Winter, Faerstice

by Kevin Lawler

  Winter heard the screeching again. This time it sounded closer and more like a wailing or a moaning. Winter knew where it must be coming from. She thought about running from the mad witch. But the idea of looking weak to the people behind her kept her in place. She had come this far. She would stand her ground.

  Through a hole in the rock that became visible as Winter came around the bend, she could see her. Far across in the other room. She hunched against the wall, covered in filthy gray rags. She looked homeless. The noise she made did not sound good, like a person crunching a jawbreaker intent on busting their teeth. She turned a little, and Winter could see what she was doing: crumbling rocks from the cave-face, putting them in her mouth, and eating them. She grabbed an oblong crystal tightly and pulled against the wall. It came mostly clear and then she wiggled it until it snapped off. She looked it over and put it into her mouth and began crunching loudly. Surely it would break teeth. Winter did not know how she did this. The sound triggered something inside her, like the feeling she should reach out to a friend, saying, “don’t do that, you’ll hurt yourself.” But Winter could not say anything. The sound of the stone crunching reverberated in the cavern.

  It was dark where Winter was, and she could not see her companions. What she could see was the rags of the mad witch clearly illuminated by the gemstones in the wall. In the dark around the feasting witch there was a buzzing sound, which Winter assumed to be bees. Winter waited until a bee flew into the light near the mad witch, just to confirm that it was bees. When one did finally, it also happened to capture the attention of the mad witch, and she turned towards where it had come from. As she turned the light of a large stone deposit shone on her face, and Winter could see her clearly. Her jaw was sticky with honey, and crumbs of stones were stuck to her lips. She looked wild, like a meth addict, not with dead eyes, but with supercharged vacant eyes, and sores, sores all over her face. Winter saw the whites of the witch’s eyes, and she could see the thorax of the bee crawling across the white of the wide-open eye. The mad witch opened her mouth. Her teeth were rotted and broken, and she dug at the top of her mouth with a long fingernail. A dislodged wad of stone dribbled out of her mouth onto the floor. Her hair was hidden by her cowl.

  The mad witch seemed distracted by the bees, and then startlingly she started making noise. Gibberish, really. She laughed. Then she yelled about the miners coming into her cave, very angrily. She threw her hands up. She walked around in a circle, then she put fist to her chin and talked about how she planned to decorate the cave with drapes. Then she ranted about the miners again getting her cave dirty. She squatted down in the middle of the room, howling, wailing. Winter had to calm the pig. He was getting anxious and she had to put her arms around him to keep him still.

  The pig kept squirming and when Winter looked up the mad witch was sniffing the air.

  Winter wasn’t paying attention to her when it happened. A blanket of shrieking fell over them. Painfully loud. The pig bucked in her arms. Winter had to let go of him to cover her ears. She looked at the faces of her companions. Grimaces, with hands over their ears. Ipsy swiveled her head in pain. The sound ebbed and it was possible to speak again, sort of.

  “What is going on?” Ipsy asked, shouting over the noise. Then the shrieking picked up again. They were more ready for it this time, all the ears were covered.

  Two bees had made it into the alcove where the party hid. Winter peeked around the wall. The outer room was filled wall to wall with bees, buzzing in erratic lines. The mad witch stalked along the wall, shouting at the ceiling. Then, in the very back, where the waxen hive was, there formed the beginning of a swarm, like a point cloud in the room of bees, and it made its way around the cave.

  Winter hid back behind the wall of the alcove. Her eyes were wide. She couldn’t help it. She could see the change on the faces of her friends as they saw her.

  “Bees,” Winter explained. She couldn’t tell if they could hear her over the sound. “Bees,” she mouthed again silently. She did her best bee impression with her right hand.

  A pair of bees flew into the room. The shrieking stopped. Winter hesitantly uncupped her hands from her ears. The sound of the bees still filled the air, punctuated by cursing. Winter looked around the corner. The mad witch staggered in the room, getting stung apparently. Instead of shrieking, she yelled at the bees.

  Darren nocked an arrow. He drew it back. Then he popped around the corner. He let it fly but cursed immediately. He came back around the corner.

  “She’s fast,” he said, “She was already moving, and she bolted as soon as I came around.”

  He had barely finished his sentence when a black beam of magic arced around the side, blasting the ground and scattering rock into the air. Winter was knocked over. Darren was thrown against the wall. The rest had been knocked over.

  The bees filled into their alcove. “AAH!” Cal said, still rising from the blast. “The little bugger stung me!”

  Winter felt a stabbing pain on the back of her neck. “OWW!” she said. She sucked in through her teeth, impatient for the pain to subside. She picked at where the stinger was, but the whole area burned too much for her to feel anything.

  Topple exclaimed. Then Anson. The stinging quickened. The pig squealed, a bee still clinging to his pig cheek. Then the wash of sound from the mad witch filled the room. Winter worried she was going to have to console the pig but he was standing strong this time. The noise from the witch stopped but the bees kept buzzing. Meadow’s bee-eater did its best to snatch bees from the air, but there was no way it could clear them fast enough.

  “We need to get out in the room with her,” Cal said, “We can’t do anything like this.”

  “There’s too many bees in here anyway,” Meadow said, “Do you smell that? The banana smell? That’s their attack pheromone. They’re going to swarm everywhere no matter what now.”

  “Might as well get out in the open then,” said Cal.

  “There’s stone cover,” Darren said.

  “We have to move forward,” said Anson. Anson looked around the corner. “You go left, you right, we’ll go center. You two stay back and guard the rear.” He pointed at Darren and Ipsy.

  Winter ran out of the alcove and ducked behind the stalactite columns separating the room. She was on the left side with Meadow and Louisa and the pig following close behind. Two groups were to the right of them.

  Meadow’s bee-eater Sprig fell to the ground near their feet. She was covered in a ball of writhing bees and couldn’t fly. You could barely see her.

  “Nope,” Meadow said, and she recalled her bee-eater, “Not happening.” Where the bird had been was now empty space, and the ball collapsed. The confused bees flipped over, crawled around on the ground, and flew away.

  From deep in the cave they heard a growing roar. The bees darted furiously. Everybody was getting stung regularly.

  “Nobody’s allergic, are they?” Anson shouted out.

  “Bit late for that,” Ipsy shouted.

  Winter barely winced. Another bee had stung her on the bottom of her right hand. She was ready for it this time.

  Topple stood and began casting. The bees found her, though, and stung her mercilessly. Her body jerked each time. She was forced to abandon the spell and duck back down behind the rock.

  Anson stood to fire an arrow. The mad witch noticed him and bent back with a pained look on her face. A black beam shot from her abdomen, striking the stone near Anson and throwing him down.

  “It’s the stones! The stones she ate! She using the stones!” Darren said.

  Will loosed an arrow, striking her in the hip.

  The mad witch began screaming. The screaming raised in pitch until it changed. The mad witch craned her neck, and the black magical beam came out of her mouth, striking the stalactite column in the center, just above Cal’s head. The stone exploded, throwing rocks into the cloud of bees. Winter had to move her head to avoid a rock in the flying debris. Cal ducked lower behind the red
uced cover.

  Winter noticed the pig looking up at her, steadfast, but injured, with his cheek puffing and swollen where he had been stung. Winter felt bad to have taken an animal into danger. This didn’t seem like a situation where the pig could help. Better to recall him, like Meadow had done. Winter made the snatching motion to recall the pig with her left hand, but it didn’t take. The pig looked at her. Winter tried it over, with her bee-stung dominant hand, and still the pig went nowhere. He cocked his head at her.

  The mad witch restarted the beam. This time she directed at Winter’s island. She started wide and had to course correct. The ever-nearing beam spooked the pig, and he darted from his hiding place out into the open towards the mad witch. His movement was not lost on her and she flung out her right hand from over her shoulder, extending it as if grasping for something greatly desired. A red bolt condensed in her hand and then fired at the pig. The pig had been running at full gallop into the back of the cave, and the shot caught him running along the side wall, center mass. It happened in an instant. The witch threw her hand, the shot fired, and the pig, who had all four of his trotters in the air at the time, took the shot perfectly mid-body. Vaporized by the bolt, he exploded in a mist of blood. It happened first as a kaboom and a loud splat!, or popping, audible over everything in the room, and next as the sound of a bucket of water poured from a roof. Then it was the rapid fire piddle sound of previously airborne droplets of blood drawing a line on the ground. Winter opened her mouth from her position behind the rock. Red drops landed on her head.

  “Boom!” the mad witch cackled. Winter grabbed the hilt of her knife, thinking only of attack. The mad witch turned and ran deeper into the cave, out of the room and into another. The cloud of bees was at a fever pitch. The smell of bananas was in the air.

  A pile of clothes was tossed through the air, landing in the center of the room. It slouched there for a moment and then a flame spiked up from the center. The surface of the clothes caught, and soon the pile was burning from deep within, giving off a rich smoke into the room and lighting the walls with its flame. The bees flew away from the fire. Soon the room was filled with smoke, and the bees grew calm.

  “Thank me later,” Ipsy said from the alcove.

  With the mad witch out of the room, the next sound they heard was like the humming of enormous industrial equipment. Two giant bees hovered out from where she had left and towards the room. The first what must have been a large worker bee, and the second, the queen, even larger.

  Winter dashed towards the passageway to the rear room. The two giant bees were in her way, but they didn’t seem like they could take her. The regular giant had already buzzed over out of her way. Only the queen bee was still blocking her path to the mad witch, seemingly unaware. An arrow passed in front of her at tremendous speed, sticking the regular giant. Winter didn’t have a chance to see what happened to him before she was on the queen. Despite her speed, the jab she gave to the queen was weak, but even so, it seemed to knock the queen down, and, most importantly, out of her way. There were enough people behind to clean up. Winter had to slow to make it through the passageway, she had decelerated into the wall, and after she picked her way through she was walking into the open rear room.

  The rear room was circular with many outcroppings of rock columns and wax tubes to hide behind. Winter could not see where the mad witch was, and she stepped cautiously into the room, looking around her and inspecting. There was a pile of feathers and chicken bones in a recess in the wall.

  Winter could tell the mad witch was in the room, but she couldn’t tell where. The thrust into the bee had been like a crunch through a candy shell. Winter wondered what it would feel like to stab the mad witch, softer and more sickening. Or she could...

  Winter felt a kick to her lower back. She crumpled but caught herself during the landing, on all fours with her face inches from the floor. The knife had spun out in front of her. She felt another kick to her ribs under her arm, and it flipped her over onto her back. Above her staring down menacingly was the mad witch. Beautiful at one point maybe but now ugly. The angle from below was the most unflattering way to present a face.

  The mad witch put her foot on Winter’s chest and leaned in with her weight. Winter tried to bat the foot off with her fists but couldn’t move it. Her foot felt very heavy.

  The witch knelt down to look Winter in the face. In the rear of the room Winter could see her friends filing in. The witch saw her looking and turned to see for herself. Then she got back in Winter’s face and said, “Diminished. Diminished. I can sense it.” She started screaming her dangerously loud scream, first directly at Winter, but then she rotated it to direct it at Winter’s friends. It made Winter’s eyes shake, and the room blurred. She could see her friends fall to the floor in discomfort. The mad witch turned back at Winter, cocking her head and modulating the scream to something quieter and more mocking, snaking her tongue out below her bottom lip. Winter felt pressure in her head. She was sure her eardrums were going to rupture, or worse. The mad witch opened her mouth wider. Winter saw a ball of energy form in the back of the open mouth. She writhed to get free but could not. Drool stretched from the bottom of the witch’s lip. Winter put everything she had into twisting away from under the witch’s foot. She freed herself and rolled over once onto her back. She could see the beam about to start. There was nowhere to go. Reflexively, she put her forearm in front of her face, as if that would shield her from the coming beam.

  What she saw next was not the beam coming at her, but the beam firing harmlessly across the room and into the ceiling. The witch had been caught in the gut with a running tackle, one of the hunters, and had been knocked far from where she was.

  Winter was up and after her knife. The hunter was Will. The beam ended and he stepped back from the witch. Winter gripped the knife’s handle and looked at the witch. She was fazed, clutching her stomach, pieces of her mouth missing where the beam had exited. The mad witch rose and immediately took two arrows, one to the liver and one to leg. The gem tipped arrows exploded, sending pieces of her flying and knocking her down. The mad witch gazed up from the floor. She looked defeated, human. Winter felt sad for her. She relaxed her grip on the knife. The ring of witches closed in on her.

  Her demeanor had changed, her beauty as a young woman was showing through. The mad witch recognized them first. “Cal?” she said. Her voice was younger and more serene but cracking. She sounded sad.

  “Reveille?” Cal asked.

  Reveille nodded, lucid for the first time in who knows how long, and slowly coming to grips with her situation.

  “It’s not me,” Reveille said, “I want you to know that.”

  “I know,” said Cal.

  “Meadow...” said Reveille. She couldn’t finish. She shook her head to collect herself. Then she started as businesslike as she could. “It was Agnes,” she said, “She trapped us, and she forced us to cast powerful, arcane spells. It was awful. She used us up. She’s training a class of them. Young witches, I don’t know what for. I think for huntresses. I stashed what I knew behind a shack on the outskirts of town. She’s in a skyscraper, it’s all there. I didn’t think I’d get another break from the madness.”

  Reveille’s face twisted. She started spouting madness. “Apricots! Apricots! Fresh plums!”

  Her face calmed and she pleaded, “Kill me! Kill me! I don’t want this!” She tried insulting them, “...Some, uh, witch hunters you are! Jerks!”

  Then her face twisted again. She clawed at them. Gem deposits in her body glowed.

  “Can’t we do anything?” Winter asked.

  “No, it’s over for her. There’s only misery left,” said Cal.

  “We have to put her down,” Anson said.

  They looked at each other.

  “I’ll do it,” said Meadow, “She was my friend.” Meadow had a grim look on her face. Blood was on the side of her neck where it had run out from her ears. She walked up and held her hand out in front of Winte
r. Winter looked down at her hand, then looked up at her. Meadow’s face was unmoving. Winter realized she needed to hand her the knife and did.

  The mad witch babbled on the floor. Meadow pulled her cowl back and grabbed her by the collar. Winter turned her face but could hear it happening. Reveille gasped. Was this really happening?

  When Winter did look Meadow was rolling Reveille over onto her back. She crossed her arms, which Winter thought was a peaceful way for her to rest.

  “You’ve got to carry her out,” Meadow said to the hunters.

  “What?” asked Darren.

  “I can’t drag her myself.”

  Darren was taken aback. “It’s a dead witch. What are you going to do with it?”

  “We’re going to put her to rest.”

  “To rest? She looks pretty restful to me right now. We’ve got our own dead that I don’t even know if we’ll be able to move. We’re not your porters.”

  “It’s OK,” said Anson, “We’re going to help them.”

  “Witches don’t get burials,” said Darren.

  “I know,” said Anson.

  Darren squatted down by the corpse as he figured out a way to carry her away.

  Winter listened as Cal mumbled under her breath. “We were dying. She could’ve killed us. We nearly all died. We’re not strong enough for this.”

  Nobody was watching Darren closely. When Winter looked back he was in the process of cutting Reveille’s ear off.

  “What are you doing?” Meadow shouted.

  “What?” Darren said, “War trophy.” His knife was halfway through Reveille’s ear. “We always do this.”

  “Quit it, Darren,” said Anson.

  “What am I hearing? Are you some kind of witch lover?” asked Darren.

  “Oskar’s orders.”

  “Right, so there is a witch lover, just not here.” Darren grumbled. He wiped his knife and put it away. Reveille’s ear was hanging on.

  Nobody was celebrating. Cal looked shaken. Ipsy covered herself with her arms where she had thrown away her clothes. The pig was dead. Winter remembered. That was what that painful feeling inside of her was.