by Sam Short
I strained at the magic that held me, but could do nothing. A sickening pressure built within me, and I knew that if Maeve didn’t possess the power to save Granny from the flames, then nobody did.
“Show yourself,” said Granny. “If you are the Witch-finder.”
Hilda laughed, the sound perverse and haunting, tinged with an evil which made Granny’s eyes darken. Hilda’s whole body shook violently, as if she were a marionette at the end of strings controlled by a psychopath. The air around her moved and whispered, vibrating in time with the pulses of energy which shook her. She lifted her face towards the ceiling, the old flesh on her chin shifting on the bone, as if being twisted into a new shape by an invisible hand. Gold and red sparks danced around her, and her voice deepened as she laughed louder, the very clothes on her thin frame changing as her shoulders widened and she grew in height. The skin on her hands crawled, and her long feminine fingernails shortened, like a cat drawing in its claws, until they were short and at the tips of thick masculine fingers.
“No,” said Maeve.
“How?” said Granny.
In place of Hilda, a man stood before us, over six feet in height, a tall black hat on his head and a high necked white shirt beneath his dark clothing. He gazed around the room, his eyes, one green and one brown, studying us in turn. He lifted his hat in a macabre greeting, revealing long dark hair, and he split his mouth in a manic grin. “I am the Witch-finder General!” he shouted. “And tonight, I will burn one more witch!” He took a deep breath and looked around the room he’d built, pride evident in his expression. “First, though. Let me tell you all a story —”
“I don’t want to listen to your stories,” said Granny. “If you’re going to kill me, get it over with. I don’t want to hear one more word from your hateful mouth.”
The Witch-finder bent at the waist, and put his face close to Granny’s. “I would advise you do listen, Gladys Weaver. It will make you understand why you should concentrate on burning well when I wrap you in flames, it will help you understand that if you struggle or fight my magic, that I will kill the remainder of your family, one by one, until I get the result I desire.” He cast his eyes over the rest of his captives. “If anything, listening to me will buy your family some more time in your presence before they lose you for ever. It looks as if they love you very much, which will aid me immensely when you burn — you see, love is a vital ingredient which was missing from the last six burnings. Look, Gladys, look at the love they have for you — they all have tears in their eyes. Even that annoying goat is weeping.”
Granny closed her eyes, not in defiance, but to hide the tears I’d seen glimmering in the bright light. She opened them again and started directly at the man she’d known as Hilda for so many years. “Tell your story if you must, Witch-finder,” she spat.
Chapter Eighteen
Like a motivational speaker on a stage, the Witch-finder clasped his hands behind his back and began pacing, the heels of his black leather boots clicking on the lead floor. “Where should I begin?” he pondered.
With a sigh, he lowered himself into a seating position on the stone plinth, using the logs piled high behind him as a backrest. “I know!” he said, raising a single finger. “I’ll start at the beginning — as the old saying goes. I’d offer you all a seat, but I enjoy watching you standing, trapped by my magic. It makes me realise how powerful I’ve become.”
“Nobody’s as powerful as they think they are,” said Maeve.
The Witch-finder smiled, a glint in his eyes. “So very true,” he said, “and how very pertinent to the story I have to tell. You see, Maeve, you didn’t conjure The Haven into existence because you were more powerful than any other witch. It was purely a matter of luck that I chose to build the fire I burned you on in the place I did.”
“In the middle of my village,” said Maeve. “With the people I loved being forced to watch me suffer.”
“Indeed,” said the Witch-finder. “In fact, this house is built in the exact spot your pyre was built on. In a different dimension of course, but on the exact spot. The spire is built directly where the centre of the fire would have been.”
Maeve’s demeanour had become calmer and relaxed, but I could tell by the fierce spark in her eyes that she was struggling against the powerful magic which swirled through the room. I hoped with every fibre of my being that she would find the strength within her to save Granny from the awful fate she’d been threatened with.
The Witch-finder gazed upwards, as if drawing on memories, his face serene — the complete antithesis of the panic which gripped me, clawing at my gut and quickening my heartbeat, forcing my breath from me in frightened gasps.
Granny looked at me, the message in her eyes one of calm, but with a hint of hope. I took comfort from her, concentrating on trying to access my magic — if Granny could muster hope in such a situation, then so should I.
The Witch-finder gave a low laugh and continued with his story, his words wrapped in a pride that forced me to focus on my hatred for him, willing myself to find my magic. “I found you easily, Maeve,” he said. “When you turned that man into a toad for a day, as punishment for stealing eggs from you, some of the villagers couldn’t wait to report you for being a witch. When the news got to me I came quickly, I hadn’t burned a witch for almost a full month, and I was itching to smell roasting flesh again.”
“Evil,” said Granny. “That’s what you are.”
“On the contrary,” said the Witch-finder. “I was on the side of good. God gave me a gift — the gift of seeing. My visions began when I was six-years-old, and my mother said it was my special eyes which made my skill possible. I’d already seen Maeve in a vision, but the tell-tale villagers made the job of finding her easier, and saved me a little time.”
The orb above the pyre crackled and dimmed briefly, and the Witch-finder looked at Granny. “I am running out of time, as are you, Gladys. The jewel requires more magic.” He stood up and began pacing again. “I will tell my story quickly, so as I can get on with the important business of burning you.”
Granny laughed, a bitter outburst of defiance. “Do what you must,” she said.
“As Maeve burned,” said the Witch-finder, “surrounded by people who loved her, and the people who had betrayed her, I heard a strange noise… a throbbing hum the like of which I’d never heard before, and the ground vibrated beneath my feet. As the flames grew hotter and Maeve screamed louder, the sound grew in volume too, until Maeve vanished in a flash of light.” He closed a fist. “One moment she was there and the next… she was gone. The villagers thought it had been God’s doing of course, but I knew different. I’d seen a flash of light at the base of the fire, and heard the humming sound grow louder. I knew it was magic, but I also knew it hadn’t all been of Maeve’s doing — she’d been in too much pain to cast a spell that powerful. Of that, I was certain.”
“I watched you smiling as I burned,” said Maeve. “The anger I felt for you fuelled my magic.”
“Oh, your magic had a part in in it all,” said the Witch-finder. “But you had help. When the fire had cooled, I searched the ashes. I searched them for a day and a night, finally digging beneath the hardened ground, looking for the cause of the sound I’d heard.” The Witch-finder looked upwards. “And what I found sits on top of my spire, where it has done for six hundred years, waiting for this day.”
“The jewel,” said Granny.
The Witch-finder nodded. “Indeed, the jewel. Luckily for me, I had another witch captive in the horse-drawn cage I travelled with — what I now know was an oriental witch, a beautiful prize I wished to give to the king. She was too important to burn — a witch from a foreign land had never been seen before. The king would have rewarded me handsomely.”
“Did you make her suffer too?” spat Granny. “You vile creature.”
“I would have, of course,” said the Witch-finder. “But it wasn’t to be. I required her help, and I promised to slaughter every man, woma
n, and child in the village if she refused to comply. The cage bars were made of lead — I knew, even all those years ago, that lead was a deterrent to magic, so I took a risk by releasing her, but she valued the lives of innocents above her own. She gave me the help I needed.”
“How does your magic work in this lead lined room?” said Maeve. “I do not understand.”
“My jewel is more powerful than any magic you have ever known,” said the Witch-finder. “The orb above the pyre is connected to it, and only I am able to access it. The magic flowing from my jewel cannot be hindered by lead, for it is the very jewel that created The Haven, and I am joined with it as one. The lead prevents you weaker witches from accessing magic, and try as hard as you might, that fact will not change – you are powerless in this room, and you will be powerless against me outside this room when my jewel has been fully powered by magic.”
“I don’t —”
The Witch-finder interrupted Maeve with a wave of his hand. “No more time wasting. I must hurry.” He sat down again and continued. “The oriental witch told me what the jewel was — a simple diamond which had reacted to Maeve’s magic, amplifying its power and causing an opening to another dimension. This dimension. The dimension you call your own, Maeve. As you know, though — as is inscribed on the stone near the castle — the person with the one true power will rule The Haven.”
“It mentions a jewel too…” said Maeve, her voice faltering, realisation spreading across her features.
The Witch-finder laughed. “Now you see — my power and my jewel!” He glanced to the side. “Now, where was I? Oh, yes! The oriental witch used magic to work out what had happened. She knew a dimension had been opened, and she knew that if I passed into that dimension carrying the jewel which had formed it, I would possess the very heart of the dimension, and when you possess the heart, you control the rest of the body. I would become magical, and rule this land.”
“So why don’t you rule The Haven?” said Granny. “You’ve been here for a long time. A very long time.”
“She betrayed me,” said the Witch-finder, dark anger lining his face. “As I passed into The Haven, through a portal she’d opened, she cast a spell and chipped a piece of diamond from the stone I carried. She kept that piece of diamond, and though it was only small, it dramatically reduced the power of the stone. The stone has provided me with magic in this land, but has never been powerful enough to afford me total control over The Haven…” The Witch-finder’s tongue stroked his top lip, and he smiled. “…Until today.”
He reached into his pocket and withdrew a jewel. He held it between finger and thumb, and inspected it, rolling it from left to right, the light from the orb reflecting off it, the sharp corners sparkling.
He placed it on the stone plinth next to him and straightened his collar. “When I arrived here, in The Haven, only a few days after Maeve, I already had magic, but I knew I wasn’t as powerful as I could have been. I needed a disguise — without strong magic I knew I’d be no match for Maeve, and it was highly doubtful that Maeve would have afforded the man who burnt her any mercy, so I used the power of the stone to shift my shape into the opposite of what I’d been. Instead of the handsome young man you see sitting before you today, I took on the shape of a grizzled old woman. The only problem was my eyes. I could only control their colour temporarily, for minutes at a time, so I came up with the idea of an eyepatch. It fitted my new persona perfectly, and as I still had my gift of visions, I became Hilda, the seer. It was perfect, and worked a treat, and what fun I had lifting my eyepatch occasionally, taunting Maeve when I was in her presence, but knowing the colour of my eyes could shift at any moment. The risk gave me such a wonderful feeling of excitement!”
“All the time we spent together,” said Maeve. “To think that you fooled me for centuries makes me sick.”
“Oh,” said The Witch-finder. “Don’t be too hard on yourself. I did begin to enjoy myself here, and I valued people’s friendship too. When I first arrived in The Haven, I built this house, placing my jewel at the highest point, spreading its power, trying to take control of the land. As other witches fled the justice of the mortal world and found their way to The Haven, more people built homes near mine until there was a village.
I became popular in the village, using my gift of seeing to help people. After a century, I almost forgot who I really was, and when this village was hidden by a landslide, I moved to the east and began a new life, befriending people like yourselves and spending my time enjoying my boat and growing herbs, spices, and the best liquorice in The Haven. I enjoyed my life, and nearly forgot about my desire to control The Haven, until I had a powerful vision, almost fifty years ago, and now that vision is about to come true.” He stood up, and took Granny’s hand in his. “It’s almost time for you to burn, Gladys.”
“So, it was you all along,” said Granny. “You were the dark haired man the dwarfs spoke of, and you were the man on Penny’s boat.”
“Of course,” said the Witch-finder. “And my visit to the boat was very important for helping today’s events go smoothly, Gladys.”
“Why?” said Granny. “You didn’t take anything.”
“Oh, I did,” said the Witch-finder. “You see, when we all sat together in Eva’s garden, eating her mediocre food, I’d already burned four of the six witches — one a night, but I simply couldn’t get enough magic into my jewel to make my plan work. Those witches just weren’t powerful enough. When I saw you, surrounded by your family, I realised something of great importance. I realised that when I’d burnt Maeve, she’d been watched by people who loved her.
Love is a very potent magic, as you know, and I understood that as you were the eldest and frailest of your family, the love for you would be immense. As your family watch you burn, their love for you will enhance your magic and help power my jewel. As for what I took from your granddaughter’s boat — well, to make sure your magic is deflected off the lead walls and collected in the orb above the pyre, there needs to be some of your essence inside it. I made a potion from the hair of each of the other six witches, and I thought it prudent to do the same for you.”
“My hairbrush,” said Granny. “I knew I’d packed it.”
The Witch-finder nodded. “Indeed, and the potion helped draw you here, guiding you to clues and leading you too your demise.”
The Witch-finder looked to his left, an eyebrow raised. “Derek is gesticulating wildly with his eyes, perhaps he wishes to speak.” He flicked a hand, releasing sparks. “Speak, Derek, but make it quick. When my jewel brings down the spell surrounding the castle of the one true ruler, and I take residence, then you’ll have plenty of time for an audience with me, but for now, make your words count.”
“Burn me!” said Derek. “I’m powerful. Don’t burn Gladys. Not in front of her family. It’s barbaric!”
I tried to twist my eyes in their sockets, but couldn’t swivel them far enough to see him. Derek was willing to sacrifice himself to save my grandmother, and I couldn’t even look at his face.
“Oh, Derek,” said Granny. “I misjudged you. I’m sorry.”
“It’s a brave gesture,” said the Witch-finder. “But there’s not enough love in the room for you, Derek. Your magic just won’t work.”
“I’m sorry, Gladys,” said Derek, “for anything I ever did to upset you.”
“You just be good to my sister when you all get out of here,” said Granny. She looked at the Witch-finder. “They will all get out of here, won’t they?”
Granny’s eyes darkened as the Witch-finder cupped her frail chin in his hand. “I give you my word that if you go to your death willingly, and the magic works, then I will harm no one. I won’t need to, I will control this world. If you struggle, though, and my magic fails. I will burn your family one by one until the magic does work.”
Granny nodded. Her fate accepted.
“Wait!” said Derek. “Why did you take the jewel from my staff?”
The Witch-finder sco
wled. “I know you’re wasting time, trying to preserve the life of Gladys for as long as possible, but I will answer your question. The vision I spoke of having fifty years ago was unclear. It showed me that I needed to burn witches, and it showed me that I needed to come back to my buried home and build this room of lead beneath it. The vision showed me the spell protecting the castle being broken, but it did not show me everything. Do you remember my vision at Eva’s home, Derek?”
“I do,” said Derek. “You spoke of a great power, and you spoke of a man with hair as black as coal.”
Hilda had also spoken about a blossoming romance, and I shed a tear as I thought of Granny’s love for Charleston. She would go to her death having never told the man she loved how she felt.
“That was foolish of me,” said the Witch-finder. “I didn’t mean to speak so candidly. I was excited you see, and when I become excited I speak my visions freely. I saw a vision of myself in this room, and I saw great power, I couldn’t help myself, the words escaped my mouth. They did no harm though. My plan is working as expected. Nobody suspected me.”
“What were you excited about?” said Derek. “What made you speak so freely?”
The Witch-finder picked up the small jewel from the stone plinth. “I was excited about the jewel in your staff, Derek. I had another vision as we sat at that table, one I kept to myself. I saw that the owner of the piece of diamond the oriental woman stole from me, was in that garden. Nobody else had a jewel like yours, Derek. The jewel that was set in the top of your staff had to be the missing piece, and when I place it beneath the fire Gladys will die in, I will have recreated Maeve’s burning perfectly — the love for her, the pain, and the jewel beneath the blaze.”
“But that jewel —”
The Witch-finder silenced Derek with a wave of his hand. “You too, Maeve,” he said, taking her voice too. “The only sounds I wish to hear are the anguished screams of Gladys Weaver as she melts.”
