A Curse of Ash and Embers

by Jo Spurrier

  There was silence, and after a moment she sat again, gingerly, as though every movement pained her. Whatever it was she’d taken from the fire to sustain her was wearing off, I realised, and fast.

  With a sigh, she pressed a hand to her forehead. ‘Look, I know what happened to him. To them. After Bennett threw himself off the falls, his spirit came to tell me what happened. What she did. That’s why I came back to this gods-forsaken place, to deal with her. To end it.’ She tossed her hair back, lifting her chin. ‘No one else had the guts to face her, to put a stop to her evil. Just me, on my own.’ She scowled, dark as thunder, and jabbed a finger at the pair of them across the table. ‘So don’t you sit there and harp at me for throwing down a mark here and there for a bit of backup. Because I’m doing this on my own, and I’ve never had anyone to watch my back, all right? Not like you do.’

  Attwater bowed his head. ‘Sorry, lass. That was a low blow, I admit it.’

  Aleida looked away with a hand over her mouth and tears in her eyes. ‘He was your kin, I know. But I mourn him too.’

  ‘The last of my kin, really. Him and the little ones. But I do know it was Gyssha’s doing, not yers. Well, at least she can’t hurt anyone else.’

  A flicker of something crossed Aleida’s face then. I couldn’t be certain what it was, but I tucked the thought away to deal with later.

  ‘So what’s yer plan?’ Attwater said. ‘Hand her over, then punch him in the face and let her out again?’

  Aleida shrugged. ‘Well, she’ll let herself out if I give her the key, but more or less.’

  ‘Too obvious. He’ll be expecting it.’

  ‘Have you got a better idea?’ Aleida demanded. ‘One thing you ought to consider here is that if that bloody warlock manages to kill me, he’ll claim this territory and everything in it.’

  Attwater and Laurel shared a glance. ‘But the fact remains, lass,’ Attwater said, laying a hand on Laurel’s delicate arm. ‘The answer’s no. And I know ye’re not strong enough to force her into that cage, mark or no. It’s not that we don’t trust ye—’

  ‘Not just that we don’t trust you,’ Laurel interjected.

  ‘— It’s that we don’t think ye can pull it off.’

  Back in the cottage, Aleida pressed her forehead to the marble slab of the mantelpiece. ‘He’s probably right, you know.’

  I glanced up from the pot I was stirring, feeling worried. ‘Don’t talk like that.’

  ‘No, it’s true. A direct confrontation is what got me in this state in the first place. I need to find another way.’

  My hand tightened around the wooden spoon, and I wished the knot in my chest would loosen, just a little. ‘You’ll think of something.’ I summoned the courage to speak further. ‘Aleida?’

  ‘Mm?’

  ‘For what it’s worth, I’ve got your back.’

  She dropped a hand to my shoulder, and squeezed. ‘You do, don’t you, kid? I’m glad of it. I just hope I don’t get you killed as well. There’s enough blood on my hands as it is.’

  I slept like the dead that night — at least, until Aleida shook me awake, sometime well past midnight. ‘Dee! Wake up!’

  I pushed myself up with a gasp. ‘What? What is it? Is the warlock back? Beasts?’ Rubbing bleary eyes, I saw her sitting on her heels beside the fire, which was still burning for once.

  Aleida cocked her head, looking at me with curiosity. ‘No, I’ve got an idea. I just need your help.’

  I glanced at the window. ‘But it’s the middle of the night!’

  ‘Yep. I do my best thinking at night. Now get your boots on and come outside.’

  It took me a few moments to pull on boots, stays and a dress, and then wrap a blanket around my shoulders for a cloak. It was chill outside at night, and very dark. The stars drifted in and out of sight as clouds scudded overhead.

  Aleida was already outside — at least, I hoped that was her I could hear rattling around in the outbuildings. After dithering for a moment on the doorstep, I went back inside for the lantern, and then found her in what looked like an ancient, unused stable, cluttered with old tools, old saddlery with the leather cracked and crumbling, fraying sacks and bundles of rags, and countless other things. It was even darker inside than out, but I found her fossicking through the hoarded trash without so much as a lantern.

  She threw a coil of rope at my feet where several others already lay, and then glanced up with a small frown. ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘I forgot about that.’

  ‘About what?’ I said, still feeling half asleep.

  ‘That you can’t see in the dark. I’ll take care of it, just let me duck back inside.’ She picked her way back through the rubbish. ‘Oh, and fetch that axe down, would you?’ she said with a gesture to the jumble of tools.

  The axe was resting on a couple of pegs driven into the stonework, and I lifted it down with some hesitation. Neglected tools have a habit of turning on their wielders, and from the look of it I expected the head to fall off at the first swing, but it surprised me by being quite sound and extremely sharp.

  Aleida returned then, with a little ceramic pot and a tiny brush, the sort fancy city girls use for their face-paint. ‘All right,’ she said. ‘Close your eyes and sweep your hair off your forehead.’

  A moment later I felt a touch of coolness on my forehead as she painted some strange design of curved, sweeping lines and groups of dots, followed by a sweep across each eyelid. The moist touch made my eyelids flicker and twitch. ‘There. That should do it. You can open your eyes now.’

  I did, in time to see her replace the lid on the pot. The tiny brush held the remains of something that glittered and sparkled even in the darkness. Blinking in surprise, I looked around.

  It wasn’t bright like daylight, but it wasn’t dark either. Everything was just . . . intense. Usually at night it was hard to see the colours in things, but now it looked as though the world was painted in vivid hues, the grass impossibly green, the sky a deep, enveloping indigo, the stars, when they briefly appeared, sparkling like diamonds. There was no source of light, no shadows like during the day, instead, everything seemed to glow softly, as though lit from within.

  Aleida tucked the pot and brush away in a pocket, and scooped up the ropes into a basket with a handle. ‘Come on,’ she said, and set out down the meadow with the basket in one hand, leaning on the walking stick with each step. ‘Bring the axe!’ she called over her shoulder.

  ‘What are we doing?’ I said as I hurried after her.

  ‘I told you, I have an idea.’

  ‘But that doesn’t explain anything!’

  ‘True, true.’ She came to a stop halfway down the meadow, near the huge tree — the one we’d made a berth around when we’d walked down to the stream. She dumped the ropes out of the basket and held it out to me. ‘Take this down to the stream and find me a dozen or so rocks about as big as your fist. Leave the axe, you won’t need it.’

  I still had no idea what we were doing, but I figured I wasn’t going to get any more explanation than I already had. I laid the axe down and set off for the stream.

  ‘Oh, and Dee?’ Aleida called out behind me. ‘I’m going to call that earthbeast over. Don’t go jumping out of your skin when you see it moving, all right?’

  I looked back at her. I couldn’t bring myself to say anything, so I just turned back and went about my task.

  By the time I reached the water the beast was moving, lumbering across the unnaturally green grass. The hair on my arms rose as I watched it — it moved like a puppet, one of those puppets with a dozen strings you see sometimes at fairs, only it was bigger than anything I’d ever seen move before.

  I turned my back on it, looking out to the quiet hillsides instead, and I found myself thinking of Kian, with his fair skin and soft red-brown curls. I hoped he was sleeping somewhere warm and dry instead of tramping around the countryside under the direction of a madwoman.

  At the stream I crouched on the bank and splashed a little water
on my face, trying to wake myself up. Whatever it was my mistress was planning to do out here, it seemed best to have all my wits about me. Water dripping from my nose and chin, I gazed into the water and wondered again what on earth I was doing here, so far from home.

  As I turned away from the water, looking over the rocks beside the stream, something bright and glittering caught my eye. I stopped and turned back.

  It took me a moment to find it again. In the pool, within arms-reach of the edge, something shone and shimmered beneath the water. I moved closer, peering down, and saw a crystal — a chunk of stone, mostly clear but frosted white at the base. Thanks to the spell Aleida had cast on me, it glittered like ice in sunlight.

  Lifting my skirts with one hand to keep them clear of the water, I edged as close as I could without soaking my feet, just the toes of my boots kissing the lapping water, and reached in to grasp the stone.

  It was a perfect crystal, its point as clear as water, the facets and faces far too crisp and clean to have been in the stream for long. It was a little shorter than my hand and half as thick as my wrist. It was, I felt certain, the loveliest thing I’d ever held. For some long moments I just stood there and gazed at it, turning it over and over to run my fingertips over its perfect faces.

  ‘Dee?’ Aleida called, her voice floating down the meadow.

  Hastily I set the crystal aside and gathered up a dozen or so stones, not looking too closely at any of them. Then, reaching for the crystal again, I hesitated. Part of me wanted to put it back in the water, or hide it nearby. I could creep back in the morning, maybe, and sneak it up to the cottage. I could keep it for myself.

  But no, that wasn’t right. It wasn’t mine. This was Aleida’s land, everything it produced belonged to her.

  I set the crystal on top of the stones in the basket and started back up the hill, scowling to myself. I was selfish and greedy, wasn’t that what Lem always said? Selfish, lazy Elodie, only ever thinking of herself. I’d heard it every single day since Lem had come into our lives, until the morning I climbed onto Yosh’s wagon to rattle away.

  The lumbering beast was standing beside Aleida when I returned, and I offered her the basket without saying a word.

  She blinked at the crystal, looking surprised, and then picked it up and ran long fingers along the faces and angles. ‘What’s this?’

  ‘I found it in the stream,’ I said.

  Resting a finger on the point, she looked me over, and then held it out to me. ‘Where do you want me to put it?’ I said, taking it back.

  ‘Wherever you like,’ she said. ‘It’s yours.’

  ‘I . . . what?’

  ‘You found it,’ she said. ‘Or rather, you were given it, not me.’ Without another word, she sat down and started picking through the rocks I’d found. After a moment I laid the crystal down and joined her.

  ‘So what exactly are we doing?’

  She was sorting the ropes into lengths, and tying a rock to the end of each one. ‘I’ve got an idea,’ she said again. ‘To destroy the warlock. Only thing is, it’s a bit dangerous, and I’m not really strong enough to handle this step by myself. I imagine a farm girl like you can swing that axe just fine, but how’s your throwing arm?’

  ‘Um, fine, I guess?’ I said.

  Two minutes later, I was sorry I’d said any such thing. We stood in the orchard, looking up at the huge tree at its centre. Long vines were hanging down from the spreading branches, swaying gently in the evening breeze. At least, I told myself it was the breeze making them move, and refused to acknowledge that the night air was perfectly still.

  Aleida handed me a rock. ‘All right, Dee. I wouldn’t be asking you to do this if I could do it myself, but, honestly, I don’t think I can throw these and stay on my feet.’

  I frowned at the rock, bewildered. ‘What do I do with this?’

  ‘Throw it. At the tree. Up into the branches.’

  I turned my frown on her. I had an idea of what was about to happen, and I wasn’t in any mood to have it confirmed.

  But what would happen if I refused? There wasn’t anyone else who could help her. There was only me, and hadn’t I promised her that I had her back?

  I threw the rock. And watched, unsurprised, as the trailing, swaying vines struck at it like a nest of snakes, thrashing, writhing, lashing like whips, until the rock I’d thrown crumbled and fell in a shower of gravel.

  ‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘That’s what I thought.’

  Aleida cleared her throat. ‘This,’ she said, ‘is a Demon Snakewood.’

  I raised an eyebrow. ‘Demon? Really?’

  ‘Really. They’re only grown by magic, and black magic at that. Gyssha should never have let it get this big, but, well, it is what it is.’

  ‘All right,’ I said. ‘So what’s the plan?’

  She gestured to the ropes. ‘You’re going to throw those rocks up there until we snag a branch. Buttercup, here,’ she jerked a thumb towards the bull-headed beast, ‘is going to take the rope and haul back to keep the limb taut, and hopefully keep it from grabbing us. Then you’re going to take the axe to the branch. While you’re doing that I’ll keep the rest of the vines off you.’

  ‘Buttercup?’

  She shrugged, and reached into the basket then and pulled out some other things, which I’d taken for rags. They turned out to be two pairs of sturdy leather gloves and some scarves of heavy fabric. I let her wrap the scarf around my head and face, leaving only my eyes free, and then I pulled on the gloves. ‘Why do we need all this?’ I said, my voice muffled by the fabric.

  ‘The sap,’ she said. ‘It’ll burn if it touches you.’

  ‘Of course it will,’ I muttered.

  She covered her own face the same way, and turned to me. ‘Ready?’ I could tell by the sound of her voice that she was grinning beneath the thick cloth.

  I sighed. ‘Sure. Why not?’

  ‘That’s the spirit.’ She clapped me on the shoulder. ‘Let’s go.’

  There was a trick to it, she explained to me. Don’t aim too close to the centre of the tree, the branches there were too strong, and even the earthbeast couldn’t stand against them. Instead, I had to snag one of the outermost limbs. It wasn’t enough merely to hit it, either — I had to get the rope wrapped around it, because the tree would soon realise that we were trying to drag a limb down and would let go of the rope once it figured out there was no prey within reach.

  I lost several ropes because the tree grabbed them and yanked them out of my hands, hard enough that it smarted my palms even through the thick leather gloves. Other times, the rope slithered free and fell to the earth while the vines thrashed and writhed in fury, sometimes reaching towards us in thwarted hunger, other times pulling away from us as though trying to retreat. While taking a breather, I asked Aleida, ‘You’re completely sure it can’t move towards us, right?’

  ‘Oh, definitely,’ she said. ‘If it could get loose it would have taken off years ago.’

  I scowled up at the huge, hideous thing. ‘What’s it for? You said it took magic to grow it—’

  ‘Black magic.’

  ‘All right. So who planted it? Or made it, however it came about.’

  ‘I don’t know. It’s older than Gyssha, I know that much, but I don’t know if Gyssha inherited all this from her teacher, or if she took it from someone else. She never told me.’

  ‘But why would anyone make something like this?

  ‘Power,’ she said with a shrug. ‘Folk on the dark path always want power. Beyond that, who knows? It’s useful for a lot of things, if you’re into the black stuff. The sap is acidic, the smoke from the wood is poisonous and corrosive. Wine from the fruit will give you visions of incalculable ecstasy and prophetic dreams but also make you bleed from every orifice. And that’s before we start getting into the metaphysical properties.’

  That was a different definition of useful than any I’d ever heard. ‘So why are we doing this again?’

  ‘I need some wood
,’ she said. ‘It’s extremely responsive to magic. And, like I said, poisonous.’

  ‘And corrosive,’ I said. ‘What does corrosive mean?’

  ‘That it’ll eat away at everything it touches. Ready to try again?’

  I gathered up the rock and coil of rope with a sigh. ‘Sure.’

  I’d had a bit of practice now, and this time, with the coil of rope in my left hand and a length of it with the rock tied to the end in my right, I set the rock whirling through the air and launched it towards the tree. It felt good this time, not falling short or flying too far, and I stepped back, reaching for the axe as Aleida quickly wound the end of rope around the bull’s horns. Obediently, the beast lumbered backwards, hauling the rope taut.

  Up in the tree the rope jerked, and a branch began to thrash. The rope snapped tight with a startling twang, and for a moment the beast faltered, its huge feet digging furrows into the soft earth before it dug in again and got enough purchase to keep hauling back.

  ‘Got it!’ Aleida said. ‘Now look sharp, Dee. If the tree’s too strong we’ll have to cut the rope and try again. Don’t mind the vines, I’ll deal with them, just hack off the branch, all right?’

  I wound my hands around the axe’s handle, my palms suddenly damp inside the leather gloves. ‘A-are you sure?’

  ‘Yes. Now! Go!’

  The straining beast had pulled down a single, slender branch while the tree thrashed and writhed in fury, tendrils straining towards us. I took a few steps forward and stopped, while the beast pulled and pulled.

  ‘Now, Dee, now!’

  The branch was drawn down to the ground. It was only half the thickness of my wrist, the axe could sever it in a single blow, surely.

  Do it, I told myself. Your name is Forster, your da was a woodsman. You said you had her back, did you mean it or not? DO IT!

  I darted forward, axe raised high. Vines stretched towards me like tentacles, but as I moved I felt something settle over me, like a damp, heavy mist, and the tendrils seemed to simply slip away.

  I swung the axe, and then again. The branch was tough, sinewy; it reminded me of butchering a beast and sawing away at the tendons. I felt something splatter against me, dozens of droplets, and I wrinkled my nose at the sudden stench of scorched wool.