Chapter 15 – The Sorcerer and A Change of Plans

“There it is again,” Shara said as the blood-curdling shriek echoed through the woods. “I don’t know what’s making that sound, but it’s not any animal I’ve every heard. How many is that now? I know you’ve been counting.”

“That’s the fifth one,” Tel said, a pink butterfly forming, and the spoon he’d been using to stir the soup pot paused at the latest strange howl. “And it’s getting closer, whatever it is. That last one couldn’t have been more than a mile away, at the most. Normally, in a forest this dense, I don’t think we’d be able to hear that far, but there is a touch of chaos mixed with the sound. It’s carrying the sound far, far further than usual. Do you think we should get moving?”

Shara thought about it for a moment, but shook her head. “A mile away through these woods is pretty far, and we could use a short rest. Let’s eat first and then see where we stand. Traveling in the dark is a good way to break an ankle.”

“Sounds good to me,” Tel said. “Though it’s fascinating the sound is traveling on chaos. Normally sound waves pass through the air, or other substances like water, but get somewhat absorbed by trees and the leaves. With the forest as dense as it is, the breeze we’ve been dealing with today, and the season, I wouldn’t expect to hear much at half that distance. Mind you, there are a lot of other factors that could change those numbers, but…” he trailed off, looking up at her. “I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

“Really, once you get talking, you just don’t stop, do you?” Shara said with a chuckle. The quiet Clocksmith had opened up more and more to her during just the day of travel since they’d left the town. While it’d be nice to think it was her knack for getting people to trust her – and sure, that was probably part of it – it honestly seemed like the guy was just…lonely. Really, really, lonely.

Did he shut himself off from people because he didn’t like them, or was it something else?

“Sorry,” he said, stirring the pot again, the delicious smell wafting up and straight into Shara’s nose.

Whatever he’d put into that pot was amazing!

“That’s three,” she said, her own little pink butterfly forming, though she still had one ear on the forest. If those cries, whatever they were, were getting closer, they needed to be on guard.

Tel cocked his head to the side, thinking, then nodded. “You’re right. It is. And, it’s funny, I’m just now noticing it’s odd you can count.”

“I can’t,” Shara said. “Three is my limit. Anyway, what’s your secret this time?”

Tel seemed to mull it over for a moment, then pointed at the soup he was stirring. “This,” he said.

“The soup is the secret?” Shara asked from the small log she sat on. “Or do you mean all of this?” she gestured around to the tent, the two sleeping bags, the firepit set, and the pack full of supplies the Clocksmith had pulled out of nowhere.

Literally.

“The soup, specifically,” he said, then ladled some into a small bowl. “Try it.”

Shara took the bowl, eying the thick, dark liquid, and the steam rising off it. Was it some kind of stew? But the liquid – if it could even be called that – was way too thick. Did he put mud in the pot when she wasn’t looking? If this was some kind of joke to get her…

“Eating involves taking the spoon out of the bowl and putting it in your mouth,” Tel instructed, and she looked up to find him mimicking the action. “I’m sure you’ve done it before.”

“I think I preferred the quiet, shy Clocksmith version of you,” she said flatly with a scowl, but lifted a spoonful of the “soup” up so she could get a closer look. A chunk of some kind of meat, vegetables, and maybe… a potato? “You had all this in your pack?”

“Yes, and like the seven meat pies you had, it’s all fresh,” Tel said.

“It wasn’t seven,” Shara muttered. How many was seven again? That was less than how many fingers she had, wasn’t it? Still, maybe a little extra training before bed couldn’t hurt her waistline – he’d said seven like it was a lot. Whatever, she took a breath like she was bracing for a fight, and shoved the spoonful of food into her mouth.

There was no way a shy, bookworm, reclusive Clocksmith could make anything…

“Delicious!!” she said as flavor burst in her mouth. “Oh… my… how… did… you…?” she forced the words out between quick spoonfuls of the stuff. The spices crawled up the back of her mouth, setting it comfortably on fire while clearing her nose, but there was also a hint of something sweet in there to balance it all out.

“Try it with a piece of this bread,” Tel said, holding out a flat piece of…something.

Bread? Sure, whatever! She dipped it in and took a huge bite, then practically melted in pleasure.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

“This is amazing,” she said after completely polishing off the bread without coming up for air.

“The secret is the spices,” Tel said. “I… stole them… a long time ago in Little Rock, when I was first figuring my magic out.”

“You stole something?” Shara asked, slowing down to enjoy the food.

“Don’t say it so loud,” Tel hissed. “It’s a secret.”

“Didn’t you just give me all kinds of reasons why nobody should be able to hear me,” Shara said and held out her empty bowl. “Seconds please.”

“That’s fair,” Tel said, taking the bowl and filling it to the top before handing it back to her.

“So, why did you steal the spices?” she asked. “Planning to sell them?”

“Didn’t actually mean to,” Tel said. “It kind of… accidently happened. There were Tailcoats in the city chasing a group of sorcerers. Lots of chaos flying around and I… accidently took an entire spice cart. Didn’t figure out what had happened until… much later.”

“Why not? You’d think a cart vanishing would be pretty noticeable,” Shara said.

“It was… chaotic,” Tel said. “I actually had to leave the city right after. There were Tailcoats looking for sorcerers everywhere.”

“You were on the run?” Shara asked, her own memories of being on the move with her aunt springing up. The constant moving. Having to hide who she was. Leaving the few friends she’d made. Always looking over her shoulder for the black and white.

Just like her mother had to be doing right now.

“For years, until I fell in with the Clocksmiths,” Tel said. “I have a… knack… for fixing things, so it was a natural fit. They gave me a place where nobody bothered me, and more importantly, where nobody hunted me. Until…”

“You don’t have to talk about it,” Shara said softly. “It must still be hard.”

Tel nodded, his mouth a thin line like he was fighting back emotions.

A few minutes, and another bowl of deliciousness later, Shara broke the silence. “Tel, do you know how to fight? Back at Kulio’s…”

The Clocksmith shook his head. “I’m not much of a… fighter,” he said.

“Then I’m going to teach you a few things,” Shara said. “No, you don’t have a choice. My aunt taught me how to take care of myself, and I’m going to do the same for you. Don’t worry, I won’t be as strict as she is.”

“Are you sure it’s worth the trouble?” he asked, his hands gesturing down the length of his body. “I’m not exactly built… well.”

“Maybe you’re a little scrawny – I mean that in the best possible way – but how else can you change yourself? You think I was built any better for it when I started?”

“You’re very well proportioned, so I think you may have had an advantage,” he said, then quickly looked away again.

“I was five when my aunt started. And let’s not even talk about my awkward teenage years. Look, the short of it is you should at least be able to throw a good punch. We’ll start with that, and see where it goes from there,” Shara said.

Tel thought it over, like he always did, then nodded. “Thank you,” he said.

“Oh, I hope you don’t expect it to be free,” Shara said with a chuckle.

Tel nodded. “Of course. The cost will be…?”

Shara pointed at the pot. “You keep cooking stuff as good as that for me.”

“You really like it?” he asked, though he looked only at the pot as he stirred it.

“You better believe I do,” she said. “Do we have a deal?”

“We have a deal,” Tel said. “Do you know much about spices? I have quite a few of them with me. A cartload of them… to be exact.”

“Spices? Not really,” Shara said, finishing off her fourth bowl of… whatever wonderful thing it was. “Herbs, on the other hand, those I know a bit more about. See that one by your left foot? It has kind of red leaves? It’s good to make a paste out of that helps cuts heal faster. That one over there, with the serrated leaves, the long ones, that’ll make you sleep just by putting the leaf in your mouth and chewing it up a bit. You’ll wake up with a major headache though, so I wouldn’t suggest it. And that one, with the small white flowers, it can be used as a weak antivenom. I saw a few other useful ones in the woods too.”

“Wow,” Tel said. “We should write all that down. Maybe add some diagrams.”

“I’ll leave the writing part to you,” Shara said, leaning back and stretching out after the big meal. Ah, that was so good. “Now, hurry up and finish your dinner so I can teach you how to throw a punch.”

“We’re going to start tonight?” Tel asked.

“No time like the present,” Shara said, pushing herself to her feet and stretching her muscles. “We’ll take it easy, we just ate after all.”

Tel put his bowl down and stood up. “So, what am I going to do? Practice punching trees or something?” he asked, looking around.

“Oh, no way. That’s a good way to break your hands,” she said, and the Clocksmith visibly recoiled.

“Break… my… hands? That’s… that’s no good,” he said, shoving his hands protectively under his arms. “I need these to… fix… things.”

Shara scratched at her cheek while she considered that. He had a good point. Even if she taught him well, there was always the chance he’d break something if he was half-as-fragile as he looked. “You might be right on that.”

“No fighting them?” he asked.

“We’ll do kicks. You don’t use your feet to fix watches do you? Cause, honestly, I’d be pretty impressed if you did.”

“Just my hands,” he said, pulling his hands back out from the safety of his armpits. “Do you think I can… do it? Kicks look complicated.”

“We’ll start with something simple,” Shara said, sliding her right foot back and bending her knees, then snapped her right leg forward in a basic straight kick. “Nothing fancy,” she said, holding the pose with her leg extended.

“I’d have already fallen over. Twice,” Tel pointed out.

“Balance will come with practice. C’mere, let’s start with where your feet need to be,” Shara said and waved him over to the side of the camp where he probably wouldn’t kick the pot or fall into the fire. Probably.

“Just try not to laugh too hard when…” Tel started, but cut off as another of those strange shrieks echoed through the trees and set the hair on the back of Shara’s neck standing on end.

“That sounded closer,” she said. “Did it sound closer to you?”

“Much closer,” Tel said, swallowing. “Do you think a kick will help against whatever is making that noise?”

“Honestly, no. Change of plans, we’re moving now,” she said, looking at the camp.

“Don’t worry, I have a few more tents in my dimensional space,” Tel said. “We can just leave this.”

Shara’s eyes settled on the pot. “Wasn’t really the tent I was concerned about.”

“How can you still be hungry?” Tel asked.

Another shriek that set the leaves dancing on their branches.

“Not that hungry,” she said. “Grab what you need and let’s go.”