The Witch of Glenaster (7 page)

The rocky hills of the
Moonland
, which together form a cluster of grey,
rubble-strewn valleys north of the Plateau, reminded me of my own home: they
were not as dramatic as the great Anvil Valley, I felt, and their mountains
were hardly worthy of the name, being worn and feeble-looking things in
comparison to ours; but still there was a sense of familiarity to the place,
and to the homesteads sheltering together on the mountains’ slopes.

But this was not home, and, as
Cornelius Bryant had suggested, we did not seem to be welcome.

There were banners and coils of
bunting dancing crazily in the wind, and we could see the preparations for the
Festival of the Moon as we came into
Broadfarrow
,
where Bryant was stationed. We climbed slowly up the side of a hill to his
house.

“It’s how the valleys here got
their name,” he explained, as he fussed us through his front door and into a
cosy, untidy parlour, with a low roof; Thomas knocked his head against it
coming in. The air had the
fuggish
quality of a
bachelor’s quarters; a little close, and swimming with the scent of pipe
tobacco. “The first full moon of the autumn, so the story goes, was when, many
years ago, the giant
Arle
made the people of these
valleys. And he formed them from the earth, and from the moon, and so they
called this place the
Moonland
, and have done ever
since… Well, it’s a nice story, if you believe in that sort of thing. And so
the Festival of the Moon is when they celebrate their creation, and there are
all sorts of strange rituals go on. Last year, I kept myself indoors on that
day, and they obviously considered it a wise decision on my part, for outsiders
are not invited to participate in their ceremonies, at least at the Festival. I
locked all my doors, and went to bed; but there were still people rattling at
the locks in the small hours, and making strange noises out in the yard. I must
say, it wasn’t altogether pleasant…”

Thomas caught my eye at this,
and we both laughed.

Bryant swept about his kitchen,
making tea, and shooing us into chairs by the hearth. After the hard going on
the Plateau, we were all of us grateful to be in a proper home again, and
within minutes my brother was fast asleep, followed swiftly by Thomas, who
snored without a care, as was his wont. In the end, there was only me to serve
tea and toast to, which Cornelius did, and he was a generous host; though after
a while I too wearied of his chatter, and could hold up my head no more,
surrendering gratefully to sleep.

When I awoke, it was with the
ache and disorientation of someone who has had too little rest, or too much. My
right arm had gone numb where I had fallen asleep on it, and my eyes were gummy
and sore. I gazed in panic about me, and thought myself still trapped in some
dream, until I recalled the previous night, and our fortunate escape from the
Plateau. The chair opposite, where my brother had been, was vacant, and when I
turned I saw that Thomas was gone also, and there was a woollen blanket
covering me up to my chin. I rose and stretched awkwardly, almost losing my
balance and tumbling to the floor. Then I wondered if there was somewhere I
could wash, even perhaps bathe, for I felt hot and dirty, and longed to get
clean.

Cornelius appeared, a
bright-green waistcoat about his corpulent belly, and his bald head blinking in
the morning sunshine, and offered me hot chocolate and shortbread, and I was
grateful for both: the chocolate scalding and rich to the tongue, and the biscuits
thick, like the fingers of a giant, and burnt slightly at the edges.

“Where are the others?” I
asked, and he told me Thomas and Magnus had already breakfasted, and had gone
for a walk in the garden.

I blinked, and ran my fingers
through my hair, and smelt the grease on them. I made a face, and Cornelius
smiled, and asked tentatively:

“I could run you a bath, if you
like…?”

I nodded, and he seemed
pleased, and disappeared into one of the back rooms. I realized we had trusted
this strange little man with our lives – he could, I supposed, have murdered us
in our sleep – but Thomas had clearly judged him no threat, and he certainly
seemed friendly enough, if somewhat eccentric.

“You are all alone up here,
then?” I asked, as he set about preparing the bath, returning to the kitchen to
boil some water. He seemed slightly startled by my question.

“Alone? Yes, yes, I am alone. I
have no wife. You and your brother, you have… family?”

I sucked at my lip, and it
tasted of dried blood. My mother had always scolded me for biting my lips.

“We have each other,” I said
finally, after a long pause, and Cornelius seemed happy not to press the
matter.

“Then you are lucky. I have no
family anymore,” he said quietly, and before I could say anything more he
disappeared again, carrying a jug of hot water that was almost as large as he
was.

I sat back in the chair and
finished my chocolate, the dregs circling the bottom of the mug, crumbs of
shortbread powdering the front of my blouse. After a while, Cornelius came
round the corner with a towel and a cake of soap, and gestured to the back
room, where I found a wide, tin tub, steam sighing invitingly from its rim.
Testing the water, I found it a little too hot, and, stripping off my clothes,
sat naked for a minute or so on a small chair and let my mind drift. There was
no one to watch, and I did not think Cornelius was the sort to peep. Anyway, I
knew what to do with such people; not long before the drakes had come, one of
the boys from the village had tried to look in at me while I was having a bath;
I hurled a pumice-stone as hard as I could through the window, and broke his
nose. Now that boy was dead, most likely, like everyone else from my village.
If his relatives came looking for him, would they know him by his broken nose?

After a while I climbed into
the bath, and felt the ache and stiffness in my limbs relax, as I soaked
gratefully in the warm water. I leaned back for a while, my hair hanging limply
over the edge of the tub, my chin just resting on the skin of the water, and my
legs floating away from me. It was the most beautiful feeling I had had in all
those long days, since we had begun our journey, and I gave thanks for it.

Clutching at the sides, I sank
my head beneath the water, and lay down in the bottom of the tub, watching the
shimmering world above, enjoying the dullness of the sound. I was about to pull
myself back up, when I was aware of a hand on my chest - two hands - and I
realized in a horrified daze that they were trying to push me down…

I tried not to panic. I could
barely see my attacker, and they had caught me so off guard I was hardly
capable of defending myself. But I rallied, pushing back against the force
above, and reaching for what I thought might be its neck. I obviously managed
to get some purchase, for it seemed to yelp, and fall back, and that gave me
the time I needed to gather myself and haul my body upwards, above the water,
as I felt it enter my mouth and nostrils, stinging and choking.

I retched and coughed for a
good minute, clearing my lungs, and rubbing desperately at my eyes. I was just
about aware of several people in the room – they seemed to have run in at that
moment – and when finally my sight cleared I saw that Thomas had an arm, and a
towel, round me, and Cornelius was standing open-mouthed in the corner. And
there, on the floor, dripping and red-faced with anger, was my attacker.

It was my brother.

We stared at each other for a
while, both breathing hard; he furious, I bewildered. And then he said:

“I hate you!”

I looked at his face, knotted
with rage, but still the face of a child, and felt myself weep. “I hate you!
You shouldn’t have brought us here! I hate this place! We should go back to our
village, to Mum and Dad…” I could see him struggling to contain his grief, and
I wanted to touch him, to reach out and hug him. But I knew he would not have
me. “You don’t miss them like I do! You’re a liar! You said we were going to
get help, from the emperor! But you just want to go off by yourself and leave
me behind…”

“I don’t…”

“You’re a liar! You’re just
sitting there as if nothing has happened!”

“Mag, that’s not true…”

“It is!” He was on his feet
now. “I hate you for what you’ve done to us. I want to go home. If Mum and Dad
are dead I want to die with them…”

“Mag…”

“I don’t want to be in this
place. I’m scared and I’m tired. I want Mum…” And he ran to a corner of the
room, his arm over his face, and his back to us, and cried bitterly. And I felt
my heart tear in two in that moment, for I knew I had failed him, as I had
failed myself. For he was right. We should have died with our parents. That was
our place. We had been lent this extra life, it seemed, not as a gift, but as a
punishment, as something to taunt and betray us; and I knew that nothing I
could say or do would make amends for that. I had become my brother’s enemy,
that thing I so least wanted to be. And I looked up at Thomas and Cornelius,
arms outstretched as if in supplication, and wailed. Then I passed out.

“You cannot go back.”

When I came to, my head was
thumping painfully, and my throat felt dry and hoarse. I was in a chair, in
another room of the house, its broad window looking down upon the valley below,
and a small fire muttering in the corner. I was wrapped in a thick, long towel,
and balanced on a broad cushion, which raised me up so my feet were slightly
off the ground. I waggled my toes a little, and looked down at them. I had
always liked my feet. They made me laugh.

The chair was wicker, with a
back that fanned out widely, and made the whole thing feel like something of a
throne; and, despite the circumstances, I even felt somewhat regal sat up
there, peering down at my toes. I laughed again, despite everything.

Then I became aware of Thomas,
sitting in the window-seat opposite, smoking quietly, and gazing out at the
mountains. He did not smile at my laughter; indeed he hardly looked at me. And
then I remembered what had happened earlier, and a tear ran quickly down my
face. Thomas simply continued speaking, almost as if to himself.

“The Watchers have your scent
now. They will be guarding the Plateau like hawks, in case you return that way.
I do not know what they want with you. But nothing makes sense anymore… I will
accompany you and your brother to
Ampar
, and find
safe lodging for you, until it is safe for you to return to your own lands.”

“I am not returning to my own
lands…”

“Give it a month or so, and the
Great Road may be passable once more. I can take you home through East Cross,
and down through
Fellen
…”

“I am not returning to my own
lands. I…”

He turned and looked at me, his
face a mixture of weariness and contempt.

“I… what?”

I paused, swallowed. I could
not tell him the truth.

“I have to get to the emperor…”

Thomas stood up, pacing
angrily.

“Oh, for goodness’ sake! The
emperor doesn’t just
see
people…! Last I heard, he was barely in his
right mind. You don’t just make an appointment and…
wander in
. Do you
know how many people petition the emperor every week? They’re lucky if one in a
thousand of them gets to shake his hand…”

Cornelius came in, his hands in
his pockets, looking older than he had earlier. He leaned against the doorpost.

“How is the boy?” he asked.

“Fast asleep, upstairs,” Thomas
replied. “I’ll go and look in on him presently.”

“I imagine he’s worn out, the
poor little chap…” said Cornelius.

And he cast what looked like an
accusing glance in my direction, before sitting at the other end of the
window-seat, drumming his fat fingers against his legs for a couple of minutes.
Then he said:

“It’s beginning to get dark.
You will have to stay with me another night now. It won’t be safe for you to
travel until the festivities are over. We’ll be all right, as long as we remain
in the house until the morning.”

Thomas hardly seemed to register
this at first, but then looked up dimly. He nodded.

“You know what’s best. We’ll do
as you say.”

Cornelius looked relieved at
this, and announced he was going to make some supper. He disappeared to the
kitchen, and Thomas and I were alone once more. Silence settled for so long
that I found myself nodding to sleep once or twice, but forced myself to keep
my eyes open. I looked across at the swordsman, thinking him asleep, but saw
that he was only very still, for his eyes, though almost shut, were still blinking
from time to time. Eventually the curtain of night fell, and it became dark in
the room.

And then the howling began.

The first time it sounded, I
saw Thomas move, almost imperceptibly, as if startled. And I heard a clatter from
the kitchen, as if Cornelius had dropped something. I recall starting to get up
from my chair, and saying something about lighting a candle, but Thomas told me
not to, that it was better if we sat in darkness. “They will be attracted to
the light,” he said, and I wondered what he meant. After that, the howling
noise sounded with increasing frequency - sometimes nearer, sometimes further
away - but at no point could I make out exactly where it was coming from: or
from what. Its echo, sounding off the mountains, and the strange atmosphere,
sitting there in that unfamiliar house, in the dark, made me afraid, and I did
not like it.

“What is it?” I asked, in a
whisper.

“I do not know,” replied
Thomas, who was standing facing the window. I stood up, and crept over to his
side. There, far below, and snaking slowly along the valley floor, was a long,
torch-lit procession, winding away into the distance; and, though far off, we
could hear the steady chanting of its participants, as they moved ever closer,
along the road that would take them past Cornelius’s house.

Magnus padded downstairs,
rubbing his cheek, his blue eyes wide and fearful. He had heard the noise from
outside, and when he saw the looks on our faces he started to cry, for he could
see we were just as afraid as he. I ran to him then, and picked him up, as his
head sank into my shoulder; and I was glad to have him near, and to be
forgiven, if only for a short while.

After half an hour or so the
howling stopped, but the chanting continued, growing steadily louder as the
awful procession passed by; and I tucked Magnus in a blanket in the corner of a
small armchair, far back from the window, and despite his terror he was soon
asleep, for he was very tired. I kept an eye on him as I followed Thomas into
the kitchen next door, where Cornelius was stirring some soup, his hand shaking
visibly. He looked at us anxiously.

“It’s begun,” he said, simply.
Thomas nodded.

“I’ll take Magnus back
upstairs. Esther, when you’ve eaten, come up and watch over him for a while.
Then I will come back down and have my supper. He should not be left on his
own.” And he went in and picked Magnus up out of the armchair, and carried him
gently up the stairs, without waking him. Cornelius continued stirring the
soup.

 “They don’t mean us any
harm, do they?” I asked, and felt naïve for doing so.

The small man looked at me
sadly, dwarfed by the large oven at which he stood, the flames from the fire,
half-hidden by a great iron guard, throwing sickly shadows on to the walls.

“I’ve locked all the doors,” he
said, almost whispering. “We must not light any candles or fires once midnight
has passed, at least none that they can see. When we’ve eaten we can retreat to
one of the back rooms, close the curtains. It is the sorcerers’ time, you see:
they still have magicians up here, though the emperor frowns upon it. I do not
think that they will harm us, but I went through something like this a year
ago, and I believe it was the worst night of my life…”

There was a sudden bang, off to
one side of the house, and he turned his head quickly towards it, before
looking away again. I got up to go to the window, and, putting my fingers up to
the glass, looked out at the little garden beyond. It seemed so still and
peaceful, glowing in the light of the full moon, which was sitting proudly in a
sky only occasionally swept by cloud. I leaned my head against the windowpane,
and felt the welcome chill of it, and imagined for a moment that I was glued to
the glass, and could not pull away.

Then I found that I was.

It was a tickling sensation at
first, in my forehead and the tips of my fingers; then it became more of an
itching, like pins and needles, until I realized suddenly, and with an awful,
sick clarity, that I was unable to move, and that any attempt to force myself
to do so would rip away my flesh, my blood spilling like milk on to the floor;
and I had a vision then of the whole of my skin being pulled off like a sheet,
leaving only glistening sinew and muscle behind. I started to scream.

Cornelius heard me then, and
ran forward to help. But something in my eyes must have warned him not to touch
me, for he quickly left the room, and I heard his heavy footfall on the stairs.
I felt desperate now. And then my plight worsened, for just outside, right in
front of me, and separated from me only by the window, was the most grotesque
face I had ever seen.

It sat on a body the same
height as mine, and roughly the same shape; indeed, even its dress seemed
similar, and I thought it looked cold, wearing nothing but a towel. The face
itself had once been young and fair, but now was decayed and rotting, maggots
filling one of the eye-sockets, while the other, bloodshot and terrifying,
looked at me pleadingly. And I screamed again, screamed until I thought my
lungs would burst, because I could see with a quickening horror that the face -
that grim and twisted mask, half eaten away, screaming in unison - that face
was my own.

It was then that Thomas and
Cornelius appeared, Magnus padding after them, and Thomas pulled the blind down
in front of the window; and I fell away from it as the spell was broken, and he
caught me, but still I kept screaming, until I could be reassured that what I
had seen was only a vision, and not reality.