Shadow Witch: Horror of the Dark Forest

by J. Thorn

  The walls swallowed her voice whole. The shadow of the forest spilled out at her from the edges of the clearing. The stars winked and flickered. Jasmine imagined the stars and moon going black, leaving her alone in the darkness, like being shut within a windowless cellar and having the door locked.

  She walked to within several paces of the house and as it became plain to her the front held no windows or doors, she knew if she circled the structure she would find none behind either. Maybe she was looking at a tomb.

  But Sarra—

  Jasmine wondered if it was Sarra she followed through the woods. She thought she recognized her sister’s clothing and her fair hair in the faint glow of light in the forest. And if it hadn’t been Sarra, who else would be running through the trees in the middle of the night?

  “Please, Sarra. I’m scared.”

  A solitary cloud drifted across the moon, altering the quality of the light in the clearing. In the transient shadow, the stones changed. Jasmine thought she saw faces, human faces in the stone.

  Just a trick of the light, she thought.

  The temporary shroud drifted away and now the moon shone bright again, though it seemed less like an old friend than a screaming face following her from above.

  “Please. Someone. I’m lost and I can’t find my sister. Please help me.”

  The wind rustled the bordering trees and the limbs made sounds like old bones creaking and coming back to life.

  “Why won’t anyone answer me?”

  The angle of the moonbeam changed and Jasmine’s breath caught in her throat. Her eyes widened until the lids could stretch no more. The walls, which moments ago appeared as smooth stones, revealed themselves as human bones.

  She opened her mouth to scream but only a high-pitched whisper escaped her lungs. Skulls stared back at her with hollow, blackened eye sockets, death wails frozen on the faces. She blinked her eyes once, twice, three times, wishing the next blink would restore the scene and she would see the walls as they really were—stone. But the walls consisted of bones, hundreds, maybe thousands of them crushed together into a nightmarish fortification. She could almost hear the skulls screaming in her mind, and then she realized she was screaming.

  From within the walls came a sound, a scratching like skeletal hands trying to claw themselves free of the grave. Jasmine backed away, her hands clutching at the shredded remains of her skirts. Her fingers gripped the torn fabric as though the clothing was all that remained of her sanity and she was never going to let go.

  As she stepped backward, something changed within the skeletal walls. The bones rattled and clicked together.

  My God, the house is alive.

  Light broke through the front walls, dim at first and amplifying into a blinding white fire enveloping the front of the house. She shielded her eyes.

  A shadow grew within the light. As the silhouette took the form of a woman, Jasmine backed up more quickly, tripping over loose rocks. She wanted to turn and run in the opposite direction, but she could not take her eyes off of the shadow that grew until it towered three heads higher than her.

  The figure stepped forward from the fiery light.

  “No,” Jasmine said.

  Cat’s eyes burned through the darkness of the woman’s hooded cloak and fixed on Jasmine. The wind rushed into the clearing and raced toward the woman as though filling a void. The woman straightened further, continuing to grow before Jasmine’s eyes. Her cloak billowed black in the wind.

  “It cannot be,” Jasmine said. Her lips continued to move after uttering the words.

  “You’ve come a long way from your village, my child,” the woman said. “Perhaps you may finally dance with the one you love on this night?”

  Jasmine stared at the old woman from the Droman Meadows festival last spring, the woman who scared her into her father’s arms. The old crone stood before Jasmine in the forest clearing.

  Where is father now? Why won’t anyone help me?

  Jasmine could not see inside the hood, but she felt the old woman’s smile. It carried all of the wickedness of the world, bleeding out toward Jasmine.

  “You have no reason to fear me, dear.”

  The shadow fell over Jasmine and the night became frigid. “Now, if we may finish what we started last spring? It won’t take but a moment and then you will be safe from all of the dangers that hunt you through the night. Give to me your hand, child, and speak your name.”

  The woman’s cloak ruffled in the wind and, as one long arm extended out of the concealing fabric toward Jasmine, the girl averted her eyes.

  “Please. Please. I want to go home. I want to find my father.”

  “Don’t cry, my dear.”

  The woman loomed closer with a warm, syrupy tone. “After tonight, you may return to your home. You may go anywhere in the world your little heart so desires. But first, you must tell me your name so I know who I am conversing with. Wouldn’t it be rude not to share your name with an old woman?”

  Tears burned rivers through the gray smear that was Jasmine’s face. “I just want to see my father. I want to be with my daddy.”

  The woman tsked and in the echo of the clearing she sounded like a rattlesnake. “I want to see your father, too, child. He is a great man with the potential to be so much more. But he is not an easy man to find, is he? I could help you find him. I know this forest well. All of its dangers, all of its secrets. We can find him together and you will be forever safe with your father.”

  “But my sisters and my mother. I must find them as well.”

  “And you will. I will bring you to them. Of that you have my word. After this night, your family will be reunited and shown safely out of the forest. They will have you to thank, my dear. You are to be the hero of this story—the one who saved her lost family. Your name will forever be remembered in tale and song. And the next time a village dances, they will dance for you.”

  Jasmine stopped in the clearing. Her reddened eyes fought back more tears. “Why would anyone think I am a hero? I’m not brave. I’m not even the prettiest of my sisters.”

  The old woman closed to within a few steps of Jasmine, standing over her. Her shadow consumed the young girl. “Beauty is both within and without, my child. You have more beauty within than all three of your sisters combined. That inner beauty will shine through as soon as you believe it exists. I can show it to you if you will only take my hand.”

  Jasmine felt the woman’s shadow suffocating her like the heavy smoke of a blocked chimney. She wanted to turn and run for the forest edge, to somehow find a way back to the clearing.

  Where is Sarra?

  The woman was so close now she felt her breath on her face. If Jasmine turned to run, she would be snatched off the ground like a twig in a windstorm. Her body trembled. She tried to swallow and found her mouth was as dry as the dead leaves covering the forest floor.

  Jasmine extended her hand to the darkness gathered before her, sobbing and turning her head away so she would not see the hand gripping hers.

  The forest fell silent and for a moment, her hand shook in the night as the wind played between her fingers. She shut her eyes, clamping the lids to wall away the forest.

  She felt a cold hand clutch hers and the wind shrieked through the treetops. She felt herself moving, walking forward into the woman’s grasp, along with a chill so deep it stung worse than falling through ice on a frozen pond. She opened her eyes to utter blackness. The trees and house disappeared, the moon and stars extinguished. There was no clearing. Only the cold darkness of an eternal void.

  “Now, my dear,” the old woman said. “Tell me your name.”

  Jasmine spoke her name and the night swallowed her screams.

  III

  Chapter 23

  Thom’s eyes shot open. He knew he was dreaming but he couldn’t remember. He thought he heard Jasmine screaming his name. Silence gripped the forest and as he leaned his head back against the thick trunk of a tree, Thom saw Kira and Delia still a
sleep by his side.

  It was a dream.

  The encampment lay bathed in the murk of night. The darkness seemed fleeting, as though a hidden hand lifted a veil from the woods.

  He saw the boulder out of the corner of his eye. He avoided looking in its direction, not wanting to see the glowing writing any more than he would want to watch a guillotine execution. The first gray of morning broke on the horizon and through the dense woods dawn appeared in isolated splotches of brightness between tree trunks and bushes.

  Thom pushed off the forest floor with a groan. He felt the deep soreness from multiple days’ travel gripping every muscle in his body. His eyes fixed on the tall trees across from the shelter. He shuddered, remembering the shadow of the woman who walked among the trees. He remembered the way her voice seemed to come from everywhere at once. He recalled soaring, and then falling through a sea of white.

  A rustle of branches grabbed his attention deep within the night that still held domain over the approaching dawn.

  Thom pulled the sword from the sheath. It slid free with a metallic scrape. He watched the trees north and west where he thought he heard rustling. The woods melted away into a black murk and Thom thought anything could be advancing on them from the shadows. He would not see an attack until it was too late. He swiveled his head back to his wife and daughter, still sleeping.

  He turned back to the woods, squinting harder and trying to penetrate the darkness. He saw nothing but the never ending woodlands. No hidden enemies. No sign of wildlife. Still no sign of anything living within—

  Movement.

  The shadows shifted a hundred paces up the incline, so subtle he hadn’t been sure his eyes saw anything. But as he stared at a border of low bushes at the edge of his vision, he saw the shadow move again. Even from this distance Thom knew it was large.

  Dread wolf.

  Despite their size and ferocious nature, the beasts could be silent and nimble like normal wolves. The thought of the beasts discovering him in the dark while his wife and daughter slept sent shivers across his neck where his muscles tightened. He imagined the beast’s howl, which would be answered by more howls, rising up in a circle around their camp. The monsters would come for them all, bursting out of the trees with fangs snapping and claws tearing.

  But has the beast seen me?

  Thom faded deeper into the darkness clinging to the shelter’s trees. Holding the sword low so it would not catch the light, he crouched and scurried to the edge of the clearing. His eyes locked on the bushes at the top of the incline.

  He heard a snap. In the deafening silence of the forest, it sounded like an explosion. A burly shadow passed in front of the bushes, hurrying along a diagonal toward where Thom hid. The shape stayed within the darkness so Thom could not identify the intruder. The figure closed to within seventy paces, creeping from tree to tree and approaching Thom and his family.

  He turned back toward Kira and Delia who blended into the terrain as indistinct grays. They were too far away to rouse without giving himself away, but soon the sun would break through the trees and reveal them.

  Leaves rustled as something ducked under a low hanging bough. Thom lost track of the shadow and picked it up again, less than thirty paces away now and coming fast. He pressed his back against a thick ash, feeling the bark through his cloak as it dug into his spine. His chest rose and fell as he controlled his breathing. He knew he would have only one chance.

  The footfall upon soft pine needles and grass came from several paces away. His heart pounded through his chest. The attacker was so close, Thom was certain if he swung out from behind the tree, he would be staring into the beast’s eyes.

  It must see Kira and Delia. It’s coming for them, Thom thought.

  He brought the sword toward his ear, prepared to cut the monster down as it passed the ash.

  He listened, at first hearing only the rush of blood in his ears. And then breathing.

  He imagined the black beast, hatred burning through its eyes with fangs the size of a man’s fingers. Sharp talons would tear his wife and daughter apart. He wanted to scream at them, warn them and give them a chance to save themselves. But then he would give away his position and lose his only chance to defend them all.

  He heard the crunch of leaves from the other side of the ash, where the monster appeared to have paused.

  His head swam.

  One chance.

  Time stopped and he felt the air move as the beast lurched from behind the tree. Thom’s legs moved, carrying his body to block the monster’s path to his family. The sword felt feather-light in his hands, the wavering reflection of the moon’s face caught in the blade. Thom slashed with the sword at a downward arc, seeking flesh and crying for blood.

  The clang of metal on metal reverberated as if it were a bell meant to announce the coming of dawn. The swordsman parried Thom’s strike. Thom pulled the sword back and dropped the weapon down, preparing to thrust under the parry. The familiar voice stopped him like a war hammer to the chest.

  “Just a moment, lad. You don’t want to kill your old friend, now do ya?”

  Thom blinked twice to make sure he was not dreaming. He dropped the sword to the forest floor and embraced Rowan Sams.

  “Rowan? Is it really you?”

  “Aye lad, it is me. You’re a hard man to find, I’ll let you know.”

  “But I thought that you had— I thought you were—”

  “Dead? Perhaps by rights I should be. Woke up in the middle of the road, the bloody inn burned to the ground and a lot of people I knew catching flies. A lot of good people, Thom.”

  Thom eyed Rowan, wondering if the forest was playing another trick, an illusion sent to distract him from finding his daughters.

  “How did you find me?”

  “I dare say you found me this morning.”

  “But you couldn’t have known in which direction I headed when we left the village.”

  “After I woke up that night, I found tracks along the king’s road leading out of Droman Meadows. Figured you took the family and fled. That’s what I woulda done, I suspect. And you were dead set on making it to Mylan. Saw your tracks disappear into the meadow along the road and I couldn’t pick them up again. Smart man, staying off the road the way you did. But you should know I saw more tracks along the road. Following you.”

  “Dread wolves.”

  “Aye. And lots of the foul beasts.” Rowan said. “Boot marks and horse tracks, too.”

  “Dain Felcik.”

  “Dain? Why on earth would Dain Felcik be pursuing you?”

  “He’s gone over to the Shadow.”

  “The Shadow,” Rowan said. His brow furrowed and he nodded, conceding a truth he had to accept. “I s’pose if there is a cretin in Droman Meadows low enough to be in legion with an enemy of the kingdom, it is Dain Felcik. Though I wouldn’t have believed he had the stomach for it. If you saw what I found in Drake’s Pass—”

  “I was there,” Thom said. “I saw what Dain and the dread wolf did.”

  Rowan’s face turned ashen. “Dain was responsible? And you were there? Your family—”

  “Were hidden alongside me within the pass. We were not spotted, quite fortunately.”

  “But where are they now?”

  “Lost. Separated in this godforsaken forest. All except Kira and Delia, who are—”

  As if to finish Thom’s thought, Delia ran up the base of the incline and threw herself into Rowan’s arms.

  “Well, well, if it isn’t the fairest adventurer in all the land.”

  Delia laughed and hugged Rowan. “I knew it was you, Mr. Sams. How did you know we were here?”

  “I followed the smiling rays of sunshine, little one. That and a hint of tracks I’ve followed for the last day and a half, hoping they belonged to you. But I wasn’t sure until I saw your pretty face.”

  Kira appeared with the first golden burst of sunlight through the boughs, her widened eyes drifting between confusion and elation.<
br />
  “Rowan Sams? Is it really you? We thought—”

  “Yes, I know. Your husband made it quite clear what he suspected had befallen me, but I have a way of surprising people.”

  Thom and the women took Rowan back to their camp, the four chuckling and smiling as though the morning lifted a weight off their shoulders. For a moment, Thom was able to put the situation and the forest behind him, though whenever he tried to relax he remembered his missing daughters. Rowan produced a package of dried meats and two pieces of bread. He tore them into halves, dividing the bounty between them.

  As they ate, Thom and Rowan talked.

  “There’s something wrong with these woods, lad,” Rowan said. His gaze drifted along the overhead boughs lit in orange and red tones. “I can’t tell you how many miles I’ve walked without hearing so much as a bird flutter its wings. I don’t scare easy, but I don’t mind telling you this place makes me feel like I am walking through a graveyard.”

  Thom fiddled with a rock lodged in the ground, knowing what he had to ask but fearing Rowan’s answer.

  “Do you know your way back to the road?”

  Rowan averted his eyes, seeming more interested in the rock Thom dislodged from the soil than in answering the question. For a while he didn’t speak. “That’s the problem. I lost my bearings about an hour into the forest and when I tried to backtrack to the west, I found myself—”

  “Circling back to the same spot over and over?”

  Rowan gave Thom a hard look. His face softened and he stared at the soil between his boots again. “Aye.” He paused again, considering. “You know, the first few times it happened, I thought I was confused. It’s not easy to track the sun’s position through these trees. But at one point I realized I walked downhill for more than two hours and passed the same stream twice.”

  “A little brook cutting northwest?”

  “That be the same one. Not even possible, is it?”

  Thom watched Delia laugh with Kira, wondering how he would ever get his family back to the Mylan Road.

  “I have to find Sarra, Krea and Jasmine. They’ve been lost for more than two days. If I don’t find them soon…”