Witchlanders

by Lena Coakley

  When the greeting was finished, all but the older woman followed the girl’s lead and sat down on the ground. Pima scrambled into Ryder’s lap.

  The older witch gestured to the girl in white. “This woman is the Right Hand of Aata,” she said, confirming what his mother had told him. “She has joined us only recently, but already she has become our greatest boneshaker. It is our honor that she has left the Dunes coven where she was born and has chosen to study with us.”

  Dunes coven. Ryder knew of it. It was near Tandrass and the sea—she had seen the ocean, this girl.

  “Aata’s Right Hand will not speak to you, and you must not address her directly,” the older witch continued. Already Ryder didn’t like this woman. Her eyes were small and pitiless, and her lips were a tight, angry line. “My name is Visser. I am one of the six coven elders, and I am authorized by them and by Sodan, our coven leader, to make any decisions in the matter Mabis has brought before us.”

  As she spoke, Visser edged in front of the girl in white. Was she protecting the young witch, Ryder wondered, or making it clear that she was in charge? She did not introduce Kef, but he sat cross-legged by the tent flap, giving her his full attention.

  Visser went on. “I hope you are feeling better now, Mabis.”

  Mabis seemed taken aback by the question. “I’m fine, thank you.”

  “All day Aata’s Right Hand has thrown the bones and considered your words.” Something in the woman’s icy tone told Ryder what she was about to say. “You will be happy to know, I’m sure, that she saw absolutely nothing.”

  The tent fell silent. It was just what Ryder had wanted them to say, and yet he hated to see the hurt astonishment on his mother’s face.

  “You should have left your bones in the coven, Mabis,” Visser said, “where a true witch could have used them.”

  “Visser!” Kef said in surprise. The older witch gave him a withering look, and he lowered his eyes.

  “It’s all right,” said Mabis. The shocked dismay she had shown just moments before was gone, replaced by a frosty calm. “I remember Visser well. Even as a child, she could curdle cream with that tongue of hers.” So they knew each other. Visser had given no indication of that. But of course they would have; Mabis had grown up in the coven.

  Visser’s anger flared. “I remember you, too, Mabis. I remember that much was made of your talents, but even then you had no discipline for prayer, no true heart for the teachings of Aata.”

  “Prayer seemed irrelevant during the war.”

  “Blasphemy!”

  “Enough!” It was Dassen. Ryder was surprised by his vehemence. “Mabis, hush. This is a holy woman.”

  “Holy woman,” Mabis muttered. “If you knew what I know, Dassen . . .”

  “And you,” he said, turning to Visser. “Have you forgotten who her sister was? We would have lost the war if it hadn’t been for Lilla Red Bird.”

  Visser seemed momentarily flustered at the mention of the name. Ryder had never met his aunt, but he’d heard the stories. Lilla’s prophecies had been crucial during the war, or so it was said, and she hadn’t been content to hang back with her bones while others did the fighting, either. She’d insisted on leading attacks herself, and even after the war was over, she and others like her had hunted down blackhairs until every one of them was scoured from the Witchlands.

  “Lilla Red Bird was a great witch,” Visser said finally. “But having a famous boneshaker for a sister is no guarantee of talent.”

  Dassen frowned. “I mean no disrespect to you and to Aata’s Right Hand, but if Mabis says there are Baen coming, surely we should all err on the side of caution. We villagers can take up arms, prepare—”

  “Baen?” said Visser, raising her eyebrows in mock surprise. “Mabis has told us nothing about the Baen.” She looked from one person to another, and a smirk appeared on her lips. “Mabis, you should share your prophecy with these good people.”

  Ryder looked to his mother, but for some reason she hesitated.

  “Visser, please.” Kef spoke softly from the corner.

  The older woman ignored him and pressed on. “Tell them.”

  Mabis drew herself up haughtily. “A walking grave. It comes up out of the ground. It swallows whole farms.”

  Ryder started. This was new. Hadn’t the prophecy been something about an assassin? An assassin in the mountains?

  “What do you mean?” said Dassen. “Is it an earthslide, a ground shaking?”

  Mabis stood up and began pacing the inside of the tent like a caged animal. “Oh, I know it sounds ridiculous—don’t you think I know? But my visions are so clear.”

  “Tell them,” said Visser again.

  Ryder’s mother turned to the group, her eyes fierce. “A monster,” she said. “A monster that comes up out of the ground.” She stared into space now as if she could see her vision in front of her. “Death himself is coming to the village.”

  Ryder’s face went hot. A monster? She had called witches down from the mountain for this? She had neglected her children and ignored the farm for this? Pima turned around in his lap and gave him a searching look. “Don’t worry,” he whispered. “It’s not real.”

  “I know it sounds strange,” Mabis began. She looked from one face to another. “Skyla, Ryder, you believe me. . . .” Skyla frowned and looked at her knees; Ryder didn’t meet her eye.

  Finally Kef leaned forward. “You’ve been told that your prophecy was false,” he said gently. “Be glad of it! What you saw was a horrid vision. Be glad it is only . . . sickness that makes you see these things.”

  Ryder expected anger from his mother, but when she answered there was only surprise and disappointment in her voice. “Sickness? After all I went through during the war . . . this is what the young think of me in the coven, that I’m sick?” Mabis let out an exasperated breath. “Things are worse there than I thought.”

  “I believe you.” It was the tavern keeper who spoke. Ryder stared at him. Was he serious?

  “I know you do, Dass,” Mabis answered.

  Ryder looked from one to the other in surprise. He’d always thought of Dassen as Fa’s friend, but now he sensed that they had something of their own, some deep connection he didn’t know anything about. Maybe this was why his mother had wanted Dassen here: because she knew he would believe her, no matter what. With a stab of guilt it occurred to Ryder that maybe he should have been that person. But how could he be? He had believed all his life that prophecies were fake. Hadn’t Mabis herself drummed it into his head since childhood?

  “Will you do something for me?” Mabis said softly. It suddenly felt to Ryder that he was eavesdropping on a private conversation, that his mother and the tavern keeper had forgotten that there were other people in the tent.

  “Anything,” Dassen said. “You know that.”

  “Tell the villagers that when the time comes, they must stand in the river.”

  “What’s this?” Visser interrupted. “The river?”

  Mabis raised her voice and looked around the tent. “I have told Dassen and I tell you all: When the time comes, running water will offer some protection.”

  “Oh, Mabis,” said Visser, shaking her head. “You embarrass yourself.”

  Dassen ignored her. “I will tell them in the village. I will make sure everyone knows.”

  Visser looked like she might have said more, but the girl in white stood up and put a hand on her arm. “Yes, I quite agree,” Visser said, as if the girl had spoken. “We’re finished here.”

  Aata’s Right Hand nodded and made a hasty bow to them all, again eyeing Ryder nervously as she stood up. She’s eager to leave, Ryder thought as he bowed back. She’s afraid that any moment I’ll accuse her of stealing my mother’s bone. But Ryder didn’t say a word as the two women filed out of the tent. He and the white witch were co-conspirators now.

  He tried to take Mabis by the arm, but she shrugged away his help. Kef stood up but remained by the exit. As Mabis passed to lea
ve, he reached out and gently touched her on the shoulder. “I wouldn’t want you to go without knowing that there are many in the coven who remember you, who would be happy to take you back.” His voice was as kind as Visser’s had been harsh.

  “Take me back?” Mabis laughed ruefully. “After what you’ve just seen?”

  “Don’t you think you should be with the brothers and sisters of the coven? Especially now?” Ryder didn’t understand the sadness in his crooked smile.

  “There is nothing in the mountains for me.”

  Kef shook his head. “Not even Aata and Aayse? How can you presume to throw the bones when you have no faith? Did you even pray this morning before you came to us?”

  Mabis hesitated, then shrugged. She hadn’t. They all knew that.

  “You cannot be a boneshaker while looking down your nose at our beliefs,” Kef went on. “You’re either a witch or you’re not.”

  “Why are you here, Kef?” Mabis said abruptly. “You’re not an elder. You’re not a boneshaker.”

  “No . . .” Kef seemed to hesitate. Ryder hadn’t thought to wonder why such a new member of the coven would be sent to answer a firecall. To carry the gear and light the fires?

  “It’s not really me you want to lure to the coven, is it?” Mabis said.

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Don’t you? All this concern about my health, my faith.” Mabis put a hand on Kef’s wrist and pulled him close. “Tell old Sodan that my health is fine. And as for my faith, ask him why I lost it. Ask Visser. They know. See if either of them will dare to tell you.”

  With that she took Ryder’s arm and swept out of the tent.

  Instead of going into the cottage, Ryder lingered outside under the silvernut trees, looking down on the valley. The sun had set, but there was still light in the sky. His mother and sisters had gone inside. Far below on the path, Ryder could just make out Dassen’s little brown horse. Dassen had been invited to stay the night but had insisted that he’d already left his establishment too long in the hands of hired girls. At this time of the year the tavern would be busy. Farmers from far and wide would be bringing their hicca to the village mill to be roasted and ground, and they would need a place to eat and drink. Dassen would probably tell them all to be sure to stand in the river when the monsters came. Ryder’s cheeks went warm at the idea.

  It’s all over, he tried to tell himself. Things will go back to normal now. But dread lay coiled at the pit of his stomach. He had the feeling that the future was stealing up behind him, about to tap his shoulder with a cold finger, about to break the spell of this perfect twilit night.

  Again and again, the image of the white witch floated to his mind—the strange girl lit up by the moon, the dying embers of the fire. Guilt, he told himself. Guilt over letting her take his mother’s bone. But it wasn’t just that. It was as if the girl were a puzzle that his mind was trying to solve.

  The singing he had heard earlier in the day was gone, but the world still seemed to shimmer. Strange as the day had been, he didn’t want it to end, didn’t want the time to pass. It seemed to Ryder that his whole life was leaving him somehow, slipping over the horizon with the setting sun. He wanted to reach out and call it back.

  “How did she know?” he said out loud. “If there is no magic, if boneshaking is a fake, how did that girl know the bone was in the fire? What told her to look there?”

  He searched for a logical explanation, but his mind kept sliding back to the illogical ones, in spite of himself.

  What if everything he believed was wrong?

  CHAPTER 6

  MAIDEN’S WOE

  “Kef needs to talk to you.”

  Skyla had come up beside him, trouble on her face. She had a rough pack slung over her shoulder.

  “What’s that?”

  “Just talk to Kef. He’s in the planting hills.”

  Skyla smiled weakly at him, but Ryder wasn’t in the mood for games. That pack was the one they took when they went away somewhere—when they spent the night in the village or took the tithe to the coven. Ryder yanked it from her shoulder and tore it open.

  “Stop it!” Skyla said. Girls’ underclothes and a few other items spilled out onto the dirt at their feet.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Ryder demanded. He picked up a scrap of blue cloth and shook it in her direction. “Is this Pima’s dress?”

  Skyla bent down and gathered the fallen things, bundling them tightly into her arms. “The witches have invited Pima and me to stay in the coven for a while.”

  Ryder almost laughed. “Mabis would never agree to that.”

  “I just asked her, and she said yes. It’s an honor.”

  Ryder frowned in disbelief. Mabis would never let them go to the coven. But the look in his sister’s eyes said the opposite. Why would Mabis allow it? “Is this what you were doing this afternoon? Begging for an invitation? Well, I’m sorry, Skyla. This is no time for a pleasure trip.”

  “It’s not . . . ,” Skyla began. “No, you don’t understand—”

  Ryder didn’t let her finish. “It’s all over, Sky. You were there. Mabis saw nothing. The witches can take our tithe up with them, we’ll get the rest of the crops in, and we’ll have just enough for the winter. We can finally go back to the way things were—you’re not going to ruin it by shirking out of the last of the harvesting.”

  He expected an angry retort, but Skyla only lowered her voice and said almost gently, “Do you really think everything can go back to the way it was?”

  “Of course.”

  His sister’s eyes were filling with tears. “You don’t understand. I didn’t either until they explained it to me.”

  Skyla hardly ever cried, and now it was twice in two days. The last time was in the hicca fields when she’d asked Ryder what he thought she wanted. A realization came over him. Maybe now he knew.

  “You want to be a witch,” he said, even more certain as he spoke the words. “You want to stay in the coven for good. Study there.”

  “No! I mean—well, yes . . . But it’s not about that.”

  It was so obvious now—Skyla always had been a romantic when it came to the witches—but he was surprised she could be so selfish. “You can’t, Skyla. We can’t always get what we want.”

  “Oh!” she said, fully bursting into tears now. “Just talk to Kef!” And with that she ran toward the prayer hill, clutching her belongings to her chest.

  Yes, he’d talk to Kef.

  In the dying light, Ryder could see Kef’s dark silhouette at the top of the largest planting hill. He was waiting for him, pacing and looking down on the valley.

  “You can’t have them!” Ryder shouted, climbing toward him through the rows. Most of the hicca was stripped now, and the bare stalks stood up like spines from the soft earth.

  Kef held up his palms in a gesture of truce and called down to him. “We need to talk.”

  “You can’t have my sisters,” Ryder said, breaking into a run. He reached the top quickly and stood panting in front of the broken pole where the lucky man once stood. His mother’s words came back to him. It’s not really me you want to lure to the coven, is it? Mabis had known. Mabis had known what Kef was up to. But how could she just let this happen?

  Kef must have seen the hard look on Ryder’s face, because he backed away, his hands still raised. Ryder pressed forward. “They’re needed on the farm. Do you think that just because you’re witches you can take whatever you want?”

  “Ryder . . .”

  “I’m no fool. I know you’d love to have the nieces of Lilla Red Bird in your grip. But you can’t just come here and break up our family!”

  Kef took a step forward, reaching out a tentative hand to touch Ryder’s shoulder. “Skyla came to us. And sending Pima was your mother’s idea.” The false calm in Kef’s voice was maddening—he sounded like he was trying to soothe a horse with its leg caught in a fence. Ryder pushed his hand away.

  “I don’t
believe you. Mabis had it right. You’re here to lure them to the coven.”

  “No, not them. You. It’s you the witches want.”

  Ryder struggled to take in what Kef had said. “The witches want . . . what?”

  “Sodan sent me along to speak to you because we’re friends. Ryder, you can’t really be surprised.”

  It was almost laughable. “Oh, I’m surprised.”

  “I know your feelings about witches, but—don’t refuse too quickly. Life can’t be easy on this farm. It wasn’t easy when . . . when your father was alive. But in the coven, you’d have everything you need. And Mabis might decide to come too if you were going. It would be the best thing for her.”

  “My mother would starve before she went back there! And I’d join her.”

  Kef gazed at him, unperturbed. “You can’t put off your destiny forever.”

  “My what?”

  Kef paused, shaking his head. “She never told you, did she?”

  “Told me what?”

  Kef scowled at the ground. “She should have,” he muttered. Then he lifted his chin. “Sodan says that before you were born, your mother’s sister threw the bones and made a prophecy about you.”

  Ryder narrowed his eyes. “My mother’s sister? Lilla Red Bird?”

  Kef nodded. “She said you would have the gift, that you could be a great boneshaker. Like her. Like your grandfather.”

  Now Ryder really did laugh. At Kef, and at himself, for almost falling into such an obvious trap. “Oh, Kef, what have they done to you? Don’t you remember? You and I used to sit up on Dassen’s roof and talk about what nonsense all that was.”

  Kef’s voice stayed calm and kind. “I remember. You used to tell me you were meant for something more than farming. And you are meant for something more. You’ll find it in the coven, Ryder. I did.”

  Ryder’s laughter died on his lips. “Listen to me. You might actually believe what you’re saying, but I’ve lived with a boneshaker all my life. I know how it’s done. The secret to making some horse’s ass believe a prophecy is to be flattering. ‘Oh, you have a great destiny. Oh, you’re so different from everybody else.’ How many poor young men and women have been tricked into coven life with that foolishness? I wonder. Is that how they got you, Kef?”