The Missing Link

by David Tysdale

  "How's both of ye manage that at the same time, eh?" Brunstice wiped her hands on her smock and hurried over.

  "Thunderous boom startles us when we be on the mill bridge, and we both flopped into the stream," Mariat said.

  Brunstice peered first into Mariat's eyes, and then into Carole's. "I think ye two's suffering a mild brain pan rattling." The witch clucked. "Whilst on the mill bridge, eh?"

  "That be so," Mariat said between clenched teeth.

  "Anything else be aching, witchling?" Brunstice leveled a stare at Mariat.

  "Maybe a little in my belly."

  The herbalist poked a finger under Mariat's ribs. Mariat yelped pitiably and collapsed to the floor in a dead faint.

  --3--

  "Ambrosia, raise the alarm! Get Lucreta and Herling. Fast as lightning!"

  Carole saw a flash of fur dive through a window.

  "Carole Sylphwood, be ye well enough to help?"

  Carole gulped and nodded.

  "I points and ye gets. First my potion's bag."

  Carole retrieved a large satchel hanging off a chair. Brunstice dumped its contents onto the plank floor and selected a few packets.

  "Now water. Warm be best, but cold'll have to do."

  Carole went for a pitcher on the counter.

  "Bring them two bowls as well, and a spoon."

  Brunstice mixed up a paste as soon as Carole delivered the items. She spooned the paste onto a muslin cloth and folded it into a poultice. "Help straighten out her legs."

  Carole eased Mariat onto her back and gingerly pulled her legs straight. Brunstice hiked Mariat's dress up to her chest, revealing an angry purple welt on her right side, just below her ribcage.

  Carole caught her breath at the size of the swelling. "That wasn't there a little while ago," she said.

  Brunstice placed the poultice directly onto the bruise. At that moment, the door burst open and in ran a young witch with long flowing auburn hair.

  "Quick Lucreta, we got a belly that bleeds from within."

  Without stopping to catch her breath, the young witch darted about the cottage, collecting roots, flowers and sprigs. She immediately set to grinding, pounding and mixing. Soon she held out a small crucible filled with a dark elixir. She knelt and poured the liquid into Mariat's mouth. Mariat groaned, gagged and swallowed. Lucreta repeated the process over and over again, until the crucible was empty.

  When Head Witch Herling entered the cottage, followed by half-a-dozen other witches, Carole backed into a corner to give them room. The new arrivals formed a close circle around Mariat, placed their hands lightly upon the girl's limp body and immediately began a throaty chant.

  Closing her eyes against her own pain-ravaged skull, Carole tried to focus on the witches' verse, but the words were beyond her. All she could tell was that their voices were gaining in volume and speed. Then she heard a new sound.

  She opened her eyes briefly to see that a number of cats had joined the circle. With their front paws placed on Mariat's body, they were howling with the chant. Suddenly her skin crawled as if the air were charged with electricity.

  Moments later, her ears popped. The witches had cast their spell.

  "Good," Brunstice said, in the now strangely quiet room. "The bleeding be stopping up nice. She be fine, I think. Bring me a flask of dragon's fire. I be too old fer this sort of nonsense."

  Carole sagged with relief, not realizing just how tense she'd been. She listened to the growing chatter coming from so many witches squeezed into the tiny cottage. There was a lot less anxiety in the voices. In fact their tone was becoming almost lively. Any excuse for a party, she thought, giddily.

  Soft, cool fingers ran across her forehead. She opened her eyes and found herself facing the auburn-haired witch. Concern wrinkled the witch's brow.

  "Be there pain elsewhere?"

  "Just my head," Carole said.

  "Yer belly be okay?" Gentle fingers probed below her ribs.

  "Yes."

  "Good. Drink." The witch held a cup to her lips.

  A syrupy liquid poured into her mouth. She swallowed and the hammering behind her eyes immediately lessened. "Mariat?"

  "Mariat be fine. Needs rest is all. Same be fer ye, Carole Sylphwood. Close yer eyes and rest."

  Carole felt those same cool fingers pressing against her shoulders. Yielding to their pressure, she slid down to a surprisingly soft floor.

  --4--

  Carole sat up with a start and tried to open her eyes. Her eyelids wouldn't obey. She discovered that her head was wrapped in a cloth and tugged the material off. She found herself on a cot, in a dark corner of a strange smelling room. Dried plants hung from the rafters, and colored glass bottles lined a nearby counter.

  Something stirred beside her. Mariat's cat, Cleopatra.

  Cleopatra was curled against Mariat, who was sprawled on a cot, asleep. She looked ghastly, with two huge black eyes, while the rest of her face was almost totally devoid of color. Were it not for the regular rise and fall of her chest, Carole could have believed her to be dead.

  She probed her own face. The skin around her eyes felt puffy and tender.

  "Ye look little better than Mariat." The young auburn-haired witch was sitting on a stool on the other side of Carole. She rose and came closer.

  Lucreta, Carole remembered. Was this the same Lucreta whose room she had recently prowled? "I'm sorry?"

  "Yer eyes. They be black and bruised, same as Mariat."

  Carole glanced at her sleeping friend. "That bad?"

  "Yep. But if ye wish, I can apply a soothing salve to help 'em heal, and hide most of the bruising."

  "Is Mariat all right?"

  "She leaked a fair chunk of belly blood, but she'll be fine in a few days' time. What that witchling needs now be healing sleep." Lucreta retrieved a jar from the counter and patted a stool. "Be ye strong enough to sit here?"

  "Sure." Carole struggled to keep her knees from buckling as she stood.

  Lucreta smiled. "No wonder ye two be friends. Ye be jest as stubborn as Mariat." She held the stool steady. "She be one troublesome witchling, that Mariat. Always trying to learn witchish ways faster than a body has needs fer, and always getting into bigger trouble than the rest of the coven put together. And that scamp be forever sneaking into my room, too."

  "You know?"

  Lucreta winked. "Between ye and me, Carole Sylphwood, I oft leave a spell or two out, jest fer Mariat to find. Spells not likely to get her into heated water, but tough enough to keep her busy fer a good long time. Of course that doesn't always work, eh? 'Specially if her friends give her wicked spells to play with."

  Carole's eyes widened.

  "Strange thing that happened to ye two. Curious to have lightning so close that it whacks two imps clear off the mill bridge and yet no others see it. Unusual also fer it to occur in the middle of a bright, sunny day."

  "I uh....don't really know how the weather works around here."

  "Normally not like that. I wonder if any others heard the prettyish chime that came along before the thunderish boom. Interesting that, thunder ringing out a warning before its arrival."

  Carole coughed uncomfortably.

  "Not to worry, Carole Sylphwood." Lucreta grinned. "I be the only one close enough to hear the chime, but I'll not tell. I think that perhaps Mariat learned a mighty big lesson this time."

  Lucreta applied the salve expertly to Carole's bruises. As she did so, Carole got a good look at her. She was extremely beautiful. "Lucreta, how come you're still living at the dorm with the witchlings? When Brunstice called for help, she sent for you first, even ahead of Herling."

  "I be born with herbal knowledge already planted in my noggin, so I be apprenticed to Brunstice right from the start of my witchling training, and be treated as a full-fledged witch in that respects for many years now. So in some ways I be like a witchling, in others a witch."

  "Must be tough."

  "It be tiresome to be treated oldish one moment
and youngish the next, though once the head crones agree, I get to become a full witch on all accounts. Hopefully after this season of snows."

  "Then what?"

  "Brunstice wants me to take over all of her duties, but some say life now be better in the villages. Certainly less drudgery fer any witch who lives in a town, though it be lonelier without sister witches to chat with. 'Tis no hurry to decide, though."

  Lucreta studied Carole's face. "Not too bad, Carole Sylphwood. Ye look like ye have largish bags under yer eyes instead of nasty bruises. How does it feel?"

  "Soothing. Smells good, too."

  "I like my salves to smell nice. It be good fer relaxing the nerves too, and relaxation be an important part of healing. Sorry about the whites of yer eyes. They be vampire red fer a few days yet, I'm afraid."

  "Vampire red?"

  Lucreta handed over a small mirror.

  Carole gasped. Staring back at her was a blood-eyed ghoul. "What happened?"

  "Probably yer spell. The same thing happened to Mariat, though I not be sure if her belly bleed also be from the spell, or the way she hit the water."

  Carole looked at Mariat's bruised face. "I don't imagine she'll be very pleased, either."

  "'Bout time she gets to taste of her own spell medicine. Though I'd never want her to get hurt like this," she added hastily.

  Lucreta went to the cot and ran her fingers over the witchling's brow before lifting back the sheet to examine the poultice. Holding her hands above Mariat's belly, she closed her eyes. Moments later she replaced the cover and scratched Cleopatra behind the ears.

  "This be a bad one, even for Mariat." Lucreta's voice held deep concern. "We got to her jest in time, I think."

  "She gets into a lot of trouble?"

  "Does a wolf howl into the night? That witchling be the suspected cause of most trouble arount this here coven, though she rarely be caught at it. Got her sneak ways down good. Drives the rest of us to distraction."

  "Does Mariat have a special gift like you, Lucreta?"

  Lucreta snorted. "Aside from mischief making?"

  "Yes."

  "If truth be told, Carole Sylphwood, Mariat be carrying a huge burden on her shoulders. Head Witch Herling thinks she be gifted in most, if not all things witch-like."

  Just then Carole's stomach grumbled loudly. "Sorry. Guess I missed lunch."

  "Lunch, dinner and breakfast, also. Ye done slept away the entire day's past." Lucreta lifted a cloth covering three plates of food. "Lucky thing the Harvest Feast be this evening. There be plenty of food fer all the guests that be coming."

  Carole reached for one of the plates. "What were you saying about Mariat?"

  "The problem be that she doesn't have enough years on her bones to use her witch gifts properly. So it be very easy fer her to get into water that be way over her head. But if truth be told, I think she be destined to become head witch someday, if she doesn't blow herself up, first."

  "She never told me."

  "She doesn't know. It be a secret from all the witchlings."

  "Do the other witchlings like Mariat?"

  "They be extremely jealous of her."

  "You don't seem to be," Carole said, while thinking that this was a very different Lucreta from the one Mariat had described.

  "No, though I still be plenty sore at her fer hexing me a time ago, even if it be a darned good spell."

  "Is it normal for witchlings to be jealous of each other?"

  "A few sour grapes be always about, but it be unusual to have the whole bunch go sour. Some of the crones think the Conundrum curdled the other witchlings' moods."

  "Maybe they were already a little sour and the Conundrum made them worse. That's kind of what happened in the Faerie realm."

  "An interesting thought, Carole. Still, such knowledge be of no help to Mariat, now."

  "Can't you help?"

  Lucreta smiled sadly. "Some time ago, the witchlings played a nasty trick on her and she thinks that I also be in on the ruse. She doesn't trust me."

  "What'd they do?"

  "Got her to believe that Head Witch Herling be doing some powerful midnight spell making. They knew Mariat couldn't resist going to see. When Mariat be out looking fer the magic, them witchlings stole her broom and then spelled themselves to look like a group of vampires coming to have her fer supper. Poor Mariat thought that she be dead meat fer sure."

  "That's terrible!"

  "Oh, Mariat not be one to go down without a mighty big fight." Lucreta spoke as if she was greatly proud of Mariat. "She threw rocks at the vampires, while charging up a most wicked spell. Don't know how she did that one neither. Even the crones can't cast such a spell. Maybe Mariat be so desperate about dying that she pulled up some powerful sleeping magic. Anyhow, them witchlings got a lot more than they bargained fer.

  "That rascal made a lightning snake with five heads, each of which coiled arount an attacking vampire. Those witchlings be screaming in such misery that they roused the entire coven to alarm."

  "Were they punished?"

  "Aplenty. Herling be so angry she be spitting nails. Only thing to save them from Head Witch's worst fury be that Mariat already did a good job on 'em. They stayed in bed fer a week, and couldn't sit on their backsides fer near a month."

  "Did Mariat get in trouble?"

  "Only fer worrying the coven about her whereabouts during the rest of that night. I think she went off somewhere fer a good cry."

  "I don't suppose the others felt bad for what they did?"

  "Maybe a little at first, but not after Mariat got even."

  "With all of 'em?" Carole was a little alarmed at her friend's tenacity.

  "With me too, even though I be innocent."

  "The celebration with the village boys?"

  "I'll never live that one down, I think."

  "The witchlings didn't retaliate?"

  "Still do. Not with spells or such, but with deeds. Now they totally shun Mariat. Sometimes I hear Mariat crying, when she be thinking she be by herself. I try to help, but she still won't trust me."

  Carole thought about all those years on the farm when she was tormented mercilessly by Janet Murtz and her gang. She suddenly felt a lot more sympathy for Mariat.

  A low groan sounded from the cot. "Who be talking so loud? Let a body sleep in peace."

  "That's gratitude for you." Carole eased herself to the floor. "The two of us worried sick about you, and all you do is complain."

  "Hah, Sylphwood, ye best worry about yerself. Ye scare a vampire, looking that way."

  "If it's a scare you want, maybe I should hand you the mirror."

  "Both of ye be quiet. I be doing serious work here." Lucreta eased the covers off and reached around Cleopatra to remove the bandage from Mariat's abdomen. The bruising was much smaller. "Good. Hurts ye at all in belly?"

  "No!"

  Lucreta pressed around the bruise, making Mariat wince. "Plenty tender in there yet, witchling. Ye take it very easy fer the next number of days. No running, climbing or choring. No broom riding, neither. "

  "What? Ye want me jest to lie here and stare at bugs crawling along the ceiling?"

  "That be a good idea. Stare at the bugs, rest and sleep."

  "I be no mewling babe!" Mariat propped herself up on her elbows. Her face blanched to ashen gray.

  "Aiiie! Ye want to start bleeding again?" Lucreta placed one arm firmly behind Mariat's back, the other across her chest and pushed her down. "Ye stay put."

  This time Mariat obeyed.

  Lucreta propped her head a little higher. "I swear witchling," Lucreta muttered as she walked to the counter and began assembling the ingredients for another poultice, "ye beat all."

  Mariat glared at her back. "What be her problem?"

  "You were really bad," Carole said quietly. "Lucreta and Brunstice saved your life. Lucreta's been up all night looking after the both of us."

  "Probably so she can gloat," Mariat said.

  "Lucreta's not your enemy
, Mariat. She knows we caused the thunder, and she's not telling. She'd be a great friend if you'd let her."

  Mariat dropped her gaze to the bed and began stroking Cleopatra's back. "I guess I know it," she finally said. "It jest be..."

  "Just thank her. She'll understand. Besides, you two really have a lot in common."

  Mariat stuck her lower lip out, but nodded.

  "Anyway, maybe I'll clear out for a time and let the two of you talk. Lucreta might even be willing to do something about your eyes, if you ask her nicely enough. I'd best find Philamount and see what's up."

  Carole waited until Lucreta returned to the cot, before excusing herself. "I'll be back in a while. See you later Lucreta, and thanks."

  "Ye take it easy too, Carole Sylphwood. Ye might not be so banged up as this sorry looking wretch, but ye still bin dragged around some."

  "Don't worry, I won't be diving off any bridges today."

  --5--

  It was a beautiful sun soaked morning, though with a bite that warned of colder days to come. Carole had no idea where Melodious T. Philamount might be, but as the coven wasn't more than just a cluster of buildings, she figured he wouldn't be all that difficult to find. She started up the lane.

  Her stomach pulled a little with each step, but at least she'd been spared Mariat's more severe injuries. Carole wondered if that had just been dumb luck? After all, she'd belly-flopped into the stream alongside Mariat. The only real difference was her dress.

  She examined a sleeve. It looked as new as the day she'd first slipped it on. The fabric was now a brilliant blue, with such depth to it that she appeared to be wrapped in sparkling water. She straightened her arm and watched the sleeve ripple in the sunlight. The dress had shielded her from the heat that time she'd vaulted over the lava, so maybe it had buffered the worst effects of the faerie spell. That notion made sense, especially when she considered that her face was as beat up as Mariat's.

  There was a small barn along the lane. As Carole drew closer she noticed four witchlings with their backs to her, standing at the far corner. She heard Mariat's name mentioned, followed by a burst of harsh laughter. It sounded so much like Janet Murtz that she shuddered. Instinctively, she stepped behind a tree and slipped on her hood. Her dress immediately faded to match the color of the bark.