Well of Witches

by J. A. White

  It’s working, Kara thought, a smile breaking across her face. It’s really working!

  “Kara,” Grace said. “You can stop now.”

  She opened her eyes.

  A sizable gap had appeared along the bottom of their cages. With nothing to hold them in place the bars folded outward with ease.

  “We did it,” Kara said. “That was a brilliant idea, Grace.”

  The girls exchanged an unexpected smile before they remembered their history together and looked away.

  “We have to hurry,” Taff said, nodding toward the Faceless. Their skin was completely regrown now, and they were all twitching like soon-to-burst chrysalides. There wasn’t enough room between the cages for the three children to slip out at the same time, so Kara had to wait for Taff and Grace to make their exit before crawling free. They crept past the Faceless, Grace leaning on Kara’s shoulder to avoid scratching the ground with her cane. Although an inviting paper horizon beckoned the escapees forward, Kara stopped at the place where the Faceless had tethered the creatures they used for transportation.

  “What are you doing?” Grace asked. “We need to keep moving! We can find a boat by the river. Lose them.”

  “We’ll never make it. And we can’t outrun them on foot.”

  “And you can’t get these rustle-feet to do your bidding,” Grace said. “Not without wasting a side of the grimoire page.”

  Kara smiled.

  “I don’t need magic to get animals to like me.”

  She crossed over to the first rustle-foot she saw. Its amber eyes, deep-set within folds of hooded skin, watched her with curiosity. The rustle-foot’s long body was segmented into five bulbous parts, allowing it to carry a like amount of riders, but its neck had been tethered to a hook so tightly that it could barely lift its head off the ground. Kara stroked behind its leathery ears and unhooked the rope fastened around its neck. The creature, more surprised than anything, made a sound like a baby’s rattle.

  “Good morning, beautiful one,” Kara whispered in the rustle-foot’s ear. “My name is Kara. I wish I had more of a chance to introduce myself, but time grows short. We’d like a ride. Do you think that would be all right with you?”

  The rustle-foot rose to its full height and shimmied back and forth. It repeated the rattling sound, louder this time.

  “I like the way you talk,” Kara whispered. “May I have the honor of giving you a name? How about . . . Rattle?”

  Kara’s voice calmed the creature. She held her hand to its nose and it sniffed her open palm greedily.

  “Why aren’t we leaving?” Taff asked.

  “She’s afraid that if she helps us she’s going to get punished. I need a moment to convince her otherwise.”

  One of the Faceless rose to its feet and looked in their direction. It placed a hand on the masked creatures to its right and left. Both stood. Their neck-arms began to rotate.

  “Stop messing around, Kara!” Grace said. “Just tell the giant caterpillar we need to move or we’re all going to get punished.”

  “Set the other creatures free,” Kara said. “We need a distraction.”

  Grace crossed her arms. “I am not touching those things.”

  “I always knew you were bad,” said Taff, “but I didn’t realize you were such a girl.”

  He set to untethering the rest of the beasts, and Grace, with a grunt of exasperation, began to help. Kara continued to rub Rattle’s flank. Paper rope had been coiled so thickly around its torso that it was difficult to make out the other legs pinned to its sides, but the pain in the rustle-foot’s eyes was crystal clear. “Look what they’ve done to you,” Kara said. “You poor, marvelous creature. No wonder you’re afraid. But you don’t need to trust me. I know that’s too much to ask. Trust yourself. They can’t punish you if they can’t catch you.” Kara placed her hands on Rattle’s face and gazed directly into its eyes. “I just want to go along for the ride.”

  The rustle-foot rattled faster than ever and lay flat on its belly, allowing Kara to mount it. Grace quickly did the same, wrapping her arms around Kara’s stomach, with Taff taking the rear.

  They took off.

  As the parchment landscape began to blur past them, Kara risked a glance over her shoulder. The Faceless camp was in complete disarray. Four of the monsters were chasing the errant rustle-feet, trying to grab on to their whipping tethers with little success, while the fifth Faceless stood in place and watched Kara depart. Its long arms were folded behind its back in an unsettling show of calmness, but its neck-arms rotated to fashion a new mask over its face: oval-shaped with a gaping black hole at its center.

  The Faceless screamed, a thunderous roar that shook the ground and echoed throughout the Well. Rattle stumbled, and Kara, who had thrown her hands over her ears, would have fallen had Grace not straightened her.

  “What was that?” Kara asked.

  “What do you think? It just called for help. We need to hide.”

  Where? Kara thought, scanning the horizon. She saw nothing but flat emptiness. When she turned to her right, however, she saw hazy outlines in the distance. She thought, at first, that these were Pages, or hills, or maybe just large boulders, but as Kara’s eyes focused she realized she was mistaken.

  They were buildings.

  Back when this was Phadeen that must have been some sort of town, a place where students could purchase food and new clothes and magical ingredients for their spells. Kara’s face brightened. There will be pantries there. Cellars. Storehouses.

  Places to hide.

  Leaning forward, she put her arms around Rattle’s neck and turned it toward the buildings, whispering, “Faster! Faster!” into its ear. The creature grunted in pain as it struggled to follow her command. If only it could use all its legs, Kara thought. She tried to unknot the bindings around its torso without any luck. The material looked like paper but was as strong as sailors’ rope.

  Grace, seeing the approaching town, gripped Kara tightly and exclaimed, “No! We can’t go there! That’s where they—”

  Swish-swish-swish.

  A large group of mounted Faceless was approaching on Kara’s left. Almost all of them wore forest-green masks with black spirals painted on the foreheads. The sole exception was a Faceless much larger than the others, its face covered by a gleaming red mask. This was, apparently, the only mask it needed; the six other ones had been torn from its neck-arms and impaled on the giant antlers sprouting from its head.

  Kara spurred Rattle onward. The swishing sound of the other rustle-feet remained just behind them, with Redmask—as Kara decided to call the antlered Faceless—at the head of the procession.

  They quickly halved the distance to the buildings, allowing Kara to make out some details. The ancient structures were composed entirely of yellowing parchment, except for the occasional stone column or glass window that had somehow escaped the transformative powers of the Well. It won’t be possible to hide anymore, at least not right away, but maybe we can lose them in the streets somehow. . . .

  Grace screamed.

  Redmask had managed to drive its rustle-foot next to them, reach across the gap between the mounts, and grab Grace’s arm. Taff pounded the five jointed scrolls of its hand and tried to pry them off, but they were as strong as iron. Kara felt Grace start to slide away. In just a few seconds Redmask would pull her off altogether.

  “Kara! Do something!”

  Half rising from her seat, Kara twisted toward their assailant, hooked her fingers through the eyeholes of its red mask, and snapped her wrist back hard. The mask flew off. Kara caught a glimpse of maggot white before the Faceless covered its real face in shame and stopped chasing them entirely.

  “Took you long enough,” Grace murmured.

  “You’re welcome.”

  Kara turned her attention back toward the rapidly approaching town and gasped in surprise.

  There were Faceless everywhere. They filled the streets and stood in open doorways. A few held long spears wi
th curved blades at the ends.

  “I don’t understand,” Kara said. “Why are they all here?”

  “They live here,” Grace said. “That’s what I was trying to tell you. Not that you listened.”

  A phalanx of Faceless marched out and encircled them. Rattle weaved back and forth, awaiting further orders, but Kara saw no point in trying to escape. Their enemies were too many, and the poor rustle-foot would only get hurt. Kara slid to the ground, Grace and Taff right behind her.

  The crowd parted and Redmask stepped into the circle. Its body tensed with fury as it grabbed a spear from the nearest Faceless and walked toward Kara.

  “It was her idea to run!” exclaimed Grace. “I tried to stop them. . . .”

  Kara gritted her teeth, expecting Redmask to raise its spear and strike her down. It walked right past her. She felt a rush of relief, but this was short-lived once she turned and saw Redmask’s true target. “Don’t!” she screamed, but the spear was already whipping through the air. Rattle wailed in pain and slumped to the ground. The Faceless hit it again. Again. Again. Kara was thankful to see that Redmask had not attacked the rustle-foot with the sharp end of the spear, but the wounds were still grievous. The paper strips bound about its torso darkened with blood.

  Kara dodged two guards and ran to Rattle’s side.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, placing a hand behind its leathery ears. “I never meant for you to get hurt.”

  The rustle-foot rattled softly and nuzzled her hand.

  Redmask pulled Kara away and tossed her to the ground. Though its expression was hidden beneath the mask, Kara was certain it was smiling. She felt a dark, murderous rage bubbling up inside of her.

  “You shouldn’t have hurt her,” Kara said.

  Redmask mounted Rattle, causing another wail of pain. One of its back legs dragged unnaturally as the rustle-foot struggled forward, spurred onward with merciless whips of the spear. Kara herself was pulled away by two Faceless and slung, like a sack of grain, over the back of a different rustle-foot, this one smelling like a moldy stump. Her wrists and ankles were bound. Kara felt a tugging at the back of her cloak and then a sudden weight. She was unable to see it, her face buried in bristly fur, but she knew what it was.

  They just attached a ring and the paper strips.

  Taff and Grace were soon hung upside down beside her. The rustle-foot started to move.

  “Where are they taking us?” Kara asked.

  Grace’s face was even paler than usual.

  “The Changing Place. They’re going to make us like them. And there’s nothing we can do to stop it.”

  As they rode through town, bulbous-eyed Faceless lined the road, popping their scrolled fingers in what might have been their version of applause. Parchment houses lined the streets, along with a large building that Kara took to be a library. A circle of stones, now cocooned in paper, held the memory of meditative reading and quiet conversation. Long ago, before grimoires and Spellfires and Whisperers, this had been a pretty place.

  They came to a sudden stop on the outskirts of town. Good thing it wasn’t far, Kara thought, for hanging upside down off the side of the rustle-foot had already begun to make her head feel heavy and strange. She twisted her neck to take stock of their new location but could see only the backs of tightly pressed bodies. Most were Faceless, but there were a small collection of red-robed witches as well. They gave Kara a cursory glance and then returned their attention to something beyond her view.

  Using a hooked spear, a short Faceless—perhaps no more than a child—cut Kara’s hands and feet free and pulled her to the ground like shoddy cargo. Kara’s wrists were only chafed, but her feet had gone completely numb during the journey. She pushed herself into a sitting position and rubbed feeling into them.

  “Why’s it so crowded?” Kara asked.

  “These particular witches have all gotten paper strips recently,” Grace said, her hands shaking slightly as she undid the bow in her hair and then retied it neatly in place. “They’ve been brought here to witness what will happen if they don’t fall in line. As for the Faceless . . . they always congregate when a Change takes place, like the way the villagers back home gathered together to celebrate a new birth.”

  Grace tried to stand, but without a staff to lean on she was forced to place all her weight on her good leg and wobbled as she rose. Taff slid to his right so that she could use his shoulder for support. Neither one acknowledged the assistance, though Kara thought she saw the slightest glint of gratitude in Grace’s eyes.

  “How did they know we were coming?” Kara asked.

  “They’re not here for us, though I’m sure they’ll stay now that they’ve made the journey,” Grace said. She pointed past the crowd. “See? We’re not the first ones being sent into the Changing Place today.”

  Though her feet were still prickling her with pins and needles, Kara managed to rise.

  Past the crowd, Kara saw a woman being led up a short flight of stairs to a dark tunnel. Faceless kept pace to either side of her, but the woman did not seem likely to resist; she walked with the resigned footsteps of one who had long ago accepted her fate. Behind her a train of paper strips dragged along the steps. She turned back to the crowd, as though wanting to see the world through her own eyes one last time, and then vanished into the darkness.

  “Landra,” Kara said, recognizing the old woman they had seen on the barge. “I guess she got her final strip.”

  The guards made their way to the base of the steps and stood with spears held across their chests, though there seemed little point; no one had any desire to follow the unfortunate woman. Time, which always passed so strangely in the Well, squeezed to a trickle. All was silent. Kara did, however, catch some of the witches’ thoughts skittering along the ground: Let’s see if she takes longer than Karin to Change. I’ll never let this happen to me. Whatever they want, whatever they want, whatever they want . . .

  The Faceless shed no thoughts at all.

  Taff gripped her wrist.

  “The turtle!” he gasped.

  “What?”

  “Look at the building! Look at it!”

  Kara craned her neck to see past the milling witches to the building beyond them. From the main entrance a long paper tunnel, like the comb of a giant wasp nest, curved along the ground to a small dome in the distance. Its paper roof was the same color as the sky except for a stubborn hexagonal tile, shockingly green against all that sameness.

  With a sharp intake of breath, Kara remembered the drawing in Sordyr’s letter.

  “The queth’nondra,” she said.

  “The who?” asked Grace.

  “A long time ago, the Well of Witches used to be part of a school for magic,” Kara said. “That building was where students took their final test. Those who passed became full wexari.”

  But this is the Changing Place. The source of all the Faceless. How could such a good place become so evil? Or is that the point? The greater the good, the greater it can be corrupted?

  “What’s a wexari?” Grace asked.

  Kara shook her head. “Never mind.” Looking at the building again, she couldn’t help but smile. “It does look like a turtle.”

  “I wish Safi were here to see it,” Taff said. He looked down, perhaps wondering if he would ever see his friend again. Kara was on the verge of offering some comforting words when Landra exited the tunnel. Some of the witches gasped. There was even a single, quickly muffled scream. But the primary noise was from the Faceless, who popped their fingers in jubilation.

  Landra’s face was a taut, flat parchment from which all features had been erased. She tottered down the steps where Faceless wrapped her almost tenderly with paper strips. These immediately adhered to her body like new skin. The Faceless fawned over the seven nubs protruding from Landra’s neck like parents over a baby’s smile.

  I guess it takes longer to grow a mask-arm than erase a face, Kara thought. Despite the warm, stale air she felt as cold as ice.r />
  That’s what’s going to happen to me. That’s what I’m going to become.

  Two Faceless guards pushed through the crowd and headed in the children’s direction. At first Kara thought they were coming for her, but at the last moment they veered toward a different target. “Get off!” Grace screamed, clawing at their paper arms as they dragged her toward the stairs. “Not this! Please! I don’t want to Change! I don’t want to be a monster!” Taff tried to intervene but was tossed aside with little effort; the Faceless were far stronger than they looked. “Kara!” shouted Grace. “Kara! Please! I know you can stop them! You won’t let them do this to me! You’re good, Kara, good—”

  The guards came to a sudden halt. In front of them, blocking the entrance to the queth’nondra, stood Redmask. It looked at Grace, shook its head, and pointed to Kara. The two guards exchanged a look, momentarily surprised by this change in routine, but when Redmask took a step toward them they quickly dropped Grace to the ground and started toward Kara.

  “Don’t bother,” she said. “I’ll walk.”

  Kara passed through the parted crowd. Taff tried to reach her but was restrained by a Faceless. “What are you doing?” he asked. “Kara!” She kept moving. It will only make it harder if I stop. And they’ll just drag me inside anyway. Whatever my fate might be, I’ll meet it standing.

  Redmask stood at the bottom of the steps, arms crossed with smug satisfaction. Kara looked away as she passed; she refused to let the foul creature see the fear in her eyes. In the distance the Burngates had grown darker and begun to swell outward like warped boards. Three helixes had risen from the ground nearly high enough to touch the parchment sky. Kara could see tiny figures making their way up the narrow slopes.

  The Burngates will open soon. After that, who knows how long it will be before another witch casts her Last Spell? I won’t get a second chance. I have to escape this place. I have to save Father.

  She stepped forward into the tunnel and the world immediately turned black. Gelatinous air seemed to clutch at Kara, and a warm, slimy substance with the consistency of raw eggs slid up her nostrils and down the canals of her ears. Oxygen was reduced to a teasing dribble. Is this the stuff that makes people Faceless? Is it inside me now? Am I already changing? She kept moving forward, each footstep a struggle. Faded memories were drawn to the forefront of her thoughts like iron filings to a magnet. Images slid by at blinding speed: looking up at her parents from within the folds of a warm blanket, her first steps, Mother’s death, finding the grimoire, their flight from the villagers, the Thickety, the unghosts, Safi’s sacrifice, entering the tunnel just moments ago. Her life was sliced open and exposed, and Kara knew that she was not the only one watching. Something, some entity, studied every moment. She felt the weight of its regard like a face peering over her shoulder, learning every thought and experience, every fear and desire. By the end, it knew more about Kara than she knew about herself.