The Black Witch

by Robert D. Jones

  "I am sorry, Isolde," he said clasping onto his wooden pipe.

  "What for?" she asked.

  "I promised that I would keep you protected. That you would both be fine. I failed you."

  "Will he live?" she asked.

  "He will, but he needs time to heal. He lost a lot of blood but he is strong, and he is lucky."

  He turned his head to Isolde and motioned for her to sit with him.

  "It is over now, Isolde."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I mean it is over. You've slept two whole days, and Wulfric and I have spoken at length in that time. He told me about the ravens and the whisper. She is calling for you... the Black Witch is regaining her strength. I can feel it."

  "Then we need to finish her once and for all!" she exclaimed.

  "It is too dangerous, Isolde. We are too few. She whispers your name." His eyes glanced left and right into the woods, "she is calling you. Don't you understand? The ravens, they taunted the name of your mother. You must take Harald home and go into hiding."

  Isolde's head was full of questions, "I don't understand."

  "There are secrets, Isolde. Dark deeds long held in silence." Skaldi drew on his pipe slowly, "too long perhaps. When your mother and father drove Orlog into the wastes all those years ago, it came at a price... a curse..."

  "Curse?" she stammered with wide eyes.

  "Your mother broke the witch's power. But Orlog did not go gently into the night. She is not human, Isolde. Not anymore. I do not know what happened. That fiend disappeared and before long dark whispers came to me from the wastes. A power had been born there. I paid the rumours no thought until the day of your birth." He cast his eyes down, "I cannot utter the things she said in her last hours. You were brought into the world with love, Isolde, but your mother paid through pain."

  "Was it Orlog?" she whispered.

  "I couldn't be sure. I searched the wastes looking for signs but found none. Your father and I took you as an infant to the druids of Heroth Nuir. The seer showed me things I thought impossible. Evil I can find no words to describe. But it was clear that the Black Witch had struck your mother down with some silent malice. Orlog cursed your mother to the grave."

  Anger seethed under Isolde's skin, through gritted teeth she said, "then I must avenge her."

  "Only if you wish to sacrifice Harald in doing so," Skaldi sighed, "he needs you now more than ever."

  She threw her face into her hands, "what do I do?"

  "You go home, Isolde. You take Harald and you wait for me."

  "You're not coming with us?" she asked.

  "I am sorry, Isolde. I would not leave unless I had too."

  "Why?"

  Skaldi sighed, his shoulders were slumped forward, Isolde thought he looked broken.

  "I did not know that Hrothgar's barbarity had come so far," he said, "if what Erik has told me is true then I may be too late already. I must make for Ravenscar at once."

  The words seemed to fall out of Skaldi's mouth with heaviness like he resented the fact that he had said them at all. But Isolde's mind burned with the memories of her forced march and the small raider's rotten teeth. She shuddered.

  "I want to kill them," she said.

  "You cannot think that way, Isolde," Skaldi said calmly, "war may very well be on our doorstep and you will rue the day you thought there was glory in death."

  Isolde sighed and Skaldi went on, "Orlog's return seems to be part of a bigger picture. Hrothgar has eyes for the south. His men are on the move. The gods are angry, the spirits are alive again. The world may return to darkness unless we do something."

  Skaldi got up and walked away as Isolde buried her hands into her face with frustration. Her mind fought with the ideas of going on for glory and keeping Harald alive. I knew he would be a curse, she felt guilt well up as soon as she thought it.

  "Maybe there is another way," said a voice.

  Isolde looked up, it was the blonde youth, Erik, finding his way to his feet. He looked deep into her eyes with a smile that sent goose-pimples across her skin.

  CHAPTER IX

  The group stayed in the camp for two more nights before Harald stirred. Skaldi was still with them, but Wulfric had taken off as soon as he woke. Isolde had spent the time fretting about Harald's welfare while spending time alone with Erik. She couldn't keep herself away from him, he was as tall as Harald but a little thinner, wiry she thought, and better on his feet too. His shaggy blonde hair fell down past his shoulders and was kept back by a thin leather band. His smile was perfect, and his slate grey eyes brightened when he looked at her. It sent her heart into a flurry. Erik's face was youthful but held a thin stubble barely visible against his swarthy skin. But she was wary of his two companions, Sven and Bjorn. They were twins and could hardly be torn apart. Tall and thin, long black hair and dark eyes that jittered from place to place in an ever watchful alertness. They whispered to each other in the northern tongue and always fell silent when she walked by. But Erik vouched for them.

  "They're good guys, Isolde," he would say with that smile, "farmers fleeing from the north. They just want to live like everyone else."

  But Isolde didn't trust them, she preferred the company of Erik anyway.

  He came to her in the middle of the night. She woke to the gentle rocking of his hand on her shoulder.

  "You have to come see this," he whispered with glowing eyes and a smile that stretched his soft lips. It made her feel happy.

  She climbed out of her tent and Erik led her by the hand into the woods nearby. His grip was firm and his hands warm in the chill night air.

  "Where are you taking me?" she asked under her breath.

  "You have to see, it is so beautiful."

  He guided her down a little ravine where a stream flowed freely out the rocky entrance of a dark stone hollow. It trickled down into a deep pool ringed with lush ferns and white lilies in full bloom. Erik held her close from behind as she stood in awe. The full moon was bloody tonight, its reflection being shattered into a million shards from the rippling pool.

  "I was alone here thinking about everything," he said, pulling her closer into his body, "and the moon's beauty reminded me of you."

  "Is that so?" she giggled coyly, but inside her heart raced in excitement.

  "It is," he hummed pulling her tighter still, but she wriggled free and took his hands so that she could see his eyes.

  "And what was it that you were thinking?"

  His smile was infectious, she couldn't help but smile back.

  Erik sighed, "I don't want to ruin this moment."

  This time the smile was hers, "you can't ruin it, Erik. Tell me, please?"

  He let her hands go and rubbed his face, maybe she had gone too far.

  "I know how we can go on."

  Isolde gasped in hope, "how?"

  "By leaving Harald behind and finding Orlog on our own," he sighed again.

  Isolde's heart sunk, "I can't."

  "I know you can't," he said, "it's why I didn't want to say anything. And now you probably think I'm heartless. It's just, I know Bjorn and Sven, they need to see your father anyway. They could get him home in a few days, he would recover, and we could find this witch and kill her."

  Isolde couldn't find the words for a reply. Her heart wanted to say yes, she didn't want to go home and why should Harald's weaknesses stop her. But her mind flooded with guilt at the thought, she owed her life to him.

  "Look," Erik said changing the subject. He was pointing down at a little green frog swimming across the blood moon's reflection in the water.

  "That's cute," she smiled before pointing out another. It wriggled its way out of the rocky hole and plopped itself into the pond with a splash.

  "Another!" Erik said amazed as a third came through.

  The pair watched as a fourth and fifth wriggled free of the earth before a sixth and seventh. The water stopped trickling and frog after frog fought at the mouth of the rocks to leap into the po
ol below. They congested and ripped at each other for freedom. Frogs flowed out filling the pool in a seething mass of movement.

  Isolde's heart raced, "this isn't right."

  "Look!" Erik nearly screamed, his finger pointing up at the ridge above.

  Deep red eyes bore down at them like mirrors of the blood moon. A figure shrouded in shadows between the trees.

  "It's her!" Isolde shrieked.

  The pair dashed over the pool and scrambled up the slope but the shadow had vanished into thin air like smoke. All that remained was the horned skull of a ram spinning freely in the air. It had been tied to a branch high above. The eye sockets blackened by fire and the sigil of three crescent moons, horns outward, had been deeply cut into the bony forehead.

  Isolde wheeled around and screamed into the night, "Fight me you hag!"

  The ribbiting of frogs and the silent air answered her.

  "Fight me!" her scream was cut short.

  The smoky form of a body rushed from the deep shadows. Hellfire eyes burning out in the night. Two arms materialised from the shade and wrapped their claws into Isolde's face. She swung out, but the smoke sucked in her fists and left them sailing through thin air. The eyes burned in rage. Erik hurled his body at it and passed right through tumbling down into the pool below. The cloudy claws dug into Isolde's neck, forcing her to her knees. Her heart raced, her breath cut off. She groped at the hands around her neck but found nothing to pry away. Erik shot back up the hill, his hands full of frogs. The blood eyes snapped at him. His fists clamped shut crushing the frogs into his palms. Without a sound, the smoke faded away and Isolde gulped the cold night air down.

  ***

  The next day, Harald stirred and finally awoke from his long sleep. Skaldi came to him and treated him with herbs and food, making sure that he would survive before his departure.

  It was then that Isolde and Erik came to the old man with the news from the night before.

  "You are sure it was the same markings as that on the lamb?" Skaldi asked her, referring to the plagued animals back in Eyndale.

  "Look for yourself," she said pointing to Bjorn as he played with the skull.

  "You must take everyone home, Isolde." Skaldi's voice was firm, "they call this sort of thing sympathetic magic... She hopes to curse us, to black out our own eyes!"

  "How?" Erik asked sharply.

  Skaldi's eyes were wide when he turned on him, "through belief, my boy. And believe me when I say it. It is time for you all to go home. That trick with the frogs was quick thinking, but she is slippery and won't fool for the same thing twice."

  Bjorn called out, "old wives' tales from an old man."

  "Don't be so foolish," Skaldi said, "there is wisdom in the old tales."

  Skaldi embraced Isolde and held her tightly in the folds of his grey robes.

  "I am sorry," he said with sullen eyes, "but I will return to Eyndale as soon as I can and see what has come of poor Harald."

  He stepped away from her and looked at Isolde and Erik together, "keep your eyes open and look after each other."

  And with that, he slipped off westward into the thick woods.

  Erik turned to Isolde and motioned toward Harald's tent. The smell was overwhelming as if the air around the wounded Harald was infected with rot. He was a wretched sight, Isolde thought that he had lost twenty pounds. His face was gaunt, a pale yellow clinging to his skin. His one eye was dark and bruised but Skaldi had changed the bandages of the other and at least they were clean. Harald was weak but sat up on his own. The introductions were quick and Harald hissed out from his hoarse voice and cracked lips short answers.

  "Will you come with us?" Erik asked full of enthusiasm.

  Harald's words came like bone dry air passing through a parched desert, "I won't leave you." He said, his eye looking at Isolde.

  She smiled at him in pity, "my poor Harald, maybe it is better to meet you back home?"

  "No," he said.

  Isolde could feel the strain on his throat and grimaced at the pain she imagined. She left the tent with Erik who spoke to her in hushed tones,

  "He will die out there, the storms grow wilder further north and he'll freeze to death in the cold."

  "He wants to come," she sighed, "we'll send him home only if we have to."

  She hated saying it, but the words of Skaldi came back into her mind, You just have to decide what is for the best at the time, and sometimes that is only a choice between the lesser of evils. She hoped she was making the right decision. How on earth would Harald survive the journey, she thought, how would he survive Orlog?

  CHAPTER X

  The group had been on the march for days. Harald slowed them little to start with but Isolde could see him struggling the further they went. His face had begun to fill out again but was still yellow and rarely seen looking beyond his feet. His shoulders were slumped as if he were pulling an invisible weight up and down the hills. Erik took Isolde aside from the others more than once in concern.

  The cold autumn forest began to give way to the bitter frosts of the north. The pines grew more sparse and the hills less prominent. Ice formed around the creeks they crossed and the ground itself became powdered with a thin layer of new-born snow. If it weren't for the black skies and the howling winds, Isolde thought the world looked like a winter wonderland. But the weather was relentless, with bitter cold gales that picked up ice and sent silvered slivers flying into their skin.

  "She feels us coming," Erik called to Isolde as they battled headlong into the wind and ice, "the witch has summoned the mighty Mjolkum to blow us away!"

  "How much further?" she called back.

  "The Ice-Lake by tonight, maybe. Then I don't know," Erik said.

  "Harald won't make it."

  "I Will!" Harald cried as he stumbled up to them, "I won't leave you alone with him." His one eye glared up at Erik.

  "Look, Harald," Erik said, "Bjorn is not doing too well either, maybe you can take him back?"

  Isolde looked over to Bjorn and Sven. Erik was right, Bjorn didn't look well, his eyes were dark with exhaustion. The man was slumped against a tree but he waved Erik away as though he had heard what was being said.

  "I am with Isolde," Harald said to Erik, "I will go where she goes."

  "So be it. But I am not carrying you home if this cold takes you," Erik said.

  Isolde was amazed by Harald's strength. He looked like a frozen corpse. The yellow in his face had come out stronger as the life fled from his skin. He had his fur hood wrapped around his head but still, his teeth chattered incessantly. He was struggling, Isolde thought he may even be dying as black blood slowly stained the white linen where his eye should have been.

  "Thank you," she said taking Harald in an embrace. She could feel his body shuddering from the cold.

  By the time they reached the end of the great woods, Harald could barely move. Isolde moved slowly with him and watched as his body went from constant shivers to stillness and then the odd involuntary spasm. She was holding him up and was sure he would collapse without her. They could see the edge of the tree line, the great pine sentinels that guarded the northern borders. They stood magnificently tall, far greater than those in the south and were crowned with the shimmering silver of snow and ice. The others were waiting. Erik and Sven looked out over the summit in which they stood, but Bjorn was slumped against a tree, his head low between his knees.

  "We made it," she said with encouragement to Harald, but he could barely keep his eye open and had no strength to even look up.

  They hobbled up the last slope and she let him down gently against the trunk of one of the great tree guardians in an attempt to block the wind.

  Isolde came to Erik whose hand was held out to the north and she gasped at the view. From atop their slope, they could see the land around them for miles. Their position dropped off into a great plain of white tundra. To the east the mountains climbed up to unfathomable heights, disappearing into the chaos of Mjolkum's sto
rm clouds. To the west, the edge of the forest ran as far as the eye could see, and the great plains stretched out with it and the glistening of a distant river snaking its way over the horizon could just be seen. But the sight in front of her was what took her breath away. The snowy plains extended out in a great barren field for miles until it kissed the white edge of a great lake. Its face sparkled like solid crystal. It was like an endless ocean of ice that climbed right up into the shoulders of the mountains themselves.

  They made their camp in the tundra at the bottom of the slope. The day was fading and the wind there was less harsh. They set their tents to buffer the wind, allowing a fire to be stoked and wrapped Harald up as best they could. Bjorn was struggling, it was only now in the calm of their camp that Isolde could see how bad the man had become. His face was deathly pale, it looked as though the meat had been sucked away and the skin stretched over bare bone. His head was slumped again, his gaze unfocused as though he were living some far off memory. But Isolde knew his mind was vacant. His eyes, they were so void, dark rings spread as though he hadn't slept in weeks. He looked hollow.

  "What is wrong, Bjorn?" she asked across the fire.

  She saw the effort it took for him to lift his head, his eyes wavering to find focus on her.

  "I... I'm... okay," he said slowly in his thick throaty accent.

  "You're not okay," Erik said, "go get some rest."

  Sven got up and helped Bjorn to his tent. Isolde watched them go.

  "They won't make it out here," Erik said to Isolde.

  "What do we do?" she sighed leaning forward to feel the warmth of the fire.

  "We send them home. All three of them."

  "Harald won't go," she said.

  "Tell him too," Erik said, "it's for his own good."

  "Maybe we should all go home."

  Erik shook his head, "we've come too far."