A Witch Alone

by James Nicol

  ‘It’s a friendship charm.’ Arianwyn smiled.

  ‘How very useful, I am sure,’ Miss Newam said quietly.

  ‘Actually it’s one of the very oldest charms there is. I saw the original recipe, carved in stone in the Hylund museum,’ Colin said quickly.

  Arianwyn was amazed he knew so much about charms. He noticed her looking and blushed.

  Virean took the charm in her hand and held it carefully. ‘Friendship is more important to feylings than magic and power, Miss Newam. Without our friends we are nothing but lost creatures wandering the world alone.’ She smiled at Arianwyn and bowed low once more before placing the charm around her neck. ‘Thank you.’

  Chupak too bowed as they passed, his black feathered arms spread wide as he almost touched the ground.

  Arianwyn, Colin and Miss Newam walked back through the feyling camp. The feylings watched them again, but this time a few hands were raised in farewell. Cooking fires were being extinguished – it seemed the feylings were also getting ready to move on. Before them the tangle of hedge was opening and they passed through, back into the wood once more. And as the hedge opening closed behind them it was as if the feylings had never been. Only the stone charm hanging around Arianwyn’s neck convinced her she hadn’t dreamt the whole thing.

  Following Chupak’s instructions, within an hour they had found the banks of the river, which was wide, calm and flat. Some way off it tumbled over huge rocks, and further downstream came the crashing sounds of a huge waterfall. The canopy of trees broke in the very centre of the flow and a wide band of blue split the green of the Great Wood. Even though it felt like days had passed since they’d set off, the sun was high in the sky and golden light shifted across the water. Fish darted beneath in silver flashes, while here and there dragonflies zipped across the surface.

  ‘It’s beautiful!’ Colin sighed. He dropped his pack on the bank and crouched to take in the view. ‘And if Chupak is right, we should be back home in just a few hours if we follow the river path north.’ He pointed to a narrow, trailing line on his map.

  ‘It’s the Tor river?’ Arianwyn asked, peering at the map. How had they come so far east? she wondered.

  ‘A shame we didn’t bring a boat!’ Miss Newam said, resting against a rock and taking a long drink from her water bottle.

  ‘Just ignore her,’ Colin mumbled.

  The river was so clear you could see every pebble and stone lining the riverbed. But something made Arianwyn feel uneasy. The far bank was hidden in shadow, the trees a thick screen. She lifted a small stone and tossed it across the river. It fell with a gentle ‘plop’, the ripples disturbing the water and setting the sunlight dancing in a thousand directions at once.

  ‘I might have a paddle!’ Colin said brightly. Pulling off his boots and socks, he rolled up his trousers and headed out into the water smiling. ‘Lovely and refreshing!’ he called.

  He’d only gone about halfway when a breeze moved across the surface of the river. It was warm and carried the scents of the wood on it, rich, earthy smells . . . and something else. ‘Colin—’ Arianwyn called, her nostrils filling with the stench of dark magic.

  But she choked on her warning and he didn’t hear her. The smell was overpowering and for a second she had to steady herself on the bank, feeling dizzy.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Miss Newam asked.

  ‘Hex,’ Arianwyn whispered, her mouth dry and rough. ‘More hex!’

  ‘Mr Twine!’ Miss Newam called urgently, her voice high and frightened.

  But Colin couldn’t hear her over the sloshing sound as he waded through the deeper part of the river, the water around his knees.

  Arianwyn didn’t wait another second; she skidded down the bank and started to run after him, stumbling and tripping over stones and rocks as she went. Once or twice she thought she might fall head first into the water, but each time she managed to right herself. Her trousers and boots were soon soaked through.

  As she drew nearer to Colin he turned, alerted by the disturbed water and the sound of Arianwyn rushing and sloshing towards him.

  ‘Colin! Stop!’ she shouted, just as he reached the far bank and the shadows of the trees. Though Arianwyn could see now that it wasn’t shadow at all; the trees along the edge of the river were swathed in thick layers of black hex.

  Colin had obviously spotted it now and stopped, his hand frozen as he had reached out for a black hex-covered branch where he was about to pull himself up. He turned and looked at Arianwyn, pale. ‘Thanks.’

  Arianwyn stood at his side, the water swirling about them both, taking in the sight of the ruined wood before her. The air was full of the cloying stench of dark magic and she could feel its tug on her. She felt tired and sad. ‘Come on, we’d best move away from here. It’s not safe,’ she said, moving back across the river to Miss Newam.

  Then suddenly from deep in the wood came a thunderous sound followed by an urgent animal call. A loud trumpeting cry filled the air. And then a herd of staggets surged through the trees and charged out across the river, sprays of water glinting in the sunshine, light glancing off their silver antlers.

  ‘WOW!’ Colin said, grabbing Arianwyn’s arm. ‘That’s amazing.’

  The staggets approached the far side of the river, sensed the hex, and came to a stop. They seemed agitated and frightened. They sniffed the air and looked back the way they had just come. Their eyes wide, they panted and moved anxiously about at the edge of the river.

  ‘They know it’s not safe to go on,’ Arianwyn said. She quickly pulled the spirit lantern from its case and held it to her eye. The staggets gave off a soft golden glow, unlike the hex-ravaged woods at the other side of the river, which emanated dark pulsating waves.

  There was a loud noise from something nearby, but hidden by the trees. The staggets circled around in the river, clearly unsure where to go.

  ‘Something else is coming,’ Miss Newam said, pointing back across to the trees.

  The call came again: a strangled, terrifying cry followed by a higher-pitched sound that was like a child’s shout mingled with a whistling noise.

  ‘What is that?’ Colin asked, looking at Arianwyn.

  ‘I have no idea,’ she replied, just as something small tumbled through the trees, falling with a splash into the river. A grey head broke the surface, skin as dark as stone, huge bright pink eyes wide in terror. The creature gasped in fear and panic.

  ‘What is it?’ Miss Newam called as she clambered up on to a rock.

  Arianwyn peered closer. ‘I think it’s another feyling,’ she said. Then she quickly pulled the spirit lantern up to her eye and focused it until she had the small creature framed. The view, as ever, was slightly fuzzy. But there it was, an aura of rainbow colours. ‘Don’t panic!’ Arianwyn shouted. ‘It’s a feyling all right.’ She started forwards carefully, not wanting to frighten the feyling who was scrabbling up the side of a large boulder, trying desperately to get out of the water.

  But Arianwyn had only gone a little way when the trees just behind the feyling burst apart and something charged forwards and into the river.

  It was a male stagget.

  Arianwyn felt her tensed muscles relax for a second.

  But only for a second.

  As the stagget charged from the shade of the trees to the light in the middle of the river Arianwyn saw that along one side of the creature’s body and muddled throughout its once magnificent silver antlers was a thick, snarled, tangle of hex.

  Chapter 19

  HELPLESS

  he infected stagget gave a low mournful cry and stalked closer to the defenceless feyling. Arianwyn took a few cautious steps closer. The feyling had stopped trying to climb the slippery boulder and was now staring at the stagget, frozen in terror. The rest of the stagget herd circled in the river, terrified and confused.

  ‘No!’ Arianwyn cried, moving forwards through the water.

  ‘Careful, Arianwyn!’ Colin called, reaching for her arm.

 
She shrugged him off. ‘Stay there!’ she warned.

  She moved ahead cautiously. The hex had scorched the stagget’s antlers, scarring its face and body. As she drew closer to the creature and the feyling, Arianwyn heard the stagget’s breathing, shallow and fast, and noticed how its eyes twisted, as if the stagget was struggling against itself. Arianwyn just needed to reach the feyling and . . . but it was too late: suddenly the stagget snorted in frustration and lowered its head, stamping its front feet in the shallow water. It was about to charge.

  ‘Look out!’ Arianwyn shouted to the feyling.

  The stagget gave a cry that was full of anger and pain and its eyes darkened, misting over as it charged, churning up the river water. But the feyling moved suddenly, leaping aside just in time: perhaps it had been planning this all along?

  The stagget crashed head first into the rock. Arianwyn had turned away, expecting to hear some sort of sickening crack as animal collided with solid stone – but instead there was a loud explosion. When she looked back, the rock had been blasted into a shower of dust and stone that rained down into the river as the stagget reared its head, completely unharmed. It’s so powerful! Unnaturally powerful . . . Arianwyn thought with a sickening feeling.

  The feyling cried out, and was suddenly racing along the river edge straight towards Miss Newam, who looked totally stunned at the turn of events. Arianwyn glanced back at the stagget, which was shaking its head. It called out – a terrifying, sickening scream – and turned round, its black eyes locked on the feyling and now on Miss Newam as well.

  Cold dread hit Arianwyn as the stagget charged again. ‘Run!’ she screamed, her voice echoing across the river.

  The grey feyling reached Miss Newam, grabbed for her hand, and together they ran along the shoreline as fast as they could. It was the most bizarre pairing Arianwyn thought she had ever seen. Miss Newam glanced back, her face pale as the stagget charged after them, the little grey feyling hurrying at her side.

  What do I do? Arianwyn thought, panic wiping her mind of any practical thoughts.

  She could see that Miss Newam and the feyling would soon run out of river, a smaller waterfall creating a dead end just ahead. The riverbank was crowded with large boulders, blocking the path back into the wood. They were cornered, closed in by stone on one side, waterfall behind and the hex-ravaged trees on the opposite bank.

  The stagget had slowed to a loping walk, realizing its prey was trapped.

  What? What can I do? She panicked as she ran, Colin now following close behind.

  ‘Arianwyn, help!’ Miss Newam shouted, her voice trembling and broken as the stagget drew nearer. It had stopped and now lowered its head, readying for a final charge. But it hesitated, appearing to struggle with itself. Its legs trembled and it collapsed slightly in the river, shaking its head as though it might be able to throw off the hex that scorched its antlers and body. Arianwyn only had moments to act.

  ‘I . . . I’ll have to stun it,’ she said, her voice shaking. She glanced at Colin.

  He grabbed her arm, his face pale. ‘Who – wait – that’s not allowed, Wyn, surely! Not a stagget!’ Colin said. He tried to drag her back. ‘Try something else – there has to be another way?’ His fingers gripped her arm tightly.

  ‘Miss Gribble!’ Miss Newam shouted insistently, her voice quivering. She and the feyling had edged back against the rocks. ‘Do something this instant!’ The little grey feyling shrank back behind her legs.

  Arianwyn’s mind raced. Colin was right: these great and gentle spirits were protected by all the laws of the C.W.A. and the Four Kingdoms. She glanced around frantically. She just needed to move the stagget away, that was all, give the feyling and Miss Newam a chance to escape from the river. Arianwyn crouched, her hands plunged into the water. ‘Ḁluna!’ she called, and even before she had finished summoning the glyph, she could feel the urgent racing of magic in the river around her. She just needed enough water to move the stagget away from Miss Newam and the feyling.

  But something was blocking her. She could feel the stream of strong, pure, magic deep under the water, nestled into the earth, but it was trapped.

  ‘Why isn’t anything happening?’ Colin cried.

  Arianwyn looked at the hex-ravaged trees and the infected stagget. The creature raised itself up again. The strange darkness flashed in its eyes as it pawed the riverbed, readying for the final charge.

  The hex was blocking her spell. And she had run out of time.

  She needed something stronger. More powerful. And she needed it fast.

  ‘Erṯe!’ Arianwyn cried.

  Summoning the earth glyph in the middle of the river was not the best idea, but it was stronger, simpler and less complicated than the water glyph. It was still a struggle, but this time she could feel the magic shift down in the earth. The magic moved agonizingly slowly but she didn’t need much to create a stunning spell. The stagget started to charge, but then stopped again, its head thrashing around in some sort of horrid, self-destructive struggle, striking nearby rocks which disintegrated as the first one had. Miss Newam screamed, and she and the feyling tried uselessly to scrabble up the wall of tumbled boulders.

  A green stunning orb formed in the air before Arianwyn – it was small, but she prayed it would be enough.

  ‘No, Wyn,’ Colin said. ‘It’s forbidden to stun a spirit creature. You can’t!’

  He was right, of course. ‘But it’s not a spirit creature any more,’ Arianwyn said, as certain of this as she had been of anything in her life. ‘It’s . . . something else, something dark. And Miss Newam and the feyling . . .’

  Could she really do it? Could she go against everything she had ever been taught and stun a spirit creature? She took one look at the struggling creature, at Miss Newam and the feyling, and knew that she could, that she would have to do it.

  ‘Hey – over here!’ Arianwyn shouted, kicking the water, trying to catch the stagget’s attention and draw it away.

  The stagget turned, its black eyes focusing on her. Lowering its head and hex-tangled antlers, it snorted and charged. Before she thought too much more about what was happening, Arianwyn sent the orb flying out across the river straight at the charging stagget.

  The orb hit the stagget full in the chest with an explosion of light. The creature slowed but didn’t stop. Arianwyn summoned another stunning orb and sent it after the first.

  ‘NO, Arianwyn. Enough. Stop!’ Colin grabbed her arm.

  This time the stagget stumbled forwards and crashed into the shallow waters with another mournful cry.

  Everyone froze.

  She wrenched her arm free from Colin and moved as quickly as she could towards the stagget. ‘What are you doing, Arianwyn? Let’s get Miss Newam and the feyling and go!’

  Arianwyn turned quickly and pushed Colin away. An idea had unfurled in her mind, a terrible and frightening idea that made her shake with fear. But she knew she had no choice now. ‘No. I can’t leave it like this, Colin. It’s cruel. It’s wrong.’

  ‘What’s going on now?’ Miss Newam shouted. She was still backed against the rocks of the small waterfall, clinging for dear life to the little grey feyling.

  Arianwyn didn’t reply. She moved towards the stagget that lay on its side, the water lapping around it. It snorted once or twice in frustration. ‘Easy now,’ Arianwyn soothed as she knelt in the water beside the once-magnificent creature.

  The stagget’s eyes had cleared again now; the strange blackness vanished. It tried to move but the two stunning spells had weakened it, and it only managed to shake its head a little. Carefully Arianwyn placed a hand on to the stagget’s neck, its fur slick with sweat, its pulse surging under her fingers, urgent and full of terror. ‘There now,’ Arianwyn soothed but the stagget lurched suddenly as it shifted its head, bringing its massive, silver, hex-ravaged antlers crashing against a nearby rock. ‘I know!’ Arianwyn said sadly. It was so clear, now, what it was trying to do.

  ‘We should go,’ Colin said, his vo
ice full of urgency and something else. He was angry with her.

  ‘But I can’t leave the stagget like this,’ Arianwyn said sorrowfully. ‘It’s cruel.’

  ‘There isn’t anything to be done now,’ Colin said. ‘There’s no cure for this. Let’s go.’

  Without turning she said quietly, ‘I have to banish it.’

  ‘No!’ Colin said quickly. He tried to pull her up, away from the stagget. ‘You can’t do that. It’s forbidden – it’s illegal, Arianwyn!’

  Arianwyn got to her feet and whirled to face Colin. He stumbled back in shock. ‘But we can’t leave it like this. I won’t do it. Who knows what might happen. It might attack the rest of the herd, it could spread more hex through the wood, infect more spirit creatures. Don’t you see?’

  Colin shook his head sadly. Perhaps he truly didn’t understand at all.

  The stagget’s movements became more furious. Arianwyn could see the blackness clouding its eyes again. The stunning spell was already weakening. ‘I’m doing it,’ Arianwyn said, dropping to the stagget’s side again.

  She sketched L’ier, the banishing glyph, in the air just above its head.

  ‘I’ll have to tell the High Elder,’ Colin said. His voice was low and shook a little. He took another few sloshing steps away from her.

  ‘Colin, you wouldn’t—’ Arianwyn paused and twisted where she knelt in the river.

  ‘I think I have to,’ he said, staring at the water, not looking at her. ‘I’m sorry. I just don’t think this is right.’ He shrugged.

  ‘And I can’t see what other choice we . . . I have,’ Arianwyn said quietly. She turned back to the glyph and listened to the water splashing as Colin waded away.

  The glyph complete, it hung in the air for a moment, dark and full of sadness. L’ier was the only glyph that held a small sliver of dark magic within it, just enough to open a rift to the void.