Relief gushed out of my mouth. Those were Jink’s snores. He was still alive.
I took a cautious step inside.
The only light within came through the open door and my eyes had not yet begun to adjust to the darkness. The room was musty and dank with an underlying scent of decay. Near the doorway, a huge black cauldron, even bigger than Fith’s, sat before a cold ingle.
I stepped to the ingle and peered into the cauldron. Traces of some sort of rancid broth pooled at the bottom. The stench was sickening, akin to Larque’s foul breath, and when I keeled back, my eyes focused in on the stone walls. I knew with no doubt what the hare feels within the talons of the falcon. I nearly dropped my sword.
“Good, strong bones,” Larque’s voice reverberated through my memory. She’d said that to me. “Good, strong bones.”
My knees disappeared. I struggled to stay on my feet. Hands shaking like a jelly, I spun around. Coming toward me through the darkness, was Larque.
Her eyes locked onto mine and I quailed. Wae, she was so beautiful. So beguiling.
“Are you hungry for me yet, Fane? I’m hungry for you.”
I forced my gaze away and shook my head clear lest she manage to bewitch me again. Keeping my eyes averted, I stepped forward, aiming my quaking sword at her breast. “Wake up, Jink,” I yelled. “Wake up now!”
His snores stopped and I heard his feet hit the floor. “Are you bloody crazy?” he shouted as he came to stand beside Larque.
“Keep away from her, Jink. She’s Ragg’s witch.”
Larque squealed and clutched onto Jink’s arm. “Don’t let him hurt me. He’s gone mad.”
“I’ve not gone mad, witch. I’ve come to my senses!”
Jink disappeared back into the darkness and in a moment, reappeared with his sword. Just as I began to feel relief, he darted forward and swung his blade. I reeled back and the nape of my neck stung. I spun around, facing Jink’s blade, its tip wet with my blood.
I swung my sword round to fend him off.
Our tilting was slow and deliberate for it seemed neither one of us had a heart for this.
“Put your weapon down and keep away from her,” Jink commanded.
Except for his sword, Jink was unrigged and defenseless. I could probably take him down if necessary, but I didn’t want to hurt him. He was obviously still under her spell. Behind us, Larque was laughing.
“Don’t listen to her, Jink. She’s the witch, I tell you. See how she’s turned us against one another. She was planning to kill us and eat our bones!”
“No. I don’t believe you.”
“Take a look at the walls, Jink. Look at the bloody, stinking walls, will you?”
He took a hesitant step back and darted a glance at the walls. As if seeing them for the first time, he lowered his sword and reeled backwards with a wail.
All about us the walls were ornamented with broken human skulls and tanned, leathery skins of men.
Like a wildcat, Larque snarled and hissed. From the corner of my eye I saw her leap. I swung about and … quite by accident, she was fordone. My sword had lopped off her head.
I froze in shock. The severed head rolled to rest at my feet. It began a most unearthly screech. Jink writhed in obvious pain.
The headless body stood before me. Hands clawed the air as if she were trying to climb. Blue flame spewed from the neck like a torch. There was no blood. Only fire.
Horror stricken, I could not move.
Jink dropped to his knees and clutched at his sides, his agonized wails competing with the witch’s ear-splitting screams. The fire continued to eruct from the headless body. At my feet, the head kept screaming. Larque’s wide-open eyes glared up at me and the force of that glare knocked me backwards to the floor and I landed in a sprawled heap.
Foul, reeking blue smoke enveloped the witch’s head and body. Abruptly the screeching stopped. In the sudden, eerie silence, the smoke dissipated. Larque was gone. Completely gone.
Shaking as with fever, I slowly hauled myself to my feet. Jink knelt motionless on the dirt floor. Had the spell been broken? I took a small, cautious step forward. “Jink?”
“Noooo!” He thrust his sword deep into the earthen floor before him with both hands, sinking it to the hilt. His head drooped forward and his body heaved in spasms. Then he fell to the floor, quite still.
Sword in hand, I rushed for him. “Jink, are you all right?”
He raised his bleary eyes to meet mine. Like a lost boy, he asked, “What have we done?”
I knelt beside him. “We have saved ourselves.”
He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
“She is dead and we live. We are saved.”
I helped him to his feet and took him out to the brook in an attempt to wash the lingering spell away before going back into the cursed cottage to retrieve his rigging. It took all my strength to draw his sword from the dirt, so deeply was it embedded. I took one last look at the dozens of monstrous trophies that hung upon the walls and began to tremble, unable to make my feet carry me back outside fast enough.
We stumbled through the woods, away from the meadow. Away from the witch’s cottage and the horrors it housed.
5
Jink
Dodging pine boughs, scuttling through the brackens, skipping over jutting roots and stones, our scrieve through the woods was a reckless blunder. Snorts brayed in protest. It was late afternoon already—we’d wasted the better part of our day at the witch’s lair.
I felt sick. I’d never killed anyone before and even though Larque would’ve killed us, it didn’t make any difference. I still felt sick.
The base of my neck burned where Jink had pinked it and drops of blood continued to spill down my shoulder, staining my shirt.
I couldn’t get the vision out of my brain—Larque’s head lying at my feet—those hateful eyes glaring up at me—her open mouth shrieking—Jink writhing upon the floor—and the witch’s body being consumed by that vile blue smoke. Would that I never witness anything so terrible again!
With the dying sun, our bodies could carry us no more and we finally collapsed within a copse of firs, panting and rubbing the cramps from our legs. My neck had stopped bleeding but still remained tender with a dull throb within. Above us, birds chirped their evening songs cheerfully and the sun began to set, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold. Patches of ryegrass and caraway graced the edge of the copse.
Gazing over at Snorts, my heart sank away in dismay. Our food pack was gone! It must have come loose during our harried flight, now lying lost somewhere behind us. It hadn’t contained much, but slim rations were still better than none at all.
“Our food is gone.” The grumble from my throat matched that of my belly.
“What do you mean, it’s gone?”
“The pack it was in fell off somewhere.”
Jink groaned and slapped at the stone beside him. “No bloody food? What else can make this day any better?”
I stared at the caraway, then studied the sky and the surrounding woods. How many of Ragg’s minions had heard Larque’s death cries? Would they come searching? “Do you think we dare build a fire?”
Jink surveyed the copse. “It might be a bad idea.”
“There’s no sign of anything giving chase. Just a small fire. Enough to roast the roots of that caraway.”
Jink eyed the plants then nodded. “A small fire might be all right. But we’ve got to be careful.”
“Of course,” I said. “We’re in Ragg’s territory now.”
“We’ve been in Ragg’s territory since we crossed the bloody valley.”
I tied Snorts to a tree and pulled together a handful of dried grass and twigs, then pulled my tinderbox from the saddle pack. From it, I withdrew a pouch of sulfur and resin infused matchsticks. Laying two sticks atop the kindling twigs, a single spark from my steel brought the fire to life.
I kept the blaze small, burning only dried woods, fearing to raise too much smoke,
while Jink unearthed the delectable roots. When the coals were ripe, we buried the fingerlings beneath them and doused the flames with dirt.
Before long, Jink put an end to the twilight silence. “She was the bloody witch. I can’t believe I failed to see that. Damn, Fane. Once I looked at her, I couldn’t see anything else. Nothing! I couldn’t see those bloody walls.”
“She bewitched us. We were helpless against her. We were just toys in her little games.”
“There’s no glory in being a bloody game piece.”
With a forked stick, I pulled the roots from the coals.
Staring only at the smoking embers, Jink whispered, “I would have killed you.”
“I don’t think you really would have.”
“Oh yes, I would have. She was evil. Pure, sweet evil, and I was ready to kill you for her. And the most horrible part was watching the bloody witch die.” He reached for one of the roots, juggling it as it cooled. “I think she tried to take me with her. I could feel her reaching inside me, as if she were trying to snatch out my soul. And for a brief moment, I think she actually did. I remember punching you, knocking you down, hating you for killing her. Then I was back inside myself again.”
I didn’t understand what he was saying. He’d been nowhere near me. He certainly hadn’t punched me. Yet something had knocked me to the ground.
I knew something agonizing had happened to Jink when I beheaded the witch, but had Larque truly tried to wrest his soul away?
“I didn’t mean to kill her,” I admitted. “I didn’t know what to do. I just knew we had to get away from her or she would kill us. I didn’t mean to kill her—it was an accident. I just swung my sword around and there she was, head coming off.” I was trembling again, my stomach clenching.
“She had a hold on my bloody soul, Fane.” Jink stared me straight in the eye. “She took it right out of my body, and even though I didn’t go with her, I’m beginning to think she came back with me.”
Now I was really confused. “What do you mean?”
“She’s in me. I can feel it. I can feel her inside me. I don’t know how much bloody power she has in there, but she is there.”
Certainly her spell on him had been strong, but she was dead. I didn’t know what he was feeling inside except perhaps a memory of her power. It would pass. With time, it would pass.
For a time we both just sat, staring at the smoking embers in the moonlight.
Eventually, Jink spoke again. “She hates you, Fane. She doesn’t want to be inside me, but it’s the only way she could bloody continue. She hates you and wants to see you dead.”
His words caused a tremble on my spine. If a part of her were truly inside him, what strength did it possess? We had succumbed to her powers so easily. Was Jink’s soul strong enough to contain her?
“Waesucks, Jink. You can’t let her take control. Fight it. The longer she is dead, the more her power will wane. Don’t you bloody give up on me.”
He grabbed his cloak from the back of Snorts, and curled up beside the dying coals. “I hope you’re right,” he whispered, closing his eyes.
We settled for the night and my fitful sleep was plagued with images of Larque and the hideous skulls and skins upon her walls. I dreamt that Jink hung upon one wall while I hung upon another as Larque danced around the cauldron, brewing a stew from our entrails. But we were still alive, though pinned helplessly to the wall. In the ingle, our burning clothes alighted the room and across the room hung my father and Kael and Fith and Rook and they were all dead, and Jink was dead, and only I remained alive and the beautiful, wicked witch came to me, wielding a bloody dirk, but she was no longer the witch. She was Jink! Jink, with talons for fingers, huge bat-like wings, and a serpent’s tail, and he reached up and scratched my face, whispering, “I want you, Fane,” with her soft, sweet voice and oh, how I wanted her then, and as she kissed me with Jink’s lips, putrid breath swept down my throat and the dirk plunged into my chest, ripping me wide open … .
Gasping, I awoke in a sweat, unable to sleep more.
The following day we worked our way further into the foothills of Skur. The air held a briskness alien to the valley floor, and despite my fur vest, only in the sunshine could I keep warm. In the distance, the mountain loomed before us. Surrounding pines whispered in the breeze like a hushed warning, and chattering blackbirds taunted.
Jink was quiet and withdrawn, lagging behind. Often I would turn and catch him eyeing me with a look not quite his own, and while the air chilled my skin, his look chilled my bones. There was an unspoken crustiness within him that lashed out unprovoked at the trees and brush we passed through. He drubbed and chopped at branches with his sword and kicked at tufts of grass and forbs, sometimes uprooting them needlessly. I had seen him angry, but never so petulant. Usually he’d always been a jolly dog, and I was beginning to think that it truly was Larque’s soul inside him making his mood so vile. His constant agitation began to grate on my nerves and I finally had to confront him.
“I would not think any less of you if you chose to act a little more cheerful.”
“I don’t think forced cheerfulness would be of any help to the foulness that’s growing inside me, Fane. She’s fighting to take hold of my bloody senses. Perhaps it would just be better for us both if I stayed behind.”
“If you want to stay behind, that’s your choice. As for me, I would prefer your company and hope you’ll continue on with me. But I can’t tolerate the pain she’s inflicting on you.”
“It’s not a physical pain,” Jink said. “But I wish it was. Physical pain I can deal with. And pain in my heart I can deal with. But this—this is something untouchable.”
My heart went out to him. He was trying to fight an enemy from within where no sword could reach. What he needed was magic, a magic strong enough to expel the madness inside him, but alas, I had only begun that study. My knowledge was so limited. Too limited. But perhaps not useless, for Fith had taught me that there were two different forms of magic. That which was real, and that which was merely perceived. I was not yet capable of performing much of the real, but perception can often be more powerful than reality.
I handed him the ass’s leader. “Hold onto Snorts for me.” I bent and pulled a clump of fleabane from the earth. “There are ways to drive this madness from your soul.” I tried to appear authoritative as I braided the greasy stems together, forming a long, unbroken chain. Then, for show, I withdrew my potion pouch and sprinkled the chain with the powder of devil’s bit, shouting the spell, “Il aheala erst mhertin!” (‘Demon begone!’ in the tongue of the Ancients.) One thing Fith had taught me was the value of flourish. A person could believe even the most mundane of spells to be powerful with the right amount of flourish. I stood and draped the fleabane chain about Jink’s neck. Gazing into his eyes, I clasped his shoulders. “I believe in the strength of your soul, Jink. So must you.”
His eyes were welled with tears and he fingered the braid. “There is power in this bloody amulet?”
I could not look him in the eye or my lie would be obvious, so turned away on the pretense of gathering more fleabane. “There is great power in the amulet.” But I knew the fleabane had little value against the enemy within my friend. He needed something much more powerful than a common herb hexed by a mere apprentice. Yet the idea of the amulet seemed to raise his spirits and we continued our trek unrankled until nightfall.
That night we camped in a tiny alcove beneath a sheer, rocky cliff. A boreal wind swept down, denying us the warming life of a fire. Under a cloudy night, we huddled beneath our cloaks against the cliff wall which offered little shelter from the wind’s icy bite. Jink nodded off quickly, as usual, but sleep eluded me. Snorts snorted in discontent and the wind screamed through the surrounding woods like an apparitional orchestra. In the blackness, I imagined dozens of beastly trolls, just waiting for sleep to overtake me so that they could carry me off to enslave me in their underworld.
The night sounds intensified,
as did the images conjured by my mind. Jink snored soundly beside me and I envied his fearlessness of the night. Never sure just why the darkness always caused me such discomfort, I quivered not from the cold, and was thankful that Jink was not awake to witness my fright. Taking some solace from his presence, I closed my eyes against the dreadful dark and tried to drive the hideous visions from my mind.
Sometime in the night, sleep did find me, and we awoke to a cold, calm dawn. My muscles ached.
“It’s going to be a bloody good day, Fane.” Jink bounded lightly to his feet.
His smile warmed my heart and I returned the smile to him. It was good to see him in high spirits again. Perhaps his belief in the false amulet had given him enough power to drive the witch out. I had to hope. “It’s going to be a bloody good day.” I forced myself to rise, trying to stretch out the kinks.
“Build us a fire, Sir Wizard. I’ll go fetch some victuals.” He disappeared into the woods, the wilted fleabane chain still wrapped about his neck.
I pulled my tinderbox from the pack and soon a small blaze danced in the morning light. Its heat felt good and I basked in the warmth, yesterday’s chill still with me. Before long, Jink returned with a partridge and her eggs and we filled our bellies on the treat before abandoning camp.
The foothills of Skur were either rocky, barren outcrops or congested with trees—there was no pleasant medium. At midday, we emerged from a dense thicket onto a wasted crest and Jink pulled the fleabane chain from his neck and tossed it aside.
“What are you doing?” I cried. Although I knew it was useless, he had believed in it and seemed revivified.
“I do not need it.”
“Has the witch been expelled?” My hopes were high, but Jink’s answer shattered that hope.
“No. She’s still here. She’s been laughing at your phony amulet, Fane. Taunting me for wearing it. I can’t take her bloody taunts anymore.”
I stared down at the discarded fleabane in dismay. It had caused strength to Jink’s soul at first, but Larque’s soul had won. Without true magic, Jink was doomed. He knew it. I knew it. And Larque knew it.
The Legacy of Skur: Volume One Page 6
