Curse of the Night Witch

by Alex Aster

  The hydroclops lifted out of the water with the burst of an explosion, both heads emerging side by side. They stood fifty feet into the air, forked tongues shooting in and out of their identical mouths. The two sides of the serpent turned to look at each other, then at them.

  “Run!” Engle yelled. They took off, and within a moment, the snake was at their feet. “Split up!”

  Melda and Engle went left, and Tor went right. Just as he entered the trees, Tor turned to see that each head had attempted to chase its own target, slowing the creature down. The beast would have to decide which end would lead and which would be the tail, which meant Tor had about five seconds to get as far away as possible.

  Tor ran faster than he ever knew he could, thorned plants cutting his ankles. He shoved glowing green vines out of his way, but there were too many. One hit him on his side and almost knocked him down with its force, the vine as thick as a broadsword. He popped up and kept going. Plants that had slept peacefully now bloomed brightly at both of his sides, coming to life at his proximity, then closing once he passed.

  His breathing became rugged, loud; his legs burned beneath him, their muscles being pulled in all sorts of directions as he jumped over stumps and through a labyrinth of trees.

  Tor ran so quickly that when the ground suddenly curved down, his foot missed its next step, and he fell, rolling as quickly as a barrel down a waterfall, only seeing flashes of green and brown as he plunged down the slope.

  By the time he came to a stop, everything hurt. His ribs were tender, his knees burned, his head flashed in pain.

  He heard a scream—Melda. A moment later, she and Engle rolled down the same hillside, until they were just a few yards to his right.

  The hydroclops broke through the trees. Just one head poked out first, and then the other followed, the creature curved into a u-shape. Tor walked sideways until he reached his friends, and the three of them huddled together, stepping backward until there were no more steps to take. They had run right into a tree trunk as thick as the snake itself.

  The serpent curved its two heads down to their height, four giant nose holes breathing steam right into their faces. Engle coughed and Melda whimpered. “What do we do?” she whispered.

  “Die,” Engle said, his voice trembling. “I think we die.”

  One of the beast’s mouths opened unnaturally wide, its fangs as big as their legs, and moved to strike—

  But before it could, they heard a cracking sound like hundreds of branches being snapped in half.

  The snake’s heads lurched back, turning toward the noise, just as something a hundred feet tall broke off from the side of one of the tallest trees.

  “What is that?” Melda whispered.

  Engle grabbed them each by the wrist. “Who cares? It’s distracted.”

  Just as they turned to run, a boy around their age with what looked like paint smeared across his body stumbled out of the brush. “Come with me,” he said.

  Melda was the first to follow.

  “Shouldn’t we ask who this person is?” Tor asked Engle as they trailed the boy through the glowing vegetation. Close up, Tor could see animals painted across his body—a purple-striped tiger on his forearm, an orange snake on his leg, a green spider on his stomach. Tor counted ten images then kept finding more, the boy’s skin almost as colorful as the forest around them. They weren’t emblems, no, but something else: a man-made marking.

  Engle shrugged. “We just barely escaped being eaten whole. I’d follow just about anyone.”

  They reached a thick tree with a red dot painted on its base. Deep indentations in the bark made a sort of ladder that wrapped around the entire trunk, all the way to the top.

  “Come on.” The boy scurried up the tree with the ease of a squirrel.

  Normally, Tor would have been a bit more afraid of heights. But at that moment, he was just happy to be off the creature-infested ground.

  The climb up was astounding—each ten feet was like entering a new world—with different colors, patterns, and animals, who had each seemingly claimed their own layers of the rain forest.

  They kept going, climbing more than two hundred feet up, and Tor wondered where the boy could possibly be leading them. Only when they reached the very top did they stop.

  And that was when Tor heard voices. Just above, a few feet away…

  He poked his head out of the treetop and gasped.

  This was why they hadn’t encountered another human until now. The Zura village did not exist on the ground, or even in the trees, but over the treetops, far above the deadly creatures that roamed below.

  There were homes in the distance, with giant palm fronds for roofs and bark for doors, tied together by rope bridges. There was a market, selling everything from chocolate to expertly woven baskets to necklaces made of teeth large enough to be fingers. Strings of lights hung between the huts, made of tiny orbs, the same type that villagers in Estrelle sometimes strung on the trees that jutted out of their houses. Nearby, someone roasted a giant red pepper on a spit, charring its skin. Next door, a man sold curled cinnamon sticks that bathed the night air in spice, the smell reminding Tor of the traditional Eve tea his father always made.

  He had surfaced right in front of a stand selling bunches of bananas by the barrel. “Get them before the monkeys do!” the vender yelled out.

  “What is this place?” Melda asked.

  “We call it the Canopy, just a small part of Zura,” the boy replied. “And I’m Koso.” He hauled himself up, then walked over to the merchant. “Three cocoanuts for my new friends, here. They just survived the hydroclops.”

  They each stared down at the nuts in wonder. “Thank you?” Tor said.

  Engle shook his next to his ear.

  Koso laughed. “Here,” he said, before taking three metal straws from the vender’s stand. He sharply stuck one into Tor’s cocoanut. “Drink,” he instructed.

  Tor did, and sipped the sweetest chocolate-flavored milk he had ever tasted. His throat dry from their journey, he drank and drank, until his straw scraped against the bottom of the empty nut.

  Koso sat cross-legged directly on top of the tree they had just climbed, which was surprisingly steady, and patiently waited for them to finish. When Melda finally put her drink down, he cleared his throat. “Now,” he said. “What in the world are you three novates doing out here?”

  Tor figured novate was a term for outsider…and also sensed that the Zurians did not frequently happen upon them.

  Melda told Koso their story, starting from the night of Eve. Even though she went on for too long, drawing out unimportant parts, Koso listened intently, only interrupting when Engle started to slurp loudly at a clearly empty cocoanut.

  “If you want another one, just ask,” Koso said. And Engle did ask. Several times.

  Melda finally concluded her tale with a long sigh. “Any questions?”

  Koso pursed his lips. “Just one.” He turned to Tor. “How could you not believe in the Night Witch?” He shook his head. “In Zura, legends are as good as law.”

  “You know of her?”

  “Of course. We have a different name for her here, but it’s the same being.” He shrugged. “I might be able to help you find your next location, if you would like me to take a look.”

  Tor immediately pulled out the book from his backpack, flipping through stories until he reached the next one, called “Melodines and Captivates.” He skimmed the beginning and remembered that melodines lived in oceans. They weren’t anywhere near a sea and didn’t have time to go all the way up to the coast… He flipped to the next tale: “The Pelilargas.” Koso read over his shoulder.

  “No more!” A yell from the fruit stand made Tor jump. “This boy is going to put me out of business!” The merchant sent Engle away after he tried to claim his seventh cocoanut.

  Koso sat back
on his arms, looking pensive. Chico had emerged again and sat on Koso’s shoulder. “I’ve never heard this tale and don’t know where to find these…charming characters,” he said.

  Great, Tor thought.

  “But I might know somebody who does.”

  “Do they live around here?” Melda asked, excitedly looking around the Canopy.

  Koso grinned. “Not exactly. But I know a highly efficient way of getting there.”

  * * *

  “No. There is absolutely no way I’m getting on that.” Melda stood with her arms crossed. “It’s a death trap! I don’t do death traps.”

  Tor turned to Koso. “Are you sure this is safe?”

  Koso raised his eyebrows, looking confused. “Of course it’s not safe.”

  Melda’s mouth dropped open. “You see! He just said—”

  Koso held up a finger. “But, in Zura people use them to get around every day. There’s only been one death this year. Okay, maybe two—actually three, if you count Eve. Anyway…” He swung one arm around Tor and the other around Melda, who had paled. “If you follow my lead, you’ll be fine.”

  Follow my lead. Even though Tor no longer had a leadership emblem, the idea of following anyone other than himself—and, okay, maybe his mother—seemed strange. But he guessed he needed to learn to trust other people.

  “If it’s the fastest way through the rain forest, then we should go,” he said. Melda swung around to face him, shocked. He shrugged. “It could buy us some time.”

  Engle did a little dance. “Yes! I get to go first. All right, second. Koso should probably lead the way. But I definitely don’t want to go last.”

  They were inside a small hut, positioned near the top of a tree, standing on a wooden platform. Above them ran a wire that dipped down at a forty-five-degree angle, looking both steady and frighteningly thin. A rusted pulley and red handle attached to the cable, swinging gently in the night breeze.

  Tor squinted, trying to see where the wire went, but he couldn’t. It disappeared into the thicket of trees and could have ended up just about anywhere. “What do you call this?” he asked Koso.

  “There are several names. Some people call it the death slide. Others, a zippy.”

  Melda gave him a look. “Death slide?”

  Koso grinned. “Don’t worry, as long as you don’t let go, you’ll be fine.” He pursed his lips, looking thoughtful. “And, as long as a hawk doesn’t sweep in on you from above. Or, a horned-toe gorilla doesn’t happen to be swinging through the trees at the exact moment you’re passing through… They do like to hunt at this time of night.” He sighed. “But that would just be terrible luck and is highly unlikely.”

  Tor grimaced. “I think you should stop talking,” he suggested.

  Koso nodded. “Less talking, more zipping. I like it.”

  “No, I didn’t mean—”

  The Zurian boy jumped to grip the handle, swinging a few times back and forth. Then, he turned around and winked. “See you on the other side!” he yelled, before kicking off from the wooden platform. In a whoosh, he was gone, disappearing like he had jumped right through a cloud.

  The three remaining handles swung side to side, taunting them.

  “Well, I’m off,” Engle said, grasping the next one. He sailed down and away.

  Melda shook her head. “I’m not going, do you hear me? That treacherous balloon ride was bad enough, but falling through a forest full of creatures that want to have me for dinner? No way.” She turned to Tor. “You’ll just come find me? You’ll come back for me after you’ve found this person Koso knows, after you’ve figured out where we’re going next?”

  Tor swallowed. “You know we can’t do that,” he said gently. “We’ll lose too much time.”

  She stomped her foot. “And what if we get eaten by that horrible harpy bird from before? We won’t have much time then!” Her hiked-up shoulders slumped abruptly. “Aren’t you afraid?”

  “Of course I’m afraid,” he said louder than he meant. He cleared his throat. “I’ve been afraid since the moment I woke up with this.” He motioned his chin toward the eye sitting calmly on his wrist.

  She made a grumbling noise, then sighed, long and heavy. Finally, she held her head high. “You’ll be right behind me?”

  Tor nodded solemnly, passing Melda her handle. “Close your eyes,” he whispered. “Imagine you’re somewhere else—imagine you’re flying.” She shut her blue eyes tightly, tucked her necklace safely away, and nodded. Swallowed. Kicked off the platform…

  And then she was falling, screaming so loudly a dozen tiny birds shot out of the neighboring tree.

  “Being alive was nice,” Tor said to himself, before taking his own handle, saying a little prayer to the wish-gods, and hoping his next step wouldn’t be his last.

  * * *

  Tor quickly realized why the terrifying contraption was called a zippy. That was the noise the pulley made against the wire as he flew through the rain forest, fast as a sailfish. His stomach was in his throat, his heart lodged somewhere above that, every drop of the cable stirring up a new batch of nausea.

  Something bright purple whizzed by his left ear, missing his skin by just inches. Then, something below him, swinging through the trees. He wondered if he should follow his own advice and close his eyes, and as soon as he did, he found it was so much worse.

  He opened one eye again, just a crack—and at that exact moment, a bird that looked like a needlefish with wings zoomed right in front of his nose. Did it have two giant front teeth? If the creature had whizzed by just a second earlier, Tor might have found out.

  His stomach did a strange little jump as there was another sharp drop. He found himself in a completely new layer of the jungle.

  This part of the rain forest held rows upon rows of stubby, tunnel-shaped plants bunched into bouquets, just like the sun coral back home. As Tor approached an especially large group, the flora closed up, tentacle-like petals hiding away. Then, at the exact moment Tor passed by—

  They burst.

  One by one, like cannons, they shot fluorescent powder right onto him. He closed his eyes and coughed, wishing he could wipe his face, but knowing the consequences of letting the handle go. By the time he had zipped away from the strange plants, his clothes were covered in dramatic shades. Even his hair was full of the dust, which he tried his best to shake away.

  He broke through a final piece of the forest, full of the many glowing plants he had already seen, before the tips of his feet caught roughly on the ground. They dragged for just a few seconds before he let go.

  He catapulted forward and landed on his face.

  Melda groaned in front of him, still plastered to the ground like an egg in a pan.

  “That was awesome!” Engle jumped around them in circles, shooting his arms into the air. He was covered in color, head to toe. They all were, all except for Koso, who must have known a way to keep the plants from shooting out their powder. “Again?”

  Melda peeled herself off the dirt long enough to skewer him with a glare.

  Koso, meanwhile, looked distracted, squinting into the distance, looking like Engle when he spied something far away. Could he also be a sightseer?

  Koso broke into a wide grin. “Come now, there’s something nearby I want to show you.”

  Melda was still trying to dust herself off. She had about three types of dirt and mud on her face. “No, no way, nothing else from you.”

  “No more zipping for now, I promise. Just walking.”

  Tor didn’t move an inch, his heart still beating as fast as a hummingbird’s wings.

  “Come on!”

  “Where are we going?”

  “A tree has fallen!”

  Tor and Melda looked at each other. “So?”

  Koso sighed. “Our canopy is so thick that normally only a very limi
ted amount of light shines through.” Tor had experienced that much. The treetops were close enough together to allow for a village to have been formed on top of them, after all. “So, when a tree falls, it creates what we call a lightstream.”

  Melda scrunched up her nose. “What’s so special about that?”

  “You’ll see.”

  They walked through the rain forest in a line, with Koso at the front.

  Melda still did not seem satisfied with the explanation. “And how did you know about this lightstream when we were standing all the way over there?”

  Koso shrugged. “It’s part of my emblem.”

  “Are you a sightseer?” Tor asked.

  He shook his head. “No, but I’m very sensitive to moonlight,” he explained. “It changes me.”

  Melda’s brow bent in about five different places. “What do you mean the moon changes you?”

  “When it’s full, I transform. Into an animal, mostly, but I’ve been a plant before, too. One of those flowers that shoots out colored dust, actually—they have better aim than you might think.” He winked. “And trust me, they hit you on purpose.”

  Engle stopped dead in his tracks. He opened and closed his mouth like a confused fish. Tor had never quite seen him so lost for words. “You’re…you’re…” He blinked. “You’re a morphite?”

  Koso nodded.

  “What’s your animal? No, let me guess. An eel. No, a hawk! That’s what I’d choose.”

  He laughed. “I’ve been both of those. Every new moon is different. Depends on loads of things, I suppose—the weather, my dreams…the number of cocoanuts I’ve had that day. Soon though, I’ll have to choose one.”

  Engle threw his hands into the air. “Some people have all the luck!” He turned to Tor. “Do you think if we find the Night Witch, I can trade emblems?”

  Though Tor knew he wasn’t serious, it still triggered something. The fact that Engle could want an emblem other than his own was proof he wasn’t the only one who felt unsatisfied with their lot. If Tor really thought about it, Engle’s passion had always been for animals—being born with a creature-based emblem did seem more fitting than the one he had.