The Black Witch (Anasta Chronicles Book 2)

by Jenny McKane

  Skyresh gazed up at Aysus. “You blacked out from the pain,” he said, turning back to her. His blue eyes raked over her. “We were trying to stem the bleeding from your wound, and then Aysus and his band of performers came by and stopped. They took us to their camp.” He gestured around. “And here we are.”

  “How long have we been here?” She held her breath.

  “Two days.” He took a deep breath. “Aysus tended your wound. He is a healer, as well as a Storyteller.”

  Avalon glanced up at the old man. “Thank you,” she said. “I do not know how to repay you.”

  The old man smiled. “There is no debt,” he said slowly. “As Skyresh said, I am a healer. The Goddess commands me to do it; she gives me my power. Your wound was deep, Avalon. I had to stitch it and give you a plant that would let you sleep and heal.”

  Avalon shuddered. “What was that creature?” she whispered. She could still feel it on top of her. Its fangs in her shoulder, biting down.

  Aysus frowned. “It is one of the new ones,” he whispered. “We have seen a few of them on our journey. Strange creatures that seem to hold the very essence of evil. I think that the creature was stalking you. It waited for its moment, when you were at your weakest.”

  Avalon shuddered again. She turned back to Skyresh. “We have lost time,” she whispered. “We should get going.”

  “You can’t go anywhere—for now,” said Aysus. “You have just woken up, and you are still very weak. You would not last a day in the desert in your present state. We are happy to remain here until you are stronger and can continue your journey.”

  Skyresh nodded. “We should, Avalon,” he said. “I want to get going as much as you do, but you are not strong enough. Aysus and his people have food and water. We can all get stronger, as you recover.”

  “But…” She frowned. “We do not have time on our side.”

  “We can do nothing if we die in the desert,” he replied, stroking her hand. “You know in your heart that what I am saying is right.”

  She nodded slowly. Frustration tore through her, but when she went to stand up, dizziness overtook her. She wasn’t strong enough yet, and Skyresh and Everard had been weakened by the journey, as well.

  Everard. Where was he?

  “It’s alright,” said Skyresh, as if reading her mind. “Everard is safe and well. I can go and get him if you want. I am sure that he wants to see you, now that you are awake.”

  Aysus nodded. “I will go and get him,” he said. He walked out of the tent.

  Skyresh sat down next to her. He lowered his head. “Avalon, I have never felt so scared,” he whispered. “I thought that you would die. I just couldn’t bear the thought.”

  Avalon’s face softened. “I am alive, Skyresh,” she said. “And I will recover, do not worry. It will take more than the fangs of a wild creature to keep me from completing our mission.”

  He nodded, and then he frowned. “It is even harder than I thought it would be,” he said. “If it hadn’t been for Aysus and his people, you would have died. We are such a small group. We need more people.”

  Avalon frowned, as well. “What are you saying?”

  He took a deep breath. “Perhaps we could ask them to go with us,” he said. “They have a wagon. Aysus is a healer, and the others know how to use a sword. They have a lot of food and water. Tents.” He paused. “We would have a greater chance of getting to our destination.”

  Avalon gaped at him. “Skyresh, we do not know these people. Not really. Yes, they were kind enough to help us…but to trust them with details of our mission?” She shook her head. “My instinct says that we should not. Mother Oda was confident that the three of us could do it, and so we must.”

  “They are trustworthy,” Skyresh said slowly. “They are Stromel. Aysus is a Storyteller and a healer. They would be on our side, I am sure of it.”

  “Just because they are Stromel, it does not mean that they are warriors,” she said gently. “And we would be putting them at risk, as well. They are performers, not used to what we must do. Besides, I do not know them – not yet. The old man seems familiar though…”

  She frowned. Where did she know him from? She couldn’t shake the feeling that she had seen him somewhere.

  “Just promise me that you will think about it.” Skyresh fixed her with his vivid blue gaze. “We must stay with them—for now. You will get to know them, and then we can talk about it again. Do not dismiss it completely.”

  She nodded reluctantly. Her instincts told her that it wasn’t a good idea, but Skyresh was right. She could think about it as she recovered, and they all rested.

  The curtain parted. Everard stood there, staring at her.

  Skyresh stood up. “I will leave you both to it,” he said, not looking at Everard. “I will be outside if you need me.”

  He walked past Everard. The two men did not acknowledge each other.

  Avalon sighed. Nothing had changed between them, obviously.

  ***

  Avalon could see the group of people staring at her, as she made her way slowly to the camp fire. It was another fine night, and there was an inviting aroma coming from the pot that was swaying above the fire. Her stomach growled in anticipation.

  She had rested for the rest of that day. Aysus had brought her a thin broth in a bowl after Everard had left, imploring her to eat it.

  “I have put some healing herbs in it,” he stated, handing it to her. “They will aid your recovery.” He had smiled and left her to it.

  But that had been hours ago, and she was starving. She had probably been starving for days. They had been subsisting on berries. Her body was screaming for a proper meal.

  Skyresh jumped up and led her to a spot, helping her to sit down. He sat down beside her. She could see Everard smiling at her, on the opposite side of the fire. At least he looked more relaxed than he had been. That was something.

  “Welcome, Avalon,” said Aysus, smiling gently. “It is good that you have felt well enough to join us tonight. May I introduce everyone to you?”

  Avalon smiled. “Of course. I am keen to say thank you to everyone who has helped us.”

  He went around the group, saying their names. Avalon nodded and smiled. There were two women and three other men.

  “We are pleased that you are feeling better,” said one woman called Gitte. She handed Avalon a bowl of the food that had been cooking over the fire. “Please, eat. It is a stew, an old recipe from my region in Agnoria.”

  Avalon took the bowl, thanking the woman. The stew was hot and almost burned her mouth as she ate it, but it was also delicious and filled with vegetables and herbs in a thick gravy. Avalon closed her eyes, savoring each mouthful.

  “Your shoulder feels better?” asked one man, whose name she remembered was Knud.

  “Much better, thank you,” she said, smiling.

  “That was a fierce creature that attacked you,” said another man, his eyes widening. “I have never seen anything like it in all my days. You are lucky that your companions managed to kill it.”

  Avalon nodded. “I am very lucky, I know. And lucky that you all stumbled across us and were able to help.”

  Skyresh grinned between mouthfuls of stew. “You did well yourself, Avalon. You managed to get a dagger into its side.”

  Avalon smiled. “So I did. I had forgotten about that. Still, I imagine it would have done very little. The creature’s hide was so tough, and it was so large.” She shuddered at the memory.

  “I cannot wait to get out of here,” the other woman, Hellja, said. “The Outlying Zone always makes me nervous, but even more so now with these new wild creatures roaming the plains.”

  “Have you seen many?” asked Everard.

  The woman nodded. “A few. I saw a strange creature that slithered on its belly.”

  “But that would be a snake surely?” asked Skyresh. “I have seen them before.”

  The woman’s eyes widened. “I have seen snakes, but nothing like this
,” she whispered. “Its head was as large as a child, and its body as thin as a stick. The head could barely manage to stay upright. It was frightening.” She shuddered.

  “I have seen a huge winged creature,” another man, Joonas, said. He stared into the sky, as if remembering. “It was larger than any bird I have ever seen, and it breathed fire.”

  Everard stared at him. “It breathed fire? Are you sure?”

  The man nodded. “I saw it, with my own eyes. A huge plume of it, filling the sky.”

  “What are they?” Gitte asked, staring around. “Does anyone know?”

  “They seem to have been created by magic,” said Skyresh slowly. “But for what purpose, I cannot say.”

  Avalon stared at him. He was not revealing everything that they knew, and she was grateful for that. Even though these people seemed kind and helpful, they did not know them well enough to tell them everything, especially not the reasons behind their journey.

  “You are heading to the Interior?” Knud asked. “I seem to remember Everard mentioning it yesterday. Why do you go there?”

  Avalon stared at Everard, hard. Why did he tell them that? But, there was nothing for it now.

  “My father works there,” Avalon said, thinking quickly. “He has been posted there for a while now. Usually he comes to see me, in Agnoria, but this time I decided to come and see him. My friends decided to accompany me for protection.”

  “So, the Jarle are aware of your journey?” Hellja gazed at her, not blinking.

  “Yes,” said Skyresh, smiling. “Of course! We are expected.”

  Joonas looked at Avalon. “What does your father do? Are you Jarle?”

  Avalon took a deep breath and shook her head. “No. He is a cook. He has been stationed out here for a few years now. My family misses him so much.”

  The group nodded. The women stared at her, their eyes filled with sympathy.

  “That would be hard,” said Gitte. “They do not think of things like that when they take people away from their families.”

  Avalon nodded and bent her head, taking another spoonful of stew. When she raised her head again, Aysus was staring straight at her. She could tell that he didn’t believe a word that she had just said.

  Chapter Eight

  The drums sounded low and rhythmic, a hypnotic beat that reverberated through the night. Sparks flew into the air from the fire, and then they cascaded down like luminous raindrops. Avalon tightened her cloak around her, watching.

  Suddenly, a woman stepped out. She was dressed in a long, flowing gown of red with a gold sash around her waist. She wore a headpiece of twisted gold, which hung low on her forehead. She raised her hands high into the air, her head falling back.

  “Goddess of Light,” she cried. “Show us the path. They are coming; I feel them thundering towards us.”

  Avalon glanced at Skyresh, sitting next to her. His face was rivetted, watching the woman. She could feel the tension within him.

  Another woman stepped out, approaching the first. She was dressed in a brown tunic and leggings. Her face was painted with blue, swirling patterns. She carried a sword. She knelt in front of the first woman, placing her sword in front of her. She bowed her head.

  “Oh, Mother,” she cried. “You must show us the way. The dark army is coming. They have destroyed the temples, and they ransack the villages.”

  The woman in red rested her hand upon the head of the second woman. “You are a queen,” she said. “You must lead the warriors in the fight against the dark army, or else all will be lost.”

  Avalon felt her skin prickling, as she watched. This was an imagined enactment of her own mother, going out to save Masgata on that fateful day. She just knew it. Skyresh knew it, too. Without turning his head to look at her, he reached over and took her hand, squeezing it tightly.

  Avalon noticed Everard, who was sitting on her other side, gazing at their joined hands. He frowned. She quickly withdrew her hand with an apologetic glance at Skyresh. He stared at her for a moment, and then he turned his head back to the performers.

  The drumming picked up in tempo. It seemed to fill her ears.

  “Yes, Mother,” said the woman in the brown tunic. “I will fight to the death to protect the realm. All the warriors will fight, you know that. But what of the magic? What spells can you weave to help us?”

  The woman in red sighed dramatically, turning away. “The spells do not work anymore,” she muttered. She looked to the sky, again. “Oh, Goddess, why have you deserted us in our hour of need? Why will you not guide us?”

  A man stepped out. He was dressed in a woman’s long robe of white silk. He wore a wig of long, golden hair. On top of it rested a headpiece of gold. Avalon smiled. It was Knud – she recognized his physique.

  The two women gasped, falling on their knees in front of him. He raised his hands to the sky.

  “My daughters,” he cried. “I have not left you. I am here, watching over you. The path is long and harrowing. It is littered with pot holes, and it may seem that you will never find its end.”

  The woman in the brown tunic gasped. “Goddess, tell us that we shall overcome.”

  The performer smiled. “The dark is upon us,” he whispered. “It fills the very air. You must fight, even in defeat. It shall not be the end, my children.”

  Avalon heard Everard scoff quietly. She turned and watched his face. He was staring at the performance, wearing a quizzical expression. It seemed that he was not enjoying the show.

  She felt eyes on her and turned her head slightly. Aysus, the Storyteller, who was watching the show as well, was staring at her. His eyes seemed to bore into her own, almost entreating her. She felt the pull of some strange energy. He was trying to draw her in. She felt his mind probing her own; it would be so very easy to give in…

  She shook her head. The connection snapped suddenly. She turned her head back to the performers.

  Suddenly, a man dressed in black entered. He had a dark mask over his face. He crept up behind the Goddess and felled her to the ground, where she lay still. The women cried out.

  “See now, warriors of Masgata,” the man cried. “You are defeated. Your Goddess is slain. The dark army is victorious. Pledge your allegiance to us.”

  “Never,” cried the woman in red. She grabbed a dagger, plunging it into her chest. She flailed, dramatically, before falling onto the ground.

  The woman in the brown tunic raised her sword. “I tell you this, guardian of the dark. You will never defeat us. Even though we die today, we shall rise again. The Goddess shall rule this realm once more.”

  She fell on her sword, falling dramatically to the ground. The drumming stopped suddenly.

  Everyone clapped. The performers got to their feet and joined hands in a row, bowing. Then they turned and walked away, back to their tent.

  “What nonsense,” said Everard. “And dangerous nonsense at that.”

  Avalon stared at him. “Why do you say that, Everard? It is only a play, after all.”

  Everard’s eyes flashed. “It teaches that the Jarle will be defeated one day. That despite what happened, it will turn around.” He laughed harshly. “It gives them false hope.”

  “Why can’t they have hope?” Avalon asked gently. “Hope is what gives people a reason to live.”

  He shook his head and stood up. “I’m going to bed. I have had enough of this.” He walked away into the night.

  She stood up to follow him, but Skyresh reached out a hand, stopping her. “Let him go,” he said. “I know you are upset, but I think that his strong reaction is a good thing. It shows he is thinking deeply about it. He acts defensively, but it is preying on his mind.”

  Avalon sighed, then sat back down slowly.

  The performers came out of the tent. They had changed and were now wearing their normal clothes. They sat in the circle, smiling.

  “Well done,” said Avalon, smiling back at them. “You are all very talented. I can see why you are in high demand, travellin
g everywhere.”

  Their smiles widened in gratitude.

  Knud, who had played the Goddess, stared into the fire. “We have to be very careful, performing that play,” he said, glancing at Avalon. “The Jarle forbid any performance of Stromel folk lore. We have to choose our audience carefully.”

  “What are the penalties if they discover it?” Avalon held her breath, waiting for the answer.

  They all looked at each other fearfully.

  “Death,” announced Aysus. “It is considered treason.” He picked up a log, throwing it into the fire. Sparks flew into the air.

  They were all silent for a moment, contemplating this.

  “You do a great service,” said Skyresh quietly. “Without plays such as this, the Stromel would not remember who they are. We would not remember who we are.”

  Aysus nodded. “That is why we take the risk,” he said. “We have taken a great risk, performing it for you all, but I sense that you are all sympathetic to the cause.”

  Skyresh nodded. He was about to say more, but Avalon stopped him with a hand on his arm and a slight shake of her head. He stared at her.

  “We wish you well,” she said carefully. “We cannot afford to be overly supportive, of course. We must live within the boundaries set for us, as well.”

  Aysus stared at her. “I have a feeling about you, Avalon,” he said slowly. “I do not know why, but I sense that you are special in some way.”

  Avalon smiled at him. “That is nice of you to say, Aysus,” she replied. “But I am just a regular person. We are all just regular people. We wish you well with your endeavors though.” She stood up. “I am afraid that I am very tired. I should get some rest.”

  Aysus nodded. “Your shoulder is starting to hurt again, I can tell. I will give you a draught to help settle you for the night.” He stood up, as well. “Come with me.”

  Avalon stared at him for a moment then turned to the others. “Thank you again for such wonderful entertainment. Good night.”

  She followed Aysus into the tent.

  He walked to a table and picked up a glass. Then, he took a bottle and poured a measure into the glass. He turned and offered it to her. “Please. It will help you sleep.”