by C. Ellsworth
Addy cut frantically at the vines that had wound around her hips, but it was hopeless! The ground writhed in a carpet of eager tentacles. Lord help us! But still they came. The vines shot up and wound around her stomach, reaching up past her breasts and across her back. Then something stuck her in the neck, and a painful prick sent a wave of numb and tingle spreading through her body.
Then darkness.
Chapter 26
Addy awoke with a start, her heart pounding and her breath heavy. She turned her head, her eyes failing to focus properly at first. She was in a small one-room shack with walls of weathered wood and two small windows. Various plants and herbs hung from the crossbeams above her, filling the space with a pungent odor. Or was that smell coming from the iron pot boiling over the fireplace?
She tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness swept over her, and the pain in the back of her neck was like a hot needle. She couldn’t move her hands. She couldn’t move her feet. She was bound at the ankles and wrists where she lay on the floor. How had she gotten here? Whose house was this?
She looked around, wincing as she turned her head, and the room spun. The others were on the floor nearby, tied in similar fashion by some kind of cord, smooth and black. Karine moaned softly, eyes closed. They were all unconscious.
The door to the house swung open, and an old woman stepped inside. She was thin—all bone and sinew—and hunched over. On her left shoulder, beneath a plain dark dress, was a growth of some sort, about the size of a melon. And wispy, white strands of hair hung limply from her otherwise bald scalp. Her dark skin was like aged leather.
The woman caught sight of Addy through her nearly-white eyes, eyes that looked too much like a skeg’s. She cackled, showing a mouth void of all teeth save one. “The venom does not linger in you like the others, we see.” Her voice sounded like a pig squeal. She shuffled across the room to check Addy’s bindings, a strong scent of rot and herbs wafting about her. “That’s good. The venom leaves a nasty aftertaste.”
Addy watched the woman. Aftertaste? We? The woman must have been Faege-addled! How long had she been living out here?
Addy worked moisture back into her mouth. There was an odd metallic taste on her tongue. “What . . . are you going to do with us?” Her words came out slightly slurred. The venom must still be affecting her.
Grinning, the woman brought a bony finger to the side of her hawkish nose and winked. She had a smudge of dirt on one cheek, and her long, dark robes were covered in filth. She looked like she had been working in a garden. She pointed to the large pot on the fire.
Oh, Lord! The old hag was going to eat them! Addy tried to shrink back, but she had nowhere to go. The cord around her wrists was tight enough that her hands tingled.
The woman turned and started to hum as she began chopping at something. Vegetables, by the sound of it. One of those vegetables let out a sudden shriek as the large knife sliced it in two. “Oh, hush!” The hag scooped it up and put it into the pot with the others. Addy’s stomach churned.
That song that the old woman was humming, so soft and soothing. It was the same song Mama used to sing while cradling Addy as a girl. So many times she had fallen to sleep to that song.
The old woman stopped. The knife frozen in place above a shriveled carrot. Then she lowered the blade and turned, her pale eyes coming to rest on Addy. “So, have the Power in you, eh?” It was not a question. How could the hag have known? Addy hadn’t been humming.
Addy swallowed. Her mouth was suddenly very dry. “How did you—”
The hag stepped closer, the knife point aimed at Addy. “Oh, we know all about the Power, little miss.” A candle on a nearby stand lit up with flame, and the old woman gave it a quick sidelong glance. “A small thing. Can’t do much more than that after living for—oh, what’s it been—five hundred and seventy-two years? But I can sense it as well as I can smell the food cooking in that pot.”
The woman could sense Addy’s magic? Wait. Addy had sensed something when the flame came alight, a brief tingle across her skin, a warmth in her chest. So the magic—the Power—could be sensed! What else might she learn from this old witch? Would she share a few things before . . . carving Addy up like a hog? She had to keep her talking! “You’re five hundred and seventy-two years old?”
“We think so.” The hag’s wrinkled mouth pursed. “We stopped paying much attention after around four hundred. Want to know our secret?” She looked at Addy, pale eyes wide with excitement.
Maybe if Addy stalled, an opportunity to escape might present itself. “Yes, please. Tell me, if you don’t mind.”
“The Faege!” The woman’s eyes widened further, her mouth agape in that one-tooth smile. She burst into a wave of laughter that turned quickly into a fit of coughs, and when she recovered, she drew close to Addy and kneeled, joints creaking. Then she placed a gnarled hand against Addy’s cheek. “It’s all around us.” Her voice was soft, her wrinkled face filled with wonder. “It’s in the trees and the bushes. It’s in the animals. In the ground. And it’s in us! You especially!”
Addy moved her head away from the old woman’s hand. It was unnaturally hot against her skin, and smelled of rotten meat. “I’m not sick.” The Faege? In her? Ridiculous! “How can the Faege be in me if I’m not sick?”
The corner of the old woman’s shriveled mouth bent into an amused grin. Then she regarded the hand still hovering near Addy’s face before closing her fingers and letting it drop to her side. “Some tolerate it more than others.” Her pale eyes washed over Addy from head to toe. “And some can use it to great purpose.”
Addy shook her head. The woman was insane! The Faege had infected everyone ever born? The same Faege that was killing her brother was actually giving her power? A fire erupted in Addy’s middle. “No! You lie! You are nothing but an evil, Faeged witch!”
The witch lifted her head and cackled until she gasped for air. And when she had caught her breath, she licked her lips and smiled. “You and us are the same, my dear!” She coughed once more. “Call us witches, if you will. Call us blessed by the Spirelight. But we are the same! And when you are in our belly, your power will sustain us for decades to come.”
Addy blinked, her eyes stinging with unshed tears. The old woman was truly mad! She had to get out of here!
Beside her, Karine stirred and let out a soft moan. The witch’s eyes darted to her and then back to Addy. “Not much time left.” She grinned. “Got to get you all chopped up and into the brine before you start wailing in our old ears. Can’t stand the wailing, especially from the young ones. Gives us a headache, it does.” She turned back to her vegetables and took up her humming again.
Sweat beaded on Addy’s brow. Lord, tell me what to do! How do I get out of this? Karine moaned again, and Addy turned to face her, sliding closer so as not to attract the witch’s attention. “Karine,” Addy whispered, but she only let out another moan. With arms bound behind her, Addy could only nudge Karine with her forehead. “Karine, wake up.”
Karine’s eyes fluttered open, and she raised her head before wincing and dropping back down. “W—what happened?” she whispered. “My neck . . . Where are we?”
“We’re in a lot of trouble, Karine. I need you to clear your head and help me.” Karine nodded. This had to work. They didn’t come all this way, losing Liah to the spideroak and Sorsia to the skeg, only to be turned into stew! Addy’s heart was trying to pound its way through her rib cage. She whispered again. “Turn around, and I’ll do the same. Maybe we can untie each other’s hands.”
Addy cast a quick glance in the witch’s direction. The old hag was still preoccupied with vegetables. Addy turned around, feeling with her tingling fingers until she found Karine’s hands, and then Karine started working on untying Addy’s cord. They had to get free before it was too late! The witch still hummed, but it was only a matter of time before she turned back around. “Hurry, Karine! Please, hurry!”
The old woman stopped humming, but her chopping neve
r ceased. “Do you know where the Faege comes from?”
Addy’s stomach clenched. If the woman turned around suddenly . . . “No . . . uh . . . Miss. Where does it come from?” Just keep her talking for a little longer!
“The Faege was conjured by men!” The knife chopped down again, and another vegetable shrieked before falling silent. “A great plague was spreading over the land at the height of their power, and try as they might, they could not find a way to stop it; that is, until it was nearly too late. But by then, the plague had spread so far and so wide that the only way to counter it was to build a great machine to deliver the cure.”
Karine still worked frantically at Addy’s bound wrists, and the cord felt a little looser now. Just a little more, and Addy would be able to pull her hands free. She had to keep the witch talking. “Are you talking about the Tower?”
The old hag cackled. “Yes, yes, the Tower! It was the Tower, you see, that they built to conquer the plague, but something terrible went wrong. In their haste to find the cure, they missed something very important, and when the Tower released that cure across the land, the Faege was born. Oh, the plague was cured, of course, but they quickly discovered that the Faege was worse, so much worse.”
After one final tug, the cord around Addy’s wrists came loose, and she pulled her hands free. They were almost completely numb, so she worked her fingers until the feeling returned. Then she started to work on Karine’s bonds.
The witch suddenly placed her knife down and turned. “Well, that’s done.” She wiped her gnarled hands on her filthy dress. “Time for the meat.” If she noticed anything out of the ordinary—with Addy and Karine now back-to-back—she didn’t show any signs. She crossed over to Addy and picked her off the floor as if she were a sack of feathers.
Addy gave a soft grunt as she was lifted, holding her hands together as if they were still bound. How was the old, bent hag so strong?
The witch carried her over to the table and dropped her down. Then she retrieved her knife from the counter and started back. “Lord of Light, bless this bounty.” She put the blade to Addy’s throat. “Let it sustain our body for years to come.” Addy squirmed and tried to move away from the knife, but the old woman held her firmly. “Let it nourish us with strength in the Power.”
The old woman looked into Addy’s eyes through pale orbs. “Thanks for talking with us, little Miss. It’s a rare treat to—”
“Stop!” Karine shouted, and the witch drew back, the knife leaving Addy’s throat.
Now was Addy’s chance! With a furious cry, Addy swung a fist and smashed the old hag square in the jaw. The witch staggered back and fell to the ground, crashing against the small table and sending the lit candle tumbling off and into a small basket of dried herbs.
Addy tore her ankles free and hopped off the table. She reached for her daggers, but the sheathes at her hips were empty. Were their weapons still in the flower patch?
Karine was coming to her feet, having somehow freed herself. The men were conscious now as well, lifting their heads to see what was happening. If only she could run to them, to Ryan, but the old witch was coming to her feet, her wrinkled face contorted with rage.
“You can’t leave us!” Those pale eyes glared daggers at Addy. “We will have you for our supper!”
The basket of dried herbs burst into flame, drawing the witch’s attention for just a moment. A glint caught Addy’s eye. The knife! It was lying on the table! She grabbed it and leveled it at the woman. “We are leaving!”
While she kept the witch at bay with the knife—the old woman’s wrinkled lips working wordlessly, her eyes desperate—Karine freed the two men and helped them to their feet. They swayed a little, but they appeared ready to run. The fire rose higher, spreading quickly to the overturned table.
With a sudden shriek, the witch darted for Addy, her knobby fingers outstretched toward Addy’s throat. Addy sidestepped at the last moment, whirled about, and brought the handle of the knife down hard on the woman’s nearly bald skull. With a loud crack, the witch stumbled forward and crashed to the floor facedown. There she lay, unmoving.
The flames grew hot as they licked the crossbeams above.
“Everyone out!” Traizen rushed past, staggering until he was through the door. Karine and Ryan went next, with Ryan’s arm around Karine’s shoulders for support. They gave Addy a desperate look, and then they, too, were outside.
As the flames spread across the ceiling, Addy glanced down at the unmoving witch. Blood was oozing from the back of her head where Addy had hit her. Was she dead? If she wasn’t, she soon would be, thank the Spirelight. Addy took a quick step toward the doorway, but a small cry stopped her. She turned around and gasped.
The bulge on the witch’s shoulder shifted beneath her dress, and Addy’s stomach leaped into her throat. She took a step back. Run, fool! But what was under that dress? Was the witch not dead? The flames grew higher and hotter.
Despite the growing heat, Addy steeled herself and moved toward the witch. She crouched and took the fabric of the hag’s filthy dress between finger and thumb. Then she pulled it upward and cut a line with the knife blade.
Another soft, raspy cry sounded, and Addy quickly lifted away the cloth. Her heart seized. There, growing from the old woman’s shoulder, was a face—a twisted, horrible face! The mouth—crooked and full of rotten teeth—opened and closed, the lips working as if to talk, but nothing came out except for that windy howl. It’s pale eyes turned toward her.
Addy shrunk back and gagged. The room was nearly filled with smoke now, and the flames roared across the ceiling. Ryan’s voice called from outside. “Addy, get out of there! Addy!”
Addy’s stomach clenched once more, and she tore her eyes away from that face, lest she vomit. But then the face gave another soft cry, and a fire ignited in Addy’s middle. She spun, swinging, and the knife blade sunk deep into one eye with a sickening crunch. Blood oozed, and the face moved no more.
The smoke was so thick now Addy could hardly see. She coughed as it filled her lungs with burning ash. She turned and darted for the door, emerging into daylight where her friends were waiting with worried faces.
Traizen was leaning heavily against a large rock, forehead in hand. Ryan stood beside Karine, a comforting arm around her as she cried. On the ground at their feet were their weapons. They must have found them on the way out.
Ryan’s eyes met Addy’s, and his face flooded with relief. He let go of Karine and took a step forward, lips curling into that crooked smile. Then he closed the distance and pulled Addy into his arms.
Addy let out a sigh, then buried her face into his shoulder and sobbed. He held her tightly, stroking her hair and whispering into her ear, “It’s all right now, Addy. You’re safe.”
Chapter 27
Gray smoke streamed into the clouded, afternoon sky from where the witch’s hut burned in the distance. Addy watched it over her shoulder as she walked. The witch, with its second hideous face, was surely burned to cinders by now. Good riddance! Had they really come that close to being eaten?
The dark clouds atop the Tower still spun violently, illuminated by flashes of lightning that sent waves of thunder rolling across the valley. Every passing moment saw the circle of the storm grow larger and fiercer, it seemed, a reminder that their time was not without limit.
A light layer of mist blanketed the ground at Addy’s feet, the storm above keeping the sun from burning it away completely. Was it the Faege that created that mist? The Faege was in everything, in everyone, according to what the witch had said, especially in Addy. But how could that be? She didn’t feel the least bit ill, and she knew many others in town—her companions included—that didn’t seem to be ailing either. Was the witch as mad as she seemed?
Then there was the mention of the Power, caused by the Faege itself, according to the witch. The old hag seemed to have control over it, though, the way she lit that candle. If only Addy could have learned a thing or two. Before she drove
a knife into her face—her second face—and left her to cook, that is.
Addy shook her head and turned her eyes forward. Ryan was talking with Traizen about combat tactics again. He made a down-sweeping motion with his arm, as if swinging a sword. “Like that. Cut through the shoulder right here.” He tapped the shoulder of the taller man beside him.
Karine—walking beside Addy—stumbled, but she caught herself. She tucked a stray lock of dull blonde hair behind her ear. “Faege and ashes!” The curse was muttered under her breath, an odd sound coming from someone usually so prim and proper.
For a time, they walked in silence. Then Karine cleared her throat. “What was all that talk about . . . the Faege . . . back in that place? Do you think that the old woman was right? About the Faege being in us all? And why did she say you had a . . . power in you?”
Addy’s face grew warm. This wasn’t a good time to explain the things she could do—or rather, the things that just happened because of what she could do. She paused, then shrugged. “I don’t know. I think the woman was Faege-crazed. No more than that. Who wouldn’t be after spending years and years out here alone, surrounded by . . . this?” She spread her hands, looking around.
Karine nodded. “You’re probably right.” Then she turned her gaze to Ryan, and her eyes became . . . thoughtful. “You like him, don’t you?”
Addy looked at Ryan again. Like him? Butterflies danced in her stomach. Did she . . . like Ryan? True, being in his arms had been wonderful, but he was part of her company. He was there to protect her. There was no time for such games out here. She shrugged.
Karine gave her a knowing smirk, and they continued on.
After they set up camp—which was to say they lit a fire again and chose spots in the dirt where they would sleep—they settled down to watch the last remnants of purple sunlight slipping away at the horizon. Above them, the storm continued to swarm. It loomed large and foreboding atop the Tower, looking like a great, writhing beast trying to swallow the Spirelight that pierced its heart.
