by Jo Spurrier
‘Is she summoning something from the nether realms?’
She grimaced. And then she slashed a hand through the diagram, breaking it up into motes of light that drifted away and faded out, like sparks rising from a fire.
‘Why would anyone do that?’
‘Good question. Let’s go find out.’
First, she cast a veil over me to hide me from sight. It felt cool as it settled across my face and shoulders, like walking through misty rain.
Then, she had me open a doorway right into Minerva’s cellar.
‘Are you sure?’ I said.
‘Just do it, Dee. Then stay inside, out of the way.’
‘All right, good. If it goes badly I can try to pull you back in.’
Her scowl cut me dead. ‘Lord and Lady, such faith you have in your teacher. Forget it. You’re coming through with me. Open it. Now.’
I opened my mouth to protest, then hastily closed it again before I could make things worse. With her still frowning like thunder, I pressed my palm to the wall and took us into the ruins.
For all the struggles I’d had, all the times I’d tried and failed back home at the cottage, this time it came shockingly easily. I had the trick of it now, it seemed. The rock melted and flowed away, like a skin of ice melting from a pond. For the barest instant we could see the witch at work — the lion lay on the huge stone slab at one end of the room, lifeless and still. Minerva had her back to us, bent over the corpse with a knife in her hands, skinning the great beast.
The moment Aleida stepped through the portal, Minerva went stiff. Then, she spun and hurled the knife straight towards us.
With a wave of her hand, Aleida caught it in a net of force, like a spider’s web woven from glowing strands. The knife hung there for a fraction of a second, spinning in place, and then shattered into a hundred gleaming fragments that shot towards Minerva like a swarm of wasps.
Flinging up her hands, Minerva cast her own net to catch the shards, but then stumbled back as Aleida followed them with a blast of fire. From somewhere above, beyond the stone walls, I heard an animal roar of fury and the sound of a beast throwing against its chain, but when I took a few quick steps towards the door, ready to cast a fireball of my own, there was no sign of any beast coming to her aid. Of course not, I told myself. She’s got them chained up tight.
I pressed myself against the wall, clutching my wand as I felt Minerva calling in power, her face twisted in a snarl and her hands curled like claws. She spat a word, something that grated and rasped against my ears, and loosed a blast of wind. I felt the edge of it, and its touch was like a howling gale of sand and grit.
Aleida threw up a hand to shield her face, but the blast of air set her aglow — like when air from a bellows blasting into a forge casts up sparks from the fire, this blast of scouring wind stripped a thousand sparks and embers from her form. It tore away the spell she’d cast to give herself human feet, and she staggered, dropping to one knee, the hairy dog’s feet that Gyssha’s death-curse had given her in clear view beneath the hem of her skirt.
‘Oho,’ Minerva laughed, her voice rasping and coarse. ‘Someone got you, didn’t they? They got you good.’
Aleida forced a smile as she heaved herself up again. ‘Not as good as I got her.’ Then, Aleida’s form blurred, just as it had when she’d cast an illusion to draw the griffin away just a few hours ago.
Minerva hesitated, power flaring at her hands. Her eyes darted around the room, anywhere but at the figure before her. She’d been watching, I realised. Aleida had suggested as much, but this confirmed it — when the beasts had attacked us, Minerva had been watching through some creature’s eyes. She’d seen Aleida pull this move before, seen her use an illusion of herself to draw her target away and was searching for the real witch, hidden somewhere under a veil.
But while she searched, Aleida’s figure circled around her, step by step. I could see her, just barely, a faint spectre. I wan’t sure how, or why — perhaps because we were kin in the craft? Aleida raised her left hand, and I felt power thicken the air.
The red-haired witch felt it too. With a snarl she held her hand out to the dead lion, palm up, and sharply raised it. ‘Up.’
The dead beast on the slab began to stir, that huge head lifting sluggishly from the stone as it heaved itself up on cold, dead paws. ‘Find her,’ Minerva ordered the beast.
The sight of it stole my breath away, making my belly churn. The lion had been terrifying enough when it was hale and whole. This was worse — so much worse. Lord and Lady, she’d already gutted the thing.
I was so fixed on the awful sight, I didn’t notice something stirring over Minerva’s head. Neither did she — until thick, ropy vines plunged from the roof to seize her.
She tried to throw herself down, but it was too late — like an insect in a spider’s web, she was caught fast. Vines — or were they roots? — twined around her arms, while another reached down to tear her wand from her hand, and yet another quested down to coil around her neck. As Minerva fought and clawed at them, the lion settled back to the slab, the animating force draining away.
The vines grew tighter and tighter, wrenching her arms back, winding around her ribs, choking off her breath. ‘Blackbone,’ she hissed. ‘I know it’s you! What are you playing at? Haven’t I done as you bade me? Haven’t I—’
I lost whatever else she said when a movement in the rafters caught my eye — something sleek and shimmering gliding along the moist and rotting beams. The viper! Had I even mentioned that to Aleida when I told her what I’d seen down here? I thought I had, but suddenly I was by no means sure.
And it was too late, now. The snake was right over her head and with mouth agape and fangs gleaming, it dropped right down upon her.
Aleida flinched and cursed as it sank those long teeth into her neck, right where it met her shoulder, and writhed, coiling its gleaming length around her neck as it bit again and again. Minerva’s face turned to stone as Aleida gave a hiss of pain, and pulled the snake away, tearing it loose from her skin and gripping it in her fist. ‘Tell your little familiar to calm itself,’ she spat to Minerva. ‘Or I’ll wring its blasted neck.’
With those words I saw the older witch’s face change. For an instant, her eyes widened — and then her expression seemed to soften, just a little. In it I saw something strange, something that seemed very out of place. Surprise, and maybe . . . relief? She blinked at Aleida, and said, ‘You’re not Gyssha.’
The words seemed to hit Aleida like a blow, and she took a half-step back. Then, she lifted her chin. ‘I should hope not,’ she said, while the snake curled around her wrist, mouth gaping wide and the wickedly curving fangs dripping with venom. ‘I said, call him off!’
Minerva clicked her tongue and, grudgingly, the little snake closed its mouth. It really was a beautiful creature — its body was only a little thicker than my thumb, and it was covered in odd ridged and pointed scales that made it look bristled rather than sleek and smooth.
‘Gyssha would have broken his neck without a word of warning,’ Minerva said. ‘So who are you? I know you’re a Blackbone, I can smell it, and if you were anything else you’d be frothing at the mouth and twitching on the floor right now, thanks to my friend. So where’s your mistress, girl?’
‘In the ground, where she belongs,’ Aleida snapped. ‘What does she have to do with any of this?’
For a moment the two witches stared at each other in silence. ‘If Gyssha didn’t send you, then what in the hells are you doing here?
‘What am I doing here? I was just passing through, minding my own godsdamn business, when you decided to set your beasts on me and try to kill my apprentice. So what in the hells are you doing here?’
There was another long, silent moment. Then, Minerva cleared her throat. ‘Truce?’
Aleida dabbed at the bloody snakebite on her neck with her sleeve, and then shrugged. ‘Yeah. All right.’
Aleida released the vines, and set the snake o
n the floor. The little snake swiftly returned to his mistress, slithering up her arm to coil around her neck beneath the mass of her faded red hair. He really was a beautiful creature, his scales coloured in red and orange, yellow and pink. He peered out at us, tasting the air with a flickering tongue.
Aleida had dispelled the veil she’d cast on me, and at my sudden appearance Minerva reacted with only mild surprise. ‘Huh. Thought I’d killed the lass.’
‘Mm, nearly. Wasn’t me that sent her in here, I’ll have you know. Little twit pulled that trick all by herself.’
‘Hmph. She any good?’
My teacher waved the question away with a flick of her hand. ‘She’s green as grass. Maybe that walloping you gave her will shape her up a bit. Time will tell.’
That smarted. More than a bit, if I’m honest, and what was worse was that I couldn’t refute it. I felt myself flushing, and my cheeks grew hotter still when Minerva laughed a dry cackle. ‘Drink?’
‘Sure. What have you got?’
‘I don’t know what it’s called, whatever rotgut it is they brew around these parts. You, girl,’ she jerked her head in my direction. ‘Go fetch it from upstairs. Green glass bottle.’
I wasn’t sure how to take that. I glanced at Aleida, and she gave me a nod.
I suppose that meant I had to do as I was told. I headed up the stairs, stepping carefully around the slippery moss and the pools of drying blood.
The hovel Minerva had cobbled together from the ruins looked no better through human eyes. The furs and rags of her bed still reeked, and the bones of rabbits and chickens, discarded from meals, didn’t smell too sweet either. I stole a quick peek outside through the broken doorway, and saw the bear chained up near the front gate, swaying uneasily from side to side. There was a nasty, gaping cut across his face where one of the bandits had slashed him with a sword, but aside from that there were no major wounds. The other bandits had called him Brute, I remembered, though Kara said his real name was Brent. But whatever name he went by, Kara’s da was safe enough, for now.
There were a few empty bottles scattered amid the refuse on the floor, but I found a full one tucked in next to the reeking bed, and brought it back downstairs.
‘Seen you before, haven’t I?’ Minerva was saying. ‘A few years ago.’
‘Yeah,’ Aleida said. ‘Oretham, I think it was. Maybe eight years ago? I was just an apprentice.’ The wound on her neck was barely bleeding now. There was a purplish stain around it, like an old bruise, but the mark was already fading. I’ve got poison in my veins, she’d told me once, and I guessed that meant she was invulnerable to the viper’s venom, too.
Minerva grunted again as I offered her the bottle. She waved it towards Aleida. ‘Guests first, that’s what Granny Wormwood always said. I’d offer to prove it’s not poisoned, but you bein’ a Blackbone, it wouldn’t make any difference.’ They were lounging against the slab where the lion lay, a sad, discarded husk. Even knowing the sort of man he’d been in life, I still couldn’t bring myself to say he deserved this fate, turned into a beast and then slaughtered in this desolate ruin.
Aleida took the bottle and pulled the cork out to take a swig. Then, she held it out to me.
I wanted to refuse. These witches had been doing their best to kill each other not five minutes ago, and now we were all standing around a dead man-beast-thing in a crumbling cellar set up for some sinister summoning ritual, having a drink together? It made no sense at all. I didn’t much like the smell wafting from the bottle, either. It was a strong herbal scent; and I don’t mean the savoury kind of herbs you’d use for cooking, but the sharp, bitter herbs from one of our medicinal brews.
But from the look in Aleida’s eye I didn’t dare argue. And I could kind of see her point, too; it’d be rude to refuse Minerva’s hospitality, even after the fighting. Or perhaps more so because of it.
I took a swig, and immediately coughed and choked as the fiery stuff seared my throat.
Minerva fair doubled over cackling as she took the bottle from me. ‘Ne’er mind, lass. It’ll put hairs on your chest.’
Scowling, I held my tongue. It had been a long time since I’d had to just stand there and take it while someone prattled a load of horseshit about me, I realised. I’d fallen rather out of practice.
Whatever amusement I afforded her soon lost its sheen, it seemed, for she turned her attention back to Aleida, and the bottle as well. ‘So the old hag really is dead? I see she got in a couple of good hits on the way out. Death-curse, was it?’
‘Nothing all that serious,’ Aleida said. ‘I got you beat, didn’t I? But it seemed like you were expecting her to pay a call. What’s she got to do with all this?’
Minerva pursed her lips as she looked over the ritual. ‘It’s not your concern, girl. You ought to leave well enough alone.’
‘If anyone’s going to come looking for her, I want to know,’ Aleida said. ‘We’ve already had some trouble with deals she set up before I put her out of our misery. I’d sooner be forewarned.’
Minerva grimaced. ‘You ought to know the old hag better than anyone. She always had plans afoot. And she told me the next time I saw her she’d be wearing a different face. But if you don’t know what she was brewing up, you’d do better to keep it that way. I heard you ran off on her and I’m guessing you found some rock to hide under — if I was you, I’d go back to it. Keep your head down and wait for the storm to blow over. That’s what I’m planning to do, once this work is done.’
‘What storm? And what work is this, exactly?’
Minerva glowered at her. ‘I’ll thank you not to get in my way, girl. What I’m doing here is my own business.’
‘“I’ve done as you bade me”, isn’t that what you said? Gyssha was behind this. I just want to know what this is.’
‘You’re just vowed and determined to make a rod for your own back, ain’t you?’
‘I’m a Blackbone, I’m not afraid of trouble. Or I wouldn’t be here right now, would I?’
I wasn’t sure if she was talking about killing Gyssha or facing Minerva here in the mouldering cellar. Either option seemed to apply.
‘Fine,’ Minerva said with a toss of her head. ‘It’s your funeral. I was off in the Northlands, minding my own godsdamn business when the Blackbone tracked me down. Now I weren’t fool enough to try to fight her, and I sure as hells ain’t silly enough to fight two of ’em. I thought they were just going to kill me, but instead they gave me a blasted compulsion to work this ritual and then swanned off again.’
Aleida frowned at her in puzzlement. ‘Wait . . . what?’
‘You hard of hearing, girl?’
‘This ritual?’
‘I know. It’s not like either of them couldn’t do it with half the effort, but no. They wanted me to do it for them, and backed it up with a curse that’s more than I can dispel. So here I am, like a good little worker bee, buzzing away.’
Aleida pinched the bridge of her nose. ‘Wait, you said two of them. Who else? Gyssha and . . . who?’
Minerva looked down, picking at her filthy yellow nails.
‘What?’ Aleida said. ‘Scared to say it?’
‘You don’t want to know, girl.’
‘I’m asking, aren’t I?’
‘You’re a fool, is what you are.’ She hesitated, sucking air between her teeth. ‘It was Mae.’
Aleida shifted her weight, leaning back as she drew a sharp breath. ‘Mae? Mae?’
‘You heard me. I ain’t saying it again.’
‘But . . . that doesn’t make any sense.’
‘Nothing about her makes sense,’ Minerva said. ‘You ever meet her, lass?’
Aleida shook her head. ‘Gods, no. We crossed paths a few times, but I never met her. The last time I saw hide or hair of her, she and Gyssha were trying to kill each other. And now they’ve been working together? What in the hells?’
‘I don’t know,’ I muttered. ‘Seems to be about normal in these parts.’
Aleida chortled at that. Minerva, too, laughing in a dry cackle. ‘Little girl has a lot to learn.’
‘She does. If she lives long enough. But seriously, Mae? What’s she playing at?’
‘Damned if I know. And trust me, I wasn’t about to go asking questions. I got more sense than to stick my nose where it don’t concern me, unlike some I could name . . . Actually, might be you have a point in wantin’ to know. Might be that when Mae realises that Gyssha ain’t around, she’ll come looking to see what became of her.’
‘Mm,’ Aleida said, her voice flat. ‘That did cross my mind.’
Minerva rolled her shoulders and pushed off the stone slab. ‘Well, Blackbone? You came to settle the score for your lass there, and you got some news out of it to boot. Got what you wanted? ’Cause I got work to do.’
Aleida leaned back against the slab with a sigh. ‘There is one more thing. The beast you’ve got up there. The bear.’
‘What about ’im?’
‘Would you trade for him?’
‘Eh? Why? Why would you want ’im?’
Aleida looked away with a shrug. ‘There’s this girl, his daughter. She’s been trying to find him for months now, and here I see you’ve got him chained up outside. She’s got no other kin.’
‘A girl?’ Minerva squinted across at her. ‘How old?’
‘Sixteen or so.’
‘Sixteen?’ Minerva said, her voice dripping with scorn. ‘If she were twelve, maybe I’d see your point, but sixteen? More than old enough to fly the nest. She don’t need him.’
I felt my mouth opening. I saw Aleida’s gaze flick my way, warning me to silence, but it was too late. ‘And how old were you when you went out on your own?’
Minerva’s strangely pale eyes caught mine, and I felt them boring into me. ‘Seven or eight,’ she said. ‘I forget exactly. Not your father, is he, lass?’
I shook my head.
‘Forget the why of it,’ Aleida said. ‘What would you take for him? Maybe we can find a price. Black Oak is mine now, I’ve got the orchard, the gardens . . . or more bodies? By my count you’re a few short to finish the ritual.’