—    synopsis:

AHC is a serialized contemporary-ish adult fantasy following a depressed, aimless twentysomething named Theo. He’s chosen to become the wizard Mara’s apprentice, but ends up working as her errand boy instead. In order to actually learn magic, Theo will have to pay close attention to those around him—and in the process, he uncovers some questionable rumors about Mara’s past, and begins a secretive relationship with her rival’s protégé, Felix.

The story has some fantasy slice-of-life vibes, following Theo through his day to day as he tries to adjust to the world of magic and figure out how to become a wizard himself—but there are some creepy mysteries lurking at the edges and a very cute queer romance to keep things compelling!

—   how to read it:

AHC is currently updated Tuesdays on Patreon, starting at the $2 tier, and Fridays on Kindle Vella and Laterpress, charged by the chapter. (The first three chapters are free on Vella & new users get 200-500 free tokens, so you can read most of the first arc for free if you haven’t checked out the platform yet!)

Kindle Vella: New episodes every Friday! 1 - 3 are free; subsequent chapters vary with word count. I’d guess $0.25 - 30 per weekly chapter (of which I get 50%)

Patreon: New episodes every Wednesday, beginning in August - currently M/W/F as I catch up to Vella. Starts at $2/mo, but we charge on the 1st, so you could sign up now & read through ep5 before being charged on 8/1. (For now, I get all of this minus Patreon fees - in the future, Fell & I will split it.)

Wanted Adventurers – This Land Called Betrayal

Temperance narrowed her gaze, her blade still at the ready. The Bridge Troll wielded a club that was twice as wide as Temperance, armor included, and looked like a fast way to answer the unspoken question of what could knock an entire dimension worth of depth out of a knight in plate armor. “Let’s start with the simple questions and work our way up to more complicated things, please,” Monty…

It was deep winter, the snow heavy and thick on the ground, trees frosted in ice after a week of snow and cold rain. There was no sound in the woods, as if they were too tired to even breathe, like life was sitting back into a pile of furs before a fire, too tired to move. The shelter was covered in snow, its opening slight, unmoving, the single small point sticking out of it, barely visible.

There was a sudden crack and a ground creature of sorts, a rabbit, Alla thought, cut across her vision in the white, and she ignored it as it skittered across the snow and left light prints, waiting, still silent, still quiet. She’d been in the little shelter between two trees for two days, waiting for him, and finally, he came.

The black wolf came into the clearing ahead of her, in a crash of snow-covered brambles and the dust of it all scattering, and she knew he was frustrated. The rabbit was long-gone, his makeshift pack probably also gone, and he was mean, lean with winter starvation...and had taken Sten badly in the leg as he was helping to fell a tree at the edge of the woods two weeks ago. He was laid up, feeling bad about it, and Alla and Quinn felt that a nice black pelt-trimmed cloak would be the perfect way to make the old soldier feel better.

The black was paused now in the clearing and pacing, frustrated, sniffing. She knew he smelled her but couldn’t see her, and softly, Alla pulled back on the bowstring inside her little shelter, as the wolf turned right in her sight and stared into the dark of the shelter…

Quinn was supervising some of the woodsmen digging a path through the snowbanks to the entrances in the wall and to the tower, white cold and wet packed like earthen breastwork. She turned to see Alla coming out of the treeline, swathed in furs, bow and quiver across her back...dragging something on a rude sled of branches behind her, black and furry. The hunter waved, and Quinn waved back. “Got ‘im?” she barked, grinning and reaching into her tunic to take the small flask out, passing it to the other woman. “Thanks,” Alla said, taking a swig, “Needed that, he took his sweet time coming out,” she said, motioning over her shoulder.

“Thinner’n a wet sick shit,” Quinn said, prodding the wolf’s carcass with a snow-caked boot. “Quick enough to get Sten, though,” Alla retorted, dragging it along towards the stone tower. She was living in the small hut most of the time made homey with blankets and bits of furniture she’d traded fresh hunts for with the woodsmen, staying in the barracks with Quinn when it got too cold though even for the roaring fire she’d get going in the hearth. Also, the skinning and butchering racks were too unwieldy to have anywhere but the big courtyard. The two women continued to talk as they walked towards the winter bustle of people and life, and from the tower’s doorway, the yeoman Lin waved, “Got him, I see!”

“Welcome home,” Quinn said cheerily, passing Alla the flask again.

Home, Alla thought. She was home.

-

The trees broke into a slow slope towards a lake, woods and what she realized were the Worldwall Mountain range in the distance. Tree stumps were scattered along the edge of the woods and she realized they were clearing the land. By the late was a wooden palisade, the thick trunks lashed together. What drew her attention though as the old man took of his cap and sighed, taking in the sight, and the woman patted Alla on the back and smiled was the stone tower. “How long has this been here?” she said, blurting it out, feeling like a backwoods rube for the first time. It was huge, she felt, looking up at it. Old, but huge, the top part open where the stones had collapsed, but still taller than any building than she’d ever seen. It even came above the nearby trees. “Can you see far from the top?” she turned to Quick, who grinned. “Oh, far enough. Used to be higher, I hear, ‘til it collapsed, or caught fire.”

“Lightnin’, I heard,” Simple said, tucking his cap into his belt as the three walked toward a building build up against the wooden wall, a long building that looked like Milo’s longhall. The door to it opened and a man strode out in a tunic over a shiny metal shirt, mail rings, a sword and dagger on his belt too, and Alla realized this must be the lord. She stuttered as he shook hands with Quick and Simple, bowing. “M-m’lord,” she said, not looking up.

“Hunter we met, lookin’ for work. She’s from Bear’s Son, you can believe it,” Simple said, and the lord laughed. “Look up, girl, I’m just the yeoman, I don’t know why these two told you I was a lord,” he said. “Name’s Lin, though most have called me Ironmouth, since I did a lot of talkin’ with this,” he smiled broadly. “Welcome to Deepvalley.” Quick leaned into his ear, speaking softly, and he nodded. “So, you a hunter? We could use one honestly, come on,” he said. “Sten and Quinn said they saw your smoke a day ago, wanted to see who was out there,” the man continued, Alla and the woman, Quinn she assumed, followed him towards the stone tower. “Won this, y’might say, for fighting for the lord of Old Stump.

“Got a smith, couple of farmer families willing to take a chance, a dozen guards, and a healer, but mostly woodsmen and their families. Last lordling who tried to settle here had the dock set up for fishing, which is...something, I guess,” Lin said, as they all sat at a round table in the tower’s first floor. The walls were rough gray stone, a few rotten tapestries hanging, torches shoved into crude sconces and a fire pit smoldering. “Not much, but I’m trying to make something here, so m’lord telling me to start and run a lumber camp here, well, figured it’s a good way to make a claim for myself in the world, if you know what I mean.” The older soldier appeared as the yeoman poured wine, Sten leaning down with a sheaf of papers. “Piss...excuse me,” he said, immediately getting back up to stride back outside, Alla alone now with Quinn. “He’s not bad, just busy,” she said, sipping her wine, feet up on another chair. “This place was a dump when we got here. First thing we did was build the wall and then that house for him, though he insists on using it as an “office,” sleeping in this dump.” The warrior motioned at the tower around them. “Anyway,” she said, “We brought supplies for this first winter with us, and fish what we can, but someone hunting and foraging regularly would be a boon, honestly. Old Gara the healer, he’ll pay for anything you can gather for him, he’s usually looking for whatever. Had some run-ins with shitty wolves too.

“You could sleep in the barracks, got a bunk next to mine that’s free,” Quinn continued, and Alla looked down at her cup, untouched, feeling overwhlemed. She hadn’t had a drink in...how long had it been? How long had she been travelling? People, again? Someplace loud with others around, again not like her small room in Bear’s Son. It felt good to be warm and dry, even in the draftiness of the stone keep. She kept still, the moment quiet and awkward, until she heard a cough. “Actually,” the older woman said, a look in her eye, standing up, “Get your stuff, got a better idea.”

The two of them outside, walked along the northern wall, past the gate that wasn’t so much built, Alla thought, as cut into the wood, a barricade across it, another in the gambeson shirt and leather tunic standing watch with axe and shield, something painted on it. The two nodded to each other, and Alla realized she shouldn’t dawdle too much, following in a haze. “Wh...who are you all?”

“Fought with Lin for Old Stump, followed him when he asked after he got his yeoman reward running this ol’lovely spot.” Quinn was looking for something along the tree line, half paying attention, and pointed vaguely. “I’m from Fireseat up a ways, originally, figured this was a good halfway between my ma and my loyalty to Lin,” she said, “Quinn’s the same, fought with Lin and Lin’s father, most of us did, made sense to follow him here. Got away from fighting against Reed, at least” she spit on the ground. “There it is,”

“Against Reed? What? But...I thought…” Alla wavered, the sentence lost as she saw what Quinn was motioning to, her voice trailing. It was a cabin, a small one, the door crooked, but inside, she looked as Quinn watched, arms crossed. There was a chest, a hearth made of blackened stone, a frame for a bed criss-crossed with rope. “I can bring ya some kindling for fire, some stuff for bedding if you need,” the woman said, “there’s an axe somewhere for firewood, I think too, you could use, and a pot if you need.” Alla let her pack fall onto the wooden frames of the bed, touching the walls. She looked back out the open doorway as Quinn kept talking, “We found this when we showed up, probably some hunter’s spot or was going to be a watchtower for the keep. Falls in th’range of our authority, so to speak,” she spit on the ground outside the doorway, “Figured a hunter working to clear wolves and get some rabbit and fowl for the communal stew pot, would be able to keep this place, make it somethin’ nice, ya know?”

“Haaa!”

Alla swung the axe overhead, moving through the motions, practicing. She’d been trying every day at dawn and dusk to get used to its weight, the balance, get more comfortable with it. It wasn’t like a woodcutter’s axe, the blade was thinner, the haft shorter, and she struggled to not tip over every time she swung too hard, holding it in one hand. It’d felt more natural when warding off the wolves, but she’d been desperate then. She hated the idea of it, because it was Milo’s, but she figured when she got to Old Stump she could maybe trade it for something else, like even a sword.

The thought of Old Stump made her pause, “fuck it,” she said, slumping to sit on the ground by her small fire. She’d been heading east-ish, but moving lazily, hunting more, staying in the same campsites for more than one night. She’d decided to randomly go north a day ago, putting it off, putting it off...knowing that winter was fast approaching. She could go to Fireseat where Milo was from, but then, why wouldn’t he have told her about going there? Was there something wrong with Fireseat that he was so insistent on Old Stump?

Regardless, she knew she had to make a decision soon. If she was going to stay out here, she’d need a real shelter, not a tent or up in a tree, or she’d need to get to a town and ask if she could work for her food. But the idea of a big town made her anxious, a pit in her stomach and her breath came hard.

There was a rustling around the little clearing in the bushes, and she whirled, axe up and dagger out, breathing ragged, brain completely in survival mode. Alla had been avoiding anything that might attract wolves to her, hiding her middens and scraps in pits, sleeping up in trees, suffering the cold while a fire would burn below, anything she could think of from the tricks the older hunters had taught her. She’d even, that day when she’d come down from the tree, retrieved and tried to repair the arrows from the ground and in the one wolf, knowing that they were too precious to waste and unsure if she’d be able to replace them. One had been salvageable, at least, and she’d been able to get the iron arrowhead from the other to use later. But her bow and quiver were on the other side of her small camp, she didn’t even have the bronzed discs of the armored vest on, she realized. This was it, this was it, this was it, this wa…

The bushes parted and a man and woman approached, hands up. They were footmen, in long leather tunics over the kind of quilted shirt she wore. The man had a leather cap on, face lined and craggy, the kind of face that Milo had, she realized. Resigned to their position, skilled, self-assured, but not cruel or boastful. Simple, she thought. She’d call him simple, Alla thought in the second. He had a sword and dagger on his belt, but didn’t reach for them. “Easy, lass,” he said, a voice like gravel coming out, “We saw your smoke, wanted to see if y’were friendly, you know,” he said. “The lord asked us to find you,” the other said, a woman, in the same outfit, but no cap, and she realized that they were soldiers for a lord, in uniform. “Are...are we near Old Stump?” She said, lowering her weapons slowly, but not entirely. The woman also wore a sword, a bow and quiver on her back, and she shook her head as she took it off, the two lookign at each other. “A few days south, I guess?” The man nodded, “We’re from...well, guess’ts new, I suppose. Lord calls it Deepvalley, just an hour over,” she said, pointing eastwards. “Got a camp set up, for fellin’ trees, gonna be a new town.”

A new town? “Where you from, girl?” Simple said, “Ain’t no towns for days, weeks.” Alla, looking betweene the two, the older man with his hands up and the woman ignoring him now, warming her hands by the small fire, she sighed, putting the axe and dagger back on her belt. “Bear’s Son,” she said, picking up her canteen, drinking, passing it to the man.

The older man indicated he didn’t know it, but the woman soldier’s eyes got wide. “Hell’s piss, that’s almost three weeks west? What the hells are you doing here?” she asked, taking the canteen, sipping, handing it back to Alla as she stood up and brushed off the long leather tunic that went to her knees. It was a uniform, but Alla realized compared to what she thought a soldier’s uniform might look, it was almost...dirty. “Looking for work? I don’t know if the lord’s gonna want any more guards, but a hunter nearby’s a good thing, should be a few weeks of hunting left before the snow falls, huh?” She picked up her bow and arrows as the older man looked around. “You know, ‘M sure the lord would want to meet you, maybe ask you t’stay,” she said. “No pressure, but can’t hurt to sleep indoors by a fire, at least tonight?” Alla thought about it. There wasn’t anything about these two that were like the wandering mercenaries who’d come to Bear’s Son before, swaggering with weapons bared, bristling with danger. The man Simple reminded her of Milo for sure, the woman...the way she moved confidently, the way Quick, because that’s how Alla’s mind thought of her, wore her sword and bow, waiting for Alla’s answer, she felt like this was what she should be, how she should hold herself.

Alla stayed in the tree for a day.

She was wedged in well enough, and finally resorted to her trail food, able to loop the pack to her front so she could dig them out. She wet her throat with some water, chewing, breathing as the rain died off completely, letting the poison of fear out of her, tear by tear.

The last time she’d felt like this was...when was it? She couldn’t remember, some holiday in Bear’s Son when she’d missed her parents, even though it’d been so long since they’d died, the celebrations around her in the village and the hall driving her somewhere behind a rainbarrel, crying hysterically until someone, probably Milo, had found her. He was the one who’d called it the poison of fear, and how important it was to cry it out, get it all out like the drops of venom a snake pushed into you. It had to be pushed out, he’d said, old woman Rinn nodding in agreement, babbling about the girl being hungry, pushing food and a sweet into her hands as they’d crowded her back to the fire.

That was something about Bear’s Son Alla missed right now, looking down the tree into the afternoon and hearing a soft rustling, the wolves probably close. Everyone helped others out, something she’d heard not all the villages did, letting an orphan stay and be cared for by everyone. After that cry she’d played, some of the other children she knew playing with her out of pity on orders of their parents, but still, she figured as she swallowed the last mouthful and put the water and dried meat into her pack, cinching it tight again, it’d helped. It’d been the last time she’d let poison out, or had poison to get out. Bear’s Head had been her home.

“No more poison,” she muttered to herself, taking stock. She had the height, about a day’s water if she was careful, her axe and dagger, and bow and arrows. If she could get them to come out of the brush...but no, shit. They’d know to wait until she was close, and grimacing, she unslung the bow, tugging an arrow free and aiming down at the dirt below, partially drawing. Alla hated wasting an arrow like this, but she wanted to count them. She loosed, the ironhead arrow THUNK-ing into the soil and falling leaves.

They came in a flash, brown and gray and one black, she thought, nosing, looking up at her. One, two, three...five...seven. Shit. Seven mangy half-starved wolves were a problem, and alone she didn’t think she could do this. Alla pulled another arrow free, drawing back, sighting...holding her breath, and release.

It hit the brown one, and the wolf squealed and fell over, thrashing. The rest took off in a flash, the brown one whimpering and on its side, unable to get up completely. It wasn’t dead yet, and the pathetic noises it was making was almost too much for her to bear. In a hurry she drew again, aiming for the long head, and snapped off another shot, putting it out of its misery. It was sloppy and wasteful, she chided herself, but leaving it to suffer like that was cruel, she reasoned, worth the arrow that probably broke off inside it. She drew a third and fourth arrow, might as well try to lure them out again. One on the bow, the other ready in her fingers to nock and draw, she pulled back, again the THUNK into the soil.

Nothing.

“Fuck!” she barked, they were onto her. She couldn’t stay up here, she should have tried to get more than one before, but wasn’t thinking. “Stupid,” Alla hissed and breathed deep. “OK, fuck it, let’s go,” she said, steadying herself.

The bow was useless now, and as she slowly slid down the tree, making sure it was all snug on her back, hand slick with sweat. She’d seen Milo do this once, when they’d fought the wolf that one time, but she’d been up on a roof with just her bow, watching. Once she was almost a man’s height from the ground, she stopped...hearing the rustling, and slowly unslung the axe and pulled the dagger, holding the hatchet blade loose in her grip, the dagger blade-up. Her feet touched the forest floor with a soft thump, and they came at her.

“AHHHHHH!” she yelled, trying to make herself large, loud, scary, and one backed up, unsure. Before the rest could do anything she stepped back with her back to the trunk swung out wildly with both arms at the same time, the dagger and axe extending her grip. The wolves paused, one growling, but not moving, the black one, the one her yell had scared, stepping back. Good, she thought, they knew what blades were, had experience with hunters, with steel. The black one was biggest, less rangy, she noticed, swinging and stepping forward again, another “AGRALALALALALALA!” loud in her throat and out her lips, and he stepped back again even as her axe swung close to a ragged ear, a brown wolf that immediately yelped and bolted into the brush. The rest weren’t growling, the black and the others now cautious, realizing that she might not be worth it after all this time.

“Now or never” she whispered to herself, and took a step to the left, exposing her back to the woods, and swung again, this time a deliberate move at the old rangy brown that still snarled, dagger narrowly missing its nose. Then the axe overhand at the one next to it, which barked and backed up, turning into the woods. The black wolf yapped, the rest turning into the brush, he, and she knew that a dirty mean wolf not part of a true pack was a he, stared at her a long time, tongue lolling. Then the black mass turned and slowly hopped, almost like a tame cat or a fox, over a log and into the woods, melting away.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck!”

Alla ran, foolishly, running at top speed through the trees in the rain, feeling the sweat soak her under the thick clothing that was now just heavy and cold, her hood off, rain in her hair, the thick tied-up bun of it unravelling and tangling with her pack and bow and quiver. Stupid, stupid, stupid, she thought. So stupid. She’d gotten lost, turned around while chasing a rabbit, figuring she could hunt rather than dip into her stores, the sun wasn’t visible for a moment...and now she was unsure where she was. Somewhere in the Old Wood, hopefully running east, towards Old Stump or even just the edge of the woods.

Then the wolves found her. Thin and mangy, a small group, probably cast-offs from true packs brought together from ugly desperation and a bad winter for them, good for places like Bear’s Son though, she thought briefly, possibly laughing as she breathed hard and leaned against a tree, looking around. A mangy pack would be dangerous but at home, a half-dozen archers on roofs could cut them down, the stringy meat and furs useful for communal stew and rags or leathers.

But she wasn’t at home, she thought, tightness in her throat for a moment.

There was a good chance they’d leave her alone, especially if the rain didn’t let up. She just...she had to wait. She had to wait them out, she took off again, hearing their thrashing in the brush, seeing through the rain a low-enough branch finally, breathing hard and jumping up, straining to pull herself up onto the branch, clinging to the wet bark hard with both arms. The growling under here in the wet dark was louder, and she didn’t stop, the weight of her cloak and pack and bow feeling like too much as she inched forward, reached up, kept climbing, didn’t stop. The trunk split and she leaned into the cleft of it, breathing, breathing...breathing, shivering for the first time she realized, shivering so hard she couldn’t stop. “G-godsdammit,” Alla muttered, out loud, realizing today was the first time in days she’d used and heard her own voice, teeth chattering. Below, the growling was lower now, but not gone, and she felt her fingers work to drag the hems of her cloak ‘round her, shivering so hard she was scared she’d fall out of the tree.

She was scared, Alla realized. She was scared, alone, wet and tired, up in the tree and lost, and for the first time, she realized she was scared and wanted nothing more than to be back in Bear’s Son, back in the hal...in Milo’s hall, at the fire listening to him talk about chores needing to be done, or sitting and listening to Enna telling her a story about her brother tripping and falling into the barrel of brewing ale their father had made, firelight making her freckled cheeks glow.

The rain began to slowly lessen, and Alla shivered one more deep time, knowing that meant the wolves would be staying down there now, waiting her out, and when she breathed out, her face felt full and stuffy and she cried, just letting loose and wailing against her arm, snot and tears hot against her wet cold face.