, sheathed it again and smiled, satisfied: “You have potential, kid. Now pack your bags, kiss your family goodbye, we leave with the first light”.
I stood there, unsure what just happened: “…but…why?”
“I can’t trust a person before we cross steel. Sword is the best judge of character, in a fight you can truly see who is who”, she replied, giving me a stare over her shoulder, that made me freeze. I truly, truly admire this woman. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad decision after all.
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