Dark Winter

by John Hennessy

  Toril, now ten years of age could not hide her dismay.

  “It’s not a joke, Daddy! Why would you want to make fun of me?”

  Without waiting for an answer, she ran up to her room, and continued working on her project.

  “One day, they will know, and they won’t make fun of me,” Toril would say to herself.

  She could hear her parents sounding confused downstairs, the murmurings went from ‘But I thought she loved Halloween!” to “Just let her stay in her room then.”

  Such are the joys of parenthood. Toril couldn’t imagine having children though in her future, believing they would get in the way of her project.

  She tried to talk to some of the other kids at junior school, but whilst some were interested, they soon got cold on the idea, and Toril found herself without anyone to talk to.

  Perhaps she was getting in too deep. She was grabbing books on all kinds of subjects. Witchcraft. Paganism. Rituals and Sacrifice. The Occult. Perhaps most disturbing of all – Satanism.

  But she needed to know everything, she could not do this by halves. Also she could not join a group whereby she could get in serious trouble, not so much with them, but with her parents. She would be grounded for eternity if they ever knew the depth to which she found herself.

  “If there isn’t a Banish Parents Spell, I’ll bloody well create one,” Toril mused.

  It had started pretty innocently, with the stories of witches told in fables or short stories that Toril would lend from the library.

  Pretty soon, Toril had read everything she could, and the library soon outgrew its usefulness. She would lend three books on witchcraft and one of the Sherlock Holmes stories, just to keep her parents off the track. Not that she truly believed that they would fall for that though.

  Even so, they didn’t bother her about it, and one summer’s day, her mother opened the door and gasped in horror.

  “So what do you think?” said Toril, in all her home-made regalia.

  “I think you look like a witch!” said Mrs Withers. “Halloween is not for another four months, you know.”

  “I know,” said Toril brightly. “Who said anything about Halloween?”

  Her mother stayed resolutely non-plussed, and let Toril get on with it, thinking it would be a phase, but Toril knew better.

  That year, Toril wore black for the entire twelve months. After that, things did change. She didn’t want to be feeling darkness all the time, and when Jacinta came along, Toril changed her wardrobe back to what it was, and her mother was relieved to see her going out with friends again, instead of being stuck in her room.

  Even so, Toril had learned not to talk to everyone about this subject. Jacinta, with her snow-white hair and oddball behaviour, was a possibility though.

  Toril was too young to join a coven, because who knows what that would entail? She could not risk it. Besides, she envisioned lots of midnight sacrifices and so on. The Wicker Man freaked her out. It wasn’t for her. Also, her parents wanted her in bed by ten at night. There was no way to even check if her thoughts were way off the mark or not.

  So, she became practised in the arts on her own, and became a self confessed solitary Wiccan.

  This in itself was dangerous, but with all her heart, this is what she wanted to be. The danger element was if she tried to involve any adults, because they were sure to shoot her down.

  Toril would have never envisaged having to fight some evil entity. Perhaps, in her dreams, she would think like this, but such thoughts were dangerous, as they had a way of coming to pass.

  Yet, here she was, standing in front of Dana, who, for reasons known only to herself, was hell bent on taking a life – Toril’s life.

  This set a new dangerous precedent for things, because Dana had only killed when being summoned by someone. Whilst it was true that Jacinta had been well meaning when she summoned Dana, it was foolish to mess with such things. Jacinta, indirectly, had paid with her life.

  The memory of the axe burying itself into Jacinta’s back, and her final fleeting moments in her arms, came flooding back to Toril.

  The tears, which had been flowing, stopped almost immediately.

  Dana smiled. She knew that Toril would have to do something, become something in order to destroy her.

  Raising her wand, Toril knew that either she would be left standing, or Dana would.

  With her feet already steadied, Toril marched with steely determination towards Dana. She whispered under her breath, not caring if her nemesis heard her or not.

  “This is for you, Jacinta.”

  * * *

  I turned to Beth, who was sitting up on the floor, trying not to clutch the gaping wound on her knee.

  “Milly? Are you okay? You’re really spooking me there!” said Beth. I wasn’t really paying attention though. Something had changed in me, and I could no longer say that I was in control of my actions, much less my thoughts.

  Beth had tried to hurt me, and she had the power to take the Mirror as well. Now, she wasn’t in a position to hurt anyone.

  But I could hurt her.

  It was all so clear to me, what I had to do.

  By smashing the Mirror over Beth’s head, I could hopefully bring it down with such force that in one, I could kill her, and release the Zeryths, maybe even another entity like Dana to help me with my quest.

  It never occurred to me that to carry this out would be wrong. It all seemed perfectly plausible. My Nan’s words were far from me now. Two years of my life had been taken up by the Mirror, but now, finally, I could let it go. My eyes flashed with a blood red.

  I crouched over Beth, and jammed my fingers into the wound on her knee, and dug my nails in until I felt bone. Beth screamed in agony and her face went a rather greenish pallor, but that did not stop me.

  Beth’s eyes bulged at the Mirror, as I held it aloft.

  With the collective force of every part of my being, I brought the Mirror down towards her head.

  * * *

  Toril had felt fear before, but not like this. The White Roses for Dana doll was one thing. Dealing with the reality was another.

  What was for certain, was that Dana had been responsible for Jacinta’s death. The fact that Troy had thrown the axe was lost on Toril for that moment.

  As she ran towards Dana, spells, enchantments, curses all ran through her head at breakneck speed.

  She needed to think of one that would break Dana, because, injured or not, she remained dangerous, perhaps moreseo because of the wound.

  Toril knew dark craft of course, but had never used it, never tested it. She knew that at best, she was only going to get one shot at this.

  The spell she was going cast combined a number of things.

  First, it would have to disarm Dana. She had a wand, just as Toril did, however Dana was much more practised in these evil arts and Toril knew she would be at a disadvantage fighting hand to hand.

  Second, it would have to make Dana comply and leave this world, never to return again.

  Third, Toril would aim to infect the wound, to ensure that Dana never regained her full powers.

  Fourth, and most seriously, the spell could cause Dana’s destruction.

  Dana had a completely different point of view, of course. Toril was just an insect to be squashed. She had been injured, yes, that was a surprise, even to her, but that axe was not of this world, and she did at least, have a sense of respect for it.

  This witch, was a white witch, at best. A tree-hugger, a sun worshipper. A joke. She didn’t have the skills to win, the genetics to win.

  One swish of her wand, and Toril would lay dead, another addition to a long list of people. One more would not matter. There was nothing special about this girl, except to say that vengeance had replaced the calm look that had been in her eyes when they had met previously.

  Her death then, would be even easier. Fear drove her. Anger consumed her.

  A simple wave and it would be done.

  “Fare-yo
u-ill, Toril Withers,” said Dana, with a sense of dead-eyed malice that she had become accustomed to.

  Toril’s wand was already at full stretch. Dana took hers out the sheath, and swished in a circular motion.

  The force sent Toril back so hard she must have been sent twenty five or thirty feet. She was only stopped going further because her body slammed into the crumbling brick wall of the chapel, where Jacinta lay at rest.

  Dana licked her wand and put it back in its sheath.

  “Deary me, that was pathetic,” she said.

  There would be no need to check the body. She had done far less to others, and they had not survived to tell anyone the tale. However, Dana always liked to have a keepsake.

  She had been walking away, towards the exit of the cemetery, when she suddenly turned and raced towards Toril. Dana could see what she wanted, and yanked it viciously from Toril’s neck.

  Dana laughed and put it in her pocket.

  “Why these fools put faith in such trinkets, I’ll never know.”

  She was about to walk away once more, when she realised there was some use for this girl after all. Resisting the urge to scalp her, using the serrated edge of her wand, Dana removed a clump of raven coloured hair from Toril’s head.

  Dana sensed that there was a way to recover from her wounds, “I can perform some craft of my own,” said Dana to herself. “I’ll be an eleven year old girl no more.”

  Dana disappeared into the night. If she went back to the realm from which she came, she went willingly. Toril lay motionless in the night sky.

  * * *

  Beth O’Neill was a pathetic sight. Bleeding, scared, hungry, far from home. Far from anyone who would care about her.

  I wanted to stop myself, but I just couldn’t. The animal heads were chanting at me to kill her and destroy the mirror. At first, the voices were all muddled, but soon enough, I got a sense of clarity. They kept on chanting ‘Set the Evil Ones Free,’ over and over again in my head.

  It was too much to take. Another voice – Beth’s was pleading with me to do not whatever I was thinking of doing.

  As I raised the Mirror high above her, preparing to stove her head in with it, all madness became me. I was crying, laughing, sad, happy, delirious, confused, all at the same time. Weaker than I had ever felt. Stronger than I had ever been.

  Another voice, the Demon’s, was strongest of all.

  Kill her now, Romilly.

  With the force of a hundred men, I brought the Mirror of Souls crashing down.

  The Burning Forest

  Troy Jackson was dazed and confused. He had been looking for Toril everywhere. He wanted to explain his actions to her, but would she believe him? He wasn’t confused. He knew who he wanted. But if she hated him, what could he do? Could he blame her?

  He wanted to retrieve the axe after destroying Dana with it. Things had not gone to plan, to put it mildly. Still, there was always the chance to rectify things, to put it right.

  He would make Toril see that she was the only one for him.

  He would have to walk to Gorswood Cemetery though, and from the Forest, this was at least five miles as the crow flies.

  Troy smiled to himself that Toril was realising skills that she had long held within herself. Disappearing like that with Beth and Jacinta was some trick. He only hoped that they were safe, because he shared Toril’s view on cemeteries.

  “They are a place for the dead, not the living,” she would say. “A fine waste of flowers too.”

  Still, using Toril’s mindset, the cemetery was the most logical place to find her. It would also be the last place anyone would be thinking of looking for her.

  Unless someone really was looking for her.

  Dana.

  Troy’s pace quickened as thoughts, events, memories ran through his head. Jacinta was dead, Toril and Beth were missing, and he knew he had left me, Romilly, at the mercy of Curie, if he possessed such a quality.

  Troy’s confused state began to clear up. He knew what he needed to do. No longer was this a brisk walk, nor an aimless wander through the forest. He broke into a run, and ran faster than he ever had in his life.

  * * *

  I could see the fear in Beth’s eyes. But what I was doing was important. It was everything. Soon, she would see that I was right.

  Except that I was knocked sideways by someone, or something as I was about to set the evil ones free.

  I had landed awkwardly, and watched as the Mirror clattered to the floor. I spun around to see who had hit me.

  Curie had returned.

  No matter. I didn’t care why. He had messed with me for the last time. The gloves – my gloves, were off. I launched myself at him and he punched me on the chin as I was coming in. The adrenalin kept me going though. He tried to get past me but I yanked what remained of his hair, and he yelped in pain as I pulled his hair so hard, the fullness of his neck was exposed.

  I dug my nails into his neck, and pulled clumps of skin out of him, cursing him repeatedly. The Mirror’s condition was unknown, but it was clear to me that Curie, even if he couldn’t use it, intended to ensure that I couldn’t either.

  I lifted my knee, smashing it into his stomach and head again and again. I knew it, even as I kept beating him to perhaps within an inch of his life, but still, I could not stop myself.

  Blood splattered the walls of Diabhal Takh. I had blood on my hands too. I felt disgusted with myself, yet at the same time, strangely vindicated.

  I turned to Beth as Curie writhed in pain on the floor.

  “You see Beth, what I was doing? This is my gift to you, don’t you see? He – this thing – killed your parents. I’m doing it for you, Beth.”

  I felt alone. Had the Demon left me?

  Beth crawled towards me on the floor, mumbling inaudibly.

  I still didn’t know where the Mirror was.

  Blood poured from Curie. I had never seen so much blood before. Then, to my total amazement, the blood started to collect itself, and go back into Curie’s body. The wounds I had inflicted on him started to heal, right before my eyes.

  “Oh damn,” he said. “To suffer this once more. When will it end? I really thought you’d done for me, Romilly. I wanted my last words to be thank you.”

  Shouting towards Beth, he mocked “How about you, Sister Beth? Going to pray for me, are you? Are you?”

  Beth managed to stand to her feet, even though her leg bent awkwardly.

  She pointed the bow at Curie.

  “No prayers for you,” she said. “You are going to tell me what I want to know though.”

  All will to get the Mirror had gone from me. From all of us, it seemed. Curie remained transfixed on Beth.

  “I’ve told you what you wanted to know. You won’t believe me though, will you Beth?”

  “There is something you haven’t told the truth about that night,” said Beth through clenched teeth, but you are going to tell me now. No Dana dolls, no zombies. Just you, me and the truth, damnit.”

  She pulled back on the bow, gently stroking the quiver.

  “Ever used that before Beth? I don’t recall you as school archery champion.”

  “From this distance, I’m as good as Calamity Jane. I won’t miss.”

  “Then you are a fool. That weapon was made for things that cannot be killed.”

  “Well, a pretty good trick you pulled on us just now,” I said. “You should be dead.”

  “You over-rate yourself, as usual, Romilly. Like all your friends. Troy. Toril, and er…oh yes, do tell me – where is Jacinta now?”

  As much as Curie deserved a final, absolute death, I wondered, given all I had seen happen in the past two years, how this could actually happen. Curie seemed impervious to any weapon, any human, any demon. Was he, in fact, ‘the man’ that Beth had been mumbling about?

  “Don’t you dare mention her name,” said Beth. She suddenly went unsteady on her legs.

  “Beth, sit down, will you?” I pleaded.

&n
bsp; Beth turned the bow towards me. “I’m not done with you yet, Romilly. You, or that Mirror. Go stand in that corner, and stay there.”

  I did as I was told. The fight had gone out of me.

  “No matter to me. She’s just an unfortunate casualty in this tale,” continued Curie. “You really want to know what happened?”

  “Yes! I want to know. I want to know, damn you.”