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“We might need that, but before I pull witches from other duties, we need to know more about the situation and this warlord. Find out everything you can, not just about present events, but also about the past, which may hold a clue.”
“Hold on, you want me to spy?”
“Yes.”
Fionna grinned. “Well, that’s more like it. I’ll take skulking and poking my nose in places I shouldn’t over playing nursemaid to a man most likely having a mental breakdown.”
“Don’t be flippant, Fionna. You will have to be very careful,” Amelia admonished.
“Aren’t I always?”
“No.”
The sharp retort led to Fionna smirking. “But I get results.”
“That you do, hence why I want you to go. Take whatever you need for supplies. Plus…” Amelia reached into her desk and pulled out a small mirror. “This will be faster than a bird. You remember how to use it?”
“Yes.” The mirror linked to another in Amelia’s possession and only required one user to infuse it with magic to activate. It would allow them to speak over long distances.
“Good. Now run along and pack your things. You’ll leave in the morning. I’ll reply to the warlord’s request and let him know you’re on your way.”
With that, Fionna was dismissed. She headed to her room, annoyed at being ordered to go on a long journey, but also excited. She’d not travelled in a while and honestly, the idea of debunking whatever nonsense had the warlord in a tizzy might be fun. She didn’t seriously believe some great evil was at play. Amelia could lean towards the dramatic. While there’d been rumors and stories of events well out of the norm, most could be resolved by the point of a sword—or incinerated in a fireball.
While Amelia had told her to leave in the morning, Fionna found herself too restless to wait and headed for the south tower with her things. The many flights of stairs were unpleasant but necessary as they led to the rooftop where three wooden sculptures of birds awaited.
Fionna strapped her packed bag behind the dip that formed a saddle. She placed a cushion on the seat as she knew from experience her bottom would get sore after a few hours. She checked the bridle around the wooden bird’s head, not there to guide but for her to hold on. She gave it a few firm tugs to ensure it remained secured. Same with the lap strap that gave added protection from falling.
Checks done, she slung her leg over the body of it and settled in place, belting herself in before she closed her eyes and placed her hands on the smooth grain of the bird.
As a child, it had taken her a while to learn how to touch the magic within her. That day with the mercenary, emotions had unlocked it, but to be a proper witch, she had to learn how to access it without being deathly afraid or angry. Amelia proved to be patient during that process of discovery. It helped that once Fionna figured it out, she caught on quickly and excelled.
Turned out Fionna had more than a little gift when it came to wielding the power of the elements. She could touch and manipulate the threads for fire, wind, water, and earth. She only struggled with spirit, something healers excelled at.
Through her hands, she let the threads of air flow into the figurine which already had a spell in place that made it light as a feather. More twisting of strands brought a breeze strong enough to lift her ride. She tied off her magic and turned off her other sight, the threads that wound through everything distracting—and tempting.
She took in a deep breath of crisp air. She did love flying and it had been a while. To those who wondered why she rode a wooden bird instead of a chair that might be more comfortable, people would notice a chair flying in the air, but the silhouette of a bird, even one with a rider, wouldn’t garner as much attention.
Unlike her early days of flight, Fionna did have to be more careful now due to aerial predators. Dragons had been cropping up all over the continent and there was no denying they were masters of the sky. Although, she wouldn’t be averse to testing her skills in flight with one.
She only flew until nightfall, stopping once full dark hit in a small town with an inn, her bird shrunk down to fit inside her satchel. She skulked in a corner of the tavern on the main floor, a voluminous cloak covering her head to toe, the deep cowlhiding her features. She didn’t want to draw unwanted attention, not because she feared for herself—those in Acca didn’t have the same prejudice against witches as other places—but because Amelia would be peeved if she had to recompense some idiot’s family for drunkenly thinking he could get frisky with a witch.
The innkeeper offered her a room in the attic, which suited Fionna just fine even if it required her climbing a ladder to enter it. Once she pulled in the ladder and closed the hatch, it gave her a secure place to sleep.
A sleep interrupted when the screaming started.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Although she woke to screams, Fionna didn’t assume the worst until the scent of smoke wafted through the cracks in the floorboards. A fire. Well, that explained the panic, not that she indulged in the emotion.
She gathered her belongings and slung the satchel around her body before opening the hatch. A billow of smoke rose to fill the space and she coughed once before using some magic to form a bubble of air around her head and remove the smoke from it.
The ladder dropped with a thump, and she descended to find the doors on the second floor left ajar, the occupants fled. She traversed the hall to the stairs and paused at the top. Flames licked the treads, the fire spreading rapidly on the main floor. Fionna expanded her shield and added a buffer against the heat of the inferno.
It surprised her that no one had formed a water bucket brigade. Still too busy screaming. She could hear those who’d escaped outside causing a ruckus.
How useless.
Fionna might have expended the effort to quell the worst of the blaze only the structure was already doomed. A rafter felland crashed into the bar. The ceiling was alight. Looked like they’d have to rebuild.
