Wizard of the Wood
How to Prove Yourself

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9

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Nervous? The feeling of being on edge? Was that what Rylir was feeling? Was that what was churning his insides and keeping him alert to every move the giant sorceress made.

This was the first time since meeting her that he felt truly uneasy in her presence. Her hesitation and inability to answer his question was beyond out-of-character for her.

It made him question everything – it made him question her.

Was she actually better at disguising her intentions than he thought? Or, giving her the benefit of the doubt, maybe she actually didn’t know.

She knew everything…

Except for this…

Why?

And why wasn’t she more curious as to why she didn’t know? Did she not want to know the answer?

There were way too many questions going through his head all at once, but Rylir, for one reason or another, felt reluctant to leave her. He was curious about the Wizard of the Wood, but he was also terrified that she wasn’t everything he thought she was.

There had to be a reason. Essie taught him that. So, through his unease, he decided to stay.

At the same time, he felt these past days weighing on him and he suddenly realized how dependent he had become on the different contraptions he built in Essie’s home as well as her hospitality. Just over two months had passed and he was already complacent, lingering in a warm bed and expecting three warm meals a day. He would help prepare the meal, yes, but it was always with Essie hovering, either being overprotective or want to do it herself.

There was a time he was completely independent – autonomous. He missed those days. Granted, he didn’t miss the cold, but he did miss moving in an environment that didn’t leave him completely winded. The climb from one shelf to the next sometimes felt like a death-defying act, but at least he was capable of accomplishing it.

He would rather be winded than carried around like a pet rabbit, which was how he felt every time Essie decided to “expedite the process” by carrying him. She meant it as an aid, a thoughtful assistance, but it was happening more frequently since he asked her about the jars.

It was decided.

He was going to be more assertive and insist on doing more himself.

So, when Essie said they were going for an afternoon herb harvest, he decided to really put his best foot forward and show he was capable, dependable, to Essie. Maybe if he showed she didn’t have to worry about him so much, maybe she would feel comfortable easing up and trusting him with her history and the things she knew.

Packed and ready before she had a chance to wake him, Rylir practically stood at attention on the shelf when Essie put away her writing supplies and finished pulling on her heavy cloak. Her ice shard like eyes spotted him in an instant, and her head tilted curiously.

“Good morning, I’m ready when you are,” he greeted. Essie immediately stared at him suspiciously, but it was only to disguise her astonishment at seeing Rylir prepared to leave before her. She cleared her throat and extended her hand for him to climb onto.

“You’re up early,” she remarked, sounding pleased. Rylir nodded and let his nerves dissipate as he stepped onto her palm, once again bracing himself against the pad of her thumb.

“You sound surprised,” teased Rylir. Essie maneuvered her hand by her neck where she had recently sewn a pocket into the hood for him. He grasped the fabric and bounced on his toe before half jumping, half launching himself into the interior hood pocket.

“Pleasantly so,” she stated in her matter-of-fact tone. “Wasting time isn’t a hobby of mine.” Rylir had barely situated himself when Essie strode over to the door, opened it, and shut the door behind her. The snow had melted slightly, and the air’s chill had subsided. There was a hint of late spring which had undoubtedly set in on the valley below.

Essie closed her eyes and inhaled the fresh mountain air. It felt liberating, taking in the air. It felt free, like she could just let go of the world and spiral into the sky.

She muttered the incantation, “volmusca,” before darting down into the forest and cliffs below. Rylir felt his insides rise up into his throat at the sudden drop. His knees shook as he was completely weightless for that brief moment in time. A scream couldn’t have escaped because there was no wind in his lungs to do so.

Trees and rocks flew past as Essie descended the cliffside of Fanged Ridge. Leaping from one stone to the next like a mountain goat, Essie skipped across them like a stone on water until she landed sure footedly on the other side.

“Still with me?” she asked, the breath she had been holding lingering in the air in a thick mist.

“Yeah, barely. Left my insides at the top thought,” muttered Rylir as he caught his breath. Essie stood slowly, a quirk of a smile on her face, and turned her eyes to the portion of the forest that was clear and beginning to show signs of life along the evergreen bushes.

“Rest assured. We won’t be long. We need to harvest some panax quinquefolius and then we’ll be on our way. Remember what that is?” asked Essie as she stepped into the field and removed her hood.

Rylir fought the fabric of the pocket until he was free to climb out onto Essie’s shoulder. He thought about the name for a moment. Quinquefolius? He’d heard that before. Rats! Why couldn’t he remember? Quinque. That translated into a number, right? Five!

“It’s…”

“Wait! I… I think…” Rylir held his breath and closed his eyes to feel the cold air as he had seen Essie do time and again. This one meditative technique seemed to do the trick, because he suddenly remembered what he associated five with. Two arms. Two legs. One head. Five. A doll. It looked like a doll!

“Ginseng, right? For… um… ummm… sleeping? Trouble sleeping and something… coughing?” said Rylir. His heart skipped a beat as Essie glanced over at him, a genuine smile on her face.

“Dedicating yourself to your studies I see,” she complemented. “Very good. I’ll make an alchemist out of you yet.”

Essie stepped carefully into the field and knelt, nearly making Rylir lose his balance, and scraped away a small patch of snow to reveal the growing sprigs underneath. Wordlessly, she began to harvest the plants, which is what Rylir didn’t want. He’d just had a banner moment, and he didn’t want it to end there.

“Um… Essie? Do you think I could try? Harvesting I mean,” requested Rylir, holding his breath as he waited for her response.

“There’s no need. I’m almost finished. You can replant them and tend to them once we’re back home,” she replied bluntly and without hesitation.

“But, I really think I could learn…”

“You’re currently working to comprehend the true names and uses for these herbs and where to replace them. Learning how to harvest properly takes time, which we will have in the summer months,” stated Essie.

Rylir bit his lip and peered over edge of her shoulder. It was a long way down, and it made him weak in the knees to think about jumping. But, if he was going to make an impression and be more assertive, then he would have to bend some of the invisible rules tying him down.

He knelt carefully on Essie’s shoulder and fished out a rope he brought from Essie’s home and quickly anchored his line to the edge of the pocket with a hook he created from a sharpened prong from a gardening tool Essie didn’t use anymore. With a daring hope, he grasped the line and slipped off of Essie’s shoulder, belaying down faster than he would’ve liked.

Essie, feeling the shift on her shoulder as well as the sudden slip instinctually reached up a cupped hand under Rylir, who instead pushed off of her hand and continued sliding all the way until he reached the ground. He had made it about two steps toward the place Essie cleared with her arm when her fingers tugged at the back of his winter cloak.

Rylir tried pulling away but found himself suddenly restrained. The way Essie’s fingers pinched his cloak kept his arms pulled taut. His feet were suddenly lifting off of the ground.

“What do you think you’re doing?” asked Essie as she continued to lift Rylir up into the air. With calculated precision and skill, she rotated her wrist until he lay face up in her palm. She released her pinch on Rylir’s cloak. She suddenly felt confused as she watched Rylir’s expression shift into something she hadn’t seen before.

“Essie, I can do this. I can do things on my own,” insisted Rylir. Essie went through the list of emotions and tones Kaven walked her through and tried to identify Rylir’s tone.

Upset?

Disappointed?

Annoyed! That’s what it was. He sounded annoyed.

And angry…

But… why?