CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE
The day grew colder, an unnatural cold even for the time of year, and I thought it could not be possible to go much further, when we saw the Ice Bridge ahead, like a rumour in the low fog. It had been built by imperial engineers nearly two hundred years before, when the Witch was still sleeping, and it stood weathered but unbroken by many winters. Once, the emperor had thought to destroy it, in order to prevent the servants of the Witch from crossing the river; but the soldiers sent to perform the task had never returned, and anyway it was a futile gesture, for when the river froze over, in the depth of winter, the Witch’s armies could cross it at will.
We trudged the short distance towards the bridge - though it seemed much further because of our weariness - and when we were almost about to set foot upon it, Thomas stopped, and turned to me, and said:
“Esther, it may be best if you wait for me here. You can hide - it will be as safe as anywhere - and I can leave you some supplies. I hope to return in no more than a week, for it is three days’ journey from here into the heart of Glenaster, and at least that many back again. I thought for a while that you might come with me, and indeed I would be glad of the company; and it may be, perhaps, that the answers we both seek are on the other side of that river. But now that I am here, I fear to take you with me, and I have put you in enough peril already.”
I thought for a moment, and then said to him:
“I think both our paths have been leading us here, and I think also that we have both come too far now to return. You do not need to explain yourself to me. My mind is made up.”
But he bit his lip, and hesitated, saying:
“You are still very young, Esther, and I fear you do not grasp the full import of what you are saying. I am old by the reckoning of warriors, and cannot have many fighting years left. If I do not do what I have come to do now, I think I will no longer have the heart or the strength for it. But there is little enough left for me on God’s earth, and no one to mourn me if I should not return. Therefore I say again: you may wait here for me, and if I am not returned in six days, you should find your way back somehow to what safe places are left. Or we can part now, for as likely as not I will not be coming back.”
I listened for a moment to the sorrowing wind, as it sang high and mournful above our heads, and the naked trees bowed to the earth. I might never see my brother again. Thomas was all I had.
“I will follow you, even if it means my death,” I said, defiant. “For I may be young, but I have seen my share of it, and I do not think there is much joy for me anymore, except to bring justice upon those who killed my family, and destroyed my home. So you can judge me or not, as you wish. I am resigned to it.” And I stood as tall as I could, and my face, I think, took on a proud aspect as I looked at him.
“Those are bitter words,” he said, “and I hope never to hear them again from one so young. Still, they do you credit, Esther; and I swear to you, if we survive this week, I shall be your bodyguard and protector for as long as I live, and no enemy shall touch you while I have breath. And if we should return victorious, then the whole world will know of what you have done, and I will kill any man who does not give thanks when he hears of it.”
I smiled, and said:
“I hope we are not always so sombre…”
And at this he laughed, and nodded. I wrapped my coat about my shoulders, and started to walk towards the bridge. But he held me back for a moment, saying:
“Before we cross the river, there are things you should know. When we reach the northern shore, it is as likely as not that we will become known to the Witch – even more so than we are now – and will come under the influence of her mind. This may make us do and say things strange and alien to us, so we must be sure to keep our wits. Do you understand?”
I nodded.
“I know you are weary, but there is some food to be had where we are going, and though it is often strange and mean-tasting, it can give us strength enough for what we have to do, and will keep us alive. Esther - ” And he put his hand on my shoulder. “There is fear where we are going, and horror. I know you would not flinch from it, for you are stronger in heart and mind than most grown men; but still…”
He reached for his belt, and unhooked from it his seax, in its leather scabbard, and passed it to me.
“Once, all women carried these, as well as men, as a symbol of their freedom. Keep this close about you. Do not hesitate to use it, against anyone – even me, Esther – if need presses. You promise me?”
I whispered, yes, and pushed the knife into a pocket of my coat, and thought: I will stain this with the Witch’s blood.
And so we crossed the Ice Bridge of Sennow, that leads to Glenaster, and we did not look back.
CHAPTER SEVENTY
The fire hissed and spat in the wind, and once or twice threatened to go out. But Thomas sheltered it, and us, as best he could, and we gained a kind of warmth from the flames. We were three days out from the Green Cities, which now seemed as unreal as a dream, and deep in the Lessening Lands.
Crossing the Ice Bridge had taken only minutes, yet it had seemed more, and there was the unmistakable sense of moving from one domain to another; never have I felt it more keenly. Most borders are marked only by signposts, or lines on maps, or perhaps high walls. Yet here one could feel in one’s heart that one was leaving the world of men behind, and entering another one altogether, where other laws held sway, and few dared to tread.
I watched the river sweep below, churning, unmindful of human affairs. It said, Here I have forged a path through the hills and mountains, and ground solid rock to dust for centuries; and here I will remain, long after you are gone. The bridge swayed a little in the wind, and let us pass; I suppose it had seen many foolish souls take this path, and we both knew, though we did not say it, that whatever happened now, we had brought it upon ourselves.
The lands on the northern side of the river did not at first seem unfriendly; indeed, they actually seemed rather cheerier than those we had left behind - the ground warmer, the wind a little less harsh. I felt a kind of light-headedness at the thought of our adventure, and even forgot for a while my recent sorrows; but I was mindful of what Thomas had told me, that here there were many spells designed to entrap the unwary, and merely by crossing the Soar we had probably released many of them. And so I was careful, whenever I felt about to think or say things that seemed out of character, to check my tongue, and remind myself that, if we were to retain control of our wills, we had to always be on our guard. There would be no real rest now, until either we, or the Witch, were dead.
Thomas gathered winterberries, and even killed some small animals to cook on the fire; and though they were mean eating, they kept us alive, and I was grateful for them. Yet, in truth, everything in this strange land had a bitter taste to it, including the air, and all the living things that crawled or flew about us cast dark shadows.
By late morning on the second day, the landscape of high grass and battered trees gave way to a more barren one, and I knew we must be in the Lessening Lands. Mile after mile of jagged rock had been sharpened to daggers by the ferocious wind, and many travellers had succumbed to cold or hunger here, without ever reaching Glenaster. But Thomas knew the safest paths through the wilderness, and led us along them quietly and quickly.
Still, the lack of real shelter, and the merciless cold – especially during the night, when the sun hid its face – drained my courage, and though Thomas did his best to keep us both warm and dry, I could not help but shiver as I lay against the cold rock.
That third night out on the plains of the Lessening Lands was to be our last.
“Tomorrow we will be in Glenaster, all being well,” Thomas told me, as I crawled beneath my blankets to sleep. And, despite the cold, I soon fell to dreaming.
In my dream, I saw a woman’s face, and I supposed she must be the Witch, for she looked old and young all at once. And she sang to me in the stillness, and whispered my name:
“Esther.”
And her laughter was like water dripping gently into a pool, and she kissed me then, over and over, on my face, until my eyes ran with tears, and my heart sang with joy. And I loved her.
I felt my shoulder shaken then, and my eyes focus hazily on the world outside my mind.
There was Thomas Taper, kneeling above me, and his look was grim.
“Esther,” he said, in a whisper. “Esther, wake up. We have to find better shelter. There are Watchers moving through the valley.”
CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE
We had been fortunate – suspiciously so, perhaps – in not encountering one of the drooj, or their brethren, since crossing the river; and I supposed the Witch thought us no threat, for we were hardly much of an army. But then I thought how she had harried and hounded us all the way on our journey from the South, from at least the moment we stepped on to the Fearless Plateau, if not before; and I wondered if she had simply allowed us to come this far unhindered, and was waiting for us to be drawn further into her web before destroying us at her leisure.
We gathered up our things, and made our way in the dark - Thomas leading, clutching my hand – toward a small tor, which loomed like a house against the star-rich sky, and managed to scramble on to the top, from where we could see, lying flat on our bellies and gazing across the valley, a long procession of lights, which flickered in a great arc towards the Ice Bridge, and the river.
The line of marchers went on and on, and seemed to have no end; it must have moved across the horizon, a good half-mile from where we lay, for over an hour, and seemed in no hurry. Many times I looked up at Thomas, to try to read his face, but he only looked as he had before: weary, and sorrowful. After a good while, he said, without looking at me:
“I have been selfish, Esther.”
When he said nothing more, I asked him why.
“Because I have claimed to be your protector, but I have only taken you to your doom.” And he looked at me then, and his eyes had a fierce light; but his lashes were fringed with tears. “Many years ago,” he said, “I was a guardsman, a Captain of the Keep – commanded to protect the emperor from assassins, and to keep safe the Citadel. Of course there were other captains, but I was one of the bravest: or most foolish. I had fine apartments in the Palace grounds, and the admiration of my men. It was a good life. Then came word from the North, that the Witch had woken from her long sleep; and many good warriors volunteered to go to Glenaster, to destroy her. None returned. I too had volunteered, but the emperor would not let me go, commanding that I stay and defend the Keep. And so I did, and many of my soldiers with me: William Bowyer, Griffin Drake, Lukas. But the Witch grew in strength, and our armies were beaten back time and again; and soon whole swathes of the empire were left undefended, and at the mercy of the fire-drakes. And the emperor fell into a gloom from which he did not stir; and the court squabbled about which was the best way to defeat the Witch, and who might succeed the emperor when he died, for he has no heir. And, being impetuous, and thinking myself better than other men, I was openly critical of their schemes, and called them fools, even to their faces, especially when I had had too much wine. I told them I would send my finest lieutenant, Tom Showers, and a band of men under his command, to kill the Witch; and the orders they would follow would be mine. And so, to keep me quiet, they allowed me to go ahead with my plan, and I wish to God that that they had not, for it cost many lives, and many good men perished. Tom and the others made it as far as Glenaster, but then they were scattered – killed or driven mad by the Witch’s servants – and only one man returned to Ampar to tell us what had happened: Ben Weekes, one of the bravest soldiers of the Keep, and he was dead within days. Tom Showers appeared not long after - or rather his head did, driven onto a stake at a crossroads just north of the city. We never found his body - nor those of the others – though Ben claimed before he died that he had seen them turned into Watchers, and the Third Eye tattooed upon their foreheads. I took responsibility for their deaths, and for the failure of their mission, and I was banished to High Meadow, in the Far West, and many of my men with me. But my punishment did not end there, for the journey was long and perilous, and we were attacked more than once by the fire-drakes; and it was one of these that took my wife, Eleanor, and my two young sons.”
Unconsciously, he clutched at the pendant, hanging about his neck, and I saw now that on it was carved the likeness of a woman, and a single letter: “E”. The tears unlocked themselves from his eyes, and ran freely to the ground.
“That was nearly ten years ago now. I arrived at High Meadow a childless widower, and my heart broke like a stone and will not now heal. And I made a pledge before God, that I would have my revenge on the Witch, though it cost me my life; and several of my men swore an oath to help me. But it took many years of planning, and long service in the wars against the emperor’s enemies in the western lands, before I was able to leave my post; and I contrived an urgent errand, far to the south; and afterwards set rumours about the land that I had been killed by bandits on the road. And I sold my horse, and went by foot, and spent long months in the Far South, lying low, before finally returning north, to meet with my companions in Ampar, as we had previously arranged.
That was when I encountered you, Esther, and your brother: it was I who followed you through Calm. I had stayed away from the roads to avoid being seen, for I knew I might be hanged as a deserter, but when I saw you had also done so, I wondered why.
All my instincts told me to leave you behind, after I had killed those robbers; but I suppose I was lonely, and I missed my own children. I don’t think I expected you would come with me, and certainly not this far.”
He looked out at the line of torches, moving with unearthly silence across the plain, and shivered.
“I do not know if I have the strength to kill the Witch,” he said then, so softly I could hardly hear. “But I have to try. But I am sorry I have brought you here, Esther; it was never my wish…”
The grim procession continued on its way through the Lessening Lands, seeking only sorrow, and the destruction of the Witch’s enemies. And we were silent for a long time. But then I said, taking Thomas’s hand:
“There is no shame in your words. I too wish for revenge upon the Witch, for the murder of my family, and I don’t suppose you or anyone else would have stopped me. But I do know that most likely I would have been dead, and my brother with me, long ago, if you had not come to our aid. And so we are both fools, Captain, you and I; and we will pay for our foolishness together.”
He looked at me then, as if seeing me for the first time; and we took comfort in each other’s company, gazing out at the Witch’s armies, as they crept towards the river, and the world we knew.
And so we passed the last night before crossing into Glenaster.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO
The road into Glenaster was quite overgrown, but passable, and clear in the grey chill of the morning. I was not sorry to leave the Lessening Lands, with their pinched and bare rocks, a vast, forbidding beach without a sea. The way into the Witch’s home was fringed with larch and silver birch, and once I spied a robin, blood-red breast puffed up against the cold, eyeing his domain. But no song escaped his throat, and he soon sprang off into the branches.
We had roused ourselves, stiff and weary, early with the dawn, and never before in our journey had I longed so for my bed – or any bed – to lie down in and sleep, though I had had some hard nights since leaving my home. We slid and stumbled on the frosty earth, and by mid-morning my throat was as sore as rough stone, and I felt ill and frightened. Thomas insisted I rest for a while, and he heated some medicine over a fire and made me drink it. It was warm and foul, and tasted of boot polish.
We came into Glenaster like mice into a kingdom of cats. Sometimes we took the road, and sometimes we didn’t. This was the road built in the days when there was much traffic between Ampar and the Old Kingdoms, and many men made their homes in the high fells and
valleys of the north. No one could say for certain when the Witch first appeared, though most agreed it was about the time of the wars between the emperor and the warlock Azi. Azi was a strong and proud sorcerer, greatest of all magicians during the long reign of the Emperor Richard, and he would brook no rival. He built a great fortress in Calmir, in the far north-east, and set men and wolves to guard it. At first he professed fealty to the emperor, but soon many had cause to doubt his words, and suspected him of fomenting treason amongst the peoples of the north. Livestock started to disappear, and homes were ransacked; chaos reigned between the Meer and the Soar, and crops were burned day and night; Cannock of Fallow took his own life after succumbing to madness, and Lucius One-Eye was murdered by his own brother, and his realm fell into ruin. So it was that war between Yna and the emperor became inevitable; and a great army was assembled in the Fields of the Sentinel, twenty thousand men or more, that marched north to lay siege to the Fortress of Calmir and demand its surrender.
Seven long weeks the castle held out, and many men died in that time; but finally the food became foul, the well poisoned, and the inhabitants were all for surrendering.
But when the victorious troops of the emperor entered the gates in triumph, Azi was nowhere to be seen. No word was heard from him again. And soon afterward, the Witch appeared.
Some say she was his daughter; others, his pupil. But all agreed, as her shadow crept upon the northern lands - first as a rumour, then as a fear, and finally as a dark power without equal in the known world – that only an adept, someone schooled in the magic arts, could live for so long, and cause such horror and destruction; for as the years passed into decades and the decades into centuries, the Witch did not disappear, but instead grew in strength; and people said she did not age.
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