The forest was a small, quiet thing that never elicited any interest from the random passerby. It didn't loom or threaten like the giant forests of the coast or spark happiness in the hearts of optimists like those of the north. It was simply there; only a gathering of trees and brush. Despite it's apparent neutrality, the locals knew the forest held more than simply trees and brush. It held more mystery than magic or nature. Few knew the secret the forest held and those who did didn't speak about it.
The forest could only boast of two occupants- outcasts who hid from the nearby settlements. They didn't bother the locals and the locals didn't bother them. One of the outcasts was known as Tracker. He was known by no other names. Very little was known about him. Less was known about the second occupant. A girl. But nothing more than that. Until, of course, the girl passed the thinly drawn line.
The girl joined the school, the pride and joy of the neighboring towns. This provoked extreme anger among all of the supporters of the school. Outcasts should be not allowed education, was their argument. But it fell on deaf ears. The magistrate was set in his ways. The girl, he replied, was a prodigy in magic. It was necessary she join. Outrage erupted soon after. Protests were held and students, otherwise intelligent, dropped out. No one wanted to attend a school with an outcast. Eventually, the protests faded and the students returned to their classes but the feelings would never dissipate.
The girl still felt the effects of the clash six months later.
She stood, silently, at the back of the class as they began an expedition into the woods. Her arms were carefully crossed, her lips set in a measured scowl. She didn't want to make them think she expected them to talk to her. After all, she knew who she was and didn't care to change it. Her hair was normal, brown and dull. She was scrawny, dangerously thin some said, and stiff, as though her bones ached. Her eyes were the only part of her that caught ones attention. The irises were pure black, the pupils invisible even during intense scrutiny.
Her ebony eyes scanned the group. A bunch of fools. It was a class of girls who giggled behind their hands and flipped their hair over the shoulders whenever they saw a boy. They chattered like chipmunks fighting for an acorn. They all wore the same thing, of course. The light blue robes mandated by the school hugged closely to their figures, carefully arranged to catch the eye of any man just happening to pass by.
The outcast's robes didn't hug or crackle crisply like everyone else's. Hers were old and worn, borrowed from an old acquaintance of Tracker's. It didn't matter to her. She wasn't interested in boys or men. No. Her goal was to graduate as soon as possible and rid herself of these gossiping idiots.
A voice pulled the girl's concentration to the teacher at the front of the pack. Not nearly as adept as the white wizards of lore, the woman wore the normal light yellow robe mandated for those educated and graduated in the art of magic. She, like the girls huddled in groups, was prim and perfect, prepared for a wink from any eligible bachelors.
The outcast strained to hear the woman even though she doubted the teacher had anything worthwhile to say.
"Girls! Girls!" The woman clapped her hands in aggravation, hoping to gain the attention of the ignorant girls. She was getting flustered, her face growing red from the effort.
The outcast almost smiled as she watched the chaotic scene carefully.
The teacher took a deep breath. "GIRLS!"
The boorish students fell silent at the outcry, surprised their soft-spoken tutor had it in her.
"Now." The woman smoothed her hair and dress out, trying to regain her carefully structured composure. "As you all know, if you were listening before, it is the first day of the semester! We are starting a new curriculum. That is, understanding the words spoken for spells and the pronunciation."
"Like learning Kurir?" One of the girls blurted out.
The teacher nodded and the girls groaned in unison.
"It's necessary. Without this course you will not be able to begin or maintain a spell correctly. It is the basis of all magic, besides knowing yourself which is what you learned last semester with Master Orno.
"Now, today we will be attempting to begin a spell without knowing the meaning or correct pronunciation. You will cause this sprout to grow into a full grown tree in under five seconds. This is your first grade of the quarter and if you aren't able to make this tree grow you will receive your first failing mark of the semester. Is that understood?" No one spoke up. "Good. I would like a volunteer." No one raised their hand. The teacher flushed slightly and pointed at a girl in the front. "You. You will do nicely. Stand here beside me and study the plant. When you feel you know the sprout well enough you will speak the words 'Ichim coriea domoro'. Understood?"
The guinea pig nodded. She stared at the tree a moment and then began to mutter something unintelligible. Nothing happened.
The teacher smiled and whispered loud enough for even the outcast to hear, "Speak clearly. Spells do not work unless you speak clearly."
The girl licked her lips and spoke louder. Nothing happened. She blushed and tried again with the same result. The other girls began to giggle maniacally as the girl shifted uncomfortably on her feet. She spoke in a shout this time, the consonants more pronounced this time. The girls broke out into laughter.
The outcast frowned, unhappily. This was such a waste of time. She couldn't help but yawn.
After a few moments of unbearable laughter and sly smiles, the outcast had had enough. Enough with school, enough with playing the part of the quiet and obedient student. She didn't care what the others thought, they hated her anyway. So she muttered loud enough for the embarrassed girl to hear. "The words are 'Ichim coriea domoro', not 'Ick him core a dumb'. Listen carefully the next time the teacher says the words and memorize them."
The teacher swirled around quickly, her light yellow robe flying about. "Who said that?" Her eyes were bright with anger.
No one said a word.
The outcast yawned again, raising the teacher's suspicion in her direction.
The teacher raised her eyebrows. "Emiely?"
"Yes?" The outcast replied, a smirk sneaking its way in place of her carefully maintained frown.
"If you think you're so smart, come over here and do the spell yourself."
"Of course, governess." Emiely casually walked past the flustered teacher and embarrassed girl. Finally.
Everyone grew silent. They'd all been waiting for this.
Emiely stood in front of the withered sprout, took a few moments to clear her mind and clearly recited, "Ichim coriea domoro". She smiled and waited in confidence.
The sprout didn't sprout.
"Well, then." The teacher grinned, obviously happy the outcast failed. "I suppose you aren't nearly as smart or talented as you thought you were. Go back to your spot before I decide you aren't worthy to be here."
The students snickered as Emiely stared at the sprout in sorrow. The little orphan girl wasn't as gifted as everyone claimed her to be. Good. They wouldn't be seeing her in class again.
Emiely couldn't help but be shocked. She'd never botched a spell before, even if it was the first time. How could this happen? It was hard enough just getting into magical schools. Only a select few were granted acceptance and, even then, only a few actually graduated. If she failed she would have to shed her blue scholarly robe for the drab gray robe she'd discarded in her closet only six months ago.
Suddenly, she realized this must be how that girl felt.
Emiely turned away from the sprout and began to walk back to her tree. As she passed the embarrassed girl, she truthfully said, "I'm sorry about embarrassing you. It wasn't your fault."
Some girls nearby gasped. "Look," one muttered. "The sprout! It's growing!"
Emiely and the teacher rushed back to the sprout to see for sure. And, indeed, the sprout was getting taller, fuller by the moment. Emiely grinned at the small tree as it grew, beginning to feel her old confidence return.
"Well, I'll be," the teacher muttered as the tree reached her height. "Well, Emiely, it appears you have a little power in you after all." She watched it for a few moments more and then said, "But the trick is getting the tree to stop growing. The words are ordered backward. I doubt you'll be able to accomplish that."
Emiely nodded. She watched the tree grow a little higher as she placed the words backwards in her mind. When she knew she'd gotten them right she said, "Oromod aeiroc mihci". The tree's growth stopped. Emiely turned to the teacher. "Would you like me to return it to a sprout?"
It took a moment for the teacher to respond. "No. No, that is quite all right."
"I will return to my spot then." Emiely turned and walked back to her tree, smiling at the other girls as she went. She'd defeated them for the day. They wouldn't bother her again until tomorrow.
The teacher gathered her wits and addressed the small class. "As you can see, making things grow is a very hard thing to do. One must have the confidence, know themselves, and speak the correct pronunciation in order to accomplish such a difficult spell. Only accomplished mages can achieve such growth. This is what we will be working toward for this first term. We will be accumulating success in word spells and practicing the pronunciation of the difficult language Char. We will not use magic for many classes because one must have a thorough understanding of magic before it is used. To do otherwise is to invite trouble.
"I suggest you take my words to heart, even if you are the few talented among us." The teacher glared at Emiely. "No practicing your magic until tomorrow. Class is dismissed."
The girls began chattering at once. Most of them left quickly, grateful to be going.
Emiely picked up her books from the roots of a tree and turned to leave, when someone called her name. She turned and found the girl, who hadn't been able to do the spell, at her side.
"Hi." The girl blushed.
Emiely decided the girl was perpetually embarrassed. She shouldn't have apologized. "Hello."
"Uh, my name is Palia."
Emiely frowned at the girl's unnaturally white hair. "Did you want something?"
"Well, yes, as a matter of fact, I did."
Emiely sighed. The girl was going to ask her to teach her. Palia probably thought getting into the school was a mistake on the magistrate's part and didn't want to disappoint her parents now that she was in. Coward.
"Actually, I was hoping you might teach me. You see, it must have been a mistake I got into this school because I'm not very good at magic and, well, now that I'm in I don't want to disappoint my parents."
Just I thought. "I see." Emiely began to walk away. She just couldn't bear to help this stupid girl. Stupid doesn't learn.
"Wait! What about helping me?"
"I'm not a teacher." Emiely called over her shoulder. "Why don't you ask the omnipotent teacher back there? She might be able to help you."
Palia whispered, "but she scares me."
Emiely could feel Palia's wide, pleading eyes burning into her back. She held her breath in, forcing herself to remain strong. "Sorry, but I can't. You wouldn't want an outcast like me teaching you anyway. It just wouldn't be dignified."
Emiely quickly turned off the trail and into the woods, her neck beet red. She didn't want Palia following her.
She knew the woods well and wasn't afraid of getting lost. Her adoptive father taught her everything she could ever want to know about the forest and more.
She smiled as she thought of her father. No one knew him by any other name than Tracker and with good reason. He was an acclaimed tracker, famous in fact. Coyotes and convicts alike couldn't elude him. He was also the nicest man she'd ever met. He treated her like his legitimate daughter and friend. He was twice her age, a perfect age for a parent, and cute. She was proud to have him for a father.
Despite his perfect demeanor, he was a social outcast and liked it that way. She supposed that was why he decided to adopt her when she'd wandered to his cottage. They were two of a kind.
She walked faster, not because she was still worried about Palia, but because she wanted to get home as soon as possible. Every moment she spent with her father was a jewel she knew she would savor for the rest of her life.
After fifteen minutes of brisk walking, she reached the small cottage in the sunlit clearing.
It was a quaint area of the woods, perfect for a very small family to live in. The cottage was small and clean. It's color perfectly matched the woods around it so it was difficult to spot. But when the sun shone on it just right, the cottage stood out perfectly. The clearing itself was unassuming when the sun didn't shine. Today, the sun shone with such vibrancy that the house and clearing looked like paradise.
Emiely rushed through the clearing, eager to speak with her father. She pushed the front door open and nearly jumped inside. "Tracker," she called. She hadn't yet gotten used to calling him father. He was still Tracker to her even though she loved him like a daughter. "Tracker?"
She frowned. Tracker never failed to answer her. He was always home when she returned from school. She was no earlier than normal. He should be home.
"Tracker?" She placed her books down on a nearby chair and slowly began to explore the cottage. "Tracker?"
There were only three rooms in the building: the kitchen, Tracker's room, and her own. The outhouse was tucked away in the nearby trees.
After a quick examination of the cottage she concluded that he wasn't home. His riding boots were missing from the stoop and a portion of the newly skinned deer was gone. Must have decided to go into town for something. But what?
Pushing away her uneasy feelings about Tracker's absence, Emiely took off her shoes and closed the door to her room. She picked up one of the books on the floor and cuddled up in her bed. She lost herself in the book quickly, forgetting all about school and Tracker.
She woke from her reverie three hours later. The light was almost gone and her eyes hurt from straining them. She closed the book and looked around.
Even in the dark her room was amazingly bare. The only furniture it contained was her bed, a chair and a small mirror on the wall. It was the bare necessities, just the way she liked it. She smiled as she remembered how surprised Tracker had been when she insisted on leaving the room the way it was before she'd arrived. He was pleased by it, as well, she knew.
Her smile soon turned to a frown when she remembered her return home from school earlier. Tracker hadn't been home, unusual for him.
Emiely climbed off the bed, discarding the book on the floor once more, and walked into the kitchen. It was dark and empty. If Tracker had been home he would have lit a candle or two to brighten the room up now that the sun was descending below the horizon. He would also have started dinner and as soon as she showed up he would call her her loving nickname, Emie, and ask her to finish it. But he wasn't home. The candles weren't lit, dinner wasn't cooking in the cauldron hanging in the small fireplace. The fireplace didn't show any evidence of being lit any time recent.
She frowned deeper, feeling suddenly like the parent waiting for her child to return home. She could feel herself growing more worried and sick to her stomach every minute Tracker was gone.
Emie walked over to the kitchen table where she had glimpsed a set of papers before. There was a sheet of paper with writing on it and a map next to the paper. She lifted the paper and angled it so that what little sunlight still shone through the window illuminated the paper.
The words were messily, even hastily drawn up.
Emie,
Gone on a business trip to Kareuth in Demeuri to find a man, Emithel. Won't be home for several weeks. Don't worry about me. I'm fine. Here's a map so you can see where I'm going.
Tracker
Emie bit her lip. Tracker had never done this before. He'd never left her alone for more than a few days in the entire three years she'd lived with him. Something was wrong. She could feel it.
She glanced at the map and quickly discovered Kareuth, the capitol of Demeuri. Demeuri was the country to the south of theirs. Its real name was Demeuri E Helencae but no one referred to it like that except for in formal engagements. But the country wasn't what she was worried about. Demeuri was a neutral nation, never involved in the arguments between her country and that of the scientific country Saibluai. What she was worried about was the other things the letter referred to.
Gone on a business trip. The only times Tracker had ever had to work, he'd told her he'd be gone and what he'd be doing. He never just left. Whatever it was must have been serious, possibly involving life or death.To find a man, Emithel.
Who was this man, Emithel? She'd never heard of him. He wasn't one of Tracker'sfew visitors. That alone raised suspicion.
Don't worry about me. I'm fine. That was the worst phrase of the letter. I'm fine. Tracker never said anything like that If he didn't want Emie to worry, he'd smile or say something completely off topic, never I'm fine. He obviously wasn't fine. Something was going on, deeper than what he'd admitted. Probably something very dangerous.
Here's a map so you can see where I'm going. This raised a red flag in Emie's mind. He intended on showing her where he was going and when he did something like that it was always a subtle hint that that was what he wanted her to do. He wanted her to go to Kareuth! But why? Was he really in that much danger?
She shook her head in dismay. This was so strange, so out of character. She wasn't sure what to do about it. Should she follow him and risk her life or would she be in danger if she didn't follow his directions?
After a moment of hesitation she rushed to her room and packed a clean robe in a satchel she'd gotten for her birthday from Tracker. She also grabbed her knife and stuffed it inside. If whatever was going on was dangerous she didn't want to be caught unawares. She also snatched up a small purse of coins and a few pieces of deer for the road. She was going to have to travel fast and didn't want to bother with inns or restaurants along the way. She'd have to sleep in the woods, or along the road, something she'd done hundred of times before.
Emie slowly spun around the kitchen to survey the situation. When she was satisfied she'd grabbed everything she could possibly need, she pulled on her shoes and walked out the door, closing it carefully behind her, not even bothering to lock it.