Our release came on an odd day at an odd hour. Just when it appeared Jordan might have forgotten us, he allowed our walk. With the Salt Barrel in ruin, our lord needed his cells. Quill and I were taking space. It made sense that we were let go.

  But it was night.

  The sky was empty. Clouds were black, and the moon sat out of view. Leaving Jordan’s Castle, we were escorted by guards that led us out of the lavish forms and beyond its gardens. The air was calm yet cool. The silence of it made the world seem large. Empty streets made the familiar something bizarre and eerily unpleasant.

  Taking it in, it came as a surprise when my cell mates began to leave. Prim and Brisk were of little concern, but Quill moved just the same till I grabbed his arm.

  “Where are you going?” I asked quickly.

  “I need to fix my fingers,” he said, holding his bandaged hand up where I could see.

  The cloth meant to protect his clipped fingertips had begun to turn green. Coupled with the sour scent of rot, Quill’s condition was evident.

  “I’ll come with you,” I said, but he told me, “You should go home.”

  He began to move, but I stepped in time to stay at his side.

  “Your family,” he added till I interrupted, “I’ll see them, but when I’m ready.”

  His puzzled expression made me embarrassed.

  “What reason have you not to see them now?” He asked.

  “We’ve lost my father. I’m not sure how they’ll mend when I tell them I mean to leave as well.”

  “Leave them? Bastien.”

  He combed his hair back with his fingers; it had grown during our time spent together. He and I both could have used a trim.

  “I meant what I said. I’ve remained in this land for long enough,” I tried to explain what felt childish as I said it.

  “Listen to me. There are endless worlds beyond the ocean, but the best will always be where your family lives. Life without those you love isn’t a life at all.”

  “You told me of the flying ship,” I remarked.

  “I thought we were passing the time. Have you forgotten the price of passage is indefinite service?”

  “I remember,” I said.

  “And you still want to go?”

  His eyes, the worry I found in them, were more than I thought Quill capable of.

  I answered him, “I do.”

  Quill’s expression didn’t change all at once. I could see his thoughts moving before his smile broke through.

  “Alright. We can do this. I’ll help you, but you’ll owe me,” he said.

  Together he and I walked the pebbled streets. Had I a friend in that world? Was he so willing? The joy that overtook me was enough to erupt with laughter.

  Magic was a mysterious thing. Few people knew its wonders first hand, few who lived beyond Via. Though many of our people had seen magic or lived amongst witches, they knew not of its intricacies.

  Most commoners believed magic was a thing that required power. They believed it was something that took incredible skill to manipulate, and to a degree, they were both right and wrong. Quill explained that the key to magic was knowledge itself. So long as a person could use magic, all they required was the right spell. And spells hardly, if ever, needed anything of the caster. As long as conditions were met, anyone could perform any spell. The water steps could be performed anywhere with water nearby, but not where water was absent. Shadow magic required there to be a specific level of shade or darkness. There was no limit to how often a spell could be used as long as conditions were met.

  But first, a witch needed a spell, and that was the trick.

  Witches coveted their spells and hid them from one another. A witch was only as powerful as their most extraordinary spell, so why would they share it?

  To heal Quill’s fingers, we needed a spell to replace or mend lost flesh. Such magic was sure to be rare and expensive, but my friend believed he knew a person who might help.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  The Medicine Man?

  “Yes,” Quill answered as he escorted me down familiar steps lit by blue flies.

  “How will he help you? Your fingers are too far gone to save without magic,” I said.

  “The medicine man is a witch. You don’t know this because you’ve never left the island, but He’s more powerful than he seems. He has more spells than the king likely does,” Quill explained.

  “And you think he’ll sell you something to fix your fingers?”

  “No, but I’m sure I can steal something useful,” he laughed just as we arrived at The Medicine Man’s shop.

  “We can’t!” I argued.

  “I don’t have the coin for a healing spell. And I’d rather not lose my entire hand.”

  “I’ll pay for it,” I offered, though I had little to give.

  “That’s kind, but I doubt you could afford it, either. The illusions I know are flimsy and easy to see through, but they were worth a small fortune. Anything with the power to heal flesh will cost an arm or leg.”

  “There must be another way. Can’t you write a spell, a new one perhaps?”

  “That’s impossible. Spells, every one of them, come from the language of gods. I’d have to have studied their entire language before I could write anything without killing myself.”

  Was there truly no other way?

  “If we’re going to travel together, if we’re to be brothers on an adventure beyond the sea, this will be a small endeavor on our journey. Even the most lawful man has to be humble enough to save himself,” Quill added.

  Was his intention to scare me out of my ambitions? If so, it might have worked had we not already spent months in a shit-infested cell. We smelled of rats. Our clothes were rags. And I could feel the dirt on my skin that had salted in my sweat.

  “If they catch us, we’ll hang,” I said with a sigh of acceptance.

  “Us?” Quill questioned, and I answered, “I can’t let you do this alone.”

  “I meant I would save myself here,” he laughed.

  “How do we get in?”

  “Bastien,” he uttered, and suddenly laughter ceased.

  “If you die, I can’t go anywhere. So How do we get in?” I repeated myself.

  The door was open. That familiar medicinal powder was in the air as we stepped inside. The floor was loud under our feet, even as we crept slowly.

  “Does The Medicine Man sleep?”

  “If he does, his eyes are always open.”

  “Does The Medicine Man eat?”

  “If he does, it’s the rarest of meat.”

  “Does The Medicine Man leave?”

  “Only when he has your soul.”

  Quill tried to frighten me, and I let him several times over. There was but a single place to look. Behind the dim archway. We stood at its opening, and I held my arm to keep from shivering. Standing so close, it should have been effortless to see the other side, but it was dark. It was devoid of all light.

  And then Quill stepped through.

  I quickly reached out to pull him back, but he yanked me over the threshold. Passing through the archway was like walking through a veil of blue smoke. On the other side, there was light up above like that of a sun. I saw mountainous shelves made of solid clouds stretched endlessly into the distance. On them were odd goods ordered without category. The floor was water deep, yet our steps remained on the surface, making ripples. Quill, holding my shoulders, spoke before my eyes wandered too far.

  “It’s not too late. You can go back out. I’ll search alone,” he said.

  But I told him, “We stay together.”

  We searched the shelves and found that when our hands touched them for too long they dissipated till whatever they held suddenly fell into the water under us. It was impossible to know if we were closer or further to something helpful, but it didn’t help to stop.

  “Bastien,” Quill suddenly spoke, and I thought he finally found a book.

  Turning around, it was quite the opposite. The Medicine Man found us. Only his head was breaching the surface of the water till he began to rise out of it. I tried to run, but his reflection in the water held my legs in place.

  “You would enter my domain and step through my archway? Have you come to deliver yourself into my pocket?”

  My feet began to sink into the water like quicksand. Quill had already started to fall into the trap. We were both pulled deeper and deeper until the water enveloped our eyes. A million hands dragged me down, and I lost sight of my peer as I fought to resist.

  There was no fight, only torment till the air was gone from my lungs, and I drifted into what had to be the end.

  “Bastien!”

  It was so cold

  “Bastien!”

  Yet it grew warmer.

  “Bastien!”

  My lips. There was something on my lips. I opened my eyes, and he was breathing air into my chest. I might have enjoyed the touch, but as I realized my life hadn’t yet been done, water erupted from my throat.

  “Quill?” I coughed as I sat up.

  We were outside the archway, still in The Medicine Man’s shop, but survived somehow.

  “How are we, how are we,” I stammered.

  My clothes were drenched. My eyes were red. Quill was hardly any better, yet he was on a knee while I was on my back.

  “Leave and do not return. Tell your Mother I spared her boy,” the disembodied voice of the shop’s keeper spoke.

  Quill helped me to stand.

  “My mother?” I asked, but Quill hurried me outside as if we were still under attack.