Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
‘ W itch! Witch!’
I bolted upright, knocking Arwyn’s arm off me. Daylight shone in through the wooden slats of the stables wall, highlighting motes of dust that danced around us. How long had we slept for? It had to have been hours, but it was as if I’d only just closed my eyes.
My body was still asleep, whereas my mind was completely awake. I scanned the empty stable, searching for whoever had just shouted, but it was empty beside Arwyn and the rats lurking in the stacks of straw.
‘Did you hear that?’ I asked. Damn, my head ached. How strong was that mead? I pressed two fingers into my temple, massaging the discomfort away.
‘Impossible not to,’ Arwyn whispered, standing slowly. There was no room for ‘good mornings’ between us, or the time to contemplate that we had just spent hours lost in each other’s arms.
Unlike me, he wouldn’t be feeling the aftereffects of the mead. One slight movement and my brain felt like a potato floating within soup. ‘Stay here. I’ll get a look,’ he said.
‘Witch!’ came the scream again. The tone was almost familiar, as hysteric as it was excited. ‘I saw her in the wood. She was dancing naked around a fire, speaking in tongues. Witch. She’s a witch!’
Arwyn’s warning to stay put faded as we both sprung up. In tandem, we said the name of the person we knew was being accused. ‘Eleanor.’
But we couldn’t have been more wrong.
As we exited the stable, dressed in clothes more appropriate for this time period, a bird swooped down from the blue sky. It followed behind a crowd that paraded up the main street. I’d recognise those blue-black feathers anywhere.
‘Caym?’ I said aloud, drawing Arwyn’s attention.
‘He’s back?’
I lifted a finger and pointed towards the crow. There was no denying as those beady eyes fell on me as he continued to fly chasing the crowd.
No, not a crowd. A cavalry of Hunters. They were back with their bounty. And it was like Caym was attempting to stop them, swooping down to attack faces and horses.
‘ Found Romy—got into some trouble—stall for me.’ Caym’s inner voice was broken and panicked. He spoke quickly, without breaks, blending the three separate sentences into one.
My hand clamped over my chest, pressed to the painful thump of my heart through bone. ‘Romy,’ I whispered, searching for her amongst the growing crowd.
Arwyn was watching me, but I was trying everything to concentrate on the bond between Caym and I. It was weaker than it had been before, almost quieter. But even if he whispered across hundreds of miles, I would’ve understood the word he said next.
‘What did he say?’ Arwyn asked, grasping my shaking hands.
‘The witch,’ I said, louder this time, the noise from the crowd thunderous, ‘It’s Romy. The Witch Hunters have Romy.’
Arwyn held me in return, propping me up with strong arms, his brow knitted in concern. ‘Calm down. Breathe. Nothing is going to happen to Romy. We are all getting out of this alive. I swear it.’
I reached out for my Gift, but it was as silent as ever. Usually, with the power behind me, I could face anything put before me.
Perhaps I felt the set of eyes on me, or maybe it was the magic of a witch’s intuition, but I looked up just at the moment Eleanor Letcombe exited her house. Our gazes locked. I knew I didn’t need to explain what was happening for her to understand the severity.
‘Help us,’ I mouth, making Arwyn follow my gaze to find who I was communicating with. ‘Please.’
Eleanor gritted her teeth, looked towards the gathering crowd of Witch Hunters and village-folk in the heart of the village, then turned her back on me. She went back into her house and closed the door. I was confident I heard the sliding of a bolt even from our distance.
So much for the greatest witch of our time.
My head ached, my mind grasping for a plan. But whenever one came to mind it slipped away, like a feather caught on a breeze. Then I was running, running towards the Witch Hunters and the screams of accusations. Arwyn chased behind me, calling my name, but it didn’t matter. All I cared about was reaching Romy.
‘ Back off , Caym .’ I forced out the command to my familiar. ‘A wild creature attacking Witch Hunters, will only point more fingers at Romy. It’s not natural.’
‘It is beyond that now, Hector. Her guilt has been decided, death awaits her. You gave me a command to protect her, and now you want me to stand down?’
A circle formed around the village’s main square. I clawed my way through the wall of people, pushing them out of the way until I saw Romy. ‘Yes, stand down until I tell you otherwise’
Caym’s frustration pierced me like a hot poker, but I didn’t care. Not as my eyes finally settled on Romy. She was being tied to a wooden post that I first believed to be a maypole, or something put there for some other benign purpose. Turned out villages in the fifteen hundreds just erected wooden pyres for the fun of it. History forgot that detail.
Romy’s hair was wild around her face, her expression oddly calm for the situation. I willed for her to look at me, but her gaze was pinned to another. I followed it, just as the person she glared at spoke out.
‘I saw her. Communing with the devil, offering her soul up to him.’
Even after everything I had seen so far, it was this person which turned my blood to ice. Jaz, the earth-witch contestant of the Witch Trials. She stood amongst the crowd, dressed in similar clothes, blending herself in just as Arwyn and I had. No doubt she had killed for the clothes, snatching the material from the corpse of an innocent person.
Jaz’s finger was levelled, pointing towards Romy. If looks could kill, Romy would’ve sliced Jaz’s body open with her eyes alone, rooted through her organs, and left them a tangled mess of death.
Arwyn must’ve noticed her too, because his grasp on my upper arm tightened. ‘Now isn’t the time for running in and being the hero.’
‘I can’t leave Romy to die,’ I said through gritted teeth.
‘That’s not what I’m saying we’ll do.’ Arwyn’s gaze swept around the bustling village. ‘If we could break down the shield around the village, we could get our gifts back.’
‘It won’t work,’ I said, mind swimming. ‘Eleanor said her blood is the key. Only she can break the shield down, and I get the impression she doesn’t want to help.’
‘Then we fight,’ Arwyn said, head jolting towards the line of Witch Hunters.
I longed to spin around and punch something. To crack my knuckles into a Witch Hunter’s jaw. Instead, I fixed my eyes on Arwyn, pleading and desperate.
‘Please don’t let her die,’ I begged him. ‘Help me.’
‘Hector,’ Arwyn breathed, his sky-bright eyes flashing with mischief. ‘You’ll be the death of me. I sense it.’
He leaned in so suddenly, I thought he was going to kiss me. My instinct was to turn my head, so my cheek was offered and cover my mouth with my hands. No one kissed me. Not Arwyn, even if he tried to make a spectacle more damning than a witch being found dancing naked in the forest. But instead, he leaned into my ear and whispered, ‘one chance, that’s all we get.’
Then Arwyn spun on the man beside him, cocked a fist and drove it into his face. I was knocked backwards, just as Arwyn spun again and smacked another man in head. All whilst screaming, ‘my wife is no witch! Leave her. She is no servant of the devil. She is mine .’
If I thought chaos ruled the village before, I was wrong. Witch Hunters ran towards Arwyn, who fought with a skill no man in this time should possess. He was able to take a sword from a Witch Hunter’s belt, using it to keep the growing crowd around him away.
‘Caym,’ I shouted to the sky. ‘Time to come back.’
My familiar speared towards us, a bullet made of feathers. I spun on my heel and ran to the pyre. There was a handful of Witch Hunters fussing over Romy, who did nothing but smile at me. I had two choices—fight my way around them, or go through them. But fighting was certainly the joining thread between the two.
‘Excuse me, good sirs, but you’ve got the wrong woman,’ I said, mocking a bow. One of them held a burning torch, which Caym promptly snatched from his hand, flying it skyward before dropping it into the river. ‘My sister is a devoted child of god.’ As if to help my case, Romy began wailing what could only be a prayer right from The Book of Blessings. ‘The real witch is?—’
I turned, finger pointed towards Jaz, but she was gone. Where she had stood, screaming her accusations, there was now an empty spot. I scanned the raucous crowd, but the witch was nowhere to be seen.
I found another instead. Standing in the beyond the fighting crowd, Eleanor Letcombe waited. My breathing hitched, catching in the back of my throat, her name planted on my tongue.
Out the corner of my eye, I watched Arwyn be knocked to his knees. There were a few bodies scattered around him, groaning and rolling, clutching wounds or groins in agony.
‘Me!’ Eleanor screamed, answering my unanswered accusation. ‘I am the witch you seek.’
All eyes fell on her. Silence ensued. This would’ve been the moment that her neighbours denied the claim, knowing Eleanor was the only thing keeping them safe from the demons beyond the stone circle. But no one spoke up. No one stopped her. Not as Eleanor shrugged her shawl to the floor, raised her hands to her side and began chanting.
Storm clouds billowed in the sky at her back, gathering behind her like dark wings. Lighting flashed in the distance, as Eleanor encouraged the return of last night’s storm with a few words. This magic was strong. Winds ripped through the village, powerful enough to shove me back a step. And around her eyes, a circlet of blue spun.
I’d never felt magic like it. Until now, there had been a faint, strange humming to the air. Like a static charge captured in Eleanor’s stone circle. But this—this conjuring was horrifying and beautiful. The first wave of Witch Hunters who ran at her were knocked to their feet. Eleanor raised her hand towards them, holding it like a claw. The Witch Hunters she focused on writhed in pain, screaming for God or anyone else to help them.
Arwyn used the distraction to get up and run to my side. Every Witch Hunter ran towards Eleanor, leaving Romy unguarded.
‘Eleanor is giving us some time,’ Arwyn said, breathless, a dribble of blood running down the side of his mouth. ‘Let’s not waste it.’
I thrust the sword into his hands. ‘Cut her bindings.’
Arwyn didn’t need to be told twice. I tore the cloth from between Romy’s teeth, freeing her to speak.
‘Thanks,’ Romy said, bubbling with nervous energy.
‘Are you alright?’ I said, searching for signs of wounds or blood.
‘I’ll be fine once we get out of here.’
‘We’ve got you,’ I said to her, appreciating her smile but recognising that it must be hiding a tremendous amount of anxiety. ‘Coven, remember?’
The storm continued to rule the sky, the magic making the air feel thick as mud. Arwyn waded through it and used the sword to slice Romy’s bindings, freeing her.
Romy was looking out across the crowd, her brows pinched in fury. ‘Where is that bitch? Where’s Jaz?’
‘Gone,’ I said, ‘for now.’
Romy sagged forwards, her hands and feet free from the pyre.
‘And we need to do the same, and quick,’ Arwyn commanded, guiding us both away from the stake. If he didn’t wrap his arm around my waist, I would never have moved. I couldn’t take my eyes off Eleanor. She certainly had the power to save herself, but the way she looked at me, the sorrow weighing heavy in her brow, suggested otherwise.
I knew how her story ended, regardless of if I was ever a part of it. Seeing her then, surrounded by the Witch Hunters and their iron blades, made me long to scream at her to run. But Arwyn pulled me away before I got the chance.
We rounded to the edge of the nearest building, cowering behind it, just when my theory was proved right. Eleanor withdrew her magic, silencing the spell and severing the power in a second. The clouds dispersed and the winds simmered to a natural rhythm. Eleanor withdrew her hand, cutting off the power she held over the Witch Hunters.
Then, as one, they took her.
‘No!’ I screamed, but it was in vain. No one heard me over the roar of the crowd. Arwyn pulled me to his chest, clasping a hand over my mouth and another around my waist. I tried to fight free, but it was useless.
‘ Save her, Caym ,’ I pleaded through our bond. My familiar was circling the sky, his hesitation hot as fire. ‘ Please, save her. ’
‘ The witch has put something against me ,’ Caym squawked. ‘I cannot assist. She is blocking me.’
Eleanor’s grimoire weighed heavy in my inner pocket. I felt its presence like a boulder against my skin. I clutched it, unable to understand what magic she had used. Not only did she conjure a storm, control human bodies like puppets, and now keep my familiar away, I felt as though she was protecting us. Because it was like we never existed to the Witch Hunters. None of them questioned the empty stake, or Romy being missing. Their focus was on tying Eleanor to it, binding her hands and feet, stuffing rope between her teeth to prevent more hexes or curses.
‘Please,’ I muttered into Arwyn’s palm. He withdrew his hand enough that I could form words aloud. Hot, furious tears wetted my cheeks. ‘We need to help her, Arwyn. After everything she’s done for us.’
A new presence entered my mind. It was warm as summer sun, as soft as petals and sweet as nectar. Caym was banished from my mind, as though there was no room for him in my thoughts as the new voice entered it. It was Eleanor, her voice a guiding light.
‘I would’ve perished in time. This was always how my story ends. You must endure this, Hector Briar. For me, and for you. I swear, my death will be a price paid, to ensure all future witches are protected from those who wish to seek us harm.’
I prepared to reply, but just as soon as Eleanor entered my mind, she was gone. It was no wonder the Witch Hunters feared powerful women—and Eleanor was the greatest of them. A witch with access to magic we hadn’t seen in centuries. And there she was, tied to a stake, as a Hunter re-lit a torch and brought it down to the stack of straw at her feet.
It caught. Fire sparked.
The crowd watched, fire reflecting in their eyes. Eleanor held her head high, chin jutted out as she surveyed her own people, people she’d protected with her blood, who’d turned their back on her the moment she needed them.
Eleanor wormed the rope out of her mouth, ire bubbling over in her gaze.
‘After everything I have done,’ Eleanor called above the licking flames. ‘You see me as a stranger. A demon. I have healed your pains, served to ensure your children were brought into this world alive and well. I protected you from monsters of shadow, beasts that you claim that I am infected by…’
Something darkened Eleanor’s tone. Even the flames that began creeping up her skirt and legs, shifted shades until they were almost black. I watched as Eleanor lifted her eyes over Witch Hunters and the crowd of humans, to something beyond. Not something—someone.
‘ Bahmet, I call on thee. I wish to make a deal . Bahmet. Bahmet. Bahmet .’
I didn’t realise I was fighting against Arwyn until Romy had to help hold me back. Caym flew down to me, joining their attempts. My throat bled with pain as I screamed and screamed, watching as the fire crawled from the straw, over the hem of Eleanor’s dress and up her body. Tongues of destruction lapped up her flesh.
We all heard the next sound. A cracking. Like the splitting of a mountain, or the breaking of earth. Then came the screeching. Far in the distance, a cloud of demonic birds had gathered. They speared towards the village, but instead of stopping at stone boundary, they flew right in.
Her shield was down. Eleanor had broken it, shattered it, and brought true evil into the village.
‘Run,’ Arwyn shouted, ‘we need to run.’
Run? The concept wasn’t even an option. Because if the shield was down, my gift was back.
It rose in me like a hungry viper, poised to strike down everyone who watched Eleanor burn. Unbridled fury overwhelmed me as I took a step forwards.
Arwyn was suddenly before me, placing his body in front of me. ‘I can’t let you do that, Hector. This is the trial. Go against the natural order of time, and you will fail.’
‘Does this look fake to you?’ I asked, shouting over the screaming crowd as dark birds tore into humans, all whilst Eleanor laughed amidst the fire that devoured her.
‘It is real, but it is also not. Remember what we are here to do. Remember why we must survive.’
Another hand, softer but just as strong, grasped my shoulder. Romy. She came in to my side, pleading the same. ‘Please, Hector. I know this is hard. But we must endure this.’
It was the same request Eleanor had asked of me.
The scent of burning flesh fondled my nose as the billowing smoke rolled out across the village. It engulfed it, a wave of dark grey smog. It drank everything up from view, sweeping over Witch Hunters and humans alike, racing towards where we hid.
‘Can you hear that?’ Romy said from my side, her face pale from horror.
I couldn’t hear anything but the spitting fire and hissing flesh. Not the cheers of the Witch Hunters and the crying of those who watched the guardian of the village perish. It was all swallowed by the smoke.
As silence engulfed the scene, I caught the deep rumble of a bell. Eleanor’s words repeated as the wall of smoke moved towards us. You must endure this.
The Trial was over. And yet the fire still burned, and Eleanor still suffered. I had to act. I sent out a blast of my power, unsure what I wanted to achieve. But the billowing cloud of darkness had formed a wall. Just like the dark fog that had brought us here dispersed against my gift, it happened again. But it wasn’t to reveal what I was expecting.
Red burning eyes. Horns. The face of a goat on a man’s body. I blinked, unsure what I’d seen as the darkness swelled over it, swallowing the strange being whole.
‘Don’t let go of me,’ Arwyn commanded, wrapping his arms around me. There was another toll of a bell. Arwyn, Romy and Caym pressed themselves into me just as the smoke reached us, swallowing us like the mouth of a beast.
I expected it to smell like Eleanor’s burning flesh, but it was scentless and quiet. All I knew, as the ringing of a bell continued to toll, was we’d completed the second trial.
The Enduring.
I just never realised what it could’ve meant, not in my wildest of dreams. And as the smoke deposited us in the great hall of the castle, back in our time, the reality of what had been done to us weighed heavy on me. As did Eleanor’s Letcombe’s grimoire, which still rested in my pocket, proving that everything that had happened was real and not a vision fabricated by magic.
‘It’s over,’ a deep voice sounded at my side, a gentle hand running circles across my back. ‘It’s over.’
I looked up, through eyes full of furious tears, to find Arwyn knelt before me. Behind him was Romy, her fingernail caught between her teeth. I didn’t need to look around to know Caym was missing. He’d not been brought back into the Witch Trials. Whatever magic ruled this hallowed ground still kept him out.
For now .
‘No, it’s not,’ I replied, standing to survey the room. Groups of witches stood around, equally displaced from the Trial. I watched the back of a white-haired man leave the room and knew it was Salem. He was running before I had the chance to act. He knew I’d figured him out. But it was actually another witch I searched for, not Salem.
That was when the clapping began.
Jaz watched us from across the room, a smug grin plastered across her face. ‘Well done, you passed. All of you.’
I took a step forwards, delighting in the rising wave of my Gift. But a body stepped in front of me, a hand placed on my chest.
Romy stood in my way, her lips curled in a snarl. There was something about the danger in her eyes that froze me. And when she spoke, it was as if the words were knives. ‘She’s mine, Hector.’
I held Romy’s furious gaze, nodding as I knew that she’d deal out punishment as she deemed fit. ‘Make her pay, for Eleanor.’
‘Oh,’ Romy’s eyes brightened as the ruby circlet spun around her iris. ‘I intend too.’