The Adventures of Valery Callaghan Part I: The Witch’s Quest

Valery Callaghan sat by the bar, watching the two customers sitting in the old inn where she worked. They were at one of the many tables by the window on the far wall near the grand, oak front entrance. She was also keeping a close eye on the clock, which hung on the wall to the left of the door. It was late, a quarter past 11, and she would be let off any minute. But as she stared, the wooden arms reached ever slowly to the faux gold painted 6, and the people at the table droned on and on. They cackled like banshees and drank like filthy buccaneers from giant beer mugs. Every once and a while, one would eye Valery with a dirty gaze, but none of them said a word to her. They knew that if they did, the innkeeper’s son would give them a good talking to; it wasn’t worth the trouble. 

The innkeeper’s son, Bryn, happened to be Valery’s best friend and the person she had to thank for the job. Most women in their village were housewives or prostitutes–but not her. Valery was a waitress of sorts. She took care of the inn residents, waited on their tables, changed their sheets, and did anything else that Bryn’s father needed to be done. Bryn’s dad was a fisherman, along with most of the men in their tiny lakeside town, and was often out on fishing trips while his family manned the inn. This included Bryn, his mom, and Valery. It was a lot of work, but Valery didn’t mind. She was grateful for the job, and she had her reasons for wanting it–especially since the mysterious disappearance of her parents. 

When Valery was only twelve years old, her mother and father wandered off into the woods and never came back. People in town said they had run away, leaving their responsibilities–meaning Valery–behind, but she knew it wasn’t true. She was sure that there was a perfectly good reason for their sudden disappearance, but since she had no way of leaving town, she had to work until she had enough money saved to find out why. 

The clock tolled at 11:30, and the cuckoo belted out its song–a cacophonic screeching. The clock was broken, but by the time the song finally stopped, the men still hadn’t budged from their table. 

Valery whistled and motioned for them to go, but they just shrugged her off. 

“Bah, woman, leave us be!” one of them said. 

Valery rolled her eyes. This wasn’t the first time. She went into the back room where she found Bryn gathering bottles for the bar. 

“Hey, uh, those two guys are here, and well…” 

“They’re giving you a hard time again?” Bryn asked. 

He stood up suddenly, the bottles still in his arms. His muscles flexed from the effort of holding them, and Valery looked away before she stared too long. 

“Yeah, they’re not leaving,” she confirmed. 

“I’ll take care of it,” Bryn assured her. 

His blue eyes flashed with confidence, but his clumsiness betrayed him, as a bottle toppled out of the crook of his elbow. He balanced it on his arm, but Valery caught it before it fell. 

“Here, let me help you,” she insisted. 

She took some of the bottles from him, and they both carried them up to the bar. They put them away, bent behind the long wooden table, and Valery had to contain the urge to blush as his hand brushed against hers. When they were done, Bryn marched up to the gentlemen at the table while Valery watched from the bar. They gave him no trouble–heading for the door as soon as they saw him. They knew better than to stick around. Bryn had somewhat of a reputation in the village, on account of his size, but Valery knew he was just a clumsy softy underneath. 

He walked the men to the door and saw them out. Valery was about to congratulate him on his swift work–mockingly of course–when Bryn froze and stared out into the night. 

“What’s wrong?” she asked. 

“It’s that woman again,” he answered. 

“You mean the witch?” she asked, somewhat sarcastically. 

“She’s not a witch… But, yes, that’s the one.” 

“What’s she doing?” 

“She’s… She’s coming,” Bryn answered, simply. 

Before they could say more, the woman appeared at the door–although Valery couldn’t see her face behind Bryn’s wide build. She was talking, but Valery couldn’t hear what she was saying.

“Yes, uh… Come in,” Bryn said. 

At this, the woman walked past him and into the inn. The woman was short but wore a long, burgundy cloak with a hood that shielded her eyes from view. 

“Do you have any rooms?” she asked. 

“Yes,” Bryn replied, “We have a few rooms available. How long will you be staying?” 

“Oh, not long,” the woman answered. “Do you have any tea by any chance? I could use a cup after such a long journey.” 

“Yes, yes, of course,” Bryn said. 

He ran toward the back to fetch the tea, but gave Valery a look before he left as if to say, Will you be ok?

Valery nodded, and the next thing she knew, she was alone with the old woman. 

“So… Where did you travel from?” she asked the woman. 

“Very far from here,” the woman answered, mysteriously. “But that’s not important. What’s important is not the ‘where’ but the ‘why.’ You should be asking why I have come.” 

Valery regarded the woman carefully. There was a story about her in the village. People said that she only came once every three years but that she always appeared the same. She stayed only ever stayed in the village for a month, but whenever she came, strange things happened.

“Alright, why?” Valery indulged her. 

“For you, my dear.” 

“Me?! What do you want with me?” Valery asked, surprised.

“I know about your parents’ disappearance,” the woman answered. “And I can help you find the one who took them.”

Valery’s eyes widened. “I knew it! I could feel them out there somewhere–like they were 

calling to me somehow!”

“Do you know them?” Valery asked.

“I do not, but I do know the spirit that took them,” the woman explained. “And I know how to stop him.”

“Let me guess, you want me to do it?” Valery surmised. 

“Yes, with this,” the woman said. She reached into her cloak and handed Valery a tiny, black-onyx stone. “This is a Spirit Stone. It can temporarily deter demon spirits by sending them back to the spirit world–where they belong.” 

Valery took the Stone. It was small–about an inch wide–and it was smooth and reflective like glass. She couldn’t deny that there was something strange about it as if it had some hidden power she could not see, but she swiftly came to her senses. 

Valery let out a long laugh. “You want me to use this against some fairytale, woodland demon? What do you think I am–a fool?!” 

Suddenly, the woman turned to face Valery head-on, and she could see the fury in the woman’s deep green eyes.

“Do not mock me, girl!” she warned. “This is not a joke. See for yourself.” 

The woman closed her wrinkled eyes and let out a low animal-like grumble as her hands began to glow with an eerie light. Then, the Stone began to float several inches above her palm. 

Valery shivered. “You are a witch!” she exclaimed. 

“Of sorts…” the woman admitted.

“If you’re a witch, then why do you need me?” Valery asked. “I’m not even a fighter.” 

“No, but you are a Callaghan, are you not?” 

“Yes, but -” 

“Then, you are the right person for the job–and that is all you need to know,” the witch insisted. 

Valery didn’t understand, but the witch continued before she could ask for more information. 

“Tomorrow, go on the bale cart at the edge of town. Then, follow the forest path to the mountains. Here, you will find your foe. But be warned, the demon spirit of the wood is a cunning charlatan. You will need your wit as much as your strength when you face him,” the witch explained. 

“But-” Valery started. 

“Now, go and get some rest. You have a long journey ahead of you,” the witch ordered. 

Valery realized that there was no reasoning with the woman, and she resigned to accept her fate–or at least she pretended to.

“How will I defeat this demon, when I find him?” she asked. 

“With the Spirit Stone,” the witch answered as if it was obvious. “Hold the Stone against the demon, and speak these words: ‘Ad Profundis, turpi spiritus!’” 

“What does that mean?” 

But before the witch could say more, Bryn returned with the tea. 

“No need, my boy. I’ll be off!” the witch exclaimed and left the inn without another word. 

Once she was gone, Bryn turned back to Valery with his hands on his hips. 

“What was that about?” he asked, clearly annoyed that he made the woman tea for nothing. 

Valery took a deep breath and filled him in. He listened intently, and he was silent for a while after she finished. 

“You… You’re not going through with it, right?” he asked. 

Valery frowned. Although she wasn’t one to meddle with magic, if it was necessary to find her parents, then she wasn’t sure just what she would be willing to do…

“I don’t know… I just need to think,” she said. “I need to sleep on it. Then, maybe everything will become clear.” 

Bryn nodded. “Alright. Go rest, but no matter what you decide, Val, I’ve got your back.” 

“Thanks, Bryn,” she smiled. 

After she and Bryn had said their goodnights, Valery went straight to her room. She lay in the dark, and a million questions–and a million more grim possibilities–flooded her mind like grains of sand in a storm from which there was no shelter. She was buried under the weight of the decision, trying to claw her way out through reasoning, but there was no definitive answer to guide her. She stared up at the shadows on the ceiling, cast by moonlight streaming through the window, searching in circles. But through all of the shifting worry in her mind, there was a surprising quietness in her heart. Although she didn’t fully understand the witch’s words, Valery had a strange feeling that she would know what to do–what had to be done for her parent’s sake and for her own sanity.  

By the time morning came, Valery had made up her mind. She rose early, ate breakfast, and waited for Bryn in the main dining room. They usually woke up around the same time and prepared the inn together, but she hadn’t slept that night and was out of bed ahead of time. She meant to leave before he woke up, but he appeared only five minutes after her–as if he had some strange intuition about her plans.

He seemed to know her intent as soon as he saw her at the bar with all of the morning chores done. 

“You’re going,” he inferred, “And I’m coming with you!”

“I wish you could, but who will help your mother with the inn if you’re gone?” Valery asked. 

“I don’t care! She’ll manage. It’ll only be for a few days… Most likely, and besides, this is more important!” 

“No, you’re needed here. And what would I tell your mother if you got hurt?” she reasoned. 

“You can’t talk me out of this! I’m coming, and that’s-” 

Before Bryn could finish his statement, the first customers came in: early risers looking for breakfast.

“Good morning! If you’d please give me a moment, I’ll seat you,” Bryn said to them, and then to Valery, “Stay put.” 

While Bryn was serving the customers, Valery slipped out the back entrance and onto the pony-drawn, bale cart. It was making its morning run to the tended fields just outside the village, and she made it right on time. She jumped into the back and sat amongst the hay as the cart began to move. 

Valery looked out to the rising sun over her home and saw that all of the houses were painted orange and pink in the light. She would miss it dearly, but she did not regret her decision. She turned away to face the front of the cart where a long dirt road stretched out for miles. She gripped the Spirit Stone tightly and vowed to face whatever monsters lay ahead.

To be continued…