An Obstinate Witch

by E M Graham

  She shook out her hair, combing it with her hands. ‘Christ, I need to bathe, it’s been far too long,’ she muttered, then looked back over at me. ‘The Kin were not punishing me,’ she continued. ‘But harnessing my power to foresee the future. Until the Chronicle is finished, they cannot take it from me.’

  ‘So why can I? How am I able to hold the book?’ It weighed heavy in my bag, dragging my shoulder down.

  ‘Because it is mine still and I have given you permission.’ She drew herself up to her full height. I could hear the bones of her spine cracking as she stretched her arms out and overhead, yawning as she did so. ‘Until it is fully written, it belongs to me. When they cursed me, they failed to understand this basic law of nature, of publishing, if you will. The author owns all copyright, controls all that happens within their book, until it is set free into the world.’

  ‘So if you never finish it, you won’t die?’

  ‘When I die, it is finished,’ she replied enigmatically.

  ‘But why haven’t you just simply left with the book, if they can’t tie you down?’

  ‘Ah child, there’s the rub. The cunning Kin cursed the book, also,’ she said bitterly. ‘I could set quill to page, but never remove it from this place. That’s where they concentrated their defensive spells, weaving such a web that I couldn’t break it. Yet, in their own fear, they never dreamt that another would do so. You will break that curse. I, however, am still bound to the book, so must follow where ever it goes.’

  She laughed, a deep belly laugh this time and the dust danced in the faint light. ‘Oh the unseeing Kin. Hoist by their own petard,’ she said. ‘They didn’t have the genius to imagine another Meg. They teach their own children so well, filling them with the fear of me so that none would follow in my footsteps, yet they ignored this half-blood’s education, and brought her right to my own door-step. It is ridiculous, yet fitting.’

  Auld Meg had lost her years along with the dust, and the woman now standing before me could have been no more than forty, a witch at the prime of her powers, her hair glinting red under the flakes of rock she couldn’t shake out.

  ‘Now, come let us depart this loathsome hole. I long to breathe the night air and to worship at Athena’s feet once more. We have much to do, and miles to go.’

  She turned to leave the accursed chamber.

  ‘Wait!’

  The witch paused and looked back at me over her shoulder. She gave a grimace and stretched her neck muscles on either side, still working out the kinks from a century of sitting still.

  ‘My mother,’ I began, then gathered up the nerve. ‘How are we going to free my mother?’

  ‘Who said anything about freeing her?’

  ‘You did.’

  ‘Did I? I don’t recall that.’

  ‘But that’s why I’m here, the only reason I came down to your dungeon.’ A rage began to creep over me as I clutched the heavy book to my chest. ‘We need to do that. Or else... or else I’m not leaving with your Chronicle.’ I put my chin in the air and stood firm.

  Trevor’s jaw dropped at my boldness, and I was rather taken aback too. Here I was, Dara Martin, despised half-blood, challenging the wickedest, most legendary figure in the Kin, Auld Meg. She was plenty scary, but I was sick of someone else wanting to use my power. No, I was going to get what I came for, or the book would stay in the dungeon and Auld Meg with it. She could rot here, it wasn’t my problem.

  Meg drew herself up to her fearsome height, the dust and phosphorescence sparkling all around in the whirlwind she’d created. The flakes of stone cracked off, flying in all directions.

  ‘Child.’ her voice was terrible and echoed through the chamber. Gone was her nonchalant air. ‘You dare to defy me?’

  ‘You need me,’ I said. It was true. She couldn’t move outside the Vaults without my help. If I didn’t carry the book out of the room, then she would be stuck here forever. It hummed by my side. ‘And I’m not a child. I’m an adult witch. And blessed with the power of the Stone, you said so yourself. I don’t have to help you.’

  We were at an impasse and stared at each other through the whirling dust. It was a long moment.

  She was the first to crack. ‘It is not the time to rescue your mother,’ she said slowly.

  ‘Then it is not the time to release you from the curse,’ I shot right back at her. I made to return the Chronicle back to the table at which she had sat for the past century or more.

  ‘NO!’ This time her voice thundered with enough force to rock the whole structure of the Vaults. Nothing moved in the silence that followed except for the trickle of cement dust from the domed ceiling.

  The she gave a deep sigh. ‘Dara, please listen to me. The time is not right. There is so much to do before this,’ she waved her hand as if swatting a fly. But she was talking about my dream. My driving force. The whole reason I had ended up in this damn country in the first place. I was not letting go.

  I placed my satchel on the table’s surface, my fingers lingering against the warmth coming through the canvas fabric. It almost felt alive beneath my touch, and it caused an itching inside me like I wanted to open it and devour the power within.

  What I could do with the powerful secrets inside this book. She said herself that the way to the Ice Kingdom was written inside. But no, I couldn’t take the book, for that would free Auld Meg, and this was my only weapon I could hold over her. I looked up to see her eyes glittering in the last of the candle light.

  ‘We can do this,’ she said, weighing her words carefully. ‘If you insist. But I have to warn you, I cannot guarantee the outcome of this action. You place yourself in great danger.’

  ‘Surely with our combined power, no one can touch us. You said that yourself.’ What was she playing at? Did she have any intention of helping me? Yet, if she was planning to trick me, why bother warning me of danger, why not simply agree, and laugh in my face once we’d left the dungeon? My hand hovered uncertainly over the satchel’s flap.

  ‘True, but we don’t need to be causing difficulties for ourselves,’ she said waspishly. ‘Your mother can wait for a more auspicious time, she’s in no hardship at the court of the Ice King.’

  I stubbornly shook my head. ‘No. Not good enough. If you want me to join forces with you, then you have to prove to me that you mean it. Only once we have my mom back from there. Not before.’

  ‘You don’t realize what you are setting in motion by these demands.’

  ‘I don’t care,’ I repeated. What was the threat? I was blinded only by the overwhelming need to see my mother, hold her in my arms, smell the lemon scent of her soap.

  ‘Fine,’ she said in a voice which said it wasn’t fine, not at all. ‘Fine. We’ll do as you demand. You’ll take your mother back from the Ice King’s court, and then we’ll just have to pay the consequences and clean up the mess afterwards.’

  I nodded. Her words made me feel just the tiniest bit apprehensive, as they were designed to do, but I was not going to let her manipulate me. I was bargaining with a powerful witch, and I had to use the upper hand while I still had it. ‘How do I know I can trust you?’

  Auld Meg looked flabbergasted. ‘You don’t know. None of us know if we can trust another. But if I give you my word, then that should do it,’ she said, then her tone softened. ‘Dara, we’re on the same side, you and me. No need to fight it.’

  I had to leave it at that, and hope she wasn’t lying to me. For after all, she said she needed me, too, and if she betrayed my trust, I could easily withdraw my assistance. I hefted up my satchel over my shoulder again and nodded. ‘Alright, then. Let’s go.’

  Meg hesitated. ‘It really would be a better idea to do the mother rescuing thing at a later date,’ she began, but when she saw my vigorous head shaking, she shrugged and gave up the battle. ‘Have it your way, then, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. I have to follow where you go, since you’re the one with the Chronicle.’

 
‘We will need a third witch, of course,’ she added.

  ‘A third... But why? We’ve got more than enough power between the two of us, surely.’

  ‘No, we need the triangulation,’ she answered decisively. ‘Hasn’t Nachtan taught you anything about Pythagorus yet?’

  I stared in dismay. A third witch, she was surely asking for the impossible. I thought quickly. Hugh was out of town, and I doubted he would help at any rate. Nachtan was out of the question.

  There were those Kin kids we’d seen in the bar the other night, perhaps I could go and introduce myself and convince one of those bored trust-fund babies to risk their lives and future... As if. But I didn’t know any other witches here in Edinburgh.

  Except Fergie. My mind went quickly through the pros and cons of getting my (ex) friend involved. She had foresworn the Kin, but I could tell from the glamour about her that day that she hadn’t given up magic practice altogether. And I knew where she lived.

  ‘Alright,’ I said, knowing full well I could be dragging Fergie to a ruined future. But there was a lot at stake.

  MARGARET STRODE TO THE DOOR of the chamber, no longer an ancient crone but a powerful witch, yet she was unable to move through the portal until I did so. Once through the door, though, I could feel her relax and she easily took the stone stairs up into the open air.

  She walked through the endless dark corridors of the Vaults with no fears, treading the stone halls like a queen in her court. She held herself straight and her shoulders back. None of the apparitions or creatures of the dark dared approach her.

  We came finally to the entrance portal which the troll was no longer guarding, since he was drunkenly snoozing in the corner again. She looked down her nose with disgust, but passed to the exit without comment. Once outside, she drew a deep breath, her face turned up to the almost full moon. ‘I’ve missed you,’ she purred, then shook her full hair again so the air became fraught with dust in the beams of silvery light.

  I led them down the Cowgate, over to the part of town where I knew Fergie lived. We kept to the shadows as much as we could, but there were no signs of Cromwell’s Uncommon Forces. Had they given up for the night? Perhaps I’d just been too paranoid. Too late, now that I’d gone and freed Auld Meg from her dungeon.

  ‘For the interdimensional travel,’ I said to Margaret as we walked. ‘Do we need to go back up to Arthur’s Seat?’

  ‘What, here in Edinburgh?’ She shook her head. ‘That will never do, no. There are far too many Kin around these parts, and it’s too close to the Covenanters.’ We scurried to keep up with her as she strode along, whisking her long skirts out of the way impatiently. ‘I really need a change of costume,’ she muttered, then stopped and sized me up, drawing up her nose at my jeans and hoody.

  ‘No,’ she continued walking. ‘We’re not the same size. Your clothes simply will not fit. Thank God.’

  ‘So where?’ I pressed her, ignoring her implied insult. ‘If we can’t do it around here, how will we get there?’

  She stopped again to think, her finger on her lip, then she nodded. ‘I know the perfect place.’

  ‘Where?’ I asked urgently, but she brushed me aside.

  We were getting close to Fergie’s flat, and I found myself hoping she wasn’t home. But we heard the party even before we turned the corner. Of course the noise was coming from the top floor, from Fergie’s place.

  I stared and looked up. ‘Our third witch,’ I said.

  Margaret looked up doubtfully at the source of the racket that bounced off the stone walls of the buildings surrounding us. Shadows thronged at open windows and a steady thump-thump of bass emanated from the top story.

  ‘Needs must,’ Margaret muttered. The front door was wide open, so I led the way.

  The party spilled out of the flat and down the stairs, perhaps the whole building was getting into the fun. I pushed through the crowd, followed closely by Margaret and Trevor. At the top, I couldn’t see anyone for the mass of people. I had no idea if Fergie was even here.

  Until I heard the shriek of laughter cutting above even the loudspeakers turned all the way up to eleven on the volume dial. I quickly pushed my way through the throng, for there was only one person I knew who could make laughter sound like the squealing of a cut pig.

  There she was in the living room. Fergie, standing amongst a crowd of students, all equally with their sails in full hoist. The guys had the unmistakeable air of hard core future engineers, while the girls appeared to be on a ‘80’s throwback party all of their own, the tarty glitter on their eyes fighting for attention with the massive piles of hair on their heads. Fergie, in her too-tight spangled tube top and red curls puffed out to their fullest, looked a little askew, as if her glamour had slipped a tad. Her bloodshot eyes showed she had been imbibing various substances for hours.

  I stopped. It still wasn’t too late. Until it was.

  ‘Dara!’ She welcomed me with an ear splitting scream. ‘O-M-G! Is that really you? Never knew you were here in town too!’

  She didn’t question my appearance at her party.

  ‘Fergie,’ I said, without exclamation marks. ‘You don’t know how happy I am to see you.’

  I really meant it, no matter that she’d hurt me by leaving Scarp so suddenly without even a hug good-bye. We hugged this time, and I drew her aside. ‘Come over here,’ I said. ‘I have... some friends I want you to meet.’

  I had passed the point of no return.

  17

  ‘THIS IS MARGARET AND TREVOR.’ I bit my lip.

  Fergie first noticed Margaret in her full Edwardian Lady regalia.

  ‘How do you do?’ she said with an exaggerated curtsy. “Love the dress. Where’d you get it?’ She then turned to the third member of our party and faltered.

  ‘This is Trevor,’ I said quickly. I threw a pleading look at Margaret. Surely to God she could see that Fergie was in no state to be our third witch.

  She shrugged and said in a sotto voice, ’She’ll sober up by the time we get there.’

  Meanwhile Fergie had withdrawn the hand she’d held out, staring at Trevor with appalled fascination. ‘Dara,’ she said in a stage whisper. ‘I need to tell you something.’

  Trevor drew himself up to his small height with a frown and ignored Fergie as much as he could. I could see his feelings were hurt by her reaction, and there was going to be a lot of smoothing of ruffled bristles in our near future.

  I bundled her in through the door marked with her name done in glitter glue.

  ‘Dara,’ Fergie slurred, still staring at the door which I’d just slammed behind us. ‘I hate to tell you, but your boyfriend is a goblin.’ She mouthed the last word, like some people mouth the word ‘sex’.

  ‘He’s not my guy,’ I said firmly. ‘Now, I need your help with something.’

  She sat on the bed, tucking her short glitter skirt in and finished off the bottle of beer she still clutched in her hand. ‘Oops, time for another drink!’

  ‘Never mind that for now,’ I said. And sat on the bed beside her. How to begin? ‘I never expected to see you here in Edinburgh, Fergie.’ I was really pleased. Not just because she was my possible third witch, but she was my friend. ‘How did you end up here? I thought you might be going back home to Glasgow.’

  She beamed. ‘I got into a hairdressing course,’ she replied, and with her hand tossed back her helmet of hair, which didn’t actually move. ‘It’s all I’ve ever really wanted to do, you know, add a bit of glamour to the girls on their special nights. I’m going to open my own, exclusive salon one day.’

  She really was much happier away from the Kin snobberies of Scarp, and I was delighted for her.

  ‘Y’know,’ she said as she leaned closer. ‘I felt bad about leavin’ you. But everything was so weird, y’know? After that night? The Kin were weird, you were weird. Scarp was really, really weird.’ She snorted with laughter now that the weirdness was so far away in time and distanc
e.

  ‘So Dara, how ‘bout you?’ Fergie leaned back on her elbows on the unmade bed and tried to focus on my face. ‘Whatcha doin’ here in town? Thought you’d be stuck on that horrible island.’

  I shrugged. ‘I’m studying at the castle,’ I said. ‘Special lessons.’

  Her face clouded with incomprehension. ‘The castle? There’s no school there, just the Venerable Nachtan...’ Her eyes bulged in astonishment and she only slurred her words a little. ‘No! You’re never! OMG.’

  ‘Yeah, don’t know if it’s punishment or special treatment because of, you know, the Stone and all that.’

  She looked at me with new, albeit very drunken, respect. ‘You’re my friend, and you’re... Oh my,’ she said. ‘I know someone who’s studying under the VN!’ She looked around the bedroom as if searching for someone to share her news with.

  I placed my hand on her arm. ‘Don’t tell anyone! I’m actually not supposed to be out past curfew,’ I confessed. ‘But, Fergie...

  ‘Wha?’ she beamed at me. ‘O-M-G you’re glowing, just like before. It’s that time of the month for you, isn’t it?’ This witticism sent her off into cackles of laughter, until the meaning of what she’d just said washed over her. The laughter trailed away to an uncertain note. I had to act quickly.

  ‘Fergie, I really need your help in something.’

  ‘Me? You need my help?’ She leaned back in her chair, pride and wariness battling in her drunken haze, then she must have made an internal decision to dismiss the niggling voice in the back of her mind. ‘I’m really sorry ‘bout Scarp, but I want to make it up to you. I will do anything for you, Dara, anything. Just tell me, and I’m in.’ She drained the bottle once again, in hopes to get the very last drops. ‘Anythin’ I can.’

  The music in the next room turned up a notch, if that was even possible, and leaning over to whisper in Fergie’s ear, I began.