The Saga of Misty Vale--Chapter 3

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Eudora again wandered in mists, but these felt safe and familiar. How she missed morning rambles through the misty meadows behind the dunes along the Kattehav Sea! "The Sea Witch is brewing," her grandmother had said. But her magical family feared not the witch's brew, which always felt fresh and smelled of the sea. She took a deep breath. Toast?

Her mind began to awaken. She saw the pink of light beyond closed eyes then, after a few flutters, her tavern room. Her stomach growled loudly.

Brent stood beside her, looking down into her eyes. "Welcome back, Eudora. We'd missed you."

She laughed. "Help me up. I'm starving."

Brent helped her sit up, gently propping pillows behind her back. "It's a relief to hear you say that." He shook his head as he placed a tray of tea and buttered toast on her lap. "So much lost," he whispered.

"I'm sorry about Mary." Guilt for being too late turned her stomach. "The baby?" She clung to the comfort of her hot cup of mint tea, slowly inhaling the scent then taking a small sip to settle her stomach.

Brent pulled the chair closer to her bed and sat down. "Alma thinks she might make it. She took milk a few times."

Thank Hekla. "And Thom? How's he coping with it all?" She took a bite of the crisp toast.

Brent's face hardened. "The baby is orphaned."

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She looked around the room. The crib to one side and the simple bed on the other were both empty, but the bed was neatly made. The open window let in fresh air and set the curtains billowing. A low dresser beside the door provided both storage and a changing area. Quite a difference from the luxurious room in the royal castle where Regina spent the first month of her life.

"The magic still lingers here, but I don't understand it." It had been over a week, Brent said, so why did she sense her own magic, and that of Absal, Magni, Edilon, and Ottilie? Even if the scents clung to the vale, they shouldn't be stronger in this room. If only I could consult someone else. Even Grandfather.

She stood before the crib, as if preparing to stab into it. "Here?"

"Yes, and I was over here." He moved to just inside the door.

Eudora summoned her magic and focused on the lingering taint of the unfamiliar caster, trying to trace it to the source. With her eyes closed, she visualized the reverse path of the magic. It arced downward from a few inches to her right and pooled in a small blob in front of her knees. She opened her eyes.

The magical source had been where a baby would lay. "It is unheard of for anyone below ten to use the power. She must be wearing an amulet or something."

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The smell of boiling garbaa milk and the sight of a sturdy white-haired woman at the rugged black cookstove took Eudora back to her childhood home by the Kattehav sea. Nana! Then Alma turned and the illusion was broken.

Eudora's magical senses, heightened by the search earlier, detected the faint whiff of the magic she sought beneath the odors of milk, meals, and baby.

Before she could focus, Brent said, "Alma, Eudora needs to--"

"Needs to check on your charges." Oops, she hadn't thought to tell him not say anything until she was sure what was going on. She gestured to the day-old infant in Alma's arms. "May I?"

Eudora snuggled the small infant in her arms while she gently probed the baby's health signs. "She's a bit weak yet, but nothing plenty of food and love can't cure."

"That might be a problem." Alma's voice crackled a bit from age. "It'll be a few months yet before the second nanny garbaa is ready to milk. With Regina growing and now this wee one, we don't have enough."

Eudora gently rocked the baby girl she continued to hold. "Are there wild garbaas in the mountains here, Brent?"

"Yes, Edmund mentioned seeing some." Brent ran his fingers through his short cropped hair.

Eudora nodded, adjusting plans in her head. "If Edmund can catch us a nanny--or two--with milk in her udder, I can spell them to ease milking. In the meantime, we can mix a bit of sheep milk into the garbaa milk for Regina. She can better tolerate it at her age. But no cow."

As if she recognized her name, Regina chose that moment to wail. Loudly and demandingly.

Alma turned to get the baby. "She's done nothing but fuss and eat since yesterday evening. She must be in a growth spurt."

Brent stopped her. "Let me. I know your knees don't like the ups and downs." He bent down to gather the squalling baby from the thick quilt that covered the slightly rough floorboards. His strong arm curled around her body and he carefully adjusted her dress to cover her legs.

For a moment, Eudora simply enjoyed the sight of man and baby. But the magic smell emanating from Regina demanded her attention. The scent that she had traced to the crib was definitely attached to the baby princess. As was the smell of dirty diaper.

Changing the diaper gave her a good chance to magically examine Regina. As she undid the ties on the cloth diaper, she felt under the dress for an amulet, but found nothing. She closed her eyes and again searched for the source of the magic she smelled.

No doubts remained. Princess Regina herself was the unidentified caster she had smelled. Instead of growing, the baby had used all her energy on magic. An infant mage. Eudora had herself been considered a child prodigy for having powers arise only a few months past her tenth birthday. Who knew what toll the magic might take on the princess's developing body?

Eudora was cut off from anyone she could have consulted about Regina's physical growth and magical development. And controlling magic before mature enough to understand the consequences--that was an even bigger concern.

Eudora struggled to keep from crying as she finished changing the baby.

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My apologies for the delay continuing this story. I got distracted by other projects. I will soon be distracted by travel, but I will try to get one more segment out before I leave. I'm working on it. My thanks, as always, to the entire Fiction Workshop on PalNet. I especially owe @thinknzombie and @carolkean for detailed edits that helped improve the story, but many others helped with editing and, often more important, with encouragement to keep writing. The crowd in there is like a family.

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