Emma and the Elixir of Madness Read online

  “He’s not even told you what he needs yet, child.” Nan smiled.

  Emma faced the alpha wolf and clasped her hands. “He would not ask of me something I could not do. They have always helped me.”

  “My son Half Tail has been injured. There are teeth in the earth that nip at his paws.” Greyfang turned his gold eyes up toward Nan. “We fear without help he will not walk right again.”

  “Oh, no.” Emma’s heart grew heavy. “Nan, I must go and help. Please, is it all right?”

  “Have you seen goblins about?” Nan held up the sword.

  Greyfang leaned closer and sniffed at it. “The scent is known to us. Creatures you call goblins are close, but to the north.”

  “All right.” Nan’s eyes narrowed in thought. “Emma, you are to stay with the wolves and heed Greyfang or his mate as you would your mother or I.”

  “Yes, Nan,” said Emma.

  “Please see her home straight away once your son is whole.”

  “Of course.” Greyfang bowed his head in reverence to Nan.

  The great wolf lowered himself to let Emma climb up. She hiked up her dress to sit astride his back, tucking her heels into thick fur and grabbing handfuls by his shoulders in an effort to hold on, expecting him to run fast.

  Kimber clung to Nan, staring worry at Emma.

  She held eye contact with her sister. “I promise I’ll listen. I’ll come right home.”

  With that, Greyfang started into the trees, trotting up to a run.

  3

  The Ground Has Teeth

  Forest blurred by on all sides from the speed at which Greyfang ran. Emma raised her head to take in the thrill of the ride whenever he kept to a straight line, but clung tight for turns and jumps. Half Tail’s injury sounded minor—at least to someone who could ask Uruleth for healing—so she didn’t feel guilty at enjoying the excitement of zooming among the trees. Out of respect for the wolves, she resisted the urge to cheer when he leapt over a small stream.

  The landing almost knocked her loose. He slowed to a trot to give her a chance to reseat herself, then resumed speed. They startled a group of deer, which ran off screaming, calling to each other, “Flee! Giant wolf!”

  Greyfang weaved between trees like a liquid. Branches and vines scratched down Emma’s back, but the Druid’s Step stopped them from catching on the fabric of her dress. She wondered if the magic helped the wolf as well, or if he could’ve gone faster. Perhaps he took care to keep her from getting hurt or perhaps the burden of her slight weight slowed him.

  Trusting the wolves to bring her home, she paid little attention to the route, instead reveling in the feeling of wind in her face. They leapt another, longer stream, after which Greyfang slowed to a trot, pausing as they emerged from the foliage of a high ridge. From there, Emma had a good view into the wolves’ den some three stories down.

  Moonsong’s sleek midnight-black form hovered near a pale grey wolf who lay on his side, panting. Others slept or reclined nearby, a few looking up at them. Greyfang took a few steps to the left and stepped over the ridge. He navigated a series of switchback paths crisscrossing down the face of the steep hill to the ground below. Emma’s arms and legs ached from clinging, and his slower pace let her relax.

  The wolves looking up at them made soft howls of greeting, which the Wildkin Whisper translated to a series of long, howling calls of “Helooooo.” A few yips reached her ears as “Thank you for coming” and “Welcome, Emma.” She grinned and waved as the wolves gathered around their matriarch.

  When Greyfang reached the bottom, Emma leaned forward, throwing her left leg up over the wolf’s flank, and jumped down to her feet. She ran to Moonsong, overcome by the strong worry radiating from the wolf’s pale yellow eyes.

  “Child, you are most generous for heeding our call,” said Moonsong. By voice, she sounded older than Mama, but far from as aged as Nan.

  “I will always.” Emma hugged the she-wolf. “Unless my parents say I can’t.”

  Moonsong emitted a guilty sigh. “Then they have my gratitude as well.”

  “What has happened?” asked Emma, hurrying over to where Half Tail lay.

  “The ground has bitten him,” said Moonsong.

  Greyfang stalked up behind her, head low, worry clear in his posture.

  Emma knelt by the injured wolf, her attention drawn right away to his left foreleg. The paw appeared smashed, as though someone had hit him with a battle hammer. The sight of it made her fingers hurt. That looks so painful. “Oh, no…”

  “Will he…” Moonsong choked up.

  Emma shook her head, smiling at the mother wolf. “He will be fine. It is painful, but his life is not in danger.” She lay the paw back on the soft duff coating the ground and held her hands over the wound. Eyes closed, she pictured the spirit Uruleth as he had appeared to her the first time, a massive ghostly bear-shaped light. “Great Uruleth, please grant me your favor that I may restore Ylithir’s child.”

  Large wolves crowded up behind her, at least fourteen of them, in a standing wall of fur and fangs that would’ve terrified most warriors, much less goblins. Emma felt as welcome among them as one of Moonsong’s pups.

  Magic swirled within her and she focused it down her arms to her hands, concentrating on her desire to channel life energy into Half Tail’s injury. At the sense of warmth upon her fingers, she opened her eyes to find a glowing cloud of light between her hands. With a mental nudge, she willed the energy over Half Tail’s paw. His wound lessened, but remained. Emma cast her spell a second time, pushing the magic from herself to her pack mate.

  Half Tail groaned and shifted, licking at the paw to clear dried blood from his fur.

  “Does it still hurt?” Emma stroked her hand over his head.

  “Mmm.” He licked a few more times and cautiously put weight on it. His hesitance gave way to confidence, and he stood. “It does not hurt.” He licked her face. “Thank you, cub of the Raven.”

  Emma didn’t bother pointing out she was the cub of the cub of the Raven, and smiled. “I’m happy I can help. It’s so little after all you have done for me. I’ll always be willing to help you.”

  Moonsong nuzzled her. “You have my eternal thanks, child.”

  “I must return her,” said Greyfang.

  “Wait.” Emma stood. “Where was Half Tail hurt? The… umm ‘ground teeth’ might bite another wolf. Will you show me where it bit him?”

  Greyfang and Moonsong exchanged worried looks.

  “I stepped, and the earth attacked me with metal teeth,” said Half Tail.

  Emma scowled. “Oh. It’s not a monster. It’s an idiot.”

  Greyfang and Moonsong both tilted their heads at her in the same way.

  “A trap.” Emma raised her hands and mashed her fingers together like teeth. “Sometimes people place traps to catch small animals. It’s awful, but it isn’t dangerous for me.”

  “The last time you got an idea,” said Greyfang, “things did not work out so well.”

  Emma bowed her head. “I’m sorry. This isn’t the same though. Those people were looking for me and wanted to hurt me. Someone is being careless, and I don’t want any more of you to be bitten.”

  “We should be cautious,” said Moonsong.

  “If you sense danger, I’ll go home right away. I promise. I won’t be foolish again.”

  “Very well.” Greyfang nodded to Half Tail.

  The smaller wolf licked Emma’s face again and trotted off. She followed him on foot, with Greyfang and Moonsong behind her. A pointy rock reminded her it had been some time since asking Linganthas for protection, so she recast the Druid’s Step. No sooner had the cool tingle of magic spread down her legs than Half Tail ducked into a bramble. An upwelling of gratitude toward the spirit of vines filled her as three-inch thorns raked over her bare legs with little discomfort, like a morning back scratch from Mama.

  She climbed past the old, woody gnarls, keeping to the path the wolf followed. On the far end, he bounded to the top of a ridge, the other side of the ravine in which they’d made their den. Emma grabbed tufts of grass and roots, planting her feet with care as she hauled herself up a near-vertical dirt wall. When she neared the top, he nipped the shoulder of her dress and helped pull her up and over. As soon as she got her footing once more, he trotted off.

  A few minutes later, he slowed to a cautious creep, sniffing at the ground. “It is near this place. Be wary of where you tread.”

  Emma stared at the ground, watching where she set her feet. Will the spell protect me from a trap? Though curious, she didn’t want to test it. Linganthas kept natural hazards like sharp rocks, thorns, and burrs at bay, but a human-made trap might not yield to the influence of a nature spirit.

  “Here,” said Half Tail.

  She looked up.

  The pale wolf sniffed at a spot on the ground where a steel trap had been unearthed. Thin, leafy branches lay around the hole, the trapper’s camouflage. She approached and squatted nearby, cringing at the bloody metal teeth with tufts of fur stuck between them. The trap didn’t look large enough to be meant for wolves, especially wolves as big as Greyfang’s pack, but it would have left Half Tail crippled for life if not for Uruleth’s gift. Her face scrunched in anger, Emma leaned forward and crawled after a length of chain that tethered the trap to a stake. She grabbed it in both hands, pushing and pulling, but it barely moved.

  “Uruleth, please grant me your strength.” Emma focused her magic inward, clinging to the desire for the bear spirit to lend her some of his power. Green light swam around her, accompanied by a soft ursine growl.

  She planted her feet on either side of the stake, grasped the chain, and pulled as hard as she could. After a minute of grunting and straining, the tether lost its purchase on the
ground and came free, spilling her onto her backside, legs in the air.

  “Come, Emma. You have taken the teeth from the ground.” Greyfang waved his head toward the right, a direction she assumed to be her home.

  She righted herself and stood. “There’s never only one.”

  The forest here didn’t have anything close to a trail, nothing she could use to guess where the trapper had placed more of the metal horrors. Frustration made her snarl. I could spend all day out here going in circles and I might not even find one more. Circles! She smiled while thinking about planting the talismans around the Spider Queen’s nest. I wonder if it would work?

  “Emma?” asked Moonsong. “Come. You should go home now.”

  “Can I try something first? I don’t want any more of your children hurt.”

  Greyfang emitted an annoyed grumble, but nodded. “Be quick.”

  Emma held her arms out to her sides, closed her eyes, and tried to open herself to the life within the forest. “Linganthas, I ask for your aid once more. Please let me feel the metal that does not belong here.”

  A moment later, feeling no different, she opened her eyes and looked around. Did that work?

  “Emma?” asked Moonsong.

  She walked to the right, at a cautious pace, still watching the ground. “I’m not sure if—” A weak pull tugged at her, guiding her attention into the bushes. “Oh! Linganthas heard me!”

  A sense of irritation, as bothersome as a tiny pebble inside a shoe, gnawed at her, growing stronger with each step she took. It’s how the forest feels the trap. Confident she wouldn’t step in metal jaws, as she possessed a good idea where it lay, she hurried toward it.

  “Be careful,” said Moonsong, hovering close by, poised to snatch Emma backward from danger at a seconds’ notice.

  “I see it.” Emma pointed at a suspicious pile of leaves.

  She approached with care and knelt, brushing away the trapper’s attempt to hide his device. Half Tail whined at the sight of its jaws wide open, poised to draw blood. Emma hunted up a potato-sized rock, which she threw into the trap to set it off. All the wolves flinched at the loud clank of the jaws slamming.

  After tearing the stake from the ground, she dragged the two traps behind her, following the supernatural feeling guiding her to the next. She disarmed three more traps before desperate snarling and growling up ahead worried her up to a run.

  A bloodied badger flung itself about in a frenzy of claws and teeth, gnawing at the metal and howling in pain.

  “Hey!” yelled Emma, at the animal.

  It froze, staring wild-eyed at her. “Get away!” The badger bared its fangs. “Gonna bite human!”

  “Stop.” Emma set her fists on her hips in an unconscious imitation of Nan. The traps she’d collected rattled at her side, bumping her leg. “I’m going to help you, but if you bite me, I’ll walk away.”

  The badger blinked. “You… wait. You talk?”

  “Yes.” Emma took a few steps closer. “I’m not going to hurt you. I want to let you out of that trap.”

  “Why should I believe you?”

  She tilted her head. “How many humans talk to you?”

  “Okay.” The badger sat. “You make sense.”

  Emma set down the loose traps and approached, kneeling beside the shivering badger. She used a stick to pry the jaws open enough for him to pull his paw free. The badger started to limp away, but stopped when she yelled, “Wait.”

  “You said free. Trick?”

  “Of course not, silly. You are hurt. Let me help.”

  The badger limped closer, leaning away from her as if approaching a fire. “What help do you?”

  Emma waved him closer. “I can’t let you run off bleeding and in pain.” She held her hands over the wound and beseeched Uruleth’s aid once more.

  The badger relaxed as the soft green light flowed into his paw, mending it.

  “Does it still hurt?” asked Emma.

  “No.” The badger licked blood from his fur.

  “Be careful.” Emma stood and pulled the stake out of the ground.

  “Grateful, I.” The badger scurried off into the woods.

  Greyfang and Moonsong shadowed her close as she followed the pull of the spell. Over about fifteen minutes, she recovered six more traps, all of which had been mercifully empty. At the instant the sixth stake burst free from the ground, an inexplicable sense that she’d gotten the last of them came over her. The forest shared its sense of relief with her, like she’d pulled a bothersome thorn from her foot.

  “That’s all of them.” She smiled at the wolves, about to ask them to take her home, but hesitated after spotting a small brown cabin out of the corner of her eye. The path of traps had led in a line straight toward the place. That had to be where the trapper lived.

  Emma hurried the last few yards to the start of a dirt trail that led up an ivy-covered hill to the cabin. She considered stomping up there and telling him off for being so cruel. No. Mama should do that… I’m just a little girl.

  “No, child,” said Greyfang, nipping at the back of her dress.

  “I know.” Emma dropped the pile of traps at the base of the trail. “I’m not going any closer.”

  He’s only going to put them back and hurt more animals.

  Emma scowled at the traps. Neither leaving them there, stealing them, or going to confront the trapper sounded like good ideas. Greyfang tugged at her dress, trying to nudge her away from the cabin. The man might not take too kindly to her ruining his traps. At best, he’d scream at her. At worst, perhaps bend her over his knee and give her a few stiff smacks. It didn’t seem likely he’d be like the thieves and want to keep her locked up. She bowed her head and took a step back when inspiration hit her. At the thought of being kidnapped, she remembered Nan tearing the doors off the cellar the thieves had put her in.

  “Linganthas, I call upon your wrath.” Emma pictured a fat root growing up from the ground and crushing the traps into useless bits of metal.

  A wooden tendril as thick as her leg raced upward from the earth, coiling around the mass of traps and constricting like a boa. Springs popped, metal creaked, and within seconds, she gazed upon a knotted lump of wood and steel.

  “Okay.” She smiled, proud of herself. “Time to go ho—”

  “Hey,” bellowed a man behind her and left.

  Emma spun with a startled gasp. Uh oh.

  A man about Da’s age, in a heavy green hooded cloak rushed out of the trees. A longsword on his belt clattered against his thigh. His thick leather pants creaked with his stride and his boots sported thick, dark grey fur around his shins. Emma took a step back at his rapid approach. The man’s expression, though angry, struck her more like someone who’d caught a child misbehaving than a man who wanted to hurt her, though his shaggy black hair made him scarier.

  “By Belloch’s beard, what are you doing, girl?” He glared at the broken traps. “Where’s your father? Ach, what’ve you done?”

  Greyfang and Moonsong moved up to stand on either side of her, making the man stop short a good six paces away. All traces of aggression left his face and posture.

  “Great Yalem’s ghost they’re huge,” whispered the man.

  “This is the human who puts teeth in the ground?” asked Moonsong. “The human who injured my cub?”

  “Yes,” whispered Emma.

  A soft crackling noise came from the crushing root as the magic animating it faded. The wood hardened to a permanent growth.

  “Easy, child.” The trapper eyed the wolves, his hand creeping for his blade. “Don’t move fast and they won’t bite you.”

  “They’re my friends. They won’t hurt me.” Despite being angry and horrified at someone who could place traps like this, she kept her tone polite. “One of your traps hurt a friend of mine.” She reached up to her left and stroked Moonsong’s chin. “Her cub.”

  “So, you tear up all my traps and…” He glanced at crushed mess. “Do… whatever that is? You’ll have me starve then? Your father’ll have to pay for that lot.”

  Emma tried to ignore the needling worry she’d done something wrong, and kept the quiver of fear from her voice. “Your traps are cruel and careless. If you are going to hunt, hunt. Respect the forest and offer your prey a clean, quick death. Those are evil. The animals struggle for hours, in pain and terrified.”