by Jo Spurrier
I shivered in the evening chill. I should probably go fetch her a rug, I thought. If I was damp and cold, Aleida must be chilled to the bone.
Mother hen, she called me when I fussed over her, bringing her milk warmed with honey and spices on cold mornings, or her cloak when we were working late at night. She didn’t understand — I’d spent most of my life looking after my little brothers and sisters, making sure they were warm and fed and happy. It was all I knew. Besides, she needed it. I’d never met anyone with a mind and will as strong as hers, but physically, she was rail-thin and quite weak. Frail, even.
I heaved myself up to go find a blanket, but when I stood, a flicker of movement overhead made me pause.
I stood still, head tipped back, gazing up at the dark sky. The patchy clouds from earlier in the day had thickened over the afternoon, and now there wasn’t much starlight to be had.
It could have been a bird, I supposed. Not an owl, though, for it wasn’t a flash of white I’d seen, but something much darker. A crow? At this hour? Aleida might keep one from its roost if she had a good reason to . . . but why, when she could just come back to her body?
My searching eyes found nothing. Just a trick of the eye, I told myself.
I turned back towards the tent — just in time to see something dark swoop towards me out of the black sky. I glimpsed red eyes and long glistening teeth, and curved claws, each one as long as my finger, spread wide and ready to rake across my head.
With a shriek I threw myself down, flinging hands up to protect my head, while above me came a screech and the leathery flap of wings as the creature changed course and flapped away.
Hastily, I pushed myself up and snatched my wand and knife from my belt. ‘Aleida!’ I said, hoping she could hear me. You could, sometimes, when you were borrowing. It depended on how hard you were concentrating on the beast in your grip. ‘Aleida, wake up!’ I even nudged her with my toe, but then I had to turn my attention back to the sky.
On the far side of the wagon, I heard Maggie snort and stamp her foot — and then she gave a nicker of fright.
‘Maggie!’ I shouted, and started towards her — but after only a few paces I stopped again. I didn’t dare leave Aleida here undefended.
Maggie snorted again, and then I heard the swishing of grass and the thudding of her huge feet, and she came trotting around the wagon towards me, ears flat against her head and her eyes showing their whites. There was a scratch on her neck, bleeding a thin trickle of blood, as black as ink in the dim light.
I was worried she’d trample Aleida, still lying prone in the grass, but I couldn’t grab for her halter without dropping one of my weapons. Aleida still hadn’t moved. ‘Wake up!’ I yelled again.
I heard the beast again, the leathery slap of wings, hidden in the darkness yet nerve-rackingly close — and then it landed with a thump on the roof of the wagon, and gave a screech that made me shudder and clench my teeth.
I’d heard a noise like that before. Months ago, when I’d first arrived at Black Oak Cottage, there’d been a . . . well, let’s call it an incident, where someone opened a rift from our realm into another one, a realm of smoke and ash and fierce heat, and hunger and rage.
I clenched the handle of my wand so tight my knuckles ached. ‘Well,’ I said. ‘You’re a nasty piece of work.’
The creature hissed as it clambered over the roof of the wagon. Its body was about the size of a large dog, with huge, leathery bat-like wings, tipped with claws that scraped and squeaked over the wood. It’s face — it’s whole body, actually, aside from those huge wings — put me in mind of a dog crossed with a monkey, though it had a long tail that lashed like a cat’s, and huge eyes that gleamed faintly red. The fangs in its mouth were as long as a viper’s. It clattered along the roof of the wagon and gave another shriek, a noise that made me want to clap my hands over my ears. Nothing in our world should make a sound like that.
It ranged back and forth along the roof of the wagon, its attention wavering between Aleida’s still form in the grass and me, a few yards away. As it perched at the edge of the roof, gathering its haunches beneath it, I ran the few paces to my teacher’s still form and raised my wand.
A spark of heat bloomed in my chest. It surged to my shoulder and down my arm, and the stone at the tip of the wand blazed with sudden light, blossoming to red and gold, a fireball that blazed through the air like a shooting star.
It struck just as the creature leapt, and with another shriek it twisted in the air, shying away so the fireball just grazed its shoulder instead of striking it full in the face.
I wasn’t thinking; I was just doing — my arm swung again, again, with each one a fresh surge of heat through my chest and down my arm. ‘Get out!’ I heard my voice roar. ‘Get out of here!’
As quickly as the creature ducked away from the first bolt, it climbed to evade the others. I’d borrowed bats, back home at Black Oak, I’d ridden with them while they hunted for insects at night. I’d seen for myself how dizzyingly agile they could be. For all its size, this beast ducked and weaved with ease, shrieking defiance as I sent more fireballs flying after it — until with one last screech it flapped away, climbing steeply upwards, and vanishing into the blackness of the night.
I stayed there, panting, breathing hard, heart thumping in my throat, not quite daring to believe it was gone, when a noise behind me made me jump almost out of my skin. I turned with a yelp, a fresh wave of heat setting my wand glowing again, to find Aleida heaving herself up.
She stretched, rolling her head to ease a stiff neck. ‘Dee? What’s going on?’ Then she saw the wand in my hand, still smouldering with a spark at its heart, and frowned. ‘All right, what’d I miss?’
My hands were shaking too much to cut the bread and cheese for our dinner, so Aleida did that while I told her about the bat-winged beast. ‘It looked like the things that came out of the rift back at Lilsfield. I mean, not exactly like them, but the same sort of thing. It wasn’t as big as the griffin we saw but it was still pretty damn big.’
Aleida just nodded along as she spread butter on the bread. ‘But you saw it off, you said? With fireballs? Well done. See, I knew you could do it if it came to the crunch.’
She was completely calm about the whole thing, so much so that I had the sudden sickening thought that she was just humouring me. ‘I really did see it,’ I said with a lump in my throat. ‘It was real, I swear it.’
She gave me an odd look. ‘Dee. Of course you did. I believe you. I know those things are real.’
I gulped hard. ‘Sorry. I just . . . while you were gone, I was thinking about back home at the farm. I was thinking about writing them a letter, and I realised they’d never believe a word of it. If I tried to tell them about that thing they’d probably say I imagined it, that it was just a regular bat and I got scared, or something stupid. They’d never believe what I saw.’
Aleida smiled to herself. ‘There’s a cure for that, you know. When you learn illusions, you can make one of the wretched things appear on the kitchen table. See how loud they argue with you then. Now, it didn’t actually touch you, did it? Those things have some real venom if they bite.’
‘No,’ I said. ‘There’s just that scratch on Maggie’s neck.’
‘I saw that, it’s nothing to worry about. I’ll go put some salve on it, you try to settle your nerves. Have a bite to eat. I’d better cast some wards, too, I suppose. If it’s alone it won’t come back; but there’s a chance it’s got some friends nearby.’
‘Friends?’ I squeaked. ‘How many of those things do you think are out there?’
‘Oh, not any serious numbers,’ she scoffed. ‘Or we’d have heard about it back in the town — and those bandits who attacked us would be a scattering of bones out in the forest.’ She passed me a wooden plate with bread, cheese and smoked sausage, and then picked up her staff to limp back outside.
Chewing a mouthful of crusty bread and sharp cheese, I followed her. ‘But where did it come from
?’
‘You know where, Dee,’ she cast over her shoulder, her voice sharp.
I cursed myself for asking a stupid question. ‘I meant, why? How? Another ridiculous prank?’
‘Ah, now you’re asking the right questions. It could be, I suppose. But it’s probably just an accident. Those things are like rats, they’re always searching for food. Always scratching and picking and squirming. If there’s a way through, they’ll find it. But rifts never stay open for long.’
She’d talked about rifts before, since we’d had to clean up after the one back at Lilsfield. They could be made deliberately, but more often it was a side-effect of certain types of magic, just like an outbreak of dysentery could be a side-effect of a bad choice in digging a latrine pit. ‘But . . . did someone let it happen? The person who brought the griffins? The one who turned that fellow into a horse?’ I found myself frowning then, remembering the mission she’d gone on before the sun set. ‘Did you find him, by the way?’ I’d been so worked up over the nether beastie that I’d forgotten to ask.
‘Oh, yes. Hiding in some deep thicket full of brambles. He’s coming. Dee, be quiet and let me get this done, would you? I need to get these wards sorted so I can have a rest before he gets here. This isn’t going to be easy.’
‘Yes, miss,’ I said. ‘Sorry.’ I went back inside, feeling rather crestfallen despite her praise over the wand-work. I should probably talk less and listen more, I thought. That’s what Ma always said. But I did wish I could have helped Aleida with the wards — she’d started to teach me about them, the spells of protection that would alert us if enemies came near, and could even place a shield over us if you had the time and the power to add that element to the spell. But usually she didn’t bother, so I hadn’t had much chance to practise.
I quickly finished the bread and cheese. It had been a long time since the pies at lunch, after all, and now that my nerves had settled, the effort of launching those fireballs had left me ravenous. I hadn’t realised that Aleida hadn’t prepared any food for herself when she’d made a plate for me, so I set her up a serving while I made seconds for myself, pausing briefly when I felt the wards go up. They felt like gossamer, like spiderwebs brushing over my skin.
She came back in while I was finishing my second slice of bread, and stopped, frowning. ‘Did you have more to eat?’
I froze, the bread a half-chewed lump in my mouth, and then hastily swallowed. ‘Yes? I-I’m sorry, should I not? We have plenty.’
She shook her head. ‘No, it’s not that. You can’t do big workings on a full belly, Dee. A little, yes, but not like we’ll have to do once the horse-fellow gets here. But it’s my fault, not yours. I should have told you.’
‘I . . . oh,’ I said, and set my plate aside. The food in my belly swiftly turned into a leaden lump. Quickly, I stood, turning my back to hide the heat in my cheeks and set about tidying the already perfectly neat tent, swallowing hard at the sudden lump in my throat. ‘I’m sorry, miss, I really am. If I’d known—’
‘Don’t worry about it,’ she said. ‘Like I said, not your fault.’
‘But I . . .’ I trailed off, my throat too thick and close to speak.
I could feel her eyes on my back. ‘It’s not worth going and sticking a finger down your throat, if that’s what you’re thinking.’
I stopped what I was doing and bunched my hands in my skirt. There was nothing to tidy or fuss with, anyway. We hadn’t been here long enough for anything to need straightening or setting aright.
‘Dee,’ Aleida said again. ‘Seriously, it doesn’t matter. We’re not likely to get this sorted out in one night. You’ll still be able to weigh in on the matter.’
‘It’s not that,’ I said, and with the words the tears I’d been holding back began to spill. ‘I just can’t do anything right today. Anything. First with the bandits, I knew I should have my wand out, but I . . . I just couldn’t stop thinking about what would happen if I couldn’t do anything with it. And then, at the abbey . . . believed every word Kara said, every single one . . .’
Aleida sighed. ‘All right. But what about the rest of it? That fellow at the forge? You jumped in right away to try and keep the situation under control — and then you knew at first touch that something was wrong. The bandits, yeah, you mishandled that one, but then, just before with the nether beastie, you managed that one just fine.’
‘So that’s what?’ I said. ‘Two out of five? That’s not good, no matter how you slice it. I just . . . I feel like such a fraud.’
‘A fraud?’ Aleida said, eyes narrowing. ‘Yeah, right. A fraud who can handle a critter from the nether realms with a solid round of fireballs. You’re such a faker, Dee.’
I thought quite seriously about snatching up a cushion and throwing it at her. ‘Is that your idea of how to make someone feel better?’ I snapped.
‘Well, I know anger’s better than self-pity,’ she said. ‘As for mistakes, well, there’s no avoiding them, in my experience. The trick is not to make the same one too many times. So, in that sense, I guess it’s good to get them all out of the way early.’
‘I’ll keep that in mind,’ I snapped.
‘Good. Now I’m guessing that poor sod from the forge will be with us before too long. Go get the circle set up, will you?’
I was fair seething as I laid out a circle with a length of rope and set out the candles and incense and so on. But by the time I was done I realised she had a point — that flash of temper really had driven away the swell of self-pity. On balance, I’d rather have had a hug than a poke with a needle, but she’d made it clear long ago not to expect any coddling from her.
I was just finishing the preparations when I heard a rustling in the darkness. The chestnut horse was picking his way towards our camp through the long grass. He held his head high, and his eyes showed white around the edges. He was scared, I realised. Terrified, maybe, and yet he’d come anyway. Well, I told myself, Chances are he’s got no hope in the world other than us.
‘Hello,’ I said, and because of my flared temper the word came out much more brusquely than I had in mind. ‘I’ll go tell my mistress you’ve arrived. Wait here, or if you’d like, go get a drink of water before we begin, the stream’s just down over there.’ I pointed, and he flinched back from the movement, tossing his head up again and flicking his ears back.
A little bit more of my anger melted away. ‘Don’t be afraid,’ I told him. ‘We won’t hurt you—’ I cut myself off, then. In truth I had no idea how it would feel to be turned from man to beast and back again but I could imagine it wouldn’t exactly be pleasant. ‘I mean, we won’t harm you; and we certainly wouldn’t send you back to the men who had you earlier. Go and get a drink, and then . . .’ It took me a moment to find the words. After what had happened with Kara earlier, I didn’t want to make promises I couldn’t keep. ‘. . . then we’ll see what’s to be done.’
By the time he returned, Aleida had come out, and I was going around the circle, lighting candles and incense.
The fellow was not in good shape. He was heavy-set for a horse, with a barrel chest and thick neck, built for strength more than speed. His coat was streaked with old sweat and mud and there were many cuts and scratches on his legs, some old, some fresh. There were a few scars across his back and shoulders, too, large ones, as though he’d been raked by long claws. Nether beast? I wondered, Or maybe one of the griffins?
‘Well then,’ Aleida said, looking him over. ‘You look like something the cat dragged in. Not been having a good time of it, have you?’ She stepped back then, waving him towards the opening of the circle. ‘All right then, in you go. Let’s take a look at you.’
He hesitated, leaning away from us with a glance towards the dark forest.
‘You’ve seen this sort of thing before, haven’t you?’ Aleida said. ‘Well, go on. What’s the worst that could happen?’
He gave a weary snort, and I knew then that he wasn’t going to run. He was too tired, too desolate. He
plodded through the gap in the rope, and swung around to face us.
At Aleida’s gesture I closed the rope circle.
‘Hold still,’ she told him. ‘This’ll take a few moments. Dee, go to south. Might as well try before we declare it a hopeless case. No, not you,’ she said when the horse snorted in surprise.
I did as I was told, but as soon as I drew my wand and knife and tried to summon power to assist, I realised it was hopeless. The food was a leaden lump in my belly, and I could no more draw up power than I could leap into the air and fly.
All I could do was watch as Aleida drew sigils in the still evening air to mark out the ritual space. Each one hung in the air, a glowing tracery of light, and the words drifting from her lips seemed to take physical form — there was a stream of mist coming from her mouth, twining its way around the circle and glowing like moonlight. The candle flames grew, stretching up until they were taller than the long white tapers that bore them. My skin prickled and my ears were ringing like a bell as the words of power reverberated in my head.
As a wall of energy rose up around the circle, I half-closed my eyes and steadied my breath, reaching inwards to a quiet place inside me. I was getting better at this part — when I first started learning Aleida would have to draw a sigil on my forehead with a ritual oil every time, but lately I’d found the trick of it. When I opened my eyes again, I could see the threads of power wrapped all around the unfortunate creature in the ritual circle.
Aleida sucked on her lower lip as she looked him over. ‘Hmm,’ she said, and slowly paced around him. When she stepped into the circle for a closer look, rippling lights appeared in the air around her, shimmering green and blue, pink and red. She paid them no mind as she peered at the threads of light wrapped around the beast, tracing them with her fingertips.
I wanted to ask her what she saw, what it all meant, but I’d made enough missteps for one day. I was determined not to make any more.
‘Hmm,’ Aleida said again, finishing her circuit. ‘Interesting. No hedge-witch behind this one, was it?’
