LAVANTSA

#2 - Charity, page 1

            Charity was preparing medicines for the local townspeople, while Smithy, her kind companion, cooked their supper over a fire in the chimney, when the jackdaw landed beside Rona the phoenix in the wide nest Charity had fashioned for her and placed on a table. Rona squawked indignantly, pecking in the direction of the jackdaw until it flew to stand on the stone one of the keep's two windows.

"Hello, Jack," said Charity, amused, seeing the tube strapped across the bird which would contain a message from his owner, the Great Sage, Charity's former tutor in magic, Melindor. She walked over and removed the scroll from the tube; she then placed a small bunch of berries before Jack and proceeded to unroll the parchment.

My dear Charity,

Unfortunate tidings: namely, that the Lavantsa has left the Eye, her guard of ice-witches slain by we know not whom. In case she should roam northwards, leaving the mountains, I have advised the Kinf of Meridia to form a small army to counter her, consisting of yourself, the dragons of the North and the white fox of whom I have heard tell, dwelling in the Western Forest. If it please you, send acknowledgement of this message and begin the hourney to Meridia, where we will base our defence.

My thanks,

Melindor,

Great Sage and Counsel-Giver of the King of Meridia

Charity's palms felt to grow warm and flames caught the edges of the parchment between her fingers. She quickly released the message and trod the fire out. She had become anxious enough that her magical powers had manifested. She closed her eyes, took deep breaths and pictured in her mind's eye Smithy, that flaxen-haired gentle giant, stirring the stew in the pot, calmly and rhythmically. The warmth was replaced with cool air and she opened her eyes to see that there were no longer flames upon her fireproof fingertips.

"Smithy, I must depart," she told her friend, turning to face him. He was apparently already watching her, his brow furrowed in concern. "A dangerous being threatens these lands."

Smithy moved the pot from the fire with the hand wearing a tough hide glove and rose to his feet.

"I shall sharpen my sword."

"No, there will be too much peril. And magic is required, against this foe."

His catlike mismatched eyes, one amber, one cerulean, did not waver from hers.

"I will defend you against any foe which lacks magic."

"Your strength may be needed here." Charity was anxious to find the protest which would change Smithy's mind: she could not bear the idea of great harm befalling this friend of all human life. The world needed people like him, to be changed into a better, more peaceful place. Beside all that, his death would devastate her, like the death of her parents and brother had, all those years ago. Being that Smithy had been the one to comfort her, to bring her away from a realm of despair, she could not know how she would find hope once more, should he lose his life.

"There are other strong persons in Vander, Charity. I could say to you who will make the people's medicines? But the truth is that others may take our place. We may both undertake this journey, and it is the desire of both of us to lend whatever assistance that we can, for our hearts long to help others."

Charity turned away. Smithy spoke too well. What could she say to him now? Flames tickled her palms within her clenched fists.

"Smithy, you are like a brother to me: I cannot lose you."

"And you are like a sister to me, Charity. I cannot learn of your death from afar. I beg it of you: do not ask me not to come. It will cause me unbearable pain."

Charity walked over to the window, where she saw that Jack had finished his berries. She looked across the plains of Vander and the surrounding land, robed in the colours of Meridia's autumns. On the horizon, she saw the mist-like forms of the Terrible Volcano, and felt the fire in her own belly: a feeling of torment which she wanted to burst out of her in angry shouting, bursts of flame and anguished tears. An eruption which could only be destructive.

She envisaged rain: cool water gently dappling her face, placating grey skies and a breeze in the air which carried away the darkness inside her. Who was she to force Smithy into a course of action which he disliked? Who was she to bring about his misery, in the name of her own consolation?

"You may come," she told him, with no small amount of reluctance. "But we will say no more of it until the morrow. We shall sup. I will finish making the medicines and, at last, we shall sleep."

A moment of silence elapsed, during which Charity wrote a message to Melindor and put it into Jack's message tube - his cue to leave.

Smithy was the one to end it. Calmly he told her "The stew is ready to be eaten now."

***

Upon the morrow, Charity distributed the medicines which she had prepared and gave instructions to the other mature witch in the town, a young man who tutored young witches in magic, on how to prepare them, and to whom in Vander to give each medicine and how often. Smithy visited his parents' forge, picked up a shield and a vest of chainmail, and borrowed from them a chestnut stallion. Rona the phoenix was also to come.

Once beyond the town's walls, Charity removed her tunic, so that abover her waist she wore only a stretch of fabric for comfort's sake, which covered her breasts and was tied at her back. She extended her arms and bid wings to grow out of her, calling to mind the fire deep inside her spirit's heart, as well as the beautiful scarlet wings and the graceful flight of Rona. Feathers grew on her arms and back, and the bones of wings protruded from beneath her shoulder blades, becoming wings capable of lifting a human into the air.

Charity opened her eyes and moved her arms experimentally. Her feet rose from the ground, giving her the impression of having no weight, and alighted when she did not continue the motion of her arms. She ran slowly along the road, flapping her wings, and leapt into the air, climbing, leaving Smithy to gape in wonder below her. Rona flew beside her, easily keeping pace, for Charity flew slowly, not wishing to tire the horse which Smithy was riding. She scanned the ground with care, alert for suspicious-seeming people who might wish to rob Smithy of his animal or coin.

But no one had interrupted their journey when they stopped by a stream for food and rest while the sun was at its highest point.

"What is it like, in the sky?" asked Smithy, as they chewed on cooked salmon.