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The Maeblec's Apprentice SAMPLE
Chapter 1
The maeblec lived in the woods; not so deep that she couldn’t be found, but deep enough to discourage all but the most earnest of visitors.
I was most earnest.
Branches and brambles tore at my dress as I ran, stumbling over roots and stones in my haste. I’d stopped looking behind me, but I wasn’t safe yet. At least not enough to slow my pace.
I’d never been to see the maeblec before, but I’d heard enough people speak of her and her cottage in the forest to hope I was going the right way. I tried not to think of what would become of me if I didn’t find it, but simply hastened along, marking the passage of time by my gasping breaths and the growing stitch in my side.
To be honest, I didn’t have much of a plan. Most desperate people don’t. I knew only the ache in my chest that I couldn’t name, the ache that pulled me deeper and deeper into the forest, and for some reason I couldn’t identify, I was certain that the maeblec was my last hope. Even knowing that, I still shivered at the thought of what I was about to do.
“Maeblec” is an old word in our language, brought centuries ago by immigrants who came from over the mountains and settled in our valleys and woods. The word roughly translates to “a woman who knows things.”
That’s where the word comes from.
What it means is “witch.”
Suddenly the trees parted, and there it was: a rather large cottage, actually, with what looked like a stable attached. Smoke drifted from the chimney, catching the light of the late afternoon sun filtering through the leaves.
The maeblec sat in a chair near her door, feet propped up on a stump. It was her wanton display of idleness in the middle of the day that shocked me most—even more than the fact that she was smoking a pipe while doing it. I stopped abruptly in the clearing, trying to catch my breath and my bearings.
The maeblec didn’t move, but stared at me, puckered lips sucking on her pipe. Eventually she blew the smoke out of her mouth, and a cloud of blue haze drifted upward. “Has there been an accident?”
Of course. I likely looked a mess, all tattered and out of breath. She thought I’d been sent to fetch her to town. I shook my head, unable yet to find my voice.
The maeblec cocked her head. “I don’t do love spells, if that’s what you’re after.”
I shook my head again, still not able to speak.
“A baby you want rid of, then?”
This time I took a breath. “No.”
The maeblec’s eyes roved up and down my form in a way that made me want to shrink, but I stood firm.
“You don’t have a limp. And I don’t see any warts. Unless they’re in an embarrassing place?”
I felt my face flush, but cleared my throat, making my voice firm. “No. No warts.”
The maeblec chewed on the stem of her pipe and narrowed her eyes at me. “Then why are you here?”
I took two steps forward. “I want to be your apprentice.”
This, I could tell, surprised her. She sent a few more puffs of smoke upward, then lowered the pipe into her lap.
“I don’t need an apprentice.”
“Maybe not now,” I said, grasping for words that would convince her. “But you will one day.”
“And what makes you think that?”
“You’re getting old,” I said and cringed inwardly as I saw one of her eyebrows rise. “Older,” I corrected. “And eventually you’ll want someone to help out. Someone who can cook and clean and … keep you company.” This last part sounded weak, and I knew it. The maeblec had always lived alone.
“And that’s you?”
“Yes.” I tried to sound more confident than I felt.
The maeblec nodded thoughtfully for a moment, then asked, “What are you running from?”
I swallowed, deciding on the spot to tell the truth. “Marriage.”
“Marriage?” Both eyebrows rose this time. “I take it you did not choose your intended?”
I shook my head.
“Is he ugly?”
“No.”
“Cruel?”
“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “I haven’t heard as much. But you never know.”
The maeblec considered me. “Then what is it about marriage that has you running to me? Marriage is what all young women do, is it not?”
A chill ran down my spine at these words and I knew I’d have to tread carefully. As desperate and unplanned as my flight through the woods had been, I did know one thing with certainty: If the maeblec knew who my intended fiancé was, she would have me running out of her clearing and straight back to my father’s house before I could say another word. Best to let her think it was the life that most young wives entered that I was eager to escape. At least until I figured things out. I raised my chin. “It’s just that I don’t fancy the thought of doing nothing more for the rest of my life but cook and clean and serve. I want more out of life than that.”
“More than cooking and cleaning?”
“Yes.”
“And so you come here?”
“Yes.”
“And offer to cook and clean?”
I swallowed, heart sinking, and said nothing.
The maeblec let the pause sit between us, then lowered her feet from the stump and leaned forward in her chair. “Tell me,” she asked. “What’s so different about cooking and cleaning here for me than in town for a husband?”
I prayed for a quick mind and a steady voice. “Well, if I’m your apprentice, you’ll teach me things, so that’s something. And even if it is just cooking and cleaning, then at least I won’t be expected to share anyone’s bed at the end of it. I assume,” I added, then bit my tongue, wondering how the maeblec would react to my impertinence.
There was a pause, then the maeblec’s eyes crinkled, and she laughed, sending a murder of crows flapping from their perches in the trees, their harsh cries mingling with the maeblec’s cackle. She leaned back in her chair once more.
“You’re a funny one, I’ll give you that. But I don’t think you really want to live like me.”
“I disagree,” I countered. “Besides, I think you want me here.”
“Why, because I’m in such a need of a cook and a maid here in my mansion?” She gestured at the surrounding clearing, her voice dry.
“No,” I said. “Because no one wants to die alone. Not even a maeblec.”
The air grew still, all trace of humor sucked away. I held my breath, knowing I’d likely offended the maeblec with the word. But I’d said it on purpose. I wanted her to know that I was well aware of what I was asking.
“Is that so?” the maeblec asked quietly, but it didn’t seem like she wanted me to answer, so I stayed quiet and waited.
She watched me for a long while this time. Eventually she spoke again, her voice soft but intent. “And what of your end?”
“My end?” I faltered, unsure of what she meant.
The maeblec’s gaze grew sharp, her dark eyes piercing mine. “Yes, yours. Have you thought of it? Because this thing you ask of me … it may end in death, you know.”
“Wh-why?” I asked, wishing that my voice didn’t tremble.
The maeblec leaned forward once more. “Because you will be feared. All women who know things are.”
The words hung between us like an omen, and I knew the maeblec expected them to drive me away. But I was remembering my father’s face when I told him I didn’t want to marry. The impatient scowl, the dismissive wave of his hand. The way he made it clear that nothing I thought or wanted would ever matter to him.
And now four words hung in the air before the maeblec’s cottage. You will be feared.
“Good,” I breathed, my voice barely above a whisper.
The shadow of a smile played over the maeblec’s face. She grunted and sat back once more, her booted feet finding the stump again. “Go inside,” she said. “There’s a spare room with a bed, but it’s small. Give the place a look around and see if you really want to stay.”
I nodded, relief flooding my body. I crossed the clearing and stepped inside the cottage while the maeblec replaced the pipe in her mouth and resumed her smoky puffing.
As quickly as I’d entered the cottage, I was once again outside it.
“An enormous raven’s gotten into your house,” I told the maeblec. “Would you like me to get it out for you?”
The maeblec chuckled with mirth. “I’d like to see you try!”
“Why? I’m not afraid of it,” I said, bristling at her derisive tone.
“I hope not,” the maeblec said, still obviously enjoying herself. “Because if you stay, you’ll be living together.”
I frowned. “It’s your pet?”
“He is not my pet,” the maeblec said more seriously. “And his name is Jax.”
“Oh,” I said, disliking the creeping sensation of embarrassment climbing the back of my neck. I wanted to ask what the raven was, if not a pet, but as I was already feeling foolish, I asked a different question instead. “What’s your name?”
The maeblec studied me as if considering whether to tell me, and if she did tell me, whether it would be the truth. “You can call me Rune,” she said.
I nodded. “I’m Elowynn. Elowynn DeMere. And if you’ll let me, I’ll stay.”
Rune puffed at her pipe a few times, the smoke drifting upward as she regarded me. “Very well,” she said at last. “We’ll see if there’s anything of the maeblec in you after all.”
“How will we know?” I asked.
“What’s that?”
“How will we know if I’m a maeblec?”
“I’ll know,” Rune said, and there was a finality in her tone that did not invite further discussion.
I decided not to press my luck, so I turned away and reentered the maeblec’s cottage.