The body was thin and pale, a waxy white with sunken cheeks only death could produce. It wasn't right. Triss knew this was Elder Horst, but her mind struggled to accept it. She couldn't reconcile the kind, perpetually red-faced man with this hollow shell.

  The sickness had come on suddenly. One week he was fine, then next he was weak and without appetite. Two weeks after, he'd wasted away and died. There were no tests they could run, no surgeries they could perform. Not in this world. A sudden pang of homesickness hit her then. Maybe on Earth, they could have saved him.

  A heavy arm rested across her shoulders. Jonal. Solid, steady Jonal. She was grateful he didn't clutter the air with empty, unnecessary words. What could anyone say? What words could encapsulate this feeling? What words could carry the weight of a life?

  "It's time." Reginald's words broke into the eerie silence. He stepped up beside Triss and Jonal. "The men are prepared."

  Jonal took a deep breath before speaking. His words were thick with emotion. "Yes, I suppose you're right." He took his arm off Triss, then stepped up to the body, standing by the feet. Four large men came to stand two per side, and they grabbed handles that stuck out beside the husk that was once Elder Horst. Each grabbed a handle, and with Jonal leading them began to slowly walk the body out of the basement of the council building and up the stairs.

  When they reached the front of the building, Jonal stepped to the edge of the stairs. He spoke with a loud voice that carried through the square. The conversations that had hummed in the air died instantly, the only sound the booming of Jonal's words.

  "People of Thalonia. Today we gather to pay our final respects to Elder Horst." He announced. He cleared his throat, then continued. Triss's mind wandered as Jonal spoke about Horst's life, his time as an elder, and the impact he'd had on the community. In her mind, she drew the runes for her spell over and over. Reginald was right, it would be fine if she cast it with her wand. But she wanted to mindcast it. For Horst.

  She thought about the first time she'd met him, red faced and puffing as he ran up the council steps. She'd gone to his house for meals a few times. He'd always made far too much for the two of them, used to cooking for his children. All grown now, all with families of their own.

  She realized with a start that Jonal had finished speaking. He was starting down the steps, the men with Horst following. Elder Nert brought up the rear of the procession, and Triss joined him, linking her arm in his. He patted her arm affectionately. "Need help getting down the stairs, eh?" He asked in a low, joking tone. Well, low for him. About half the people in the square certainly heard him clearly.

  Triss just smiled sadly at the old man. "If you don't mind, I'd love a hand getting down."

  "Anything for a beautiful young wizard." He winked.

  The crowd parted as Jonal limped through the courtyard, following along as the procession passed them. He seemed to be limping a bit more now, and Triss wondered if his leg was beginning to hurt. She decided she'd have to help him back after, whether he wanted help or not.

  They made their way out of the city gates and down to the docks. Dozens of small fishing boats were tied there, painted in a riot of eye-catching colors. The people spread out along the shore as Jonal led the body to the end of a long wooden dock. A small boat made from bound rushes was tied at the end. They lowered the body into it, erecting a small canvas sail only slightly larger than a table cloth. The boat was pushed out into wide, sparkling river, the wind catching the sail and pushing it slowly along.

  Triss stepped up to the end of the dock as Jonal turned to face the crowd. "As the ocean gives us life, we return to it the life it fed." His voice called to the people, a slow and formal tone.

  This was it. She took a deep breath, then cast the spell, forming it in her mind in one solid piece and empowering it.

  Pain shot through her head, and she swayed slighty. Damn it. She gritted her teeth. She couldn't afford to collapse here. One more try. One more try and if it didn't work, she'd have to cast it by hand. She formed the runes and empowered the spell once more.

  Nothing happened. That was odd. No pain, but no spell. She'd felt the power, done everything right. Why wasn't it working?

  "As we send Elder Horst to his final rest, we ask the spirits to guide his soul. Let these flames light the path we all must one day follow." Jonal boomed.

  Triss was confused for a second, but then she saw a thin plume of smoke rising from the boat. It had worked! Within a minute the entire boat was engulfed in vibrant orange flames, smoking and hissing as it began to sink beneath the bright blue water.

  The people stood, mostly silent except for a few bored children who fidgeted and whined and were hushed by their parents. When the boat finally disappeared, the people all turned as one and began streaming back into the town. Triss knew that the ceremony would end when the boat sank, but she still felt it was abrupt.

  “Well done.” Reginald said, low so only she could hear as they walked back to town. Triss nodded in response.

  When they all arrived back at the town square, it was like someone had flipped a switch on the townsfolk. Long wooden tables were being put up everywhere, the young men in the village working quickly to set them out and line them with chairs. One young man, no more than seventeen winked at Triss as he walked by, somehow managing to carry four wooden chairs beneath his arms. She rolled her eyes at him, but a genuine smile twitched faintly at the corners of her mouth.

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  Within half an hour the entire place was buzzing with life. The tables were set in a large inverted “U” shape, the bottom of the letter closest to the council building. Triss sat near the head of the table, with Reginald on one side. She would have liked to have Nert, or Jonal, or really anyone else on her other side. Instead, she got Mother Amayah. The old cantankerous woman rarely left her small shack near the edge of town, opposite the river. Triss hadn’t actually met the reclusive old woman before, but she’d heard a little about her.

  “She’s a witch. A proper one, too. Best be careful around her lass.” Jonal had said when she’d asked him about the strange lady before.

  “You mean a wizard? Like a female wizard?” She’d asked.

  “No. I mean a witch.” He’d fixed her with a rare hard look, and she’d decided to drop the topic. That had to have been just before Thomas had shown up in town. Then, of course, she’d forgotten completely about the entire thing.

  That is, of course, until the strange old woman was seated next to her at the meal. Triss had absolutely no issues believing the woman was a witch. The diminutive woman wore a long black robe, faded and stained grey all over. Her greasy gray hair stuck out in thin, wild tangles under her squashed and misshapen black hat. Deep wrinkles carved lines across her dirt smudged face, and her nose was so bent it almost seemed to have been broken several times. If Triss had to guess, she’d put the woman’s age somewhere between seventy-five and nine hundred.

  Triss smiled at the woman before introducing herself. “Hi. I’’m Triss.” She held out a hand towards the witch.

  The old woman looked at the proffered hand with a raised eyebrow, grunted, and then looked ahead. “Ok then.” Triss said, a bit of heat in her tone.

  “Not many would offer to shake a witch’s hand.” The witch didn’t turn her head as she spoke. “Dangerous, or so they say.”

  “Well, it’s the polite thing to do. Besides, I’m a wizard. I have my own magic.” Triss responded.

  “Lie.”

  “What?” Was this old lady actually calling her a liar?

  “Apprentice. Not yet a wizard. Not yet past the first order. Lie.”

  “I’m going to be a wizard. It’s not a lie.”

  “Going to be, is not is. Is, is.” The old woman turned her head slightly towards Triss, looking at her from under on raise eyebrow. Then she laughed, loud and long, no hint of a witches cackle. Triss was baffled for a moment, until she caught the faintest hint of a snicker coming from her other side.

  “You!” She smacked Reginald on the shoulder with the back of her hand. “I don’t know what is going on, but I am sure it’s your fault.” He only laughed harder.

  “Oh, he thought it would be funny if I were all mysterious and such.” The witch said with a grin. “The look on your face was worth it, though it would have been more fun if that damnable lizard hadn’t given it away so fast.” She held out a hand to Triss. “Mother Amayah.”

  “Triss.” She placed her hand in Mother Amayah’s. “A pleasure to meet you.”

  Mother Amayah paused, just a half second too long before responding. “Yes, yes. A pleasure.” She mumbled. Then she looked all around, over the seated guests, seeming to spot someone. “Astan! Astan, get your bony ass over here.”

  A young man - the same one who’d winked at her earlier - came running up to the table. “Yes, Mother Amayah?” He said, bowing his head slightly at her. Triss had a sinking feeling in her gut. Was this old witch a matchmaker? That was the last thing in the world that she needed.

  “I need a drink. Go get me the biggest mug of whatever is strongest.” Amayah said to Astan, and the young man took off running without hesitation. Triss let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “Too young for you anyways.” The old woman suddenly said, not turning her head but obviously speaking to Triss.

  “What?” Triss tried to laugh it off, but she knew it sounded forced. “What are you talking about?”

  “I do match young people at times, but not often. And the answer to your next question is no.”

  Triss had seen all manner of spells in her time in this world, from portals to torture spells, even one that had caused a person to explode like an overripe watermelon dropped from an overpass. She’d cast that one, with Grounth guiding it. But this? Was the old witch reading her thoughts? It made her skin crawl to think about it. But she had to know. She opened her mouth to speak, but Amayah cut her off. “I already said no. People are just predictable. And I don’t have time for the constant jibber jabber of questions.”

  Well. Isn’t she pleasant. Triss thought sarcastically.

  She’s dangerous. I don’t say that lightly. Witches are a completely different type of magic. Spirit magic. I would prefer not to go back to the void, so be careful around her. Grounth replied in her head. Triss was surprised to hear from the old wizard in her head. He didn’t speak often, and usually stuck to mocking her.

  Her thoughts on the matter were interrupted when a young man - not Astan - brought her a large plate of food and a mug of a cold, dark beverage. The rest of her table were being served at the same time, and everyone seemed to be digging in right away so she put the thoughts of Grounth away and started on her meal. The food was delicious, and whatever was in the mug was refreshing and obviously alcoholic. She could feel a tingling numbness at the end of her nose when she finished the mug.

  After eating, they were served mugs of hot tea, and she ended up chatting with Nert for a while, leaning over Reginald to talk to the old man. The entire courtyard was full of laughter and conversation, a sharp contrast from the heavy silence of the morning.

  Jonal got up and gave a short speech after the meal as young men walked around offering refills of tea or stronger drinks. Then several other people took turns speaking, sharing stories about Elder Horst.

  When the stories were done, Nert stood and thanked everyone for coming. The young men were already picking up plates and mugs and taking them somewhere to be cleaned, and the townsfolk began standing and helping.

  “Time for us to go.” Reginald said as he stood.

  “Oh, do we have to? I was thinking of staying in town for a while.” Triss replied, crestfallen.

  Reginald pointed to the skies in the far distance where black clouds were beginning to gather. “We don’t want to get stuck in that.”

  Triss sighed and stood. “Fine. But we’re coming back tomorrow. I want to visit a few people.”

  A hand suddenly clutched at her. Thin, wrinkled fingers encircled her wrist, pointed nails not quite breaking the skin but making their presence known.

  “Pack well.” Mother Amayah was still seated, looking up at Triss with unfocused rheumy eyes. “You will be gone for a long while. Don’t trust her.”

  “Sorry, what?” Triss asked. The old witch released her wrist and stood.

  “It was nice to meet you, Triss. Stop by sometime for tea.” Mother Amayah replied, then turned and walked away.

  “What do you mean gone? Don’t trust who?” Triss called after her. When she got no response she started after the crazy old woman, but Reginald put a hand on her arm.

  “Not worth it. Witches are all crazy.” Reginald said. Then, still holding her arm, began to lead her out of the square and towards the castle.