Matilda

This is a short story I've written for The Alliance of Worldbuilders Anthology. It's back story to my trilogy The Return of the Effra. I hope it works as a stand alone story too.

Matilda

  

The Visitor

A sharp pain shot up her arm causing her hand to jerk sideways, knocking over a small green bottle. Holding her breath, she watched as it rolled away along the shelf in a wide lazy arc, coming to rest against the wall at the back.

Massaging her shoulder, Tilly started to breathe again, a sigh of relief escaping with her first breath. The pain had been sharp, radiating through her whole body. ‘I’m getting too old,’ she thought reaching up and taking hold of the bulbous shaped bottle she had been attempting to retrieve from the shelf. Glancing at the small green bottle she sighed again, ‘I will need to get a stool to stand on to reach that now.’

“Are you alright? Do you need a hand?” A man’s voice asked from the other room.

“No I have what you need, but like I was explaining this will only hold off the symptoms while you are taking it. It isn’t a cure and I haven’t a lot left either.” Tilly pushed aside an old dusty curtain, that was hanging over the doorway, and stepped through to the other room.

The man was sat on an old wooden chair pulled up to a well scrubbed oak table. He was tall and strong with broad shoulders and had the look of a soldier about him. His clothes were those of a traveller, with a thick woollen cape over a brown leather coat. But his shoulders were hunched over with his elbows resting on the table and his right hand pressed against the side of his head.

“As I was saying, the discomfort you are feeling is coming from a lump that is growing inside your skull,” Tilly said as she pulled up another chair to sit opposite him.

“Discomfort? More like blinding agony,” the man grumbled looking unhappy.

“If you had come to me sooner I may have been of more use to you, but it has grown past the abilities of my potions.” Tilly shook her head and pushed the bulbous bottle across the table. “I fear your only hope now would be a magus or maybe an elf, both of which are in short supply these days. You have travelled north from Camlain, did you not think to seek Hadrid’s council?”

The traveller shook his head and winced, “I have served in Hadrid’s army, in his personnel guard no less, since I was a boy. You would think he would have been happy to help would you not? Well no, he will not sully his hand or his powers on the likes of me.” There was bitterness in the travellers voice and his free hand was balled in a fist. “I’ve left his employ for good and will probably be run though if they ever catch up with me. I’ve heard it told there is a young and powerful magus in the north, come from over the sea. They say he’s named for freedom. I am on my way to find him.”

“Freedom? I’d heard all those with the Shrilan name had been executed or murdered in the magi wars in the vast lands.”

“Aye, but according to a traveller from the east I met by chance, this one managed to escape with his baby sister and has fled here to evade those who wish to wipe out his bloodline.”

There was a loud creak from somewhere in the cottage and the traveller’s horse, who was tied up outside, snorted and started to paw the ground. The traveller’s eyes darted around the room, checking out every shadow, nook and cranny, while his free hand shot to his belt curling around the hilt of a dagger.

“Don’t worry yourself, I haven’t got Hadrid’s army hiding in my cottage,” Tilly smiled at him.

“It’s not Hadrid’s army I’m worried about,” the traveller stood up and pulled four gold sovereigns from his pocket. Placing them on the table he picked up the bottle. “I’ve also heard told that the old witch, Matilda keeps a fire demon for a pet.”

Tilly laughed, “oh to be that powerful, do you really think it’s possible for anyone to keep a demon for a pet?”

“My philosophy is to believe anything is possible, thank you for the potion and take care, these are troubled times, a pet demon could be a good thing to have.” The traveller made a hasty exit and Tilly heard his horse hurrying away.

Easing herself to her feet she closed her eyes and steadied herself against the chair. Almost a hundred winters had taken their toll on her slight frame, her joints creaked and protested with every movement.

“You look unwell old woman,” a deep silky voice spoke from the shadows.

“Less of the old if you don’t mind.” Tilly said shuffling the chair and making out she was pushing it back to the table rather than using it to prop herself up.

“More tales of unrest in the south and a mysterious stranger in the north,” the owner of the voice said stepping out of the shadows. His eyes, taking in Tilly’s unsteady stance, were a strange silver colour. His skin stretched tight over his tall, thin, wiry frame was pale and powdery and a pair of steel gray horns protruded from his untidy black hair. His only clothing was a pair of worn leather trousers. “… and what does ‘a pet’ mean?”

“Like a dog or a cat,” Tilly’s finger taped on the back of the chair and her brow knotted as she thought about what the traveller had said about the magus.

“He thinks you keep me like a dog?” the silver eyes narrowed into a frown.

“Damian, these days I fear it is more you that keeps me, I seem incapable of the simplest of tasks. I knocked over a small green bottle on the top shelf, could you fetch it for me?” She sank back down onto the chair and carried on tapping her finger on the table. She was so deep in thought it made her jump when Damian placed the bottle on the table in front of her. He crossed the room and hopped up to sit on top of the big range in the inglenook, his bare feet resting on the hot plate. Tilly shuddered, she had seen him sit like that thousands of times and she knew he would never burn, in fact the hotter it was the more he liked it, but it still disturbed her.

“The news worries you?” Damian nodded towards her tapping fingers.

“I was thinking about this magus, if he is a survivor of the Shrilan family he will be powerful magic. The Shrilan magi were one of the most powerful magi families in all the vast lands.”

“If they were so magical how come they were destroyed?”

Tilly shook her head sadly, “betrayal, deceit and treachery, other magi families were jealous of their power. When a magus turns bad he can become pure evil.”

“Like Hadrid?”

“Yes it would appear from the news of the south that Hadrid is using his powers for his own benefits, to suppress and dominate. Let’s hope this new magus lives up to his name and uses his power and wisdom for the good of others.” Tilly stared at the bottle in front of her, “could you go and see what you can find out about him?”

Damian jumped down off the range, “I will go, but I will not travel too far, you may need me to reach for more bottles.” Grinning, he turned and left through the door the traveller had used. Tilly could see him through a window, standing with his back to her. Folded against his back were two large black, bat like wings which he now opened and stretched wide. Then with an easy beat he thrust himself up into the sky and was gone.

Youth Potion

Tilly sat staring at the little green bottle, memories flooding back. It was the hardest potion she’d ever created and it had been waiting on her shelf for fifty winters. Laying her hands flat on the table she took a deep breath. A potion that gives back youth for one whole cycle of the sun, it was powerful complicated magic. The down side was that once the effects wore off the taker would end up many winters older than before. Tilly had saved it to use once her time was over, one last youthful day before her life ended. She now felt sure this time was fast approaching and she was almost ready, her only problem was Damian.

The ingredients had been difficult enough to find in the first place and Tilly had searched for many winters to find the right kind of fungi. Finally she had come across a cave that ran deep into the mountains. In the darkest recess a small amount of Mortus Fungi clung to the cold rock. As she gathered what she needed, she had become aware of someone else in that cramped place. A being of some kind squeezed tight into a crack in the rock face. With a lot of gentle persuasion she had coaxed it out, only to be horrified at what she’d found.

The being had been human shaped but skeletal thin with bat like wings and skin bleached of colour. Tilly guessed what he was, a powerful, evil spirit, a demon of some kind, but it took time for her to figure out what was wrong with him. He had somehow gained a conscience which had subsequently destroyed the very essence of who he had been, leaving him trapped in an earth bound form, destined to be forever tortured by memories of what he’d done. Tilly had taken him in, cared for him and named him Damian and unable to break the curse that had caused this, she had cast spells of her own to try and counter the damage. Having no family she came to look upon him like a son, he became her family. What was worrying her now was what would happen to him without her protection and guidance.

There was a muffled knock at the door, so quiet Tilly only just heard it. Closing her eyes she eased herself to her feet.

“I’m just coming,” she said forcing her legs to wake up and work.

Opening the door she gazed out at the forest clearing around her cottage, but there was no one there. Shaking her head she turned to close the door, but stopped when she heard a faint moan. Curled on her doorstep was small, green figure. It moaned again as its head lolled sideways and large amber eyes stared up at Tilly full of fear and pain.

“Rowan!” Tilly’s hand shot to her heart as she looked down at the figure. “Whatever has happened?”

It took a tremendous effort for Tilly to bend down and scoop Rowan up into her arms. He weighed very little, but it used up every ounce of the modicum of strength she had to get him to her bed. As quickly as she could she found a restorative potion and pressing the bottle to his lips encouraged Rowan to take a sip.

After a few moments the small green face relaxed, but the eyes still looked haunted. Tilly checked him over for injuries giving him a few more moments to recover. She was horrified at what she found. His arms were covered in bruises and a large angry welt stretched across his back from his right shoulder to his left hip. Another angry bruise on his left side suggested he may have a couple of broken ribs.

“Who would do this to a harmless goblin?” She asked herself out loud.

Rowan turned his head. His wispy silver hair was plastered to his head with dirt and his thin face looked gaunt making his big pointed ears seem extra large. “Please help,” his voice was little more than a whisper. “Please help goblins,” reaching out he grabbed Tilly’s arm with long bony fingers. “Soldiers come, they take everyone, even Daisy,” he said turning his face away, “they have Daisy. Rowan escapes, manages to get away.” Then turning back he pulled her closer, “Please help get goblins back, get Daisy back… please.” The grip on Tilly’s arm loosened as his eyes rolled back in his head and his hand dropped away.

Tilly stared at the unconscious goblin. He had said soldiers, the only soldiers around came from Camlain, Hadrid’s army. What did Hadrid want with a group of goblins? The only thing she could think of was for slave labour, he was building a bigger, more impressive castle, perhaps he needed a work force?

Anger welled up inside as Tilly thought about it, Hadrid had no right to take anyone against their will and goblins had just as much right as anyone else to live a free life. She needed to act fast, there would be no chance of freeing the goblins once they arrived at the castle.

Grabbing a bag from on top of a wardrobe and heading back into the kitchen she started making a mental note of what she would need. As she placed the bag on the table another sharp pain ripped through her body. Sprawling forward she crashed on to the tabletop her hands scrabbling at the surface trying to get a purchase but failing. Slipping and sliding her fingers found and fastened onto the small green bottle as her body twisted, falling backwards. She felt rather than heard the loud crack as her hip slammed onto the flagstone floor and white hot blinding pain burned through her. The world spun around her, nausea mixing with pain, blackness threatening to engulf her.

Tilly lay trembling, fear clouding her thoughts, pain filling her senses. She didn’t dare move, even the act of breathing hurt. Slowly as her mind began to clear again, she tried to work out her best options. She couldn’t move without causing more pain, she felt sure her hip had broken in the fall, so crawling or dragging herself up was out. Waiting for Damian to get back was the only option, but even so he couldn’t mend her hip she was going to be crippled. Tears welled in her eyes, spilling over, running down the side of her face and soaking into her long gray hair.

Her fingers tightened around the small green bottle and she raised her hand so she could see it. Blinking the tears away she made her decision. Removing the stopper she tipped the contents of the bottle into her mouth and swallowed. The potion had a sharp metallic taste that burned her throat as it went down. The burning spread through her whole body until it felt like she was on fire, getting so intense Tilly began to beg for death to take her, before finally she passed out.

Rescue Attempt

At first Tilly thought she had gone blind, as she opened her eyes there was nothing but blackness until they grew accustomed to the night. She was lay where she had fallen looking up at her kitchen ceiling.

Checking out each limb in turn she held her breath waiting for the sickening pain to return, but apart from a small amount of stiffness everything seemed to work. Pulling herself up, the ease with which she managed to get to her feet shocked her and remembering Rowan she headed straight for her bedroom, grinning at the nimble way her body was moving.

Rowan was just where she’d left him, but now he looked a lot more relaxed and his breathing was steady and peaceful. Gently opening his mouth she dripped a couple more drops of the restorative potion on to his tongue. ‘He’ll be almost as good as new when he wakes up,’ she thought returning to the kitchen.

The bag was still on the table where she’d dropped it, so picking it up she again started to decide what to take. A large ham and two loaves of bread, a candle that if left burning behind you hid your path from anyone following and a handful of pine cones that rendered anyone close by unconscious if placed in a fire. She changed in a hurry, putting on a pair of dark leather trousers and a black sheepskin coat. Finally before leaving she fastened a belt around her middle it held a small scabbard containing a short dagger with a large ruby imbedded in the end of the hilt.

With her bag on her back and her wand in her right hand Tilly stepped out of her cottage scanning the darkness for any threats. The moon was still in the early stages of its nightly journey, which pleased Tilly who couldn’t be sure how long she’d been unconscious.

She struck a path straight for the goblin settlement Rowan called home. As she jogged along, her legs strong with youthful fitness, she cursed herself for not leaving a note for Damian. ‘By morning Rowan should have woken, he will fill Damian in on what has happened and Damian will guess where I am and follow,’ she thought.

Goblins made their homes in the branches of trees, high up away from predators such as wolves. The one predator this couldn’t avoid though was man. As Tilly reached the settlement she gasped in horror. The ground around the tall oak trees where the goblins lived was littered with the remains of their homes. Each tree house had been dragged free and brought crashing to the ground. Walking through the devastation she noticed a large arrow tipped with viscous looking barbs imbedded in a piece of wood that had once been flooring. Attached to the arrow was a long piece of rope that had been used to pull the house down once the arrow had hit its mark. The air smelt of soot and wood smoke where numerous little fires had shattered on hitting the ground. Tears flooded down Tilly’s cheeks as she noticed twisted in the remains were ten or twelve little green bodies. Taking a deep breath she turned away, there was nothing she could do for them now.

It was easy to track the soldiers with their prisoners, a wide path had been forged through the undergrowth by their passing. Tilly took off at a steady run hoping their progress had been slow, as she needed to catch up with them before daylight. This wasn’t how she’d planned to spend the time the potion would give her, she’d had all sorts of different ideas. ‘Sometimes The Fates have other plans for you,’ she thought trying to keep her mind on the job at hand.

As the eastern sky started to glow Tilly, came across their encampment. At first it was the dwindling camp fire through the trees she could see, then she nearly tripped over a mass of little green bodies all huddled together in nervous sleep. Skirting around the goblins she edged closer to the campfire and spied the soldier who should have been on watch duty. He was sat leaning against a tree between the sleeping goblins and the rest of the camp. He was dozing with his head sagging forward and dribble running down his chin. The rest of the soldiers were lay as near as they could get to the fire.

Careful not to make any noise Tilly crept closer. When she reached the edge of the shadows she took the pine cones from her bag. Holding them out in her left hand she pointed her wand at them and started mumbling an incantation. The cones rose slowly and hovered in front of her face. She moved her wand to point at the fire and they drifted away towards it as if blown by a light breeze. Once they were hovering over it Tilly stopped mumbling and lowered her wand and they dropped into its heart. The flames flashed bright blue and emitted a dense blue smoke which spread out engulfing the sleeping soldiers.

With a satisfied smile she turned back to the goblins. It was then she felt a drain on her energy, only slight but enough that she noticed it happen. ‘Using magic is going to affect the effect of the youth potion,’ she thought biting her lip.

The goblins were easy to rouse, but they were all shackled and chained together. Tilly raised her wand and pointed it at the padlock on the shackles of a goblin she knew called Acorn, but then glancing around at the others saw around forty sets of eyes gazing back at her. The drain from unlocking forty or more sets of shackles with magic was going to undo the effect of the youth potion completely.

‘Someone must have a key,’ she thought and gesturing to the goblins to wait she turned back to the campfire. Holding her breath she stepped into the remains of the blue smoke and started to search the first soldier. Unsuccessful she moved on to the next, but by the time she’d searched three she had to step away as she couldn’t hold her breath any longer. Most of the blue smoke had dispersed by now and she could see the soldiers easier, so taking a moment she studied them. They were all dressed in mail covered with red tunics that bore a gold crown on the front. ‘Not very comfy to sleep in,’ she thought smiling. Most of them were also wrapped in red cloaks and blankets making it impossible to work out who was in command. She chose the three that lay closest to the fire assuming they would be the highest ranking and more likely to hold the keys.

This time Tilly had success when she searched the second of the three she had chosen. Hurrying back to the goblins she noticed the sun had appeared on the horizon and the birds were well into their morning chorus.

There were eight keys on a big metal ring, after unlocking Acorn’s shackles she unhooked the keys and passed them around the waiting goblins. They didn’t need telling what to do or that they needed to be quick.

“What do you think you’re doing?” The soldier on watch duty had woken up, having been further away from the fire than the others the blue smoke hadn’t reached him. He marched straight for Tilly ignoring the goblins squirming around his feet trying to undo their shackles. Tilly reached for her dagger but wasn’t quick enough. He was burly and tall with dark dirty hair poking out from under his half round helmet. He towered over Tilly as he grabbed the front of her coat, lifting her bodily into the air and slamming her against a nearby tree. The weight of her body hanging in her coat pulled her arms up and made it impossible for her to get her hands down low enough to reach her dagger. The soldier bought his face so close to hers their noses almost touched.

“What do you think you’re up to then?” His breath was stale and his brown eyes bore into hers with a look of confident triumph. “Thought you’d steel our merchandise did you?”

 “They are not your property, they are sentient beings who have just as much right to live free as you or I.” Tilly stared back defiantly.

The soldier threw his head back and laughed, but his eyes went wide with shock and his laugh turned to a blood ridden gurgle. He dropped Tilly and staggered before crashing backwards to the floor. As he fell she saw Acorn scrabbling to jump free from his back.

The soldier lay still a bloody gash across his throat, his blood oozing onto the forest floor. Acorn clambered to his feet and held out Tilly’s dagger for her to take back. She nodded a thank you and wiped the blood off on the soldier’s tunic before replacing it in her belt.

“We must hurry,” she whispered watching the last of the goblins free themselves. There were adults of every age and a number of children too, it was going to be difficult to move very fast or quietly. She was relieved to see Daisy, Rowan’s soul partner amongst them. Checking everyone was ready, Tilly set off at a quick march back along the trail to the goblin village.

“Will it not be this way the soldiers look for us?” Acorn asked trotting beside her.

“Yes, I have a plan though,” Tilly smiled down at him.

Flight North

Tilly glanced at the sky, the sun was drifting towards the western horizon. Biting her lip she frowned returning her gaze to the path through the forest.

Before the sun had reached its midpoint she had sent the goblins off eastward on a new trail and once they were out of site she had lit her candle and placed it on their new path. Waiting behind she had kept watch to make sure the soldiers continued on the path back to the goblin settlement.

They had come rushing past not long after the goblins had disappeared and Tilly had followed them to make sure none of them got suspicious and turned back. When it was obvious the soldiers weren’t going to turn around she had taken a path of her own conscious of how far the sun had travelled. The effects of the youth potion were already starting to weaken and she still had a fair distance to travel before reaching her cottage. After a while she had got the feeling someone was following and had hidden at the side of the path to find out.

She gripped her wand tighter feeling the stiffness returning to her fingers, she really needed to keep moving. Just as she decided it had been her imagination two soldiers came jogging past following her trail.

Tilly’s heart raced as she crept backwards away from the path. Holding her breath she turned to take a different route and crashed straight into the chest of a soldier who had crept up behind her. He grabbed her arms pinning them to her sides and lifted her from the ground.

“Put me down,” she said trying to keep her voice steady.

The soldier just laughed and shouted, “I’ve found someone.”

Tilly panicked and pointing her wand upwards hissed an incantation. There was a loud crack and the soldier flew backwards crashing to the ground. Tilly turned to run but his comrades had arrived and were blocking her path. The drain on her strength from the spell made her gasp and her body stiffened as old age returned.

“You old bi…,” Tilly didn’t hear the rest of the insult, she turned to see who was speaking and the back of a gauntleted hand caught her across her face sending her spinning to the ground.

“Let’s see how you like it?” She was dragged roughly to her feet again and the soldier she had blasted grabbed her flinging her like a rag doll across the path. She crashed sideways into a tree and fell to the floor, pain exploding up and down her spine. The soldier marched over and reached down to grab her again, but just before his fingers touched her, the air ripped apart with a tremendous roar and he flew backwards away from her.

Tilly’s sight was blurred with pain, but she could make out Damian, he had one of the others by the throat. With an easy squeeze he crushed the life out of the soldier and threw him away. With another roar he took off after the rest of them who were running for their lives.

Moments later he was back kneeling beside Tilly, scooping her up gently in his arms. “Do not worry old woman I will get you back to your cottage.”

Tilly shook her head, “no take me north, take me to the magus.” her voice was raspy and quiet. Damian nodded, spread his wings and with a blast of air they took off.

Tilly’s whole body was racked with pain, she screwed her eyes shut and pressed her face against Damian’s chest. His skin was very warm and smelt of spice and fire. She was so proud of how he’d turned out, of who he had become. She was going to miss him, he would never be following her to the afterlife, he was never going to die, never going to be mortal. She wished she’d had more time to plan a future for him, to be sure he was going to be alright.

The journey was long but Tilly, drifting in and out of consciousness, didn’t notice most of it. It had taken Damian a while to find the half built castle where the magus was making himself a home.

A welcome committee soon gathered as Damian landed in front of a large set of oak doors. Tilly couldn’t make most of them out, pain was blurring her vision, but she could hear the angry mumbling and Damian had come to a standstill.

The mumbling suddenly died and Tilly could make out a figure walking towards them through a parting in the crowd. Damian spoke first not waiting for the man to stop.

“Are you the magus?” Tilly could feel the urgency and tension in his voice.

“I am Etienne Shrilan and yes I am a magus,” he stood tall taking in the sight before him, showing no sign of the fear Damian usually provoked in people. Tilly was transfixed by his eyes they were the most piercing blue she had ever seen, they seemed to pour energy and understanding into her just by looking at her. She sighed and relaxed she had been right to come here after all.

“She is hurt, will you cure her?” Damian Shifted impatiently, “please.”

Etienne hesitated for a moment then turning back to the oak doors said, “bring her this way.”

There was a repeat of the mumbling and a voice from the crowd said, “but sir, you’re surely not going to invite it into the castle?”

“I am sure if he meant us any harm he would have picked a better disguise,” Etienne said laughing.

He led them up some stairs to a large plain room with an enormous four poster bed. Damian placed Tilly on the bed and then moved back to allow Etienne to get closer. She looked up at the magus, he was young with shoulder length blond hair and handsome features. The air around him shimmered with energy as he placed a hand on her shoulder and warmth radiated from the spot where he touched her. Tilly shook her head and closed her eyes, the pain had faded into a bone deep ache and an immense tiredness had swept over her.

“You cannot save me,” her voice was barely more than a whisper. “I took a youth potion and it has aged me further than a human body is able to survive. I had Damian bring me here so I may ask something of you. He needs somewhere to live, would you take him in? Will you promise to give him a home?”

“It is not true! You must save her.” Damian said stepping forward anger and frustration in every word.

“She is older than anybody I have ever seen, I am afraid there is nothing I can do,” Etienne paused his hand still on Tilly’s shoulder and she got the strangest feeling he was walking around inside her head. After a few moments he said, “yes, I will take him in.”

Tilly relaxed feeling too tired to breathe, to tired even to think. She looked up at Damian, he was the closest she had to family. It took more strength then she had to pull her dagger from the belt, but she managed it and pressing it to her lips she whispered a last incantation.

“Take it, keep it,” she said to Damian. He shook his head but she whispered, “you must.”

The spell had sucked the last of the life from her body, she closed her eyes as a kind of blackness washed over her. It had been a very long and in most parts a good life. She had done what she needed to and now it was time to rest.

And so Matilda, the old witch of the woods, headed off into the afterlife.