The Wayward Witch Chronicles

In adventuring, there was one cardinal rule: Never split the party. Unfortunately, not everyone cared for the rules.

Through the window of the log cabin, the party’s witch-healer Norui deliberated over the ankle-deep snow. The familiar on her shoulder, a white squirrel, chittered a question in her ear in his unintelligible squirrel-tongue.

The long-eared Mani woman answered him: “I think so, Lím.” She scrutinized the clouds, and whatever she read in them steeled her resolve. Squaring her shoulders, she announced, “I’ll go on ahead, and meet you all at Southpoint.”

Disagreement was inevitable, and her primary resistance came from the group’s swordarm and battlecaster, Honjo Vulpes. “Not a chance,” he shot back, lashing his barbed tail. “We barely got through that last fight in one piece.” He shifted his feet; his boots still had the blood spatters to show for it. “When we go, we go together and we take the sleds. If the weather’s good, it won’t be more than a week.”

“That’s too slow. I can be there in three days on my own,” Norui insisted, voice adamant. “We need to send word as quickly as possible. If there’s really a spy in the Order, that ambush was only the beginning– lives are at stake.”

She met Honjo’s thorny scowl with a raised brow, neither impressed with the other. When she didn’t budge, Honjo turned to the other party members to back him up.

Zilla Citrin would rather live in the here-and-now than squabble over the what-ifs and what-shoulds. She propped her feet up (speckled with silver scales, like all those descended of her snake-touched Mani ancestors) and treated herself with a mug of hot whiskey tea. Norui expected that anything that didn’t have to do with battle or pleasure, Zilla wouldn’t care to be involved.

The draconic Redling, Sungie, feigned sleep by the fire, his small body curled up doglike on a bed of his own cloak. Barely out of his boyhood years and timid among his more seasoned companions, their scout did what he did best– spotted the conflict and avoided it.

Honjo then looked to Pip Pip Pop Pip. The bright-blue, frog-like Nuralli was the final member of their party and Honjo’s sole remaining hope for assistance. And if this argument had taken place even a week ago, Honjo might have counted on his support. But things had changed between them, and now Pip could barely look at Honjo without rolling his eyes with contempt.

The swordsman scoffed as he gave up the effort. Gritting his teeth, Honjo puffed himself up and declared: “You candt go alone. That’s final.”

Turning to face him straight on, the witch’s pale gold eyes lit up stubbornly. Norui strove to speak gently for the sake of Honjo’s feelings, but allowed no bend in her words. “Mr. Honjo. You do not get to make my decisions for me.”

Honjo bristled at the rejection. “Well, someone has to make the right call.”

“Oh?” The gentleness boiled away from the witch’s voice. “And that’s you, then? That’s funny. I don’t recall us ever choosing you to be our leader. In fact, all of us joined the Order at the same time, didn’t we?”

She wasn’t wrong. They’d always been an egalitarian group, and that had worked just fine– up til now. But for the first time, they were in an irreconcilable disagreement. Honjo tried reasoning with her again: “You can’t just make the decision for the rest of us. We need to stick together, our healer included.”

“I most certainly can if it’s the right thing to do,” Norui asserted, her voice picking up volume as her temper flared.

“But…!” Honjo reached for a retort, but his hand grasped uselessly in the air. He must have realized by now, his odds of persuading her were vanishingly small. If respect was a currency, he’d frittered away every coin in his pouch. How did he think he looked through her eyes?

Honjo, who had pounced on the first chance for a fight with a monstrous creature on the roadway – Sungie, as it happened, who the healer had to then rescue from grievous injury.

Honjo, who’d hunted a mother deer and brought back its orphaned fawn like it was a delightful new pet, and the healer had broken down in tears for the poor creature.

Honjo, who had earlier that same day thought, wouldn’t it be funny if I made an illusion to disguise our friend Pip as a zombie… after reviving a badly injured Pip from near death. His prank had broken the healer’s trust in him altogether.

Norui was still sick with fury over it. Uncharitably, she labeled him: Impulsive. Immature. Awkward. Without a trace of compassion for his struggle, she watched him fumble for any more convincing argument than “because I said so.” If Honjo expected her to trust his judgment, he’d been playing his cards wrong for days– no, probably weeks.

Honjo gave up words, slumped his shoulders, and tried a pleading look instead. It didn’t land, and Norui turned back to the window again. Slipping on her usual cheery smile, she said, “Besides, it’s not as if I’m ever really alone. Lím will look after me.” Her familiar chittered his affirmation, but Lím’s reassurance didn’t soothe Honjo’s worries.

Decision made, the witch fiddled with the pouch at her belt. “I’ll head out now, while there’s still the whole afternoon to cover ground. Now, since I’ll be gone, let me leave a few healing tonics in case you should run into anything.” She began to draw out bottles of the bright golden potions that she spent all her spare evenings brewing up, one after another. “Here– I’ve enough for two each, and this one for sickness….” The bag at her side was too small for as many potions as she produced, but enchantment worked wonders.

“Hol’ on now.” Their Nuralli companion Pip chose to weigh in after all. He might not stand even a single meter at his tallest, but he had an outsized voice when he wanted to be heard, and he was booming with it now. “I dinnae like the idea of jes’ ye and Lím goin’ off. There’s too much what could go wrong, and be honest lass– can ye make it that distance, that fast, and still be lookin’ after yer safety?”

Lím barked out a hot retort, but Norui paused. She could admit it was an extreme distance for her. It had been a decade since she last attempted a journey this far. If it weren’t for her spellwork, which could mend her hurts and ease her fatigue, she didn’t know if it would be possible to do it so quickly. But if she used all her mana healing herself, then she wouldn’t have much left if she came across a dangerous situation on the way….

But while she’d never come forward about it, Norui had other reasons for why she wanted to split off for this leg of the journey. Reasons far more compelling to her than good sense, and ones she didn’t want to make known to the others. For their own safety, she told herself. So Norui forced down her doubts and made her best attempt at an unworried nod. “We’ll make it work.”

Pip overrode her faked confidence with his genuine own, declaring, “Nary a need, lass. I’ll jes’ come with ye.” Pip pointed one webbed finger to the leather bag at her waist. “That bag o’ yers what holds more on the inside; I can hitch a ride in there, yeah?”

Norui stared dumbly down at the bag at her side. Could the little Nuralli fit in that? “You could,” she admitted, “but….”

But there was no “but”, and Pip was already moving the conversation onward as though the plan were set. “Righ’! I’ll keep along then.”

“Hold on,” Honjo objected. “It’s still too dangerous–”

“Don’t ye worry, laddie, I’ll keep ‘er safe. Promise.” Pip firmly quashed the objection, but lightened up quickly to a smile. “Zilla and Sungie, and Honjo, we’ll see ye at the safehouse in Southpoint. Travel safe, dinnae get into any dumb fights.”

Honjo opened his mouth to argue, but Zilla swept over his words, setting aside her empty mug and rising from the fireside chair. “Yes, friends, and you as well! Drinks on me when we meet again, yes?” She flashed her usual easy grin and tugged at Honjo’s elbow. “Come now, we’ve packing to do without delay. The faster we move, the faster we catch up!”

Norui, for her part, was also trying to protest– but already Pip was up on his tip-toes, reaching for the flap of her bag. “Lass, mind comin’ a wee bit closer? Thank ye.” He smiled as she stooped, bringing the satchel within easy reach.

Pip fit through the opening snugly. The enchanted space within was large enough to swallow his lower body into its depths. He fussed around with the bag’s contents, arranging them so he could sit comfortably with his arms folded over the edge. “Well see, it’s a fit! Ye think ye can carry on with me here?” Him asking was a courtesy; there was no point in denying it. The bag’s magic ensured he didn’t even add any weight to her load, so long as he didn’t lean too heavily on its edge. Norui smothered her dissatisfaction with a stiff nod. “Are ye ready to be off then?”

The witch hadn’t been able to break off from the party the way she’d hoped… but if it was just Pip, it was better than nothing, and she couldn’t waste time fretting about it. “Yes,” Norui responded softly, fitting the goggles from atop her head over her eyes and drawing up the hood of her cloak. Lím slipped inside the hood and curled around her neck, readying for the long journey ahead.

A tug at the waist of her dress gave her pause. Sungie, ever quiet and skillful, had abandoned his napping pretense by the fire and crept up on her. He peered up at her with worried eyes. “Go sssoon, Norui and Pip?”

The woman smiled and rested a hand on the scout’s scaled head. “Norui and Pip go now,” she replied, “but see Sungie again soon. At Southpoint.” Sungie fidgeted his lizardly tail unhappily. “Sungie go with Zilla and Honjo, see again soon,” Norui insisted, and bent to give Sungie a small kiss atop his head. Hissing happily, Sungie waved her and Pip farewell and scampered after the rest of the party.

From the corner of her eye, Norui could see Honjo’s dark, displeased stare. She wondered if she ought to bid him goodbye as well. But frankly, she didn’t feel much like talking to him after his awful prank. A week apart would do them both some good, and if he was smart, he’d have a proper apology for her when they met again in Southpoint. Setting her lips, Norui only nodded at him and swept out the door.

The winter cold bit at her nose, and she pulled her scarf up to mask her face. The short lilac waves of her hair bounced as she trotted down the log steps from the house and picked her way through the snowy path. She directed her attention again to the skies above. There were high clouds and a faint snowfall, but nothing that promised worse weather to come.

“Ready, Pip?”

“Aye!” Her small companion beamed up at her.

A deep inhale from the witch, then a preliminary stretch of limbs– arms, legs, and one more set. Massive white-and-gray dappled wings swept out from beneath the cleverly stitched and ensorcelled folds of her cloak, reaching high and wide. Then, in a kickback of snow powder and an excited whoop from Pip, she swept upwards from the earth.

Three days to Southpoint. She could do this, and for the sake of the people in the Order depending on her, she had to.

***

When the rest of the party arrived in Southpoint a week later, they found Pip half-dead and hiding out in a stable– and Norui was gone.

Never split the party.