Having reluctantly accepted that she couldn't go out on the river, Tabitha had done her best to catch up on sleep while she had sulked in her room yesterday, and had slept better that night. She was still disturbed by her dreams, but she was now more confused than frightened. The dream had begun the same way it always did, with Tabitha walking down to the dry river and crouching down to examine the deep, dry cracks in the riverbed. As always, she had been disturbed by a shadow falling over her, and turned to see the flash of a knife. But last night Tabitha had not her her throat slit. Before the shadowy figure could strike, they were washed away by the river, the water returning to the crater in a wild rush. Tabitha had treaded water in the middle of the river as she had watched the figure get swept away by the current and then lifted out of the water by a strange monster with thirteen arms. At this point in the dream, she had been jolted awake again, but the panic she had felt at waking to a cut throat had gone.
Tabitha knew that she ought to tell her grandmother about this change to the dream, really. She would want to know. But Tabitha was still angry, and this morning was overcome with a desire to go back down to the riverside. If her grandmother thought her dream was important, then maybe she would recognise in this new version that the river was no longer luring Tabitha to her fate, but instead had come to her rescue. The river was on her side again; Tabitha was convinced it was. So she had wrapped herself up as warmly as she could, and once again slunk quietly out of the house.
Tabitha trudged slowly upstream, away from her grandmother's and from the rest of the village, her path illuminated by the light that gently warmed the sky even before the sun had risen. She needed to clear her head, and more than anything she wanted to have her feet planted in the river again, where she was meant to be. No one else would be up at this time; no one would know that she had gone down to the riverside. She would keep her promise, and not go out on the boat – but nothing was going to keep her away from the water altogether. As she stomped along the towpath, Tabitha wondered what everyone was doing now that they weren't fishing. What else was there to do here, if they couldn't go out on the river? Such a life was unimaginable. She couldn't understand how anyone would be able to stay away from the water for very much longer.
When she was far enough upriver that the village was just a small cluster of houses in the distance, Tabitha slowed, and began pacing up and down. What was she going to do? With each turn to pace back in the opposite direction, she cast a glance back at the water. The surface was still perfectly smooth, in the same way it had been yesterday, which made her nervous. But Tabitha thought again about her dream. The river had rushed to her defence. She just had to be confident that it was on her side. Tabitha stopped walking back and forth, and stared squarely at the river. She wouldn't take the boat out, or even go for a swim. But surely it couldn't hurt just to put her feet in the water for a moment?
Tabitha slipped off her shoes and wandered right down to the shoreline. The tide was still high, and the water looked ever so inviting. The sun had just lifted its head over the horizon, making the water shine dazzlingly bright. Casting a defiant look back towards her grandmother's house, Tabitha sat straight down in the mud and planted her feet in the water.
It was deliciously cool as it lapped against her skin, and Tabitha sighed as she felt her toes sinking into the silky mud at the bottom. She wriggled them gleefully, feeling the familiar calm of being near the water spread through her. She had been right – of course there was nothing here that would harm her. She knew the river, and it knew her.
But Tabitha didn't have very long to feel satisfied with herself; she was suddenly grabbed around the ankles by long, sharp fingers wrapping themselves around her skin. For a moment she was reminded of the vicelike grip Brigit had grasped her arm in yesterday; the fingers were cold and hard and loveless. But before Tabitha could even begin to panic, she was dragged down into the water, her fingers uselessly raking at the river mud as she tried to keep herself from being taken underwater.
Tabitha felt time slow down. All she could think was how strange this was, how topsy-turvy everything had become – a moment ago she had been desperate to go into the river, and now she was trying desperately to get out of the water. As her mind whirred, she thought how silly it was to think that the person holding onto her ankles could be Brigit. She was overwhelmed by the urge to laugh, and as a stream of bubbles burst out of her mouth, Tabitha suddenly became aware that she was being held under the water.
The panic hit her then, and she began to struggle, but the long fingers kept a tight grip on her ankles. As Tabitha felt the panic growing, it began to seem as it the river was panicking too; she could almost feel the panic leaking out of her, frothing up the water into a chaotic mess that rushed all around her. Tabitha looked down towards her feet, trying to see through the churning water in order to figure out who or what was holding on to her. She squinted, and saw an unearthly green face with hair like seaweed and bright, gleaming eyes looking back up at her...
Tabitha gasped – and inhaled water. She spluttered, and began trying to kick her legs out, desperate now to get away from whatever it was that had her in its grasp. The creature bared rows of sharp, pointed teeth, and Tabitha froze. She felt her mind grow addled, panic muddling her thoughts as she realised that she didn't know what to do.
Tabitha realised then that she was going to drown, in the river that she'd virtually been raised in. She should have listened to her grandmother…
And then, just as Tabitha was ready to give up, suddenly the water around her grew completely calm, so still that Tabitha could more clearly make out the creature that was holding onto her. It looked like a woman, with green skin, still baring her pointed teeth at her. The water began rushing away from both of them – no, just from Tabitha, taking the green woman away with it. The water pulled away from Tabitha with a great sucking sound, leaving her drenched but back in the open air, and Tabitha rasped in a deep breath before coughing up lungfuls of saltwater. She was sat on the riverbed, but unlike in her dream it was slick with mud, the clay earth sticking to her where she met the ground. The water had retreated in a circle around her, keeping the green woman trapped behind it. She was furious, lashing at the water, but she couldn't break free, and Tabitha watched with wide eyes as the creature grew increasingly irate.
Hands from behind her suddenly grabbed Tabitha again and she tried to cry out, but her voice was gone from inhaling so much water. She shuddered, not wanting to see what manner of creature had taken hold of her now, but when she looked it was her grandmother. Ondine dragged her up from the riverbed and marched her back to the bank with a strength that would have surprised Tabitha had she not already been so alarmed by the green woman. The river parted before them as Ondine walked forward, retreating so that she could drag her granddaughter back to the shore. Ondine carried on past the shoreline, taking Tabitha well inland before the river crashed back to its banks, and then deposited her granddaughter in a shaking pile on the floor. Tabitha watched from her dishevelled, muddy heap as two long, green arms ending in long, strong fingers grasped at the banks where she had been dragged from the river just moments ago, before slowly slipping back down into the river again.
“Well, if Jenny's awake they all are,” Ondine grumbled.
Tabitha tried to reply, but her voice caught in her throat, and instead she coughed up more water. As the panic retreated, she became aware of the pain in her lungs, the burning in her throat, the soreness around her ankles. She looked down and saw that bruises were already blooming on her legs.
Ondine pulled a skein from somewhere within the depths of her clothes, and held it to Tabitha's lips.
“Drink,” she instructed, and Tabitha did as she was told.
The strength of whatever she had been given made her cough, and the burning in her throat intensified, but the liquid tasted of blackberries and earth and fire, and it flooded Tabitha's body with warmth. She shuddered, and then slowly sat up, feeling a little bett
er.
“Jenny?” she managed to rasp out.
“Oh, yes,” her grandmother said, still looking disapprovingly at the river. “That was Jenny alright.”
Tabitha swallowed. She could taste mud and salt mingling with the blackberries. “Who... what is Jenny?”
“I think we'd better get you home before getting into all that,” Ondine said, looking about them uneasily. “We don't know who else is around here. And you're a state.”
Tabitha looked down at herself and guiltily thought of her promise to Mason that she would look after her clothes. They were ruined, caked with mud and full of holes where the green woman's – Jenny's – fingers had raked through them. She looked like a seal.
“Come on, Tab,” Ondine said with an edge of urgency in her voice, and she offered Tabitha an arm to help her up.
She found it hard to stand, her limbs suddenly all trembling.
“It's just the shock,” Ondine assured her, seeing the panic creeping back over her face, “but we do need to get you home.”
Leaning heavily on her grandmother, Tabitha allowed herself to be escorted back to the house. There, Ondine scrubbed her thoroughly until she was clean of the river and the mud, combed her hair out, and put her in some clean, dry clothes. The clothing she selected was different from Tabitha's usual fishing wear. Comfortable, but practical, the still-functioning part of Tabitha's mind noticed. Clothes for doing things in. She gradually stopped shaking.
Satisfied that her granddaughter was looking more respectable, Ondine ushered her through to the living room, which was already crowded full of animals. More than usual, Tabitha thought curiously. She looked over at her grandmother.
“Oh, don't mind them,” Ondine said. “They all want to know what's going on too.”
Tabitha sat down on the only remaining free chair, and Ondine waved some squirrels off the chair opposite her so that she could look her granddaughter straight in the eye.
“Now, Tabitha,” she said sternly. “Are you going to listen to what you wouldn't hear yesterday?”
Tabitha nodded slowly.
“Good.” Ondine took a deep breath. “Then let's start with Jenny. Jenny is a river mermaid, Tabitha. There are plenty of others like her, though you'll hear them called by other names in other places. You saw what she was... she preys on young children playing near rivers, particularly, but I suppose you were the first human she's seen in a very long time. She's probably forgotten that there's even a difference between human adults and children.” Here Ondine paused, and looked at Tabitha with one eyebrow raised. “If I hadn't come after you, she'd have eaten you.”
Tabitha gave an involuntary shudder, and a magpie fluttered onto her shoulder with a squawk. It pulled at her ear.
“Do you understand what I'm telling you, Tabitha?”
“Nana, you're talking like...” Tabitha struggled for the right words. “What you're saying sounds like the fairytales Mama used to read to me were real. But they can't be, Nana. They're just stories. In books.”
Ondine gave her a sharp look. “Didn't I tell you yesterday what your Mama told me? She knew that these things were coming. And she said that when they did, you needed to go to the Iron City and that they would know what to do about the fae. I don't think she would have asked you to leave your home lightly, Tabitha. Not unless there was any other choice.”
Tabitha was trembling again, and tearful at the thought of her mother.
“Tabitha,” Ondine said softly, “it's time to go.”
Tabitha swallowed hard, and closed her eyes. Through the fear and the panic, her mind was slowly beginning to work. Both of the encounters she'd had with these strange creatures so far had been when she had gone out on the river. It felt like the beasts were coming for her, she thought uneasily. Perhaps they even knew that she'd woken them up when she'd interrupted the dance. And, Tabitha realised, if that was the case, then by staying here she might be putting the rest of the village at a greater risk. But if these people in the place that her mother had told her to go to – this Iron City of hers – if they knew how to defend themselves against these monsters, then they might be able to help her. To help the village.
The magpie nipped at her ear again.
Dimly, Tabitha wondered whether that was why the river had gone so quiet; to warn her, to try to keep her away because it had known of the dangers that were coming; and that thought gave her a kind of dim hope.
She opened her eyes, and looked at her grandmother with a new gleam of resolve. Ondine's own eyes lit up with approval as she saw the expression on Tabitha's face.
“How will I find the Iron City?” Tabitha asked, trying to keep her voice from quaking.
“Follow the river west,” Ondine instructed, businesslike now, “and keep following it until you come to another settlement. They tend to pop up along the riverways. It won't be easy, Tab, but your best bet is to find somewhere that the wandering folk visit often. They travel all over Bretan; they're your best bet of finding this Iron City.”
“Wandering folk,” Tab said in a daze.
Ondine nodded a little impatiently. “The wandering folk are those who've never set down roots, who never come from one place nor's happy to stay in any other place for long. They wander around Bretan, living off the land as they go, and visiting the different villages when they're wanting company.”
Ondine rose shakily to her feet, evidently having decided that their conversation had reached its conclusion, and Tab rose up abruptly after her, disturbing the magpie so that it fluttered back to its companion with an indignant squawk.
“Nana, it's just so soon...”
Ondine didn't give Tab a chance to finish, but enveloped her granddaughter in a bearlike embrace.
“I already packed you up a bag,” she said, without any trace of guilt. She gestured to the corner, where a pack was already made up.
Tabitha picked it up, and the two of them hurried outside. They could hear a commotion already rising from the centre of the village.
“You'd best go off quickly, Tab,” Ondine said nervously.
“But what about you, Nana? Will you be okay?”
Ondine gave her a withering look and declined to answer. She hugged Tabitha again, and gestured towards the towpath leading upriver.
Tab nodded, and bit her lip as her eyes filled with tears. For a moment, she was afraid again; where would she go? She'd never been much farther than the library. She put her hand to her neck, where she still wore her mother's necklace, to draw some comfort, and Ondine's keen eyes caught the movement.
“Wearing that old necklace of your mother's, are you?” she asked, and she sounded surprised.
Tabitha nodded. “I was looking at it the other evening.”
Ondine nodded slowly. “Your mother left it to you for a reason, I suppose,” she muttered, although she looked a little concerned. “Perhaps these folks in the Iron City will know who you are if you show it to them.”
The shouts from the village grew louder, and Ondine snapped her head around to look back in that direction.
“Go on then, love,” she said softly. “I need to go and help in the village now. Don't worry about us; nothing will hurt anyone here while I'm still around.”
Without waiting any longer, Ondine turned and strode down towards the village centre, leaving Tabitha on her own. Before she could dissolve into panic once more, Tabitha hefted the bag Ondine had given her onto her shoulders, and began racing blindly up river. She would race away as fast as she could go, she thought, before she changed her mind and didn't have the courage to leave. So Tabitha fled away from the village, running faster and faster, not daring to look back even once, the river no more than a blurry blue streak at her side.
Tab ran, on and on, until she was breathless. And then suddenly she was drawing closer to the library, the farthest she had ever been from home. She slowed as a thought dawned on her. Could it possibly help her now? Tabitha thought again of how familiar the snake in the river had seemed,
and considered what she had said to her grandmother – that what Ondine was describing sounded very much like the faery stories her mother had read with her as a child. And Ondine had more or less confirmed that thought, hadn't she? Tabitha hovered, and then spun off from the river towards the library.
Praying that this delay wouldn't cost her, she scrambled over the rubble and dropped into the basement, and then raced up the steps as fast as she could to the top floor. Gasping for breath, she dug a hand into her side where she could feel the beginnings of a stitch. But this was the right thing to do – she was sure of it.
Tabitha walked briskly over to the section on fairytales that she had avoided looking through ever since her mother's death. This was hard. But she was convinced that the words would help her, that they might hold the key to whatever was waking up in the river... perhaps she could stay here just a little longer, and read through some of the old stories, and that might suffice instead of racing off to this Iron City. Tabitha looked longingly out of the window, back to the village. But no – her grandmother would never forgive her.
Tabitha took a deep breath and picked up the first book she saw: A Compendium of Faerie. It sounded vaguely familiar, and without the time to pore over each book properly and decide which was the most worthwhile to take with her, this looked as good a book as any. So Tabitha secreted the book in her bag, and took one last long look back towards the village. A strange calm came over her. This wouldn't be goodbye forever.
Tabitha raced back down the library tower, along the river, and away from home.
8
The River Witch Page 6
