A Witch's Rite

by N. E. Conneely

Patrick swore. "That can't be good."

  "When was the last time something good happened?" I asked tiredly.

  The tractor revved its engine. I took a step back.

  It crept forward a couple of feet, and I exchanged a look with Patrick. Grumbling, it started in our direction. I thought about standing my ground, but it sped up.

  "Run!" I turned and took off.

  Patrick apparently didn't linger, because in a moment he was next to me.

  I pointed my wand behind me and tried to trap the tractor in a containment spell. "Sowil."

  For a fraction of a second, the spell encased it, but then the tractor burst through. I knew I'd cast that spell properly, so I assumed it had some magical protections against outside spells that I hadn't noticed during my quick probe. Was there anything here without magical properties?

  "Orzu." The ground behind us softened. A moment later, the tractor rolled onto the squishy dirt. The tractor slowed while it was going over the soft spot, but it didn't stop.

  "Tewaz," I tried. That should force it down into the ground, but like the other spells, it was a gamble.

  It hit the front of the tractor and burst into a thousand motes of energy, fizzing out in the air. I gave up, dismissed my wand, and focused on running. This place was my worst nightmare. Being a witch wasn't helping me much, and I didn't have any other abilities that were well suited to this environment.

  "What do we do?" Patrick asked.

  "Get away from it." I glanced over my shoulder. It was gaining on us. I couldn't die here, chased down by an old tractor that some crazy person had spelled. That wouldn't sound good in an obituary.

  "Not working."

  "Take one of those paths, whichever one is narrower."

  I felt a spell snap into place, and a whooshing sound joined the engine noise. There was no buildup of power; the spell was just there. That was something to think about later. Both of us looked back. I immediately regretted that decision. The crosspiece now had blades on both ends and was starting to spin. I didn't have to worry about being run over by a tractor… I could just be decapitated by it. That had to sound better in a eulogy, right?

  We were getting close to the two paths, but from my vantage point, they looked to be equally sized. I'd really hoped one of them would be too narrow for the tractor, and without that, I didn't know how to choose between the two.

  The rumbling of the engine kicked up, and the tractor started gaining on us more rapidly. I wasn't sure how fast it was going, but I was sprinting, or trying to since I was hauling around a backpack. My legs were starting to wobble, and my chest was burning. I had to find a way to get us some breathing room. While I couldn't speak for Patrick, I knew I couldn't keep up this pace for very long. The two paths looked promising, and I prayed it wouldn't be able to follow us into the rest of the maze.

  "Which one?" I panted.

  "The second."

  The tractor changed gears and rushed at us. The nose got close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from the engine and feel the air move as the blades spun ever closer. Patrick stumbled and rolled to the ground.

  "Patrick!" I tried to grab him, but he was out of reach and rolling into the entrance to the first path. I couldn't make the turn without stepping on him. I forced my legs to move faster and charged into the second hallway. I'd try to find him later.

  Looking over my shoulder, I saw the tractor skid to a stop past the opening to my path. I kept running, wanting to put more distance between the two of us. Thirty feet later, I slowed, thinking I'd lost the tractor.

  In the distance I could hear gears grinding. I watched in horror as it reversed, turned, and came thundering in my direction.

  There was no getting around it. I was one unlucky witch.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Elron

  Studying the greenery around me, I tried to determine if I had been down this path before. As usual, the rhododendrons were unwilling to help me. This entire experience had done nothing but made me feel increasingly inadequate. Some elf I was. I was unable to get the plants to communicate with me, never mind coax them into giving us a way out.

  The more time I spent in this construct, the more I was sure there were other factors at work, things keeping us here. However, I was unable to determine anything useful. If Michelle and I had been together, I was confident the two of us would be able to unlock the maze's secrets. That was a lovely thought, but I had to find her before we could work on breaking out of our surroundings.

  A distant rumble reached my ears, and I stopped moving and began listening, trying to determine what was creating the noise. It was difficult to make out, so I turned until I could hear it more clearly. It was an engine of some type, of that much I was sure.

  I started moving, trying to find the source of the sound. As with everything in this maze, that was far from simple. I started down a path only to pinpoint the origin of the sound off to the left. Backtracking, I eventually found a path that went in the correct direction. At first I kept track of where I was and where I was headed, but before long I was fully focused on finding the cause of that sound.

  While I worried that tracking down the origin of the noise was a mistake, I was more concerned that Michelle was in danger and I would not be able to reach her in time. In my experience, there were few helpful things in this maze. The odds of the engine creating that sound being kind to any of us were extremely low. My concern for what the engine would do was outweighed by my desire to find Michelle or any member of our group. This was my best chance to track them since the sound was likely something attempting to kill them. For that reason alone, I would follow it as long as I could.

  As I had moved through the maze, the sound had transformed from a distant rumble to a well-defined put-put. Though I was still unable to actually find the beast, or Michelle, I could not be far away. I again felt a small shock against my chest, much like the jolts that were so common during winter.

  "Run!" Michelle's voice sliced through the air.

  My heart clenched. I did not know how I was able to hear her, and I did not care. "Michelle! Michelle, where are you?"

  My hands trembled as I waited for her answer, but if she heard me she didn't respond. I tried not to contemplate if that was because she was too busy or too injured.

  "Patrick!" Michelle's voice tore through the air, turning my blood cold.

  I sprinted forward, pleading with the earth, begging it to let me reach her. Turning the corner, I slid to a halt, not believing what my eyes were showing me. The engine sound began to move away.

  Ahead of me a woman, who was most certainly not Michelle, was bent over a washtub, scrubbing a garment. Her white hair was down, reaching past her waist. She looked up at me with a face that was terrifyingly beautiful. Her white skin was deathly pale and tight over her sharp cheeks. Where her eyes should have been, there was only darkness. Her jaw stretched open, and a piercing shriek split the air.

  That woman was a banshee, and she had just foretold someone's death.

  My eyes were locked on the banshee as I slowly approached her. Logically, I knew better than to attempt conversation with a banshee, a woman who foretold death with a chilling scream, but logic was the last thing in my mind. I had to know who was going to die. According to the lore, once a death was foretold, nothing could change the course of fate, but if Michelle was going to die, I would do anything to save her.

  The banshee had turned back to her washtub. She wrung out a shirt before going to the stream and laying it among the rocks to rinse. When she moved out of the stream, the hem of her green dress was damp. I looked past her, and soap wasn't the only thing being washed out of the shirt. The water around it had turned faintly pink.

  The banshee didn't even look in my direction as she moved back to her washtub and started on another piece of clothing. Now that I knew what to look for, I could see that the tint in the water wasn't a trick of the light but the result of blood-soaked clothes.

  Taking a s
teadying breath, I moved closer, halting fifteen feet away. While I had heard of banshees, I had never encountered one before, and caution was never unwise.

  I cleared my throat. "Hello?"

  If she heard me, she did not acknowledge my presence.

  I spoke louder. "Madam, my name is Elron. I have a couple of questions for you."

  She continued to ignore me.

  Frowning, I contemplated my options. While I could continue to address her from this distance, I doubted she would respond. Moving closer was certainly a choice; however, should she become violent, it reduced the time I would have to react and defend myself. In the end, there was little to debate. I had to know if she had seen Michelle's death.

  I moved a few feet closer to her. "Excuse me, madam, can you hear me?"

  When she did not respond, I slowly moved a bit closer and tried again. "Madam, my name is Elron. What may I call you?"

  She looked up at me with nothingness where her eyes should have been. Then she turned back to her wash.

  Holding back a frustrated sigh, I tried again. After all, this was important. "As I have stated, my name is Elron. May I ask who is going to die?"

  Her voice was scratchy. "Who do you think, mighty warrior?"

  Swallowing, I suppressed the urge to say Michelle's name. So many things in this maze had been a trick. I did not trust this woman, and I was unsure of whether to trust the information she had. "I need to hear you say it."

  Her lips stretched in a semblance of a smile, showing jagged teeth. "Warrior, your love is moments from death."

  I growled. "Tell me the name."

  "Do you not know the name of your love?"

  "What trickery is at work? Why will you not tell me the name?"

  The banshee held up one hand and grinned. She tucked her thumb against her palm. One by one her fingers curled down until only the pinky remained up. She paused, and I could almost see an evil twinkle in those empty eyes. The pinky came down to rest against her other fingers.

  A boom shuttered through the air, vibrating my bones. I spun around, looking for a direction to go. If Michelle was involved, I had to get to her. I had to find her. In the distance I saw a cloud of smoke drift into the air.

  Whirling around, my lips moved to ask the banshee who had died. The words never made it out of my mouth. The banshee had lunged at me, hands twisted into claws, ready to tear at my skin.

  I stumbled back, but she still thudded into me. Her screams blocked out any other sound, and I grabbed at her hands, pulling one away from my back. I missed her left hand, and her nails drew blood as they raked down my cheek.

  Rearing back, I cracked my head against hers. She stumbled away, and that was all the distance I needed to summon my sword. I knew she would come in for another assault, and I had a split second to make a decision as to how much force I would use. When her nails lengthened, becoming more like talons, the choice was made. This was an enemy, and likely an ally of Ned's. There would be no mercy.

  She charged me. I turned my sword and sliced it through the air. It bit deep into her arm. I could see the bone buckle. Pulling it out of her arm, I turned the blade and used the flat to shove her away.

  The broken arm delayed her for a moment, but then she was coming at me again. The next time I swung, I aimed for her body. She blocked with the same damaged arm, and it shattered under the force of the blow, hanging limply.

  That didn't slow her down either. She got her good arm next to my body, dug her nails into the meat at the back of my neck, and started dragging me toward the washtub.

  I tried to swing the sword, but she wiggled her nails and found a nerve. I could feel my hand starting to open, so I quickly dismissed the sword. The banshee was strong for a woman. Try as I might to halt our progress, drag my feet, punch or kick, she kept edging me closer to that washtub.

  She kicked the back of my knee, making it buckle, and I started to go down. Taking advantage of my weakness, she pushed me against the washtub. Between one instant and the next, her hair went from white to black, her skin took on a pale but far more earthly cast, and her eyes returned, a crystal-clear blue. With a cruel smile, she shoved my head under the water.

  The soap and dirt stung my eyes. Closing them, I acknowledged that I had been a fool. This was no banshee but a nixe. Quite likely the same nixe who had killed Wells, and she was going to kill me too. The little air that had been in my lungs when I was submerged was rapidly running out.

  However, I had abilities Wells lacked. I had the water around my face drive away the soap and other impurities. In the newly clean water, I was able to open my eyes. As the pain faded, I could think more clearly. Fighting the tightening of my chest and the burning need to take a breath, I asked the water for help. One sizable air bubble formed around my mouth. That would buy me some time. I quickly exhaled through my nose before sucking in the air.

  I needed a way to kill her or get out of her hands long enough to summon my sword. However, there was another option. It had been many years since I had tried this trick, but if there was a time to attempt a risky plan, this was it. Though, I did need to change position if this was going to be successful.

  Thrashing around as if I were struggling against drowning, I managed to wiggle my right arm around until my hand was resting near my left shoulder. Closing my eyes and willing my sword into a very exact position, I twisted my hand. The hilt settled into my grip. While that told me the sword had appeared, I was unsure if it was thrusting into the nixe as I'd intended. If I had missed, this fight was not going to improve.

  For a moment nothing happened. Then her grip on me loosened before releasing entirely. Something was trying to drag the sword back, out of my grip. I dismissed it and quickly emerged from the water, taking deep, ragged breaths of air. Resummoning the sword, I pivoted to look at her, ready to attack if she became aggressive.

  The nixe was lying on the ground, blood gurgling out of the wound in her chest, broken arm limp at her side, her eyes wide and filled with pain as she took a shallow breath. From the way she was struggling to breathe and the position of the wound, my sword had punctured a lung. Modern medicine could likely save her life, but we were far from a hospital, and I had little interest in helping a murderer.

  "Answer me, nixe. Did you kill Wells?"

  "It was just a job. Ned hired me." She took a ragged breath. "That officer was somewhere he shouldn't have been. Just like you, but I can help you." She struggled through another breath. "I can help you get out of here."

  A cold fury settled into my body. I smiled, and I hoped it was as friendly as the smiles she had given me earlier. "It's fortunate that you encountered me rather than one of the others."

  She looked like she wanted to ask why but was too scared to speak.

  "You see, the others would have put you in handcuffs, dragged you all over this mountain, and then taken you back to the police station where you would be turned over to your people for justice."

  Her eyes went wide. "No, please—"

  "Shhhh. I know. Nixe who kill people are put to death. I believe they stake you out in the sun, let you dry, and then slice open your wrists and ankles until the blood slowly drains from your body?"

  She nodded.

  "Well, I won't do that to you. You killed Wells. You tried to kill me. You work for Ned." I stepped to the side and raised my sword, then sent it whooshing through the air. It was a good blade, and it only took one blow to separate her head from her body.

  I used the skirt of her dress to clean my sword.

  Shouldering my pack, I resumed my search for Michelle, never looking back at the nixe. As much as Michelle loved me, as much of my dark side as she knew, she still failed to understand one point. I was an old elf, brought up in a world far different from the one that existed today. I believed in justice, and sometimes modern ways missed the point. The nixe had violated the laws of her people and the land. There was a price for that, and whether she paid it now or later made no difference to me.
r />   Chapter Nineteen

  Michelle

  The tractor barreling toward me showed no sign of slowing down. In fact, I was pretty sure it was accelerating. Without a second thought, I turned and sprinted down the corridor. I needed to buy some time to think of a good plan for getting rid of the tractor, which meant I needed to buy myself some time.

  Running willy-nilly through a place I knew had traps wasn't my brightest idea, but I didn't have a lot of options. Panting, I took two turns in rapid succession, hoping that if the tractor lost sight of me it wouldn't be able to follow. For a moment I thought my trick had worked, but based on the sounds behind me, the tractor was still on my trail. Sucking in a deep breath, I put on a burst of speed. While I did enjoy a good run, fleeing for my life wasn't the same thing, and there was that added delight of having a backpack. With the extra weight and change in my center of gravity, my top speed was greatly reduced.

  There could be something to the idea that the maze was bringing my fears to life. Having the group splintered? Check. Being separated from Elron? Check. Getting stuck in the woods and finding my magic useless? Well, that had happened. I'd even been separated from Patrick. Now I was running away from some bizarre magical construct, which I was pretty sure had happened in one of my nightmares last week. Part of me was starting to think this place was reacting to my thoughts. The rest of me was less sure because that would require a lot of complex spells and even some input from our captor, or whoever was managing this maze.

  While Ned, or someone he worked with, had managed some impressive spell-work, that didn't mean they were capable of creating a reactive spell. To do what had been done to me and the rest of the group required preplanning and several hours of casting the actual spell. Either way, it didn't seem like something they would've been able to accomplish between rendering the group unconscious by the stream and relocating us to the maze. That much time hadn't passed while we were unaware.