YM778.TV 39. The Cotter Farm
"I’m surprised you know my name, m’lady," the large man said, making an awkward bow that the rest of his family mimicked. There were four of them, all dressed in worn old clothing that had been patched and repaired too many times: a middle aged woman who must have been Whit’s wife, and Little Whit, a man now in his prime. Liv guessed the woman he had an arm around was probably his wife, not a sister.
"You used to win the bare knuckle fights at every fair day when I was little," Liv explained. "No one could beat you."
Big Whit grinned. "That was when I was younger!" he said. "Even so, if this thing was just some jumped up field mouse, or even a fox, I might’ve given it a smack. As it is," he waved an arm helplessly at the carnage in his field. "You see. I don’t know what we could even do."
It was lucky there was still enough light to see by; the sun had not entirely passed beneath the mountains to the west of the valley. The orb of blood, looking just like the one Liv and Matthew had fought at the Laughing Carp, had clearly got in among the chickens, because there were feathers everywhere by the coop. The corpse of one old milk-cow lay in the field, desiccated and shrunken, and not far away the monster was currently engage in draining the blood from a pig, with no less than four whips of gore wrapped around its victim.
"It started over at the Hardwick’s place," Little Whit spoke up, pointing past the fields to where another farmhouse could be glimpsed in the distance. "We’re not sure if they got out alright." Liv didn’t see any lights in the windows, but she kept her doubts to herself.
"It’ll make things easier if you all stay out of sight," Liv told them. She’d been chewing jerky the whole way over, but she still didn’t figure she was holding as much mana as she could. Maybe fourteen or fifteen rings, if she had to guess. In any case, she didn’t want to have to protect the Cotter family at the same time as she was dealing with the monster. They really needed to come up with a name for these things.
Once the family had descended the hill, putting it between them and the field where Liv intended to fight, she got to work. This was the first time that she’d even been sent to solve a problem like this entirely on her own, and Liv didn’t intend to make a mess of it. That meant she wanted to first keep the monster from fleeing, and then dispose of it. Who knew how big it would get if it continued rampaging across the countryside.
Liv momentarily considered, then discarded, the idea of using her Grasping Ice spell. If the blood-monster had been more solid, she might have tried it, but she figured it would probably just ooze past the pillars. She only had a little time before it finished with the pig; when that happened, it would either notice her, and close distance, or it would wander off searching for some other victim. It was that thought that gave her an idea.
"Celet Manis," Liv intoned, lifting her staff and pointing it at a patch of earth just in front of the feeding orb. She built the sculpture just like she did when providing targets for Matthew to cut in the practice yard, a man of ice with a sword raised, as if charging in to fight. She took her time with it; this part didn’t have to be quick, it only needed to draw attention.
A lash of viscera flung out from the orb, wrapping around the legs of the statue. Tossing the pig aside, the mass of blood closed on Liv’s decoy, throwing out the rest of its whips to bind a new target. It was smart enough to keep its prey from escaping, apparently, but it hadn’t yet realized what she was doing. Even touching the ice would start to congeal the blood, but Liv didn’t give the monster a chance to pull back. "Celent’he Aiveh Encve Næv’belim’o’Manis," she continued her chanting, before the sigils blazing on her staff had a chance to even dim.
Spears of ice shot out of the decoy, piercing the orb of blood and two of its lashes. The monster shook, trying to pull itself back off the frozen spikes it was impaled on, but Liv didn’t let up. "Celet Aiveh Næv’belium Ractae," she finished, then lowered her staff to watch the results.
The spears that pierced the monster of blood radiated cold, chilling and freezing everything they touched. Frost spidered out from each spear, encasing the monster until it stopped moving entirely. Only when the lashes crumbled and the frozen orb fell to the ground, shattering into scores of icy pink chunks, did Liv relax. It had been a more complicated sequence of casting then she had ever used in an actual fight before, but it had worked, and left her with a sliver of mana. With the emergency power stored in her ring, she might even be able to get off a single spell, if she needed to.
"By the trinity," Little Whit’s wife gasped. "Did you see that?"
Liv turned, and saw that the entire family had crept over the rise of the hill, on their bellies, to watch what she’d done. With a sigh, she trudged back through the gathering darkness toward the tree, where Master Grenfell’s gelding was waiting. There was no way she was going to walk back to Castle Whitehill after that.
☙
By the time Liv had returned to the castle, the moon was up, and the courtyard torches had been lit. She found that both Lady Julianne and Master Grenfell had returned, and that Gretta and her mother had cooked up two massive pheasants, from the shoals of Bald Peak, with mushrooms and onions in a wine sauce. Liv settled in next to them and helped herself to a large serving of meat: who knew what further attacks might happen in the night?
"I dealt with the one in the west fields," she said, in between bites.
"Good," Baron Henry said. "That’s the last we have word of, but I want someone headed south tomorrow to check on Fairford, and then the pass."
"I can do that," Lady Julianne offered. "I want to speak to Aunt Rhea, in any case, before we leave."
"Which means that I should go north," Master Grenfell spoke up. "To see whether the miners at Bald Peak came under attack."
"What do you want me to do?" Liv asked, then took a large gulp of watered wine.
"First," Lady Julianne said, "I want you checked over by Mistress Trafford. You’ve been in two fights today, and I want to be absolutely certain you’re in good condition to travel. You can go up to her chambers once you’ve had something to eat; she’s already wrapped my son’s wounds and put him to bed."
Liv grimaced, but didn’t object. She wasn’t as comfortable with Amelia Trafford as she had been with Master Cushing, but she didn’t have any real objection to the woman. "I’ll do that," she said. "Travel? Do we need to check in with Al’Fenthia?" It was a lot sooner than she’d planned on seeing Airis Ka Reimis again, but it would make a certain amount of sense to send her, out of anyone.
"No," Julianne said, shaking her head. "The Eld are more than capable of taking care of themselves. My father will be summoning a great council."
"The king can’t possibly have sent a messenger yet," Liv objected. "It’s only been hours. Even pigeons take days."
Lady Julianne grinned. "My father did not send me so far away without making certain we had a means to communicate."
"In any event," Baron Henry said. "While King Roland is still gathering information, he did tell us that there were attacks at the capital, and at Coral Bay, as well. At this point, we are all acting under the assumption that this event encompassed much of the kingdom. Master Grenfell, between the five of us, I presume it should be possible to use the Waystone at Bald Peak?"
Liv’s teacher nodded his head. "With the burden spread among so many, I foresee no difficulty."
"Three days should give us time to scour the valley for any more of these things," the baron said. "I’ll have each knight take a team at first light. Until my wife and Master Grenfell have returned, Apprentice, I will need you to be available here. You will be the first one I send after anything they find."
"What about Matthew?" Liv asked. It was clear to everyone why Baron Henry couldn’t go.
"Unlike my son, you’ve already shown you can defeat these enemies," Henry told her. "This stubbornness about his magic has gone on too long. I don’t care whether he likes fencing better, it’s foolishness to put aside a tool that has use."
Lady Julianne reached a hand over and rested it on her husband’s arm. "The College will set him right," she said. "Set it aside for now, Henry. Liv, see the first footman about making certain your things are packed."
"It sounds like I have a list of things to do before I can sleep," Liv said, pushing her plate aside and standing. "If you’ll excuse me, then, m’lord, m’lady."
"My Lord," Julianne corrected her. "It may not matter here, but it will at court. Talk like a peasant and you’ll be treated like one."
"Yes, My Lady," Liv said. She curtsied, grabbed her staff, and headed upstairs to find Mistress Trafford. When she knocked on the door to the chirurgeon’s chambers, there was only a brief pause before a woman’s voice from within called for her to enter. Liv slipped inside, then closed the door behind her. The room felt warmer than it had in the past, and there was a new, plush carpet on the floor.
Amelia Trafford was sitting at her desk, reading through a sheaf of notes, a quill in hand and a pot of ink at her elbow. A set of spectacles perched on her nose, which she adjusted with one finger. "Good, Apprentice Brodbeck," she said. "Have a seat on the table. I was just reviewing Master Cushing’s notes on you."
Liv set her staff against the wall in the corner of the room, then climbed up. "Is there something I should be worrying about?" she asked.
"Not as such," Mistress Trafford said. She removed her spectacles, rose from her desk, and approached. "But you are something of a special case. Thankfully, Master Cushing kept meticulous records. Any wounds?"
Liv shook her head. "No. Neither of the monsters ever touched me." Though the first one, at the inn, had been a near thing.
"Did you take any falls?" Trafford asked her.
"I rolled across a table and jumped out a window," Liv said.
"I want to check your legs, then," the chirurgeon told her. "For any fractures." She knelt on the floor in front of Liv and began running her hands up her calves, squeezing gently as she moved upward. "Tell me if there’s any pain."
"I haven’t broken a bone for years," Liv protested. "Since my arm in the courtyard."
"That’s because you’ve been careful," the chirurgeon pointed out. "Today, you weren’t being careful. Sometimes, soldiers don’t even realize they’re wounded until after a battle is over. Given your history with fractures and breaks, we can’t be too cautious. Nothing?"
Liv shook her head. "I feel fine. Just tired."
Mistress Trafford nodded. "You can go, then. It’s going to be a busy few days, so be sure to get a good night’s sleep," she said, standing up and turning back toward her desk.
"Can you tell Lady Julianne that I’m ready to go to Coral Bay?" Liv said, before she could think better of it.
The chirurgeon turned back to her. "I would think that is a question you should be asking Master Grenfell," she said.
Liv shook her head. "It isn’t about magic," she said. "I’m better at magic than Matthew. A lot better," she admitted. "I’ve had more time and training than probably anyone else going there this year, but they won’t let me go because they say I’m not old enough."
Mistress Trafford walked back over to her desk, and consulted her notes. "Master Cushing estimated that you were maturing at half the speed of a human," she said. "And everything I have seen, whether in these records, or since I’ve come here, supports that. How old were you when you bled for the first time?"
"Twenty-four," Liv answered. "It was the year you came here."
"Twelve years old would be consistent with the growth of a human girl," Amelia Trafford said. "It’s been six years since then, which would make you about fifteen, physically. Your growth has slowed, but you still added half an inch since last winter. You’re skinny, you haven’t filled out yet. Every piece of evidence I have, every measurement, even just glancing at your face, Liv, tells me that you’re aren’t an adult yet. Close, maybe but not there. We don’t send children to Coral Bay, we send people who have reached the age of majority."
"But I’m older than any of them!" Liv complained. "This is ridiculous. I’m better at magic than they are. Anyone I go to school with will be half my age. I don’t see what waiting another six years will do for me. If I went now, I could at least go with someone I know. A friend."
"I can understand why you would want that," the chirurgeon said. "And I sympathize Liv, I really do."
"Don’t you dare say you understand me," Liv shot back, suddenly furious. "You didn’t have to grow up different than everyone else. Emma was younger than me, and now she’s talking about getting married, and I’m still treated like a child. Matthew was a baby, and now he’s allowed to go to college before me? It isn’t fair!"
Mistress Trafford waited a long moment before she responded. "If we send you to Coral Bay now, we are telling everyone that you are available for marriage. Half the reason the aristocracy sends their children there is to make matches. You are not ready for that."
"I don’t care about finding a husband!" Liv shouted. "I just want to go with a single friend, instead of all by myself."
"Your body isn’t the only thing that needs to finish growing," the chirugeon said, crossing the room and tapping her finger against Liv’s forehead. "This. Right here. You mind isn’t ready. You know why we start children learning Vædic so young? You learn language easier as a child, rather than as an adult. There’s something in our heads, in our brains, that goes away as we get older, or at least changes. And you, right now? You’re acting exactly like what you are, which is a fifteen year old girl. You get angry, you get frustrated, and that’s normal, Liv. You think I don’t remember what it was like to be that age? Half the time I wanted to scream at my mother, the other half I wanted to lock myself in my room and cry, and whichever I was feeling I was probably mooning over some stupid boy at the same time."
"I’m not you," Liv said, glaring at her.
"No, you aren’t," Trafford said. "You’re a girl who doesn’t fit in anywhere. I’m sorry, but I can’t fix that for you. When we do let you go to Coral Bay, in some ways, you’re going to be smarter than everyone there. You’re right, no one else will have twenty years of training in magic like you will. But that doesn’t mean you’re ready. I know you don’t want to hear this, but you need to just be patient and trust us."
"I don’t have a choice, do I?" Liv complained, pushing herself off the table and striding over to the wall, where she took her staff back.
"No," Mistress Trafford said. "You do not. I’m sorry Liv, but that’s all there is to it. Try to get yourself a good night’s sleep; I have a feeling it’s going to be quite busy around here over the next few days."
Without another word, Liv stormed out the door, slammed it, and set off down the hall to her room.