The River Witch

by Helena Rookwood

  Mica tutted.

  “Well, get them out and I'll see what I can do.”

  “Thank you so much,” Tabitha said. “I don't know how to thank you for all this. You're being so generous.”

  “We want to hear your stories,” Mica said with a gleam in her eye. “Those are worth more'n a place to sleep and some food in your belly.”

  Tabitha was left in a separate room to wash herself. The room was empty save for a large basin of water sat to one side, a cloth, a bar of soap, and some rags to dry herself, and Tabitha was elated. She washed slowly, digging out every speck of dirt she could find. She was surprised how quickly the dirt had stopped bothering her when she had been alone with the sprites, but she was also surprised to realise how desperate she was to be clean now that she was back in the company of other humans. Plus, she thought, combing her fingers through the wet strands of her hair, who knew when she would next get a chance to wash like this? There certainly wasn't any place at home that had a room just for bathing in. So she took her time, until she was sure she was spotless, and then dried herself off.

  She was reluctantly considering putting on the dirty clothes she had been travelling in before when there was a tap from outside the door.

  “Pass me out those dirty clothes of yours,” Mica instructed. “I'll wash 'em with the others. You can wear something of mine tonight, although I'm sure they aren't going to fit you.”

  Tabitha exchanged her filthy travelling wear for the clothes Mica passed back to her. They weren't all that dissimilar from what she would wear at home, she thought – although as Mica had predicted, far too big for her. She looked down at herself. She had grown thin from too much walking and too little food. She sighed. There was nothing she could do about it. Shrugging off her disgruntlement with her own figure, Tabitha slipped Mica's clothes on and padded back through to where her host was plunging her clothes into a basin of water full of soap and dried lavender.

  “Thank you,” Tabitha said, for want of a better way of expressing just how grateful she was.

  “It's no problem,” Mica smiled. “We'll get these rinsed out now and hang 'em out to dry. Can't have you haring off in the state you arrived here!”

  “Can I help with anything?” Tab asked.

  “Now you're a guest, and guests are very rare here,” Mica chastised her, “so we treat 'em right. You don't need to do anything. Frey'll be back soon, and then he can show you around the rest of the village if you'd like. But more'n anything you look like you could use some sleep in a proper bed.”

  Tabitha could have cried.

  “Yes, I thought so,” Mica said gently, seeing the look on her guest's face. “Travelling folks are just the same. And you aren't even one of them – imagine a young thing like you having to sleep rough every night.”

  Tabitha was directed into Mica's own room.

  “It'll be a bed made up on the living room floor tonight,” she said, “so you should enjoy this for now.”

  Tabitha collapsed onto the bed, and after so many nights on the cold, hard ground outside, she fell asleep immediately.

  ***

  Tabitha was awoken many hours later by a gentle hand on her shoulder. She groaned, having to force her eyes open. She had been so comfortable in bed.

  “Come on then, lass,” Mica said enthusiastically. “The whole village is getting together because you're here. It'll be a right old party! We're all dying to hear everything about you.”

  Tabitha's stomach grumbled. She must have missed lunch with all the excitement.

  Mica grinned. “There'll be plenty to eat, too.”

  That was enough to get Tabitha scrambling out of bed. And Mica hadn't lied. When they arrived at what Mica said was the village hall, where all of the villagers had gathered, she was greeted by tables laden with food. There was a meat she didn't recognise cooked with apples, a stew of root vegetables, plates of hot buttered potatoes and heavy loaves of bread. Fruit had been arranged on vast wooden platters, but Tabitha was drawn to the farmed vegetables. She hadn't tasted any of them since she'd left her own village.

  “Some of it's leftovers from harvest,” Mica confessed, “but we've done what we can.”

  “It looks brilliant,” Tabitha enthused. “Honestly. I can't wait to try it all.”

  Tabitha was sat at the top table, along with Mica and some older villagers who smiled and greeted her politely, and didn't say anything when she piled her plate high with potatoes.

  “We'll send you off with some decent supplies tomorrow,” Mica winked.

  Tabitha ate, and ate, and ate some more. The meat was rich and delicious, and a welcome change after so many days of fish.

  “What is this?” she asked Mica as she swallowed a large mouthful.

  “This is pork, my love,” Mica told her in surprise. “Haven't you ever had pork before?”

  “Pork?”

  “Pork!” Mica exclaimed wildly. “Don't you eat pigs where you come from?”

  “No one keeps pigs,” Tabitha said. “We have a few cows, which sometimes we eat if things get hard in the winter, and sheep for wool. But mostly we eat fish, or birds, or chickens once they stop laying.”

  “Stop right there!” one of the men at the table cried indignantly. “If you're already telling stories, we all want to hear!”

  The chorus was taken up by the rest of the table, and then the rest of the room quietened. They all looked eagerly at Tabitha.

  “I was just saying,” she said nervously, “that I've never eaten pork before. And it is completely delicious.”

  A cheer went up, and some of Tabitha's nerves disappeared.

  “Where I come from,” she began, “We mainly eat fish. Our village is on the edge of a river – which is bigger than any river I've seen in the time that I've been walking. We build our homes from the mud of the river as well as wood. It's much smaller than here, and the houses aren't so close together, but then there's far fewer of them. And the plants and animals around us don't stop where our houses begin, but wander in and out of the houses. It's just a short sail downriver to the sea.”

  “The sea!” a little girl cried from the audience. “Tell us more about the sea!”

  “Ah, the sea,” Tabitha said, getting into her stride. “It's like... like the river has overrun its edges, like water spilling from a bowl and creating a huge puddle on the ground. Except it never stays that way – some days it's still like that, others it can be angry, all churned up like someone's kicking and splashing in it. You can always see far into the distance, to where the sea touches the sky. On hazy days, the two seem to run together, so that the blue stretches away from your feet and curves right back round above you.”

  Appreciative sounds rose up from her audience, and Tabitha looked round to see wide enraptured eyes. She understood, suddenly, why anyone would want to wander the country instead of putting down roots in one place.

  “Unlike the water here, seawater is full of salt,” she continued, “which runs up into our stretch of river too.” She frowned. “I don't know when it turns to fresh... I should have checked...” She caught herself faltering, and carried on more confidently. “The river is the centre of everything for us. We swim in it, play in it, fish for food in it. It's what breathes life into our tiny village.”

  Here Tabitha paused. Should she tell them about the creatures in the river? It would make a marvellous story... But, thinking that she'd finished talking, chatter had started up again in the room and the moment passed.

  “Wonderful,” Mica said, leaning over and squeezing Tabitha's arm. “These are perfect fodder for the stories we need to keep us going when the nights get longer.”

  “You're very welcome,” Tabitha said, “you've been so kind to me.”

  “You know,” Mica said conspiratorially, “we have so many young men of about your age, and so few girls. Are you sure we can't tempt you to stay?”

  “Sorry?” Tabitha replied blankly.

  “You know,” Mica said with a wink, �
��hasn't any young man here caught your eye? They've all been staring at you.”

  “Oh!” Tabitha blushed a deep red as she realised what she was suggesting. “That's – that's very kind of you, but I really need to find my mother's village.”

  “Oh,” Mica said, and she gave a shrug. “Well, I had to ask. My Frey would be a good catch you know.”

  “Of course,” Tab stammered. “This is just something I have to do.”

  There was an awkward silence, as Tabitha tried to think of a way out of this. She was sure no one here had been looking at her anyway – or if they had, that it was only because she had been telling stories. Hoping it would distract Mica from her disappointment, Tabitha plunged in with the question she had been meaning to ask since she got here.

  “Actually,” she said hopefully, “I wanted to ask whether you might have heard of it. The place I'm trying to find, I mean. It's called the Iron City. I don't suppose you know anything about it?”

  Mica frowned. “That's a very strange name, so I'm sure I would remember if I'd heard of it. But I'm afraid I don't think I have.”

  “Oh.” Tabitha sank back in her chair, disappointed. She added dispiritedly, “And there's not anyone else in the village I could ask?”

  “You've seen how it is.” Mica spread her arm out, gesturing to the gathered villagers. “If someone's visiting, the whole village comes out to hear what they have to say. If someone had visited here with word of your Iron City, everyone would know about it.”

  Tabitha tried not to let her disappointment show.

  “I'm sorry, lass,” Mica said. “There's another village a little south of here – perhaps you could try there? Or if you bump into any of the travelling folk, they might be able to tell you.”

  Tabitha nodded glumly. This was more or less what her grandmother had said.

  “Do you know how I might find some of them?”

  Mica shook her head, but patted Tabitha gently on the arm, her disappointment over Tabitha's rejection of Frey clearly forgotten. “We see them rarely enough here. Who knows where they go when they're in between places.”

  Tabitha carried on answering questions about her home for as long as the villagers wanted her to, doing her best to remain bright and cheerful. But she couldn't help feeling disheartened. It had seemed so promising when she'd seen the smoke in the distance. But apart from the mass of potato currently sitting in her belly, she had gained nothing.

  When the food was almost all gone and the majority of the village had left for bed, Mica guided Tabitha back to the house. The bed that had been made up for her in the living room was quite comfortable, but when she tried to sleep she found that her mind was racing. Despondent, Tabitha lay in bed playing with the stone hanging around her neck. She had hoped that it might bring her luck in her search for her mother, but so far she didn't seem to be getting anywhere at all.

  Eventually Tabitha fell into a fitful sleep with the stone clutched tightly in her hand.

  14

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  There were muffled shouts and screams coming from – somewhere. A crash, and then people crying out. Tabitha blearily opened her eyes, a little disorientated. Where was she?

  She fumbled around her, blinking rapidly as she adjusted to the morning light. Sleep was slow to leave her, but gradually Tabitha felt the previous evening's events come back to her as she returned to consciousness, interspersed with the sounds of chaos outside. More crashes followed, and a scream. Tabitha sat up, alert now. What on earth was going on outside?

  Unnerved, Tabitha hastened out of bed and crept through to where her clothes were drying in the next room. They were still a little damp, but she hastily dragged on one set anyway, and then after a moment packed the rest away. Her body was tingling. Something was really not right. Tabitha packed up the rest of her things, something in her telling her that she might not want to linger here for too much longer before heading back to where the sprites would be waiting for her at the lake. Hoisting the pack onto her back, Tabitha rushed outdoors, and then froze in horror in the doorway.

  The streets were overrun with faeries of all shapes and sizes. They were clambering up the walls of buildings, swarming in and out of windows, urinating into the well and racing out of peoples' homes with their arms overflowing with stolen food. Others were high up at the top windows of a house, tearing open pillows and shaking them out of the windows so that feathers rained down like snow. Several stranger-looking creatures were dancing around the little girl who had asked Tabitha about the sea yesterday, and who was now sat perfectly still with a glazed, unseeing expression on her face as they moved around her. Tabitha blanched, wondering what had happened to so completely unhinge the little girl from what was going on around her.

  More shouts came from the entrance to the village, and Tabitha left the safety of the house – if anywhere was safe in this village now – and skirted along the walls to the main gate, still hauling her pack with her.

  Villagers were rushing in from the fields. The fences were all down, the sheep were racing round in mindless terror, and the cows were backed into a corner against the houses, panicking as more of the faeries hollered and whooped and laughed at them. There was a real risk they were going to damage the village buildings, Tabitha thought in anguish. This was where the shouting was coming from; the men were all yelling at each other, trying to coordinate themselves so that they could restore some sense of order before one of them was trampled. One of the men, evidently tired of trying to decide on some sort of plan, ignored the others and leapt straight into the fray to try to calm the cattle, but in the commotion one of the bullocks caught the man with its horn, ripping a long, red streak across his arm.

  Tabitha went white.

  “You!”

  An angry voice behind her made Tabitha jump. She turned slowly round to face a gaggle of furious villagers. It had been Mica who had shouted, and she stormed right up to Tabitha.

  “You brought them here!” she cried in a high, shrill voice. “What is this that you've brought into our village?”

  “I... I didn't mean to...” Tabitha stammered.

  “We gave you a place to sleep. We shared our food with you!” Mica cried hysterically. “Why would you bring these creatures here?”

  “No, I didn't mean to, I mean, I didn't – ”

  “Get out!” Mica shouted. “Get out and take them with you!”

  “I can't.” Tabitha was almost in tears now. “I don't know how.”

  The other villagers were shouting too now, their voices joining in with Mica's. They accused Tabitha of all sorts of things, some of which couldn't possibly be related to the chaos they had woken up to this morning. And, distantly, beneath the panic and the upset, some part of Tabitha's mind was still working, and it detected a subtle shift in the atmosphere. The anger that had been directed at the faeries causing havoc in the village was now, slowly, shifting onto her...

  Tabitha ran. She didn't stop or so much as look back. She didn't worry about what they must think, or what would happen when they were left alone with the faeries. She just ran, and ran, as fast as she could, away from the danger from both the faeries and the villagers, back to where she had promised the sprites she would meet them by the lake.

  She collapsed on the bank when she arrived, her lungs burning. She vomited up yesterday's potatoes, and then crawled over to the edge of the lake, washing her mouth out. The tears were trickling down her face, but the still-functioning part of her mind that was looking out for her told her that this was the result of shock and fear rather than that she was truly upset. She was upset not to have found out anything more about her mother, but she hadn't brought those faeries to the village. The villagers had treated her cruelly. She didn't need to be upset, because it wasn't her fault. Was it?

  The sprites emerged from the water and clustered around her.

  “Poor, dear sister,” they crooned, stroking her hair and her face.

  “I'm okay,” she sniffed. “B
ut they didn't know anything.”

  “You should have stayed with us, Tab,” Ani said sadly. “We wouldn't treat you so badly.”

  “I had to try,” Tabitha said tearfully.

  The sprites huddled around her, wrapping their limbs around her as though she was one of them, and Tabitha let them comfort her.

  “A whole host of faeries arrived,” she sniffed. “They overran the village...”

  “Not river faeries,” Corida said quickly. “We would never go into a village – we told you, sister, we don't go there.”

  “No, I know,” Tabitha reassured him. “I just... I thought you might know why...”

  The sprites all shook their heads.

  “The villagers were so angry,” Tabitha wept, “and I didn't even do anything wrong.”

  The sprites stayed quiet for once, and let Tabitha cry as she told them everything.

  15

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Lysander's resolve was strong. He really was going to do it this time. He would take the hagstone, if the girl had it – and he would make sure he found out if she did. He would not fail the Iron Court a second time.

  Lysander had picked up Tabitha's trail a little while ago now, having ridden the stolen horse back to where he'd left her near the old library. Having realised that she was simply following the river, he had been able to cover the ground between them very swiftly while she made very slow, meandering progress as a result of never leaving the river bank. Based on this, it was likely, Lysander thought, that Tabitha had not simply fled her village in a blind panic when the fae had arrived, but was travelling with some intent. However, if she thought that the best way of making progress was to follow the river, then this also suggested to him that she had probably never travelled far beyond her village before. Someone used to travelling wouldn't bother staying so stubbornly close to the river, which wound back and forth across the countryside. So why had she been sent away from the village? Was she spiriting away the hagstone?