Cursed Times - Only Yesterday! Sequel to Wattys 2015 winner!

Chapter 38: Trueth - Autumnworld 1

Trueth shook herself. It must be the mist. Or her sodden company. Or her sodden self. She had not felt that depressed for such a long time; she had almost forgotten how dismal it felt.

'Stay behind, I will need to test this first,' Seisi said, and nobody objected.

Trueth joined him nevertheless right in front of the place where the abject little trail became a street beyond the soft cascades of magic. She felt Seisi extending his ka, probing, touching—and ripping through the light film. It popped once, then was gone without a trace.

'Uh,' Trueth said. 'What now?'

'We proceed,' Seisi responded. 'This veil was ancient. Hundreds of years, I dare say. Two people set it up. I sensed some traces of their sun-flow. The protective spell would not have held much longer. But they did well, I wager we will find their homes adequately preserved.'

'So, shall we spread out then, and check things out?' Trueth asked. When Seisi nodded, she told the others to explore the buildings of which there seemed to be more than enough for all of them.

'See if you can find food, clothing and maybe medicine. We will meet again in a couple of hours, oh hang on... .' Trueth checked her watch. Surprisingly, it was still working and so were the few others spread among the group. Those who had remembered to bring along their electronic devices had lucked out. No signal and the batteries were jinxed.

'Which house do you desire?' Seisi asked as he revolved slowly to take in their surroundings.

It did not often happen that she knew exactly what she wanted, but this once she felt a strong pull from an elegant black and white thatched building winking its mullioned windows at her from across the duck pond. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw the others zipping through the streets, opening doors, slamming back shutters and squeal in delight from inside buildings when presumably they discovered vital supplies. Seisi in tow, Trueth strode around the pond. She pushed the handle of the front door; it opened without a sound, leading straight into a white-washed parlour with a flagstone floor and a wooden ceiling. Behind the heavy wooden furniture a door let towards another room at the back and an oak staircase decorated with crude renditions of plants led towards a gallery.

Seisi was already creaking upstairs, so she went to explore the next room that turned out to be some super-sized kitchen sporting a large hearth, long boards loaded with pans and plates as well as copper cooking pots hanging from the walls. There was yet another door on the other side, and here she struck gold, or rather—the larder. It was full of baskets brimming with apples, potatoes, carrots as well as other fruits and vegetables, as fresh as if they were ready to go to market. A slightly sweetish smell drew her attention to a couple of pheasants and rabbits hanging by the rear exit.

Somebody else was attracted by the still life—damp fur brushed along her ankles as the black dog shot forward, raised itself on its hind legs and pawed for the corpses.

'Shooh! You'll get something, but first we need to cook this somehow.'

An accusing look from bright brown eyes indicated that patience was not a virtue with this particular canine. At least not with the spoils hanging in full view.

The dog was less interested in a collection of colourful baskets containing eggs and parsnips. Nor did it care for the bread box and a fleet of little jars with spices and herbs, most of which Trueth had never seen or smelt before. One thing was sure, they would not go hungry, she thought as she dropped the lid on something appearing to be thyme. At the back of the room, Trueth noticed a bacon dangling from the ceiling, that too would have to be protected from prying paws.

A glimpse out of the little glass pane beside the door indicated a pump and she spotted a big wooden vat on the other side of the door, for washing clothes or people. Or both. From her recollection, Tudor England had not been that hot on baths, but maybe the witches had fewer problems than non-magical people when it came to filling tubs with water.

A soft footfall announced Seisi's return; he was carrying heaps of fabrics in his arms. 'I found this. I believe this to be clothing, albeit it is even more outlandish than the outfits of the demon world. There also are bedrooms upstairs, so we can get a rest. But first we need to get a fire going, you are soaked to the skin.'

With the excitement of exploration wearing off, Trueth felt the damp weight of her pyjamas and blanket again and shivered in the coolness of the abandoned house. She heard the creaking of a door as Seisi went outside and just an instant later a row of logs and kindling shot past her, heading for the hearth. Seisi came back in, extended his hand and with a whoosh, the fire ignited. He then dragged the vat in front of the fireplace and clanked back outside with a number of copper pitchers. The pump was obviously new to him, so he stared at the ornate device from above and below, tugged at the handle, nodded and pressed it a couple of times before clear water came rushing out of the iron spigot.

A row of pitchers slopped back inside and hovered gently on top of what was by now a roaring fire. Trueth had not been idle, in one of the containers she had found bars of old-fashioned soap. Seisi had included linen towels in his foray, and a hot bath seemed a distinct possibility.

But first she had to reconnoiter with the others, so she went to the front, just as a determined knock sounded on the door. The hulking figure illuminated by flashes of lightning indicated the unwelcome presence of the landlord, and it was with trepidation that she opened the door to the driving rain, howling gales and snarling lunatic.

She need not have worried. The landlord was in much better spirits; he had located the local establishment that seemed to be a cross between a coffee house and a pub. He was wrapped in an old-fashioned coaching cloak, carrying a tankard of wine and a smaller pewter pot of steaming coffee. He reported that everybody was safely ensconced in a place of their choice, there were enough provisions to house a small army and given the weather they had decided to stay put until the front blew over. He was observing the tips of his now boot-clad feet with a sheepish expression, then thrust the beverages at her.

'Have these, I know you like them. And tell your man that I'm sorry for my outburst earlier. I'm not like that normally.' With that, the landlord pulled a hood over his head and splashed through the downpour towards his new pub.

Wonders never cease, thought Trueth as she shut the door on the deluge and went to seek out her bath. And her man.

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This chapter is dedicated to @yasmani111 Thank you so much for supporting my stories!

The image is from DeviantArt, copyright perey.