The Snow Storm

The snow came slowly this year, falling in light flutters that floated wistfully in the wind. Unseasonably early despite the heat, only by the fierce winds and the water in the air was it allowed to grace the earth. Then, as the weeks wore on, more and longer snows came, until at last a blizzard descended on the land, just in time for the holy day, His day.

Annalae grasped at the hem of her cloak in a vain hope to guard against the cold. She had seen the blizzard in her visions, and had been cautioned by her peers back in the city against her yearly pilgrimage, but of course she refused to heed them. Nothing would stop her from making this journey, not snow or rain or hellfire. It was the one day a year she had to herself, free from the demands and intrigue of her service to the nobles of the city, reaching into the veil of time for the sake of petty politics and power grabs.

She walked a path that cut through the wilderness, down the hills and the plains, into the cold dark woods. Snow blanketed everything, and made her path difficult to follow, but she knew the way. She'd walked it many times before. Too many. The journey was getting harder every year, already she felt the ache in her knees, the pain in her back. Heralds of the terrible truth that all men seek to escape. Even with her magic, she can do nothing to stop the ravages of time. She can only peer into the mists of obscurity and pull knowledge from the void, acting on that knowledge was the job of others, politicians and soldiers, not wizards. The wizard only sees what others can not.

Finally Annalae saw through the trees and snow to her destination, just as the sun began to set. A full day of walking had reached its end. It was a simple hut, tucked away in some obscure corner of the forest, far away from anything resembling civilization. It was barely fit for a dog, let alone a wizard, with its hard mud walls and roof of old thatch, from which rose a plume of smoke. But Annalae had only fond memories of this place, and smiled faintly at the sight of it. She shuffled up to the wooden board that passed for a door and knocked on it with her staff.

The board slid to the side, revealing the withered face of Sem. She looked at Annalae through glassy eyes and gave a smile that was missing teeth. "I wondered if you would come tonight, wizard. Never would have expected a pampered sorcerer of the court to weather this storm."

"I wouldn't miss this day for anything. I made a promise and I intend to keep it until one of us meets our maker."

"If there is a maker to meet then He has much to answer for. Come in."

Sem pushed the door aside. She wore only a filthy rag about her loins, her saggy flesh otherwise exposed to the cold air. One quickly grew accustomed to the immodesty of witches. Sem grabbed a musty looking robe and draped it over herself, apparently for Annalae's sake.

Annalae stepped in, pulling the board over the opening again. A firepit burned on the dirt floor. A pot of stew hung over it and filled the room with a delicious smell. Sem's cooking was reason enough to make the journey.

"You're just in time," she said, grabbing a pair of wooden bowls and spoons from inside a basket. “Rabbit stew. Found the poor thing under a fallen tree branch. Nice and healthy and dead, untouched by scavengers. Sometimes these woods are kind to me.” 

“A blessing, no doubt.” Annalae took her bowl and held it out as Sem filled it with the stew. 

Annalae sat cross-legged on the dirt with the bowl between her knees and took a moment to say grace. Sem filled her own bowl and waited politely for the wizard to finish before digging in. It took a while, and the stew in their bowls risked getting cold. 

“I think your prayer gets longer every year,” Sem said with a chuckle.

“Every year I have more reason to be grateful,” said Annalae when she had finished her prayer and began eagerly to eat. 

“Such good fortune!”

“Quite the opposite, actually.”

“Ah, the worries of city life. Suppose you count your blessings where you can.”

“You could stand to show more gratitude for your fortune.”

“In these woods, we show our gratitude by enjoying our blessings with enthusiasm.” 

Yes, Annalae had seen the way the people of the woods ate with such gusto, like it was the last meal they'd ever get. For all they knew, it might be. Life in the woods was difficult, a fact Annalae observed in her trips to study the magical practices of the pagans that lived beyond the city walls. It was on such a trip that she first met Sem, though under less than ideal circumstances. An unexpected blizzard, not unlike the one they were experiencing currently, had left Annalae injured and without adequate shelter. It was Sem who found her half frozen to death, and nursed her back to health in this very hut.

The magic Sem used was unlike anything Annalae had seen. Sigils painted onto thick leaves and burned, chants in foreign tongues by the fire. There was nothing of the scriptures Annalae was used to, the careful and precise rituals in delicately maintained chambers. Sem's magic was meant to heal and bring fortune, not merely to see, though she did fortune telling as well. Her role in her community was of a spiritual leader and healer. Very different from Annalae's more academic role. 

In the end Annalae had healed and had a pleasant time of it as well. When she'd asked Sem how she could repay her kindness, Sem asked only that she'd stay to share a proper meal. It coincided that the holy day fell on a day that held similar spiritual importance to the pagans, the winter solstice. Thus their tradition had begun. Annalae made a promise to come every year on the holy day to enjoy Sem's company once more. Though the council of wizards at the city had rejected her studies into pagan magic as a waste of time, she had learned much. 

That was a long time ago, long enough for the years to show on both of their faces. Sem had always been much further ahead in the years than Annalae, by quite a wide berth, and Annalae was no spring chicken herself anymore either. She’d spent many years locked away in castle towers pouring over scriptures and grimoires, and Sem had been in the gardens gathering herbs and communing with nature spirits through sacred rituals. A dedication to their respective crafts that left little room for any other concerns. A small price to pay for mastery.

“Tell me, Sem, how has your practice been treating you of late?” Annalae asked, having finished her stew.

“Nothing beyond the ordinary, I’m afraid,” said Sem.

“Surely you must have some stories to tell of the past year.”

“There was one, a few months ago. Someone came in for a fortune telling. A young man, a bandit. He made his living as a highwayman with a gang of his friends, lost orphans of the woods. He had tired of a life of violence and thievery and wanted to know if he would ever escape it. He wanted to know if he would ever find love, a family of his own. A home.”

“And what did you see in his future?”

“Nothing. Betrayal from his friends. A violent, meaningless death.”

“Is that what you told him?”

“I didn’t have the heart. I told him his future is unknown, that his fate was his to decide.” Sem stared into her half full bowl of cold stew for a moment, as if seeing something in the ripples of the broth. “I think I’m growing soft. I used to present the futures exactly as I saw them, the good and the bad. But there don’t seem to be many good fortunes anymore.”

“It’s much the same in my world.”

“What, having to prophesize the doomed romances of young arrogant nobles?” Sem said with a chuckle.

“I’m tasked with predicting the outcomes of wars, Sem. Fluctuations in the economy. Beseeching God to bless our armies and merchants.”

“Anything I should be worried about?”

“Let’s just say our kingdom’s future prospects aren’t looking great.”

“A sign of the times, I suppose.”

Sem ate the rest of her meal slowly. The bowl had gone cold. When she finished they sat in silence for a long time. They didn't have much to talk about when they didn't want to talk about magic. All they could do now was bask in each other's presence. The fire fizzled down to embers, and the cold began to creep in. Sem fed it some twigs in the hope of keeping it going, but it wouldn't take. 

In the dark, cold silence, a question occurred to Annalae. A completely ridiculous question. She'd thought of it before but tried to bury it. Just another foolish idle thought distracting her from the task at hand. But it was a persistent thought that never quite went away. It came as a whisper, at first. A vague, imperceptible echo in the back of her mind she’d felt on the day she first met Sem. Slowly, with each year, it grew a little louder. For many years it only occurred to her on her yearly pilgrimages to Sem’s hut, but lately, she felt it even at home. The voice in her head had grown as loud as a storm and constantly pulled her mind away from her work.

Why don't we just quit?

It rang in her mind as she watched Sem try in vain to tend the fire, as she tried desperately to think of something to say to her that didn't have to do with magic and the horrible petty things they see with it. 

“Sem,” she said. “Have you ever thought of…”

Sem looked up at her from the fire, face glowing in the embers. Annalae hesitated.

“...coming to live with me in the city?” Annalae finished.

Sem scoffed. “And be your pet savage for aristocrats to laugh at? No thanks!”

“I didn't mean it like that.”

“I’d just as soon ask you to give up your practice and live out here with me!”

“Maybe that wouldn't be such a bad idea either…”

A silence passed between them, broken only by the cracks and pops of the dying flame.

“What are you saying?” Sem asked in a hushed voice.

“I’m not getting any younger, Sem, and neither are you. Don’t you think it’s time for a change?”

“I’ve thought so for a long time, but this is a little drastic, don’t you think? I mean, you’re asking me to give up magic. I’m attuned too deeply into this place. If I leave I have nothing.”

“It’s much the same for me. My practice does not afford me any time for companionship, yet when I think of the time I could’ve spent with you, it all seems so meaningless now.”

“Are you saying you want to give it up?”

“I think I am.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“A little, yes.”

“What would we even have left without magic?”

“Us. We’d have us.”

Sem paused. The last embers burnt out finally and left them sitting in the dark. They waited for the other to say something, but no words came from either. Annalae crawled towards Sem, searching for her in the blackness. Their fingers met in the dirt. The storm clouds above parted and the moon’s light dripped through the gaps in the thatch roof like rain, illuminating their faces just a little, enough to see their eyes through the steam of their mingling breath. 

Their eyes closed, and their lips met. The hut was freezing cold, yet in Sem’s embrace, Annalae felt like an inferno.