Maggie of the Mist by Madeleine M. (best ebook reader for ubuntu txt) 📕

“No,” the girl said slowly. Maggie all but ran the last few steps into the tree line. As quietly as she could manage with her shaky hands, she secured the fiddle case to Gregor’s saddle.

“Laila, darling,” Maggie called to the dark head of curls in her best impression of the girl’s mother. “Laila, your lunch is ready! Hurry up, now, child.” Laila giggle. The boy smiled. Maggie tried hard not to sigh.

“I guess I better go,” Laila said as she jumped down off the rock. “Thanks for the story, mister.” She called over her shoulder as she ran towards Maggie in the trees.

“Be careful when you’re hiding from mean boys in the future!” The stranger chuckled.

Before Maggie could grab the girl’s arm to pull her up in front of her, Laila seemed to remember something and ran back to the tree line. “Do you know the name of the baby who was saved?” she asked all innocence.

The boy smiled sadly.

“The baby’s name was Magdalene.”

*****

Gregor tore through the little village square, with Maggie clutching the squealing five-year-old. The boy's voice echoed in her head. He had said her name, and unless there was another girl around with the same name, that meant she most likely had some connection to a baby saved from a burning castle. The memories of her aunt’s stories danced in her mind. When they stopped in front of the baker’s shop, she tried not to shove Laila inside in her haste to get to her uncle. She wanted to ask why the girl had followed the red head, but questions she needed to ask Uncle Will won over her curiosity. She quickly place Gregor in his stall, and sprinted to the back door of the workshop. She hadn’t bothered to remove her case or the saddle, and highly doubted the spirited horse would mind the burden for a while longer.

Uncle Will was perched on a stool on one side of the giant anvil, hovering over a piece of paper that he tried to stuff into his pocket as Maggie burst into the room. She ignored the secret paper and looked towards the crowded square. The view from the wall that opened into the street showed another peaceful day in the village, even the blue sky was back. She felt the strange contrast to her mood with grim amusement. The blacksmith’s eyes that were wide with the shock of her sudden entrance, only grew bigger as she pulled the glowing stone from beneath her still-damp shirt. The necklace had seared Maggie’s skin since the attractive green eyes almost caught her.

Her uncle’s large hand grasped her small arm and dragged her into the closed in workspace. “Who saw you?” Uncle Will demanded as his lifted the leather band so he could get a better look at the dark stone around Maggie’s neck. The urgency in his voice didn’t match the excitement that played across his kind face.

Maggie struggled to find her voice. “I… I’m not sure who it was exactly, but I don’t think he saw me.” She felt a surge of panic clutch her chest.

“The timing of this is almost perfect!” The giant of a man bounced on his toes with excitement. He looked like a young boy opening gifts on the morn of Winter Solstice. “Wait, ‘he’?” he froze and then held up his hand. “Never mind, this no longer truly concerns me. Vika and Angus are leaving later this afternoon, you can go with them. I’m sure they would like an adventure. And Redd could help you, as well. But first you need to pack—”

“Uncle Will, what’s going on?” Maggie said exasperated. Perfect timing for what? What was he planning?  Through her jumbled thoughts, her original question came running to the front of her mind. Her hands found the leather band and lifted it up, closer to her face. “Why is the stone glowing?”

Her uncle sighed deeply and stilled his body, his face became solemn. “Megs, I don’t know much about your necklace. That was supposed to be Heather’s lesson,” a glimmer of sadness clouded his face and then disappeared. “But what I do know is enough of a warning for me,” he held his hand out again to prevent further questions. “Whoever you just met, he has an important part in your journey. Whether his influence will be beneficial, or disastrous, is for you to decide. This stone will help you make choices like that. But right now, all you need to worry about is getting away from here. The stone’s behaviour has just confirmed what I already suspected.” He pulled the crumpled paper out of his pocket.

This was a lot to take in. Maggie gripped her small workbench to prevent from falling. Uncle Will’s strong hands guided her back out to the stable and helped her into Gregor’s saddle. Before he sent her home, Maggie gathered her wits. “Wait, I—” she began but her uncle cut in.

“Megs, listen. You need to go home and pack you things. I’ll go tell the other two that you’ll be going with them to see Redd,” At her questioning glance he sighed and patted her leg. “It is too dangerous for you to stay here much longer, lass. Now hurry and get packed.”

“But where am I going?” Maggie still had questions but it seemed now was not the time to ask them.

Uncle Will reached and slipped a piece of folded paper into her shaking hands that had a death grip on the reins.  He gave a gentle slap to Gregor’s flank, urging him into motion, not giving her enough time to ask what it was. Before she was out in the busy square, she heard him call after her.

“You are going to find your family, Megs. You are going home!”

*****

Once Maggie returned home, she stumbled into the kitchen and collapsed into a chair against the wall. Her head swam, trying to make sense of what was happening. She sat up and unclenched her tight fists to rub her face. Something fell into her lap. It was a crumpled piece of paper. The paper – the same one Uncle Will had hidden from her when she had first burst into the shop, and later shoved into her hand – had to be more than just a simple piece of paper.

She picked it up and opened it. The words sprawled across the page with a delicate hand in blue ink. Who uses blue ink again? Try as she might Maggie couldn’t put her finger on the answer that lingered at the back of her mind. She directed her attention again to the letter.

My Dearest Magdalene,

If you are reading this, it means that your time has come. Today, you will finally start on a journey that was laid out before you were born. It must seem sudden and confusing, but your father and I have faith in your abilities to do your best. We know you will overcome the dangers you soon shall face.

According to letters from your aunt and uncle, you have received combat training. Those skills truly will be beneficial to your cause. You have also heard of the story about the burning castle. It is not just a story, daughter, it is your story. You are the babe miraculously save from a burning stone castle. Your uncle ran many leagues to our home, once he knew Camshron had set flame to it.  You can probably guess who that makes you.

Before you return to us, however, you must seek out the help of two remarkable women. They make their home in the Bogs that are fed by the melted snow caps of the mountains of the boarder. When the time is right, you will know how to find them. They shall help you to understand the power of Heather’s gift.

Your father and I have waited patiently for your return and we know that there is still time between now and when we are together again. Let the First Family protect you. The path set before you will have many challenges. Be brave, be strong, and do not let fear control you.

Your Loving Mother

Maggie felt her strength drain from her and pool on the floor at her feet. She reread the blue ink letter several time as she slumped against the little wooden chair. So many things were going through her head at one time. Those were the same words her aunt had said as she was dying. Blue ink was only for the Tìrboghian royals. The letter was from her mother. That made her mother Queen Anice Maria – unless she, and the queen, just happened to write with the only blue ink on either side of the boarder. Wait if my mother is the queen, then my father is the king. That would make me… Maggie gasped.

“I, am a McGregor?” She stated dumbfounded, bolting upright and almost falling off the chair. “I’m the Tìrboghian princess!” Her hand clutched the stone hanging from her neck. It thrummed and gave off a gentle heat, trying to soothe her pounding heart. The longer she held it, the better she felt. Soon, the questions that clouded her mind were burned away like the sun burns away the morning mist. A calm settled over her heart as the stone’s heat seemed to flow through her, like the blood in her veins. It was then she knew she could trust the stone to guide her. It was then Maggie knew she had a greater chance of finding her family than she had ever thought possible.

She rose from the small chair and marched up to her room with renewed confidence. Finding several saddle bags she had only used once before, when she had gone with her aunt to Koal for the festival of the Maiden, she grabbed clothes and stuffed them in. She packed some cloaks – you can never have just one – several dress, and all of her training clothes.  She threw in her hair brush, a bunch of leather ties, and other hygiene items. In the spur of the moment, she decided to ready her fiddle for travel as well. One never knew when music might come in handy.

Not long after her things were packed, and Gregor was loaded, Uncle Will came down the drive in a cloud of dust. Maggie, waiting in the doorway of the little house, had mentally prepared some questions she had for the man. He had done so much for her. Saved her life, even. Maybe he could help her with one last thing before she left.

When she saw the small bag her uncle retrieved from the cart, she knew they were her tools from his shop and her questions were almost swept away with a wave of sadness. I really am leaving, she thought with slumped shoulders. Maggie knew that he wouldn’t know the answers to her many questions; he had done so many other things to help her prepare to leave. She chose to think of what she needed to do. She took a slow, deep breath and stepped out onto the hard dirt of the road that led to the little house.

“You all packed?” he asked climbing down from the rickety wooden seat. Maggie gestured towards Gregor tethered to a rail outside the stable. Her uncle frowned. “I thought you could make better use of these than me.” He handed her the bag. She might need them. Reaching in the sack, she pulled out her small hammer with childish carvings down the wooden handle. She felt a shaky smile cross her lips.

“Thank you,” Her voice came out as a whisper. Maggie looked her big uncle in his deep blue eyes that reflected her sadness of leaving. She jumped up and threw her arms around his thick neck. “For everything. I’m really