"Help!" came Billy's cry, loud and desperate, waking Robby and Sheila. Ashlord snatched a burning stick from the fireplace and held it up as they all burst through the bedroom door. What they saw astonished them so completely that they were momentarily frozen with fear and horror. During that moment, Billy, who was clutching Ibin under the arms while the big one was thrashing about, screamed, "He's bein' pulled out through that thar knothole!"
In fact, Ibin was already up to his waist into the wall when Ullin and Ashlord and Sheila and Robby leapt forward, and each took hold of Ibin and pulled with all their strength. Back through the knothole he came, and then there appeared those long bony arms clinging to his ankles, provoking more screams of dismay from them all. Robby let go of Ibin and flung out Swyncraff to curl around the hideous arms. Instantly the terrible hands let go, sending the others tumbling backwards into the room. A powerful metallic wail went up from outside like the grating of iron against iron inside a massive rusty hinge. Robby released Swyncraff from its grip on the arms and saw them recede quickly through the knothole. Ibin finally managed to get out a scream, adding his own wail of terror to the ferocious shriek of pain and anger from outside that struck new fear into the company.
Ashlord flew from the room, grabbing up his walking stick but leaving his sword. Flinging open the door, he ran around to the side of the cottage. Ullin and Robby, swords in hand, quickly followed, then Sheila came with her bow. When they rounded the corner, they came to a sudden stop some yards behind Ashlord.
"Begone!" Ashlord cried.
Facing him, about ten yards away, was a thin shadow, draped in black gauze, two feet taller than any of them. By the bright light of Ashlord's glowing stick, they perceived long matted hair and a pale gray face, yellow bloodshot eyes, and thick blood-red lips surrounding the bared teeth of a canine. Everything about the creature was crooked, and even though it stood on two feet, it leaned sharply sideways, defying gravity. They saw that she, for surely it was a feminine figure, floated rather than walked, and as she hissed and wailed, her mouth opened so wide, and her jaws so far apart, that all of her teeth, white and sharp from front to back, were bared at them.
"Begone!" cried Ashlord again. He repeated it in the Ancient Tongue. It was in that tongue, a version of it, and in a voice like rasping pipes of iron, that the creature replied.
"Paltera will have her dinner, Collandoth. These are my mountains, now!"
With that she swept up a rock and spat on it. The rock burst into orange flames, and she hurled it at Ashlord's head. Instantly, he held his stick upright before him and did not wince as the missile struck the stick and splintered into hundreds of sparks, trailed by sulfurous lines of smoke. One of these sparks bounced from Ullin's sword, and it instantly glowed so hot in his hand that he flung it down, hissing and steaming as it landed in the wet grass.
"Begone, I say! Or suffer the fate of your forebears!" cried Ashlord, stepping toward her as she held up another flaming missile. Sheila let fly an arrow but it only passed harmlessly through, provoking a scream from the creature as it turned to her new assailant.
Ashlord struck the ground three times with the base of his stick.
"Hold!" he cried.
He stepped again toward the witch, pointing the base of his stick at her.
"Talitempos, retempas tardas!" he uttered.
The world seemed to slow, all movements long and drawn out, and each in the company felt their own breathing become calm. The clouds racing to cover the stars seem to pause, and an eerie stillness fell upon the clearing. They heard Ashlord's voice, soft and lulling, singing in an ancient language as he slowly advanced to the creature. Her eyes grew wide, filling with a kind of mist, though she remained poised with her rock crackling with fire, ready to hurl it at Sheila. Instead, she turned her eyes to Ashlord and stared at him as he gently sang. Continuing to sing at almost a whisper, he came closer and closer until he was standing right in front of her. The song came to an end, and Ashlord thrust his stick through her body.
The spell broke, the witch screamed in terror, and the flaming stone she held fell harmlessly to the ground as she turned into smoke and floated away on the breeze.
"She is dead," Ashlord pronounced, still facing away from them and now leaning heavily on his stick, his shoulders slumped in exhaustion.
"What was that?" cried Billy, coming up from behind the others. Ashlord sighed and turned back to them, wiping his brow with his sleeve.
"A mountain witch, surely," said Ullin as he took the obviously shaken Ashlord by the elbow.
"I am not ready for this," Ashlord muttered, shaking his head. "It is not yet time for me. Yes. Yes, a mountain witch. Indeed."
"What? Like a galafronk?"
"Galafronks are just tales, Billy," Ullin said sharply, gingerly picking up his sword, which was still hot.
"I must rest," said Ashlord. "And have some water. How is Ibin?"
"I'mI'mfine," came the reply. Ibin was hiding at the corner of the cottage, peeking at the others. He cautiously stepped out as they approached. "Didyoukill, didyoukillthegalafronk?"
"It warn't no galafronk, Ibin," said Billy. "Just a dang witch."
"How are your legs?" asked Sheila.
"Theyhurt, Sheila, theyhurtwhereitgrabbedme."
"Let's go in, and I'll have a look at them."
"I guess we know what happened to the person who once lived here," Robby said as he closed he door behind the others. Then in a voice a bit softer so that Ibin would not hear, he asked "Might there be others? What would she have done with Ibin?"
"Mountain witches are flesh-eaters, Robby," Ullin said as he eased Ashlord into the chair. Ashlord appeared to be in a kind of shock or deep distraction. "But I thought they were all hunted down years ago."
Ashlord looked up at Ullin absently and then back at the fire.
"Apparently not all," he said. "And I now understand these runes better."
"And the witchbane," added Ullin.
"Yes. My stick is of the same sort of plant, though of a kind seldom found anymore. Fortunately for me."
"For us."
"Yes."
"What was that you sang?" asked Sheila from across the room. She was holding the candle over Ibin's bare legs and examining the new marks there.
"An ancient lullaby, actually," said Ashlord. Then, more to himself than to the others, he said, "It was all I could think of."
Robby handed Ashlord a flask of water. He nodded in thanks and drank it down.
"Ashlord, would you take a look?" Sheila asked.
Ashlord rose and went to where Ibin was sitting on the floor with his legs stretched out. Ashlord crouched, and Sheila held the candle so that he could see the red splotches just above Ibin's ankles in the exact form of the witch's hideous hands, fingers clearly outlined like a red shadow.
"Hm. I'd say those marks will be permanent, dear fellow. But with some salve and with time the burning pain will subside and go away. How are you otherwise? Not every person who has been pulled through a knothole has lived to tell of it!"
"I'mfine, I'mfine, ohI'mfine. ButI'mkindoftired, andmy, andmyanklesburn."
"Well, let Sheila dress your legs and you should lie down and rest," Ashlord smiled and stood.
"Should I use the same salve that would be for a burn? Or would the stuff for Slobberfang be better?"
"I would say the regular salve. It doesn't look like the skin is broken. But you should watch him for any sign of fever. He still has that other leg wound and so is already weakened. Watch for festering."
Ashlord took another drink of water and slowly paced back and forth in front of the fireplace.
"Do you think it is safe for us to remain here through the night?" asked Robby, seeing Ashlord's agitation.
"Oh, now we are indeed quite safe here. But something is not right about all this," Ashlord said. "I cannot explain, because I do not yet know. That mountain witch should not be here. In fact, all her kind should have been destroyed long ago. It is
all wrong. A mountain witch, this far east, centuries after the last of them were thought to have been annihilated. I should not have been able to combat her so easily. Somehow, I knew what to do. Though it made no sense, I knew. I felt a kind of authority. You must understand that I am not of the race of Men, nor am I Elifaen. I am of another kind. I and my kind were tasked to look after things, to watch, as I have done, and to be helpers and advisors, acting only when the action was required and when the moment of action was ripe."
"I don't understand. Put here by who?"
"Not a who, Robby. The Great What. That which strives in every thing, living and nonliving, beast or fowl or lowly creature. There is a way of things that should be, and a way that should not be. There are those of us who contend for the one way. And, just as surely, there are those who contend for another way."
"Some say you are a wizard, and that is why you are so different and influential. Some liken you unto Begrimlin the Kingmaker."
"Begrimlin was not one of my kind. I am not a wizard. I don't make things other than potions and salves and such. And the age for wizards is not yet upon us, if ever it will be," Ashlord said. "It is too soon, for the power of the earth is still strong, and its spirit still abides and holds much in check. Until the Elifaen depart from the world, it is said, other powers will not arise. That such creatures as what we just saw stir once again in the world is a sign, perhaps, that a time of great change is upon us. The struggle to determine which power will hold sway over the earth has begun."
"You mean that the Elifaen might leave the world?" asked Sheila from across the room, "as did the Faerekind that went with Aperion?"
"Yes, they might, if certain conditions are met and the world is done with them. Conditions that seem impossible to fulfill."
"What conditions?" asked Robby. "What do you mean done with them?"
"That is a long tale, and sorrowful," Ashlord sighed, "and has to do with why they are a melancholy folk, and every work that they do has some shadow upon it and cannot be pure. It is also why no evil act can be purely so, and while they are in the lands, the light of goodness cannot be wholly extinguished from the earth."
"I don't understand."
Ashlord smiled and put a hand on Robby's shoulder.
"It is not in our power to understand all things," he said. "However, I think you will, in time, come to understand more than most do. Meanwhile, our hope is to get by on what we have yet learned, while we learn the rest as we go."
"I thought that the race of Men were the ones fated to go away and that the Faere would regain dominion over the earth."
"That, too, is said. It is foretold that for a time all Faerekind will be called away, abandoning the world and re-emerging only when it is the turn of Men to go away."
"Go away where?"
"No one knows."
"Well, what does all this have to do with that witch?"
"Much. You see, mountain witches are the creatures of darkness, a breed of hunters fashioned by one of the many demons of the First Age to serve him. After he was destroyed, they scattered until they in turn were hunted and killed by both Faere Folk and the Dragon People alike. If one persists unto this day, it must mean some other demon now walks the earth, or dwells within its bowels, for, unlike other witches, mountain witches cannot survive long lest the blood they swallow mingles in union with their liege and offspring are made. Offspring that then become servants of the demon, or servants of he who holds the leash of the demon."
"Offspring? You mean...?"
"Yes, a vile marriage, repeatedly consummated. And somewhere nearby must be her lair. She knew my name, too. That is a sign that she bears the memory of her wretched mother, and I have only encountered one other in all my days who knew my name. Indeed, I was taken by her, one called Vinkasinea, to feed her young. I managed to escape with the help of a friend who slew her. For years, I was hunted by their kind, but the hunters became the hunted by a twist of events. I, like all others, thought the threat was gone."
"This lair you spoke of, somewhere nearby you said, is that where the demon is?"
"I will not be sure until I find it. Certainly her spawn will be. And they must be destroyed."
"Collandoth," interrupted Ullin, "surely you are not considering—"
"Yes. I'm afraid I must."
"What?" asked Robby.
"This is enemy land," Ullin insisted. "What do we care if it is harried by witches or banshees?"
"Who is the greater enemy?" countered Ashlord. "If they are permitted to grow here, out of sight and out of mind, they will eventually pour out from this place, and no person would be safe from here to the sea, north to south. I must do this thing. And I must find the source of her seed, the demon by which she has continued to exist. And, by the way, do not mistake witches for banshees. They are entirely different creatures."
"You are not ready to face them! You said so yourself. It would be folly! Your sword will be useless, no metal can harm them. Did you see what it did to mine? Even now, it is still warm from her fire."
"I have my staff!" shot back Ashlord testily. "And I have my training, my knowledge, and the experience of over twenty-seven score of years. I have hunted witches before, though I have never faced a full demon. Perhaps I was put here for just such a task. I must at least find and destroy the lair. True, this is an unexpected turn, but that cannot be helped. Do you think I wish this? I do not. And yet I welcome the chance to strike a blow against such wickedness!"
His glare at Ullin eased after only a moment when he saw the worry and frustration in Ullin's eyes.
"Dear friend, how long do you think Duinnor or any realm will last when a power such as this is growing? Our little war may be but an out-of-the-way matter in the great pattern of things. This is another proof that a greater power, dark and patient for eons, is now stirring in the world, putting together its forces, one day to be drawn together from all quarters. You have heard me speak of it before. What is this war the Redvest make compared to the collision of doom that comes? What is this conflict that continues between Elifaen and Dragonkind in the face of this? They only feed the true Enemy, weakening each other and those who may oppose him. Surely it is Secundur's hand in all these workings, the disunity of Men, the oppression of the Elifaen, the rising of the Dragonkind and their aims of conquest, even the hunting down of a future king."
Here Ashlord looked at Robby.
"Do ye mean to say we'll be goin' witch huntin'?" Billy asked, standing beside Robby with his thumbs in his belt and his chest puffed out, proud and ready.
"No. Only I will hunt. The rest of you must continue on as fast as you can go. I will strive to catch up with you by and by."
They looked at one another, Billy shaking his head, Ullin and Robby silent and unhappy. Sheila said nothing, but her expression spoke her dismay. Even Ibin realized that something serious was happening.
"When will you go?" asked Sheila at last.
"When you do. After dawn. Meanwhile, let us try to rest. We will all need strength on the morrow."
They nodded in agreement, and Ashlord returned to his seat by the hearth and took out his pipe. He lit it with an ember from the fire and sat puffing while the others stood about, uncertain whether they should try to sleep or if they should abide with Ashlord. But after a while they, too, were again stretched out, this time all tightly squeezed into the single small room, the other room being still too fearful for comfortable sleep. Light snores soon came from Ibin, followed shortly after by Billy and even Ullin nodded off. Only Robby and Sheila remained awake, sitting at either side of Ashlord on the floor before the hearth.
"Ashlord," said Sheila after nearly an hour of silence. "Who knows of us? Who knows about our party and the true reason why we travel west?"
Ashlord considered the question for a moment before answering.
"Mirabella. Lord Tallin. Lyrium and her daughters. My colleague, Raynor. I suppose Bailorg's master, wherever and whoever he is, must soon learn of us. But f
or now, I think word has perhaps not yet reached that far. Queen Serith Ellyn no doubt knows or has guessed, perhaps Thurdun her brother, and one or two of their court. The Damar must certainly know this is an important company, but I do not think they know the true reason for our travel."
"How might we be pursued?" asked Robby. "If Bailorg's master is the Dark One, and he learns about me. What will he do to stop us?"
"I do not think Bailorg served Secundur directly, but rather some lieutenant, perhaps. Or a high-placed person of Duinnor, loyal to Shatuum. Or perhaps the traitor of Tulith Attis, wherever he is. A small distinction, but I do not think the Dark One wishes for many to know of us, either."
"Why not?"
"Because, through agents and mischief, he may hold too much sway in Duinnor under the present King. He may fear that our quest could find allies powerful enough to protect you from him. So he cannot openly put a bounty on your head, for that might in itself thwart his efforts to destroy you and actually give you more allies. Only his most trusted servants would be given the task. I fear they are his most powerful ones, too. Still, the hatreds and conflicts that have spread across the world have created many who would have no qualms in stopping you. Our stated purpose, to go to Duinnor to plea for help for the Eastlands, is enough to make enemies among the Damar and the Redvests. The Dragonkind King and his spies would surely try to stop us from that as well. But our true plan, to get you to Griferis, is likely to play into Secundur's hand, too. The closer we get to Griferis, the more apparent will be the aim of our journey. It is a risk that must be taken."
"Ashlord, do you think we will ever learn who the traitor at Tulith Attis was?" Robby asked.
"Hm. Already there are clues, if you but think carefully," Ashlord said thoughtfully. "But I think that, should you succeed in your quest for kingship, you will have the power to discover the traitor's identity. I cannot foresee how that knowledge would be of much use, though."
"Well, who might our allies be along the way?" asked Sheila.
"Those loyal to the Seven Realms. Those who long for peace, and have a hope for justice from Duinnor. Those who resent the King's treatment of them, yet love their own people and their own lands without coveting that which belongs to others. Those who have been cheated and hurt by the lords and regents of the court, and who have given their deeds and titles and sons as trade for protection or royal assistance, but remain loyal nonetheless to Duinnor and will not revolt."
The Nature of a Curse (Volume 2 of the Year of the Red Door) Page 61