A Curse of Ash and Embers

by Jo Spurrier

  The words echoed inside my head as he drove me onwards towards the water. What’s the matter, Dee? What’s wrong? What’s the matter? What’s wrong? ‘Kian, please let me go. Please.’

  He was right behind me, breathing down my neck. Except, he wasn’t. That morning, when Aleida had pulled me close, I’d felt her breath on my skin, but now I felt nothing — no heat, no air. ‘Soon,’ he said. ‘Soon. I wouldn’t worry about the little witch if I were you. Whatever she’s tangled up in, it doesn’t need to concern you.’ Still, he propelled me onwards, marching me towards the river, hands tight around my wrists.

  ‘Kian!’ I pleaded.

  I remembered the moment I’d first seen him, back on my first morning at the cottage. I’d felt so strange then, so out of place, and I’d been so glad to see a friendly face, that warm smile — and then I thought of Aleida’s Bennett, and how she’d been lost and alone out here until he befriended her.

  I threw myself down on the ground, a dead weight. It should at least have pulled him off balance — Kian was slender, like Aleida, he looked like he never ate enough. But he simply kept dragging me across the ground, his grip on my wrists so tight it was as though I could feel the touch of the flames all over again. I heard my own breath sobbing from the pain of it, but he either didn’t notice, or didn’t care.

  I knew what it meant. It all added up in my mind, the pieces fitting together like the fragments of a dish, shattered on a flagstone floor. No warmth, no breath, strength far greater than his weedy frame. The way he was so often there whenever I ventured from the cottage, ready with a warm smile and a friendly ear. Like he’d been lying in wait. He was too good to be true. He always had been. ‘You’re not Kian,’ I said. ‘There is no Kian.’

  He looked down at me and chuckled, eyes full of mirth. ‘Then who am I, Elodie?’

  My chest felt tight with fear, like an iron band around my ribs. All I could do was whisper. ‘Gyssha . . .’

  The thing wearing Kian’s face threw back its head with a laugh. ‘Stubborn little thing, aren’t you?’ he said, still hauling me towards the river, despite my thrashing and kicking. ‘The one thing that bothers me is that I can’t for the life of me — hah! — figure out where she dug you up from. Oh well, I don’t suppose it matters. I had another wasp lined up for you, you know, all ready to go. I decided against it in the end — there’d be no fun in it, you see?’

  We were at the river now, rocks rolling under his feet, the water rushing over smooth stones. The air was full of noise and water. I realised then where the old witch had brought me.

  The thing let go of my wrists and took another grip — one hand buried in my hair, another on my shoulder, and dragged me on scrabbling hands the last few feet to the water. At the edge of the river, a couple of boulders made a little sheltered pool where the water was just rippling and swirling instead of the frothing, tumultuous flow a few yards away.

  ‘Sure,’ the thing went on, ‘I could pump you full of belladonna and chase you over the falls with visions of demons and monsters, but then you wouldn’t know. You wouldn’t know who killed you.’ It held me over the water, and I felt it lean down, its head next to mine. Our faces reflected in the swirling water, distorted but still clear enough to see — my face with wide eyes, panting lips, pale with fear, and Kian’s smooth, freckled cheeks and tousled curls, as beautiful as the first time I’d seen him.

  ‘And I just couldn’t be having that,’ he said in my ear while I panted with fear and pain. ‘It wouldn’t be right. I need you to know in your last moments. I need you to know what happens to those who cross Gyssha Blackbone. Because if you don’t know, what’s the point?’

  The reflection changed. The sweet, kind face melted away, flowing like wax. His hair became a thatch of twigs; his brown eyes were brown river-stones. His lips, his smile — oh gods. His true face was a skull, green with moss, with shreds of flesh still clinging to the bones. The stench of decay made me choke and retch.

  The hand buried in my hair forced my head to turn towards him. ‘Now,’ the corpse said, teeth clacking together with every word. ‘It’d be an awful shame for a young lass to die without ever having her first kiss, wouldn’t it? Kiss me, Elodie. Don’t tell me you haven’t dreamed about these lips, girl. Kiss me, my lady love!’

  As the revolting face pressed close to mine, something inside me turned cold and hard. My breath was still sobbing in my throat, my heart pounding so hard it hurt, but for an instant all that seemed to pull away. A weapon, I thought. I need something, anything! Even a chunk of stone from the river would be better than my bare hands, shaking with terror. I threw myself down towards the water, shoving aside the thought of how easy it would make it for Gyssha to drown me like a rat . . . but then my fingertips found a shaft of cold, crisp stone, its flat faces as smooth as glass, the bulk of it thicker than my wrist. Another crystal, the largest I’d ever seen.

  I lifted it out of the water and smashed it across the grinning skull with all my strength. Then I swung it again, and again, and heard bone crack under the strike.

  It didn’t cry out. That was the strangest thing. Aside from the rush of water, the only sounds were my own grunts and panting breaths as I clubbed the awful thing again and again. The crystal broke, the perfect point cleaving off, but I didn’t even care. In fact, it was probably for the best, as it had a wicked edge now, like broken glass. I stabbed it into his chest, felt it squeeze between the ribs, forcing them apart. And then, as the corpse lay still, I backed away, panting and shaking.

  I’d seen enough of witchcraft now to recognise what it was: a construct, made of human bones. The rags he wore might well have been the suit the poor lad was buried in. The bones had been strung together with leather and wire and wrapped in tiny crystal beads that glittered like eyes in darkness. I remembered the day before, when Kian had sat behind me on the grey horse with his arms around my waist, and I had to choke down bile as my stomach heaved.

  I raked hands through my hair and reeled back, feet slipping on the round stones. We were even closer than I’d realised to the top of the falls — I could see the edge of it, only a few feet away. I started to glance around, but then a noise made me freeze. A rattle of bones.

  A demented laugh rang out, clear even over the roar of the waterfall, and the construct lifted its head, river-stone eyes fixed on me. ‘Stupid girl,’ it said. ‘Stupid, stupid girl. Do you think this has a heart to pierce? A brain to crush?’ It heaved itself up, broken crystal still buried in its chest. ‘I don’t know how my worthless daughter could think a lack-wit like you could ever be a witch.’

  I backed away, two quick steps, and crouched down. There was a length of wood jammed between two stones, probably by some past flood. I got my hands under it and wrenched it up, just as the skeleton found its feet and lurched towards me.

  My first swing caught it under the chin, wrenching its head up and sending it stumbling back. My second drove it back further, its rotting boots scrabbling on the slippery rocks above the falls.

  On the last swing, it grabbed for the wood, fingers closing tight around the end of the bough.

  It started to speak, opening that ghastly, grinning mouth.

  It never got the chance. I shifted my grip on the bough, and gripped it like a lever, like a ram, and shoved.

  For an instant the skeleton wavered on the edge of the falls. Then, it was gone, and there was no sound but the roar of the water and the pounding of blood in my ears.

  ‘Wouldn’t be my first kiss, anyway,’ I spat after it. Then I stumbled to the edge of the river, and hastily scrubbed my hands and face with the cold, clean water. I tried not to vomit at the memory of those arms around me and that dead, rotting face so close to mine.

  When I thought I could stand again, I heaved myself up, found another stick — not as long or stout as the one I’d lost, unfortunately — and crept up to the edge of the waterfall to peer over the side. Part of me was certain I’d find the construct there, clinging to the rocks with
hands that would never tire, but there was nothing. Nothing but long scrapes through the moss where dead, fleshless fingers had scrabbled for grip. Gone. Dead? I felt myself grimace. How do you kill something that isn’t alive? All I could hope for was that the fall had smashed it to pieces. ‘Kian,’ I felt myself whispering his name without ever willing the word to my lips. For a moment I entertained the idea that it wasn’t all a lie, that maybe there really was a boy out there with tangled curls and warm brown eyes with freckles on his cheeks, but then I remembered my talk with Melly. No, if he was ever real, she’d have known him. It was all a lie, built just to ensnare me.

  I tried not to contemplate how well it had worked. There was no time for that.

  ‘All right,’ I said to myself, trying to smooth down skirts that were once again streaked with mud, and now also soaked by the river. ‘All right. Now I just have to find my way back.’

  But with the roar of the waterfall loud in my ears, I bit my lip. The gods only knew how far the construct had taken me from Aleida — from the clearing where I’d left her I couldn’t even hear these falls. I had no idea which way to go. I was alone out here — at least, I hoped I was — and utterly lost.

  First I tried to retrace my steps, following the trail where the construct had dragged me across the damp ground. But the tracks petered out while the sound of the waterfall was still loud in my ears. I thought about just setting out and hoping to find some clue — a footprint or a shred of cloth caught on a bush — but then I shook my head. It would be beyond foolish to get lost out here; more lost than I already was, that is.

  Instead I went back to the river and the waterfall, and stood on the huge rock at the top of the cliff, looking out at the mountains through the haze thrown up by the falling water. I’d glimpsed the falls a number of times yesterday, out on the horse, and I had a rough idea of where the cottage lay from here. I ought to be able to walk in that direction until I hit the trail we’d taken out that morning, and then follow that path back to Aleida. Except that I was at the top of the waterfall, not the bottom; and in any case, the remains of Gyssha’s construct was down there somewhere. Even if the disgusting thing was smashed on the rocks, I’d sooner not stare into that grinning face again.

  It’d take too long, anyway. With her construct gone, what would Gyssha do next? Summon something else to torment me? Or go after Aleida? I bunched my fists in my skirts, ignoring the sting of the burns on my hands and arms. I felt hopeless. The one thing Aleida had asked me to do was stay by her side, and I hadn’t even managed that.

  I turned away from the cliff-top with a shake of my head. It was too cold to stay up there for long, what with the spray from the falls and the up-draft driven by falling water.

  As I retreated, something caught my eye — a mirror-bright flash among the round river-stones. I stopped, and then stooped to pick it up: the broken point of the crystal I’d used to bludgeon the thing hiding under Kian’s face. ‘Sorry,’ I murmured, cleaning mud off the shard with my sleeve. It was by far the largest one that I’d ever seen, a true wonder; and I’d ruined it.

  I held it up to the sunlight, remembering the beautiful, unfolding shape Aleida had called out of the amethyst point that morning. ‘You’ve made a friend,’ she’d told me. Well, I really needed one of those right now. I might be lost, but maybe I wasn’t alone after all. ‘Um . . . hello?’ I said, softly. ‘I’m sorry I broke your stone, but I really am grateful you brought it to me.’

  A pulse of light rippled across the crystal’s glassy face. I almost dropped it in surprise. I hadn’t really expected a response. ‘You can hear me?’

  Another flash of light mimicked the first.

  I glanced around, afraid that I was imagining things. What if it was just a reflection off the water? What if . . .

  No, I told myself. It’s real, you know it’s real. You’ve seen it.

  A seed of hope unfolded in my chest. I had an idea. Aleida had called him an earth spirit. I didn’t know much about spirits and witchcraft, but it seemed to me that an earth spirit here in the mountains would have a hard time getting lost. ‘Can you help me?’ I said. ‘I need to get back to Aleida, quickly. Can you show me the way?’

  One more pulse of light washed over the stone, and then the lights appeared in a rippling flood, just like the sun sparkling off the flowing water.

  It took me some time to understand — it was like a game of blind man’s bluff, but with the direction of the ripples showing me which way to go. Only, it seemed to be leading me right into the canyon.

  I only held back for a few moments. When the alternative was waiting for Gyssha to come after me again, either before or after she settled her business with Aleida, I didn’t see I had any choice but to trust the strange, glittering creature folded up within the stone. So I shoved my stick under my apron-ties to free my hands, and set out to follow where the spirit led.

  The ripples led me along the riverbank, heading away from the falls. I knew this wasn’t the direction we’d come, but, again, what choice did I have? There might be many things to fear in this strange world I’d found myself in, but every instinct I had said that this spirit wasn’t one of them. So I went where it guided me, even when the ripples of light sent me into a canyon, past sheer, rocky walls blanketed with moss, picking my way over huge, smooth-washed boulders with water rushing white all around me.

  Then, when I reached a narrow crevice in the wall, the spirit guided me into the dark. This time I didn’t hesitate at all — it seemed pointless now to quibble over where the spirit was taking me. The shimmering glow kept leading me on, even when we left the sun behind, giving just enough light for me to see the blackness and void around me. I crept on through the dark, clutching the stone so tightly that my knuckles ached, and keeping my other hand raised over my head, hoping it would keep me from walking into a low-hanging stone in the dark. Even so, I didn’t feel half as scared as I had been when Kian’s hand closed around my wrists, dragging me to the river’s edge and the top of the falls.

  After what felt like an age, I saw a gleam of daylight ahead and hurried towards it on shaking legs. ‘Thank you,’ I whispered to the stone. ‘Thank you, thank you.’

  When I stepped out into daylight again, the roar of water was gone, and there were only the regular sounds of the forest, the rustle of leaves and the distant twittering of birds.

  And then, close by, the sound of someone breathing hard.

  I took one glance back, making sure there was no danger behind me, but the passage that had brought me here was gone. Utterly gone. There was nothing there but solid rock. Well, I said to myself. Are you really so surprised?

  Then I saw her — her black hair had come loose from its bun and spilled over her shoulders, fallen leaves clinging to her dress. Her wand was in her hand, and she stood as though frozen, staring.

  Slowly, I tucked the crystal fragment into my apron pocket, and started forward. Part of me wanted to call to her, to let her know I was here but something made me hold back. She was focused intently on something I couldn’t see, but the line of her shoulders and the way she held herself reminded me of a cat, hunched and ready to attack.

  But what was she staring at? An illusion? A hallucination brought on by the belladonna? I couldn’t see a—

  No. There was something there. A haze, like smoke hanging in the air.

  I took one more step, and then I saw it.

  Back home, in my siblings’ storybook, there was a page full of strange illustrations that played tricks on the eye. There was a young woman who changed into an old hag if you looked at her just right, and a duck’s head that became a rabbit, with the beak turning into the ears if you shifted your eyes just so. That’s what this was like, as strange as it seems. One moment all I could see was a faint haze in the air, like smoke trapped low to the ground on a cool morning. The next moment, I saw it — the body of a young woman.

  My body. Bloody and contorted, soaked to the skin and tangled in water weeds. My body, as
it would have looked if Kian had succeeded in throwing me off the top of the falls.

  Leaves crunched under my foot, and Aleida whirled, training her wand on me. The way she fixed her gaze on me gave me an idea of what it must feel like to be a mouse. Her intent, unwavering stare was like a hunting beast. Her pupils were huge, swallowing up almost all of the brown in her eyes. Belladonna, I thought. That’s how it got the name — somehow, huge pupils were supposed to make a girl beautiful? It never made sense to me.

  ‘Aleida?’ I said. ‘It’s me. It’s Dee, it really is.’

  She blinked and squinted, as though it was hard to focus. ‘Well, of course you’d say that,’ she hissed. She tried to back away from me, only to stumble. Out of reflex I started forward, only for her to raise her wand with a hiss. ‘Stay back.’

  I stopped where I was, hands raised. ‘It is me. But it’s all right if you don’t believe me. I’ll just stay here. I won’t move a muscle. Aleida, are you all right?’

  She looked weary, with dark circles under her eyes. ‘Belladonna,’ she said. ‘Delirium. Confusion. Agitation. Dysphoria. Racing heart, dry mouth. Irritability and wandering thoughts. Hallucination and visual disturbance.’

  ‘Right,’ I said. ‘So, all in all, a normal day at Black Oak Cottage?’

  She blinked at me. Frowned. And then she smiled. ‘Dee . . .’

  Starting towards me, she stumbled again. I hurried forward and she all but fell against me, wrapping one arm tight around my shoulders. ‘Gods, Dee,’ she said in my ear. ‘Where did you go? I told you to stay.’

  I opened my mouth to reply — but then I saw her. A haze in the air, a wisp of fog and sunlight.

  It was the spectre of an old woman, her face little more than a mask of wrinkled skin over a fleshless skull, white hair bound in a braid as skinny as a rat’s tail, or the lash of a whip, arms and fingers like gnarled twigs, clad in tattered rags. She hovered like a hawk, preparing to dive.