“Where was that when I was shoveling our way out of the cottage?” said Keir.
“Sorry! I’m still not accustomed to having magic as an option.”
“I’m only teasing. But next time, I’ll let you handle it.”
“Won’t that wear you out?” asked Rinka. “There’s a lot of snow on the road.”
“That’s what the two of you are for. Besides, we don’t need to clear all of it. Just enough for the carriages to maneuver.”
Alison set off down Orchard Lane, her Maid of Honor—a magical conduit—and her husband-to-be—a source of her magic—in tow.
“What about your mother?” called Gwenla after them. “What should I tell her?”
“Tell her we’ve gone to light the world on fire,” said Alison, laughing.
They found Brytak and Alison’s Aunt Rose and cousin Eloise about half an hour down the road to Fossholm.
Poor Brytak, the young orc whose family owned a farm near Herot’s Hollow, was shoveling a path up an icy hill by hand while Rose and Eloise huddled together in the front of the cart, their cloaks wrapped around them for warmth.
Alison hadn’t seen her aunt and cousin in a few years. Rose looked much the same as her mother—brown hair gone mostly grey, short statute, slim figure—but she had much finer clothes. Her husband was a solicitor, as she loved to remind them all every time they saw her.
Her cousin Eloise had barely been a teenager the last time Alison had seen her, but now she looked like a proper young woman. She was nearly as tall as her mother—at least she was sitting down—and her light brown hair, which she’d always worn in twin braids, was now in fashionable curls.
Alison was clearly not the only one who had noticed that Eloise was a proper young woman—Brytak was sneaking glances at her as he worked. And from the looks of it, Eloise was enjoying the attention.
“She’s the right age for him,” said Rinka quietly as they approached. “Oh, how cute that would be.”
“Alison, Rinka, Dr. Ainsley,” said Brytak. “What are you doing here?”
“We’ve come to rescue you,” said Alison.
“With what?” asked Aunt Rose.
Alison hadn’t thought of what she would tell her aunt. Surely even a solicitor’s wife, a thoroughly modern woman, could see the utility in magic in an emergency.
“You’ll see in a minute. Are you both alright?”
“We’re fine,” said Eloise. “Brytak has got us a lot further than the carriage driver did. He says we’re almost there.”
“Not long now,” said Alison. “Thanks for the help, Brytak. Would you mind backing the cart up a bit?”
Brytak effortlessly pushed the cart back with his own muscle. Having heard just what Alison was capable of, he wisely backed out of the way himself.
Then Alison caught the road on fire.
“Oh, Gods! What are you doing?” cried Aunt Rose.
“Is that the old magic?” asked Eloise in an awed voice.
“It is,” said Rinka. “Alison’s quite a witch.”
The fire didn’t catch—the ground was much too wet for that. It simply melted the snow and ice in broad patches, some of it going up so quickly that it sublimated into a patch of fog.
It only took a few minutes to clear the hill. Alison felt the strain of the magic, but she still had a lot more in her. “Let’s go,” she said to Rinka and Keir. “It’s clear the rest of the way into the town,” she said to Brytak. “We’re off to see if anyone else is in trouble.”
“There’s another carriage further in the woods,” said Brytak. “I was going back for them after. Do you think you’ll need me?” He was looking at Eloise as he spoke. Alison could guess how he’d rather spend his day.
“No, we’ll manage,” said Alison. “I’ll see you at the inn later,” she said to Aunt Rose and Eloise.
