Inktober Day 11: Wander

 Chapter Nine

Magda did not question Sir Wendell about this demon again; it seemed to vex him so. As they wandered through the dense forest the next day, however, Magda could not help but wonder about it. There was a demon who people used to worship, in her homeland? These frightening statues used to litter fields in her father’s kingdom? Did any of her ancestors worship this demon? If there were still shrines to him here, did that mean there were still worshippers of him?

They had been walking in silence for a long while when Wendell suddenly stopped her. “What is-” she started, but he clapped a hand over her mouth. He looked at her and put one finger to his lips, his face set hard as a stone.

Then she heard it. Footsteps, rustling of clothes, supplies, weapons. Wendell pulled her toward a little depression in the land at the base of a large tree. They waited there for what felt like ages. The sounds kept getting louder and Magda’s heart kept beating faster and harder. 

Before long, voices began to mingle with the heavy sounds of traveling. 

“Who else could have the blasted thing?” a cracked, tinny voice spoke, somewhere behind them. They heard a scoff.

“Who else?” The scoffing voice spoke. This voice was deeper and clearer than the other. “Were you not paying attention in the least when we sacked the stupid king’s caravan?”

At this, Magda suppressed a gasp, but she looked at Wendell with alarm. He nodded at her silently, his jaw set. He looked like if Magda were not there, he would have liked to jump out and cut these men down right then and there.

“Was I not?” The first man sounded affronted. “Of course I was! I had the most important job! Wait for the king to be otherwise occupied and take the woman with the circlet upon her brow. I didn’t expect her to put up such a fight though.”

“Ha!” a third voice entered the conversation. This one was gravelly, and Magda thought he sounded like the oldest of the three. “Did a woman actually harm you then, brother? Would you like me to kiss it for you?” Magda heard sounds of struggling and assumed the men to be pushing each other. The men stopped walking for a moment. Magda wished they had picked a spot further on to pause their trek.

“You would not be laughing if it had been you!”

“Enough!” The deep clear voice spoke. The struggling stopped. “Well, if you had been paying better attention, you would have noticed a young girl was there.”

“A girl? I saw no girl,” the tinny-voiced man said.

“Well, she was there,” the deep-voiced man said. “Or at least, she was at first.” Magda furrowed her brow and looked at Wendell, who shrugged.

“At first?” The older, gravelly voice said. 

“Yes,” the men made no noise for a moment, waiting for him to continue. “She vanished. When we approached, I saw her flee the carriage with her mother. The next moment, she was simply gone. Not a trace of her. It was as if she vanished into thin air.” The men did not know how to respond to this. “I did not realize then, but it is obvious to me now. It is she who wears the Power of the King, and it protected her then.

“Come now, we must keep moving. We need to find that brat, and soon. The Master is not known for his patience.”

With that, the men moved on, past where Magda and Wendell were waiting. They did not move for some time though. Some combination of caution and deep thought kept them rooted to the spot until well after the men’s footsteps had fallen completely away.

When they finally moved on, Magda could not stop feeling as if the circlet on her brow was uncomfortably warm. She and Wendell did not speak of it, but they both knew it was as the man had guessed. The Power of the King had protected her that day. They both hoped it would continue to do so, as their path appeared more dangerous than they had originally thought.