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whitehathexerswriting · 3 months ago

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White Hat Hexers Part 1: Battle at the Ball

Written by: @nighttimedaydreams and edited by: Anastasia M. ( @fighterpilotdragon02 / https://www.instagram.com/fighterpilotdragon/ ) tw: transphobia, homophobia, deadnaming

Elizabeth woke to knocking on her door. She sighed and pushed some raven strands, which had fallen out of her braid and into her eyes, behind her ears. It was midnight, but she was the village’s cursebreaker. Technically, she was a hexer, but she had only ever cursed one person: herself. As mismatched as her skillset and job title were, however, she had the knowledge she needed to keep the village safe. She slipped on a flowy black dress streaked with white – the uniform of a cursebreaker woman. She twirled in it; even after all this time, she loved how it flared. It was no longer at all new to her, but she kept her dress so that it looked fresh to anyone else. She slipped into and laced up her boots very tight. They were slightly too big for her; they were a gift from long ago, but shoes weren’t easy to replace in the village, and she didn’t want to go far for something she only wore when going out. She much preferred walking barefoot, but now wasn’t the time for frivolity. Someone was knocking at midnight. She stood up and stuck her hands in her dress’s pockets; other cursebreakers kept their supplies there, but she didn’t have to use them for that, although she did keep the willow bark there. She opened up the door, and standing there was Edward, the younger of Jacob’s two sons. Jacob was the village leader and a retired knight. Edward was dressed hastily, with loose sleeping clothes, his hair clearly windswept by his speed, but he still wore a ring with the emblem of his house: a spider riding a boar. His heavy breathing filled the night, overcoming the sound of owls and other nocturnal creatures that lived near the forest behind Elizabeth’s house.

“Elizabeth, come quick,” he panted, turning as if to head back into the village.

“What’s going on?” Elizabeth asked.

“It’s my brother. He was out hunting in the woods, and now he’s slowly turning into a toad.”

“A toad? You are certain it is a toad and not a frog.”

“NO! Of course I’m not certain about that, you’re the cursebreaker.”

“I need to know which curse I’m breaking. I suppose I’ll learn soon enough when I see him. I presume he is at your home?”

“Yes. He just got back from his trip.” “This late?”

“He was held up by being cursed.”

“Right, right.”

Elizabeth knew Edward’s brother, of course. Henry came to her once of his own accord when he was thirteen. She was barely his senior at sixteen back then, but she knew he was under no curse – he simply liked other men. They had maintained touch ever since. She knew the other women in the village swooned over his grey eyes and wavy hair, but she didn’t see it as anything stand-out.

They reached the house. Jacob was waiting outside.

“Edward, I thought I said everything was fine, why did you go get that,” Jacob said.

Elizabeth gripped the inside of her dress pockets tightly. Now wasn’t the time to cause a scene. “Father, with all due respect, my brother clearly has a curse on him. You must know time is of the essence.” “It’s simply a fever. It will pass. Edward, send it away.”

“Father, you know that is a lie.”

Elizabeth knew better than either of them how important time was. She barged into the house. Let the family squabble outside. Jacob raised a hand to stop her, but Edward swatted it down. She saw out of the corner of her eye that Jacob followed her.

Today was not like the day her and Henry first met. The moment she laid eyes on him, she could tell he had a curse placed on him; she felt its magic pulsing. Soft, weak, barely there – a simple curse. Good and non-infectious, although she herself didn’t worry too much about that.

There were a handful of servants milling out about the room nervously moving around Henry.

“Everyone out,” Elizabeth said.

The servants left; Jacob stayed.

“You too, sir.”

He glared at her, but chose to do nothing more, slamming the door to Henry’s room as he left. She let go of a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

“Henry, can you hear me?”

He nodded.

Good, good, he’s not gone mentally yet, Elizabeth thought to herself, gathering the willow bark into her hands. “Chew this,” she said, putting it in his mouth.

Henry did as ordered.

This next part is always the worst for the patient, Elizabeth thought to herself. She began chanting. Simple sounds – it didn’t actually matter the sounds she made, per se. All that mattered is she drew magic tight around her. All the strings of magic became visible to her. The level of reality beneath the surface looked like linen threads on a loom, though to the untrained eye it only looked like lines. To Elizabeth, each string connected to each other, like the way sinew connects to bone: every part interconnected, yet distinct. Elizabeth remember reading in her studies that there were those who claimed to be able to see the future from the strings. Hexers always were boastful and cursebreakers tried to avoid dealing with the threads unnecessarily, so Elizabeth never believed in such things, and dismissed the distracting thought. She could clearly see the strings that made up Henry. Every piece of his thoughts and memories, every piece of his body all connected: all things became only magic to her.

There! she thought to herself as she spotted the string of the curse. The aberrant thread formed a breach in the pattern, its jagged lines a clean break from the smooth consistent threads that made up Henry. Where the other lines looked like linen and connected like sinew, this one seemed woolen and looked like it was connected by a shoddy sewing job. Even the curse she had placed upon herself was better weaved into her. She grabbed it and wound it around her hand, absorbing it into her and using it to add to the reserves of magic that made up her own curse, reinforce it, make it unbreakable. Elizabeth knew she no longer needed to worry about her magic ever running out on her, but it never hurt to be sure.

“Heat from fire, fire from heat,” she said, ending her chant. She watched Henry rapidly and painfully return to his original form. He screamed.

Jacob barged in.

“Peter! What did you do?”

“My name is Elizabeth. And I saved your son’s life,” Elizabeth said, turning on her heels. She stormed out from Jacob’s house.

Bastard. I save his son’s life, and that’s what he says to me? Elizabeth seethed. A fleeting memory appeared in her head in her hexer teacher’s voice, the first rule she heard when she learned magic: Those with power do whatever they please.

It would be simple for her to turn him into a toad. That would neatly take care of the problem.

No, no, I’m not like that; the first duty of a cursebreaker is to do no harm, Elizabeth reminded herself.

She began to chant to herself. “Heat from fire, fire from heat, heat from fire, fire from heat…” Soothing words; there’s a reason she ends cursebreaking with them. Her feet moved in time with her speech. She heard other footsteps. She kept walking. Henry appeared in front of her.

“Hey, Re,” she said tersely to him.

“Elizabeth, I’m sorry for my father’s behavior.”

“I’m sure you are,” She took a breath and looked at Henry. He had come out here so quickly after she left; she clenched her fists in her pockets a couple of times. “You really shouldn’t be moving around so much right now. I apologize for my tone earlier; I was being rude to you. You’re not your dad.”

“He has given you offense, and the hour is late. You have offended me none.”

“Drop the formalities, Re.”

“Oh thank magic. You know I hate talking like that, Liz.”

Elizabeth laughed, “You really do.”

“Well, while I have you here, there’s a ball coming up soon in the Lord’s manor.”

Elizabeth had gotten a letter about that; as a cursebreaker she was invited as a matter of etiquette, not of desire.

“You know I don’t do parties, Re.”

“Please make an exception, just this once.”

“Why? Are you asking me to attend with you?”

“Magic forefend! No! Not like that at least, but there is a man I want you to meet.”

“Ah, so you’re setting me up. You know I have no interest in marriage either.” She doesn’t say the quiet part, that she could care about marriage if it was between her and someone like her. Those people don’t exist. Even other cursebreakers considered her an outsider.

Henry laughed. “No, no,” he said, waving his hand dismissively. “I know you’re a spinster through and through. No, I want you to meet the man I’ve been seeing.”

Oh. Oh! Elizabeth thought to herself. “Oh that’s amazing, Re! … Does Jacob know?”

“No.”

“My lips are sealed. Cursebreaker-patient confidentiality.”

“You invoke that right a lot.”

“This village has a lot of secrets. I keep them.”

Henry nods solemnly. “So, will you come?”

“I suppose I can fit time in my busy schedule.”

“You work on a summons basis!”

“Speaking of which, you will need to contact the Curse Corps; they deal with the hexers after all.”

“Right, right. I was with him tonight, you know.”

“The hexer?!” Elizabeth grinned.

“Magic, no!” Henry laughed out loud, “Me and Thomas, the man I’m courting, but we were seen and… you don’t think he was cursed too, was he?!”

“He may be. Where does he live?”

“About a half day’s ride north.”

“Mina watches over that region. She’s a good cursebreaker. He’s probably fine. It was a simple curse.”

Henry calmed down at that. “Good, good.”

Elizabeth yawned and stretched, the interrupted sleep finally getting to her. “Well, as you said, it’s late.” As much as she liked talking to Henry, she knew the two of them rarely let a conversation end, and she was still tired. “I already have an invite to the party, so I’ll be there and meet with Thomas. But right now, I’m going to meet my bed.”

Henry laughed, “It is late, I’ll give you that. I’ll see you there.”

He turned and left. Elizabeth walked into her house, changed out of her uniform and into a simple nightgown, and fell onto her bed and to sleep.

***

The party was upon them. Elizabeth was wearing her uniform; it was the fanciest outfit she had. She really should start charging more for her service, but she knew not everyone could pay. Maybe she should seek a proper patronage, perhaps once Henry took over his house. She shrugged at her thoughts. She watched couples dancing while she sat alone eating cake at her candlelit table. Her eyes wandered to the flame of the candle; she did always like the sound the flickering flames made. It was different from the crackling of wood, a sound unto itself. The only other thing that compared was the sound grass made blowing in the wind. Although, no one ever seemed to talk about the beauty of either. Her leg was bouncing from her boredom, but the cake was strikingly good. She needed to find out the recipe. Henry approached her with a man who stood a head taller than her in tow. The newcomer’s arms had the look of an archer’s.

“Elizabeth, this is Sir Thomas. Thomas, this is Cursebreaker Elizabeth,” Henry said.

“Well met, Cursebreaker Elizabeth,” Thomas said.

“Please, Elizabeth is fine. No need for formalities, Thomas. We’re among friends,” Henry said.

“Are you quite certain?” Thomas asked, his face scrunched.

Elizabeth takes another bite of cake. “Yea.”

“Then, I must say, Henry has told me much about you.”

“Oh?”

“He speaks to your kindness, your charity, and your calm demeanor.”

She laughed, waving her hand dismissively. “He speaks half truths. But he has told me little of you, so who are you?”

“I am the firstborn son of Sir Matthew of Huntersford and Lady Mary of Riverside. Heir to both fortunes, excelled in my studies, bested three tourneys held by our host.”

“Boastful.”

“I-” He stopped at that, jaw going slightly slack. “I suppose I am.”

“He’s really not that bad, he’s swee-” Henry started before he abruptly cut off with a choking sound, and suddenly Thomas started choking too. It rippled out from there. Elizabeth stood up. She felt the magic smothering the room. A curse. She looked around the room.

No, several curses woven together, she thought to herself, feeling the magic that smothered her. An asphyxiation curse, a transformation curse, and a memory rewrite curse, all woven together? How? That shouldn’t work, and for what reason? Who would attack here?

Elizabeth shook herself. She had to solve this. She started drumming her fingers on the table, trying to think this through. She started moving; it helped her think. Walking by the people that had fallen into an unconscious daze, she saw in the crowd of downed dancers many faces of cursebreakers she knew. Her mind began listing them as she noticed each face.

Mina, Alexander, Paul, Mary – did all of this region’s cursebreakers come? Was that normal? Elizabeth shook her head to dismiss the thoughts.

She looked up, and she saw a man about her age standing up. He wore a black and white suit – the outfit of a cursebreaker man. He was looking around in just as much shock as her.

Is he the hexer? She thought to herself. She started to approach him. Softly, she began the vocables of magic. The sounds kept getting caught in her throat, the wall of magic in the room overriding her attempts to bring magic to her. She was near enough now to hear him chanting the same. His voice was a pleasant baritone; in another life, she imagined he could be a singer.

He saw her out of the corner of his eye and turned to her. “Is this magic smothering you too?” he asked; she could now see the strain in his face. How hard had he been trying to push his magic?

“Yes. I can feel the curse, but I can’t reach the weave.”

“Then we’re in the same boat. I’m Michael. I must admit to being anewcursebreaker, justpassedtheexamlastwe-”

“Elizabeth. Now breathe. I’ve been at this for about a decade now. Although I’ll say I’ve never seen anything like this before. Multi-curses are incredibly rare,” she said. And why weren’t you affected? Just who are you?

Michael took a breath. “What do we do?” His hands were shaking.

“Our job. We don’t have long, either; this curse is powerful, so it won’t take long before it will become truly irreversible. Panic will just make us sloppy. Focus, what are the facts we know?”

“Right, right, focus, I can focus,” Michael said, his hands still shaking. “A powerful curse has been placed upon the castle; we don’t know why.” His hands kept shaking. “It smothers our magic, and, for some reason, us two have not been affected by it.”

“Not entirely accurate, but good enough. Keep your mind on what you know,” Elizabeth said. Drumming her fingers on the side of her dress, she hurried to reach the next room. Her dress billowed backwards and fluttered behind her with the speed of her movement. I need to know if it’s the whole castle, but the amount of magic here, it almost rivals what I’ve taken in over the years.

Michael hurried behind her. “Wha-what are you doing?”

“Checking the manor; we just know the ballroom is cursed, not the rest,” Elizabeth said, crossing the threshold of the next room, where she got hit by the wall of magic even more intensely than where she came from, and was forced back into the ballroom. “Huh. Cursed room, too.”

“What’s theplan?”

Elizabeth looked around the room; her eyes settled on the other unconscious cursebreakers. “Got any rosemary?”

“What? Ah, y-yes.”

“Excellent, get all their rosemary too.” Elizabeth looked at the candles lighting the tables. They are not ritually made, but it should work. Rituality is just a guide after all. She began to gather up the candles, carefully trying to not extinguish their flames.

One to the north for the winds which guide ships, one to the east for the sunrise which brings the dawn, one to the south for the stars which guide sailors, one to the west for the sunset which brings the dusk, and one for the center which returnbrings one back to the self, Elizabeth thinks to herself, remembering where to put the candles for the ritual. It had been a long time since she did any true cursebreaking with proper technique instead of just ripping the magic out to feed her own. Michael approached her; his hands were shaking still.

“I’ve got the rosemary you wanted.”

“Thank you.”

She began the vocables of magic once more. The smoke from the rosemary began to take the shape of the weave, but it began to dissipate.

No! No!

Then Michael’s baritone voice joined in. The two of them together forced the weave to take shape.

Elizabeth saw where the aberrations in the weave were around the room. They were sloppy connections like the curse on Henry earlier. This wasn’t the work of a practiced hand, but someone working unsure of the weave’s pattern.

How did they get so much power if they are this sloppy? It almost feels… borrowed. In the same way using a quill that isn’t yours does. Elizabeth thought to herself. She noticed Michael in the weave.

Michael himself was covered in sewn lines. It wasn’t a shoddy job; it was a lot like hers, as if they had been taught to sew the weave by the same person. If she wasn’t intimately familiar with what she was looking at, she may not have noticed, but his were fainter than hers. They had not had as much time to set or absorb power.

Is he like me? Similar at least? If he is, are there yet more; am I not alone? No, no time to think about that. Just don’t touch him. Focus. The room is ours, Elizabeth thought to herself. She grabbed hold of line after line; she pulled on it, acting like a seam ripper, and spooled the loose magic around her. It was hers to have, hers to keep; she grabbed what should’ve been the last thread, but it grabbed her.

A voice pounded in her head. CURSEBREAKER, YOU SHOULD NOT HAVE INTERFERED. NOW YOUR MAGIC IS MINE.

Elizabeth felt herself unraveling. Memories flashed by. She felt like she was burning. She had felt this once before, when she had reshaped herself.

She knew this could only end one way. No. No! I won’t let it end like this.

YOU HAVE NO CHOICE. NO CHANCE. ALONE IS HOW YOU DIE.

She pulled back on the magic trying to hold herself together.

“She’s not alone!” Michael said, his voice cutting through the pain. She felt his hands helping hers guide the magic back to her. They were still shaking. But they were enough. She began braiding the weave of magic together.

WHAT! BUT HOW?!

“Because we’re cursebreakers, hexer bastard!” Elizabeth screamed out, grabbing tight onto all the threads of braided magic, and her and Michael tore them from the hexer. The pair pulled the magic into them and collapsed.

“We won!” Michael cheered out in an airless laugh, a bright smile on his face as he lay on the ground, collapsed. The other party goers, breathing hard as if they had just ran a marathon, began to get up. Elizabeth stayed supine upon the ground and was trying to get control of her limbs again; they felt wooden. There was a static buzzing about her ears. It sounded like the flickering of the candles, but just ever so off, and it was so much more annoying. Measured footsteps came from the hallway outside the ballroom echoing in.

“I wouldn’t rest on your laurels just yet. What a pain in the neck,” a man’s voice said. Elizabeth recognized it: it was the same as in the weave, and now, without the pounding of magic, she recognized it even more. It was Jacob’s.

Elizabeth got up onto one knee. She lifted her chin and looked up at the hexer.

“Jacob?” Elizabeth asked, shocked.

“Yes, I had hoped to deal with my worthless son here. Although I will also be glad to be rid of you.” He spat out the last word. He lifted his hand and began chanting.

“Father?! What are you doing?” Henry cried out, his voice cutting through the noise. He looked shocked and appalled.

Jacob started laughing. “My fool of a son. I know whom you love; who do you think cursed you and Thomas that night? Your brother just had to get that involved. But, at least he’ll take a wife.”

Elizabeth seized this moment of distraction; grabbing the raw weave, she chanted fast, “Heat from fire, fire from heat,” and she bound him with the threads of the weave. His arms were constricted to his sides, and his gagged voice fell silently. He started choking.

“Liz!” Henry shouted.

“What? He was a threat. Give me a knife. I can end this quickly.”

“You are not an executioner, Elizabeth; he shall stand trial. He is, unfortunately, a noble. To kill him without due process is a serious offense,” Henry said, spitting in the direction of his father.

Elizabeth looked at Jacob, his face turning pale. Rage was building inside her. Her feet tapped the floor hard until she started making her way towards him. Henry and Thomas both grabbed her shoulders.

“Cursebreaker Elizabeth, please,” Thomas pleaded. She shook them off. Michael had gotten in front of her.

“Elizabeth, what is the first rule?” Michael asked, his arms trembling.

She remembered the first rule she was taught when she learned magic. “Those with power do what they please.”

There was a flash of recognition on Michael’s face. It was clear to Elizabeth that he was taught in the same manner as her. “Not the first r-rule of m-magic, the first rule of c-cursebreaking.”

Her shoulders slumped. “To do… no harm.” She loosed the grip of the weave around the man’s throat, but tightened the magic gagging him. She really didn’t want to hear him talk right now.

She turned her back to Michael, her dress flaring out as she did, and sat back down at her table. Henry, Thomas, and Michael joined her at her table. Her feet were still tapping the floor. The other people in the room looked at Elizabeth in fear of her, and they gave the table a wide berth. The mood had been quite soured. Elizabeth didn’t care. She felt incredibly exhausted. She ate some more of her cake.

#short story #original writing #creative writing #writers on tumblr #transgender author #transgender main character #character tags:#Cursebreaker Elizabeth #Cursebreaker Michael #Henry of the Spider-Boar #Edward of the Spider-Boar #Jacob of the Spider-Boar #White Hat Hexers

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