A Nameless Witch

26

Soulless Sustav's cottage was more of a two-story wooden palace, simple in design but impressive nonetheless. It was early evening by the time we reached it. This was mostly a guess. I have trouble measuring time in the real world, much less a place where night and day came at a sorcerer's whim. Soft light shone from the cabin's windows. The large, crescent-shaped pane over the door sparkled in a rainbow of colors.

"I vote we keep going," said Newt. "Why give the sorcerer more time to prepare?"

I laughed, and realized how much more I was doing that. There wasn't anything wrong with it. A laugh can be very witchly when soft and throaty. "This quest will not be decided by a few passing hours, and I doubt Soulless Gustav is preparing anything."

"What if this is a trick?"

"It isn't."

This didn't comfort his suspicious mind. "How do you know it's not a trick?"

I could've explained to him that my vision told me everything I needed to know. Four trials made our quest. The chimera had been trial by combat. My ghosts of destiny had been trial by strength of self. Trial by peril had been found in our effigies. Trial by magic was the only one remaining, and this could be nothing but the final duel between Soulless Gustav and myself. I could've told Newt this. But I didn't.

The cottage door opened when we drew near. A scar-faced man stepped onto the porch. I recognized him as one of the men that had killed Ghastly Edna or, more accurately, an illusion cast in the exact same form. This one was clean and unarmed. It made it all the easier for Newt to cut off the man's head with a single swipe of razor sharp wings. The corpse fell over and sizzled away.

A fresh servant, same as the last, stepped into the doorway. Newt moved to kill this one too, but I stopped him with a clearing of my throat.

"I'm at your service." The phantom spoke with perfect enunciation. Too perfect. The words sounded as if chopped from other sentences and pasted together. "A warm meal awaits you all in the dining room." He stepped out of the doorway to allow us to enter. "And there is an excellent stable just around the corner, good master Knight. Shall I take your horse?"

Wyst refused to hand over the reins.

"Very good, sir. Allow me to escort you so that you might inspect its quality."

He looked to me for approval. Unlike Newt, Wyst trusted my judgment. It was a great honor. A White Knight's loyal steed was his most valued possession, next to his virtue.

I smiled and nodded.

He nodded back and patted his horse's neck. "I'll find it myself." He disappeared around the corner.

"I'm telling you," said Newt, "the second we step inside, it's going to become a giant serpent head and swallow us all."

"I was thinking something subtler," said Gwurm. "Like perhaps it would shrink until we were all smashed to a pulp."

"So you agree then."

"I might if I weren't so hungry." He was the first to walk through the doorway. "Is that roast boar I smell?"

"Fresh off the spit, sir," intoned the servant. "I do hope you like it tender. The meat is practically falling off the bone."

I followed, catching the scent of a tantalizing variety of raw flesh. "Coming, Newt? Or would you rather stay outside with Penelope?"

My broom had immediately taken it upon herself to scour the porch of every offensive speck and mote, no doubt left there for her by Soulless Gustav's considerate sorcery. Even for a cleaning implement, she could be terribly obsessive when it came to dust. She swept by Newt and hopped at him to get out of her way.

"I still say this is a trap," grumbled the duck as he followed me inside.

The cabin was well lit by dozens of lamps, but not too bright even for my undead eyes. I'd never seen such exquisite tapestries and rugs. Then again, I'd never seen tapestries and rugs, save for the worn, utilitarian carpets of Fort Stalwart. I had an eye for stitching, and their quality was obvious. Had they been real and made by mortal hands, they would've taken years to craft. The one with an embroidered image of Soulless Gustav, standing tall and smugly grinning, was especially impressive. It was so vivid, it could be mistaken for the genuine article. Its eyes even seemed to follow us. It added a touch of dread to the cozy atmosphere. I admired the sorcerer's sense of style.

A banquet was set before us on a long table by the hearth. It was a wide table, but there wasn't an empty space. Soulless Gustav knew his guests. It was mostly meat, mostly raw or blood rare. A small bowl of fruit was present for appearance, and a loaf of fresh bread waited for Wyst. The food was all genuine, not illusion. A most thoughtfol importance as a phantom feast would sate our hunger without nourishment. Where Soulless Gustav found reality in this phantom realm was a mystery I didn't give much thought.

Gwurm and Newt warmed themselves by the hearth. I kept away from it and enjoyed the remaining chill of evening.

The servant gestured to a staircase. "You'll find your sleeping accommodations upstairs. I'm certain they'll be to your liking, but should you need anything, please clap for me. Now unless you'll be needing me for anything ..."

"No. We're fine." I noticed the tremendous crystal chandelier over our heads. It caught every beam of candlelight and reflected it in a cascade of colors.

The servant dismissed himself as Wyst returned from the stable. He seated himself beside the bread, folded his arms, and studied the loaf.

Gwurm prodded the roast boar with his fingers, which he then licked. Newt eyed the troll.

"Well? It's poisonous, isn't it? It has to be poisonous."

Gwurm took a rib and sucked the meat off it. He rolled the flesh from cheek to cheek, poking it with his tongue while chewing. He shrugged, swallowed, and gobbled down the bone. "Seems fine." He sat and tore off the boar's snout. "Excellent, just the proper chewiness."

Newt turned his back to the table. "I'm not eating any of it. If it's not poisoned, it's something worse. Your guts will probably rot away now."

"Some things are worth the risk." Gwurm swallowed a juicy red apple and an uncooked rabbit in one bite. He must've liked the two together because he tried an orange and hen combination next. It met with a satisfied grin.

"You're going to regret eating that," muttered Newt.

"Probably," said Gwurm. "Boar gives me heartburn. Pass some of that goose over, would you, please?"

Newt perked up. "Did you say goose?" He hopped onto the table and licked his bill over the succulent bird.

"You eat goose?" Gwurm stuck out his tongue.

"It's my second favorite."

"But you're a duck."

Newt closed his eyes and inhaled the goose's tempting aroma. "A carnivorous duck."

"Yes, but, well, it just doesn't seem right."

"Birds eat birds every day."

"Big birds eat little birds," said Gwurm. "That goose is twice your size."

"And perfectly seared." Newt smacked his bill. Demons are suspicious by nature but they're also easily tempted. He stood poised over the goose indecisively.

I did him a favor and helped him make up his mind. It was an inevitable decision anyway.

"Is that duck I smell?" I asked.

"Duck? Where?" He found his prey, a raw bird on a platter, and attacked. He tore off a wing and gulped it down.

Gwurm grimaced. "Now that is definitely just wrong."

Newt was far too busy tearing into his meal to bother with a curt response.

I took the bread and cut a thick slice that I offered to Wyst. He accepted it with a smile and passed a plate of raw turkey strips. We ate in silence, save for the crackle of the fire and the tearing and crunching of duck frenetically feasting upon duck.

"I'll say this for Soulless Gustav." Newt belched. "He knows how to treat a guest."

"He's mad," I said, "not rude."

Wyst excused himself. "I want to be rested for tomorrow"

I didn't contradict him, but he wouldn't be facing Soulless Gustav. Not if I had any say in the matter. After he'd climbed the stairs, I clapped once.

"Yes, mistress?" The servant was just there suddenly. Not materializing from nothing. More like he'd always been there, just unnoticed.

"I'll need a bath drawn. And a change of clothes."

I paused, expecting Newt to say something discouraging. He was too contented to bother with even a displeased glare.

My bath waited in a room on the first floor. Like the servant, the room seemed to have not been there before and yet perfectly in place. The long tub was filled with ice-cold water, just as I liked my baths. I stripped naked before the phantom and slid into the water. The servant pointed out the variety of soaps and perfumes and a wardrobe that should possess whatever clothes I needed. Then he was gone again, back to his unnoticed oblivion.

I didn't bathe often. I didn't really need to. My accursed nature did enough to keep me beautiful, but I enjoyed a nice, chilly bath every so often. It'd been too long since I'd had one. Not since I'd dipped myself in the lake the day Ghastly Edna had died.

The recollection made me smile. I missed Ghastly Edna, but she'd sent me to that lake with a purpose. I now knew that purpose. She'd known Wyst of the West would spy me, and that this would be laying the seeds of desire in his heart. Tonight would be her last gift to me.

I enjoyed my bath for an hour. I waited for the water to wrinkle my fingers. It didn't. It never did. I pulled myself from the tub and picked through the perfumed oils. They were all quite lovely, but none could match my own natural scent, a subtle mix of flowers and strawberries along with a new aroma: fresh bread. No doubt added by the magic because Wyst would like it.

I studied my form in a full-length mirror. I hadn't looked at myself, really looked, for a long time. I'd forgotten just how beautiful I was. My flawless, smooth skin was without a freckle. My figure was lean, yet blessed with the soft curves men wanted. My eyes sparkled. I was perfect, and even if a man's desires leaned toward blondes or short women, my curse made up for that.

I found exactly what I wanted in the wardrobe. The silky gown couldn't be more unwitchly. It was soft and sheer and hid little. I slipped it on and smiled, despite myself. Even if I couldn't be a mortal woman, it was nice to indulge in those pleasures I normally denied myself.

I wasn't quite ready to go upstairs yet. I crept outside. Both Newt and Gwurm sat by the fire and didn't notice. Penelope waited on the immaculate porch. She tilted to one side, then the other. Then floated a circle around me. She gave her approval with a hop and a twirl.

"Thank you."

"So are you going to mate with him or eat him?"

The gray fox sat at the bottom of the steps.

"I'm surprised you followed us into this false land," I said.

"I'd come too far to turn back now. Not when things were getting interesting." She grinned. "I only regret that as a simple fox, I can't appreciate it all."

I looked to the moon and pondered whether it was genuine or merely a reproduction.

"You didn't answer my question," said the fox.

"How do you know I want to do either?"

The fox laughed. "I may only be a beast, but if there are two things we beasts know, it's eating and mating. I've watched the way you look at that man. Sometimes, it's with the desire of a female for a male. Sometimes, it's with the gnawing of an empty stomach. Sometimes, it's both."

"I didn't think it was that obvious."

"Everything is obvious when you look for it. So is it mating season for witches? I think he'd father excellent offspring."

As did I. "I can't bear children."

"Neither can I," she said. "But when the season rolls around, I seek out a mate anyway. Even if I haven't birthed a litter in three seasons."

"Too bad," I said. "The world could use more clever foxes."

"The world could use a great many things."

I descended the short stairs and sat beside the fox. "I don't know what I'm going to do. I think I might do both."

She nibbled at an itch in her tail. "I've never been one to play with my food. Although I do enjoy batting around the occasional field mouse."

I stroked her between the ears. "I don't want to kill him."

"I suppose if you just bit off a few less necessary parts, but that would be more of a snack than a meal."

My stomach whimpered.

"Can I offer some advice?" said the fox. "I've never had anything I wanted to both eat and mate, but the logical thing to do would be to mate first, then eat. That way you get both pleasures."

"I don't want to eat him."

"Ah, I know the feeling. I once stole an egg that I didn't want to crack because once I ate it, it would be gone. But I knew I couldn't be happy just looking at it." She settled her head on my lap. "That's the question you should ask yourself. Can you be happy just having him?"

"I don't know, but I think it's time to find out."

I invited the fox in for a bite to eat, and she accepted. I introduced her to Newt and Gwurm. Newt was more interested in my unwitchly raiment.

"What are you wearing? You can see . . . all your . . . naughty bits."

Penelope threw herself between Newt and me. I didn't need her defense and gently nudged her aside.

I grabbed a sharp knife from the table. "I'm going upstairs. Behave yourselves." I used the plural, but I looked at Newt.

"Good luck," said Newt.

"Remember," added the fox, "mate first. Eat second."

"Rip out his throat," grumbled Newt.

Penelope followed me upstairs. Each footfall seemed heavier than the last. I didn't understand exactly what trepidation gripped me, but as I neared Wyst's room, it grew Ghastly Edna had taught me not to fear failure or horrible death, but she'd never prepared me for this. She'd once said, "It's easy to defeat life-or-death ordeals. Such tribulations demand success. It's the small tests that require something more from us. When we can turn and walk away is when we find what we're made of."

I stopped at Wyst's door. I reached for the knob but stopped short. I considered turning back. So long as I didn't open that door, I could always live with not knowing.

Penelope nudged my elbow.

I stood there frozen. I even stopped breathing. I ran it over and over through my mind. Could I really live without knowing? What if he turned me away? What if I killed him? What if he was forced to kill me? There were so many questions, and every answer seemed wrong. I was no closer to making the decision when Penelope finally made it for me.

She rapped on the door twice and floated behind me as it opened. Wyst stood there. He didn't say anything. His face remained blank, save for the soft arch of his eyebrows.

I suddenly felt very self-conscious. I didn't mind being practically nude before anyone. Anyone but this man. I was a creature of flawless, accursed beauty, and he loved me. Knowing didn't seem to make any difference. I wanted my thick, black frock. Maybe a hat. Even a shawl to drape across my shoulders would've been nice.

I kept my hands by my side, resisting the urge to hide my body behind folded arms. I swallowed a lump in my throat.

"May I come in?"

His eyebrows rose another notch. He glanced down the hall, back to his room, and back at me before moving aside. I stepped into his room. Penelope stayed in the hall. I whispered a thank you to my broom as I closed the door.

His room was cozy. I was too distracted to notice anything but the bed and a folded blanket lying on the floor.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"I was only meditating."

The meditation of White Knights must've been a strenuous practice. He was slightly out of breath. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and his entire body was tense. Or maybe these were due to my presence. He could only look at me from the corner of his eye.

It was terribly hot in this room. I paced to the window and opened it a crack. Wyst was reflected in the spotless glass. He studied my back, unaware I could see his glance wander up and down my body. I put my fingers to the window and traced the image of his strong, pleasing face.

"Is something wrong, witch?" He spoke softly. The first time I'd ever heard him mumble.

I was woefully inexperienced, but I was a creature made to seduce. I trusted my instincts. I turned slowly, allowing Wyst to enjoy my form from all angles. Then I glided to him, literally floating a hairsbreadth off the floor. My gown billowed upward, revealing my perfect legs. His already tense body tightened. I drew close but didn't touch him.

He turned his face from me. "What are you doing?"

I put a palm to his cheek and turned his face back. He closed his eyes.

"I can't do this."

Words could say much, and they said all the more when there were so few. He hadn't said he wouldn't. He'd said he couldn't. Can't is for things you mustn't do, yet you know you will.

He put a hand to my hand as if to pull it away. "I've taken a vow, a sacred vow."

I ran my thumb across his soft lips. "Tell me to leave, and I will." I did my best to sound as if this wouldn't bother me.

"I need my virtue," he whispered. "Without it, I'll be no match for the sorcerer."

"With it, you are still no match."

He withdrew half a step. "I can't let you face him alone. I have to protect you."

Again, his words said much. His resistance didn't come from his vows of purity. It stemmed from his love, his desire to keep me from harm. I understood more than he knew. We were so much alike, but unlike my burden, his could be put aside.

"You can't protect me from my fate, Wyst. And you won't meet Soulless Gustav tomorrow. That is my battle alone. You've done everything you can for me. There is only one favor I have left to ask of you ..."

I moved as close as I could without touching him. The heat of his body washed over me. The lanterns flared with my rising desire. I wanted to throw him down and force him to love me. But it was his decision to make.

He stared into my eyes and bit his lower lip.

"When I meet my destiny tomorrow, Wyst, I will greet it gladly, without regrets. Save one. Unless you see fit to grant me one last favor."

"I can t."

I put a finger to his lips. The lanterns dimmed.

"They're just words, Wyst. They say much and mean nothing. Empty syllables carried on whispers, that's all they are. If you can deny me, deny yourself, without them, I'll go."

He ran his fingers through my hair and smiled sweetly. "I can't..."

"No words."

We drew closer.

"But..." He sounded parched.

I put my hands on his chest and felt the pounding of his heart. The warmth of his flesh seared my palms. His hand slipped down my neck and slid the gown from my shoulders. I ran my calf along his thigh. Strange, how natural it all was. As if I'd done this a thousand times before.

We kissed. I couldn't remember who kissed who. We just suddenly were. My stomach grumbled. The fiend within wanted to bite off his tongue. I could feel the gush of tangled veins in his throat, just begging to be ripped out.

I pulled away, and it was his turn to be puzzled. "I have to warn you. I might kill you."

I handed him the knife.

"If you feel you must, drive this blade in my heart and save yourself."

The knife clattered to the floor. He took me in his arms and kissed my neck. He whispered softly in my ear.

"Some things are worth the risk."