Witch's Gambit

When I was a child, a monster cursed the lands around my home; The crops rotted. The ground was cold.The trees died. It wasn't enough to only spoil our home. No. Our people were corrupted with hatred and sickness. 

And then one day, a brave Witch arrived. And for three days straight she warred with the beast that had ruined our home. He was slain. Taken into the land as an offering to purify the ground and people. 

It was a time for celebration. However, before we could give thanks The Witch mysteriously vanished, leaving only her cloak, hat, and staff, sitting upon a scarecrow in the village's corn field. 

She was beautiful and strong, And I was going to grow up and be just like her. 

“Boys can’t be witches” 

“Then maybe I’m not meant to be a boy!” 

I said that when I was 10 and I’ve frequently thought about it when I’m alone. I think about it a lot.

Technically anyone, with the right application could cast magic. But only women could be witches. 

I wasn’t a woman…

Chapter 1

Her name is Roxanne. 

The sound of the train has been constant. I try focusing on it to keep myself distracted from what I’m doing. The trip has been 10 hours or so...at least I think. I fell asleep somewhere during it. 

I’m holding tightly to the wooden staff, thinking about it heavily. I’m tired in a way I’ve not been tired before, and I sincerely have no clue what the heck it is I’m doing, or..I at the least have no clue how it is I’ve managed to make it this far without combusting into flame.  

I stare into the bright green gem fixed upon the tip of the staff, rotating my hand, slowly seeing my reflection glimmer and shift in the facets of the stone. Peridot. This is what the gem is called. I’d read a book about them years ago, but only for a day before it seemed to blink out of existence after I put it back on the shelf in the village library  

A knock at the door; it’s dinner. 

Chicken noodles, Lemonade. 

My voice is…scratchy with my awkward attempt to pitch it up, I’d been avoiding saying anything to the attendant so I kept the small talk to a minimum “Thank you” and “I appreciate it.” 

I bathed before I left but I feel like I didn’t scrub hard enough.

The noodles are salty, and hot. I try to offset it with a little pepper…it sorta works. 

How did I get here? I stare at the staff, having now propped it against the bench on the opposite side of the roomette from me, thinking about everything it represents. Past. Future. This weird nebulous present I’m floating in now. 

****

One week prior to my journey I caught myself staring at it, and so did my father. 

“Come on Boy, we got fish to fry, dont get lost in your head…” he said as he tapped me with one end of the pole carrying the day's harvest that was supported over his shoulder. “Can’t stop to look at the sunset with all the work ahead.”

The growing season had ended, and my village of Olmsteady was in the midst of harvesting everything it could before the cold came in a few months. Every day had been the same..long..slow, painful trudge through warm days of fluctuating humidity, i could feel the hair on my skin growing..thick..my fingers..harder. 

I blink, and me and my father are home now. My mother and sister serve dinner. My face is itching. Every time I shave the itch takes a little longer to settle in, and the more I realize that the more nauseous it all makes me feel. 

“Harvest go good?” I hear the question asked by my father as we eat the noodles and sausage meal my mother made. 

My father responded with kudos to me, giving my back a fatherly slap of satisfaction as he said my name. “Yep, we did a lot of hard work today. Think we might be able to get the fields ready for the winter by this time next month.”

It was only the second week of the month. 

I wasn’t averse to work. I wasn't opposed to the hard work either, I’d done this for the past seven years of my life, and yet something about the words coming out of my dad's mouth sat in my head like a wet leaf. Soggy, gross, and limp. 

I blink again. I’m in my room, drawing a sketch of one of the wild animals I see out in the woods. A ‘franchit’ is what we always called the long feline with eyes that shined like the moons above. In times like this I often wondered about the stories..they didn’t show up until after the demon was slain, and no one in the village ever knew why. Then one day ‘Wheeler the wise’ showed up to visit his family and then we heard that name ‘Franchit’ was part of a longer classifying name, but i couldn’t remember it, and most of the people here weren’t much to learn it. 

I remember getting to talk to Wheeler the wise, asking him a million questions, and asking him where he’d learned so much in the time since leaving the village. 

“Arons School for Might and Magic” I hear the name of the school as my feet drag over the hardwood floor of our house. Sleeping had been restless with my stressful dreams. 

“Academy of…might and magic” my mother corrected my father. As they talked. 

“It’s the same thing,” he said “How the heck his parents even afford that place?” 

“I think it’s a grant. You know how Wheeler was a successful graduate from the place.” 

“And that means they get special treatment? And hell why do they even need their kids going to that place anyhow, just puts impractical nonsense into the kid's heads.”

“Honey!” my mom's scolding tone kicked in at that. I sat down and took up the bowl of scrambled eggs, trying to unobtrusively get the hot sauce. 

“Magic is all well and good, but I’m betting you none of those slick stick-using wizards have ever worked a hard day in their lives” 

“Dear…it’s too early..besides if you work yourself up like this so early in the morning you won't have energy for the rest of the day” 

I faded out as I blinked again and was working in the fields, pulling up potatoes one moment and then tossing bushels of apples into carts. 

Arons Academy of Might and Magic. 

The name repeated in my head over and over. 

Days went by as I worked, catching glimpses of the staff on the hillside, the grass pristine and fresh, never seeming to grow too high. 

Two days ago. It’s nighttime. 

My feet are carrying me up the hill, dressed in my best shoes, plain clothes that are as clean as I can get them to be. 

I stand at the threshold, the spot at the top of the hill overlooking the entire village. Mere feet away from the staff, hat, and cape. 

It looked as colorful as the day I’d first laid eyes on them held and draped by the brave witch from my childhood. The teal-colored fabric billowed in an unseen wind. The flat-topped hat with the wide brim only ever seemed to tip from side to side every now and again in the breeze, never having once been pulled from its place. 

It had been ten years since the first time I’d seen the staff and its companions perched here undisturbed. Despite my dad's dislike for it, we all held the legendary witch in high esteem, and no one had dared suggest to remove any of these things from where she had left them. 

It was a mark of respect. And honored our communities history. And I was going to steal it. 

The first step was the scariest. The grass was always greener, slick with dew that shined under the nighttime sky in a way that felt preserved by the ambient magic of the artifact in front of me…but that first step, once I made it the second came quicker. 

My real fear lay with what would happen when I touched any of these things… I assumed no witch would just leave her things without something to keep them safe. My mind reeled with all sorts of ideas; curses, hexes, brandings, alarms that might go off. A summons…for all i knew this staff could be all that was keeping the demon that plagued the village at bay. 

With nerves fraying at the end my shaking hand made contact with the hat. I quickly pulled it from the staff, thumb gently rubbing across the fabric, it was a soft smoothness I’d never felt before. I tilted it up and laid it over my hair, feeling a sense of purpose fill me. 

I took the cape…looking at the string to secure it. I smiled as I felt the theatricality of it, flourishing it over me and quickly tying it into place without a thought pulling up the staff and pointing it at the midnight horizon. 

I hadn’t felt myself smile like that since I was a kid. 

****

The train slowly crawls to a stop in the station, and the line of people slowly march their way out, I grab my ‘luggage’, a fistful of shirts and a skirt I stole from my sister. No one seems to take note of me as I walk out and away. 

My stomach is a tightly wound knot that were it not for having thrown up hours early I’d have sprinted straight to the restroom. 

My one free hand scratched nervously over my face, cringing inwardly at the friction caused by what little hair is left on my cheeks as I make my way through the busy sidewalks. 

The tiny voice in the back of my head yelled loudly “Go back! They’re going to find you! You’re an absolute idiot thinking this was even worth trying!” 

I squeeze tightly around the staff in my fist. She wouldn’t quit. I never knew her name, but I know she wouldn’t quit this soon into a plan. 

If I was going to be like her then I certainly wouldn’t either. 

I looked at the local map on a wall outside the station, observing the direction and how big the place was. Contact information to get a ride anywhere. Notable locations and…Arons Academy of Might and Magic. 

I guess this is where my life was going to start. 

Following my nose to a nearby food stand I order a sandwich, The person running the thing asked for my name.

“Roxanne. Roxanne Vangrove”  it Gave me goosebumps.