The Witch of Glenaster (21 page)

The next day the sun rose clear
in the domed sky, and, once I had washed and dressed, Thomas came to meet us,
and escorted us down to one of the lower levels of Richard’s home, where Lukas
was already eating a hearty breakfast; and we sat on stools made from stumps of
oak, and ate whortleberry jam on starchy bread, and coffee so hot it burned the
roof of your mouth. The light was so bright through the windows you had to
squint to see across the room, and Magnus drank two great mugs of milk, thick
as treacle and tasting of grass and the earth, and he burped loudly after each
one.

After a while, Lukas and Thomas
disappeared, and left us free to roam the land about the Towers, for, as we
were told, everywhere within the Cities’ walls was safe, but still we were
warned not to wander too far, and to return before the sun left the horizon. So
we set off, glad to walk in the sunshine, and to be free of fear for a while.

We followed the path that led
through the centre of the Cities, and at first were content to take in the
beauty around us; the long branches of the trees shadowing down upon our heads,
and the song and busyness of the people. I wondered if they were happy, and
what darkness they had seen, up here, so close to the Witch’s lair.

After an hour or so, Magnus,
who was fidgety, and not satisfied simply with a quiet walk, demanded a game of
tag, and so we raced for a while in and out of the trees, till a slick of sweat
glued my hair to my forehead, and our bellies ached with laughter.

As we were recovering our
breath, we encountered a boy, not much taller than me, though he seemed
younger, and with fine eyebrows and a stern face, staring hard at us as he
wound a thin piece of root about his finger.

“You outsiders?” he asked, not
unkindly. “Came through last night?”

I paused a little, before nodding
in reply. He seemed satisfied with this.

“Come with me,” he said. “Want
to show you something.”

We trekked after him, as he
headed off the path and through the wood, and soon arrived at a large clearing,
the trees at its edge arranged in neat intervals, and a broad path running away
from it to the north.

“Why have you brought us here?”
I asked, but the boy said simply:

“My name is Rand. Wait a
little.”

We did so, and for several
minutes heard or saw nothing but the wind caressing the high branches, and the
sun sighing fiercely on their leafless limbs.

Then, so sudden I at first
thought it was a mirage, a pair of young people appeared, coming down the path
on the other side of the clearing; a man and a woman, and behind them a great
company of folk, the men dressed in dark-red tunics threaded with gold, and the
women in dresses of a similar design, with long sleeves that rippled in the
wind.

They formed a circle about the
clearing, as another man brought a fiddle up to his chin, and then, bowing to
each other, they began to dance, a set of movements that seemed complex yet
somehow unrehearsed, weaving in and around one another, laughing and cheering,
sometimes pulling away, so one or two couples could have the more space to move
in, and sometimes coming together again, so all the dancers were surging and
moving as one, forming and reforming lines that traced the edges of the
clearing and then moved in towards its centre, as the fiddler played fast, and
then slow, and then fast again; and all the time the look on their faces was
one of pure, unrestrained joy. And I realized
I
, too,
was clapping and laughing along, as the boy was already, and we stamped and
cheered our encouragement, as the sky span dizzily overhead.

“They are bidding farewell to
the autumn,” said the boy, a light smile upon his lips, as he tapped his foot
in time to the music. “Soon the winter will be here, and it will be too cold
and dark for dancing.”

And I looked down, and saw that
Magnus, who was gripping my hand, was singing slightly to himself, his face
open and unafraid, and his eyes wide as he watched the dancers. And I looked up
again, and found that I was weeping.

That night it rained.

We had returned to Richard’s
home long before sundown, as we had been bidden, though we spent many hours
with the boy, and he showed us the quiet and hidden places where he liked to
play, and the streams and brooks which curved through his home, and we promised
to meet him again the following day. But when we returned, the faces of the men
were dark, and Thomas hardly acknowledged us, though he seemed relieved to see
us safe. We were shooed into a corner by a young woman, Iris, who had a soft,
sad face, and walked with a slight limp. She kept Magnus entertained with
stories, and bowls of apple and honey; but I was pleased to be near enough to
the men to be able to hear some of their talk, as they gathered in one of the
low rooms of the South Tower. They were too preoccupied, or too tired, to worry
about being overheard.

“One of our scouting parties
was attacked last night, south of the Meer,” said Matthew
Longfield
,
one of Richard’s lieutenants. He was a slim, anxious young man, about thirty,
dressed in the colours of autumn, like many of his kind, and always pulling at
the coarse beard foresting his chin. “Only one of them survived: Jonas Lake,
from the Southern Acres, three leagues from here. He says he only just managed
to gain the wall with his life, and even then the gatekeepers had to fight off
a great host of Watchers and
drooj
, and large
wolves.”

“Wolves?” said Richard,
alarmed. Matthew nodded.

“Wolves from
Glenaster
,” he said.

“I thought they did not hunt
outside their mistress’s lands,” said Lukas.

“It seems they have learnt to,”
said Thomas, and he stepped a little away from the others, and gazed for a
while into the fire, the light as lambent and cheerful as his face was grave.
Then he spoke:

“It was a sad hour, I think,
when I was born, though I was well loved, and our home was a happy and
contented one. But there are times when I wonder what my life has been for, or
where it has gone; and there are bitter thoughts in my heart that I cannot
deny. At such times a man will find comfort in the darkness, though it brings
no hope. And then the world is a grey and colourless place, with little solace
anywhere. The surgeons tell me my friend Griffin Drake is gravely ill, and may
not last the week, and I have already lost too many men. I have pledged myself
to avenge the deaths of those I love, and I will do so, or die otherwise; for
no man can know his own fate. But I will see the Witch of
Glenaster
before my life is over, and kill her if I can, for all the misery she has
inflicted on our people; and none can say that I have not earned the right.
That is what I will travel across the Cold River to do, and I ask no man to
come with me. The skies grow clear as death, and the waters run with blood, and
there is sorrow everywhere. I have seen too much of it; and I will end it, one
way or the other.”

An impatient wind battered at
the windows, and all of us were silent for many minutes. Eventually, Richard
and Matthew, nodding to Thomas, left the room, and Lukas placed another log on
the fire, which spat fierce sparks in reply. He smiled at us, but I could tell
his heart was not in it. Thomas simply continued to stare, into the flames, and
for the first time I realized the force of his grief, which previously I had
only guessed at.

We stayed another two weeks in
the Green Cities, and Magnus and I spent the days with Rand and his friends, or
otherwise off on our own. Griffin grew worse, and by the first week’s end was
near to death, and Thomas and Lukas were summoned to his bedside. When they
returned, they were both silent, and spoke no words to me or my brother. And
all the time I saw, all around the Cities, their people preparing for war.

They evidently expected it, as
Richard had made clear, and now it was feared it might come sooner than anyone
had realized; but still it seemed somehow strange and sad to me, to witness
these peaceful folk readying themselves for battle, though I realized they
could not have survived for so long up here without being able to defend
themselves. It was the way of the world, and remains so, for no one has the wit
or imagination to end it.

The days became bitter and
crisp with frost, and one morning I came downstairs to see Thomas stood before
a table in his rooms, his belongings spread before him. He seemed surprised to
see me, but smiled, and asked me to help him fold a few of the coarse cotton
shirts he wore beneath his waistcoat. This I did, and he complimented me on my
work, which emboldened me to ask if he was soon going to
Glenaster
,
to confront the Witch. At this he hesitated slightly, but continued to make the
neat little piles he was building, of handkerchiefs, and belt-cloths, and
weatherworn trousers. He opened his mouth to speak, almost thought better of
it,
then
said:

“The day after tomorrow, if the
weather holds.” Then he turned, his pale eyes looking sadly upon me for a
moment, and rested a hand on my shoulder. “Understand, Esther: I am going
alone. Griffin has passed into a sleep from which the doctors think he will not
awake, and Lukas has agreed to remain here, to help defend the Cities in the
event of an attack. He and Richard will be responsible for you and your
brother’s protection.” And he went back to his folding. I blurted out:

“But you can’t leave!” And the
suddenness of my words took me by surprise as much as they did him. I realized
that, with my parents gone, and all my adult kin, Thomas was the nearest thing
I had now to a parent, and to be parted from him would be a bitter loss. I
started to weep, and the tears fled from my eyes. “I need you! Magnus needs
you! You cannot leave us here…”

“But you seem so happy – you
and your brother – happier than I have ever seen you. And these people can
protect you better than I can…”

“No! I am happy because
you
are
here, you and Lukas. You are our friends. You cannot leave. You heard what
Richard said: it is madness to go into the Witch’s lair, alone, with only
thought of revenge to accompany you. You will be killed, like all the others.”

“Yet you wished it, did you
not, Esther?” he asked, turning to me once more. “You would have put your own
brother in danger to satisfy your desire for her death.”

I lunged at him then, my fists
ready to pummel reason into his chest –
my
reason, which of course was
no reason at all, for there was no reason left in the world. He caught my
wrists sharply, too sharply, and I cried out. But he would not let go.

“It’s your spirit that gives
you strength, Esther; it is what has kept you and your brother alive. But where
I am going you cannot follow. There is peril enough in the journey, but once we
had crossed the Soar I could not protect you like I can here. You would put
both our lives in danger. The path through the Lessening Lands is treacherous,
and full of things beyond imagination, worse than a fierce enemy with a
sharpened blade; and
Glenaster
itself is a poison to
the soul, and the strongest men would quake even to set foot there. Do you
think such places would suit a young country girl, however brave? And what
about your brother? If you were killed he would have no family left. He has
already lost his parents. But at least he has you.”

“But I have no one!” I
screamed, and it sounded like the empty knell of a ship, pinned like a fly on
the line between the broad sky and the vast, unknowable deep of the ocean.
Never before had my words sounded so pointless to my ears. Thomas seemed
uncertain for a moment, and his eyes flickered slightly. But the moment passed,
and his face became set once more.

“There is nothing you can say
to make me change my mind, Esther. If I return, I may make you my ward – if you
would like. You and your brother. In any case, I would like us to be friends.
Can we be friends?” And there seemed a cracking, faint as the wind, in his
voice, as he offered me his hand. But I would not take it.

“You said yourself you needed
me!” I protested.

“When?” he asked.

“When we were in that cabin, in
the forest. I overheard you talking about a, a prophecy! Or have you
forgotten?” And I spat out my words. “That a young girl would destroy the
Witch…”

“That is an old wives’ tale, Esther;
I was foolish to even mention it…”

“Were you?” I said, and I was
defiant now, my teeth clenched, as his grip on my arms loosened. “What if it’s
true? You may need me. Then what will you do?” I shook him away, and glared at
him. “I hope the Witch takes you! I hope she curses you, for leaving me here,
and makes you wander the wastes, friendless and alone! I hope she keeps you
like a pet, and makes you meow like a cat, unmanned and stupid! I hope she
learns to hate you like I do!” And I turned smartly on my heel, and ran out of
the room, pushing against a startled Lukas in my dash down the stairs; and I
broke from the Tower at a gallop, and found a quiet clearing, where I wept for
a long time against the belly of an oak, until my eyes were aching and parched
of tears.