Witch, page 5
“I’ve already said—” Randy started, but Kevin waved his hands desperately and cut him off.
“But what if he is out there?” Kevin asked, his eyes pinched and tight. Randy checked himself, then slowly nodded.
“All right, Kevin. I won’t come with you. But I will make you a promise.” Randy paced toward the man, clasping his hand and pulling him close, staring him in the eyes. “If Guhtred the Black kills you and Doug, he will die by my hand, whether now or the future. I swear to God.”
As if in answer, a great thunderclap rolled in from a distance.
“I think he heard you.” Kevin giggled, and then hugged Randy too quickly. Randy was stiff, but Kevin didn’t seem to notice. “That will suffice, Randy, that will suffice indeed,” Kevin said. Then he gave one last mad laugh and turned to follow Doug away from Randy and toward the legendary Guhtred the Black.
The next morning, Randy woke in a fevered sweat. He got up and rubbed his head. He’d dreamed of Guhtred again. He had been near Langenville. Randy remembered the strange set of rock features that draped the outer edge of the woods there. The same woods, of course, that contained the witch.
Guhtred … what had Guhtred been doing. He couldn’t remember. He was so tired.
He heard a knock at the door.
“Randy?” It was his mother. “You all right in there?”
Randy rose with a groan and stumbled over to the door, pulling his tunic into place as he moved. He opened it and saw his mother’s concerned face.
“Yea, I’m fine. Bit of a headache. Why do you ask?” He rubbed his bleary eyes.
“Just sounded like some shouting in there, that’s all,” she said.
“Ah, sorry. Bad dream,” he said.
“Makes sense, all this Guhtred business. So awful that a murderer like that could be so close! Well, breakfast will be on shortly,” she said and was about to turn when his voice stopped her.
“Ma, I might ah, I might go out hunting for a bit. I’m feeling pretty restless.” The idea had come to him when Doug had mentioned hunting. And he did feel like he needed to get out of town for a bit. These dreams.
His mother’s face looked stricken.
“You’re not, you’re not—please don’t go after Guhtred, Randy. Just stay home where it’s safe. You’ve proven yourself enough.” She was almost begging him, tears in her eyes.
Randy shook his head.
“Ma, I’m just going hunting. I’m not going to be anywhere near Guhtred. I’m going the other way, into the woods to the east. And I’ll stay close to the village, within a few hours’ hike, just in case you need me.”
“All right,” she said, tears still streaming down her cheeks. “You should tell Kenyon, though, he’ll want to know what you’re up to.”
Randy glared at that, but she was already on her way back to the house.
Randy growled all the way up to Kenyon’s house. He didn’t like feeling like he was beholden to the man. Still, he had said he would do his best to protect the village. He wasn’t backing out of that, he just knew things they didn’t.
He saw Kenyon outside of his house, and he was taken aback to see the man tilling his fields. It wasn’t the kind of thing that you saw influential men doing in the cities. But he supposed that being the richest man in Oaktree wasn’t far from being the most important drone in an anthill.
“Kenyon,” he said, and the man smiled as Randy approached, his gray hair flowing down his brow.
“Randy! How is our loyal protector this fine day?” The man walked quickly toward him and shook his hand vigorously.
Randy gave a careful smile back.
“I’m well, or … I’ll be honest, I’m feeling a bit antsy. I might go out hunting in the woods to the east. Maybe I can grab some deer or boar or something with a bit of fight in it. I’ll stay within a few hours’ hike. You can send a signal if you need me, and I’ll see it and hurry back.” Randy spoke quickly to avoid giving the man time to object.
And perhaps it worked because Kenyon was nodding.
“I understand, Randy. The lure of being the man to kill Guhtred the Black is too strong for a man like you to sit at home. You have to go. If we do have need of you, I’ll have the friars light the church tower’s torch. You’ll know we need aid. Be careful out there, Randy. And come back with Guhtred’s head!”
He slapped Randy on the shoulder, and Randy frowned but nodded and turned away.
“Good luck Randy!” a villager called, and Randy nodded, his face grim.
He continued to walk out of the village. He’d made his preparations—his sword and bow were on his back, and he wore toughened leather.
All of the villagers thought that when he said he was hunting, it meant he was hunting Guhtred. But Guhtred wasn’t what was on Randy’s mind.
He wondered if he should even bother with his original plan. But, of course, he should. He left the town, headed east, and began walking along the path to the forests there. As he exited the town, he saw someone up ahead on the path, about halfway between him and the woods.
It was Candle.
“Candle,” Randy called as he got closer. “What’s got you hanging out in the middle of nowhere.”
“Heard you were planning a hunt,” Candle said. “Thought I’d come to see you before you left.”
“Oh,” Randy paused. “Well, that was nice of you.”
“Sure thing, friend,” Candle said, and Randy waited, but the man said nothing. After a moment, he shuffled his feet, planning to make off, but then stopped and finally said his piece.
“Everyone thinks you’re going to head east like you’re going to the forest, but then you’re turning northwest toward Langenville, where Guhtred was seen.”
“I noticed,” Randy said. “I can’t help what people think. I’m just feeling a bit antsy, but I’m going to go chase deer and rabbits, not assassins.”
“Yea, a lot of people think that you’re going to chase Guhtred. But there’s somewhere else a man might go if he turned toward the northwest.”
The words gave Randy chills, and he glared at his friend.
“I’m not going northwest, so it doesn’t matter,” he said, his voice like ice.
“If a man turned northwest, he might just turn a little farther west and go into the woods to the west. He might even find a witch there.” Candle looked at Randy pointedly, but Randy just shook his head.
“I suppose someone could do that, but I’m not going to. I just want to get out of town for a while. I’ll bring you some meat for a stew. I promise.” Randy slapped the smaller man’s shoulder, but the little man didn’t smile.
“She’s dangerous, Randy,” Candle said, looking so stern Randy had to try not to laugh.
“I believe you. I’m not going there, okay? Can I go now, Dad?” Randy rolled his eyes.
“All right. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Candle shrugged, and Randy shook his head one more time as he walked away. Imagine being that afraid of a thin young woman in the woods.
Of course, Candle was exactly right. As soon as Randy was out of sight of the town, he turned northwest, just as everyone expected him to. Then, when he’d hiked a few hours farther, he turned west toward the woods—he turned toward the witch.
This time, as he stepped inside the forest, the path seemed to part for him. He wondered at that. Had he simply been out of practice at finding his way through woodlands? But no, he’d tracked his way home just weeks earlier. How could he have missed this path that seemed faint but clear? He wondered too at the strange warmth he always seemed to feel when he came into the forest. It was so dark, it should’ve been colder than the village but …
Maybe it was stones. In the mountains, Randy knew of places where the water would run hot even though there was snow all around. Maybe it was something like that.
There were symbols carved into some of the trees, runes, and effigies hanging from trees alongside the lanterns. It was still strange, strange how quiet it was but at least ... was there a slight breeze now? He breathed out, smiling ruefully. It was just a typical, dark forest. He’d always known that. The stories had been getting the better of him.
As he walked along the path, he saw a small hovel up ahead. He frowned. It looked well built, quaint even. Wooden planks with a thatched roof. Had this been there before? He would only have been forty yards from it the last time he’d come here. And yet the fog had been thick, and the forest was dark. But this must be where she lived.
He crept forward, looking around him as he inched closer to the cabin. The breeze was gone, and it was so quiet he could have heard a mouse whisper.
He stopped in front of the door. There were several bones arrayed in a crude pattern on the door. He looked around him once more, swallowed hard, then raised his fist to knock.
Dropped his fist.
Raised it again.
Then the door opened, and he stepped backward, his eyes wide.
Celia stood there, her height and eyes striking in the dim light.
“Randy, you came to visit after all,” she said, beckoning him to come inside. He followed behind her, looking around the little cabin, bemused. There were shelves and jars all over the sides of the walls. He did a double-take as he looked at the jars. One held the tongue of a great beast, another the beak of a bird of prey, the teeth of a hunting cat, and more. Perhaps most alarmingly, bones were arranged in symbolic patterns hanging from the ceiling timbers. He looked at her sharply, but she didn’t seem to notice as she handed him a small drinking horn.
“What’s in this?” he asked, looking at the cup. Then he gestured at the walls, his eyes still wide.
“Wine,” Celia laughed. “Are my walls so frightening? The symbols and bone art are a bit much for some people. But I like them.” She smiled. “And they protect me from harm, give me strength, etc.”
“Sure,” Randy said, and if you say so, he thought. “And all the jars?”
“Some of the things in those jars are quite rare. Ingredients for charms and potions and such. They’re very valuable.”
Randy shook his head, not knowing what to say. You really believe the head of the snake has magical powers? He wanted to shout, but he stayed silent.
“I’m a bit surprised you chose now to visit,” she said and beckoned him to sit down on a chair made of fur.
“What makes you say that?” he asked, slumping in the chair.
“Guhtred the Black, the famous murderer, is afoot, and the heroic Randy is here instead of out hunting him? It’s not what I expected.” She sat across from him.
“How’d you hear about that? Guhtred isn’t out there.” Randy snorted.
“Sometimes women will call me from the edge of the woods, looking for charms and potions. Sometimes I answer those calls. You sound so certain. How do you know he isn’t there?” She looked at him keenly.
Randy looked away for a moment, chewing his lip softly. He shook his head after a moment.
“I suppose I can’t be certain. It just doesn’t make any sense. He wouldn’t come here. And if he did, he wouldn’t let himself be seen.” Randy shook his head again. “I don’t believe it. Wait, you’re saying women come into the woods sometimes?”
“They typically don’t come in, though, as you know young Eyrie did. But yes, looking for charms and potions and such. This Guhtred rumor has caused more women than usual to come in, though. You’re lucky to find me here.” She gazed at him with intensity for a moment.
“Hmm. They’re looking for protection,” he said, looking over at an adornment of charms and chains, many with bone symbols like the one she’d given him so long ago.
“Some.” She smiled. “There were two women who hoped to be loved by Guhtred.” Her eyes danced, awaiting his reaction.
“People want to attract that monster?” Randy stood, wrinkling his nose.
“Dangerous men are attractive, Randy. Or haven’t you found?” Her face was unreadable.
Randy shook his head roughly.
“I’m not dangerous. I’m just Randy. Just an ordinary soldier from the middle of nowhere.” He shook his head.
“You think if you tell yourself that often enough, it will start to become true?” she asked. Her expression had not changed.
“If we’re talking about things out of the ordinary, shouldn’t we start with you? You live in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by all this … stuff. Why would you want to live like this?”
“This is an enchanted forest, and I’m a witch.” She grinned happily.
“Really, that’s what you’re going with?” He spat in disgust.
“You really don’t—” she began, then stopped, and her expression became serious. “Do you know how they test to find out if someone is a witch, Randy?”
The world seemed to go still at her words. His mind unbidden took him back to somewhere he wanted to forget.
There were nearly seventy men and women strung up to the great pyre at Glerester. They screamed for help and mercy. Even the most hardened of Prince Danforth’s marshals shuffled uncomfortably. But all of them were looking at the mask of Guhtred the Black. And the mask held no mercy, and the terrible black eyes of the man underneath held still less.
“No,” Randy whispered. “I don’t want to see this.”
“Randy?”
The voice hovered at the edge of his consciousness, then faded. The general and principal assassin for Prince Danforth swung his arm above his head, then brought it down with a swift motion. The soldiers began striking torches to the bottom of the pyre, grim looks on their faces. None of them dared make eye contact lest he be accused of weakness.
The pyre began to smoke, and both the soldiers and those on the pyres coughed. The screams for mercy continued, and then slowly, they changed to screams of panic and pain. The smell of burning flesh filled Randy’s nostrils. Sometimes he thought the smell would never fade from his memory. Randy stared at a woman on a pyre, her flesh crackling as she screamed her hate and defiance. Finally, mercifully, the screams began to abate. But the burning continued. And the great smoke cloud rising over top of Glerester would tell all in Wemblia that Guhtred the Black was not to be trifled with.
“Randy? Are you all right, Randy?” she asked, and everything seemed to stop.
He stared at her for a long moment, then swallowed hard before he answered.
“Fire.”
A strange howl seemed to come from the night. If anyone else had been there, they might have sworn that a chill wind suddenly came through the room.
But Randy was not superstitious, and he never felt the cold. And if Celia did, she gave no sign. Instead, she spoke into the silence.
“That’s right. They burn you, and if you’re not a witch, apparently, you won’t burn. But I’ve never met anyone who wasn’t flammable, have you?” There was a hard edge in her golden eyes, and he found himself reaching out to her, brushing her face with his hand.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I’m sorry for what happened to you.” His voice cracked, but she fell into his arms at the words. Her head melted into his chest. Her leathers clung to her, and he realized she was soft and slight beneath them. Her neck touched his, and his mouth opened at the touch. He wrapped his arms around her. He could feel her heart beating quickly against his chest. He stroked her hair softly, and she shook slightly. He wondered if she was sobbing, but he couldn’t tell.
After a moment, her head came off his chest, and she looked up into his eyes. She was so close, so close to him. Her golden eyes gazed into his. Her lips trembled a hair’s breadth from his. Her body seemed to cling to him. She was feather-light in his arms. He drew a ragged breath.
“Should I …” he said, and before he’d finished the sentence, she slammed herself into him, her lips pressed against his with force. He pushed back against her, lifting her slight form and pushing her back against the wall, kissing her deeply. He cried out as she bit him, and then he stared at her with the eyes of a madman, wrapping a hand around her throat and pushing her back before throwing his mouth onto hers once again.
She fumbled at the drawstrings of his trousers, gasping in delight as they slipped to the floor and her hand found his throbbing member. He moaned as she rubbed him, kissing her until the desire became too great, and he gripped her waistband and ripped her leathers off and onto the floor. He turned her away from him, biting the back of her neck as she rubbed her backside on his hard cock. Finally, he pushed her forward, and she bent over so he could enter her.
“Oh my god,” she gasped, and he laughed.
“Never thought I could make a witch cry for god,” he whispered in her ear, and then he was driving himself into her, feeling his pelvis slam into the roundness of her backside repeatedly. She was shaking, and the floor was wet with her, and he couldn’t breathe. He pulled away.
He turned her so she was facing him she wrapped her legs around him as he entered her again. His eyes widened as she used her legs on his back to force him even deeper inside.
“Tell me you love me,” she commanded. And at that moment, he did. “Good god, I love you,” he screamed. “Slap me,” she screeched at him, rage now in her eyes. He struck her. “Harder,” she commanded, and he hit her harder. “Harder!” she growled, an animal in his grasp. He struck her viciously, and she turned back, blood on her lips. “Tell me you’d do anything for me,” she glared. “Anything,” he gasped, and then he finished inside of her and fell on top of her, where she kissed him desperately, and he tasted her blood, still emptying himself inside of her.
He lay there in a trance, barely aware of his surroundings. His chest heaved with exertion, his muscular form slick with sweat in the torchlight. The scenes replayed in his mind over and again. The way she’d looked as her legs were shaking, as he had been inside of her. The sounds she made echoed in his ears. He would do anything to see her that way again. Anything to feel her that way again. Anything.
