A Fall of Ashes: Chapter II, Slave or Apprentice
Magic is dangerous. But Ashes choices are limited, learn magic, or become a tavern whore.
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Cooking food tickling her nose brought Ashes from a deep sleep and her eyes snapped open. Deep evening shadows covered the ground.
This wasn’t home.
A creek ran next to her; her hair was wet, and she was naked.
It all came back.
A voice she didn’t know said from behind, “Good, I see you’re awake. You had several breaks, including a badly fractured skull. I healed them, but you used up all your energy reserves. Eat, then we will talk.”
Ashes’ head snapped around. That voice belonged to the old witch of the woods. She forgot she lived down in the gorge.
Maybe the old witch had some old rags around she would let Ashes have. “I have lost my clothes and I don’t think they will be there if I go back for them.”
The old woman cackled. “The only thing waiting for you if you try going back right now would be a slave’s collar. I said eat, then we will talk. Then I may give you something to wear.” This time the woman pointed to the pot hanging over the fire beside her and the bowl setting near.
Ashes hadn’t realized the witch was strong enough to heal bones. She ran her hand over where she broke it in the stream. It was now healed. Conscious of being nude, she got to her feet and went to the cook pot.
The rabbit stew smelled great. Filling the bowl, she set to eat.
Ashes devoured her third bowl before her stomach stopped demanding more.
The old woman addressed her then, “I told you; you used up your energy reserves. Now you have put some of them back, we will talk.” The woman paused, then went on. “I don’t like it. You are going to hate it. Just in case it hasn’t got through that thick head of yours. You’re a slave now.”
Her breath caught in her throat.
The woman went on. “You became one the moment you took your clothes off in public with three or more watching you. Case Ironknife has already registered you as his legal property and all six members of the town counsel of Cold Fork approved it.”
Ashes felt as if a knife had been driven deep in her gut. Being a serving slave in a big manner wouldn’t be that bad. Her mother had been one before dad took a fancy to her and convinced her owner to sell her to him for marriage. But that was not the same thing as a wench in a tavern.
“Damn that Hammer.”
“Exactly. He got part of the money for you from Case up front, then he is to get ten percent of everything you earn him working in the back rooms of his tavern for the first five years as a finder’s fee.”
“Dad will kill him.”
The old woman cackled again. “Nonsense. The most your dad might do would demand he receive that payment from Case instead of Hammer. Case might even do it if your dad promises to sell him a few of your sisters when they are older. Knowing your dad, he might just do that.” She paused again. “Case still has men looking for you out there. Only my wards are keeping them out.”
“Damn, what am I going to do?”
“Case is a better owner than most, once he gets girls broken in. His girls never go hungry, and he sees that they get yearly spells put on them that keep them disease and child free. He only beats girls that are disobedient, and he doesn’t cater to people that hurt girls for fun. Most owners do far worse with the sluts they own. You could start back up the creek until his men find you.”
“Become a tavern whore! No, I would rather be dead.”
“That is option two. Add the leaves of the bush right next to you to a bowl of stew and it would put you into a sleep you would never wake from. Option three is to make a run for it. Four hours after midnight, the moon comes up. You might make it out of the gorge and down the road in that time. If you do that, I rate your chance small of not being made a slave by someone, most likely someone worse than Case in the next few days.”
The old woman was quiet for a time as Ashes considered the choices she had been given.
Then she heard hushed words, barely more than whispers. “Or there is option four. Pass my test and become my apprentice.” The old woman’s’ voice strengthened again. “I don’t want another apprentice. That is why I took up living in these woods. Especially one so stupid as to strip anyplace that could be called public. But when fate drops an injured girl with a strong mage gift on my porch, I will make an exception. If she can pass my test.”
“So, I would be your slave.”
“If that is how you want to look at it, then yes. You are fifteen, so probably only for the next five years. Most girls can pass the sorceress test in that time. You pass that and your apprenticeship ends, and you are your own mistress. That is, if you can pass my test to begin with. I am not going to take you out of pity. You have to prove to me you can, and will, learn to do magic.”
The old woman’s voice became even harder. “But even if you manage to become a sorceress, you won’t like being one. The levels of pain and risk involved are not worth it. I guarantee the things you will find out give you nightmares. You would be better off taking one of the other options. I am old, very old. I have seen too much. Forget being an apprentice. Just go back upstream and accept Case as your owner. You won’t be happy, but you will be less unhappy than you will as a sorceress.”
Ashes swallowed hard. “Please accept me as an apprentice.”
“That was test one. You asked to be an apprentice. I will accept you as my apprentice only if you pass the others. On the chest next to the door sets a candle in a candleholder. Bring me that and I will give you another test.”
Doubt filled Ashes as she climbed to her feet. She was very aware of her nakedness and the old witch watching her. Was she right? Would Ashes be better off if she let them make her into a whore? Taking a step toward the door, all those tales of witches and such being burned alive came back to her, and she stopped. Yes, being a whore would be better than that. But not all witches were burned, or even most. She took another step, then stop as the tales of summonings gone wrong and the horrors that happened because of them came back to her. What she saw was too vivid, and she understood that these thought and vision were magic was part of the witch testing her.
It was also a warning. The power would turn on her if she wasn’t careful and didn’t stop trying to take shortcuts. She saw herself making a mistake and all of Oak Well being devoured. She almost turned around then and headed upstream. Steeling herself, she stepped through the open door.
The mirror next to the chest caught her attention. It was the first full-length mirror she had ever seen. It showed her what everyone else already saw.
She was a whore.
None of the guys interested in her were interested in her for marriage, just fucking. If that hadn’t been true, she would not have been using the tactic she did to push them in to asking to marry her. Hammer hadn’t made her a whore, only seen she was one, and tried to profit from it. Even if she became a sorceress, she would still be a whore, just one that knows magic.
She turned back to accept her fate at the tavern when one last vision came. If she did that her father would accept that his whore wife birthed whore daughters. He would sell every one of them to Case when they reached fourteen years of age. Maybe as an apprentice she could prevent that. Taking a deep breath, she picked up the candle in its candle holder and went back outside. It had reached full dark out when she knelt before the witch, and held out the candle. She also understood and accepted her place now to be kneeling before her mistress.
“Maybe there is more to you than appears. I didn’t expect you to pass that test. I had hoped that fate put you there to take the test and fail and accept your place in the tavern without anger. If the anger is strong enough, your mage gift could make you manifest things even without training.”
“Do you accept you are a slave now, with only a chance to become my apprentice?”
Looking up into the old woman’s eyes, Ashes understood this woman too saw her as a whore and a slave. “Yes, mistress.”
“The candle and holder you hold are enchanted. All of the power needed to light the candle is contained within those two items. Picture the candle in your mind, lit.”
Ashes imagined a flame atop the candle. “I have, mistress.”
“No, you haven’t. I can feel that. Where do the shadows fall? How much smoke is there? What does it smell like? Is the flame big enough that you feel it on your face?”
“I hadn’t thought of those.”
“Then you hadn’t in truth pictured the candle lit because all of that is part of the candle being lit. As long as you hold that candle, I can tell if you are doing it right.”
Her mistress looked her over. “If you can’t pass this test, then your powers are no danger. You will learn to picture the candle lit or you are not an apprentice but a slave, one that I will hand over to her owner.”
“I will learn, mistress.”
“Before midnight.”
Ashes took another deep breath. “Yes, mistress.” She sighed, and accepted the condition that she failed, as much as she hated the idea, she would accept being handed over to Case and being a tavern whore.
She set to work.
The old woman corrected her thoughts and visualizations over and over. She knew exactly what Ashes failed at each time.
She could feel herself getting closer and closer to getting the candle to light.
Then, not long before midnight, a tiny flame appeared on the wick.
Her mistress snuffed it out.
“Do it one more time and this time say the words, Canta Tomb.”
Ashes did as told, and pictured the candle lit, and said “Canda Tom.”
Water being poured on her face woke her, and she opened her eyes, coughing. “Another mistake like that and I won’t need to do anything but bury you.”
Ashes ached and saw burn blisters all over her front.
Her mistress held the candle. “Canda Tomb,” she said and the candle lit. She blew it out. “You do it now.”
Taking a deep breath and picturing the candle lit, she said, “Canda Tomb.” She felt those words shape the power, and the candle lit.
“Mesta Col,” said the old woman.
Ashes felt the power in those words now. The burns she could see faded.
“Next test passed. You may go inside and open that chest and select one apprentice robe to put on.”
Inside the chest she found many robes of all different colors, cuts, fabrics and with different markings on them. Unlike her own clothes box at home, all these were neatly folded and stacked. She grabbed the top red one with black symbols, then stopped.
Was this a test, too?
Using care so that it stayed folded, she removed it and set it on the floor. The next was black, and of a thicker weave, with dark orange markings on it. That too, she set aside. The white one under it with pale cream marking got the same treatment, as did the brown one with green marking.
The pale yellow one under it was of the sheerest of linens and had golden crescent moons covering it. It was perfect, and she unfolded it and put it on, relieved to be covering herself. Disappointment filled her. It was too large. The hem of it reached almost to the ground, the sleeves well past her hands, and wrapping it left far too much material that needed to be folded back. It would be large even on her father.
Should she put it back and start looking for one that fits better? If a test which was more important? Color? Symbols? Style? Or Fit?
What decided her was she had no idea how to fold it down as small as it had been. If she started trying on the others, she would never get them all back in the chest. Indeed, on putting the others back, the chest seemed too full to accept the robe she had on. Closing the lid, she went back out to her mistress.
“Good choice. The sun and moon robe fit you. Lakando.”
The magic word echoed in the night, and the robe shrank. Quickly the hem rose to just about mid-thigh and the cloth pulled back, so the belt barely kept it close, and her breast threatened to pop out.
Her mistress sighed. “I guess I should have expected that, too.”
“Mistress, why so small?” The hem was shorter than she thought, threatening to expose her with every move.
“I didn’t make it that small. You did. It reflects your view of yourself. When you understand why you made it so, you will be a step closer to fixing that image of yourself. It will make completing your final set of tasks before I accept you as an apprentice much harder, though.”
“What is my final task?”
“You are to take that candle and leave. Whenever someone approaches, light it, showing them you now have magic. You will tell them you are an apprentice sorceress now and they are to leave you be. You will go to Case and make him relinquish his ownership of you to me. Then you will go to the boy Hammer and get your dress and your mother’s thread from him. He still has them. Those you will give to your mother and your sister as you promised. You will then come back here and again kneel at my feet and again acknowledge that I am your mistress now.”
Ashes looked up into her eyes fearfully and dropped to her knees again.
“If you fail to get Case to turn you over to me, understand you will be his. To get this apprenticeship, you must want it enough to face him down. Your image of yourself is part of your problem. Wearing a robe that small and tight, you go there telling him you should be a slave working in his tavern. A word of warning, that is a candle of contemplation. It will make you contemplate things as long as you hold it.”
“I understand mistress.”
“No, you don’t, or you wouldn’t even try. You would just go there and accept your slavery. Accomplish this and I will give you something even more difficult for you to do. As the moon has yet to rise, I will teach you a spell for seeing better at night. Look at the ground a picture it as it would be with the moon behind your back casting a moon shadow on the ground.”
That came easily to Ashes.
“Now say Seaos.”
“Seaos.”
Exhaustion hit her hard, and she caught herself as she started to fall over.
“Congratulation, though only a cantrip you just cast your first spell using only your own power, unlike the candle that uses magic already bound in it.”