The Wealding Word by A C Gogolski Page A

close rather than bounding after them. “It’s not time for playing,” she told him. The haze in the distance had turned the sky a sickly sepia color. Hawks, falcons, osprey, and hundreds of smaller birds soonfilled the air, all fleeing the ochre clouds. Nell didn’t need sorcery to know the animals were spooked.
    The thought of magic brought Lady Zel to mind once again, and she tried to remember her conversation with Peter earlier in the day. After some time, Nell ventured, “Were you her student?” It wasn’t necessary to say who she was talking about. The hermit looked much older than the sorceress, though he said she had taught him magic when he was younger. He simply nodded in response, saving his breath for the hike. “But you’re old,” Nell blurted. “So then how old is Lady Zel?”
    Except to pick a few mushrooms, they hadn’t stopped since they left Peter’s house, and already they were within the outer edge of the woods. The old man suddenly slumped down to rest beneath a stand of hazelnut, drawing air in quick, ragged gasps. “Yes… she tried to teach me… long ago,” he panted. “Fifty years… when I was a young man. She’s older than she looks, much older, but you know that already.” He counted names on his fingers, “Rhys, Rikuth, Reginald, Ryan. That would make her well over one hundred.”
    “Ryan? Do you mean Prince Ryan?” Nell asked, forgetting her other question.
    “Hum? Yes,” Peter mused. “He’s her great-grandson – no, probably her great- great grandson.” Nell wondered at the news as the old man went on remembering. “Rhys was acting as king when I was Rapunzel’s understudy. In those days, other things about her interested me more than her magic words though.” He cleared his throat. “Her library was vast. Science, math, languages… these could be looked at and studied properly. Not so with sorcery.” The word hung in the air like a curse. The hermit scoffed. “You can study science and continue being yourself. But magic… it changes you. You have to make room for it on the inside, and that means getting rid of a lot of things that you love: the things that make you who you are. I liked myself just the way I was back then – and still do!” Hepicked up a cluster of hazelnuts bound by a pointy green husk. “No, Lady Zel’s words were not for me. Hsst.” Peter shushed, even though he was doing all the talking. “Get down.”
    Nell did as she was told, with Rawley crouching at her feet. Just then she heard twigs snapping close by. A fishy sea smell filled the air moments before a creature burst through the trees. It stopped not far from Nell and Peter, its chest and green-scaled shoulders heaving from a frenzied run. Nell recognized it instantly – the wide-set eel-eyes, glistening skin, and webbed claws. “Grumlin!” The words escaped her lips before she knew she was speaking. And there was no time to hide!
    “Just stay still,” whispered Peter.
    The creature had a wooden shield fastened to one arm, and a knife in its webbed hand. Although it crouched only a few paces away, the circular eyes on either side of its head didn’t seem to work very well. It looked past Nell and Peter several times, but it knew something was amiss. Blindly it cut the air with its blade, casting about beneath the trees. In another moment, the creature caught the scent of turnip stew. Protective lids slid over its eyes, turning them a bright coral red as it crept toward Nell. It was tired of running, and ready to kill.
    “Oh dear, it has our smell,” Peter whispered. He grabbed a stick among the leaves and raised it against the grumlin, but the wood was rotten and broke in two with a wet snap. “Oh dear!”
    Without warning, the creature sprang at Nell, its knife flashing in lightning arcs. Desperately she threw herself backward and lost a lock of hair, so close did its blade slash by her face. Landing on her back, Nell stared directly up the murderous blade – when