The River Witch

by Helena Rookwood

  The air was still cold, and Tabitha shivered as she stomped down to the moorings. It really did feel like yesterday had marked the beginning of autumn. The first pale streaks of morning were just brightening the horizon in the east, while stars still glittered in a dark sky when Tabitha looked back in the other direction. It was still so early that none of the boats were out yet, and Tabitha thought how peaceful it was to have the river to herself. She untethered the little fishing boat that had once belonged to her father and pushed out onto the river.

  The water was strangely still that morning, the boat disturbing a mirror-like surface as it cut through the water. But Tabitha found it soothing to see the water so still, and so for a while she simply allowed the boat to drift, wrapping herself up in a few more layers and leaning back on the deck to look out across the river. If she couldn't sleep, she could at least allow herself to relax. She watched the sky turn red, and then peach, and then finally a pale lemon yellow as the sun finally winked up above the horizon, casting long black shadows over the river. Maybe it had been a bad dream after all, Tabitha thought. It was so peaceful this morning, it seemed impossible to believe that anything could be wrong.

  Feeling a little better, Tabitha willed herself to sit up and then, ignoring her protesting limbs, managed to persuade herself to row a little farther back upriver from where she had drifted downstream. She cast her line over the side of the boat and dreamily looked up at the sky again, growing lighter now. She wondered where everyone else was. Much as she was enjoying the peace, Tabitha would have expected some of the other boats to be out by now. But then again, she thought darkly, perhaps if everyone else had been involved in such strange night time activities, they were all sleeping in this morning. If both Brigit and her grandmother had been involved, she could only assume that everyone else was too. You couldn't find two more different characters than Ondine and Brigit – perhaps apart from the difference between Brigit and Tabitha herself.

  Tabitha mulled sourly over this while she waited for the anticipated tug on the line. Perhaps she would have it out with her grandmother after all. Of all the people Ondine could have chosen to involve in whatever she had been doing yesterday – why did it have to be Brigit?

  Frowning, Tabitha checked her rod. It was strange that nothing had caught yet. Usually she barely had to dip her line in the water before she caught something; the river was generous with her. She pulled the line back in, checked that the bait was still in place, and rowed a little farther upriver before dropping the line again. Thoughts of the previous night temporarily forgotten, she hovered over the rod, waiting impatiently for the bob of the float to tell her that she had caught something. But although she waited until the sun was high in the sky, the tug didn't come – and no other boats appeared out alongside her.

  Uneasy now, Tabitha pulled the line back in. A shiver ran through her, and she was suddenly overcome with the sensation that the river didn't want her to be out here. It was the same instinctual drive she had felt yesterday – to get away, as clear as if someone was shouting it at her. But although she had accepted it in the woods, Tabitha had never felt anything like that from the river before. She tried to tell herself again that it must just be the sleep deprivation, but she felt tears beginning to prick at her eyes at the thought that the river didn't want her there. Perhaps her division from the river was getting even worse. Perhaps she would slowly lose her connection to it altogether, now that she had stopped being able to understand what it was saying to her, and then the river would have left her too, just like her mother and then her father had done...

  Before she could dwell on the thought any longer, Tabitha gave herself a little shake. It was pointless to think like this. She was just tired, that was all. It was fanciful to think that it was anything more than just that everyone had been out late yesterday, and so were late in coming out this morning. Even if what she had seen yesterday had in part been some sort of strange dream, it was perfectly possible that everyone had been out for some kind of celebration, which was why they were sleeping in late today. And perhaps the stillness of the river meant there was something going on that she wasn't aware of, that was affecting her catch. It probably wasn't anything more than that.

  Splashing her face with a little of the river water in the hope that it might snap her out of her daze, Tabitha resolved to give up on fishing for the morning and head back to shore. She would pop out again later if she needed to. There was surely some extra information she was missing, which would explain all of this. But for the moment, she was gaining nothing by sitting out on the river on her own, not catching any fish. Tabitha lifted the oars and rowed slowly back to the shore, the pull at her shoulders as she rowed a welcome distraction from her unsettled thoughts.

  As she pulled up to the moorings, Tabitha noticed that a little crowd was gathered at the shore, waving and shouting at her. She frowned. What on earth was going on this morning? She waved half-heartedly back and rowed up to the shoreline, where everyone was waiting. Tabitha noted uncomfortably that there was an air of anxiety hanging about them all, and as she pulled into her mooring, Adal and a heavy-built fisherman named Glenn leapt straight into the boat and dragged her roughly off again.

  “Hey!” Tabitha tried to shrug them off. “Leave off!”

  “What on earth were you doing?” Adal was clutching at the front of her clothes, wide-eyed and terrified.

  Tabitha pulled free and stumbled back a few steps.

  “What's going on?” she asked, frightened now. “I've just been out fishing – I woke up early. Not that I caught anything.”

  None of the villagers would meet her eye.

  “You need to stay off the river today,” Glenn said shortly.

  “Why? What's going on?” Recovering herself now, Tabitha drew herself up and folded her arms, trying to channel her grandmother's authority. “If there's something going on, we all need to know about it.”

  Something in the faces of the other fisherfolk who had gathered there told Tabitha she wasn't going to like what they were going to say. Glenn shifted uneasily from foot to foot.

  “We know you and Ondine have got some sort of … well, you get on with the river, you know?” he began hesitantly.

  Tabitha shrugged. “So what?” she asked again.

  “There's things in that river, Tab,” Glenn said nervously. “Things we've never seen before. You need to stay away from it, 'til we've figured out what's what.”

  Tabitha laughed. “What could there possibly be in the river?” she smiled. “There's never been anything dangerous in there before. Why would it start now?”

  But none of the fisherfolk were laughing. They exchanged unhappy, grim glances with one another, and Adal gently took hold of her arm.

  “Come up here, Tab.”

  Tabitha allowed herself to be guided up from the moorings to where Lecia, one of the other village women, was sat in a heap on the floor, her arms drenched in blood up to her elbows, her entire body shaking with exertion.

  “Lecia,” Tab whispered, the fight suddenly going out of her. She turned back to Adal. “What happened?”

  Adal shook his head, running a trembling hand through his hair. He made as if to reply, but then just gestured over to beyond where Lecia was sitting. Tabitha blanched.

  Lying in a pool of blood was what looked like a great snake. Except, it didn't look like any snake Tabitha had seen before. She inhaled sharply as she took in the great size of it; it was longer than any of the men or women in the village, and thick as a barrel. But stranger even than that was the snake's strange colouring, the iridescent gleam to its scales, which shone in brilliant greens and purples. Tabitha stared at the giant gills at its neck, the tall fins at its side. She was amazed that Lecia had managed to kill it.

  “What... what is it?” Tabitha finally breathed.

  “We don't know,” Adal said grimly. “Lecia had barely got her boat out into the shallows when it rammed the side of the boat – put a hole right through th
e hull. And it wouldn't stop, neither. So she took her stone fishing knife to it, and eventually it must've lost enough blood that it couldn't go on. Lecia dragged it ashore, and we're right grateful she did... I'm not sure any of us would've believed her if she'd just told us the story...”

  Here Adal blushed, looking a little sheepish. “Forgive us if it's not right for us to ask, Tab... but it reminds me of the stories you always used to tell us when you were a little girl – that you and your Ma used to read. You don't... You don't happen to know what it is?”

  Tabitha shook her head slowly. But even as she did, she couldn't help thinking that this creature wasn't completely alien to her. She had seen something like it before, just as Adal suggested, in the books that her mother had read with her as a child... but she was hesitant to say it. She thought of Brigit's words from a few days before about no one believing her stories; she thought about what they would all say if they knew what had happened last night. What use was it to say she might have seen a picture of something like it, anyway?

  “I'm sorry,” she said, shaking her head again. “I'm not sure.”

  Adal scratched his head and looked a little rueful. “Sorry to ask, Tab,” he said. “But you know how it is...”

  Tabitha didn't know what to say, so she just stared at her feet. She was already feeling guilty.

  “It went for the other boats too,” Adal added quietly, “before Lecia got to it. Most of 'em are damaged in some way, to a greater or lesser extent. I guess it don't want us in the river. So promise me that you won't go out in the boat again, not until we know whether there are any others.”

  “I promise,” Tab replied weakly.

  “We wasn't sure how you'd take it,” Adal confessed, “being told to stay out of the river. But it's not safe right now, Tab.”

  Tabitha nodded slowly.

  “Please, I'd like to get back to my Nana. She'll want to know about this.”

  Adal nodded back, looking a little relieved. “You do that Tab. And – you'll ask her, won't you? If she knows anything?”

  “Of course.”

  Her head reeling, Tabitha began to walk shakily back to Ondine's. This day couldn't get any worse.

  A sudden sharp grip on her wrist made her jump. She turned, and saw Brigit walking alongside her with a face like stone. She didn't turn to look at Tabitha, so it looked to all the rest of the villagers as if they were just two girls walking along together, but she spoke to Tabitha out of the corner of her mouth, and when she did her voice was like venom.

  “This is your fault,” Brigit hissed. “I saw you there last night.”

  Tabitha looked sideways at her, preparing to defend herself. But she faltered when she saw Brigit's face. She didn't look angry, but was white with fright. Tabitha forgot the retort that had been waiting on her lips. Brigit stopped, and her tight grip on Tabitha's wrist meant that she was forced to halt too.

  “I just wanted you to know,” Brigit scowled at her, trying to keep the fear from her eyes, “that I know it was your fault last night. And if you won't admit to it, I will tell what happened. I'm not keeping your secret for you.”

  Dropping Tabitha's arm, she quickly turned and strode away.

  Rubbing at her wrist, the skin pinched and sore, Tabitha felt herself grow pale. It felt uncomfortable to realise that Brigit could actually take the moral high ground, for the first time that Tabitha could remember. And worse, this confirmed beyond doubt that none of the previous night had been a dream. Tabitha felt her head spin. It was too much to take in all at once. She must get back to her grandmother's and find out exactly what was going on.

  Tabitha hastened home, her head still swimming. Ondine was sat outside the front of the house again, her knitting in hand, but as Tabitha grew closer she realised that her grandmother's hands weren't moving at all. If the sight of the strange snake in the river had frightened Tabitha, this was a hundred times worse; if even her grandmother's knitting couldn't solve whatever problem she was wrangling with, then things must be far more serious than Tabitha realised. She felt tears crowding her eyes again, and moved to sit down by her grandmother.

  “What's happening, Nana?” she asked in a small voice, sinking down into the chair next to Ondine. “What's happening to the river?”

  Her grandmother remained quiet for a moment, but when she spoke her voice was firm.

  “Listen, Tabitha,” she began. “There are things that have been sleeping in the river. Things that have been sleeping for so long that they've all but been forgotten. But they're beginning to wake up again...”

  Tabitha's mind flashed to the tooth she had in her trinket box upstairs. Could that have come from a creature like the one she'd seen this morning? She shuddered at the thought that other creatures like it might be waking up now.

  “Why, Nana?” she asked, although she thought she might know the answer. It seemed too much of a coincidence that the creature had arrived in the river the morning after Tabitha had interrupted the dance. “Why are they coming back now?”

  She wondered whether her grandmother already knew that she had been there last night. That she had done... something. That she might be to blame for all this.

  Ondine frowned. “I'm not sure Tab,” she said. “It's strange... after all this time...”

  She trailed off, and said nothing else for a minute.

  Tabitha looked guiltily down at her hands. Perhaps she ought to tell Ondine what she had seen in the woods, confess that she had been responsible for the dance being interrupted. Her grandmother would know whether that made her responsible for the creature in the river. But before she could make her confession, Ondine carried on.

  “I don't know what's started it, Tab,” she said, regaining her stride, “but now it's started, it's not going to stop again. That much I know. And them creatures in the river aren't friendly... they're not going to be happy to discover what we've gone and built all the way along the river... that we're taking boats out onto it.”

  “Adal said that the snake this morning attacked the boats,” Tabitha remembered.

  “That's no snake,” Ondine said grimly. “And it's far from the worst of what's to come. Adal's right, Tab – you need to stay off the boat for now.”

  Tab knew better than to ask how Ondine knew what Adal had said to her.

  “But how can we do that, Nana?” she protested. “We need to fish – and – and you know I can't – I can't just leave the river alone...”

  She tried and failed again to pluck up the courage to tell her grandmother how the river had gone quiet for her. But Ondine wasn't done.

  “Listen, Tab,” she said, and she echoed what Adal had just told her. “Now, you're not going to like this. Even less than me telling you that you've got to stay out of the river. But I need you to listen, alright?”

  Tabitha nodded. Perhaps now her grandmother was finally going to tell her what it was that she had seen in the woods yesterday.

  “It's to do with your mother,” Ondine began, “something she told me just before we lost her all those years ago.”

  Tabitha felt a lump come to her throat.

  “I've not told you before now,” Ondine said carefully, “because there's not been cause to. And she told me I only need tell you if something like this happened... something which would mean you needed to leave the village.”

  “But Nana – ”

  “No, Tab, let me finish,” Ondine said firmly. “I know you don't like it. But it's how it is. So you're going to listen, alright?”

  There was no point in protesting.

  “You've asked me often, Tab, where your Mama came from. Well, I don't know if this is the place, but it's as good a guess as any to think that it's where she must have come from. You see, your Mama warned me, Tab, that something like this might happen. That something... strange might start to happen here. And she made me promise that if it ever did, then I would send you to a place called the Iron City. She said that would be the safest place for anyone, in these circumstan
ces. That it's the only place that's been preparing for a day like this. Are you listening to me, Tab?”

  Tabitha was still staring at her hands, struggling to take in what her grandmother was saying. She had hoped for an explanation of what exactly had been going on over the past few days; instead, she had been presented with a further mystery. Not to mention that her grandmother was actually suggesting that she leave the village.

  “Tab?”

  Tabitha kept looking at her hands. Perhaps her grandmother really wanted her to go; perhaps now that she had Brigit to share her secrets with, there was no room for Tabitha in her life anymore.

  She felt her grandmother put a hand over Tabitha's own.

  “I'm not going,” she said flatly.

  “Tabitha – ”

  “I'm not going,” she repeated. “This is my home. Whatever my mother told you, that was a long time ago. You said it yourself, you're not even sure that's where she's from. And besides, I'm not running off to some safe place while everyone else is in some sort of danger. What if something happens, and I could have helped? What if something happened to you?” And what if I'm responsible, she added inwardly.

  “Oh, Tab,” Ondine said dismissively, “do you really think anything in this river is going to harm me?”

  But Tabitha wasn't prepared to listen.

  “This is my home,” she said again. “If nothing in the river will harm you, it won't harm me either. I'm not going.”

  And with that, Tabitha stood up and retreated to her bedroom, where she lay staring at the ceiling with wide, sleep-deprived eyes, and wondered what on earth was happening to the home she loved.

  7

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  For the second morning running, Tabitha had risen early and was quietly trying to dress and slip out of the house without disturbing her grandmother.

  They hadn't spoken again yesterday. Tabitha had remained cooped up in her bedroom, restless and frustrated at being stuck inside but unsure what to do if she couldn't go out on the river and unwilling to discuss leaving the village with her grandmother. She was unhappy and a little upset to know that was what Ondine wanted, and couldn't shake the feeling that she didn't know her grandmother as well as she thought she did. But she was resolute that she wouldn't leave, still guiltily silent regarding what had happened in the woods, and today Tabitha had a new secret: her dream had changed.