A Nameless Witch

22

We came across an old road and followed where it led. In the early evening, the countryside became somehow familiar. I didn't recognize it. I'd seen very little of the world, but a good witch has a sense of the land.

My curiosity got the better of me, and I hopped off Gwurm's shoulders to speak with the road. I knelt low and asked, "Have I been here before?"

He spoke with a rough, dry voice as any neglected, dusty road should.

"Leave me alone."

"I beg your pardon, but I think I've been here before."

"Perhaps you have," he grunted. "Perhaps you haven't. A great many feet have trod upon this old road. I can't be expected to remember them all."

Despite his protests, I knew every road recollected all those who'd traveled upon it. I also knew that such an old, neglected road wouldn't volunteer information freely.

"And how very presumptuous of you," the road added, "to ask me anything after treading so callously on my back."

"I'm sorry, but isn't that what roads are for?"

"Oh, yes. To be walked and rolled across without thought all hours of the day, that is my job. Answering questions is not. Now on your way. Stomp away with your cruel hooves and clomping troll feet, but stop pestering me with questions."

Not all roads were so bitter. A well-used, well-tended road is a contented beast of burden. All too often, prosperity leads men elsewhere, and the streets are left behind to grow resentful. This particular road could never have been that important to begin with. He didn't even have remembered greatness to ease his ill temperament.

I stood for a moment, saying nothing.

"Off you go," the road growled.

I remained. None of my companions questioned my motives though Newt did clear his throat impatiently.

"Oh, the cruelty of it," the road lamented. "I, who have helped a thousand travelers find their way, can't even flee from a single bothersome witch. Wait as long as you like. I have nothing but time."

I let Penelope go, and she immediately set to sweeping.

"Oh, my. That feels ..." The road exhaled. Soft clouds of dust rose and fell. ".. . splendid. It's been ages since I've been tended to. That's it. Now to the left. More. More. Just right."

I snapped my fingers, and Penelope returned to my side.

"Don't stop! Don't stop!"

"Answer my question, and I'll allow her to continue."

The road didn't hesitate. "Yes, yes, you've walked with me before."

"When?"

"Years are meaningless to me, but I know it was when I was more well traveled. Long ago. Your promise. Keep your promise."

"Of course."

Penelope was every bit as eager as the road. She danced back and forth as he sighed pleasurably at her tender caress. He directed her between approving murmurs, and his pleasure drove her into a fervor of sweeping.

"What's wrong with her?" asked Newt.

I climbed back on Gwurm's shoulders.

"Harder," groaned the road. "Oh, yes! That's it. That's the spot!"

Newt squinted curiously.

I covered his eyes. "It's impolite to stare."

We continued. Penelope fell behind, tending to the road. I trusted she would catch up and left her to her passion. It was barely an hour later that a broken-down cottage came into view. Like the land, it was oddly familiar. I ordered a stop.

"What now?" asked Newt.

I gave no explanation as I studied the abandoned house. It was wholly unexceptional. I climbed the porch steps and pushed open the creaking door to find nothing but dust and spiderwebs inside. It had been a long time since anyone called this place home.

Wyst dismounted. "Is something wrong?"

We walked around to the back of the overgrown yard. A door in the earth beckoned. The rusted hinges broke when I opened it. The evening twilight refused to enter the darkened hole.

"Are you feeling well?"

The worry in Wyst's voice meant much of my witchly inscrutability had fallen away. I would've reassured him, but I wasn't certain how I felt. There were so many thoughts and emotions welling up that I couldn't pick out just one. I descended into the earth, and in the darkness, I found the past I'd left behind so long ago. This was the countryside of my birth. I hadn't recognized it because I'd only seen it once while living in Ghastly Edna's charge. I'd worn a cowl then and kept my eyes closed most of the time. Sunlight had bothered me much more then. But I knew this place.

My cellar.

Wyst's shadow filled the door. "Witch?"

I placed my hand against a rotted support beam and found an omen in the splintered grooves. "We camp here tonight."

Newt's silhouette appeared between Wyst's feet. "Here? In the basement?"

"No. You can camp outside."

"But there's at least another hour of daylight," said Newt. "Shouldn't we keep going?"

"Tonight comes the next trial. Here."

"In the basement?"

I wasn't feeling very witchly at the moment and threw him a glare that never climbed out of the darkness.

"And what do you mean another trial?" he said. "Already? We just had one yesterday Nothing for weeks and then, two trials right atop one another. Where's the sense of pace to this quest?"

I wasn't in the mood for this. And sometimes, when a witch gets properly annoyed, her magic responds unbidden. A breeze swept through the cellar and up the stairs.

"I would think whatever force was in charge of quests would quack quack quack quack."

I smiled. Then I frowned because a witch should never allow herself to do magic by accident. Especially malicious magic.

Newt kept on talking. Or trying. "Quack quack quack." He cleared his throat. "Quack quack quack." He drew in a deep breath and expelled one last disgusted duck call before disappearing from the doorway.

Wyst dared step one foot in the dark that I'd called home so many years. "Witch, are you certain you're well?"

I glanced up at that handsome face. In the darkness, his eyes seemed to shine. "Certain? Can anyone be certain of anything?" It sounded vaguely witchful, but I was off my game. I decided not to settle.

"Certainty is for fools and death." I liked that, even if I didn't really understand it myself. The phrase reminded me of what it was to be a good witch.

I stepped deeper into the dark, where the shadows enveloped me. "We camp here. Now leave me."

He hesitated.

My voice grew soft and scratchy. "Leave me."

Something must've reminded Wyst of what it was to be a White Knight because he withdrew. His face went blank, and he vanished from the door.

Magic didn't act on its own. It acted on the will and desires of others, and I had to wonder whose will had guided me here. It could've been Nasty Larry or Ghastly Edna from beyond the grave. Or Soulless Gustav. Or even myself. I didn't know the who or why of it, but I trusted to discover it in time.

I stood alone for some time. The light filtering through the door faded. It was an overcast night, and my cellar became a black emptiness. A hole in the ground filled with nothing, just a scarcity of memories.

My childhood hadn't been much to remember. There was the spot at the bottom of the stairs where I'd waited for my meals to be thrown to me. There was the corner where I'd eaten those meals. And there was the other corner where I'd sat and slept between those meals. Countless days, but really the same day over and over and over. This place meant little to me now. It hadn't meant much to me before. I couldn't even remember my family. My life truly began the day Ghastly Edna had pulled me from this hole.

In another world, another time, an explorer of this cellar might easily find a hideous, terrified creature huddling in the dark, abandoned by her family and too frightened to leave this dusty void. A beast to be feared, despised, and pitied. The me that never was but so easily could have been.

Harsh light burned away the dark. Wyst of the West descended the creaking stairs. I kept my back to him. I only knew it was him by scent. I had a predator's nose when it came to men. They were my curse's meal of choice.

The shadows fought against the invading lantern. It had been a long time since their sanctuary had been challenged, but they could only hiss and writhe and fight among themselves.

"Witch?"

I didn't turn to face the White Knight. "Yes?"

"Will you be spending the night down here?"

I lowered my head and closed my eyes. "Perhaps I will."

He moved to the left, judging by the shifting light. I turned my head away. The lantern seemed so terribly bright.

"And the trial, are you certain we face it tonight?" asked Wyst.

"We do not face a trial tonight." I raised a hand and watched the silhouette play against the wall. "I do alone."

"By yourself?"

I offered no reply as none was needed.

Wyst stepped closer. I covered my eyes.

"But..." He stammered. I'd never heard him stammer. ".. . aren't we . . . working together?"

"We are, but this next trial is one that only I can defeat. You, the others, will only get in my way."

"But.. ."

I turned my face to him and forced my eyes open. I could only squint, but I hoped it was a mysterious squint. "There are things which must be."

He raised his lantern higher. The rabid shadows refused to fall across his pleasing face. Wyst of the West held out a hand. He closed it into a fist. Then opened it. Then put it atop his head and shrugged. He turned and moved toward the stairs.

"Wyst." As much time as we'd spent together, this was the first time I'd spoken his name.

"Yes?"

"I have a favor to ask you."

The cellar grew so quiet, I could hear the shadows whispering. I was very close to forgetting the whole affair, but he offered me courage.

"You only have to ask."

I couldn't look directly at him. "Could you hold me?"

Wyst remained rigid and silent. I tried to read his face and found only earnest sobriety.

I suddenly felt very foolish.

"I'm sorry. But I have glimpsed the creature I might have been, and I was hoping to find the mortal woman I should have been. If only for a moment. But I should've known even simple embraces are against your oath."

"They are"—He set down his lantern and clasped his hands together—"discouraged."

"I shouldn't have asked. My apologies."

He moved before me and put a hand on my shoulder. "Discouraged. Not forbidden."

And just like that, he took me in his arms. Gingerly at first. I had little experience in physical affection, and he was pre sumably out of practice. But it wasn't so complicated. We leaned into each other. His arms circled just above my waist. My hands rubbed his back in small circles. I nuzzled his neck. My hat fell off, and I didn't care.

The shadows ceased muttering at the sight.

Wyst was so warm, and his touch triggered the heat within my cold, undead flesh. The cellar seemed a frozen hollow. My heart beat faster. My skin tingled. My stomach twisted.

This was what my curse denied me. I could savor it for only a moment. The trust. The warmth. The imperceptible made tangible, given form in this man. I suspected nothing could be better than this. Except for possibly ripping out his throat and lapping at the sweet blood gushing forth. Probably not even that.

My stomach rumbled loud as thunder. At least, it seemed so to me. I was reminded of what I was. I pulled away. It wasn't so easy. My arms let go with great reluctance, and I sensed some resistance from Wyst. Or maybe only imagined it.

The invisible mark on his forehead flickered, and I knew I hadn't. Wyst's purity remained intact, but beneath the White Knight was a mortal man. Unfortunately, I'd rediscovered the accursed fiend within me as well.

He said nothing. He turned, picked up his lantern, and stared up the stairs.

"Wyst, thank you."

He paused at the door and spoke so softly I barely heard him over the chattering shadows. "You're welcome."

Then he was gone, and I was left in the basement again. I wasn't alone anymore. On one side hunched the creature I might have been. On the other stood the woman I should have been. In this forsaken place, both were as real as the witch between them, but there was another world atop those stairs. A world where only one of us was true. So I bid them good night and many good tomorrows and ascended from this pit into the night.

The others were camped around the front of the cabin. I followed the sound of irritated quacks. Everyone was waiting there but Wyst, who was nowhere to be seen. But his horse was still here. He couldn't have gone far.

Penelope dragged herself to my side. Her tryst with the road had left her exhausted.

"Enjoy yourself?" I asked.

She raised into the air and bobbed.

"Very good, dear, but you should learn to pace yourself. Now go rest."

No sooner had she floated away then Newt stood before me. He quacked once and glared.

"I vote to leave him like that," remarked Gwurm.

Newt shouted something rude at the troll. Though I was fluent in duck, I didn't bother translating.

"He's been like this all night. Persnickety and foul-tempered. More so than usual. Maybe you should change him back after all."

I waved a hand. Newt belched and instantly began questioning me. Demons don't learn lessons easily. "What did you do to the White Knight? He didn't say a word after coming out of that basement. Strangest look on his face. I don't like it. You shouldn't be consorting with him by yourself. It's dangerous."

I smiled. "Life often is."

"Where's your hat?"

"I must have left it in the cellar." Absently, I ran my fingers through my silken hair. "I don't need it right now." I glanced into the overcast sky, just bright enough for my undead eyes.

New scowled. "And when is the next trial anyway? I'm getting tired of waiting. Does the magic think we have nothing better to do than sit here all night?"

I put a finger to my lips and shushed him. He bit his tongue. I guess he'd learned his lesson after all.

"My apologies, mistress."

"Quite all right. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to face the next trial."

"By yourself?" asked Gwurm.

I nodded.

Newt stood in my way. "But, mistress, I'm your familiar. My place is by your side."

"Not this time."

I stepped around the duck.

"What happened to your limp?" he asked.

I hesitated at the edge of darkness. "Oh, that. I don't need that either. Wait here. I'll be back shortly. Or not at all."

I slipped into the night and went in search of my trial. My thoughts were elsewhere, but an omen in the clouds told me I wouldn't be looking for long. It was already waiting for me in the overgrown fields.

Two shadows rose from the grass. One was a skulking ghoul. The other was a slip of a young girl. The creature that I might have been and the woman I should have been. Reflections given substance through powerful sorcery.

"You didn't really think to leave us in that basement?" asked the ghoul.

"We will always be with you," said the woman. "We have always been."

"I know. We all carry many selves, but in the end, these are just phantoms of possibility, nothing more than ghosts of broken destinies."

The ghoul cackled. "Ghosts no more."

"So I see. But even the greatest sorcery can't serve three fates from a single portion of destiny."

"Yes," said the woman. "And that is why only one of us will walk from this field."

"And I shall be that one," hissed the ghoul.

"We shall see, sister," replied the woman.

None of us could kill the other because, at this moment, none were true enough to die. This was why neither Wyst, Newt, nor Gwurm could be of any help. Only I could return my shadows to the nether from which they'd been summoned, and I could only do this by keeping them from snatching away my identity. Reality was on my side. Yet this might not be enough. Reality was a fickle ally at best.

The ghoul struck first. She was my curse unchecked by Ghastly Edna's witchly lessons of patience. The woman stood back, smiling as if victory were already hers.

The ghoul leaped, hands outstretched to wrap around my throat. As if she could throttle her existence from me. As if I could be slain by strangling. Her technique was instinctive and direct, but I was her match in speed. I struck her across the jaw with a backhanded fist. She fell to one knee.

The ghoul raised her head, grinning. Blood dribbled down her chin. "Very good, witch. You stand revealed for what you are. A creature of strength and power. Do you not feel the gush within your undead heart when you call upon your curse? Do you see now that all your magic is just a trifle? It will let you down one day. But your curse, that shall always be there for you. For me."

The ghoul darted to one side faster than I could follow. Raking claws tore open my face. I raised a hand to defend myself, but she ducked aside. Her first attack had been a feint. She was quicker than she'd let on.

A fist smashed into my back and knocked the wind from lungs that didn't really need air. "Surprised, witch? Fast as you are, deadly as you are, I am far deadlier." She latched on to my throat and squeezed until vertebrae cracked. "I am your physical power developed to its ultimate. Beside me, you are a weakling. Where is your magic now?" She dropped me into the grass.

I sat up. My breath was ragged. My face was bloodied, and a terrible rage growled within.

"You can't deny it. You want to be me, to feel the certainty that I feel. To know your purpose without question. To seduce and slaughter and glut yourself on delectable mortal flesh. Your conscience is your misery. It is a burden that I don't have, and a burden you yearn to be rid of."

I was tempted, and I felt my reality trickle into the ghoul. Her murky body thickened as mine darkened. I could see her now. Truly see her. She was a hideous creature, every bit as flawless as I, but there was more to beauty than full breasts and green eyes. Her movements were jerking. Her eyes were full of fiendish hunger. Her lips ever snarled, even as she grinned. Her hair was a shimmering black tangle falling like a cape across her back.

I ran fingers across my stinging knuckles and torn face. There was truth in her words, but it was a small truth.

"Conscience is my burden, but all worthwhile gifts have their price."

She shuddered. The stream of existence reversed, and she began to fade.

"But it could be so simple," the ghoul hissed. "Why hold on to that which only makes your life difficult?"

"Because life is complicated and difficult. Anyone who says otherwise hasn't truly lived."

She melted into the earth, but not without one last gasp. "I'll be back. No one can resist their nature forever."

I didn't deny this. To do so would have been arrogant, and arrogance would have been the first step toward her prediction.

"One day, witch, you will wake up to discover I have become you."

"Maybe one day. But not tonight."

The ghoul faded away to a black spot on the ground.

"She never had a chance," said the woman.

"She had a chance." My wounds disappeared. They had never been real. "Just not much of one."

The woman stepped before me. "I, on the other hand, have already won."

"I know."

The stream rushed into the woman. My stolen substance filled her. She was a pretty creature, not nearly as beautiful as I. But I could see myself in her slightly plumper figure and soft brown eyes.

She lowered her head. "I'm sorry."

"You only take what I offer."

It was a strange thing. I didn't surrender myself to her because I hated what I was or because mortality was all that tempting a fate. I liked being a witch, and I'd grown accustomed to my curse. It denied me little. Nothing but the one desire I couldn't ignore anymore.

"He won't love me," she said. "I may be you, but I am not the you he knows."

It was true, but it didn't make any difference. I loved Wyst, and my heart fantasized that as a woman, he could love me back. It was an unlikely dream. Even if I weren't undead, he would still be a White Knight. Dreams are rarely founded on truth, and this sorcery drew on my deepest wishes. I couldn't change those. Even with magic.

"I'm sorry" The woman wiped a tear from her eye.

I sank into the dark earth and for an instant I knew what it was to be a ghost of destiny. But it was brief, even for an instant.

Magic, not my own, crackled through the air. The earth spit me out, and I snapped back into truth. The woman fell at my feet. I felt a terrible pity for her, but she just smiled ever so softly before fading into oblivion. The second trial was finished. Once again, I was alone.

The woman may have been my heart's desire, but my curse was more powerful than this sorcery and my innermost yearnings. Nasty Larry denied my escape even through altered destiny.

I could've become the ghoul. The curse wouldn't have minded, but Ghastly Edna had saved me from that. Her education had given me more than magic. If she'd been here, I would have thanked her.

She would have most certainly replied, "We all save ourselves, child, even if we are fortunate enough to have help along the way."

Smiling, I offered her silent thanks anyway and headed back to the camp.