The Broken Forest (3 page)

Adamina nodded. "I miss her, but I felt better leaving her behind in Edge Village. That is the reason I am here to see you, in fact."

"Oh?" the witch asked, cleaning off the table briskly before she sat with her own bowl and cup. "Pray tell what is wrong. Edge is generally a quiet village despite the gloom that hangs around it. The villagers have been told before they would be better off leaving that place to be taken by the woods, but they remain. I've had a few of them come to me over the years, but mostly they're a superstitious enough group that they prefer to stay well away from my type." She gave a soft snort. "They must be either terrified or in awe of you, my lady."

"Mostly the former, I think," Adamina said. "I am sorry. Here I am enjoying your wonderful soup and I've not even had the good grace for introductions. My name is Adamina Rosenfeld."

The witch smiled. "Grete, my lady, and I take no offense when someone enjoys my cooking so enthusiastically, and without suspicion."

"Witches are the best cooks I know."

Grete's smile widened as she took Adamina's empty bowl and refilled it. "I'd give you bread if I had it, but there's not much in the way of grain around these parts. It has to wait until I can go into town, and I've had no cause to do that for some time."

Adamina dismissed the words with a shake of her head. "Your soup is perfect."

"Well I certainly shan't argue with you, my lady," Grete said with a bright smile. "I enjoy compliments far too much to protest them." Her eyes lingered a moment before she turned away to resume her own seat. "So what is so wrong in Edge Village that my humble services are required?"

Reaching into one of the pouches at her waist, Adamina pulled out the kerchief in which she had earlier stowed the leaf and held it out. "Be careful."

Grete nodded as she gingerly unwound the kerchief—then froze, eyes widening. "This… this is rapunzel. It was eradicated, I thought. Even having a powdered version or a tincture containing it is a serious offense. Where in the name of the Great Queens did you get fresh rapunzel? Thank whatever fortune guards you that it was not the blossom you found."

"I was summoned to Edge Village to kill a monster dragging women and children from their beds and feasting upon them. All of those killed had been sealed or were coming of age."

"I see," Grete said quietly. "The beast was addicted to the rapunzel, but now the rapunzel is wreaking havoc upon its magic and body and it needs witch meat, so to speak, to repair the damage."

Adamina sighed. "
They
need witches. That is the other problem. There are two of them. One I have turned to stone, since it was beyond all hopes of purification, but the other—stronger—one roams free. I can track and kill it, but I fear there are things about which I do not yet know, and I'm concerned what effects the rapunzel might have had on the forest."

"I'll come, of course. Two, you said? Were they human? Of about what age?"

"I could not say. Human when they were born, certainly, but completely distorted by the rapunzel and the forest. Why, do you know something?"

Grete bit at her thumbnail. "Maybe. My full name is Grete Thane."

Adamina paused with a spoonful of soup halfway to her mouth, let it drop back into the bowl. "Thane. As in the one they called the Mad Witch?"

Wincing, Grete nodded. "Yes. She was my aunt. We used to live together, the three of us, in this very cabin. My mother and her did not always get along, but we managed well enough. Then, of course, we learned of the kidnapped girl."

"The woman in the tower," Adamina said. "I thought that was just a tale."

Grete's mouth flattened. "Unfortunately not. My aunt traded rapunzel for a baby, and kept the poor girl locked in an old tower in the woods all her life. My mother and I always wondered why she went into the woods so often, but we never questioned it because we were relieved she was gone. By the time we learned all that she had done, it was too late. My aunt had run off, never to be seen again, and we found the poor captive woman's body lying broken at the base of the tower. Evidence of terrible things…" She covered her eyes with her fingers. "It will always be my shame that I did not act sooner, that if I had been less selfish I might have saved a woman's life. And perhaps those children…" She dropped her hands and shook her head. "We found evidence that the woman had given birth, but never could find the children. We scoured the woods for them, asked around as best we could. After a couple of years with no success, though, my mother and I were forced to give up."

"The forest took them in," Adamina said quietly. "But they also fell into the rapunzel. How sad." She finished her soup and pushed the bowl away. "Thank you again for dinner. Is there a way for you to eradicate the rapunzel?"

"I can try," Grete replied. "I'm not a sorcerer, though. I weave charms to trade for pumpkins and ward the village well in exchange for cider and beets. I'm not unfamiliar with dangerous work, but neither do I excel at it, Huntress."

Adamina nodded. "I appreciate any help you can offer, though you seem so successful I suspect you are more skilled than you admit."

"I do as well making jams as charms, I assure you." Grete winked at her as she gathered up the dishes and settled them in a bucket. "Give me just a few minutes to clean all of this up, my lady, and I'll get a bed prepared for you for the night."

"You need not go to such trouble for me. My cloak and the fire are all I need."

"My mother would have taken a switch to me for being so rude. Have another cider, I shan't be long." She swept out of the cabin before Adamina could reply.

Bemused, Adamina obediently poured more cider and moved to sit closer to the fire, making a soft noise of appreciation at the soft rag rug set before it. She removed her muddy boots, scraped the worst of the dried muck into the fire, then set them close by, stripped her socks off to warm her feet, give them a chance to breathe after so many days of hard traveling.

She would give everything she owned for a proper bath and a soft bed, but thinking of such things just made her all the more homesick. Her father's garden would be blooming with frost roses, and all her nieces and nephews would be piled into the manor for the winter holidays. A few of them would be going to the Royal Feast for the first time. She had hoped to be home in time to see them enjoy it.

Ah, well. She had known what becoming a Huntress would entail. Reaching into a hidden pocket in her tunic, Adamina withdrew a small velvet pouch. Tipping the contents out, she ran her fingers over the old, slender silver case decorated with silver vines and porcelain flowers. She flipped the catch and opened the case to display the mirror it protected. "Show me my mother."

The mirror shimmered, then filled with a blur of colors that slowly sharpened, only slightly fuzzy around the edges: a woman with pale, pink-white skin, silver-touched black hair pulled up in an elaborate knot of braids, wearing a dark gold gown trimmed in bright gold lace. From the way her head was angled down, the slight pucker to her brow, she must be working, reading through all the paperwork that came from running a merchant company that owned no less than seven ships.

Large, dark hands fell on her shoulders, and she smiled as Adamina's father leaned down to kiss her briefly. Adamina had gotten her dark eyes and black-brown skin from her father, along with her brother Stephen; the rest of their siblings had fallen somewhere between their parents. She had also inherited her mother's black hair, where most of her siblings had lighter brown hair.

Adamina smiled, thinking of her brother, a year and half older than her, their mother's protégé in all things business. Adamina had done her time as an apprentice, but her heart had always belonged to the forests.

"Enough," she said quietly, and the image turned into swirling mist and faded away. If she managed to finish up with the rapunzel problem quickly enough, perhaps she could still make it home in time for the end of the festivities. She tucked the mirror away and sipped at her cider, enjoying the heat lapping at her tired feet.

The door creaked open and Adamina turned to smile—faltered at the way Grete froze in the doorway, stared at her wide-eyed. "Is something wrong?" Adamina asked.

Grete seemed to give herself a shake. "Not at all, my apologies." She bustled over to the work table and the cabinets close to it and put all of the clean dishes away before sliding the bucket beneath the table. "I can heat some water if you'd like to clean up a bit. I know what it's like to travel for days without being anywhere long enough to take off your boots."

"You've been more than gracious, already. I'll survive a few more days, and then I plan on finding a tub and all the hot water I can afford."

"As you wish. I will say the luxury of living alone is that I can have a bath whenever I want, and I don't have to share the water." Her mouth tipped at one corner. "The downside is that I have to haul the water all by myself. So it goes." She waggled her eyebrows before turning away to go to the bed in the corner and open the chest at the foot of it. "I've blankets aplenty here, they should keep you more than comfortable. We can leave at dawn?" Adamina nodded, and took the blankets as Grete held them out. "I'll get my things packed now, then, while I get ready for bed myself." She turned away, humming quietly as she bustled about the cabin.

Adamina fetched her saddlebags where she'd left them by the door and dug out clean socks. Returning to the fireplace, she pulled the new socks on, then set out the blankets. As promised, they made a more than adequate bed. She turned—and stopped, mouth going dry as she stared at Grete's bare back, a hint of breast, firelight bathing her skin like a lover.

She turned away, told her damned cock, already half-hard, to behave. Children were being murdered; her libido was going to have to behave itself. Settling down, adjusting the blanket around her, Adamina murmured a goodnight. She smiled when Grete bid her pleasant dreams.

Warm, full, and exhausted from a long day, it took her only moments to fall asleep.

Stabbing, throbbing pain threw her out of sleep, left her curled in a ball, choking on a scream. Her left leg and right shoulder felt as though they were on fire. Her wolf was being attacked, and the fight was not going well. Damn, damn, and double damn. Throwing off the blankets, Adamina reached for her boots and yanked them on, shoved her dirty socks into her saddlebags and threw them over her shoulder as she stood up.

"Is something wrong?" Grete asked from the bed. A moment later a candle flared to life. Grete climbed from bed, looking like something from a dream in a pale blue sleeping gown, her hair covered with a dark blue scarf.

Adamina winced as her shoulder throbbed sharply again. Fear sped the beating of her heart, tried to flare into panic, but she tamped it down. "My wolf is in a fight. I'm feeling it because we're so far apart and she's struggling to draw needed energy. I have to go back. You can follow—"

"Nonsense, I'll come now," Grete replied, pulling off her gown and quickly changing into breeches, boots, shirt, and a heavy winter tunic. Picking up a heavy leather belt, she buckled it in place and then affixed two pouches and a large hunting knife, then swung a cloak over her shoulders and pinned it in place. She doused the candle by her bed, then picked up a bucket of water and threw it on the fire, prodding at the ashes until she was certain the fire was out. Returning the poker to its stand, Grete then turned to Adamina and said, "Shall we?"

Adamina nodded and led the way out of the cabin, across the moonlit grass to the stables. It took only minutes to ready her horse and mount up. She extended a hand to Grete, who took it and swung up smoothly behind her, arms warm and solid around Adamina's waist, a pleasant counterpoint to the sharp, stabbing pains that made Adamina flinch every few minutes as they rode. A welcome distraction to the tightly coiled fear that was just waiting for a chance to spring up and overtake her.

The pain began to ease off halfway through the ride, though a dull ache lingered, meaning the wolf had not been terribly successful in her battle. Hopefully she had been successful enough. Morning dark gradually gave way to daylight, though the sunshine was no real help against the biting cold that promised winter was right on autumn's heels and closing fast.

The village was far too quiet when they arrived. All the doors and windows were closed, shops marked that they were not open for business, and the only people on the streets walked hastily, looking fearfully around, moving even faster when they saw Adamina.

"I see little has changed since my last visit," Grete murmured quietly. "A couple more generations of this sort of tension and they will start burning witches rather than endure one for even an hour."

"Let us hope not." Adamina halted the horse in front of the inn, let Grete dismount. She had just hit the ground herself when her wolf came limping through the gate, whining in relief, settling so heavily against her legs that Adamina almost toppled over. "Oof." Kneeling, she gingerly examined her wolf. The wounds had mostly healed, but not entirely, and her eyes were decidedly lacking in light. "Time for you to rest, beloved. Come." Adamina cupped her head and kissed her right between the eyes. The wolf shimmered, turned into light, and wrapped around her neck, settling once more into a bone pendant on a black cord. "What happened?" Adamina asked as Victoria came through the gate. She slowly rose, took the reins of her horse.

"Your wolf ran off a little after midnight, got into a fight with that
thing
right outside Miss Cheryl's home. Managed to tear its arm clean off, but then it ran away and the wolf was too weak to follow." Her gaze shifted to Grete. "Grete, thank you for coming."

Grete returned the greeting with a nod. "Victoria. Is there anything else you can tell us about the attack?"

"I'm afraid not. It all happened so fast, and it was dark and misty. I saw it run off past the bakery." She pointed down the street. "But I did not dare follow it further than that."

Adamina nodded, gently squeezed her arm. "I'm glad you did not. Thank you for looking after my wolf."