The Fleeting Magic of Paper

There it was, at last, like the late rosebud that finally bursts into bloom, long awaited and beautiful: the magical piece of paper with a number, and a wax stamp. The valuable paper informed every living creature, with the skill of reading, that it was worth five hundred pieces of gold. Finally, she could set the stone rolling.

Of course, the paper wasn’t magical in the sense that it held any powers; it wasn’t of Markon’s school of magic, or of Jotunheim, but it would make wonders – yes it would.

“You finally got it?” Esny asked, as soon as she put her foot on the sleet street of Arjezoffuke.

Her eyes widened and the smile spread delightful wrinkles through her face. “Yes, dear Esny, I did, I finally did!” She went towards the horses. “Make haste, we have no time to lose. The sawmill closes by eikt, and I want to put an order before that. We have no time to waste.”

“As you command, ma’am!” Esny smiled so wide that the handlebar moustache almost formed a V. Even though they had a fast stride, the point of his spear constantly pointed upwards.

She burst into laughter; this was a victory, and the joy bubbled inside her.

They mounted their horses and left Arjezoffuke with a steady trot. They passed the city wall; then the fields, gardens, and meadows of the infield; then the outfields, where no cattle roamed due to the snowdrifts and ice. They entered the young spruce forest, where the slender trees, dressed in white, stood in dead straight rows. The silence of the winter forest attacked them, closed them in, and their breaths formed clouds around their heads. Even in the saddle, Esny hold his spear with the tip towards the grey heavy sky, almost poking it.

“The seal of Master Pjatuff, that’s the best you can get”, Esny cheerfully pointed out. “The best banker on this side of the river. He is very decent, ma’am”

She nodded. “Indeed he is. With an affordable interest. And that’s the key to rise my family out of this kevasu indefinitely.”

“And what about Mr Revvye”, Esny said in a low voice, with a wandering gaze, as if he approached a spear-toothed cat. “Do you think he will attempt to stop you again?”

“Pah!” She got annoyed by the thought, but now that was only a distant memory. “He can try, but if he does, he will be standing in front of the Althing soon enough. This time I have the means to make it fool proof. He cannot stop me.”

“I am glad that that ordeal is finally over, ma’am. I have almost burnt myself out only by looking over my shoulder all the time.”

“I know, dear Esny, I know. Me too.”

Snow fell from the dark grey sky. The trees stood like frozen white pillars around them, almost cushion soft in their appearance. A soft wind made the snowflakes change direction. But the snow and the cold didn’t bother her anymore. The success, after all these years, made her feel warm and fuzzy inside. The winter darkness would soon fall, but she couldn’t care less about that either. They had lanterns, the bears were in their dens, the wolves didn’t dare hunting here, and the spear-toothed cats were long gone from within these borders. Only a fool would try to rob anyone in the Änilodjil county.

“I sure look forward to warm supper now”, Esny muttered.

“We are halfway there”, they passed the milestone, “we will be there and home again in no time!”

“And thank Vihanril for that!”

*

The piece of magical paper was safely stored in the inner pocket of the vest. He knew its contents by heart by now: the meaning of the text, the weight of the signature.

Of course, the pressed tree pulp cut in a rectangle wasn’t magical, nor did the signature carry any real weight, but that was irrelevant: the text informed what he would get out of this mission, and the signature insured that the reward written on the sheet was legitimate.

It was a promise for a brighter future. Retirement!

At last!

He had hunted in these lands before, so he was reasonably familiar with the surroundings. He knew a good place close to the milestone where he could lie in wait. His bow was ready. He had been insured that his prey would arrive. His patron was well informed, and had even promised him a small compensation, would the prey never show up. That made him trust the patron.

As long as, of course, he had his contract with the signature.

The snowfall would be a slight trouble for his aim. On the other hand, it would disguise most sounds. There would be a snowstorm later tonight, according to the weather wizards, but the hunt would be over by then. If he was lucky, he might even sit at an inn by then, by a roaring fire, ingesting meat on the bone and spiced mead, surrounded by voluptuous bodies.

So where could his prey be? Had he missed it? Had he been lied to? But what about the contract?

Or had the prey even left town?

A snorting in the distance. He squinted through the snowfall: two horses appeared behind the white thin curtain, approaching him.

Slemme.

One rider was a huge man with breastplate, puffed sleeves in bright colours, and a beret with a huge feather in. He held the reins in one hand and a spear in the other, perfectly vertical. He had a bearskin lined mantle.

The other rider was a woman, with a grey coat, red trousers, and a mantle lined with wolfskin.

Well, that is not common in these areas. He would even dare to conclude that it was a distinctive feature.

*

“Did you ever hear that story of the huldra that encountered two unequally tall men in the forest, ma’am?” Esny asked.

She laughed. “No, but please tell me!”

The points of the handlebar moustache turned even more upwards. “You see, ma’am, there were two lumberjacks that had worked hard all day. The first was over a foot taller than the other, an important foreshadowing, if you ask me, ma’am.” He chuckled. “So, after the man-day work, they lay down to rest, and eventually fell asleep under a huge sick spruce. But then the huldra arrived. She found their different statures rather peculiar, and she…”

There was a thump, softened by the rattling of the heavy snowfall. She looked at him to see why he had stopped. The spear fell like a freshly hewn tree. Esny fell off the horse and landed between their mounts. Reflexively, she dismounted, but realised before the boots hit the snow that there was nothing she could do.

An arrow protruded from his palm, just under his beret; the only vulnerable unprotected part of his body; a hit in the shoulders would do nothing than inflict pain.

She grabbed the reins of his horse, still having hers in the hand. The heart exploded in an intense thumping. The breath turned shallow and fast, and her vision shrunk, already limited by the snowfall. She forced herself to stand and peek over the withers on Esny’s horse.

The snowfall intensified, and so did her pulse. She saw nothing but a white wall, broken up by the pillars of the sky; dark evenly spread-out dark shadows of the trees. The horses stomped and snorted, but they stood their ground, well trained Juzummic riding horses as they were.

One shadow moved. It approached.

She put the reins in one hand and drew her sword.

*

He approached the horses cautiously. The bow was useless in this weather; hence he readied his blade.

She had dismounted, the intricate hair knot visible over the horse withers; almost impossible to hit with clear view, unless one was an Elf.

He made himself known. “I only want one thing!”

“Who are you? Show yourself!”

“We only have one business here. You have something I want: a letter.”

A small pause. “No.”

“If I get it, you will live.”

Another pause. “Come and claim it.”

Maybe his fantasies about the inn fire before the snowstorm would come true after all. He approached the snouts of the horses, aware that she could be using the animals as a shield.

A flash of a sword blade among the snowflakes.

“Slemme!” She was armed. This had not been specified in the contract.

It was only field experience that helped him, and he parried. The horses neighed and tripped to the sides, opening up a makeshift arena.

“Where is it?”

“Out of your reach”, she murmured and attacked, stepping over the body of her flashy companion.

She moved stiffly; this was not her area of expertise – not compared to him – but maybe it was a ruse. He steered her sword away and thought he had found a gap, but she slipped away and attacked again.

“I have no wish to kill you”, he said under his breath.

She found an opening and made a jerk with her wrist; her sword however bounced against his chainmail, exposing her. His blade cut the frosty air, and then skin, and then flesh. She dropped her sword, clawing her throat as to stop the bleeding, but the demise was inevitable, and she fell to her face, her life pouring out over the snow.

Whatever hopes and dreams she had, they now left her. Where was her letter? Void if blood-soaked.

He fell to his knees. Her blade had jumped into his thigh and bluntly hacked up the artery.

“Präffinye pjattijän!” He pressed his hand against the wound and clumsily pulled the contract out. Then dropped the piece of paper. The magic of the contract and her value paper faded with his life.

His last thoughts as he tried to stop the abundant blood rapids: had the papers ever even held any true value?

Did they both die for nothing?