Thalgor's Witch

by Nancy Holland

  “I’m sorry. I know you hoped for more.”

  After a long silence, he said, “I found the witch’s circle, too. You used it recently.”

  “To perform the ritual for the dead.” She took a deep breath and looked out among the trees. “I gave the child my mother’s name.”

  Thalgor nodded. “That is good. She was a witch.”

  Erwyn made soup from the remains of the stew for their dinner.

  “You are stronger?” Thalgor asked her when he returned from scouting the woods to find her cooking.

  “Yes, but not yet strong enough to walk all the way to the camp.”

  “If they have not moved on without us,” he commented glumly.

  “You said they would not.”

  He hunkered down beside the fire. “Who knows what men will do during the dark time? The wandering is hard. But to stay in one place is to invite attack from all the other bands as they wander, and gives us almost no chance to make raids of our own.”

  “Why do you need to raid? You take no slaves to sell.”

  “For livestock, goods, and food. For women, children and old men to help with the work of the band.”

  “But then the band grows too large and must divide.” Erwyn shook her head. “It doesn’t make sense, Thalgor.”

  “It never makes sense to kill. But it is what we have always done. And to sit during the dark time and wait to be attacked is harder on my men than the wandering.”

  Erwyn took the handle of the spoon she’d used to stir the soup and drew a circle in the dry dirt under the lean-to.

  “What if you did not have to worry about attacks? What if your men could spend the dark time hunting and tanning hides and making weapons and doing all the other work that interferes with planting and tending crops in the warm time?”

  “How would that be possible?”

  She traced the same circle. “Inside a stone wall.”

  He looked at the circle she drew and traced it with his finger. “The stones from the ruins. Four high would be taller than a man. And they are wide enough for a man to stand on.”

  They talked about the whys and hows through dinner and until late in the night, both more excited as each part of the plan fell into place like the stones with which they would build their new way of living.

  Finally the fire burned low and they curled up together by Felyn, well-fed and contented as lambs in the warm time sun.

  “The hard part,” Thalgor said as they ate at midday the next day, “will be convincing the others. Batte sees himself as a warrior first, which means he is certain to object. Gurdek likes safety and a full belly. He and Sett will be easier to convince.”

  “And Rygar. He will have the whole dark time to tell his stories and help the children learn them.”

  Thalgor smiled. “I will go to the ruins today to see about a water source and find a site that can easily be defended.”

  “We could move the stones, if need be.”

  “No. Or not far. They are too large. It would take more oxen and men than we have. The camp would be left without enough warriors to protect it.”

  He returned later with the hopeful news that two springs fed the stream that ran by the ruins and the flat ground around them would be easier to defend than many warm-time camps.

  It was raining again, and the fire had gone out while Erwyn and Felyn napped. With a hefty sigh, Thalgor took some of their store of dry wood to build a new fire. But he could not get it to light in the damp air. He grumbled and cursed, and finally told Erwyn they would have to settle for a cold dinner.

  Without thinking, she moved closer to the fire he’d laid. She pointed one finger at a twig and a small spark appeared. She set flames on two or three of the other pieces of kindling. When Thalgor let out a low whistle, she realized what she had done.

  “Magic!” Felyn clapped her hands.

  Erwyn had never realized she feared her magic might be taken from her because she had been willing to kill. But now it had been returned to her, she knew that fear had cast a darkness over every day since the renegade’s death and turned all her other sorrows into black despair.

  Jubilantly she threw her arms around Thalgor’s neck. He embraced her and kissed her face. Then they both froze and stared at each other for a moment. Their lips met in a kiss of a very different kind.

  Since Thalgor had come, he had touched her to comfort her or when their bodies huddled together for warmth. But this kiss held both passion and promise. Erwyn settled into it with a sigh, as Thalgor groaned with a need they both knew would have to wait. They ended the kiss with shared reluctance.

  “So, are you strong enough to go back tomorrow?” Thalgor asked her after they ate.

  “With the help of my staff, if we go slowly.”

  He took the staff she pulled from beside the fallen tree. He ran his hands over the finely carved surface first, then held the head near the fire to see it more clearly.

  “The Witch King,” he said solemnly.

  “He guards me. Guards us.”

  “Yes,” Thalgor agreed, “but why?”

  *

  Thalgor always found it a challenge to lead men in wandering and in battle. He soon found it even more of a challenge to lead them on a path that might mean an end to both.

  At first his lieutenants argued in ways opposite to the ones he had expected. Gurdek’s first reaction to the plan to live always behind a wall was to insist that the risk of staying in one place could not be offset by the protection the wall might offer. Batte, for his part, liked the idea of having a wall to retreat behind after they made raids.

  When Thalgor explained there would be no need for raids, Batte rejected the whole plan outright, with the full support of Tynor and their men. Gurdek, for his part, saw that if they did not raid, others might never find their walled camp and would have no need for raids of revenge if they did. After Thalgor took them to the place where the stones were, and Gurdek saw how high the wall would be, he embraced the idea whole-heartedly, as did Sett and their men.

  Which left Thalgor, he noted with a weary sigh when they returned to the camp, right where he began. With his lieutenants at loggerheads and a potentially divided camp.

  *

  Erwyn recovered slowly, but was well enough to sit at council and listen to the men argue day after day. She understood Thalgor’s reluctance to move ahead with his plan while Batte opposed it, but she had sacrificed so much to save the band it was like a new wound to see them in a constant turmoil that put their collective future at risk.

  She explained to Gee and Tya how the end of wandering would make the women’s lives easier and keep their men alive. Gee spoke in turn to the old women, Tya to the young ones and her mother, her mother to the other women with families.

  She did not mean it so, but Erwyn soon noticed that the women talked to their men, their sons, their brothers about the plan. Slowly even Batte’s men began to ask him why raiding was more important than peace.

  “This is the witch’s work,” Batte grumbled at council. He cast Erwyn a dark look. “She bewitches my men as she has bewitched Thalgor.”

  “She speaks only to the women,” Rygar pointed out.

  “And gives them the power to charm the men in their beds, as she does our leader.”

  “And as Dara does you,” Gurdek added.

  Batte’s face turned red and his hand flew to the knife at his belt.

  For a moment everyone held their breath. But Tynor put his hand on his leader’s shoulder. Batte, who had half risen from his seat, sat back down again.

  “And as the marauder’s midwife charms you,” Tynor said amiably to Gurdek. “It is the common lot of men.”

  “Only she is a witch,” Batte hissed.

  “A witch who has saved us all more than once,” Sett noted.

  “Yes,” Batte agreed, “saved us to imprison us behind this wall of stone so we will be unable to flee when the witches set upon us.”

  “When have witches attack
ed men?” Rygar asked.

  “There are legends…” Tynor began thoughtfully.

  “The legends also say witches are all women to keep them from mounting a battle against men,” Rygar reminded them all.

  “Their magic depends on their refusal to kill,” Thalgor said. “Your fears are foolish, Batte. I suspect you know that.”

  “To be shut up within stone walls seems like weakness to me.”

  “Will you go against the wishes of your own men for peace?” Thalgor asked him.

  “They wish for peace from their women,” Tynor replied with a wry laugh.

  “We do not all live for fighting, as Batte does,” Sett said with his quiet authority. “Some of us would rather grow food, or raise livestock, or teach our young, or study the skies.”

  “He’s right,” Rygar nodded.

  The others followed suit, even Tynor.

  Erwyn saw on his face the moment when Batte recognized he had lost, but she also knew him well enough to expect at least another day of argument before he agreed. With a sigh, she went to tell Tya the men were ready to eat.

  *

  Ponderously, like a woman about to give birth, the camp stirred itself to prepare for what most truly hoped would be its last move.

  Thalgor felt like the expectant father, responsible for the crisis but dependent on others to do the necessary labor.

  As a result, he felt the need to be everywhere at once, to make decisions, to draft plans, and always to talk to people.

  He listened to their questions and complaints, and told them over and over why he thought the move would be good for them all. It was like an endless but bloodless battle, with victory very far off and equally uncertain.

  So many days in the same camp, even during the dark time, meant things and routines had gotten set in place that now must be dismantled and resettled in a spot closer to the stones. The women put down roots faster, and their children clung to a familiar routine, so most of the price of the move fell on them. That freed the men to go in groups to prepare the stones to protect their new home.

  Some of the men remembered old talk handed down from before their fathers’ fathers’ fathers about how to build with stone. Others seemed to have a natural feel for what it would take to move the great blocks, and what it would take to fix them in place. Gurdek quickly chose several of the best from both groups to lead the others in planning and building the wall.

  Rygar was assigned the task of working with those who knew most about livestock to locate food sources for their herds and find ways to preserve and store fodder. Some remembered talk about how that once was done, too, and even how to build wooden pens to shelter livestock in the deepest days of the dark time.

  Batte, who had reluctantly agreed to what he still clearly regarded as a foolish plan, was put in charge of developing a smaller, more highly trained cadre of guards that could also serve as a raiding party. He appointed two new captains from among the best warriors, and talked at night to Rygar and the very old men who remembered stories about how battles were fought when the ancient cities still stood.

  The dark time was when babies were usually made, not born, so with Tya to help Gee, who had developed a cough no magic could cure, Erwyn could take the time to heal fully from her loss.

  At Thalgor’s urging, she also spent more time with Felyn, to help ease the mental wounds they both had suffered from the renegade’s attack. The girl found the idea of the move exciting enough that she began to talk almost like a normal child, although a single frown or harsh word from any of them could still silence her for the rest of the day.

  Thalgor returned from the ruins one night when the first breath of the warm time was in the air to find the tent dark and silent. Alarmed, he burst in through the door. His household sat around the council table. Everyone but Gee, who lay on it, a ghostly rattle as she breathed the only sign she lived.

  “We waited for your voice, Thalgor,” Rygar said.

  “Her body is worn out,” Erwyn explained. “I can free her breath and she will live, but I can’t see how long. Or I can ease her death now.”

  Thalgor wanted to roar, to cry, to run, but four faces filled with tears looked up at him. One drop fell from Rygar’s eye, as if he had waited for his brother’s return to let his grief show.

  How was Thalgor supposed to decide such a thing? He decided whether men lived or died each day, one way or another, but the only question then was what was best for the band he led. How could he decide what was best for those he cared about most? Or for Gee, the woman who had cared for him even after he murdered her brute of a son?

  “What say you all?” His voice was already thick.

  Felyn’s response was a sob as she threw herself across Gee’s inert form. The child had lost already both mother and aunt.

  Erwyn lifted the girl into her arms and rocked her even as she said for herself, “She will not live long.”

  Tya held Rygar’s hand and whispered, “Life is always best.”

  Rygar sighed and clasped her hand more tightly. “I know what it is to be made to live against your body’s wishes.” His voice was rusty with unshed tears. “I was young, strong, and in love, and I suffered. She is …” His voice broke. Tya put her free hand on his shoulder.

  Gee was Rygar’s grandmother, Thalgor remembered with a start. A blood tie he had chosen to forget. His own grandmothers had both disappeared the same night he and his mother had been captured. He didn’t know to this day whether they still lived or not. But he knew what a grandmother was.

  A cold wind blew around the tent. Thalgor took the single torch and lit the brazier nearest where the others sat.

  Erwyn started to protest, but even before the first puffs of smoke appeared, Gee gave one great gasp. Her back arched up, then fell back down. The rattle of her breathing ceased.

  “She chose for herself,” Erwyn said.

  They all nodded. Tya kissed Rygar’s cheek, now wet with tears. Erwyn handed the weeping Felyn to Thalgor, who held her awkwardly. Then Erwyn and Tya began to prepare Gee’s body.

  Tya’s mother came soon with a meal none of them felt like eating. As word spread slowly through the camp, women gathered in the tent to help, each with a story of Gee’s kindness and quiet wisdom.

  Felyn finally slept. Thalgor laid her in her bed, then went to Rygar.

  “I must walk once more around the camp tonight, Brother.”

  He spoke quietly, so no one else could hear.

  “I’ll go with you, Brother,” Rygar said in a watery voice.

  They walked in a silence broken only when one or the other of them spoke to the guards or responded to condolences from those who knew of Gee’s death.

  As they returned to the tent, Rygar commented quietly, “Orphans both now.”

  “Orphans.” Thalgor grasped his arm in a warrior’s salute. “But never alone. Sleep here tonight.”

  “I will.”

  The tent was dark once more when they entered, the main chamber empty. Someone, probably Tya, had made up a pallet for Rygar near the door. By it sat a cup of tea. Thalgor lifted the cup and sniffed the wisp of steam that floated above it.

  “From Erwyn. For sleep.”

  Rygar took the cup and drank it all.

  They sat together, quietly talking about the move, until Rygar yawned deeply.

  “Bed,” he murmured and lay down on the pallet.

  Once assured he truly slept, Thalgor crept into the chamber he shared with Erwyn. She stirred as he slid beside her.

  “Rygar asleep?” she asked drowsily.

  “Yes.” His voice felt, and sounded, empty. “Thank you.”

  “Would it help to talk?” She turned to lay with one arm across his bare chest.

  “No.” He raised his hand to the breast pressed against him. “It would help to touch.”

  He had not had the solace of her body since she lost their child. He felt her hesitation and pulled his hand away.

  But Erwyn sighed and put it back aga
in. The nipple hardened beneath the fabric of her gown.

  “Kiss me, Thalgor.” Her breath in his ear flooded his body with a hot, heavy need and, under the need, a yearning he could not name. He ran his hands down her body, then up under her gown and slid it off over her head. Only when they lay skin to skin did he kiss her, claiming her mouth with the same delight he would her body.

  His hands stroked her eagerly. Although she was still too slender from her illness, her hips had grown wider with the child she carried, her breasts rounder. The contrast between bone and muscle and soft flesh added more excitement to his exploration of the new, yet familiar paths to passion between them.

  When the passion reached its peak and he plunged into her the final time, he felt a wholeness he’d never known existed.

  *

  Healed in a new way by her re-awakened passion with Thalgor, Erwyn spent her days as he did, overseeing the work of the move and reminding the women of how much better the change would make their lives and those of their families.

  Tya took over what little of Gee’s work she did not already do, and consoled the grieving Rygar as best she could while maintaining the propriety necessary to her youth.

  Felyn began to form friendships with some of the other girls her age. With Gee’s loss, first Tya’s mother, then the other women began to invite her to play with their children. Erwyn would see her at a distance, running and laughing like any other child.

  She was more than glad for the girl’s innocent happiness, but troubled by the curse that still hung over her.

  The loss of her own child made the girl she once blamed for her parents’ deaths unexpectedly dear to her. Once they were settled in their new home, she would ask Thalgor to let her take the girl, an ox, and Rygar, or one of the other men, north to the Wise Witches. If they were unmoved by her own pleas, perhaps the beautiful child with her cursed eyes would convince them to weaken or remove the curse. Or at least to reveal its nature.

  Thalgor would argue, of course, but to leave without his blessing was no longer a choice. He was not only her fate but her other half.

  Although they would probably continue to argue all their lives, an irrevocable breach between them was unthinkable now. Their passion fed her strength, and her need for him filled her heart. She had never imagined such a oneness between two bodies, two minds.