The Witch of Glenaster

by Jonathan Mills

  “And what will he do?” asked my brother, skipping slightly, an impatient crease on his brow. “Will he take us home? Will he rebuild our house? Will he help us find Mum and Dad?”

  I held his hand, and tidied his hair.

  “All those things, I hope, little one,” I said, quietly. And we were all silent for a time after that.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  In truth, there was some doubt creeping into my heart about whether I really had the strength, or the will, to kill the Witch of Glenaster. She was so old, and I so young, and full of the hubris of youth; but even so I knew I could not just walk up to her house, or wherever she lived, knock on the door, and put a stake through her heart. I had to be fully prepared. That might take months – years even. How could I wait that long? I would have to face her as soon as I could, whatever the consequences.

  “Many in the Court are in her service, whether by their own will or by hers,” said Thomas, when I asked him about the Witch. “Everyone watches everyone else, and no one trusts anyone.” He looked down, his face grave.

  “But why won’t they do something?” I asked. Magnus lay curled up at my feet, fast asleep. We were sat in the evening sunlight, in a small, sheltered glade. It was five days since we had left the Moonland, and the going had been slow through West Cross, with its dry fields and dirt tracks. We had followed the Old Road at a steady pace, Thomas always allowing Magnus and I as much rest as we needed, but keen to get going again when we had slept our fill. We were tired but determined, and had a good supply of provisions that Cornelius had given to us, and though I could have done with a change of clothes, I felt at peace, embracing the rhythm of the road. But always the fear of the Watchers haunted us, and once or twice we stopped while Thomas scanned the country through which we had just passed, looking for signs of pursuit. There seemed to be none, and it would only be the odd cart or labourer around the next bend, and not an assassin, and so we would eye them warily, and make our courtesies. But at night Thomas grew troubled, and slept little, his eyes always on the south, and the strange shadows cast by the moon.

  “They are all afraid,” he said, answering my question with a shrug. “Once, long ago, the empire was a great and noble place, where you could travel the roads in safety, and the emperors were known as men who were learned and just. But then they became lazy, in mind and body; and they neglected their books, and their people, and were interested only in enriching themselves; and the roads and bridges started to crumble for lack of repair, and thieves started to reappear on the roads; and the Witch of Glenaster awoke again, and her shadow spread slowly from the North. All of this took many years, for what one man builds, another can destroy; and some destroy quickly, with weapons and machines; and some more slowly, because they are weak, and they do not cherish those things they have inherited. So it is with the emperor. He is not a bad man; but he is weak, and the men surrounding him are greedy and selfish, and care only for their own advancement. The Witch flourishes because good men do nothing to stop her, and the less they do, the stronger she becomes.”

  A nightjar trilled its low, dry notes nearby, and I thought about what Thomas had said. Then I asked him:

  “Has a woman ever sat on the throne?”

  His eyes narrowed slightly.

  “Well, the Witch would like to…”

  “I do not mean the Witch – I mean a woman, any woman. Me, perhaps…” And I blushed as I said this, and wished I hadn’t, for the words came out in a rush, and I was glad it was getting dark.

  Thomas laughed, and the laugh became a cough as he smoked one of his filthy cigars.

  “Well, no woman yet has, and they say there is a good reason for that…!” He chuckled. “But I would gladly serve a woman – if she was strong, and could stand up to the Witch.” And he laughed some more, and then was silent, and smoked softly for a time.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  We were late getting up the next day, and my shirt was sodden with dew when I awoke.

  “Two more days’ travel,” said Thomas, stretching his long frame by the remains of the fire. “Two more days, and we should reach the Bowl.”

  “What is the Bowl?” asked Magnus, as we packed up our things, and continued back to the path.

  “Well,” said Thomas, “the Bowl is a large pool, just south of the City. It is a good league across at its widest point, and fifty feet down at its deepest, and it is always flooded, so that it forms a natural defence against enemies approaching from the south. The city itself is built on two hills: the Twin Hills, they call them. And at the highest point lies the Keep, where the emperor has his apartments, and can look out across the land for many leagues; and around the Keep are the great palaces and courtyards of the Citadel, where his retainers live, and where the Court conducts its business. It is like a city within a city.”

  “Have you ever been inside?” asked Magnus, screwing up his eyes against the glare of the autumn sun.

  Thomas took his time before replying.

  “Many years ago, yes,” he said quietly.

  By late morning, with the Road broadening out somewhat, and the trees beside it becoming less dense, we emerged on to the wide fields of the Middle Lowlands. It was all flat from here to Ampar: the Lowlands had been drained many years ago, and were made up of pastureland, divided by dykes, and fringed with willows and reeds. Here and there a cow stopped to gawp vacantly as we passed, and by the evening we had spent many miles, and the boom of the bitterns sung us to sleep in a hollow behind a small tree.

  Magnus had been complaining of his feet, and removing his shoes I could see that they were sore; Thomas applied some ointment, which stung a little, and made Magnus cry, and the next day Thomas carried him for a while. We saw there were orchards along our way, and took a detour to collect as many apples as we dared, and that morning ate a good breakfast, the fruit sharp and refreshing in our mouths.

  Magnus’s feet slowed us down some, though we found a deserted farmhouse in which to sleep, and even Thomas took a proper rest. One more night and we would reach the Capital.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  It is supposed that Alan, the first Emperor, chose Ampar as his capital city because of its position: two great hills in a flat landscape, lying along the main trade-route between the Old Kingdoms of the North and South, and straddling the Fern, one of the world’s great rivers, that now swept through the Capital’s northernmost reaches. A more romantic interpretation is that he had fled this way during the wars against the warlocks of the Dying Sea, and had been given shelter by the people here when in fear for his life. Whatever the truth, the city had grown large and powerful in the centuries since, and its towers and castles were sung about across the world; for even those who had never been to Ampar, and never would, knew of the Street of Dancers, or the High Bridge of Socus, suspended in the clouds like a tightrope, as if placed there by God Himself.

  We were weary and with angry stomachs, after another day of hard walking, and Thomas in particular looked tired and stiff after carrying Magnus on his back. I reproached my brother for making him carry him all that way, and he was protesting at me with defiant words, when Thomas told us to both to be quiet, and crouched low to the ground, facing back the way we had come.

  “Are there others?” asked Magnus, in his direct way, and I hushed him with a sweep of my hand. But Thomas answered him just as directly, by nodding, and standing up to face us.

  “A day behind us, at least; maybe more,” he said, “but moving fast.” He squinted slightly against the sunset, and his face made a grimace. “We can only afford a short rest tonight, then we must move on. It will take a good two hours at least to walk round the lip of the Bowl, and then we have to persuade the guards at the South Gate to let us in to the city.” He scouted briefly about him, then selected a ditch, away from the Road, which looked a likely hiding place.

  “There,” he said. And we obeyed, clambering quietly in, our bodies too tired to complain. Thomas kept the watch, and I thou
ght him superhuman to go without sleep in such a way. But as I gazed southward, I thought I saw strange lights moving with an unnatural speed against the dying light, and all the time gaining ground as they crept, steadily, in our direction.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Thomas woke us early, as he had said, and seemed full of worry. We felt dirty and sore, but he told us there were many places in the city where we could bathe - all day, if that was what we wished - but when I brought up the subject of money he simply waved away the question, as if it did not matter. Magnus and I shared a look.

  The Bowl was quite as wide and impressive as we had been told, though the water in it looked foetid and black, and Thomas warned us away from it. We walked listlessly around its edge, Magnus stumbling once or twice and almost falling in; but already, through a long line of poplar trees, we could espy the South Gate - and beyond it the towers and palaces of Ampar, Capital of the Known World.

  There seemed some kind of commotion at the gate, till Thomas explained it was the changing of the guard, and such fussy ceremonies were common in the city.

  “It keeps the emperor happy,” he explained. And I felt a growing relief as we approached, that here we could rest, and I might find some of the answers I was seeking. And then I thought of my parents, and home, and I started to weep, and Magnus also, when he saw my face; and gripping each other’s hands we marched towards the Capital, Thomas at our side, and the cold sun at our backs.

  The changing of the guard was complete by the time we arrived, and we stood, the three of us, in the shadow of the South Gate, its high oaken door ribbed with bolts and hinges in wrought iron, and much decorative work upon the fabric: snakes, bulls, strange men with lions’ heads; and in the centre, a carven image of a terrifying face, vast and forbidding, leering and baring its teeth to us as we stood beneath it.

  Thomas told us to wait while he approached the guards and spoke with them, and, though he tried to hide it, I could see he was nervous. There were six of them altogether, three on each side of the gate; four were as still as stone in their sentry boxes, the other two were manning the gate itself, shifting from foot to foot as they watched Thomas come towards them. I cast my eyes up, and saw there was a small guard-tower above, and at least two more guards looking down from it. I supposed there were many more, also, hidden out of sight behind the high wall of the city. They had tall plumes in their helmets, whose peaks were pulled down low over their faces so you could hardly see their eyes, and their uniforms were smart and brightly polished, their boots like black mirrors.

  Thomas was a while talking to them, and I began to worry. Why was he taking so long? It was a full fifteen minutes before he returned, fanning himself with his hat and muttering quietly under his breath. And then, as he approached, he smiled, and clapped us both on the shoulder.

  “Good news! They will let us in. They took their time about it, but I can’t blame them for their caution. They are just going to instruct the doorman now.”

  It was another ten minutes or so before anything happened, but then from within the walls a scraping - of bolts loosened, and latches unfastened - fell on our ears, and we saw the two halves of the Gate fall inward, the horrible face split in two, and the city within reveal itself. And so we walked forward, and it devoured us.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Nowhere I had been prepared me for the chaos that met me as I entered the Imperial City for the first time.

  I had thought the crowds in the Hale Trading House great, but now they seemed small and the epitome of orderliness compared to the strange and frightening throng I now witnessed. On every side were people and languages of every custom and nation, and their talk and habits seemed alien and unfriendly. The air was thick with a sweet-smelling dust, and, self-conscious as I was, I thought every person I saw knew I was a stranger there, and was inwardly laughing at me for my awkwardness. I felt I had been decanted into a bottle of rich wine.

  We were in a large open space, at least two acres in size, and framed by the wall through which we had just passed, with pillared cloisters on either side, where people wandered or loitered. It seemed half the main space was taken up with market stalls, some brightly coloured and inviting, others shabby and forlorn.

  Up ahead of us, a good quarter of a mile from the gate, was a large set of broad steps which fanned upward towards a second level, where more people scurried and half-walked, half-ran about their business, careless and unheeding of those in their way. As I took all of this in, my head ached and my guts rolled with fear, and I heard the gate boom back in to place, and I knew we were here for a while now at least, that this was our next future.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  “This is the First of the Five Courts,” said Thomas, leading us confidently through the crowd. I kept a tight hold on Magnus’s hand. “Each is on a higher level than the one before, and the Fifth is away up there…” He pointed somewhere into the far distance. “They are where the traders and stallholders conduct their business, and the city makes its money.” Two tall, bald men in lavender-coloured robes pushed past us. “Eunuchs,” said Thomas, in a stage whisper, and raised his eyebrows; and Magnus and I couldn’t help laughing, despite ourselves. “The cloisters lead off to other courtyards and houses, and the steps to the Second Court, and then yet more steps, and then a whole maze of different doors and corridors that you could get lost in for an entire year.” And he turned suddenly around, to check we were still there. “But that won’t happen to us! Because you have me to guide you, and I know this city like the back of my hand…” At which point he stopped abruptly, and seemed unsure where to go. Then, picking up the trail again, he said: “They’ve changed that bit…”

  We were now climbing the stairs to the Second Court, and I was careful to shield Magnus from the pushing and shoving of the other pedestrians, sometimes finding it difficult to keep on my feet myself, though I was tall for my age. The Second Court was tidier and neater than the First, though just as busy; still, it seemed easier to move about, and Thomas led us on to a pergola that ran above the streets below, and here it was quieter, and the greenery about us was cool. “Nice view from here – though nothing compared to the higher levels…” he observed. He was almost running now, and I had to remind him not to go too fast. “Of course not, of course not…!” he said, rounding a corner as the pergola met a small courtyard, which he strode across impatiently. I wondered if he had some plan to put into action now he had arrived in the city, or some secret assignation to make. But though he seemed revived by the sights and sounds of the Capital, there was still that old wariness and dark turn to the eye that told me he remained ever watchful.

  The small courtyard led into a garden, richly planted with asters, fennel, and dahlias. I wished I could linger, but Thomas kept on striding ahead, and we followed him along a loosely paved path, as the garden curved and turned towards a narrow lane bordered by high hedges of sickly-green conifer, and down this we plunged, as it led us on for a good fifty yards further, until we emerged by a fountain, the sound of its water hardly more than a whisper as it fell away into a pool decorated with a large mosaic of a naked woman, her face a mask of stern disapproval.

  Thomas barely stopped to look. He was making for another set of steps, narrower than the ones we had climbed before, and half-hidden by a cluster of fruit trees.

  “Here,” he said, and as we clambered after him we saw that the steps went high – there were two hundred of them at least – and we protested, though he did not seem to hear. We stopped to catch our breath anyway, halfway up, and leant against the marble baluster at the steps’ edge. Thomas, who had been bounding on ahead of us, turned to look, and smiled.

  “Well,” he said, coming back down toward us. “I’m sorry if I’ve worn you out…” And he gave an ironic little bow, which I thumped him gently for. “Ow! I don’t think I deserved that. Still, you know what they say: less haste, more speed. And I want to get you to your quarters in good time. There’s much I’d like
to see and do in the city before sundown – things I must do alone – and time goes on.”

  “Our quarters?” asked Magnus, wiping his nose on his sleeve. I knocked him on the arm to remind him not to do it.

  “Yes!” replied Thomas. “You have to have somewhere to stay, don’t you?”

  I blinked at him.

  “But I thought…”

  “It’s true, I have very little money; but I have other favours owing to me, and not a few from here in the city.” He grasped the baluster, and looked out over the crowded roofs and squares of Ampar, dotted together like lichen around the base of a tree. Then he cast his eyes up, at the towers and palaces sweeping precipitately up to the sky, high above our heads. “The higher you live in Ampar, the richer you must be,” he told us. “And those who live in the uppermost of the uppermost apartments are rich indeed, the city’s elite. The emperor himself, they say, lives quite frugally – for an emperor. He likes to set an example…” And he turned back to us. “But I think your apartments will do you just as well! Shall we go?”

  And he bounced up the stairs like a puppy, and we padded obediently after.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Stefano the Cook had a face so sunken it looked like the ruin of a once proud building: weather-beaten and strange, its supports all but collapsed, defying the elements to come and wash it away. Yet there was a fierce light to the eye that spoke of a tenancy within, long but not yet expired, that was full of mischief and intent to continue its occupation for as long as possible.

  So it struck me as I shook his hand, and listened to the creak of his smile as he welcomed us to his home.