The Witch's Apprentice: Chapter 18
Heatherholm
In chapter 17, Sarah finally got a lead on the old witch of High Rannoc. According to the queen of the fae, the witch ventured into a place called The Gardens of Ynn in search of the Tower of an ancient wizard named Thalnor. But one does not simply walk into The Gardens of Ynn, so as we rejoin Sarah and her companions, they are making the last preparations to journey to Heatherholm, where they hope to repair an ancient mind-protection amulet.
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Chapter 18: Heatherholm
The next morning, Sarah arrived at the inn to find Henry and Karmora already waiting for her. The air in the common room smelled faintly of baked bread and roasting meat, and sunlight streamed through the tall windows, catching motes of dust as it fell across the worn wooden tables.
Henry was busy sorting through a small pile of gear spread across one of the tables. He waved as Sarah approached, a smile lighting his face. “Morning, Sarah. I’ve got most of what we’ll need here—ropes, flint, extra cloaks, and a few odds and ends. Ran up a tab at Finrik’s in your name, by the way.” He glanced up sheepishly. “Hope you don’t mind.”
Sarah rolled her eyes but smiled. “Guess I’ll owe him.”
Karmora sat nearby, her stout frame taking up most of her chair as she sipped from a steaming mug. “I’ve got food packed for a week,” she said, setting her mug down with a thud. “More than enough for the two of you.”
Lix darted down from Sarah’s shoulder, inspecting the pile of provisions with an exaggerated sniff. “A week’s worth, huh? Hope there’s enough fruit for me.”
Karmora patted his head with a distracted smile. “Don’t worry, I’ve made sure to pack some extra nice pears for you.”
Then she turned to Sarah with a stern look. “I’ve been thinking,” she began, leaning forward. “I still think it’s too dangerous for the two of you to enter the Gardens, but I’ve got something that might help.” She held up a hand before Sarah could speak. “And note that I said might.”
Karmora reached into a pouch at her side and pulled out a small, tarnished object. It was a pendant on a frayed leather cord, its surface etched with faint, swirling designs. The metal glinted faintly in the light, but the pattern was hard to make out. Karmora set it on the table between them.
“This,” Karmora said, tapping the pendant with her thick finger, “is the Broken Amulet of Clarity. Or so the adventurer who traded it to me called it. Bought it off him years ago—he couldn’t pay his tab and was desperate enough to let this go.”
Sarah picked up the pendant, turning it over in her hands. It felt heavier than it looked, and a faint hum of something—magic, perhaps—vibrated against her fingertips. “What does it do?”
“The adventurer claimed it protects the wearer’s mind,” Karmora explained. “Said it wards off disorientation and magical illusions. Problem is, it didn’t work for him. Or at least, not well enough. He’d been to the Gardens and came back more than a little... touched.” She shrugged. “So, I’ve no idea if it’s helpful or how to make it work.”
Lix fluttered up to Sarah’s shoulder, peering at the pendant. “Sounds better than nothing, right?”
“I think I know someone who might be able to tell us more about the amulet,” Henry said, leaning forward and resting his hands on the table. “Back when I was an adventurer, we used to take interesting finds to an old wizard up in Heatherholm. He had a knack for figuring out what things were and how they worked.”
Sarah raised an eyebrow. “Heatherholm? Where’s that?”
Karmora chuckled, setting down her mug. “Not far, girl. A couple of days by carriage. Up past the highlands, just beyond the scree-covered hills. Used to be a place for questing knights and adventurers, back when people still believed in grand quests. Nowadays, it’s quieter. The old castle town’s filled with tourists looking for trinkets and villagers taking on odd jobs to keep things running. Still, some of the folk up there know their stuff—especially about relics and magic.”
Henry nodded. “The problem is, if this wizard is still alive, he’s got to be ancient by now. Honestly, I’m not even sure he’s still alive.”
Sarah looked thoughtfully at the two of them, her fingers brushing the pattern on the amulet. “Well,” she said slowly, “if there’s even a chance he can tell us how to fix this, I think it’s worth a shot.”
Karmora leaned back in her chair, eyeing Sarah with a mixture of amusement and concern. “You’ve got more determination than sense, girl, but I’ll give you this—at least you’re consistent.” She gulped down the last of her beer and pushed her chair back to stand up. “I just hope your luck holds.”
Sarah stepped down from the carriage, her boots crunching against the gravel-strewn roadside. The sharp breeze tugged at her cloak, carrying with it the faint scent of rain and earth. As she rounded the front of the carriage to pay the driver, her eyes took in the gray stone buildings with their steep, slate roofs, rising and falling with the natural curves of the hilly streets.
The wind carried the scent of heather and peat smoke from chimneys across the town, blending with the crisp, cold air. It felt sharper than the milder valley air of High Rannoc, brimming with the wildness of the highlands.
Sarah handed the driver a few coins from her purse.
“Thank ye, ma’am,” he said with a nod. “I hope ye find what ye’re looking for in Heatherholm.”
Behind them, Henry unloaded their packs from the back of the carriage, hefting the bags onto his shoulder. Lix, meanwhile, zipped around with unbridled excitement, darting from one corner of the square to the next. The pixie dragon flitted past a flower stall, then circled a small group of children playing with wooden swords. His bright, buzzing wings caught the sunlight, drawing the attention of a girl clutching a ragged stuffed animal in one hand.
“Look, it’s a butterfly!” the girl squealed, pointing at Lix.
Lix stopped mid-air, turning toward her with an indignant chirp. “Excuse me, young lady,” he said, puffing up his tiny chest, “I am a dragon, not a butterfly.”
The girl tilted her head. “A dragon?” she asked, wide-eyed. “But you’re so small.”
Lix fluttered closer, landing lightly on the edge of a stone trough nearby. “Small?” he said, puffing out his chest. “I’ll have you know, I’m a very important dragon.”
The girl giggled, hugging the stuffed animal to her chest. Sarah couldn’t help but smile as Lix leaned down, whispering something that made the girl nod solemnly, as though she’d been let in on an important secret.
Henry walked over, adjusting a strap on his bag. “Ready?” he asked.
Sarah nodded, glancing at the fading light. The sun hung low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the bustling square. “It’s still early evening. If we hurry, we can find the wizard and get this sorted out.”
Henry shook his head, adjusting the strap of his pack. “There’s a storm rolling in. I’d rather not be out in it when it hits. Let’s drop our gear at an inn first, maybe grab a hot meal. There’s a place I know—quiet, a bit off the main street. Better to wait out the storm and start fresh tomorrow.”
She hesitated, glancing around the square. Everything seemed fine to her—the breeze was cool but hardly alarming. Townsfolk moved about with purpose, pulling carts and covering stalls, their movements more efficient than rushed. The faint whistle of the wind brushed past her, nothing that felt like a storm. Still, Henry was the local, and if he thought something was coming, she trusted his instincts.
“Fine,” she said with a sigh. “Let’s get settled first.”
“This way,” he said, shouldering his pack as he started down a narrow street that led away from the center of town, its worn cobblestones sloping gently upward.
“Come on, Lix. It’s time to go,” Sarah called out and he flitted back to her side.
“She thought I was a butterfly,” he said with mock indignation. “Can you believe that?”
Sarah grinned. “I’m sure she knows all about dragons now.”
“Of course,” he said, lifting his chin. “We have a reputation to maintain.”
After a short walk, they arrived at an inn called The Silver Stag. Its timbered facade was weathered by time, with faded carvings of antlers framing the heavy oak door. Warm light spilled through the leaded glass windows, casting a golden glow onto the cobbled street. The faint hum of conversation mixed with the soft clinking of tankards and the occasional thud of a boot against wood.
Inside, the air was thick with the mingled scents of roasting meat, freshly baked bread, and a faint tang of ale. The common room was cozy but worn, with mismatched chairs tucked around scarred tables. A fire crackled in the stone hearth, its warmth cutting through the chill. Mounted on the walls were trinkets from another age—rusted swords, a battered shield, and the taxidermied head of what looked like a stag.
A tall figure stepped out from behind the bar, talons clicking on the wooden floor. He was some kind of bird-man, his feathers a mix of bright reds, blues, and yellows that seemed to glow in the firelight. His sharp beak curved downward, and his golden eyes lit up as soon as he spotted Henry.
“Henry!” the innkeeper called, his voice loud and warm. His wings lifted slightly as he hurried over, claws tapping against the floor. “My old friend! It’s been too long!”
Henry grinned, stepping forward with an outstretched hand. “Girk! Still running the place, I see.”
“Still standing —and still waiting for you to pay that tab from last time!” Girk said with a chuckle, his feathers fluffing in what could only be described as a cheerful gesture. The two clasped hands—Henry’s dwarfed by Girk’s clawed grip.
The bird-man tilted his head, looking at Henry. “So, what brings you back to Heatherholm after all this time?”
While the two fell into easy conversation, Sarah tried to process what she was seeing. Her mind scrambled for something to say, but nothing quite fit. Beside her, Lix had no such hesitation.
“Sarah, look!” he whispered, though his excitement made him anything but quiet. “A bird-man! A real, walking, talking bird! I’ve never seen anything like him! Do you think he can fly? Or—”
“Lix,” Sarah murmured, still half-dazed. “Maybe let him talk first?”
Girk’s sharp gaze flicked to Sarah and Lix, his head tilting slightly. “You’ve brought company, I see.”
“This is Sarah,” Henry said, gesturing toward her, “and that chatterbox is Lix.”
“A pleasure,” Girk said with a nod, his golden eyes glinting with interest as he studied them. “What brings you and this charming young lady all the way up here?”
Henry chuckled. “We’re in town to see Walmund Gallacher. Any idea where we might find him?”
“Walmund,” Girk said, his tone thoughtful. “I haven’t seen him around lately. Not sure if he’s still in his tower, but knowing the old man, he’ll probably outlive all of us.”
“Thanks, Girk,” Henry said with a smile. “I’ll ask around tomorrow. For now, though, I think we could use a room and a meal.”
“Consider it done,” Girk said, waving them toward a corner table. “Make yourselves comfortable. I’ll have food brought out, and we’ll catch up properly once you’ve settled in.”
As Sarah followed Henry toward the table, she glanced back at Girk, still marveling at the way his feathers glinted in the firelight. Lix perched on her shoulder, muttering about how much he wanted to ask Girk a thousand questions. Sarah had to admit, she was curious too. Heatherholm, it seemed, had more surprises in store than she’d anticipated.
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