We had reached a point in the path where it started to slope downward a little, along the ridge, our feet running away with us, when the first arrow screamed so close it made my ears ring. I was already throwing myself to the ground when I saw Thomas shout “Down!”, though the word itself was lost to my hearing, and I just had time to see him draw his sword, and swing it neatly through the air, before I fell unconscious.
It was only for a few seconds, but when I raised my face from the rocky ground I realized it was cut, and there was blood in my mouth. The sight in my right eye seemed a little blurry, too, but this soon passed, and I was more concerned by what I could see out of my left: for Thomas was fighting off at least five men, and they were coming at him with stones, and knives, and axes.
I sat up quickly, too quickly, for the blood sang in my head; but it was fortunate I did not stand up just then, for had I done so, I would no doubt have been pierced to the quick by the arrows which streaked above. Instead, I merely gazed stupidly at the air where they had been, and then forward, at Thomas, as he fought his attackers.
He was about thirty yards away, and he and they were moving very quickly. The men, if men they were, were dressed roughly, but in warm jerkins and tunics, to guard against the cold. I supposed, also, that they might be less weary than Thomas: on a good day, I knew, he could take on many men and survive; but this was not a good day, and I feared for him, and for me.
Nevertheless, one of the men seemed to have fallen already, and another had stepped away from the others, clutching his side. The sounds of the battle seemed incongruous in that peaceful place, as if it were all a dream; but my heart sounded its alarm in my chest, and shook my ribs.
Another man fell, with a cry, and I began to hope that Thomas could win through, and we would survive this day at least, when two more men came running through the trees. They ignored Thomas, and the others. They were heading straight for me.
I pushed myself up, but fell back several times, scrabbling on the ground like a cripple, desperate to stand. The men came on, shortening the distance between us with great, powerful strides. I saw now that Thomas had noticed them, for he turned; but as he did so, one of his attackers caught him a fierce blow across the face, and he fell back.
I ran.
I ran in a wide arc, weaving through the trees, away from the path, and back towards Thomas; I did not know why, but I felt it would be folly to run away. If only I could get close to him, then he could protect himself and me.
I was quick, adrenaline-drunk, and, though weary, skipped nimbly over the earth; the ground barely anchored my feet. I could see Thomas getting closer, glimpsing him and the other men as I ran, hearing them shout and scream at each other. Another man fell; there was a sickening crunch, and I saw his head was at an unnatural angle to his body, and I knew he was dead. I kept going. Forty yards, thirty. I had made a mistake, straying off the path; I’d thought I would lose my pursuers, but there were two of them, and they were strong and fast. They cut me off, scooping me up when I was almost within touching distance of Thomas’s coat. I writhed like a snake, and bit like one too.
I got a smart slap for that, and saw that one of the men was carrying me under his arm, like so much baggage. I wanted to scream, but my lungs were out of fuel. My ribs hurt. I watched, like the vole, who, caught by the kestrel, knows that the struggle is now in vain, and is mesmerized by his own death. So I watched, as Thomas Taper took his sword to the belly of a man whose entrails slid from his body like snakes; I watched, as he pulled a knife from his belt, and sent it slicing through the air, to pin one of the men who had caught me to a tree - by his throat; I watched as he pulled it free, and the man crumpled to the ground, his blood, and his life, shooting out in all directions; and I watched as the man who was carrying me, who seemed hardly smaller than a horse, turned briefly to hurl a stone the size of a baby at Thomas, which hit the guardsman a wallop to the temple that span him round, and made him collapse and roll down the hill, till his body hit a rock, and he moved no more. I saw all this. And then I saw nothing.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN
“Whisper it. Whisper my name.”
The cold. The earth beneath my back. The cold.
“Whisper it. Go on. It’s all you have to do. I’ll help you. Wh…”
My eyelids snapped open, then shut, then open again.
“Whisper it.”
I closed my eyes.
I was falling away from the world, enjoying the feeling of my body floating in space, weightless, free; there was a speckled light before my eyes, and a rough hand at my back, supporting me. The ground lifted away, and let my feet roam free in the wide sky.
“Whisper it.”
“No.”
“Whisper it!”
“No!”
The voice – it seemed to be a voice, a human voice – sighed with impatience.
“Whisper it…”
“No.”
Whatever it was I was supposed to whisper, I knew I mustn’t: somehow I knew I must not utter it. The earth spun. The sky wobbled and went dull. The speckled light shook in my eyes. And I was awake.
I was lying on the ground. I was not at first sure where or who I was, but as my mind collected itself I felt a surge of quiet joy go through me; I felt clean, covered in fresh linen, and my hair no longer stank. Someone had washed me, bathed me, put me in new clothes. I listened to the sound of my chest, rising, falling, with the pattern of my breath. I rolled my eyes around in my sockets, and stretched the muscles of my face. I waggled my toes. Then, despite myself, I giggled. I was safe and dry at least.
“You’re awake.”
Again, the voice, and it made me start, though I should have been expecting it: it was a light voice, soft, but rich also, and, though friendly, full of sorrow. I stopped giggling. I looked up at the - roof, was it? – above my head. There was sunlight bleeding through it. Speckled light. It seemed to be canvas, or something of the kind. I was in a tent.
“You should eat something,” said the woman. So it was a woman; a young woman by the sounds of it. I was too tired to lift my head. A woman. My memory shook like a tin box. What was it about a woman I had to fear…?
I felt long hair brush against my cheek, and an arm cradle my head, propping me up.
“Drink this,” said the woman, and I did, and it tasted good. Then she lay me back down, and disappeared again; and once more, sleep took me.
When I next awoke, it was night, and I pushed myself up on my elbow and looked at my surroundings.
I was indeed in a tent, with a high roof and sides which rippled in the night breeze. I saw the dark outside, well illumined by a fat, lazy moon. About and beneath me lay a rich, patterned carpet, though I could still feel the hard earth under my back. I struggled to sit up.
With some effort, for my limbs felt lifeless as stone, I climbed out of the bed where I had lain. I felt around for my clothes, but they were gone. I was dressed in a shift, and my body shivered in the cold.
I crept towards the opening of the tent.
Around me lay a broad plain of grassland, with hills on either side, and a soft rumour of dawn to the east. The world was still, and bathed in blue, and everything seemed at peace. But still I couldn’t resist a feeling that tugged at my heart, like an impatient child, that all was not right. And then I felt the wind come rushing at me, like an enemy, and a voice very close to my ear say:
“Esther…!”
I woke up again, and it was day. I had no idea how long I had been asleep, lying there in the tent. I had forgotten my name, I had forgotten my birthday; I knew only the here and now, and nothing else mattered.
And then I saw the woman’s face.
It was very close to mine, her dark brown hair like spring leaves, and her eyes a full green, old like the mosses of the forest, and deep as the cellars of the sea. She smiled.
“You’ve been asleep a long time, Esther Lanark. Welcome to my home. My name is Erith, daughter of Bard and Leah of the Sweet Moun
tain, last of the Magi of the Old Kingdoms, friend of the beasts and the birds that swim in the air. But you are more likely to know me as the Witch of Glenaster.”
And I gave a start, and a tear shot like a pulse from my eyes.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-EIGHT
We stared at each other for a good while then, and I got a good look at the Witch of Glenaster.
She certainly looked young: hardly more than thirty, it seemed, and fair of face, though her brow was lined with care. Her skin was as rich and dark as treacle, and when she smiled, her face became lit, as if from within, by a radiance that was an echo of the sun itself. I looked at her and was no longer afraid; I looked at her and realized I loved her. How could I have wanted this woman’s death? She wished me nothing but love. I was full of joy, and I laughed. She laughed too.
“I’m glad to see you happy,” she said, and sat down on the bed. Behind my head she had placed a pile of soft pillows, and I sat up against them, and looked at her. The winter sun blazed through the walls and roof of the tent, and somehow it seemed much warmer than it ought to have been. I looked at the Witch of Glenaster, and I went on looking.
“You came here to kill me, Esther,” she said, and I felt a cruel shame at the thought. Yes, I had come to kill her: why was that? What madness could have made me think of such a thing? “Perhaps you still want to…?” I shook my head firmly: no. My cheeks prickled with embarrassment. The Witch laughed. “You would not be the first. Many others have tried. They hate me because they fear me. And they fear me because they do not know me. Many have died because of this fear. Do you understand, Esther?” I nodded. Of course. Of course I understood. “Good. Then you should know why it is that I came here, and why so many men seek to make war against me.” Her voice was heavy, full of the sadness of the ages. She caressed my cheek, and told me her story.
“Many years ago – beyond the count of any living now – my people lived in Sanctus, in the Far East, where now the Lord Pike holds the land in fief for the emperor. Do you know the place? It was very marshy then, before they drained the land, and made up of small islands, separated by channels only a boatman who knew them well could navigate without getting lost. So we were safe from our foes, and could protect our friends, if there was need. It was like this for many centuries. But then, when the emperors first came to Ampar, and one by one the Old Kingdoms were overthrown or surrendered, our kings would not do homage to the new rulers in the west, and refused to give over their throne. This made the emperor angry, and he declared war; and because we were a proud people, we met his challenge, and there was much blood spilled over the years that followed: but we did not yield. And, surrounded by wood and marsh, we felt ourselves well protected. But no hiding place is safe forever.
One of our own, a young man called Broom, who had been unlucky in love and was full of hatred and bitterness, went to the emperor’s camp, on the other side of the marshes, and offered to show him the safe way across. And so we were betrayed: our villages were burned, and our livestock slaughtered; our women raped, and even young children put to the sword. The waters around our home grew foetid with blood.
Now my parents had built our home on a tor overlooking the marshlands, that our people called the Sweet Mountain, though it is hardly more than a hill; and when they saw the emperor’s armies coming from afar, they put me in a boat, young as I was, younger than you are now, and set me adrift on the river, towards the sea. I could not understand what they were doing, and I shouted curses at them from my little boat, for leaving me to my fate; and my mother’s face creased with her tears as she and my father faded into the trees, and I saw them no more.
I was in that boat for seven days and nights, with little in the way of provisions, and barely enough water; and by the time I reached the sea I was weeping sorely for grief, for I knew my parents must be dead, and they had saved my life, and I had parted with them on bad terms. I drifted up the eastern shore, and would have died had not a friendly wind blown me into a sheltered harbour, just south of Calmir. I crawled out of the boat, and collapsed on the sand.
I rested that night in a cave on the beach, listening to the sea’s roar; and I must have looked a sight then, for my hair was all tangled and drenched in saltwater, and my dress was torn and ruined. I suppose I wanted to die. But I did not. I awoke, and I started walking; I walked and I walked, heading ever northward, through the heathland and moors of Calmir; I sheltered in stables and ruined cottages, I ate berries and roots; until finally I came to the great fortress of Azi, greatest of the great magicians of the old world…”
She paused for a moment, and fixed me with her eye. Then she continued:
“I knocked on the great door, as many times as I dared; but they would not let me in. Then I tried the other gatehouses and doors; but still no answer. I was on the point of despairing, and going about my way, when an old laundrywoman took pity on me, and let me in through a servants’ entrance; and so I began a new life. The laundrywoman and some of the other servants washed me, and fed me, and gave me new clothes; and they took me on to work in the kitchens; and the hours were long, and I was often weary, but I was warm, and dry, and I had shelter and food. And so I grew to womanhood, and found that I was beautiful; and this was not something that went unnoticed by the men there.
One day, as I was fetching water from the well in one of the courtyards, I saw a man watching me, as he leaned against a doorway; and I blushed, for I was not used to being stared at in such a way. He asked me my name, and when I told him, he told me it was a pretty name, and asked if I would walk with him back to the tower keep, where he was billeted. I tried to demur, but he was quite insistent, and had such a courteous manner, arranging for one of the other servants to carry my water for me, so that I took him to be somebody of great importance; and he had such smooth skin, and such long fingers, that I was curious to go with him, and hear more about him.
He told me he had sailed from the lands of the south, far beyond the Pale of the emperor, to seek Azi, for he had heard he was a man of great wisdom, and he wished to learn from him. I cared little for Azi; I only wanted to spend more time with this man, who had come from so far away to seek out knowledge in our lands. But he told me little of who he was, only that he had once been a great leader, a great prince of men, in his own country, but was exiled because of his beliefs. ‘For some fear the power of Nature; but I do not fear it, but think it should be embraced by all.’ And I did not know what he meant; I simply enjoyed hearing him speak. He kept asking about me, and where I was from, and what I was doing there; and I tried in my own way to answer him; but I felt ashamed and embarrassed, and thought my own adventures a meagre thing compared to his. But he was always curious, and would laugh at my funny stories, and nod gravely when he heard of what had happened to my family. ‘You and I are not so very different, Erith,’ he said; ‘we have both been done a great injustice by the emperor, and I think it is a grievous thing that someone so young and beautiful as you are should have suffered so much misfortune.’ And I was moved.
And so, over time, we fell in love; and I learned that his name was Lavant, and that he had come from the Forgotten Lands, away to the southeast; and he made me rich promises, that one day he would return with me to his home, and that I would live with him in a high castle overlooking the Blade, the great river that cuts through the valleys and hills of that country. And we walked together under the eaves of the orchard, and in the great herb gardens of Calmir, and talked lovers’ talk in the evening sunshine.
Then word came from the south, that the emperor was planning a war on Calmir, and on all in the service of Azi; and I could not understand why, for it seemed to me that I had found happiness and new life within those walls, and I could not see how anyone would wish to raze them. And Lavant said that the emperor was jealous of Azi, and feared his power, and so wanted to rid himself of him.
At first all we heard were rumours; but then came messages, increasingly urgent, of the great army that was marching from
the south to attack us. And Azi called for volunteers, to form a scouting party, and my love was one of the first who promised to go. And I begged him not to.
But there was no dissuading him. And on a morning when the wind was high in the east, and the air a cold chill against the skin, five of them set out, Lavant and four others, and I watched until they were out of sight, taking the southward road through the mountains.
Nearly a week passed. I was almost delirious with worry; I could not eat, nor sleep, nor apply myself to my work; and the housekeeper, knowing that the man I loved was with the scouting party, took pity on me, and made sure I was given only the easiest tasks to do.
It was a grey Sunday morning when we first heard news.
A single rider came galloping to the gate, half-demented with fear, crying that the forces of hell were behind him, and demanding to be allowed entry. When the guardsmen interrogated him, they saw that he was a servant of Azi, a man named Caleb Sorrow, who had been out on other errands when the scouting party had departed. ‘They have taken them prisoner,’ was all he would say, and then he wept like a child, and was dead within two days.
We knew soon enough what he had been running from.
Two days later, the lookouts saw, far off, a great host moving through the mountains, and their helms and banners were those of the emperor’s men. And as they moved closer, the sky seemed to darken, and we heard their noise, of shouting, and roaring, and I have never heard such a sound, before or since. And when they came to the gates of the fortress, they held aloft their trophies: the great wolves of Calmir, that they had slaughtered cruelly on their stakes; but also, much worse, the heads of men, borne high above them, bloody and terrible. And they set them in the ground before the castle, and retreated out of sight.
The Witch of Glenaster Page 23
