The last thing she remembered was trying to close the loop. You must always close the loop, Nim thought to herself. She thought she had successfully completed the rent in space and time that had sent Caroline hurtling away from the invading force. No witch should be able to track her down if Nim had done it correctly. Magic left a residue that could be detected if a witch could do so, not all could, but those who possessed such sensitivity could unravel a spell, much like pulling on a loose thread hanging from a sweater.
She opened her eyes to find the familiar sight of her barn. Sitting on a hard wooden chair, she tried to reach for her cane resting upon the ground near her feet before realizing she had no feeling in her hands. Coarse ropes wrapped around her wrists behind her, cutting off her circulation. She struggled for a moment against her binds before reaching down within herself to channel what energy she could from the earth.
The ropes made of jute fiber cut into her skin. An absent thought reminded her that the same plant grew here on the farm. Must be my own rope they tied me with, she thought bitterly. She would be able to loosen the fibers with the energy, except when she tried, she felt...nothing. The familiar warmth of the earth's magic was severed from her somehow. Never had she felt so alone in the world. She thought the feeling might be akin to losing a limb. A deep sorrow filled her, realizing she was cut off from the same life energy that she used without even thinking now. How could this be possible?
A soft low laugh penetrated the silence from behind her.
"It's called 'detachment,' Lorna here made the discovery herself," Talmot told her, gesturing to someone behind her. Impossible, she thought. Disbelief marred her face as Nim turned her head as far as her bonds would allow and glimpsed a tall woman robed in white behind her. She had piercing dark eyes and hair, a most garish hue of red. Surely a color that couldn't occur naturally, Nim thought to herself. Even in her pain, she couldn't help but note the gaudiness of the woman. Her lips, rouged a dark red, were slightly parted. As if the woman was finding herself bored of the day's activities.
An asymmetrical neck tattoo adorned not just the side of her neck but wrapped around her throat and up to her ears as well. Nim knew witches in other lands were confined to near-slavery. Forced to sign contracts upon completion of their magical schooling, they were indebted to whoever held their contracts. The witches signed them as willingly as Nim was to follow the orders of a foreign monarch. She felt for the girl's plight, but in her mind, the priority remained in keeping the small nation, and her family that lived within it, safe.
Talmot had entered from the side door. His appearance returned to the graying soldier she had encountered so often before. Apparently, the need for a disguise mattered no longer. He dragged a stool to sit in front of the old woman, kicking her cane to the side. "As much as I despise the unnatural, I must say her abilities are impressive." A malicious grin curling around his lips.
When the bones had spilled out on the old wooden table this morning, she could never have anticipated her current position. She thanked God's Caroline was safe, well safer than she would be here with Nim under the current circumstances.
"You read the letter Cora, you know what I'm here for, you read the letter," he told her. Talmot had searched the farm by this point and came to the discovery that it was only her and the general's forces that remained. He wanted information from her. Nim wondered how long the niceties would last.
When Talmot realized she had no intention of conversing with him, he leaned forward and spoke, forcing her eyes to meet his own. "I've already sent the men to the town. They'll be arriving shortly to present orders from King Undair to surrender the lands and the witches. If they don't, a full army will be in Ovandale within the week to take them in a fashion that is less than diplomatic. Right now, we're going to recover what the King has requested with or without your help."
Nim swallowed, sweat beading at the nape of her neck soaking into the white blouse that was now dirt-stained and torn at the sleeve. Without her connection to the magic, to the earth, she had little bargaining power. Her best bet was to bend the truth.
"Caroline is gone. She's not here and won't be back. She is of no value to you or the King. She knows no magical ability." Nim told him, bowing her head in defeat.
"The crone is lying," Lorna said, kicking the chair leg jostling the woman into letting out a groan. "Stop trying to access the power. I can feel you pushing my barrier. It won't work."
Nim was trying, trying with all her might to reach for the well of energy that lived within her. She couldn't even feel the red woman's spell. The magic was so strong it had enveloped Nim completely, blocking her senses. The foreign witch must be an elemental, Nim thought. A witch connected to all four elements equally; earth, air, fire, and water. Rare and more potent than an average witch many times over. It was said some possessed ties to blood, forging a path to the human heart and all the secrets that lie therein.
"About which part?" Talmot asked, "the girl not being on the farm or her magical abilities."
"Hard to tell, she's mixing the truth with lies," Lorna said casually.
"Tsk, tsk, Cora. If you do not want to comply with the King's request, we will have to move to more drastic measures." Talmot let the threat hang heavy in the air. What more could they do to her? The other witch had already severed her from her magic, and Caroline was gone. Nim grimaced, feeling the absence of light within her.
"Your allegiance sways like branches in a storm, Talmot. I'd die before I help you." Nim spat at the ground before his feet. She knew he wouldn't kill her. She still had the answers that he wanted. She watched as the general nodded, taking in her words.
"My allegiance is to whoever supplies the coin Ms. Delvine, and right now, and for the unforeseeable future, the coin comes from Ibudal," Talmot explained, turning his head from her. "Bring in the boy!" he called in the direction of the barn door.
A bruised and bloodied Callum was led in by a soldier with sandy hair and nervous eyes. It was clear the young man had never seen more than a training field in his career. Nim noted the lad's eyes averting from Callum's bloodied nose and forehead. Callum was bound at the wrists in the same fashion as Nim. His deep brown eyes looked to her for an explanation. Rarely did the inhabitants of Ovandale experience violence.
Nim whispered a blessing to the gods for the boy. He had clearly put up a fight before being subdued by the Ibudali soldiers, but the same confused expression hovered on his face.
"Kill him," Talmot told Lorna. Nim watched as the witch moved forward toward the farmhand with one arm raised in the air. Her fingers thrust into the shape of a fist at an excruciatingly slow pace. Callum cried out in pain suddenly. Nim could only gasp in horror as the boy's joints at the elbows and knees began to bend at unnatural angles.
Nim's breath rose in steady increments, sweat pouring from her forehead. She pulled towards her magic again, knowing she would find nothing but darkness. She knew now that time and a head start was Caroline's best chance at survival. It was apparent now that Nim had learned to use her abilities much differently than white-robed witch from across the sea.
She relinquished her control over the girl's destiny. Nim had ensured her granddaughter's safety and security for many years at a cost she could not continue to pay. At this point, it was only a head start she gave her granddaughter, not an escape route. It would have to do. Caroline would have to fight for those liberties for herself now. Hopefully, Nim had given her enough tools to do so.
"Stop!" Nim called out over his screams. "I'll tell you where she is," she said, bowing her head, a single tear fell down her wrinkled cheek.