InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Of Might and Magic ❯ Prologue ( Prologue )

High above the Eastern lands, Emilia flew determinedly through the buffeting winds, breathing deep the scents they carried towards her.

“Isn’t it lovely,” she commented to Astaroth, her cat familiar, “that each land we visit has a slightly different scent? I’m getting trees and grasses and lotus flowers. What about you?”

Astaroth, who was perched precariously on the tail of her broom, as all good familiars should, merely shook his furry head.

“It is not the scents of plants and flowers that concern me,” he responded, and his amber eyes scanned the vista warily. “I have been warned by many that this land is riddled with demons. We would do well not to draw attention to ourselves.”

“But you are a demon, Astaroth,” Emilia reminded him, with a wry smile. “I have yet to find myself under threat from you.”

“These demons are not like those that roam our land,” the familiar responded, a hint of impatience betrayed in his usually steady voice. “They are powerful, independent creatures; wilful and dangerous. They recognise no master and serve only their own volition. If we could avoid them, it would be for the best.”

“Oh, nonsense, Astaroth,” said Emilia, hastily. “I am perfectly capable of defending myself.”

Astaroth made no retort, though the young witch could almost hear the sarcastic response that had surely formed in the familiar’s mind. She saw no cause for his cynicism; they had been travelling together for months and sustained little more than scratches and blistered feet. In fact, Emilia was quite proud of her achievements. It had angered her when her brothers had scoffed at her plans to travel, telling her that weak women had no cause to go adventuring. When her father had outright forbidden her to go without a chaperone, she’d decided enough was enough and that she would prove them wrong once and for all. So, in the dead of night, she had packed up her supplies and her broom and left the family home, with only her faithful familiar for company. Thus far, she had done well by herself. Bring on the demons, she thought darkly. I shall show them what this mere woman is made of.

She flew on in resolved silence, steering her broom away from the coastline. A little further inland and should begin looking for a suitable landing spot.

“What land is this, Astaroth?” she called to her familiar, over the rush of the swelling winds.

“It has many names,” the cat responded. “But you will see it labelled on our maps as Japan.”

Japan. Emilia smiled to herself – it was a fine name, for what she hoped would be a fine country. She wondered what the people might be like, how their dwellings might look, whether the magical community here was concealed, like her own, or out in the open for all to see, as she had discovered in some of the other lands she had encountered. She pondered what these foreign witches and wizards might be able to teach her – how it would put her father in his place to return with new and unprecedented skills that would baffle her English brethren! Her mind trailed off into daydreams, thoughts of humiliating her misogynistic family with an impressive display of jinxes, when a shout from behind brought her back to her senses.

“Do you see that?” Astaroth cried, a note of urgency to his voice. Steeling herself, Emilia scanned the skies around them. A little way to her left, she caught sight of a black bird flapping amidst the clouds.

“The bird?” she wondered, confused by the panic in her familiar’s voice. “What of it? It’s just a bird.”

“Look again!” the cat commanded shrilly. Frowning, Emilia did as he asked. To her surprise, the black bird was considerably bigger than it had been a moment ago ... and it was getting bigger by the second as it flew right towards them.

“Oh!”she cried, feeling at once both foolish and alarmed. “That’s not a bird, is it?”

“No, it most certainly is not!” Astaroth exclaimed. “Now, might I suggest we mo-”

But it was too late – the monstrous creature was already upon them, swooping out of the sky like a feathery spectre. It was the most horrible looking bird Emilia had ever seen, with great red eyes, a cruel, serrated beak and oily black plumage, almost like tar. It was enormous too, bigger by far Emilia, with talons the size of cartwheels. Emilia gave a shout of fright as it plummeted towards them, claws outstretched, clearly anticipating her as its next meal. The witch narrowly avoided its talons with a deft manoeuvre of her broom and the ghastly creature bumbled off past her, screeching.

“It’s coming back,” warned Astaroth. “Do something!”

Emilia had not needed her familiar’s warning; she had seen the bird realize its error and turn around, ready for a second attempt at the hunt. This time, though, Emilia was ready. As it plunged towards her, ready to strike, Emilia raised her hand and propelled a single ball of angry red flames right at the creature’s chest. Her aim struck true and at once the oily looking feathers ignited, the fire billowing with an alarming ferocity. The bird demon gave a pitiful screech and began to flail its wings madly. Emilia had not accounted for this eventuality and she had to swerve her broom quite suddenly to escape the floundering monster. However, her reaction came just a moment too late and before she was quite out if its reach, the demon brought a burning limb crashing down at her and Astaroth. Emilia felt her body collide with the wing, felt the heat of its flaming plumage as it knocked her clean from her broom. There was a moment when she seemed to float in midair, inches away from the burning bird. Then, to her horror, she found herself plummeting unaided towards the ground below. Trees, grass and rocks loomed into her vision, growing larger and larger. Emilia screamed and threw her hands over her face, though to what end she did not know. She tried her utmost to visualise something soft and non-threatening to break her fall, but the image of her skull being dashed on the rocks below was quite a persistent one. Resignedly, she braced herself, expecting pain at any moment ... but it did not come. Instead she landed with a gentle rustle into something crisp and yet soft and opened her eyes with surprise. It was an enormous pile of leaves. Emilia blinked and gave a high, nervous laugh. As her hands patted down her body, checking for any notable injuries, she heard a yowl and another soft thud as Astaroth landed in the drift next to her. There was a crisp crackling then, less that a metre away, a furry grey head emerged from the leaves. Emila could not help but giggle.

“Leaves,” Astaroth groaned, as he spat bits of detritus out of his feline mouth. “Could you not have conjured pillows?”

“You’re lucky I conjured anything at all,” Emilia smiled, and she picked a bit of maple leaf out of his fur. “That was rather a close call!”

She scooped up her familiar into her arms and began to wade out of the drift. The moment her feet met the grassy floor, the leaves vanished and Emilia offered up a silent prayer of thanks to the blessing that was instinctive magic. She set the disgruntled Astaroth down at her feet and took a moment to drink in their surroundings. They were clearly in some patch of heavy woodland and were quite lucky to have missed the trees on their way down. Casting her eyes upward, she noted with relief that the bird demon had gone, though the air still carried the lingering scent of burning plumage.

“Are you alright?” asked Astaroth, leaping up onto a tree stump to get a better look at her.

“I’m fine,” Emilia murmured, still scanning their environs. “I’m not even singed. A couple of bruises perhaps but that is nothing really.”

Her gaze fell upon a velvet bag at the foot of a nearby tree – the pack that contained her belongings. Relieved it had not been lost, she seized it and, brushing the splintered wood off it, slung it over her shoulder.

“Ow!” she cried, and she glanced down to see a tiny splinter of golden wood buried in her palm.

“Everything okay?” Astaroth questioned from his sphinx-like perch on the tree stump.

“Yes,” Emilia sighed. “Just a splinter.” She seized the little sliver of wood with her thumb and forefinger and plucked it out of her skin. The tiny wound healed at once and Emilia was just about to toss the offending object over her shoulder when something caught her attention. The splinter was bright and clean, as though from fresh wood. Yet neither she nor Astaroth had hit any trees on their way down and her pack was not nearly heavy enough to damage these sturdy evergreens. With a jolt of horror, Emilia realised where the splintered wood must have come from. She glanced up and there is was: the shattered remains of her faithful broom, tangled around a lower bough of the tree.

“Oh,” she whispered, as disappointment washed over her like an icy wave. She stood on her tiptoes and retrieved the mangled shards of wood from the boughs of their conqueror.

“Oh dear,” Astaroth murmured with a note of sadness, as she lay the remains gently on the floor like a fallen comrade.

“It’s okay,” croaked Emilia, even as hot tears began to prick the corners of her eyes. “I can fix it.”

“Emilia,” the familiar whispered, and the kindness in his voice made her want to sob. “My dear girl, you cannot fix that broom. Not even a skilled broomsmith could fix it.”

“Then we shall buy another!” replied Emilia crossly, though whom she was cross with she had no idea.

“We have no other option,” said Astaroth, patiently. “Though it may take us some time to locate a broomsmith in this land. In fact, you may have to accept they may not even use brooms here.”

“Then we shall find some other mode of transport,” the young witch sighed, wiping the angry tears from her eyes. “We’ll just have to make do.”

“Indeed,” Astaroth nodded, and he performed the closest imitation of a smile that his tiny cat body would allow. “So, where to?”

Heavily, Emilia got to her feet and glanced around the clearing. There gaps and potential pathways everywhere. Which way she was meant to go, she had no idea, though she knew it would be a good idea to find a settlement first of all. Her eyes were drawn upwards and she spotted the ghostly orb of the moon, pale and ephemeral against the sunlit sky.

“Let’s follow the moon,” she suggested, softly. “I have a good feeling about the moon.”

“As you wish,” Astaroth conceded, and he sprang down to trot obediently at Emilia’s ankles as she guided them into the trees.