by Jo Spurrier
‘Well ye’d best make up yer mind swiftly. In or out, that’s the general rule. Can’t be dithering on the threshold, ye know. As for me . . . how old would ye say I am, lass?’
I studied him from the corner of my eye. ‘Older than you look,’ I hazarded.
‘Hah. What’d ye say if I said I was somewhat north of a hundred fifty?’
I bit my lip. ‘I’d believe it. How, though?’
‘Well, let’s just say I’ve had an interesting life.’
‘That really doesn’t answer the question.’
He chuckled again. ‘Now ye do sound like yer mistress. Well, young Elodie, some folks, when they come across something out of the ordinary, they turn around and walk away without e’er looking back. Let’s just say I ain’t one of those folks, and I don’t think ye are, either.’
When we reached the cottage, the back door was open and the only light inside was from the faint flicker of the dying fire.
Attwater gestured for me to wait outside. I was torn, but I did as he said while he sidled up to the door, making a low whistle like the call of a night-waking bird.
From within came a similar call, and he ducked inside, bow strung and in his hands with an arrow nocked. After a moment he reappeared, waving me to follow.
Inside, Aleida still lay on the floor, much as I’d left her. Laurel sat on her heels nearby, head cocked to one side. Next to her was one of our few bowls, holding a bundle of dried herbs wrapped up with string, one end charred and wafting smoke. ‘The old witch was here,’ Laurel said as we entered. ‘But I interrupted her, and the smoke saw her off. She will be back, though.’
‘I don’t doubt it,’ Attwater said, looking down at Aleida.
At the sound of their voices, she began to stir. With a low moan she pulled her hands in, as though trying to push herself up, but she lacked the strength.
Attwater caught her under the arms, and without ceremony heaved her up and dragged her to the wall. There he set her half-upright with her back against the whitewashed stone while she moaned again, fighting to open her eyes.
‘If I didn’t know better, lass, I’d say ye were drunk,’ he said. ‘Then again, it ain’t the first time I’ve scraped ye off the floor, is it?’
‘Screw you, Attwater,’ Aleida said, her voice slurred and her eyes still shut. ‘Where’s the girl? Gyssha, Gyssha’s going to kill her.’
‘The lass is here, she’s safe. The old witch tried to get rid of her, but she didn’t manage it.’ He beckoned me forward.
‘I, I’m here,’ I said. For a moment Aleida managed to open her eyes, but they were unfocused and soon closed again. ‘I’m sorry, miss, I truly am.’
She didn’t respond. Eyes closed, her head slumped to one side.
Across the room, Laurel stood with one graceful movement, picking up the bowl with the smouldering herbs as she did so. ‘Here,’ she said, passing it to me.
‘Thank you,’ I said. Good manners out of reflex. ‘What is it?’
‘Protective agents,’ she said with a shrug. ‘Keep it smoking, and for a time it will keep the old witch away.’
‘For a time?’ I said. ‘How long? What about when it runs out?’ I wanted to protest that smoke could do any such thing, but then I remembered the red rift in the darkness, and the monsters crawling through.
‘A few hours,’ Attwater said. ‘Long enough for young Miss Blackbone here to wake up a little.’
Laurel started towards the door then, without so much as a backwards glance. With a small shrug, Attwater turned to follow.
‘Wait!’ I said. ‘Please, don’t go. What if she comes back?’
Laurel paused in the doorway. ‘She won’t, as long as the smoke burns.’
‘And after that,’ Attwater said, ‘there’s not a damn thing we could do to help ye, or yer mistress. I’m a hunter, lass, I kill beasts, not ghosts. We can do more good going after the beasties that came through the rift.’
‘Let them go, Dee,’ Aleida slurred, barely more than a whisper. ‘It’s the truth.’ Until she spoke, I’d guessed she’d passed out again.
I wanted to argue. I wanted to grab Attwater by the sleeve and beg him to stay. I’d have done the same to Laurel, except that I didn’t dare touch her, as wild and otherworldly as she was. But instead I just clasped my hands together, and tried not to cry. ‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘For helping me out there.’
Attwater gave a brief grin, showing rather more teeth than I expected. ‘Well, lass, let’s just say that ye owe me one.’
‘And on that note,’ Laurel said. ‘Blackbone. You freed me, I freed you. We are even.’
‘Yeah,’ said Aleida, still slumped. ‘Sure. Fine. Whatever.’
Laurel snorted, a sound like wind in the leaves, and then the pair of them were gone.
After a few moments, I stepped over Aleida to shut the door behind them. ‘Were you born in a barn?’ I muttered under my breath. Then I checked on the bundle of herbs, and blew on the smouldering end of them to raise another gust of smoke.
‘You all right, Dee?’ Aleida said.
I looked down at myself. Filthy dirty, covered with scratches, scrapes and bruises. My throat burned, my neck ached, and my arms throbbed where the smoke had scalded them. I was rather worried about my hair, too, but I wasn’t game to explore that any further right now. ‘Yeah. I’m in one piece.’
‘Good.’
She said nothing more after that. Cautiously, I crouched down to touch her cheek, and then feel her neck for a pulse. She was icy cold, and the throb beneath my fingertips was impossibly slow. You should probably be dead, I said inside my head. But I’m not going to make a fuss.
I was cold too, cold and weary to the bone. I should fetch her a blanket, I thought, and probably one for myself, too. I should build up the fire and fetch some water. I should wash the dirt and ash from my skin.
But instead I set my back against the wall and let my legs fold, sliding down the rough plaster until I sat beside my mistress. I felt empty and dry, like a piece of charcoal thrown clear of the fire. Just . . . spent.
Beside me, Aleida stirred. She tried to lift her head, but it rolled to the side instead. ‘I’ll be honest, kid,’ she said, her voice soft and slurred. ‘I figured you for a dead girl.’
‘I nearly was,’ I said. ‘You knew it was Gyssha?’
‘Soon as I tasted the laudanum. What did she do? Did she use the tree?’
I nodded, too weary to speak, and only then recalled that Aleida couldn’t see me. ‘Yeah.’
‘Did it make a rift?’
I remembered the hole, a hole in the world itself. The hot air streaming around me, the shrieks and gibbers of the creatures that spilled through, the burning smoke. ‘Yeah.’
‘Warlock dead?’
‘I think so? They pulled him through.’
‘Oh. Oh yeah, he’s dead. And now there’s a gods-damned rift to clean up. Just what I need.’ Her eyes were open, but only just.
‘Are you all right?’ I said. ‘What about your hand?’
A small crease appeared on her forehead. ‘Hand?’
‘I, I stepped on it, remember?’ I recalled all too clearly how the bones had groaned and grated under my foot. I didn’t think I’d felt them crack, but that didn’t mean there was no damage done.
‘Oh,’ she said again. ‘Hah. Look, kid, you gave me enough laudanum to kill a horse. I can’t feel a gods-damned thing right now.’
‘Enough to kill a horse, but not you?’
‘I’m a Blackbone, Dee, I’ve got poison in my veins; no one’s getting rid of me that easily.’
I squeezed my eyes shut. ‘I’m really sorry, miss. The laudanum . . . I don’t even remember doing it.’
‘You wouldn’t,’ she said. ‘Gyssha’s good at this sort of thing. Really good. It’s not your fault.’
It didn’t feel that way. Every inch of me hurt, my hands and arms worst of all. How many of those things had made it through the rift — the rift that I made? And the warloc
k . . . there was no way around it, he’d still be alive if it weren’t for me. It wasn’t the fact that he was dead that bothered me, really — it was the fact that I’d been used to kill him. At the time I couldn’t see it clearly, I was too caught up in the chaos and confusion, but now, looking back, I could see the whole picture. Gyssha had dumped me in the warlock’s path as a distraction, nothing more, while she lit up the branch of the demon tree and sent the earthbeast in. The old witch had used me, and when she was finished she’d thrown me away.
‘Dee?’ Aleida said, and I glanced up to find her watching me with dark eyes, her pupils huge in the dim light.
‘Can’t feel a thing, hey?’ I said. ‘I could use a little of that right now.’
Her lips quirked in the semblance of a smile. ‘Kid, I’d pass it on if I could. What happened? Catch some smoke?’
I nodded, and held up my arms.
‘Did you breathe any in? Get it in your eyes? Even a little?’
I shook my head. ‘As soon as I saw what was coming I threw myself down into the dirt. Why? What would happen?’
‘Bad things. Visions of demons and creatures from the nether; bleeding from the lungs and eyes. Good move, getting down low.’ She shifted against the stone, head lolling again. ‘I wish I could help you, Dee, but I still can’t move. If I — wait, there is something. My packs, where did you put them?’
It felt like weeks ago that I’d set out on the grey horse. ‘They’re over here, near the bed.’
‘Tip them out. Somewhere there’s a little porcelain jar with some ointment inside.’
I looked over to the bed. It was so far away I’d almost rather forget about it. But with a sigh I heaved myself up and crawled across the flagstones to tip the bags out onto the floor.
What lay inside bore a striking resemblance to my own gear in the carrying-basket. A couple of changes of clothes, roughly bundled up, a gap-toothed comb, a few pairs of socks. But also a clouded mirror, a leather-bound book with a feather quill between its pages, and a bottle of ink. There were pouches that clinked, and bundles wrapped in rags, a few rocks and crystals and many other odds and ends. But right down the bottom I found a bundle tightly wrapped in cloth.
‘That’s it,’ Aleida said. ‘Bring it here.’
Moving gingerly, I brought it over and then paused to waft the smoke again. ‘Does this stuff really work?’
‘A smudge stick made by a dryad? I bloody well hope so, kid; that’s the strongest you’re ever going to find. Besides, you don’t feel Gyssha around here, do you?’
I didn’t know how to answer that, so I ignored the question. ‘But what about when it burns out?’
‘Oh,’ she said. ‘That’s when the fun starts up again. Open it up, Dee.’
The bundle was a medicine kit, of sorts. A few bottles and vials, a little packet of needles and silk thread, some neatly folded rags and rolled bandages, and as she said, a little jar of salve, the wax seal already cracked and flaking.
‘That’s the one,’ she said. ‘But you’re best off washing your arms first. Any water left by the fire?’
That meant moving again. I’d really rather have stayed where I was. I felt eyes upon me, and glanced across to find her watching me. ‘Go on,’ she said. ‘You gotta look after yourself, kid, no one’s gonna do it for you.’
‘Yeah, yeah,’ I muttered, heaving myself up. ‘I’m going, I’m going.’
There was enough water left to wash my face and my hands and arms, but the touch of it set the burns throbbing again. By the time I stumbled back to the kit laid out on the flagstones my arms felt like they were on fire.
‘Salve,’ Aleida said, flapping a hand towards the porcelain jar. ‘Put it on thick, it’ll help. It’s my own formula.’
The salve smelled strange, sharp enough to sting my nose and make my eyes water, but as soon as it touched my skin the throbbing settled to a prickling tingle, like pins and needles. Unpleasant still, but miles better than the raw sting of the burns.
‘You’d better bandage them, too,’ Aleida said. ‘You’ll need to keep the burns out of the sun, or they’ll scorch all over again.’
‘They’re going to scar, aren’t they?’ I said, glumly.
‘Not if you do what I say. Trust me, Dee, if there’s one thing I know, it’s potions.’
By the time my arms were wrapped from knuckles to elbow in clean linen bandages, Aleida’s eyes had brightened, and she was slowly flexing her fingers in her lap.
I blew on the smouldering herbs again. The bundle was more than half gone now. ‘Can I ask you something?’
Her eyes cut to me with a glare. ‘Stop that.’
I flushed and looked down. ‘Sorry.’
‘That, too. Just spit it out, Dee, don’t waste both our time asking for permission.’
It took me a moment to find the words. ‘Out there, with Gyssha, she used me to set an ember burning, to light the branch. That was magic, wasn’t it?’
She scowled, as though it was a stupid question. ‘Of course.’
‘So did that come from her or me?’
‘From you.’
‘But does that mean I’m a . . . a . . .’
‘A witch? Nope. Fire’s an easy one, most people could do it if they knew how. Or if they believed they could.’ She rolled her head my way then, and regarded me steadily. ‘You could be, though. If you wanted to.’
I started to speak. I opened my mouth, but no words came out. I didn’t know what I wanted to say.
She was still watching me. ‘Do you want to?’
‘I . . . I . . . I don’t know. Is it always like this?’
She laughed then, a deep chuckle. ‘Like this? Gods no. Sometimes things get really hairy.’ She shifted on the flagstones then, heaving herself up a little straighter as she looked over the floor. The candles I’d set out earlier were still there, I realised. ‘Don’t answer me now,’ she said. ‘Though you’d better decide soon. In the meantime, there’s something I need you to do. Light those candles again, would you?’
I really didn’t want to. Now that my arms had finally stopped hurting, and the rush of terror from the conflagration in the forest had passed, all I wanted was to sit and do nothing. ‘What if I said no?’ I said, giving her a flat stare.
‘Not an option. We need to move while we can. Gyssha’s already got her next move planned and underway, and we need to keep up. So get up, get moving.’
‘This isn’t fair! I nearly died out there!’
‘Yeah, well, I nearly got my body stolen by an evil witch, so I’ve got you beat.’
‘And what d’you call what happened to me then? She stole my body too!’
‘That’s possession. Similar, I grant you, but she couldn’t have held it for long. I bet you felt her losing her grip, didn’t you? Now come on, no rest for the wicked, Dee. Up.’
Grumbling, I heaved myself up again and stumbled around, lighting the candles with a splint of wood from the fire. ‘All right,’ I said when it was done. ‘Now what?’
Aleida heaved a sigh. ‘You’re not going to like this bit. Sit in the middle of the circle.’
I froze. ‘Why?’
‘I want to talk to Gyssha. Well, not the real Gyssha, but the echo of her. She possessed you, right? She left . . . call it footprints, or fingerprints, inside you. I’m going to call them out.’
‘Do I get a choice in this?’
‘You really don’t. Sorry, kid. Sit.’
I wondered what she’d do if I turned on my heel and marched out the door. Somehow I doubted I’d get that far. ‘Fine,’ I snapped, and gathering my filthy skirts, stepped between the candles to settle on the flagstones. ‘Now what?’
‘Just sit. I’ll do the rest.’
She’d recovered a lot since Attwater had hauled her up to sit against the wall, but she was still clearly under the influence of the laudanum — her words were a little slow and slurred, and her hands were clumsy. But as I sat within the candles’ glow, she held out both hands with h
er palms up, and straight away I felt the air thicken.
Aleida closed her eyes and bowed her head, and then slowly raised her hands. I expected . . . I don’t know, an incantation, a spell, or something. But all she said was one word. ‘Gyssha.’
The air around me grew heavy and tight. I couldn’t move. The candle flames grew longer, stretching up to an impossible height.
‘Gyssha,’ Aleida said again, and this time I felt something stir within me, like a snake entangled in my vitals. I felt it move, felt it slide along my spine, and I nearly retched with revulsion.
‘Gyssha,’ Aleida said again, and I fell forward — no, I was flung forward, coughing and choking, my mouth full of ashes. They spilled from my lips, gritty and grey.
Slowly, I felt my head lift until my eyes locked onto Aleida’s.
‘Ah,’ she said. ‘There you are.’
‘And there you are,’ my voice rasped. ‘Foolish girl. On the floor where you belong. I can put you there, dead or alive. Never forget that.’
‘I might be on the floor, Gyssha, but you’re under it. Winning is the only thing that counts, isn’t that what you taught me? I won, and you lost.’
I felt myself breathing out in a low growl, and with my breath came a cloud of smoke and ash. ‘The game’s not finished yet, little girl.’ My mouth tasted like a charnel-house, full of burning and decay. ‘I had you, until that wretched dryad interrupted.’
‘Nearly won is just first loser,’ Aleida said with a small smile. ‘All because you couldn’t even kill a servant girl. Barely a scrap of power in her, too.’
‘The girl is nothing,’ my voice spat. ‘Less than nothing. It was the warlock I wanted — you cursed near spoiled everything when you let the dryad go! Do you have any idea how long it took me to catch that flighty beast? Or what he was going to pay for her? Of course not, but then, you always were a sentimental fool. He’d have killed you if you’d gone after him with that pathetic little puppet you made. Just how you survived two years without me, I’ll never know.’
‘And there’s the very essence of Gyssha Blackbone,’ Aleida said. ‘Why use a slipper to kill a bug when you can use a hammer?’
