Magdalena continued to sip at her soup.
Ava’s voice rose up out of her. “What in the world was that?”
Magdalena gave a soft smile. “It’s some of the local boys. They think they’re brave by throwing rocks at a defenseless keep.”
Suddenly Ava knew exactly which boy was leading this attack.
She ran to the window, avoiding the larger shards of glass on the floor. She peered out –
Dominik was there, two of his friends huddled behind him. Dominik’s face shone red as he told them, “See, nothing happened! And I bet if I tried that I could smash –”
Ava’s shriek rose high. “You’ll pay for that!”
The three boys turned as white as a field of daisies, and then they were racing as if the Giant of Tyrol himself were after them.
Ava ran for the back door. “I’ll get them!”
She flung it open.
A whirlwind of dust and cackles blinded her, and she dropped to her knees, her arms tightly wrapped around her head.
Had the witch set a tornado to attack her?
At last the maelstrom settled down and she dared to open her eyes.
A mangy herd of chickens, in colors from deepest black to palest red, settled back down around her. They returned to pecking contently at the dirt, ferreting out small bugs or wriggling worms.
The boys were nowhere to be seen.
Ava’s shoulders slumped, and she stepped back to the keep, closing the door behind her.
Magdalena patted the stool. “Come, Ava, have a seat. The boys don’t know any better. They are young yet.”
“They should know better,” growled Ava. “And they smashed your window.” She pointed at the hole. “If you let them smash them all, that’ll let in the rain and the snow. We need to stop them.”
Magdalena gave a soft sigh. “I’m afraid I’m just not as spry as I once was. They’ve got fresh legs and strong hearts.”
“I’ll help keep you safe,” announced Ava rashly, before she gave it any thought. “You’re living all alone up here. You deserve to have someone to help you.”
Magdalena shook her head. “I can’t let you do that, dear girl. Surely you have many other things to do with your time. You have friends you’d rather be playing at dolls with.”
Ava’s face flared red. “That’s all the other girls want to do,” she muttered. “And I am just not interested! I’d rather be up here, exploring the keep. Seeing what lies behind every door.” Her heart beat faster. “If I helped you scare off the boys, would you let me explore your home?”
Magdalena chuckled. “Of course I would, my sweet. But it’s just a keep. Nothing more than an old, fading tower.”
Ava’s gaze sparkled with anticipation. Surely it was a treasure chest of adventure. And who knew what lay behind every new turn?
Magdalena finished her bowl and then took up Ava’s empty bowl. “Well, then, you’d better run along home, Ava. You’ve got a long walk back down to the valley. But if you ever need anything, or wish to visit again, you are welcome. It was lovely to meet you.”
“Thank you so much, Magdalena. It was nice to meet you, too.” Somehow it seemed proper for Ava to drop a curtsey. Then she turned and skipped her way to the front door. It took both hands to pull it open. When she stepped through and closed it behind her it made a satisfying thunk.
She looked up at that iron knocker and pride swelled in her heart.
She had done it!
She had faced the keep, and she had come out alive!
She turned and looked down the long path to the bridge, and the narrow twisting trail leading back down into the valley.
One thought rang in her mind.
Tomorrow she would return.
And then the true adventure would begin.
Chapter Five
Crash.
Ava jolted awake in bed, looking frantically around in the darkness.
The attic looked as it always had. Across the way her three brothers laid side by side, snoring to shake the rafters. Rain pummeled the roof, resonating throughout the wooden-and-stone structure.
Bright light flared outside, bringing daytime to the world.
Immediately came the crash of thunder, shaking the foundations.
Her brothers slept on.
Her mother’s voice came up from below, tremulous and tense. “Oh, my darling, whatever are we going to do?”
Fear clutched at Ava’s heart. She’d never heard her mother sound like that before.
She carefully crept over to the stairs, peering down.
Her mother and father were sitting together on the floor near the fire, the baby Marie nestled in her mother’s arms. The flickering light cast deep shadows in the parents’ worried faces.
Marie gave a deep, hollow cough.
Ava’s mother caressed Marie’s face. “I don’t know what’s wrong. Her cough is getting worse. And nothing the priest says to do is helping at all. Now he just keeps telling me to pray.”
Her father held her mother’s hand. “Maybe Marie is allergic to something.”
Her mother shook her head. “As soon as the baby started to get sick I’ve been very careful. No new foods. I double check everything I cook to make sure it’s unblemished. I just don’t know what it could be.”
Marie shook with a long, hacking cough.
Ava’s stomach twisted.
She hadn’t realized the baby had gotten so bad. She’d been so preoccupied exploring the mountains and sulking over Dominik’s behavior that she’d completely missed the pain within her own family.
Suddenly, a thought glowed within her mind.
Magdalena was a healer.
Her father’s voice was low. “What if little Marie doesn’t make it through the night?”
Her mother began to sob.
Ava’s determination forged into steel.
She would get help.
Chapter Six
Ava had no trouble sneaking out the attic window or shimmying down onto the low roof of the barn. She’d done it plenty of other times to go fishing in the moonlight or chasing after bats. But this time there was a tense urgency to her motions.
Her little sister was in serious danger.
Ava knew deep in her heart that the Healer Magdalena could save Marie.
Not a soul stirred in the dense, rain-drenched darkness as she ran along the river. Nobody called out as she crossed the long meadow which led to the foot of the mountains.
She slowed her pace as she worked her way up the slope. The mud had gotten slick in places and she didn’t want to fall and hurt herself. Not when little Marie depended on her. The branches tugged at her dress, and her boots were soaked, but still she struggled up, up, always up.
Over the fallen maple, around the outcropping –
Lightning flashed.
Ava’s heart leapt into her throat.
The chasm seemed five times as wide as when she crossed it in the bright daylight. The rocks below seemed crueler, sharper, as if they were fangs waiting to sink into her tender flesh.
She brought the image of her innocent little sister to mind and focused on it. She forced everything else to fade.
She put her hands on the two rope struts. They felt heavy and water-laden beneath her grasp. The bridge was now groaning with the weight of the rain which had soaked into every piece of it.
She put her foot on the first strut.
It felt soft beneath her foot. Squishy, even. As if the ancient wood had soaked up the water like a sponge.
She carefully put her full weight on it …
It held.
She let out her breath. Holding tightly to both ropes, she eased her other foot forward, fully committing herself to the bridge. The next strut seemed even spongier, but it stayed whole beneath her weight.
Step.
Pause.
Step.
Pause.
The rain thundered down around her, the lightning crashed in her ears, and yet she forcefully re
ined in her usual impetuous spirit. She made herself go slowly, cautiously, across that groaning bridge. Because she knew, if she fell, that her little sister would be lost.
She could not let that happen.
Her fingers were cramped because of the cold, her leather boots slipped on the slick wood, and still she stepped, one foot at a time, one moment at a time, along the interminable length. The daggered rocks in the ebony chasm below her seemed to reach up in menace. Her arms and legs ached. And still she stepped … stepped …
There, the last few planks were within reach. She only had to cross those and she would reach the safety of the far side. It seemed almost a sandy shore of security after a long month on a wave-tossed ocean.
Her pace quickened –
There was a lurch.
A crack.
A horrific snap.
The bridge gave way.
Chapter Seven
With all her might, Ava flung herself at the rope dangling along the grassy edge. Her fingers slipped, slid –
They held firm as the rest of the bridge clattered noisily into the depths.
She slammed hard against the rain-soaked wall of earth, but her fingers refused to let go. Her momentum settled down. She clung there, weary beyond all belief, her feet pointing down, down, down into the chasm.
She looked up.
The rain pounded her face. She was a good ten feet below the edge of the cliff. A few feet below her and the rope vanished in a mass of frayed ends. This short length was all she had.
She seated her right hand as firmly as she could on the slick rope. She carefully sought out footholds. And then she reached up with her left hand –
Her fingers slipped down.
Frantically she grabbed back at the rope with her left hand, stacking her two fists on top of each other. She clung –
The sliding stopped.
Now she was even further down her lifeline.
Her heart hammered against her ribs. If she tried to reach up again she might go right off the end of the rope and down into oblivion. There were no good ledges to stand on. No way to dry her hands. Her body was only getting more soaked and weak with every passing moment.
She was alone.
Tears filled her eyes, mingling with the downpour. If she didn’t make it out of this chasm, how would her baby sister be saved? If only she hadn’t raced at the end. If only she’d taken her time, stayed patient, and walked cautiously on those last few treads. But now all was lost. There was only the tiniest of chances that Magdalena could possibly hear any cries for help.
Fire burned in Ava’s eyes.
She would seek out even that tiniest of chances.
She filled her lungs and bellowed out into the cold, dark night –
“Magdalena!”
The call echoed in the chasm, taunting her, and she shouted again, again, her lungs parching despite the waterfall of water around her. She shouted until the hoarse pain of it ripped her throat raw. And still she shouted – shouted –
A glimmer of light shone from above.
A lantern was held out into the deluge.
A face creased with lines eased out of the darkness, with eyes as gray as the distant seas.
“Hold tight,” Magdalena said. “I’m here.”
Chapter Eight
It was all Ava could do to put breath behind her words. “I’m stuck! I can’t climb up!”
“Just hold on,” soothed Magdalena. “I’ll get you up.”
She vanished into the darkness.
Ava considered the woman’s frail form and shook her head. Surely there was no way that –
The rope moved up an inch.
Ava nearly let go in surprise, then clamped down even tighter.
The rope moved again. Just an inch, but it was rising up.
Ava willed herself to be lighter. To be a feather in the wind. To be the tiniest blossom of edelweiss … drifting … drifting …
Slowly, inexorably, she lifted up away from those jagged teeth of rocks. She drew nearer, nearer, and then at last up and over the lip of the cliff. Onto the soft, wonderful, fragrant, soul-soothing grass.
Magdalena came up and tucked one arm underneath Ava. “Come on, young lady. Let us get you inside and dry.”
Magdalena was much stronger than she appeared, for she helped Ava to her feet as if Ava were a mere toddler of two.
The thought of a young child brought Marie’s plight back into sharp focus. Ava croaked out, “Marie is sick! She’s coughing and wheezing. She might not last the night!”
“We’ll take care of Marie soon enough,” promised Magdalena. “First we will get you inside. That is how we make progress. One step at a time.”
Normally Ava would have been racing to the keep, screaming her fears, pushing, pushing … but she was beyond exhausted. She allowed Magdalena to set the pace. To walk them, one step at a time, toward the large, open gates. Across the deserted courtyard. In through the large door and across the hollow, empty great room.
The fire was burning merrily beneath the kettle and Ava gratefully sank to her feet before it. Magdalena moved into a far room and in a moment she returned with a dress. “This should fit you, I think. Give it a try.”
She turned her back and began gathering up bowls and spoons.
Ava quickly stripped out of her soaking wet clothes, draping them over a chair. Then she drew on the fresh dress.
Ahhhhh.
It fit perfectly and the dark blue color was just the shade she loved.
Magdalena came over to fill both bowls of soup. Once again they were sitting side by side in the quiet room, although this time it was lit by flickering candles and the warm fire. The rain crashed in steady rhythm outside.
Ava’s strength returned to her as she ate the fragrant soup, and at last she put down the empty bowl. She looked up at Magdalena. “Do you really think you can help my sister?”
Magdalena nodded. “I know that together we can.”
Ava’s brow creased. “But I don’t know anything about healing. I only seem to know about getting hurt.”
Magdalena drew to her feet and took up a candle in an iron holder. “Come with me.”
She walked back out into the great room and Ava followed along behind. Magdalena stopped at a wooden door opposite the large fireplace. She laid a hand on its face for a moment and then pressed it open.
Ava stepped through.
It was a study of some sort. A large desk lay to the right, with a chair behind it, neat and clean as if the owner had just stepped out. On the remaining walls were tall shelves stacked with bottles, jars, scrolls, and other objects which were hard to make out in the dark.
Ava turned in a circle. “What is this place?”
Magdalena’s voice was hoarser than usual. “This belonged to the … the owner of this keep.” She moved over to a shelf and ran her finger along the fist-sized jars as if searching. Then she nodded and took one down. It held some sort of a poultice of green goo.
“This is what you will need,” Magdalena instructed. “Rub this on your sister’s chest three times a day. It will cure her of her illness.”
Ava skipped forward with joy, taking it up in both hands. “Oh I will, I will! I promise! Now I just have to –”
Realization hit her.
The bridge was out.
She was trapped.
Chapter Nine
Despair soaked through Ava. She had the cure in her hands. The cure which could save her innocent little sister.
And she could not make it home.
She looked up at Magdalena. “What can I do? I need to bring this to Marie!”
Magdalena’s gray eyes were serious. “There is a way, young Ava. But it requires a decision of great responsibility. Do you feel you are up to that?”
Ava eagerly nodded her head. “Whatever it takes, I will do it.”
Magdalena held her gaze. “I believe you would, Ava. You are that loyal to your sister and to your family.”
; She turned. “Come with me.”
Ava followed her out of the study and back into the main room. There, Magdalena moved forward to the great fireplace. She knelt before it with the candle and touched the flame into several places of the pile of logs. In short order the fireplace had warmed into steady life.
Magdalena stood and put the candle on the wooden mantle. Then she took down a square box. It was perhaps a hand’s length on each side and a few inches high. There was some sort of design inlaid on its cover.
Magdalena turned and moved to the table. She laid the box on its surface. She gave one last look to Ava – and then lifted the lid.
Ava’s mouth hung open.
Laid in a circle on a bed of black velvet were twelve silver pendants, each with a matching chain coiled up beneath it. They were made with exquisite detail and each sported a gemstone. The first was a ram –
Magdalena took up the ram and then closed down the lid. She turned to face Ava and dangled the pendant in the air before Ava.
Magdalena’s voice was low. “Do you know what this symbolizes?”
Ava nodded. “That is a ram head – the sign of Aries. I can see the symbol of Aries interlaced in the ram’s wool. I was born on April fifth, so exactly in the center of the Aries timeline.” She gave a low laugh. “My mother always said that I was as perfectly Aries as one could get.”
“And so you are,” agreed Magdalena. “Some people are partially one sign and partially another. A mix, as it were. But you, my child, you are special. Your blood runs strong with the Aries power.”
She nudged her head at the fireplace. “Your symbol is fire. The fire of creation. The fire of destruction.”
Ava’s voice was hoarse. “The fire of my father’s forge.” She had always felt comforted there, but never quite understood why.
Magdalena ran a finger along the pendant. “Your stone is the unbreakable diamond. The stone forged in heat and able to withstand anything. You are the strength of the foundation.”
Magdalena’s eyes moved from the pendant to Ava. “If I give you this pendant, you will have access to great power. It will be up to you to use it wisely. You will be tempted to draw from it at a whim. But you must remember to resist. To only turn to it when all other recourse is gone.”
Ava nodded. “I promise.”
Magdalena moved to stand in front of the fire, and Ava mirrored her pose. Magdalena held the pendant in the air. “Repeat after me. I vow to use my ability in order to help others. I will only use it when all other hope is gone.”