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Strange & Sundry Magics
When freshly graduated witch Velta Quorrie finds the skeleton of the King’s Champion in her swamp, her plans of a quiet life studying magical plants are uprooted. The kingdom of Gishkel will fall to a dark invasion if there is no Champion to defend them. An ancient prophecy says so. Velta might not believe in prophecies, but the ghost of the Champion, Berrick, sure does. He won’t leave her alone until he’s certain the kingdom will be safe.
To Velta, the answer is easy: the king just needs to name a new Champion. When he does, no one is more surprised than Velta when the King chooses her. Now she and Berrick have to figure out how to be a hero using brains instead of brawn.
Sneak Peek
Someone’s skeleton was in Velta Quorrie’s swamp, and she had no idea how it got there. Presumably it had walked, but that just made Velta’s life harder. Now she had to figure out if it had walked there while being a skeleton (ideal) or while still alive (not ideal).
Leaning over the handle of her broom, the young witch peered through the murky water. The gleaming skull looked deceptively close to the surface, cradled in a patch of grasping aloe. Thick tentacle-like leaves wrapped around the skeleton and the golden breastplate it wore.
The aloe was one that Velta harvested from regularly: the gel that filled its thick leaves was incredibly nutritious if you didn’t think too hard about where those nutrients came from. In fact, she’d harvested a leaf from it just a week ago, and the only skeleton the plant had held that day was that of an unlucky fish.
Whoever this was wouldn’t be the first person to die to an aloe. Unwary travellers only had to place a foot too close to one of its leaves and the aloe would wrap around them, pulling the unfortunate soul underwater to drown. The heavy armor would have made escape nearly impossible for its wearer.
Velta bit her lip. If she left now, she could say she didn’t find the skeleton. Whoever it once was, they were important. Someone would come looking, and she could deny she’d ever seen them. Half true, maybe enough to trick her way out of trouble. Whenever important people went missing, it always seemed to be a witch’s fault, even if it wasn’t.
But… Velta made a face. Whoever the bones had been, they had made it far into the swamp. Velta herself went weeks without seeing another gishkellan, and could go days without encountering any of the local fae. This far from the main paths of the swamp, the skeleton might never be found. That could be even more dangerous than reporting it.
With a groan, Velta twisted to reach into one of the saddlebags hanging from her broom. Digging past her day’s harvest of herbs and fungi, her fingertips brushed something cool and smooth. Grabbing the little bottle of sea salt, Velta slipped off her broom and lowered herself into the water. The water that enveloped her legs was still cold, despite the warm weather.
Her feet kicked up a small cloud of silt that quickly hid the white bones below. Freshly fed, the aloe stirred, sluggishly reaching out to wrap a strong tendril around her leg. Her boot protected her from the small lancets that lined the edges of its leaves. Each secreted a mild sap that could paralyse a full-grown stag, but a plant this large didn’t need its lancets to immobilize her. Its leaves were strong enough that it could drag her under.
Unstopping the salt vial, she shoved her hand down as deep as she could without having to put her face into the water. Shaking the little bottle, she let the water dissolve the salt and carry it to the aloe’s base. A second leaf wrapped around her wrist, the little pricks of heat on her arm a warning that if she didn’t act soon, she might join the skeleton for good.
***