A Nameless Witch

29

I'd hoped not tohave to do this final thing. Truth be told, I'd expected to be dead and not have to. Every victory comes at a price, and this was mine. I took Wyst away where the others couldn't overhear. Nothing had changed between us, but everything else had.

"I should be angry with you." He took my hand. "But you saved my life."

I smiled. "No. You saved mine."

He took me in his arms. It felt so right, so perfect, but it could never be.

"Wyst..."

He held me tighter. "We were meant to be together."

It was a romantic notion. I would expect no less from a White Knight. A force beyond our control had indeed brought us together. Her name had been Ghastly Edna. But another power kept us apart, and his name was Nasty Larry.

"I'm never going to let you go," he whispered.

I listened to his heartbeat. I could feel every throb of veins, every gush of blood. His embrace was a wonderful fantasy, and I enjoyed it just a moment more. Then I pushed him away. He couldn't hold me. I was much stronger than he was.

I wanted to hide my eyes, but I looked him in the face. "We are what we are, Wyst. We can't be anything else."

"I can."

"No, you can't. You are a champion of righteousness, and this world needs you far more than I do."

He put a hand on my shoulder. "This world will get along just fine without me."

"This can only end badly, Wyst. I am accursed. Every day my appetite grows. One day, maybe tomorrow, maybe a year from now, I will devour you. Or you will be required to kill 35 me.

"I could never kill you."

"I know. That's why this can never be." I put a palm against his chest to keep him from drawing closer. This was harder than I'd fathomed. "One day, I would kill you, and I would become everything my curse intended me to be."

Wyst cupped my chin. "You won't."

"I would. Unless you promise to kill me when the time comes."

He closed his eyes. "I could. If I had to."

"If only I could believe that." I kissed his cheek. "You've given me a wonderful gift, but even if you could change who you are, I would always be what I am."

The truth was a jagged barb. I wanted to believe he would kill me. I wanted to believe that devouring him wouldn't be so terrible a thing. I was too good a witch to believe a lie.

Wyst had no more arguments. I think, like me, he'd known this was the only way it could end. Though he might deny it, Wyst was a White Knight body and soul, and White Knights were defined by their sacrifices.

"There isn't a place for us in this world. Only in that phantasmal kingdom that no longer exists." I took his hand and gave him my moldy squirrel hide. "This was a gift from the first person who ever meant something to me. I pass it onto you. To remember me by."

The hide smelled of dust, and most of the for had been worn away. Wyst rubbed it between his fingers with a soft smile.

And then, I kissed him one last time. A soft touch of closed lips. Anything more, and neither of us would have been able to walk away.

He wanted to argue, to find a justification, some hidden truth that would make this possible. I desperately wanted him to, but even all the magic in this world couldn't keep us together. It was difficult, but the both of us had faced difficult truths before. We were certain to face many more in the future. None so difficult as this last one for a good long while, I hoped.

He closed his eyes and drew in a soft breath. "I'll always love you."

"I know." I turned away. "I'll always love you too." It was a whisper, but he heard.

"Wait." Wyst of the West stood straight and inscrutable, every bit the stolid White Knight. "I'd like to give you something."

"You've given me enough already."

Our eyes met for the last time. Neither of us smiled. We were a witch and White Knight again.

"One last thing," he said. "To remember me by."

"I'd like that."

He gave me my gift. He took his horse by the reins and went in search of his lost purity. The gray fox met me halfway back to my companions.

"Off on your own again?" I asked.

"No, I'm going with the Knight. I think he has interesting possibilities."

"Watch over him for me."

"I will because you can't."

I stroked her muzzle and bestowed her with a touch of magic, a small enchantment to extend her years and allow her to speak with one White Knight. "Thank you."

She grinned as sly and canny as a clever, curious fox could. "It's the least I can do for allowing me to share such an entertaining journey." She ran after Wyst. He slowed that she might catch up.

It may have been morning in Soulless Gustav's dream, but it was a little past midday in the real world. I noticed the sun for the first time in all its vulgar brightness and pulled my hat low over my eyes. Somewhere in that small distance to my companions, I left behind the trappings of mortal womanhood. Only the trappings. Everything important, all the feelings and joys and memories, those would always stay with me.

I allowed myself one last unwitchly smile.

I said nothing as I met my companions and kept on walking. They knew enough to follow without being told. Penelope floated beside me and gently nudged herself into my hand. She held herself tense in my grip.

"I'm fine, dear. You don't need to worry."

She relaxed.

"You aren't limping," observed Newt, "and you should tuck away your hair."

I chuckled silently. I'd just defeated the greatest sorcerer alive, and my familiar still felt compelled to instruct me in what it was to be a good witch. I should've shown him his place, but I decided to be charitable.

"Where are we going?" asked Newt.

"Back to Fort Stalwart." I listened, and I heard the magic for the first time. It was a soft, gentle voice, full of mischief. "They will have need of a good witch again. And soon."

"Will there be bloodshed?"

"Mayhem and danger, certainly. Bloodshed, perhaps."

The promise of such was enough to satisfy him.

"So what did Wyst give you?" asked Gwurm.

"How did you know he gave me something?" I said.

"Just a feeling. You gave him your squirrel."

"He didn't give her anything," said Newt. "You were watching."

"On the contrary, he gave me many things, both ordinary and beautifol. But perhaps, least importantly he gave me a name."

Newt perked up. "What is it?"

I smiled.

"You aren't going to tell us."

Silence was my only reply.

I didn't expect him to understand, but it was enough to have the name. Letting others hear it would have robbed it of its worth, made it a mundane, ordinary thing. I didn't want to share it. I wanted it all for myself. Now I truly was The Witch with the Unspoken Name. Or, more truthfully, the Witch with the Name That Had Been Spoken Once. But that was a bit long and awkward, even for a good witch.

"I still don't see what good an unspoken name is," said Newt.

"Then you've never heard the story of Nameless Walter," said Gwurm.

"Wait a minute. If his name is Nameless Walter, then he can't be nameless."

Gwurm chuckled. "Ah, but therein lies the tale ..."

I only half listened as my troll began the story. It was an amusing and colorful fable, but my mind lay elsewhere. Some part of me still wanted to turn back and run to Wyst, but being with him would only make me into the monster I was supposed to be. In the end, it would destroy everything worthwhile he'd given me. Knowing this made it less difficult to walk away, but it didn't make it easier.

I wanted to glance one last time over my shoulder, but there was no reason to. Looking behind would only show me the things I'd seen, and everything of importance I could always see. Every time I smelled fresh bread. Whenever I closed my eyes. Or the caress of a breeze on my lips.

And every time my name was never spoken.