Two days later.
Autumn had stayed at the inn for several days, paying out of pocket with her dwindling supply of copper coins as she waited to travel with Nethlia to the city later in the week. While she still had a handful of silver left alongside a lonesome gold coin, she’d also taken to helping out around the inn and village using her newest spell – the repair charm.
The repair charm did what it said – it repaired things. Nothing major, just little things. Things like torn clothing, busted seams, broken or chipped shovels, hammers, nails, and other such small items that’d be expensive or inconvenient to fix. She’d even helped Orzon mend his busted door. Her tireless work around the village had earned her some goodwill from the locals.
They still looked at her funny for being a human.
However, Autumn didn’t spend all her time running around fixing things or hanging out with Nethlia, she also read through the page on imbuing items with power. It was a fascinating topic. Essentially witchcraft enchantments.
To imbue an item with magic, you must first know what it is that you wish to accomplish. Intent informs effect. Not only that, but what material you use will also affect what it is that you are attempting to accomplish. For example, take a lonesome scarecrow.
Straw and cloth dummies have been used for generations to ward off pesky crows, using their fear of people against them. This ancient understanding makes them effective guardians for a farmer’s livelihood. However, what they are made from can affect their power, as well as how they look. If one is made with a greater likeness to those who tend the fields, the crows who come to feast on the grains will have a harder time telling the two apart.
Witchcraft works the same. The greater the similarities between what you want and what you make, the more powerful the object will become.
Below I’ve written a few examples for you to try out.
Bone Totem.
A bone totem is a simple charm meant to ward off a specific type of creature from an area. This is similar to the scarecrow example above. What you want to do is take the bones of the specific creature, boiled so that no flesh or sinew remains, then craft them into a sculpture to mark a boundary line. The more of such you make, the stronger the effect. Around my home you’ll see such, if they haven’t already turned to dust by the time you are reading this.
Beast Lure
Opposing the totem which repels creatures, a beast lure attracts them. This can be made from the fat of the creature you want to lure, mixed with ash and spices to create a tallow candle that, when lit, will give off a scent that the beasts find enticing. Be cautious, as even if snuffed, the scent will remain for a while afterwards, dependent on wind.
…
Autumn had spent some of her free time attempting the miscellaneous trinkets and charms listed in the book to varying success. None had been especially powerful, but she’d sold a fair few of the bone charms made of crow bones to the northernmost wheat farmers, and several to the closer locals out of some pest that dug holes in the pasturelands.
She’d not made any lures so far, and all the other items she’d tried to make had ended in dismal failures. They gathered like discarded flotsam in her footlocker.
Right now, Autumn was helping Nethlia pick some Camisofruit from the proud tree resting behind the inn for the evening meal.
Rather than eat alone this morning, or just with Nethlia, Autumn had summoned up the courage to partake in the culture of the Inferni people and joined a few of the politer demons for the morning meal. As primarily carnivores, they preferred more meat-heavy meals, so breakfast consisted of spicy BBQ ribs, BBQ pork and meat buns, a beef stir-fry, and some sort of beef spring rolls.
They’d been particularly amused when the spice had overwhelmed her human palate and she’d sought succor from the heat in her tankard of her light ale. Her pain had broken the tension at least.
Autumn had grown closer to Nethlia over the last few days. Enough that she felt comfortable asking a few curious questions about her statuesque companion. “So, you said you were an adventurer once, right? Why did you retire? You didn’t take an arrow to the knee, did you?” she joked.
“Nah, nothing like that,” Nethlia shook her head. Plucking fruit off the tree, she tossed it into the basket Autumn was holding. The poor witch was a little too short to reach the ripest fruits. “Not to brag, but I was quite good at being an adventurer. Good enough to spend a dozen-or-so years making a living from it. I was a berserker, if you couldn’t guess. Anyway, I had some bad experiences whilst exploring Dungeonhold that made me reevaluate my life.”
“What happened? If it’s not too rude to ask.”
For a moment, the demoness said nothing, just stared at the fruit in her hand. “I lost some people. I don’t really want to talk about it. But that wasn’t why I retired. My mother passed away – she was the owner of the inn before me. It was a sickness. It was a big shock to the community. She died in her mid-two-hundreds.”
Autumn blinked. Her mind stalled. “Two-hundred?” How long was a year in this world? There seemed to be the same amount of hours in a day, although she didn’t have a watch to check. Was there still 365 days to a year? If so, how long did demons live for? “H-how old are you?”
“Hmm?” Nethlia hummed, taking a bit off guard. “I’m fifty summers this year, I think? Yeah. Why? How old are you?”
“I-I’m only seventeen. Well, probably eighteen now – my birthday was somewhere a few days ago,” she said. She might be wrong. A year could be really short here for all she knew, but after staying in the Feywild, she could be anywhere between seventeen and who-knows-how-old.
“So young?”
Autumn shook her head. “Humans only live for about eighty-to-ninety years if they’re lucky. At least they do from where I’m from.” She wasn’t technically lying. “Eighteen is considered the start of adulthood in my country. What about you? How long do your people live for?”
The towering demoness hummed. “Roughly five-to-eight-hundred years thereabouts. Empress Zarissa Vassira is 549 this year, and Orzon has to be pushed nine-hundred at least.”
“How old?!”
“Eh, I’m exaggerating a little,” Nethlia shrugged. “But he’s ancient even by our standards. He’s older than the Empress at least.”
“Wow,” Autumn gasped.
The demoness seemed a little embarrassed by Autumn’s fascination. She rubbed the base of her horns awkwardly. “We’re not even the longest-lived race around. Elves can live for a thousand years or so, and I’ve heard that gnomes are immortal, but I think that’s just a rumor. They never leave their island. I don’t know if you saw it coming in.”
Immortality? Such a concept seemed absurd to Autumn. But then again, so was the fact that she’d been taken from her home into the Feywild, and that she’d escaped it. “I can’t even imagine living forever?”
“I think I’d probably get bored after a while,” Nethlia shrugged. “Anyway, I took over the tavern and have been here ever since, and probably will be until I get tired of this place. Still, someone had to take care of these folks. Orzon couldn’t cook to save his life.”
Guilt coiled in Autumn’s chest, strangling her heart. Not for the demoness beside her, but for her own life. She’d lost someone dear to her too. Two someones. She couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe. It wasn’t until she stole the rising panic from her breast and secreted it into the darkest depths of her hat that she regained the will to speak. “I, uh, I lost m-my mother too. Recently, that is. And my father before her. So I know what it’s like.”
Nethlia was silent beside her as she listened to Autumn’s heartfelt words. “Thanks. You don’t have to force yourself on my account,” she smiled. “You’re a good person, you know that. No, I’m serious,” the demoness said as Autumn went to deny it. “I’m glad to have met you.”
It felt like there were flames burning Autumn’s cheeks. Soft golden eyes met her black orbs when she looked up. “Y-you too. I’m glad to have met you as well.”
An air of amity saturated the space between them. The human and demoness gazed at each other, thinking strange thoughts. A tight bond silently formed. Fate’s meddling grasp. Autumn ducked her leather hat low to hide her brightening cheeks, tickling her nose with darksome locks.
Together they wandered their way back to the inn to deposit the fruits and prepare the evening meal. Nethlia cleared her throat. “Uh, I’ve been meaning to ask – how exactly does your magic work? I know wizards need spellbooks. Does witchcraft work the same way?”
“Kinda,” Autumn hummed as she thought of what to tell the demoness. She already knew of magic and that Autumn was a burgeoning practitioner, so sharing couldn’t hurt. “Uh, it, um, uses emotions. Specific emotions. Mine and other peoples, if they agree to trade for them. Bargains and all that, you know? Not that I've ever made a deal.”
“Huh, that’s interesting. Specific emotions? Do you use a particular one?”
Autumn chewed over her thoughts as she helped dice up a few of the strange vegetables . She wasn’t ashamed about her choice of emotion she was currently primarily using, but she’d chosen it in the heat of the moment, and most people would be wary of her because of it. Still. “I use fear.”
“Fear huh?”
“Yeah. Pretty scary, right?”
Nethlia nodded. “Scary can be good. Fear’s a good one to choose. People are always afraid, no matter what they tell others or themselves. I can’t think of a fight I’ve been in that I haven’t been at least a little scared. So what, you use it to cast spells and such?”
“Yup,” Autumn popped the ‘p’ as she answered. “Pretty much. I can use other emotions and stuff, but my book says using one exclusively makes it stronger.”
“Makes sense. Like a generalist vs a specialist.”
“Exactly!” Autumn said. “Although, I’m not all that experienced enough to call myself a specialist in anything, or even a generalist.”
“Speaking of experience," Nethlia said as she dumped a load of meat into a pot. It looked like they were having some kind of Chow Mein tonight, although with beef rather than chicken, and duskwheat noodles as opposed to egg noodles. “What are your plans when you get to the city? I know you’re going to sell some stuff, but have you put much thought into what you’re doing afterwards?”
That was a good question. Autumn had been taking what life threw at her so far. Rolling with the punches, and kicks, and tumbles off the edges of cliffs into dark, lightless ravines. She hadn’t put much thought into what she was going to do once she made it to the city other than sell off her loot.
Her ultimate goal was to return home, but she suspected that would be an expensive and time-consuming prospect. “Uh, not really, I was going to see if any jobs were going. After I see how much I can get at the alchemists. I’ll probably need to find a place as well. Do you know any good inns there?”
“I do, but I don’t know if you’ll be able to find a job willing to hire you. Sorry,” the demoness winced.
Autumn frowned. “What? Why? I’m a hard worker, and I know magic! Sort of. I could make a good herbalist or alchemist’s assistance. Are witches that prejudiced against? Around here, I mean.”
“No, it’s not because you’re a witch, although people are wary around you guys, uh, girls, mostly because they get you lot mixed up with hags. It’s…because you’re human,” the demoness finally admitted. “Look, it’s clear that you’re not a Southern Human, given that you’re here and not trying to kill everyone in sight, or a Bearmaw raider, for the same reasons, but other people might not think that way or even can tell the difference. The wars have been hard on everyone.”
“Wars?”
Nethlia nodded. “Yeah, well, it’s a series of wars. Here, stir this for me,” she said, handing Autumn a wooden spoon and gesturing to the cookpot. “I’m a little surprised you haven’t heard of them, they date back to the beginning of the Echea Empire, thousands of years ago. Hmm, the last battle over the Ironspine mountains was…thirty years ago, I think. Before you were born, at least.”
“What, so people are going to think I’m from there?” Autumn asked, disgruntled.
“Unfortunately. Granted, you’ll find less anti-human rhetoric up in the north than if you’d traveled to the border or even the capital.”
Autumn sighed. “What am I going to do then?”
Humming, Nethlia taste-tested the food. She frowned. Splitting a portion off, she added more spice to the other before tasting it again, giving a satisfied grin. The milder portion was for Autumn. The demoness cook had been learning more about what humans could and couldn’t eat over the past few days. “What about the Adventurers’ Guild? They have branches in most cities across the known world, and they take almost anyone.”
The Guild of Adventurers was a staple of modern fiction and fantasy games. When Nethlia had previously mentioned that she’d been an adventurer, Autumn hadn’t thought that it’d be an actual career she could think about joining. “Really? They’d take me?”
“Sure,” the demoness nodded, bobbing her horns. “The only people they don’t take are criminals. If you don’t have a sponsor who can vouch for you, you have to wait up to a week for them to look into your background. And there is a small sign up fee of about two gold. A little expensive, I know, but on the positive side, if you join up, you can stay in their dorms for free.”
Unfortunately for her, Autumn only had a single gold, but she still had a pack’s worth of various alchemical ingredients to sell. However, more pressingly, she didn’t have a background in this world for the guild to investigate. She needed a sponsor. Fortunately, there was a former adventurer right beside her.
“Uh,” she hesitated. “Would it be possible for you to sponsor me? If it’s not too much trouble. I’m not a criminal or anything like that, I just don’t have much money to pay both the fee and survive for a week in a city.”
Nethlia dithered. “Well, I’ll try…it’s just that…I don’t know how much sway I have, seeing as I’m retired and all. If it doesn’t work out, I could ask around for anyone who owes me a few favors.”
“I’d appreciate it! I’ll pay you back!”
“You don’t have to do that,” the demoness waved her off. “You’re paying me back plenty already. Honestly, a guest shouldn’t work. Anyway, dinner's up.”
The aromatic smell of cooked meats and noodles had steadily filled the room as they talked, and now was near overwhelming. As Autumn had already paid this morning, she got her own bowl of – she was just going to call it Demonic Chow Mein, the mildly-spiced version.
Taking her place beside the fireplace on a soft, timeworn cushion, Autumn quickly tucked into her meal while the other demon farmers streamed into the inn. Some still cast wary looks her way, but most simply either ignored her or nodded her way. A few even inquired about paying her to fix a few things for them tomorrow.
Tomorrow would be Autumn’s last day within the hamlet. Nethlia was heading to the city tomorrow morning to sell a cartload of items at the market, mostly horns and hides, and she’d agreed to take Autumn with her.
She’d never forget the time she’d spent here. It’d been a balm upon her shaken spirit and saddened soul.
…the spice was a bit much, however.
Despite her best efforts, Nethlia had over estimated Autumn’s ability to deal with spicy flavors, and the witch’s demonic-made meal unleashed a devastating fire in her throat. The dark ale she gulped down like water quenched the burn as she breathed like a dragon, much to the quiet amusement of the locals. As recompense, Nethlia gifted Autumn another drink at the inn’s expense.
The ale today must’ve been particularly strong today as Autumn’s cheeks quickly turned rosy and her heart felt light and gay. Under her breath, she started humming an earworm tune. She wasn’t the best singer in the world, but she wasn’t terrible.
“That’s a pretty tune,” Nethlia said as she sat at Autumn’s side. “Does it have any lyrics?”
Autumn startled, having forgotten the demoness was there in her haze. “Oh, um, yeah. It’s a song my…foster-sister used to listen to all the time for a while, so it kinda got stuck in my head.”
“Can you sing it?” the demoness asked. Around the room, the other demons looked over curiously. “We don’t get many bards around here, so a little entertainment wouldn’t be bad.”
“I’m not a very good singer,” Autumn wavered. The courage of liquor was pushing her to accept and perform.
Nethlia shrugged. “Neither are these lot. You don’t have to if you don’t want to. There’s no pressure.”
Despite her words, the demons around the room looked eager. Letting out a huff, Autumn cleared her throat, taking a sip to wet her singing voice. “Alright, fine. It’s called the Monster Mash.”
Humming the tune, she found her voice even and steady, much to her surprise. “I was working in the lab, late one night~” To Autumn’s shock, not only was she singing in Infernal, but she was also doing it extraordinarily well. Right, she guessed ‘song’ was a language too.
“He did the monster mash~”
“It was a graveyard smash~”
The farmers and demoness beside her were enraptured like sailors caught in a siren’s call. Their attention battered against the rocky shore of her melody. Drowned in her harmony. She sang the song that’d plagued her mind for months after her foster-sister, Trian, had blasted it in aggressive belligerence to drown out the rest of the house.
Honestly, it was the least aggressive of the songs she’d showered Autumn in ever since she’d arrived in the home.
“Then you can monster mash~”
Autumn’s tipsy head eventually found its way to her pillow when the night came calling. Tomorrow she'll leave and head into a new adventure. Yet, unbeknownst to her, she was not alone, for something lingered and leered under her bed.