The River Witch

by Helena Rookwood

  Overcome with a sudden sense of loss, Tabitha impulsively put the necklace on. The stone was cold against her skin, but it comforted her. It was such a long time since she'd worn it. Maybe now that she was older it might be nice to wear the necklace again sometimes. Just occasionally. Her mother had left it to her, after all.

  Running her thumb over the stone on the end of the necklace, Tabitha wandered over to the window and looked out across the river. It was beautiful in the moonlight, a bright silver streak through a dull metal countryside. Something in her stirred, longing to be out in the night air. She hesitated for a moment. Her grandmother might not like it if she wandered out into the night. But what could possibly go wrong? She knew the countryside well enough by day. And it might be nice, she thought, her hand still on the necklace, to take her mother out for a walk.

  Tabitha paused only for a moment longer before slipping on some warmer clothes and wrapping a thick shawl around her shoulders, hiding the necklace from sight. She was sure it was fine to wear it outside, but she thought it might be better to keep it hidden, just in case Ondine did wake up.

  Tabitha stole quietly out of her bedroom and crept through the cottage to the front door, taking even more care not to knock into anything as she went. She sometimes thought that the house was as much in Ondine's thrall as the river was. If it so much as suspected that Tabitha was disobeying her grandmother, it was likely that a floorboard would give a terrible creak, or a pot would fall to the ground with a loud clatter, alerting Ondine to Tabitha's night-time prowl. So Tabitha moved through the house exceptionally slowly and carefully, giving all of her grandmother's possessions a wide berth.

  But she forgot about the animals.

  Tabitha made it as far as the kitchen before tripping over a young fox who had curled up by the stove. She stumbled forwards, just keeping her balance as the fox sprang to its feet and let out that piercing, unnerving shriek that foxes do. Tabitha froze. There was no way her grandmother hadn't heard that. She glared at the fox, who just barked at her irritably again before settling back down to sleep. Tabitha waited anxiously for Ondine to come charging through to the kitchen... but the house remained still. She straightened up. Could it be possible that her grandmother was still asleep? She listened, but there was no sound of anything stirring from farther back within the house. Perhaps she had been lucky – perhaps her grandmother was in a very deep sleep. Not waiting any longer to find out, Tabitha slipped out into the night.

  It must have been very late, for there was no glow at all from any of the houses in the village, no low-burning ends of a fire or a candle still flickering in someone's window. But the moon was so bright that everything was quite visible anyway, all lit up in that same silvery, ghostly glow that had illuminated Tabitha's room. The river, in particular, seemed to have caught and held much of the cool light, a stark, sharp brightness against the more ethereal light that seemed to be reflecting off everything on land. Tabitha looked up at the sky, which was completely clear of cloud, but even the stars had faded against the light of the moon. It was beautiful.

  Still being careful to be quiet so that she didn't disturb any of the other villagers, Tabitha wandered away from Ondine's house and along the riverside towards the moorings. She was surprised how cold it was, and pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders. But she supposed that autumn was truly on its way now, the days growing shorter and the nights longer, so perhaps it wasn't surprising that the temperature had dropped.

  Tabitha reached the moorings, and the boats tethered there were lit up too, like tiny ghost ships. Tabitha wondered what it would look like to see one of them cutting through the silver water, and she briefly considered taking her boat out, but she was wary about doing so in the dark; her sailor's instincts told her this was a bad idea. So she carried on walking, past the moorings, past the rest of the houses in the village, past her parents' old house, and out through the marshes. As always, for a moment she was tempted by the river, but the cold night air put her off the idea of a night-time swim. She would come back in the summer though, she thought; she was longing to slip into the black of the water. But tonight it was too cold. And, she couldn't help thinking bitterly, the river hadn't helped her much recently anyway. It was probably only habit that kept drawing her back here now.

  A wave of resentment suddenly swept over Tabitha, and she impetuously swung inland and away from the river, towards the woods. If the river didn't want to talk to her, then she didn't want to talk to it either. She stomped into the thick of the trees, not looking back over her shoulder to where the river was still shining brightly. But she quickly regretted leaving the open marshes. As the woods grew thicker the moonlight was filtered out by the canopy above, and it rapidly grew darker. For some reason the dark was making Tabitha feel nervous this evening, and she shot a longing look back towards the silver river. But it must just be the lack of sleep, she told herself again, and so she continued to walk through the woods, aimlessly, allowing her feet to take her wherever they wanted to.

  As she carried on walking, scuffing up the first of the fallen leaves as she went, Tabitha suddenly became aware that there was a sound coming from deeper within the woods. She frowned. There shouldn't be anything making any kind of noise at this time. Maybe it was just her own footsteps, her mind playing tricks on her in the dark. She stopped walking for a moment, and listened hard. But yes – there it was again. A distant hum, like voices... Tabitha tried to keep calm. It was probably nothing.

  Feeling even more on edge, she inched her way forwards, more carefully now, trying not to make too much noise as she rustled through the undergrowth. She was conscious of the leaves underfoot making it hard to stay quiet. But as she walked on, the sound of the voices only grew louder, and Tabitha suddenly realised what it was. People were singing. She slowed her pace, but by this time Tabitha couldn't help herself; she wanted to know what was going on. In the distance, she could make out the glow of a fire, golden against the dark of the trees. So Tabitha continued creeping forwards, and gradually the crackle and snap of burning wood was added to the sound of the strange chanting. There was a great bonfire in the middle of a clearing, she realised, and she slowed down even more as she began to feel nervous about who could possibly have lit it. She looked about for a vantage point from which she would be able to see what was going on while remaining hidden, and settled on a large old oak tree. Darting over to it, Tabitha pressed herself up against the trunk, and plucked up the courage to peer around it to look into the clearing.

  At first all that Tabitha could see was the familiar sight and sound of a bonfire. The light was blinding after the dark of the woodland, and her eyes were drawn to the flames. But as her eyes adjusted, Tabitha slowly began to process everything else, other sights that she didn't recognise or understand at all.

  The clearing was lined with stones which formed a large, complete circle around its edge. Within the circle, harvest goods had been piled up in small mounds – apples, squash, damsons, sloes and rosehips – along with colourful autumn leaves and pinecones that had been bleached to white. Yellow candles flickered softly on the ground, their flames fighting to compete with the bonfire in the centre. Tabitha didn't understand the meaning of any of it, but strangest of all was the source of the singing that Tabitha had heard.

  A circle of women were dancing around the bonfire, singing and chanting in strange harmonies that seemed to follow the pattern of the dance. They formed a complete ring around the fire, and each moved with quick, careful steps that interlaced with the women either side of them so that it looked to Tabitha as though there could, in fact, be one many-legged creature circling around the bonfire. They were all dressed in long, pale robes that billowed out around them as they moved, some were wearing strange masks or feathers in their hair, and for a while Tabitha could do nothing more than just stare at them, completely entranced. They made her think of swans, or ravens meeting to conspire. And somehow, the dance made her think of the river.

 
She watched them swirling past her – and then her breath caught in her throat. There amongst the dancers was her grandmother – she was sure of it! Every muscle in Tabitha's body froze in disbelief as her eyes roved over the circle, trying to spot her again. Yes – there she was! She wasn't wearing a mask, so Tabitha could clearly see that it was her. She was moving in the same rhythmic pattern as all the other dancers, more fluid in her movements than Tabitha thought should have been possible from the elderly, cantankerous old lady she knew at home. Her heart clenched as she realised the magnitude of the secrets her grandmother must be keeping from her, while a distant, still-thinking part of her mind was satisfied at coming to understand that this must be why her grandmother hadn't woken up when Tabitha had disturbed the fox in the house.

  Tabitha stayed quiet, not quite sure what she ought to do. She couldn't leave without finding out what was happening, without asking her grandmother to explain herself. But she couldn't exactly interrupt the dance to confront Ondine, either. So she remained stationary at edge of the clearing, reluctantly admiring the grace of the dance as she debated whether to stay or leave, when suddenly she recognised another face among the dancers.

  Beneath the spike of a white raven's beak worn across her forehead was Brigit – just a few dancers along from her grandmother, and joining in with the steps with the same precision as all the others. This jolted Tabitha out of her rapture, white-hot fury flooding through her. How dare Brigit have been invited to this when she, Tabitha, Ondine's own granddaughter, had been kept completely in the dark. How could Ondine have allowed Brigit to attend this when she had not even mentioned it to Tabitha? Surely she, Tabitha, ought to have been the first to have been invited to something like this?

  Unbidden, Brigit's claims that Tabitha thought she was something special flashed through her mind – but Tabitha dismissed these quickly. It wasn't that she thought she was special – but, well, she was Ondine's granddaughter, wasn't she? Didn't they share everything with one another?

  Obviously not, Tabitha thought broodingly. And it couldn't even be that big a secret given that so many women were here. Even Brigit had been invited. Tabitha watched her circling around the fire, the flames lighting up her sandy hair to a brilliant red, and scowled. Brigit, who spent her whole time trying to make Tabitha feel small because of her unusual behaviour around the river, was clearly involved in some very unusual behaviour of her own in these woods. And she had been so rude about Ondine yesterday, even though she must have been in cahoots with her the whole time. Tabitha was furious.

  As if the force of her fury had attracted Brigit's attention, suddenly she looked over in Tabitha's direction. The two girls' eyes met, and Tabitha saw Brigit's eyes widen in surprise, the change spread over her face as she recognised Tabitha in the bushes.

  In that split second, Brigit's attention was taken away from the dance, and she misstepped. The dance was interrupted, the easy flow of movement broken. Chaos erupted as the dancers crashed into one another, waving their arms in an effort not to lose their balance and crying out as they knocked into one another. What had been an ethereal, magical sight descended into a mess of screaming women who looked awkward and ungainly, their long skirts hindering their movements. One girl stumbled dangerously close to the fire, and Ondine leapt forwards to drag her back, moving perilously close to the flames herself. Before she could think about what would happen if she was seen here, Tabitha unthinkingly stepped forward to try and help. But as soon as she stepped over the stone circle, Tabitha suddenly felt a shudder run through the earth, and the stone around her neck began to burn...

  She opened her mouth to scream at the pain and the shock of it, but no sound came out. Tabitha's head lolled forwards, and it was as though the necklace was keeping her upright, half strangling her as it held her aloft by her throat. The stone grew hot as it absorbed all that had been contained by the circle, so that Tabitha too suddenly knew the steps that every dancer had made that evening, the steps that every dancer for centuries had made on this night. She felt the day and night in equal measure, the growth and decay of the harvest, and the death of a great, forgotten god who had retreated for the winter...

  While Tabitha hung helpless at the edge of the clearing, the dancers around the bonfire all grew still, clutching nervously at each other as they felt the tremor run through them all and outwards from their little stone circle. None of them dared speak as they realised that in that moment the very fabric of the earth had shifted...

  ***

  In a little tent at the far side of the woods, Lysander's eyes snapped open. His heart was pounding, his mind suddenly racing. He felt the force of it burning in his blood – something had changed in the earth. Something had shifted, somehow – like the break of a wave on the shore. Lysander's whole body tingled with the force of it, and he groaned with pain and exhilaration as the strange new power in the earth rippled through him.

  Still half-riddled with sleep, Lysander stumbled up and out of his tent, out into the night air where he was blinded by the dazzling light of the moon...

  ***

  At that exact moment, somewhere very far away in the distant mountains, a lonely girl snapped awake. She gasped, feeling consciousness return to her for the first time in – how long had it been? How long had she been sleeping? How was it that she was awake? The girl shuddered as she felt a tremor run through the earth that was all around her, and she felt frightened.

  The stones, and the moss on the walls, and the insects crawling in and out of the soil, all hurried to her side as best they could and began whispering to her, desperate to comfort her, to tell her what had happened. It was hard for the girl at first, to make sense of such a cacophony of sound after being asleep for such a very long time. It was overwhelming to remember what it was to hear. But the girl did her best to listen, glad to hear voices again, and she rested her head against the wall where she might hear them better.

  Although they all spoke in different tongues and strange voices, the girl slowly began to remember what they sounded like, and from the rhythm of their voices she came to realise that the stones and the moss and the insects were all trying to communicate the same message. Their voices were urgent, panicked, and she realised that it was important that she understand them. Concentrating hard now, the girl suddenly became aware that the voices were all repeating the same thing, over and over again.

  Get away.

  Get away now.

  But the girl couldn't leave.

  And so, disturbed though she was by such an unexpected awakening, the girl just closed her eyes in despair, and slumped back into her deep, immoveable sleep.

  6

  CHAPTER SIX

  Tabitha was back in bed, lying perfectly still. It was still before dawn, but the moon had dropped in the sky and the brilliance of the night had faded, so her room had returned to dark.

  Although Tabitha was still wide awake, she kept her eyes tightly closed. Please. Please let it just have been another bad dream.

  But Tabitha knew it hadn't been a bad dream. She put a hand up to where her mother's necklace still hung around her neck, gingerly moving it to one side. The skin beneath it was sore and rough beneath her fingertips, and Tabitha winced as she touched it. The spot was full of fire where she had been burnt. It had really happened.

  After Tabitha had felt herself become stretched out by the dance, and been filled up with the memory of all those nights that went right back to the beginning – was that what her father had always meant, Tabitha wondered, to say that her family had been here since the beginning? – it had been devastatingly painful to feel it all rush out of her again. Her mind had shrunk back until it filled just her human body, and for the first time in her life, she had understood what it meant to feel insignificant. Whatever had allowed the necklace to hold her upright, that had left the circle then too, and Tabitha had felt herself fall to the ground, unable to remember how to operate any of her limbs. She had lay on the cold, damp leaves until some deep in
stinct had spoken to her, in words that sounded as clear as a voice spoken aloud: Get away. Get away now.

  So Tabitha had crawled back out of the circle before her grandmother or anyone else had seen her, and dragged herself away from the dancers and the fire until eventually her legs told her that they had remembered how to walk, and Tabitha had stumbled to her feet.Then she had run, as fast as her feet could carry her, back out of the woods, across the marshland, and past the moorings, back to her grandmother's house where she had flung herself into bed and stayed there. Tabitha hadn't dared to move until she had heard her grandmother return to the house, and even then she had remained in bed, trying desperately to process everything that had happened.

  The most painful thing, she thought as she lay in bed, even more painful in fact than the burn of the necklace, or experiencing the entire history of a night leave her body, was to think that her grandmother had kept a secret from her. How could Ondine have kept something so significant from her? Why had she?

  Tabitha longed to speak to her grandmother, and to ask her to explain herself. She certainly wasn't going to be able to pretend that nothing had happened. But Tabitha didn't know how to confess what she had seen without also confessing what she had done. How could she tell Ondine that she was the one who had interrupted the dance?

  Tabitha opened her eyes, and thought that there was nothing she wanted to do less than to speak to her grandmother. So although her limbs were complaining after her dash back home earlier in the night, and her eyes were still painfully drawn with exhaustion, Tabitha forced herself to quietly get back up and out of bed. She would face the inevitable conversation with her grandmother later. Tabitha pulled on her fishing wear and slipped out of the house with the first of the light.