Witch, page 16
The street grew quiet. I drew Dill closer. She gripped me back.
‘Come on, Peter,’ whispered Anne. Far away came the cries of the crowd.
‘Evey, where will we go?’ Dill’s voice was scratched by the noose. ‘He will follow. I know he will, Evey.’
‘Shush! I knows it, Dill!’ I stopped. That was wrong. I wiped dirt from her cheek. ‘Don’t you worry, I will find us a place. We will be free of him. Just you see.’
She nodded, as she bent her head to my hands. And I fought the ache in my throat, for I did not know where I would go, or what I would do. Only that we must run, as far and as fast as we could.
I heard a horse, its hooves echoed about us, like it rode the very walls. Was this soldiers coming? I hefted my blade, ready.
Peter flew towards us, Shadow flecked with foam.
‘Come! Come quickly!’
From back down the street, came shouts and croaks. My kin would nest them all.
Anne kicked, and with Peter beside us, we turned that last corner, and saw the city gates there waiting. Guardsmen held them open to the road beyond.
‘Hurry, now! I have told them a stampede is on our tail!’
We charged, pushed and urged those horses to go ever faster.
‘God save you, sirs!’ Peter called out to those watching guards. ‘The herd is frenzied by dogs! Be away from here! Save yourselves!’
And they stepped back to see us pass, our mighty parade.
Dill, all bare legs and tattered dress.
Anne daubed all gold and white.
Peter surging ahead.
And me, my bright blade aloft.
‘Yes, make way!’ I laughed to see their mouths agape. ‘Make way, for this is our day and will be ever more! This fine and glorious day of the witches!’
Then from town, at last, we were free.
‘This way, Anne!’
Tracks led every way, churned by wheels and hooves, yet Peter rode where the land grew higher, rising to a steep hill. As we climbed, I breathed the green sweetness, smelled earth and cow and rain.
‘They will be watching the roads. Better we head there!’
I followed Peter’s finger, ever inky and wise, to the brow of the hill where sat a crown of trees. And something stirred in me then, a memory woken.
‘Evey! Pass me the child, you will go faster!’
‘I ain’t no child. I’m Dill!’
Peter laughed, as she swung to his reaching arm.
‘And I’m Peter, and I beg your eternal forgiveness!’
Safe in his arms, she grinned. Dill and Peter, the fastest friends.
‘Hold tight, Dilly Doe!’
‘I will, Evey Bird!’
Once there was an Evey who would scorn her sister to hear that sing-song name. But then I saw it true, like all her gifts from the woods. It was a name she had found for me, and only me, and I was proud and pleased to hear it.
‘We can make it.’ Peter spurred on. ‘Then I will lead you after dark!’
The hill grew steeper, and we grew slower.
‘Do you see them, young Dill?’
‘It’s just Dill.’ She leaned out. ‘Not yet! Those crows have been so wily!’
I looked again to the trees, a crown of wood upon a green king. It was like I returned to somewhere I knew but had never been. I shivered for it.
‘Evey, what’s the matter?’ Anne’s voice stroked my aching bones. ‘Are you ailed?’
‘Nay, there’s no helping what we have, Greeneye.’
I sensed her smile in her cold grip. ‘Then we can only help each other.’
‘Quickly, now!’ Peter dropped to his feet. ‘Into the cover!’
‘They’re alder, Evey!’ Dill skipped to the waiting shade. ‘Like our wood back home…’
Our wood. Where we hunted with Mother and hid to watch her die. Seemed we had run so far yet stepped only from our door. I touched the trees, feeling the wind press those bodies.
‘Anne, bring the horses, they must not be seen! But we may see them…’
Dill hummed as she plucked leaves, smelling them with a smile. I put the stone in my pocket, but it stayed heavy on my thoughts.
‘Dill, my clever mite.’ Closely she watched Anne and Peter. ‘You know so much. What is the stone doing?’
Then she was gone, running to him. ‘What is that there you hold?’
He had a short cane, it was raised to his eye.
‘Evey! Come!’ Anne motioned to me.
‘It is a spyglass.’ Peter kneeled by Dill. ‘See, look through here…’
Dill raised the stick to her eye, then gave a startled shout.
‘I can see for miles! So close! I can see everythin—’ She gasped again. ‘Riders!’
I didn’t need no spy stick to see what she saw. Far below town lay, and as I watched, from its gates flew men on horses. Tall One was coming.
Peter took back his glass. ‘Excellent! Jacobs is sending men along the roads. We’ll hide here till night, then… Wait… There’s a woman. The one from the trial, she’s… she’s pointing this way.’
I looked to Anne. She didn’t need no spyglass neither.
‘It’s Grey, Evey.’ Dill prised the glass from Peter.
‘Yes, Dilly. It is.’ I drew my blade, as Anne lifted hers.
‘There is another way.’ Peter looked to us both, thoughts alight. ‘They know we’re on two horses. And they won’t have spyglasses. If we spring from here along the ridge, this Grey will see the horses and think we’ve fled. And I’ve got an idea where we can lead them.’
‘Or you could flee, Peter Merchantman,’ I said. ‘For Jessica. And for Fay.’
His eyebrow raised. ‘Do you know who my daughter wants to be, when she grows up?’
His smile became Fay’s. I saw her chasing apples, putting on her play, dressing me up.
‘Tall One’s shouting to Grey.’ Dill turned from the glass. ‘But she won’t let up pointin’.’
‘This is for her as much for you, Evey. For her future. All the futures of little women like Fay.’
And then Anne was there with the horses. ‘Let us go, cousin.’
‘No, Anne.’
‘Evey, I will find you.’ Her eyes were green jewels.
‘Take care of my spyglass, Dill!’ Peter rose to Shadow. ‘I shall return for it!’
With a gentle pull, for I could not stop her, nor never want to, Anne was upon Coal, and he was trotting through the trees.
‘And I for you, my friend!’ she cried.
I watched their horses leap from the wood, and drive across the hillside. Anne shouted to Peter, their heads bent to the wind. They were full of life, children again.
‘Evey, Tall One’s chasing now.’
I moved to Dill’s side, that spyglass pressed to her eye. We saw those riders split and scurry, give chase to my friend and her cousin. I could hear their hot shouts. It was working. Clever Peter Merchantman.
Dill dropped the glass, as though it scalded her hands.
‘Dill?’
She shook her head.
‘What? What do you see?’
I picked up that strange stick. A little hole at its end. I brought it to my eye.
It was like I had flown sudden, down that hill and landed among them.
I saw Tall One’s face so close, urging his riders to follow.
But. Where was…? I flew along.
There.
Grey hair whipping the wind.
She shouted, and shook her head, pointing up.
Back I flew to Tall One.
He bellowed. He raged. This witch was not listening.
I felt my other hand creep, feeling for the stone. It was warm. Waiting.
‘Evey, what are you doing? What’s happening?’
I watched as Tall One shouted to the two horsemen. They rode on.
Watched as he pulled his reins over, and veered round.
‘Evey, please…’
‘They’re coming!’ I rounded on her. ‘Peter’s plan didn’t work and they’re coming!’
The stone shook in my grip.
‘Evey, please don’t—’
‘Shush it, Dill!’
I didn’t care. I cared only to fly down that glass, down that hill, to find her.
I saw Tall One charging, his horse mad-eyed, champing at the bit.
I swung the glass, too fast across her smile. I moved back. Found her.
‘Evey…’
Grey was so far from me, but she looked straight, right at the woods, right at me.
‘Evey, please put down the stone.’
And my hand was shaking so much it hurt.
‘Evey!’
I would kill her. The stone had made me so strong.
‘Evey, let go now!’
I would throttle the smile from her.
I felt the spyglass move in my grip. Like a… Fast I took it from my eye.
A snake writhed in my fingers. It hissed, jaws opening.
Tearing in my hand. I was bitten. And the stone fell.
I cried out and hurled that snake away.
‘Dill!’ I fell into her. ‘Quickly, the snake.’
‘There ain’t no snake, Evey.’
‘There is, look…’
But only the spyglass was on the ground. No serpent of black and—
Grey.
I looked down to see her far below, still standing, still watching, as Tall One hollered ahead, like he was her pup, and she the proud parent.
‘It was her, weren’t it? Casting a spell through that stick?’
‘No, it weren’t.’ Dill picked up the glass. ‘It was you.’
‘Me?’ I turned to her.
‘It’s why I had to bite you. I am sorry, Evey…’ She hopped up, a little redbreast among the trees. ‘You were holding it. And you were thinking about her.’ She waved the stone, glinting in the shade.
‘I thought that was…’ I felt those fangs pressing, piercing. ‘It was so real, Dill.’
‘The stone is powerful.’ She took my hand, thin fingers pulling at mine. ‘And you are so strong, Evey Bird. It’s why Mother gave it me till you were ready. Come, now, I will help you.’
She put her arm about me, while I stumbled for understanding.
‘But, Dilly… Mother gave you her stone because you are so gifted… you know things I could never… you’re like Mother. I’m not like you…’
The words did not fit right in my mouth no more. I felt my cheeks grow hot with saying them. They made me sound like a silly jealous child. And I knew more than ever that I had left that child far behind.
‘Silly Evey Bird.’ Dill pushed back her black nest. It was like she heard that word in my mind, but she was so gentle, not teasing.
‘Mother gave me the stone to keep safe for you.’
She reached to stroke my cheek.
‘For you are more magick than all of us. You didn’t know it or want to know it.’
I stared at her, as the shouts rose, as the wind blustered, as I stood amid the shame of my memories. What I had thought, and harboured so long against her and Mother, was shedding from me like the skin of a toad.
‘Keep it safe? What do you mean, Dill?’
She pulled at each my fingers, counting them over, like when she was a kit.
‘Till you understood the stone better, Evey. Mother told me to help you. But you were too angry with her… and with me.’ She smiled, a flash of teeth under her billowing hair, then she frowned.
‘And the stone is so dangerous, Evey, if you…’
‘If you what, Dilly?’
Dill turned my hand and traced the cuts there.
‘The stone is our protection, Evey. We must do good things, always, to keep it so.’
I thought of it in my fist, a shield against a falling blade. Her fingers smoothed mine.
‘Your anger brought those crows. But it couldn’t stop them.’
I thought of Mother’s healing way. I thought of Dill’s care for creatures.
‘Even if we fight, Evey, like you fight so well,’ her fingers tugged at my thoughts, ‘we must do it with good in us.’
I looked to her, and from far above, I heard the low growl of thunder. Like Grey, dripping her poison to the fear that hid in my heart.
Feed it your anger.
‘Dilly, Grey tricked me. She told me things…’
But Dill turned and tugged the harder, urging me into those moaning trees.
‘Most likely!’ she shouted over her shoulder. ‘She’s a wicked witch, ain’t she? Come on, now…’
‘I think Grey wants the stone.’ I stopped her to listen. ‘But if she does, why didn’t she take it from me at the coven?’
Dill looked down to the stone in her hand, then back to me.
‘Mother always said the stone should be given or found, never taken, Evey.’
She hopped, itching to be among the smells of root and earth.
‘But… I took it… from you, that night.’
‘I knows it.’ She swung my hand. ‘It’s why I fretted for you so.’ Then she shrugged off her frown, and jumped on, bright as anything.
‘But it’s back now and so are you. Hurry up! You are such a slow snail!’
And she was away into the wood, her words rustling in the leaves.
Given or found, never taken.
I heard a cry behind us, and the hairs upon my neck prickled.
It was a hero’s bellow, for only heroes hunt young witches.
The wind whistled, made those tall trees thresh.
I smelled rabbit. A burrow of babes sleeping deep. Sudden I wanted to dig down and disappear, but I buried my worry instead.
‘You’re not going to hide, are you, Evey?’
She lifted the truth from my heart, as easy as she moved the stone in her palms.
‘I am not, Dilly. But I will lift you into—’
‘I ain’t hiding neither.’
She looked me straight and sure.
‘Dill—’
‘No, Evey, I ain’t sitting in no tree waitin’ to be picked. We hunt together,’ she said. ‘It’s the only way.’
I saw how fierce she was, her fury at what they had taken from us, this so-called hunter, this so-called witch, this dog, this bitch.
And as I heard the creak of saddle, the rattle of reins, I brought my little sister close, and breathed in her body, as both we remembered what we had run from, what we would run from no more.
‘Witches! I know you’re in there, witches!’
We crouched to watch him, our hunter.
‘I will flush you out, like the vermin you are!’
Tall One dropped from his horse, and slow drew his gun.
‘Grey ain’t with him, Evey…’
I watched that dog sniff for us.
‘She’s slid away. It’s what snakes do.’
She grinned. We were together, in our woods again.
His shape moved across the yellow light, black in the blacker trees.
‘I will make him fire aplenty,’ Dill said. ‘He will waste his powder to catch me.’ I felt her stroke my hair, as she readied to go.
‘Dill…’
I trembled for her loving touch, and for my worry to keep her safe, to protect her ever always. Though I had sworn to Mother, she was my sister, and I need never swear for that.
‘Don’t worry, my Evey Bird.’ Her eyes glittered, like those stars upon the stone. ‘Mother taught us too good. And you are stronger, sister, but I am always faster than you.’
She pressed her fingers to my lips, and I kissed them. How she had grown in these few days. Tall like the alder trees above us. And like them, she would not be pushed.
‘Till light be sought, my Dill.’
‘Till dogs be dirt, my Evey.’
My promise was her promise.
‘We fly for you, Mother,’ we whispered both.
My children.
Then we sprang to it. Daughters. Sisters. Witches who love to hunt.
The musket cracked. Bark burst to gold splinters.
But Dill was gone, a cartwheel of feet and laughter.
‘Damn you to hell!’
I saw Tall One bend to chide his smoking gun, as Dill jumped high to touch branches, like she climbed upon the air itself. She was right. She was faster than me.
CRACK!
‘Blast you, wild cat!’
‘Yes!’ Dill laughed and sprang on. ‘I am a cat! Raarr!’ Her fingers became claws.
I watched them move like paper puppets, the trees their stage, the hunter ever chasing, never catching his quarry, like a deer dancing forever beneath the flame of the sun.
‘Child, I will skin you alive if I waste another bullet!’
‘Not wasted, Master Jacobs!’ Dill cried. ‘We are having fun!’
How lithe she was, how her hair flowed, her slender arms sliding among the trunks of those trees, like they were her passing partners under the maypole.
‘Careful, Dill… Stay ahead of him, now.’
Above me I heard a sound of rustling. I looked up.
An owl blinked, a white queen awoken.
‘This way, Master Jacobs!’ Dill called. ‘This way!’
We had him in our embrace, my sister and me.
‘Devil take you, child!’ Tall One fumbled for his powder.
‘This way, Dilly… This way…’
For the hunter was hunted, and I heard the fear that rose in his voice, ringing in that wood, that home of our hearts, where we would bring balance for the wrong he did.
Closer, closer I watched him come.
Till silent I sprang, soft earth and seeds and leaves under my toes, and I saw his comely face now a sheen of sweat.
‘I will kill you both! Like I killed your mother!’
A shriek behind me. The white queen flew. Dill danced on.
‘I see you!’
A flurry of wings. He raised his arms.
‘Bloody birds! Get away!’
And in her wake, I flew too.
‘Mother!’ Dill cried.
‘Yes.’ And lifted my sword. ‘For Mother.’
‘Mother! It’s you!’
I turned.
And I saw who Dill saw there at the edge of the woods. A woman. I saw her long hair flowing black against the eye of the sun.
Mother.
Who kneeled and opened her arms to Dill.
And cried out to her daughter in a voice that made me ache.
