The Hidden Witch

by A C Rae

  CHAPTER TWO

  “Every Avarrian knows there are only a thousand or so witches in all of Avarria, led by the Grand Witch, who presides over the inner circle of witches at the Witches Guild in Aelin. But in the outlying villages, no witch is more notorious than the mad witch of the Treacherous Woods. No-one who has seen her has ever survived.”

  A Guide to Avarria, Chapter VII

  Pale and more than a little sore, Quinn slid unceremoniously off Bessie’s back, landing on the ground with a dazed thump. Pryce and Abershaw dismounted next to him.

  They had ridden in the direction of Aelin but had diverted off the main track onto a trail amongst the trees. A journey that hadn’t exactly thrilled Quinn, bearing in mind that the woods were full of dangers most folk whispered of in hushed tones. When he mentioned this to Pryce, who was barely visible in the pale moonlight, he had just laughed.

  But he was after all, one of the things that Quinn had been taught to fear as a coach driver, although a little more polite than bandits. Generally the first sign of them was when you felt a dagger at your back and if you were particularly unlucky, in your back. What was most unsettling about their current location was the oft repeated tales of a mad witch who lived in these very woods. But as Abershaw pointed out in response to Quinn’s mutterings, how did people know how dangerous she was if ‘no-one had survived?’ How could anyone prove a mad witch was the cause of any disappearances and not just a bandit who cleaned up after themselves for once?

  “Where exactly are we?” Quinn asked, looking around.

  Pryce didn’t answer. Instead he started looking among the bushes. Quinn turned to Abershaw.

  “Where are we?” Abershaw simply shushed him and pointed.

  “Where is the blasted thing?” Pryce exclaimed.

  “What thing?” Quinn asked.

  “The doorbell of course. What else would I be looking for?” Pryce answered irritably. Even though he had never heard of a doorbell, Quinn thought that there were several more sensible things he would look for in a bush if he was to look in one but sensibly decided to keep his mouth shut.

  “Ah ha!” Pryce pulled at a piece of rope, and a deep booming from a bell ringing echoed from somewhere inside the mass of trees. “And now we wait.”

  Quinn leaned against Bessie, exhausted. His body was a patchwork of bruises. In the space of waiting, each individual bruise seemed to be competing as to which one could throb hardest.

  Just as Quinn was about to ask just what they were waiting for, a man appeared with deep auburn hair and sharp green eyes. He was oddly dressed, in Quinn’s opinion, since from where he came from; people generally wore clothes made from cloth. Not leaves.

  The man glared at him, and Quinn realised he was staring. He looked quickly away. A second sly glance revealed that he was wearing clothes made from cloth, but they had leaves sewn onto them.

  “Pryce!” The man moved forward to embrace him.

  “Jacob! Good to see you brother-in-law.” They exchanged manly pats on the back.

  Quinn mumbled at Abershaw. “I didn’t know he had a sister.”

  Abershaw leaned sideways and whispered in his ear. “That isn’t a bad thing; she’s an awful nag. But don’t tell Pryce I said that.” He swiftly moved away from Quinn just as Pryce turned round to introduce them.

  “Jacob, you know Abershaw. And this is Quinn.” Quinn nodded as he was introduced. “Jacob is a healer.”

  Quinn openly stared now, awed. A chance to meet a healer was rare. Most of them kept to themselves, or you had to pay for their services. People in Quinn’s village didn’t have the money to attract them. He finally managed to get out a question. “Why do you have a door bell? I don’t see a door.”

  Jacob laughed. “I have a door it’s just not here. I don’t want people to know where I live. My house is the only one around for miles.”

  Quinn couldn’t help blurting. “But what about the witch everyone in the village fears?”

  “Oh, that. It’s just a rumour that got out of hand after I had a loud argument with my friend near the edge of the woods. After I criticised her cooking she responded by cursing in languages I’ve never heard before, so whoever was listening must have assumed she was dabbling in dark magic.

  Not that I mind, it keeps people out of my part of the woods.” He replied. “She’s away at the moment though. Besides the price of dark magic is high. It often makes you see demons everywhere, turns you crazy or causes you to think wife swapping is a good idea. A couple of witches near Aelin seriously fell out after trying out that idea. Guns and swords are more likely to be dangerous than magic.”

  Quinn’s attempts to speak translated into a wheezy gasp and a couple of inaudible words. Trying to process the information that Pryce not only had a sister but she was also a witch was occupying all of his attention. There were barely a thousand people with magic in all of Avarria.

  Jacob smiled rather sympathetically. He turned to Pryce. “Not that I am not pleased to see you but what are you here for anyway?”

  Pryce nodded. “Down to business. Excellent.” He paused, rubbing his hands together while he thought of the best place to begin. Quinn shifted his weight awkwardly between his feet.

  As Pryce continued to explain recent events, Quinn leaned further into Bessie, starting to doze off. Abershaw sat comfortably against a tree, lighting his pipe. Contented, he blew smoke out into little fleeting clouds over the first stars that had started to twinkle.

  Quinn jerked awake as Pryce finished his explanation. “You see I desperately need your help to hide Bessie. She’s a very noticeable kind of horse.”

  At this, Quinn clung onto Bessie. “I don’t want to leave her behind.” Bessie nodded in agreement, stepping back from Jacob and Pryce.

  “Don’t be silly, boy.” Jacob said. “Anyone can see that you and Bessie have a bond.” He stepped towards Bessie and stroked her. “I’m going to change the way that she appears to people.” He hummed something in Bessie’s ear and she went very still. Jacob stepped back and held out his hands, concentrating for a moment. “There we go.” He looked satisfied. “Now she looks like a grey mare.”

  “No she doesn’t.” Quinn contradicted. “She looks just like she did before. Black.”

  Pryce interrupted. “I disagree; she looks like a grey mare to me.” Abershaw looked up from his pipe and nodded.

  “How come she looks exactly the same to me then?” Quinn retorted.

  Jacob spoke softly. “Because that’s the way she chooses to appear to you. I explained how she needed to hide herself from others. You have a very special horse here, Quinn. But, stay away from those with magic; they'll be able to tell.”

  “You can talk to horses?” Quinn felt that he needed a lie-down.

  “In a manner of speaking.” Jacob smiled. “Come on then, it’s obvious that you three need a bed for the night. If you arrive in Aelin now you’ll be way past curfew and you’ll have to avoid the Watch.”

  Quinn smiled back, hugely relieved. The bruises covering him made it difficult to stay seated on Bessie without feeling like dark Ancestors were dancing across his body. He certainly didn’t feel like creeping around Aelin at this time of night either. He stepped stiffly forward to follow Jacob through the trees.

  After what felt like an age of wincing and traipsing through trees to Quinn, they arrived at the front of Jacob’s house. It did indeed have a door, although there was no bell. Jacob explained as they walked, that it would make sense for the bell to be hidden somewhere away from the house, otherwise people would just be able to follow the rope (if they happened to find it in the bush) back to his house. The concept was strange to Quinn, who had spent his life with the entire village knowing exactly where he lived. He considered the fact that in reality you could walk straight into anyone’s house and it was only a shared unspoken rule that you politely knocked first before doing so.

  Instead of being made of wood, the house was made from mud bricks and straw. Quinn was surpris
ed to find that once inside, it was very cosy. It smelled of fresh herbs and earth.

  Jacob showed him to his bed, which turned out to be a bed of heather and chamomile with a blanket over the top.

  He handed Quinn a green cup of warm drink. Quinn looked dubiously at it. However, certain he would offend his host if he didn’t drink it; he downed it in one gulp. He collapsed instantly onto the bed, deeply asleep.

  Pryce came in through the doorway. “How is he?” he whispered.

  “Out like a light. The sleeping draught I gave him means he won’t wake up for hours. I wasn’t expecting him to down the lot in one gulp. He might not even wake up for a day or so. People usually take a sip first because it’s so green and then fall straight asleep, but I always give them a full cup because your sister says small or half empty ones look suspicious, and they might pour it in the plants. It doesn’t do them any good…”

  Pryce looked at Quinn curiously. “After the state of the beer I’ve seen him drink in his village tavern I’m afraid to say he is used to drinking worse.”

  Jacob unbuttoned Quinn’s top and pulled it open. Both men exhaled in surprise. Quinn had heavy bruising all along his front, especially to his stomach area. Jacob pressed gently along his ribs. “He’s fractured a couple of these ribs. How he managed to stay seated on an unsaddled horse all the way here, plus walk to my house…”

  “He was clutching his side a lot but he wasn’t complaining.” Pryce leaned further forward as Quinn moaned softly, his brown hair limply falling across his face.

  Jacob turned him slowly onto his side to take a look at his back. His back had taken the worst of the blows and certainly looked like it had. “By the Ancestors! Quinn has some pain threshold.”

  “I think he was probably more focused on what happened in the village to even notice. He looked exhausted to me. I expect he’s taken it hard.”

  Jacob stood up. “Never mind I can mend this. I’ll just prepare a very large poultice and bind it with some cloth bandages, and to sort his ribs I’ll just feed him one of my preparations. It should heal up the worst of it overnight. I expect his legs aren’t too bad, probably just sore from riding bareback. But you need to make sure he eats better, he is showing signs of malnutrition.”

  Pryce nodded with a pained look at the son of his best friend. “Thank you.”

  “No problem. I know how much his father meant to you and I know how much Quinn means to my wife.” Jacob left to go to the kitchen.

  Pryce settled down to sleep on the other side of the room on the earthen floor.

  “What am I going to do with you Quinn?”

  Quinn woke to an empty room. Light filtered in from a round window that he hadn’t noticed when they had arrived in the night.

  He went to sit up but found it was awkward to do so.

  Lifting his shirt, he found to his surprise that he had bandages running across his chest and back. He prodded them gingerly. He felt alright. Certainly better than he had last night, although he still ached.

  Pryce walked in. “Ah, you’re awake. I wondered when you’d be up. You’ve been asleep for two days.”

  “Two days?!” Quinn glanced in the direction of the window, as if he could gauge the time from the thin beams of sunlight peaking between the trees.

  Abershaw popped his head round the side of the door way. Quinn noted absently that there wasn’t actually a door to the room. “How come?”

  Jacob walked in briskly, carrying a bowl and a spoon. “You needed the sleep, that’s all.” He glared at Abershaw, who stopped mid-smirk. “You slept so soundly you didn’t even notice that I was bandaging your bruising and your fractured ribs.”

  Quinn frowned. “I don’t sleep that deeply unless I’ve been drinking. I’m sure of it.”

  “You must have been extra tired then.” Jacob said, glaring again at Abershaw who had started sniggering. Abershaw stopped abruptly. You didn’t laugh at a healer without regretting it later. He wouldn't want to wake up with hives or worse.

  Jacob put the bowl down onto a wooden tray and placed it on Quinn’s lap. “Eat.” he commanded. Quinn looked down at it. It was a murky brownish green and there were hairs floating in it.

  “Er, what is it?” He asked.

  “Soup. What else does it look like? Did you bang your head as well?”

  Quinn looked embarrassed. “Of course not.” To Pryce’s disgust, as he had also noticed the hairs, Quinn started gulping it down with gusto. After he had finished, he put the spoon back into the bowl with a clatter. “Thanks.” He felt pleasantly warmed from the inside. Abershaw stifled another laugh as Quinn pulled a weird facial expression, as a tingling sensation had spread from his stomach to the ends of his fingers and toes.

  “Healing soup.” Jacob explained. “Most people don’t care for the tingling sensation but then most people don’t care to have fractured ribs either.” He pushed Quinn gently down into a lying position. “You need another day’s bed rest. No getting up.”

  As Quinn could feel the last of his aching subside, he fervently nodded. Jacob left the room, leaving behind Pryce and Abershaw. Quinn regarded them from the bed. “He’s amazing. Did my father know about him?”

  Pryce shook his head. “I met Jacob after I started avoiding your father. I didn’t even know that my sister had married until I’d stumbled into the woods. I’d drunk too much rum trying to relieve the pain of an arm wound I received during a coach raid.”

  “His sister found him sitting on the floor covered in twigs and leaves, singing completely out of tune and very loudly.” Abershaw interrupted.

  “You seem to be forgetting that at the time you had decided to try and help me by singing the harmony. Not that you would really call the noises you were making singing, I remember that much. Anyway,” Pryce looked pointedly at Abershaw, “My sister brought me here-“

  “After almost nagging you to death-”

  Pryce shot him a venomous look. “And Jacob fixed me up. Good as new. He flexed his arm out from underneath his jacket. Not even any scars.” He grinned.

  “Shame he wasn’t around when you got that scar from the flying fork.” Abershaw interjected.

  Quinn burst out laughing. He managed a question in between sniggers. “Highway robbery seems to be a dangerous ‘profession’ to me. Why are you two out risking your lives when you could just as easily do something else?”

  Abershaw responded immediately. “Easy. The risk is high but then so is the reward. I can live very nicely off a raid for at least a month, and the nobles we raid from hardly miss the money in the long run. The amount we take is pitiful against the money they hoard at home and the Aelin ladies love you even more when you have a bit of coin in your pocket. Unlike Mr Noble over there, I like to have a bit of fun with the money we take!” He thumbed over to Pryce, winking.

  “You have a very selective memory this morning. I know full well that you take money to your sister and your mother. And I've noticed you’ve stopped seeing Aelin ‘ladies’ since you’ve started meeting with that Lady Elizabeth.” Seeing Abershaw was about to interrupt, Pryce cut him short.

  “I know you think you’ve been seeing her in secret but I’ve been watching you woo her for months now.” Pryce was very satisfied to find that Abershaw was steadily turning pink. “I expect Quinn is now absolutely dying to know why I’m a highwayman. I’ll tell you but only if Abershaw doesn’t try to interrupt me.” Abershaw reluctantly nodded. Pryce drew a chair up to Quinn’s bed.

  “First of all I guess that it started with your father, Quinn. After your mother died I watched him struggle day after day to feed you on what that Wilkins fellow deemed to call wages. He would deduct from your father’s wages for taking you with him on coach journeys. But as you were only four years old and you didn’t have any relatives, he had no other way of keeping you safe. I was working as a coachman for him as well of course, but he paid me almost as little. Your father would refuse to take any of my money to help him out. He said that I needed it.”
>
  Quinn nodded, well aware of what Mr Wilkins was capable of.

  “Anyway, one day I decided that it wasn’t fair and decided to talk to Wilkins about it in strong terms. In such strong terms that I ended up being sacked on the spot. With no other means of income, I was forced to start playing card games in taverns in order to pay my bills. I said nothing of this to your father. I simply told him that I had acquired a job in the fields. I gave your father as much money from these games as I possibly could under the pretence that Wilkins was giving him extra pay. Your father was so trusting that he didn’t even ask why Wilkins was suddenly being more generous. I managed to keep at these card games for five years, playing in the taverns in Aelin. But I was getting too good and people were starting to refuse to play with me. Even the shadier places were starting to get wise to me. I despaired and my money started to dry up even with setting up card games with travellers to the area.”

  “After about a year, your father started to notice that I had less money. I was eating less and my clothes were threadbare. I had always taken pride in keeping my appearance tidy. I had to confess to your father that I hadn’t been working in the fields, I had been playing card games.”

  “Your father was furious with me for lying to him and for gaining money through gambling. He always prided himself on the fact that every penny he had owned was hard earned- which is why I didn’t tell him that I had secretly been giving him portions of my winnings. I didn’t want him to feel ashamed as well.”

  “But your father believed I could do the right thing. He went to Wilkins and begged for him to employ me. He agreed, although I didn’t find this out until later, to take a cut in pay so he would take me back.”

  “I was less than pleased at the idea of working for that man again but knowing how disappointed your father would be if I didn’t try, I agreed to start work that day. I lasted two years. I have no idea how. I think it was the idea that your father would feel ashamed of me again. His opinion was the only one that mattered that much.”