Emma and the Elixir of Madness Page 3

  “Bad!” yelled Kimber.

  Nan tugged him back. “Listen to your sister.”

  Emma peeled her attention away from the spot she’d been watching. Her brother pointed at a spread of bright red vines studded with long, black thorns that coiled up the trunk of a dead tree. “They look like they hurt.”

  “Indeed.” Nan used her walking stick to bother at one of the thorns, showing it to be floppy and soft. “Firesnap Vine. What you think are thorns are really its flowers. The vine won’t hurt you unless it breaks. The sap inside causes itching and burning. Quite uncomfortable.”

  Emma felt no desire to lean closer to study it. “What potion is this used for?”

  “None.” Nan shook her head. “It’s little more than a nuisance. Adding this to a potion would be… evil.”

  Tam looked up at her. “How can a plant be evil?”

  “If you get the sap on you, your skin would turn red. Blisters puff up, and it itches so much you’d want to cut your arm off to make it stop.” Nan leaned over him with an eyebrow wiggle. “Now, think of that happening to your insides.”

  Emma gulped, shivering.

  Tam paled. “That is evil.”

  “What’s the cure?” asked Emma.

  Nan tugged the boy along, and kept walking past the firesnap. “No magic needed for getting it on you, Em. A tincture of liferoot and emerald moss will soothe the itching.”

  A scattering of baby deer raced out from the right, followed soon after by their mother. Kimber let off a yell of surprise and grabbed on tight while Emma waved, though she didn’t have time to invoke the Wildkin Whisper before they vanished.

  “Ahh, there.” Nan pointed ahead and ambled faster.

  She approached a wide-bodied tree, bent and twisty, bigger around than their privy shack. It stood as tall as any of the other trees in the area, but the massive trunk gave it a stubby appearance. Swaths of yellow lichen blotched the coarse bark, and a starburst of roots swelled up out of the dirt around the base, visible for a good ten paces in all directions. A powerful scent of wet wood hung in the air. The twistiness of it reminded Emma of the forest in the Faerie Realm.

  Tam darted ahead and ran a ring around the tree, searching for a handhold to climb. In seconds, he’d gone a quarter of the way up.

  “This is a burlwood tree,” said Nan. “From it, we find burlbark, which we use in potions after grinding it into powder.” She handed the girls each a cloth sack. “It is completely harmless, but you should take care not to injure the tree. Collect only bark that has begun to peel away. If you have to pull with any measure of strength, don’t take that piece.”

  Emma stooped to pick up a slab that had fallen away. “Can we use the bark that’s already fallen?”

  “If you see no signs of mold.” Nan nodded.

  The piece she’d found didn’t appear to have anything growing on it, so Emma added it to her bag and stepped over the thick roots at the tree’s bottom, some of which looked bigger around than Da’s thigh. She spotted a curl of bark already separating from the wood, and tucked her finger under it. A light tug pulled away a strip about eight inches long that smelled of tree sap and clove. She dropped it in the bag.

  “Burlbark we use rather often,” said Nan. “Legends tell that these were once oak trees that Uruleth used to scratch his back.”

  Emma grinned, imagining the huge bear spirit rubbing against a tree to reach an itch.

  “The bark is a powerful reagent for potions that increase strength or toughness.”

  “The potions Mama always makes for Da,” said Emma, remembering pouring a handful of dark brown dust into the crucible.

  “Correct.” Nan smiled.

  Splat.

  Kimber let off a high-pitched scream.

  “Tam!” yelled Nan. “That was not nice.”

  Emma ran around the trunk to where Kimber stood, rigid as a statue. Bright yellow slime covered the top of her head and dribbled down her hair. Tam, a good three stories up in the branches, had the same slime all over his hands.

  “I-its s-sae c-cold.” Kimber shifted to face Emma, barely moving her arms.

  “What is it?” asked Emma.

  An arm-thick vine burst from the ground and shot upward to wrap Tam around the middle. It lifted him off the branches and brought him back to the ground before receding back under the soil. Nan towered over him, fists on her hips. His impish grin faded to a blank look for a second before becoming an apologetic frown.

  “Sorry, Kimber.”

  “Ambermoss,” said Nan. “It’s most useful quality is possessing the consistency of ice cold snot.”

  Emma scooped it out of Kimber’s hair, nauseated by the feel of it between her fingers. “How is that useful?”

  “To six-year-old boys with older sisters, quite useful.” Nan glared at him, though couldn’t hide her amusement.

  He stood still and quiet as long as it took Emma to clear the bulk of the icky substance from Kimber’s hair. Fortunately, it had no smell, and the gelatinous ooze stayed together, leaving her hair damp but slime-free.

  Nan resumed walking, curving leftward. Emma pictured them following a circular path that kept them somewhat close to home. After quite a few minutes, Nan stopped and indicated a patch of ground with her walking stick.

  Emma crouched by it, pushing the green undergrowth aside to reveal a group of pale, brown tubers pressing up from the soil. They resembled yams that had been bent into arches, with each end burrowing into the dirt, the middle suspended. It took her only seconds to recognize dreamroot from Marsten’s shop. The awful herbal taste and dizziness came to mind, and she scowled. “I hate dreamroot.”

  “In its natural form, dreamroot can often be mistaken for common tubers with a sweet scent and buttery-almond flavor. Some farmers even eat them like potatoes. When baked, it loses much of its potency, though it still causes drowsiness.”

  Kimber stuck her tongue out. “I donnae like ’et.”

  “It didn’t taste anything like butter,” said Emma, arms folded.

  Nan sidled up behind her and gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze. “It tasted foul due to the way they prepared it, to be inhaled rather than eaten or drunk.”

  Tam whacked one of the dreamroot tubers with his sword, but it didn’t seem to care. “That’s for bein’ mean to Em’ and Kimber.”

  Emma frowned. “Bad people use this to kidnap.”

  “Indeed.” Nan patted Emma’s head while nodding. “It has other uses as well. People who have trouble sleeping brew it into tea. Also, it can help those who are always frightened to relax. In potions, we use it for a protective elixir that wards off fear.”

  “I still don’t like it.” Emma pressed herself against Nan, trying to stop thinking about that man grabbing her from behind and mushing the wet cloth over her face.

  “There, there, Em.” Nan raised an arm to let Kimber into the group hug. “Those fools won’t bother you again.”

  Emma pulled her face out of Nan’s cloak and looked up at her. “Is there a way to fight it? A spell?”

  “You’d not be asking much of the spirits with a hand over your mouth, but there is something to be done should you find yourself attacked again.”

  Emma stared into Nan’s eyes with baited breath, a faint tremble in her limbs.

  “Wha’s it?” asked Kimber.

  “It’s easy, but it’s also hard.” Nan squeezed them tight. “The easy part is doing it. The hard part is staying calm enough to be able to do it. If someone tries to get you with dreamroot again, hold your breath. Let air out of your nose slow so the fumes don’t go in. Pretend to be sleeping, and when they let go, wait for a chance to run away.”

  Emma tried to imagine that, but didn’t feel confident she’d be able to stay calm if someone grabbed her like that again. Though, with her silk trading days behind her, she couldn’t think of any reason someone would bother trying to kidnap her again. Kimber seemed to be practicing letting slow breaths out her nose.

  She
followed as Nan resumed walking south, approaching a familiar section of forest. Kimber’s attention shifted from practicing against dreamroot to searching for signs of Silverbell Faeries. Tam twisted at another snap in the woods, brandishing his practice sword in that direction.

  “We’re close to the faerie circle,” said Emma.

  “Aye. ’Tis right over there.” Nan raised an arm, pointing off to the right.

  Wide-eyed, Kimber looked up. “Are we gonnae visit t’ faeries?”

  “Oh, not today, dear.” Nan rubbed her back. “Don’t need to bother them. This here”—she gestured up ahead—“is what we’re looking for.”

  A short distance away, patches of deep green light glowed from the rocky face of a tall ridge on either side of a thin stream. The tiny waterfall spilled over the top and ran at least twenty feet down before collecting in a well-like pool at the bottom, the source of the shallow creek they’d crossed earlier. Kimber’s disappointment at not going to the Faerie Realm lessened a bit as she ‘oohed’ over the scene before them.

  Her little sister crept to the basin, squatting with her toes curled over the stone at the edge, then tested the water with her hand. “Is cold.”

  Emma’s mouth hung open at the beauty of the glowing moss. Rippling bands of dark and brighter shades of rich emerald spread over the surface. It appeared wet, as if some mad artist had spread glowing paint over the boulders and rock faces only a minute before. She crept up beside Kimber, peering down into the cup-shaped pool. While only about seven feet across, it looked deep enough for three men to stand on each other’s shoulders and still not quite reach the top.

  “You can wash your hair,” said Tam. “Stick your head in.”

  “Nae.” Kimber backed up. “I donnae wan’ tae.”

  Emma put an arm around her. Tam didn’t know that Old Man Drinn used to hold her face down in water to punish her for not making enough copper coins selling apples. “We can take a bath when we get home. In warm water.”

  “Aye.” Kimber nodded.

  Tam approached a boulder that came up to his chest, covered in the light-bearing plant. The way the darker and brighter shades moved across its surface appeared to have mesmerized him. “It’s pretty.”

  “Emerald moss,” said Nan. “It only grows in places where faeries are known to frequent.”

  Kimber grinned, clapping.

  “Often, near water.”

  “Is that why it looks wet?” asked Emma.

  Nan tapped a finger to her chin in thought. “Well it does hold a lot of moisture.” She took a glass bottle from her satchel and handed it to Emma along with the small knife. “Go on and fill that.”

  “It’s so beautiful. I don’t want to ruin it,” muttered Emma.

  “It’ll grow back as long as you don’t take all of it.” Nan winked. “The trick is to feed it a little magical energy. When you cut it, you’ll feel a mild tug. Let it have some of your magic. If you don’t, what you collect will die too fast for us to use.”

  Emma touched it with one finger, finding it cold and slimy, like the goop Tam had dropped on Kimber earlier. Upon inserting the knife, a tingle ran up her finger that reminded her of casting the Wildkin Whisper. Allowing the moss to draw at her magical essence, she worked the blade downward while holding the bottle underneath. She didn’t have to slice as much as scrape it from the rock into the bottle.

  “We use emerald moss for potions that enhance the senses,” said Nan. “Depending on what it is combined with, it can make vision sharper, offer protection against magical attack, and even allow someone to see in the dark.”

  Kimber frowned. “Thieves use ’at potion ’lot. What seein’ in ’a dark. Donnae need light. He made me ’ave some once.”

  “Sorry.” Emma glanced back from her work with a look of sympathy. “Forget that man.”

  Nan patted Kimber’s head.

  “Why ’e give you a see-inna-dark spell?” asked Tam. “You’re not a thief.”

  Kimber looked down, face reddening. “’E stuff’ me inna window of a rich man’s ’ome tae small fer ’im tae fit. I ’ad tae sneak open ’a front door so’as ’ey could get in.”

  Emma gasped.

  “I dinnae wan’ tae do ’et, but I ’ad tae.” Kimber kneaded her hands and ground her toes into the dirt. “’E gonnae punish me bad if’n ae say no ’er got caught.”

  Nan picked Kimber up and rocked her, patting her back for a while. “That’s not your fault, dear. Listen to Em. Don’t waste any more time thinking about that lot.”

  “Aye, Nan.” Kimber sniffled.

  Tam came tumbling down the ridge in a fall of dirt, scaring a worried scream out of Emma. He rolled over twice on the ground, laughing. She hurried over and grabbed a fistful of his tunic, pulling him upright.

  “Tam! Don’t scare me like that. You could’ve been hurt. What are you doing climbing a cliff?”

  He held up a skinny root covered in golden hairs that sparkled like precious metal. “Saw gold.”

  Nan set Kimber on her feet and ambled over, snatching the root from him. “This is not for boys your age, Tam.” She chuckled.

  “It’s not Faeberry,” said Emma. “What is it?”

  “Kirling root.” Nan tucked it away in a pouch. “It is similar to Faeberry, but not as strong. Faeberry makes people see things that aren’t there. Kirling grind this root up and pack their smoking pipes with it. Some humans use it as well. It relaxes the mind, causes strange and whimsical thoughts, and makes people lazy… also rather prone to snacking. Nothing you children should be concerned with.”

  “What’s Kirling?” asked Emma.

  Nan smiled. “Kirling are another race, Em. Like humans or elves. They’re somewhere between the two as far as looks go, but a grown man’s only up to about your height. Big eyes, pointy ears, and… most humans would think them ‘cute.’”

  “’Er wee ones got’a be adorable,” said Kimber, grinning. “Wee Kirling babe ’ae size o’ a turnip!”

  Nan winked and pinched Kimber’s cheek. “Not as precious as you.”

  Tam turned away and stuck out his tongue in a gagging gesture.

  “Or our adorable little knight. Isn’t he cute?” Nan tickled his belly with one finger.

  He jumped back, trying to look angry, but couldn’t stop smiling.

  “I’as saws ae Kirlin’ once,” said Kimber. “’E p’tended tae be ae li’l boy so’s ’a guards let ’im go.”

  Nan scratched at her chin hairs. “If you ever meet one, don’t go assuming they’re thieves. They’re sensitive about that. Kirling mostly stick to themselves. They don’t venture out into the world too often, but alas, a few rather successful thieves have given them a reputation. Not all Kirling are prone to legerdemain, but everyone thinks they are.”

  Tam’s eyebrows knit together, as did Emma’s.

  “Le gerd a what?” asked Emma.

  “Means stealin’,” whispered Kimber.

  Emma scraped enough emerald moss into the bottle to fill it, and lost a moment gazing into the rolling shimmer of green within. “It’s so bright, I could use it like a candle at night.”

  Nan took the bottle. “It’s pretty, but a candle would let you see farther.”

  “Nan!” yelled Kimber. “Look’a this.”

  Emma turned toward her sister’s voice. The redhead squatted a short distance away, where the deep basin pool became the head of the creek. She’d brushed a layer of greenery aside to expose the ground beneath, allowing sunlight to gleam from a straight length of metal. Kimber pawed at the dirt and pulled out a crude iron shortsword. She stood, turning to face everyone, and held it up so Nan could get a closer look.

  “Hmm.” Nan plucked the blade from her grip and examined it.

  Kimber swatted dirt off her hands.

  “This looks goblin made. Bit of rust on it…”

  Emma’s eyes widened. Tam snarled, raising his wooden sword.

  “It’s likely been there for a while.” Nan studied the ground. “I
don’t see any footprints but ours.”

  “There can’t be goblins here. We’re too close to town. Kimber always used to walk around here, an’ the goblins never got ’er.” Emma bit her lip, regretting saying something that would remind her of that cruel man.

  Kimber shook her head. “Goblins nae mind wif me.” She reached up and fluffed her long, curly red hair out.

  Nan chuckled. “Perhaps.”

  “What?” asked Emma. “Goblins always try an’ grab kids.”

  “And put ’em inna stew,” said Tam.

  “Remember the Firesnap Vine? They’re bright red as a sign they’re dangerous.” Nan winked. “Some believe that goblins leave redheads alone, taking the color as a warning. Some humans avoid eating spicy peppers because of their color.”

  Kimber stood proud. “I’as tae ’ot fer ae goblin tae eat.”

  “Rawr,” said Tam, biting Kimber on the shoulder with a playful glint in his eye.

  She smirked at him.

  He stood away from her, making faces as if appraising the flavor of wine. “Not spicy.”

  Kimber shoved him, grinning.

  A heavy snap came from the trees to Emma’s left. She spun toward it while Kimber sucked in a gasp of air. Tam pointed his training sword in that direction, though the tip wobbled from his arms shaking. Nan raised a casual eyebrow.

  Greyfang glided into view from behind a cluster of trees and padded over to stand by Emma. She looked up into his eyes, smiled, and wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face in the lush fur of his cheek.

  Tam exhaled with relief. Kimber put a hand over her heart, leaning on Nan to keep from passing out.

  “You sounded like a goblin,” said Tam.

  “Strixian, please grant me the Wildkin Whisper,” muttered Emma. Little points of light appeared in front of her, circling around her before seeping into her body. She focused on the huge wolf. “Mafindwel, Greyfang.”

  “Greetings, Emma.” He sniffed at her. The cold of his nose at her neck made her scrunch up her shoulders. “And to you, Raven.”

  Nan offered a nod of welcome.

  “Forgive my intrusion, but I would ask of Emma a small favor.”

  “Yes, of course.” She glanced back at Nan. “Umm… can I?”