The River Witch

by Helena Rookwood

  Tabitha shuffled to her feet and forced her body to move. It always took some effort to get it moving when she first woke up these days. The outdoor life was doing little to keep her limber. But she made herself stretch out her neck and arms, and tentatively took a few steps around the tent. She looked for her pack, instinctively looking for the heavy Compendium which she had used to defend herself several times before. But her pack was nowhere to be seen. Strange.

  A prickle of fear ran down Tabitha's neck again.

  Moving softly to the front of the tent, Tabitha very slightly opened the entrance. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to how light it was outside, the moon once again bright enough to show everything quite clearly, but as she took in the scene before her, Tabitha went rigid with horror.

  Lysander was back – and for a moment her heart leapt – and then it plummeted again as she realised that he was fighting the sprites. She was taking it all in so slowly, and with each detail, she grew more horrified. Lysander was covered in dark patches – and she realised it was blood. His left hand in particular was drenched in it, the moonlight making it glisten and gleam. Ani and Corida were attacking him, and Tabitha paled as she took in the expressions on their faces.

  Had she seen them in any other situation, Tabitha would have sworn that these could not be the same faeries she had called friends. Their expressions were bleak with malice, long claws extended from the fingertips that had so tenderly combed through Tabitha's hair, and their lips had pulled back to reveal rows of teeth dripping with blood – Lysander's blood, she realised, and she felt the same wave of dizziness come over her that she had felt when it had been her own blood.

  Tabitha focused on her breathing, trying to stay calm. And then it occurred to her – where was Bellat? Her eyes roved around the campsite – and then she saw it, a tiny heap on the floor... Tabitha inched forward, squinting to make out what had happened. His tiny body was still writhing in agony, and his wings were lying pathetically to one side of him. He was oozing the same black blood that had gushed out of the kelpie.

  Tabitha could not keep in a cry, and she burst forth from the tent. But the fight only paused for a fraction of a second before Lysander and the sprites began battling all over again.

  Tabitha hesitated, unsure to whom she owed her allegiance. Lysander was bleeding copiously, and the sprites certainly didn't look like the friends she recognised... but then, if he had attacked Bellat... Tabitha thought that she too would have turned on him with every ounce of fury the sprites clearly felt as they launched themselves over and over again at Lysander.

  “Stop!” she cried, suddenly finding her voice.

  But it sounded weak and insubstantial. There was none of the authority her grandmother had been able to summon to her voice whenever she had needed to exercise control over the squabbling villagers at home. And as she saw the skill and brutality of the fight before her, Tabitha felt that she was quite useless anyway, unable to intervene at all. The fight went out of her, and she sank to her knees, tears prickling at her eyes. She was helpless here, as she had been when the river mermaid had attacked her in the village, and as she had been when the kelpie had fooled her. Even if she knew who exactly she ought to be defending right now, she would be no use to them whatsoever.

  Tabitha was so upset watching her friends fight one another, that she didn't notice that Bellat had vanished from where his wings lay severed and useless on the floor. She didn't see him drag himself around the campsite, keeping to the shadows so that he wouldn't be noticed. He was so slight, and she was so distracted, that she didn't even realise when he crept up behind her and began crawling up the back of the blankets she had wrapped around her, to where the back of the leather thong fastening her stone necklace lay against her hair.

  Unseen and unnoticed, Bellat settled on the curve of Tabitha's neck, and began biting quietly through the leather. Although he was in an unbearable amount of pain, he chewed mindlessly at the thin strip of leather until he felt it finally give way...

  And then a number of things happened at once.

  Tabitha looked down in surprise as she heard the thud of the stone on the ground before her.

  Bellat jumped after it, and wrapped his arms and legs right around the stone.

  Ani and Corida instantly forgot their attack on Lysander. Ani flew to the injured Bellat, lifting both him and the stone from the ground with some difficulty, while Corida flew straight at Tabitha's face, swiping viciously across the bridge of her nose and causing her to cry out and shrink back.

  Lysander simply swayed in place, trembling with exhaustion and looking completely aghast as the three sprites hastened into the air.

  And then Tabitha felt something happening to her. It was the thundering of the river; the pounding of the waves against the shore; the force of a waterfall slamming down onto the rocks below. And it raced through her blood, a complete and utter rage that creatures of the river – who had called her sister – should take her mother's token from her.

  As if in a trance, she got swiftly to her feet, and in a furious, definite voice, she said just one word.

  “Stop.”

  The sprites froze mid-air. Tabitha felt the water swell and fill her, and she sensed that the water was in the sprites too. She didn't have to think about it. Tabitha slammed the water back down to the earth, and because they were a part of it, the sprites slammed down with it. As they hit the hard ground below, it was as if some of that water was slammed out of them, spray erupting at the place of impact.

  Tabitha's dark eyes sparkled like moonlight on the river at night. She was the water, and like the moon, she could control it.

  The water around the sprites stirred, spinning, and more water fell out of them, until they were in a thin tower of swirling water. Their sobs became audible over the splashing, but Tabitha ignored them.

  “I trusted you,” she whispered, willing them to explain themselves.

  But the sprites didn't have an answer for her, and so they just sobbed and screamed all the louder. Tabitha lifted a hand, and the tower grew taller, carrying the sprites up with it. Only the stone remained unaffected by Tabitha's water magic, lying heavy on the earth.

  Tabitha felt herself growing giddy. The water was rushing before her eyes, swelling in her ears, chattering about all the things it hadn't said to her in the past few years. It was directionless, confusing chatter, but it was clear on one thing: the sprites had betrayed her. They had betrayed her. The river. It was unacceptable.

  Tabitha raised her hand higher, and the sprites' wailing increased.

  They shouldn't be forgiven for this. The river should come before everything else. Tabitha felt herself disappearing, the noise of the river growing louder.

  Then she felt a hand placed gently on her shoulder.

  “Tab.”

  Someone was speaking softly to her. His voice was familiar.

  Tabitha fought to blink the water from her eyes. Shining through the water was a golden, glowing figure.

  “Lysander...” she said, and as she spoke the water grew calmer.

  The hand on her shoulder squeezed it gently, and Tabitha felt herself drifting back into her body. She let go.

  The water splashed back down to the earth, where her mother's pendant still lay on the ground. The sprites squealed loudly, and without hesitation flew hastily away from the campsite, Ani and Corida supporting the wingless Bellat between the two of them. Tabitha looked at Lysander, and finally she saw him properly.

  He was bloodied all over, looking far worse than she had done after her encounter with the kelpie. His clothing was ripped, his golden hair matted and streaked with blood. His already pale skin had turned even whiter. But Lysander still gave Tabitha's shoulder another reassuring squeeze before he stepped back and stared at her. Tabitha wondered what he must think. She barely understood herself what had just happened. Both of them were panting heavily, trembling with fatigue. There didn't seem to be any words left. All they could do was stare
at one another.

  On the other side of the campsite, the stone pendant was still lying abandoned in the pool of water that Tabitha had summoned. Lysander slowly turned his attention to it, and when he did, so did Tabitha.

  She watched as with great effort Lysander pulled himself together and stumbled over to where it lay on the ground. Tabitha felt a wave of misgiving pass over her again. But her whole body was completely emptied of energy, and her leg was burning with pain after whatever had just happened to her. All she could do was watch Lysander hobble across the campsite, her sense of foreboding increasing.

  Lysander stopped just before where the stone was lying on the ground, and surveyed it critically. Tabitha couldn't read the expression on his face. She watched as he stooped down with an unhappy groan and picked it up from the floor. He turned it over in his hands as though looking for something, waiting for something to happen, and she saw him run his thumb across it in the same way that Tabitha did when she needed comfort. Lysander straightened up again, and after weighing the stone in his hand for a moment, he turned and began walking back across the campsite.

  As he did, Tabitha felt an immense pressure lifting from the back of her head.

  And when Lysander stopped in front of her, after barely a flicker of hesitation, he held out the stone for Tabitha to take back.

  ***

  From a short distance away, all of this was still being observed by Moll.

  She had watched as Lysander had approached the campsite. She had struggled to keep track of him when he had muttered the shadow-word and slipped out of sight, but she had assumed that he had simply proceeded to the campsite, so she had stopped a little way away, and waited.

  After so long worrying over whether Lysander was still acting on behalf of the Iron Court, Moll had been immensely nervous to discover that he had apparently parted ways with the girl without the hagstone and without incapacitating her. So she had been relieved to watch him sneak back to the campsite under the cover of night. Everything was going as she had hoped it would.

  But then Lysander's shadow magic had suddenly been stripped away, and Moll had been snapped straight out of her relaxed observation. She had watched, anguished, as her friend had fought with the fae. She had felt every bite, every scratch as the little folk picked away at his defences. And she had been frightened, terrified by their skill. If even these tiny things could so totally unsettle Lysander, with all his abilities, what would the bigger fae be capable of? Yet even as such terrible things were happening to her friend, Moll couldn't help also feeling terribly relieved. The fae were friends with the girl, and they were attacking Lysander, no doubt trying to prevent him from stealing the hagstone. And this meant, to her relief, that she could trust her friend after all. Moll longed to help Lysander, but she didn't dare intervene unless she was sure beyond any doubt that he was about to fail. She was under strict instructions not to let him know that he was being followed.

  But then everything changed. The girl emerged from her tent, and this in itself confused Moll. Had Lysander not dealt with her? But Moll had barely had time to process this before the girl rushed out into the clearing, and then sunk to her knees. Moll frowned, wishing that she was just a bit closer so that she could better to see what was happening. She put her hands to her knives, preparing to go in and give Lysander the assistance he needed to finish this fight; but thank the Court that she had not acted a minute sooner, because then the girl began to act in a way that worried Moll very much indeed.

  Something about the girl changed – from this distance, she looked indistinct, like water – and she began speaking in a voice which made the earth tremble, even so far away as Moll was hiding. And it seemed to Moll that this girl was the water, and she was collecting more water into a strange tower before her. Moll felt herself quaking with fear; this was magic unlike anything she had ever seen.

  Lysander began inching ever so slowly towards the girl, until he stopped right in front of her, his hand hovering a little way away from her before he finally placed it on her shoulder. This seemed to wake her from whatever magical trance she had gone into, and Moll watched, aghast, as the water retreated, the girl came back to her senses, and the threat seemed to pass. The fae that the girl had been traveling with fled and Moll watched as Lysander walked over to the hagstone. She put her hands to her knives once more. If he was injured and needed help escaping, she would assist – no matter what her instructions. Moll let out a sigh of relief. Of course Lysander was following the Iron Court's instructions.

  But then Lysander began walking back over to where the girl was still standing, and Moll stiffened. What was he doing?

  Her friend held out a hand, and Moll watched in anguish as he handed the hagstone back to the girl.

  Moll let out a low hiss. He had betrayed her. He was no friend of hers.

  Without giving Lysander any longer to prove otherwise, Moll turned on her heel and raced back to the Iron City to tell the Court what she had seen.

  28

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  The dawn broke with Lysander and Tabitha still sitting silently side-by-side in front of the tent. In spite of his injuries, Lysander had breathed fresh life into the fire, and Tabitha had gratefully sunk down next to it. He disappeared into her tent to retrieve the spirit she had used to treat her own wounds yesterday, and poured it liberally over the slice on his left hand. Lysander didn't cry out, but Tabitha watched as the blood drained from his face. He didn't attempt to use it on any of the other surface wounds on his own body, but dabbed a little very gently onto the slice across Tabitha's nose.

  Neither of them slept. Each time there was any flutter of movement, they both jumped anxiously, watching nervously in case the sprites had returned. But they didn't. Evidently Tabitha's outburst had scared them off. Tabitha wasn't sure whether her outburst had scared her, too.

  The more she thought about it, the more uncertain Tabitha felt about her strange relationship with the river. She remembered what she had read in

  The sky was still clear, but as the morning sun hit the fields around them it coaxed a mist from the ground, softening everything. The light was warm and pinkish, and it should have been beautiful. But for some reason it brought tears to Tabitha's eyes.

  “Are you okay?” Lysander asked. His voice was hoarse.

  Tabitha nodded. She was glad he had broken the silence, but she still couldn't bring herself to speak.

  “I'm sorry I left,” Lysander said. “I should never have left you alone with them, suspecting what I did. I will never forgive myself for abandoning you to them.”

  “No, I'm sorry,” Tabitha said quickly. “I should never have trusted them. I don't know what they wanted with my necklace, but obvious that's the only reason they had any interest in me at all.”

  Lysander couldn't look at her, and Tabitha wondered whether her magical outburst had frightened him as much as it had frightened her.

  “I suppose you won't want anything to do with me now,” she said dully.

  Lysander turned and looked at her seriously. “I promise, I will never leave you to be hurt like that again. Why wouldn't I want anything to do with you?”

  “The water,” Tabitha stammered, and tears were trickling down her face now, “I didn't mean for it to happen like that... I could hurt anyone, even you...”

  Lysander's face softened.

  “You think I'm staying here just for

  Tabitha gave a small smile, and began turning her mother's pendant over in her hands. She felt Lysander's eyes drift down towards it.

  “What is that?” he asked.

  Tabitha sighed. In the warmth and crackle of the fire, she resolved to finally tell him everything.

  “It was a keepsake from my mother,” she said, and then she paused, unsure how to explain everything. “I don't know what the sprites wanted with it. But I think I ought to tell you... those sprites... they weren't the first fae I've come across,” she said finally.

  Lysander stayed qu
iet, allowing her to talk.

  “I come from a village on a river – as far east in Bretan as you can get, my grandmother always said. I grew up in and out of the river. Only just recently, the river stopped being safe – fae started appearing in there.”

  Tabitha swallowed, and added in a whisper, “I think I might have caused it.”

  “How?” Lysander looked baffled.

  “I told you before that I had stumbled across something happening in the woods,” Tabitha said unhappily. “The people in cloaks and hoods, dancing together... I didn't tell you everything. I accidentally distracted one of the dancers, and then something – something happened, although I couldn't tell you exactly what. And it was the next day that these creatures started appearing in the river. It's my fault.”

  Lysander remained quiet, so Tabitha ploughed on.

  “My grandmother told me that my mother left a message for me before she died. She said that if the fae started coming back, then I should find somewhere called the Iron City – that it was the safest place to go if ever the fae returned, and that they might be able to help the village. Only, I don't know where I'm going... I was hoping to find people along the way who might help me. I don't suppose... I mean, you've traveled all over Bretan... I don't suppose you know where it is?”

  ***

  Tabitha's wide, hopeful eyes were trained upon Lysander, and more than the confusion and fright he still felt regarding the previous night, more even than the pain from the wounds covering his body, Lysander felt guilty.

  “No,” he said, shaking his head and trying to look regretful. “No, I'm afraid I don't.”

  Of all the things Tabitha could have told him, this was surely the worst. Lysander didn't know what to make of her claim that she was responsible for the fae waking up, although it did correlate with his own observations of her when she had been in the village. But he did know that the last place she ought to go now was the Iron City, who had sent him after her in the first place.