Dog Star Rising

by J. August

  *

  I HADN'T planned any of it. Not like this. They were hot for blood and so was I, hot as I'd been since I came back from soldiering and found my aunt standing over my cousin's grave. We spilled out into the greying night. The moon had set and the stars were fading; it was almost dawn. The other villagers were starting to come out of their cottages, all questions and confusion. Ricbert's youngest threw the herbman to the muddy ground. "No, please..." Alric moaned and spat out a mouthful of blood. "It's not true..."

  I don't think he really knew what was happening at this point. Ricbert kicked him in the stomach. He'd been brawny when he was younger and he was still a big, red-faced man; Alric doubled over, sobbing. "Shut your filthy mouth, witch!"

  The word hissed round the assembled villagers. Alric struggled to get up, then gave up and just lay slack in the mud. I could see he'd realised it was hopeless. They were going to hang him there and then.

  He caught my eye. His bloodied mouth was moving without sound; I realised he was trying to tell me something. I couldn't think what or why. Then I realised what he was saying and all the angry heat went out of me: Ann. They'd hang her next, if they found her. As much as I wanted to see Alric swing, I had nothing against his pretty girl.

  I thought I'd have to struggle to get away and find her. I was right at the front and Ricbert was going through the whole sorry tale again, a little incoherently, probably because he hadn't got much sleep and his son had just died. But then a roar went up and the crowd surged and Ricbert's youngest slung the old herbman over his broad shoulders, so I shoved my way clear while everyone else streamed off towards the crossroads south of the village. I couldn't see Ann anywhere. I hoped she was safely out of the way.

  She wasn't in the alehouse. I grabbed my bag and everything I could see that belonged to her. It wasn't much. I remembered her heading out of the village to gather herbs the night before. Some plants had to be plucked by moonlight to be any use as drugs. She must still be there.

  The Dog Star glittered mistily over the eastern woods as I ran between the deserted cottages. I could hear them cheering at the crossroads. Ann, I thought, and sped up.

  There she was. I saw her coming out of the woods up ahead, her long legs wet from wading through the damp knee-high grass. "Ann!" I called and dropped everything I was holding so I could catch her before she went anywhere near the villagers. I sprinted towards her. "Ann, don't -"

  I was breathless now. She was as pale as the ghost-hand in the gathering dawn. "What?" she said. "What is happening?"

  "It's Alric," I told her. I was still breathing fast and hard. I put my hands on her slim shoulders. "Listen. You have to listen to me. The sickness, the white pestilence. It's not a sickness. It's witchcraft."

  She looked at me as if I'd gone mad. "Where is Alric?"

  "They're hanging him," I said bluntly and held her there when she jerked under my hands. She was very cold, which wasn't surprising. She'd spent all night in the woods. "He's a witch. He caused all those deaths. Listen, you have to get out of here - I'll take you to Alba -"

  "Alric is not witch," said Ann with absolute conviction. "That is lie."

  She sounded more than a little scornful. "He is," I said, "he really is. I've been looking for him all over the country. I saw a ghost tonight. It killed Ricbert's boy. It was Alric, Ann. You have to believe me."

  I was getting badly worried. I didn't know how long it would take them to hang Alric. He might be dead already. Someone might remember the herbman's girl any moment now. "I swear," I added, as convincingly as I could, "I swear to you, Ann, he's a witch and they're hanging him for it now."

  Ann went very still. "No," she said. "They won't -"

  "They will and they are. It's no good. It's too late. You have to get out of here."

  "But Alric -"

  "Alric is a witch! He killed everyone who died of the white pestilence! Forget Alric!"

  She was looking at me now. I had the feeling she was really seeing me for the first time. "You tell them?" she asked. "You tell them Alric is witch? Why?"

  "Because he is," I said. "I saw a ghostly hand. I've been following you since Alba."

  Ann went even stiller. "I thought -"

  "Yeah, I said I was a pilgrim. I was a pilgrim. I went to Cynn's Rede and then I went after Alric. He killed my cousin. Look, we don't have time -"

  "Alric is good man," she said. "Alric is not witch."

  I was ready to curse her for her stubbornness. I looked down at her standing there in the long grass as the sun came up, her brown tunic rumpled and her slim shoulders smooth under my calloused hands. Her kissable mouth had taken on that sharp downwards turn and she was looking up at me as if she really couldn't understand why I was saying such things. She was sure she was right and that was all there was to it. That's what it was. I couldn't think how to show her she was wrong.

  So I ran my hands down her lithe body and pulled her tight against me. I'd wanted to do it since I first laid eyes on her and she didn't look the slightest bit surprised.

  She was very cold. She didn't struggle or try to push away. Her lips parted, just a little. "There is no ghost," she whispered and let her head fall back. The light caught her big blue eyes through her lashes when I kissed her.

  I felt it when she breathed in.

  I was suddenly cold, as cold as Ann, to the bone. I couldn't have pulled away, even if I'd wanted to. I couldn't hear them cheering at the crossroads any more.

  Her lips were icy and her long lashes brushed my cheek. I thought I heard her voice anyway, clear in my head. "He died when he kissed me." The clipped edges of her accent had softened now, if the words were even Alban. "Death came to set him free. That's all you saw. Thank my grandfather. I wouldn't have bothered. I didn't want him."

  She breathed the air back into my lungs. I still couldn't move. When she released me, I couldn't feel anything at all. I knew she'd bewitched me then.

  "I thought about what you said," she went on. She'd got that odd dispassionate air of an intellectual dissecting some academic curiosity again. "About beauty. It must be ravishing, or you wouldn't be so stupid. You and your cousin and Ricbert's son. Alric's not a witch. He knows how to use herbs. That's all. My grandfather always said an earthwitch should use plants, not people. Alric was going to show me how."

  The glow of the sun was yellow over the treetops. I couldn't see the Dog Star any more. I couldn't see anything much except Ann's blue eyes. All I knew was that I was going to die.

  "You're dead already," she said, as if she knew what I was thinking. "I breathed it out of you. No one ever listens."

  She touched all ten fingertips to my chest. "I'll be back," she added, "with Alric," and pushed.

  Alric must be dead already. I was sure she knew that. She didn't care. I felt myself falling to the wet grass as the world went white.

  THE END

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Internet denizen, fantasy writer, generally harmless. Responds well to tea, chocolate and friendly emails. Tragically fond of tricola; also alliteration; don't ask about semicolons. Almost never bites. Send mail to j.august@hotmail.co.uk.