The Codex of the Witch: Fantasy Novel

by Federico Negri

  “Recover? From where?”

  “It’s a complicated story, Sister; a witch under my command embarked on a Cerriwden airship.”

  “And what need is there to send a Swiss man to recover her? The Cerriwdens will be here within a matter of days; they’re registered for the Sabbath.”

  “Indeed. Perhaps it was an unnecessary precaution on my part, but we are talking about my niece and the Cerriwdens have adopted a peculiar mode of comportment toward me. Anyway,” Kasia turns to look straight at Franziska, who is staring at her, “we will all speak about it together, when they’ve returned.”

  “And this man?” Viscount points her finger at the silent American.

  “Allow me to introduce myself.” He places a hand on his chest. “Guild Poe and I am the bearer of a small book containing a message written for you.”

  “Hm.” The young woman fights with the rebellious curl, pushing it back behind her ear and it clings to her worn shawl. “Santuini, you’ve led foreign airships close to our docks. You recount absurd, improbable stories and you present yourself accompanied by every sort of—”

  “Eleanor,” Kasia stretches a hand over the table and delicately taps her fingernails on the wood, “I ask you moderate your impressions. Gothland is an open port, the Baron’s Scourge has asked to dock and it has every right to do so. I keep some bizarre company, I grant you that, but I assure you there are much stranger kinds roaming around old Europe. I just need to escort these two people to the sage Serena Goldenbit. After which we’ll put an end to the disturbance and I promise you not even a rat will climb down from the Baron’s Scourge. No one else will set foot in Gothland.”

  “Why in the world? What, is it forbidden?” Franziska explodes.

  Viscount stares at the German woman with her eyes suddenly dark and an icy sensation instantly spreads across the small room.

  “Sister!” Kasia orders. “Now stop it! These are my passengers, and they’ve paid to come here. Because of which they’ve disembarked with me. If you wish to impede me, the Council will rule on an injunction. Otherwise apply the laws of the Palatinate and the code of navigation, for demon’s sake!”

  The cold feeling withdraws toward Viscount as water sucked back in by a sponge.

  “That’s fine,” the witch finishes. “You may bring them to Goldenbit’s, roundtrip, without deviations or guided tours.”

  “I, however, will do what I like, witch!” Franziska answers back, placing the sole of her boot on the table’s edge. “I have more rights here than a hundred of you, servants to the English.”

  Viscount watches her as if she were a talking horse, but she doesn’t respond. She rises from the table and turns to Kasia with a slight smile. “The disembarked foreigners are Captain Santuini’s personal responsibility. The German airship will receive its permission to dock according to the regulations in force. Good day, Sister.”

  The other two witches hasten to leave the room, followed by Viscount who closes the door behind her, without deigning to give Kasia another look.

  ***

  The trio find themselves travelling along the trails crossing the island, blazed in the middle of the grassy expanses and deep forests that dot the country. The witches prefer to live apart in little huts hidden among the flora, each clan secluded from the others. The Goldenbits’ home sits close to a cliff several miles walk from the port of Visby. Franziska was forced to leave her weapons on board the ship, as required by local laws, but Kasia hid a knife in her boot. She fears the woman’s tricks, but nevertheless she couldn’t ask for a special escort or permission to carry arms, otherwise her visit would have suffered too many bureaucratic hold ups. It’s already a miracle young Eleanor let them pass without convening the Council.

  At the end of the small hill they’re climbing, on the headland swept by briny wind, stands a hut with a yellow straw roof, amid a few twisted plants.

  Kasia stops a dozen yards from the garden path. “You wait here.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it, Santuini. I want to hear what you have to say to that crone.”

  “On the contrary, you will wait here and you too, Guild Poe. When I give you a nod, you’ll answer the old woman’s question. And they must be honest answers because that one can distinguish truth from lies in unprepared minds such as yours. In mine, we shall see. Give me the codex, Guild Poe.”

  The clay path leads to a vegetable garden, beyond the oak branches, where various medicinal plants grow. It hasn’t escaped Kasia that the centenarian witch watches her from the shack’s courtyard, accompanied by a little girl with blonde hair and a face filled with freckles.

  Kasia heads up the walkway stopping a couple yards away from the pair.

  Serena Goldenbit looks like a toad; she has a face covered with sagging wrinkles and a round bent shape. She seems even smaller and more shriveled than the last time she saw her, but her sky blue eyes are still sharp.

  “Kasia Santuini,” she mutters with the few teeth she has left.

  “Greetings, Serena. How are you?”

  “The potion is no longer working and so I am dying, as you can see. You however are always in splendid form.” The woman hugs herself in her grey robe, worn by years of use. “You haven’t overlooked a thing. You’re very elegant, you don’t even look like one of us.”

  “The world out there is complicated, Serena. It’s better to appear elegant, I assure you.”

  “This is my great, great grandniece, Lingam.” The young girl gives a hint of a smile and lowers her eyes, but Goldenbit continues, paying no mind. “What do you want, Kasia? Who are those people?”

  Kasia motions with her head as she says, “The German woman is a rich trader in antiques. The black man is… it’s a long story.”

  “Why are you here?”

  “I need your help, wise Serena. A powerful witch, months ago now, encoded a secret in this book,” Kasia pulls the leather notebook out from under her cape. “A man has crossed the ocean to bring it to you, but we don’t know why in the world she’s chosen a Goldenbit or how she knew your name.”

  “You’re pulling my leg?” The old woman narrows her shrewd little eyes.

  “You can read it if you like, Serena. Anyway, know that I have never been more serious in my life. Aren’t you curious? I assure you that since I’ve gotten my hands on it, I haven’t been able to fight the urge to learn what might be written in it.”

  “I could read it. I think, however, that the writer did not plan on you knowing what it says. Otherwise she would have addressed it to you.”

  Kasia lets her hand fall into her lap and twists her mouth. “Come on, Sister. I brought it here for you.”

  “In reality,” Goldenbit strikes her index finger against her chin, “you need what’s written inside it. You’re not just curious.”

  Kasia lowers her voice. “It’s an unbelievable deal. Of course I need it. That German woman will compensate me for this secret.”

  “And me, what will I earn?”

  Kasia shrugs. “You’ll satisfy your curiosity. They wrote it for you. If I give it to you, you’ll read it, otherwise, nothing. Perhaps it’s a legacy or a secret grimoire, or maybe it contains information on the end of the world, what do I know.”

  “You haven’t read it?”

  “I wasn’t allowed to open it and it’s in code, thus I wouldn’t have understood it. I don’t know how you may be able to decipher it, but you’re the addressee.”

  “You thought you’d come here, pique my curiosity and make yourself a boat load of money from my sweat and from those two stupid carrot-eaters? You’re crazy, Santunini.”

  Kasia raises her hands. “Excuse me if I disturbed you while you were watching the plants slowly grow from the soil. Please, return to your activities. I’ll look for another sister and pass her off as a Goldenbit. You think those two would know the difference?”

  “Half. I want half your payment.”

  Kasia stomps her feet on the ground. “I travelled a good chunk of the
world for this deal. And you just need to read a worthless book—ten, fifteen pages in total.”

  “Who is the black man?”

  “He’s… nobody, it’s just the Sabbath is soon and I’ve brought myself a little diversion.”

  “You like little old men?”

  “You have no idea who he is, that one. I bought him at the Frank Fort market, for a hundred thousand pieces. You know what they call him in his Country?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “The dark piston.” Kasia winks at the girl, who lets out a little laugh.

  “Puah! I don’t believe it,” Goldenbit exclaims.

  “You’re free not to. But know that they say he’s gifted with a special animal vibration which, when he has sex with a witch, carries her in no time at all beyond the highest crests of pleasure.”

  “Kasia, you’re pulling my leg. A hundred thousand pieces is a fortune.”

  “Business has been going well lately. You were once good at reading into people’s hearts and I don’t want to leave you in any doubt; there’s certain subjects one doesn’t joke about. Guild Poe!”

  “Yes?” the other answers from the distance.

  “Who’s the last woman you brought to bed? A witch?”

  “Uh, Kasi…”

  “Answer! Honestly!”

  Goldenbit stares at him and Kasia can almost feel her magic perception stretching itself out to brush against the consciousness of her two guests.

  “Yes, a witch.”

  “See?” says Kasia, returning her voice to normal. “He did it for work.” She rubbed two fingers together simulating money. “Understand? Now, will you read the codex?”

  “Will you give me half of what you agreed upon with your client?”

  Kasia shakes her head, with a wounded air, as if she were feeling a toothache coming on in a port without a dentist. Then she shouts, “Franziska! Remember what you owe me?”

  “Of course, Santuini.”

  “We’ll split it, Serena Goldenbit and myself. Is that okay with you?”

  “Why in the world?” the other screams.

  “Because otherwise she won’t read the codex.”

  The old woman stares intensely at the Teutonic woman, attempting to work out her intentions. After a few long seconds, she answers, “Very well. But let’s get a move on!”

  Kasia holds the codex out to Goldenbit. “Agreed?”

  Goldenbit almost tears it out of her hand. You curious, dusty old harpy, Kasia thinks. Not a lot of interesting things happen in these parts, do they?

  The venerated sorceress undoes the leather lace and opens the notebook. The pages are covered in small dense handwriting; it seems to repeat the same words ad infinitum.

  Goldenbit reads aloud: “‘Bring the lost dresses back into the light, overturn the cart under the gate, remember the time you saw the graves.’ That’s it.” She leafs through the pages stopping to read every so often, then she stares at Kasia with an interrogative air.

  “That doesn’t mean anything to you?” Kasia presses her.

  “I think it’s a spell,” Goldenbit mutters. “No one would get it in their head to write the exact same verses a hundred times. However it was hidden deep. Perhaps in the pages themselves.” She rubs the paper between her thumb and index finger.

  “I’ve never heard of magic of that nature.”

  “You Santuinis stick to worrying about the price of potatoes,” she gives a knowing look in her niece’s direction, “and leave the witchcraft to the wiser clans. You need to study to learn! For you it’s enough to feel the demon and push him against your loins to feel like you’ve learned magic! Your great aunt, Jolanta, learned the bare minimum, back in the day. But then who knows why she wanted to buy that infernal machine. That air… air…”

  “Airship,” says the very young witch.

  “Your niece seems sharper than you, Serena. Regardless,” Kasia raises her hands to cut off the other’s reprimand, “can we awaken this magic, assuming it’s there?”

  “Bah! Of course we can. Come, Lingam, let’s see if your Aunt Ristapor, that mess of my grand niece’s, taught you anything useful. Kasia, you be our third.”

  With some effort, Serena places the open book in the grass and the three witches arrange themselves around it, taking one another’s hands.

  “We won’t summon the demons. The book’s spell might be hostile, and the beasts would turn against us. We’ll simply intone a song of transcendence; if there’s any magic content, it will manifest itself.”

  “Grade school stuff,” Kasia mumbles. “I don’t have time to stand here and sing all afternoon.”

  “Sometimes the simplest magic is the most powerful. Now focus.”

  Serena Goldenbit starts reciting an old nursery rhyme in a hushed voice:

  Look at Mery, with the crazy eyes,

  who instead of children just has toys

  First comes fire that burns the hair

  Then sadness steals all trust and care

  The other witches play charades

  remember magic lessons from childhood days.

  Third is the storm that the whole world drowns

  That rips apart the sobbing clowns

  Escape Mery, with the crazy eyes

  Or soon you will not have your toys.

  The three women continue to chant until their voices fall into unison and adjust themselves into a single tone as if uttered by the same person. The little song acquires a rhythm and depth, and Kasia feels the world around them slowly vanish into the fog.

  Now all that exists is the three of them—voice, hands, and minds welded together in the never-ending repetition of the nursery rhyme.

  The book’s pages start to move as if an invisible wind leafs through it. First one at a time then ever more frenetically. The witches don’t stop their song until a light flows out from the sheets, illuminating the mist that enshrouds them.

  A female figure takes form in the projection over the book. Its curves are confused and trembling, but one can clearly make out the long wavy hair and the grave expression. She wrinkles her lips as if she were whispering something and with every word stretches a smoky hand in front of her.

  “Keep singing under your breath,” Serena.

  The other two witches lower their chorus to a whisper until they can make out the faint words the specter is pronouncing.

  “Serena Goldenbit,” the apparition repeats over and over, holding out a hand.

  The old woman reaches out her gnarled fingers until they meet those of the spirit. The apparition stops motionless, until a luminous shiver crosses it.

  “Venerable Serena,” the entity says, with a voice frail as a sigh, “I am Arabel Esteay, instructed in the Rule of Fire in Salem, Massachusetts. I recorded this memory in a book because I wasn’t sure I would manage to survive the crossing and, if you are seeing this, it means I didn’t make it.” The shadow of a smile plays over the specter’s ethereal visage. “I gave your name because it was the only magic signal of a European witch still living where we knew. You shared in the Grand Assembly of the Eclipse two centuries ago when all the witches of the world summoned their demons simultaneously. The magic forces were so powerful that some enchanted creatures rode along the Earth’s magnetic lines, reflecting their true form to the other witches across all six continents. My great aunt participated in it and, before she died last spring, she transferred to me the imprint of your spirit, the winged griffon; I still sense its pulse. Now the book’s words will be clear since contact with you dispelled the cipher. You are the only hope for containing the madness of Lionel, the enchanter who ravages our lands. We tried it, but he was too powerful and his end goal is in Europe, so only you, who are more unified and organized, can stop him. The carrot-eaters won’t manage it, rather they’ll fall like flies in a spider’s web. Share the contents of this book with your sisters, but no being other than a witch must ever learn its secret because we risk extermination. Good luck and…” Arabel lowers her gaz
e, “if I may, I commend to you the soul of this book’s bearer, in the event he at least managed to cross the oceans. His name is Guild Poe and he is a gentle person, who sincerely loves us. Farewell.”

  “Why—” Kasia tries, but the phantasm starts up again with the same phrase she began with “Venerable Serena. I am Arabel Esteay, instructed in the Rule of Fire at…”

  “It’s just an image, it won’t respond to your questions,” Goldenbit admonishes her and then she motion for her niece to stop singing.

  The magic spirit dissolves in the air together with the fog encircling them.

  Franziska and Guild Poe moved closer and watch from a couple yards away.

  Goldenbit stares at Kasia in silence with her mouth open slightly like a slit.

  With a deliberate pace, Kasia kneels down and gathers up the book.

  “Lingam,” the elderly witch exclaims. “Go call your aunt. And Zippel too, from the other side of the river. Run!”

  “Hey! Did you decipher the document?” Franziska harasses them.

  Kasia doesn’t dignify her with a response and slides the codex under her jacket. “Forgive me, Serena.”

  “You,” Goldenbit jabs her with her index finger, “you show up at my house, trick me and then expect me to forgive you? I’ll drag you before the Council! That object isn’t yours, you have no right to take it away with you.”

  “Indeed I’m just bringing it aboard my ship. We’re not safe here.”

  “Kasia,” Guild Poe interjects, “she’s right. It was written for all of you. Summon the other witches.”

  “You and Arabel lived under the delusion that here we are united, strong, and that we can act motivated by common interest. It’s not like that! The war knocked us down leaving us divided, unsure, afraid. By the hundreds, our sisters burn on stakes throughout all Europe, every year. Superstition and prejudice follow us; we’re barely tolerated in the Palatinate. How can we take upon ourselves the burden of a task like this?”

  “Hey, you brought the problem, you manage it!” Goldenbit orders her with her finger raised.