A Nameless Witch (21 page)
"I am cursed."
He laughed. "So I see. Afflicted with perky bosoms and soft lips and a nice, firm bottom. I generally prefer my woman plumper, but I must confess, I've never been more attracted. I assume the desire is part of your curse."
"It is."
"Excellent work then. My compliments to its maker."
A wind swept beneath me, raising my skirt. A stream of dust flowed between my feet to re-form into Soulless Gustav before me. "Nice legs too. Slender and supple thighs. Glorious calves. Never underestimate the appeal of a well-formed calf."
"Life is in the details." I wasn't about to let him know he'd struck a sore spot.
It was his turn to put his back to me. "You've come a long way to die, witch. Care to tell me why?"
I thought of Ghastly Edna, and this was surely the man who had taken her from me. My anger rose, but it didn't get the better of me. "Reasons are of little consequence. They are justifications for doing what we would do anyway. And who's to say I've come all this way to die?"
"The magic has shared its secrets with me. I have taken care of any obstacles to my better world before they could become a bother."
"The magic has shared a few secrets with me as well."
"Perhaps an exchange would be in order."
I stepped close behind him. "Perhaps not. If the magic really wanted us to know, it would've already told us."
"Excellent point, but you can't seriously expect to defeat me. My will is law here. That's the perfection of my dream. The old world is a turmoil, a jumble of a thousand thousand parts thrown together. My world shall be a marvelous unity. A creation of one will with one purpose: to serve me." He turned back on me. A sapphire tear rolled down his cheek. "Surely, you can see the beauty in that."
"Harmony, perhaps. Beauty, no. The world is a mess, chaotic and unpredictable and often inforiatingly uncertain." I glanced to the horizon at the troll, duck, and White Knight. Each has his place in my life, and each had become important in ways I never could have fathomed. That was why I valued them so.
"And one beautiful chaos," I said, "is worth a thousand spiritless dreams."
I thrust my hand into Soulless Gustav's sandy body and wrapped my fingers around the hard lump of his heart. His jade eyes popped from his face. I pulled his ruby heart from his chest. His body collapsed into a mound of dirt and stone. I crushed the ruby into glittering shards.
"You didn't think to kill me that easily?" asked a patch of moss.
I didn't, but it did show me what I needed to know. My magic worked even in Soulless Gustav's world. Even more importantly, he could be taken by surprise here. He may have been lord of the realm, but I was not of his realm. I seemed a speck of truth in a universe of phantoms, but his perfect world was now infected with imperfect reality.
"Good day, witch with the unspoken name," said Soulless Gustav from the moss. "If we meet again, I promise to kill you quickly because I like you."
"We shall." I grinned. "And I shall kill you quickly because I have better things to do."
He chuckled as he disappeared.
I stopped to pluck a flower for no other reason than to prove I could disrupt his grand, flawless order. Then I headed back to the others.
W
yst handled his humbting
encounter very poorly. It didn't show in an obvious way. Anyone else would've seen only a brooding, determined champion, but I felt his sullen annoyance with his own powerlessness. He stared straight ahead, eyes squinted into slits, lips pursed tightly, jaw throbbing. All subtle signs. But to my eyes, his moping was impossible to miss. I would've reassured him, but he was right. He was no threat to Soulless Gustav.
A Sorcerer Incarnate need not fear an army of White Knights. I wasn't certain he should even fear me. Soulless Gustav wasn't invulnerable. Nor did his terrible madness have much chance of spreading across the whole world. Magic did rather enjoy the world, and the magic was stronger than Soulless Gustav, Incarnate or not. I assumed even now, fate was preparing for another to confront the sorcerer should I meet the horrible death Ghastly Edna had prophesied. And another should my successor do the same. Destiny was constantly setting designs in motion, most of which would never achieve fruition. Fate was an energetic child with a short attention span.
"What I don't understand," remarked Gwurm, "is that if this is all Soulless Gustav's illusion, then why doesn't he just turn it all to quicksand or a volcano or something like that and kill us right now?"
"Don't give him any ideas," Newt said.
"It isn't as simple as that," I replied. "The sorcery that crafted this is powerful, but such a creation is delicate by its very nature. Right now, it is a flea on the dragon of reality. As long as the flea remains unnoticed, it can slowly sap the dragon's strength. Should its sting be felt, it will be crushed with casual impunity.
"Every bit of sorcery takes that chance. Soulless Gustav is a great sorcerer. He has created a phantom realm most could never comprehend. But his world is a bloated, hungry parasite, and I imagine a tremendous amount of his magic is spent whispering lullabies in the dragon's ear. It would only take one mistake, one phantom too many at the wrong moment, to wake reality and bring all his plans to a crushing end. His power is at its most dangerous here, but it is also at its most vulnerable."
"It can't be both," Newt said.
"Magic thrives on contradiction."
"Like accursed beauty, for example."
His observation didn't bother me as much as I would've expected. I didn't want to be beautiful, but I found I didn't mind as I once had.
Newt balked. "I don't believe it. He didn't act like a man with a lot to fear."
"That's because he doesn't have a lot to fear. We are only a small threat."
Wyst of the West exhaled sharply
"That's comforting to know," said Newt.
"The truth is rarely comforting. If it were, lies would not be as well received as they usually are."
"So why didn't you just do us a favor and lie?"
"Witches often don't tell the whole truth, but we don't lie."
"Maybe you should think about making an exception."
"Very well. Soulless Gustav is an overrated sorcerer. His power pales beside my own. Even now, he is surely trembling in his iron tower, assuming he has one, and contemplating throwing himself on a sword." I stroked Newt's neck with my thumb. "Feel better?"
"Not really."
"Actually, I do," replied Gwurm. "Thanks."
"You're welcome."
The landscape in Soulless Gustav's kingdom slowly began to change. I imagined sorcerers, like witches, were never in complete control of their magic, and everything around us was merely Soulless Gustav's will given substance. Steadily, the world grew more menacing. The grass yellowed. Twisted, sinister grimaces appeared in trees. Heaving, gray clouds darkened the sky. A chill wind swept across the plains. I was gratefol for the dark and the cold, but there was no mistaking Soulless Gustav's hostility reflected in his creation. I thought some time on whether this hostility was founded in genuine fear or mere offense that we'd dared to disturb his empty empire. I didn't decide which.
The road came to a sudden end. It grew dark as dusk. We traveled onward, and the fields thickened. When the grass reached Gwurm's shoulder, I sensed the approach of our third trial. It wasn't found in an omen, but in good judgment. Soulless Gustav wouldn't tolerate our presence for long. We were an affront to his power just by being here.
"I don't like this," said Wyst. "Perhaps we should turn back and find an easier route."
"There is no easier route," I explained. "There is only one way to Soulless Gustav, and that is the way he has given us."
The sharp blades scraped my legs. It was fortunate that trolls possessed thick skin as Gwurm didn't seem to notice. Wyst's horse trotted on with only an annoyed snort. The field reached my shoulder atop Gwurm's back and was soon over my head. If Soulless Gustav was intending to separate us then we would be separated. But as we emerged from the grass, I knew this wasn't his plan. The fields ended without warning into a circle of bare earth.
On the opposite end, figures broke through the grass. I recognized them immediately for they were us. They were akin to the shadows that had tried to steal my reality, but Soulless Gustav wasn't resorting to the same trick as before. Magic dislikes repetition as I was certain any self-respecting sorcerer did.
We stopped, and our doubles halted. They were exactly like us in formation and stance, every nuance of movement. But they were gray, lifeless duplicates, possessed of lusterless color and a certain lack of detail. I noticed it in Wyst's pleasing face and its absence in his copy. The features were still there: the chewy lips, the nibblesome ears, the bitable nose. But they were somehow not the same. It had much to do with his expressions or the lack of them. All the doubles wore blank faces. Even Penelope's copy carried its bristles in a limp, languid manner.
Wyst drew his sword. His duplicate did the same. I climbed from Gwurm's shoulders as my double descended from his double.
"What manner of sorcery is this?" asked Wyst.
I closed my eyes and listened to the magic. It whispered ever so softly, despite Soulless Gustav's desire to suppress it. We were to be given a fighting chance.
"Effigies. They've been sent to be killed by us."
"Now isn't the time for riddles," said Newt.
"No riddles. They're reflections of sorcery, but we are also reflections of them. If they die, we die."
"You're saying we can't kill them?"
"We certainly can, but we'll be taking our own lives."
"This is a cowardly assault." Wyst jumped from his horse. His double reproduced the move exactly, yet somehow lacking the grace. "Come out and face us, sorcerer! Unless you are afraid!"
Despite Wyst's heartfelt valor. Soulless Gustav didn't materialize to meet the challenge.
We stood there for some time. We watched our effigies. They, in turn, watched us.
"Maybe we can get around them," suggested Gwurm, but this idea was quickly put aside. The effigies matched us move for move, as perfect as a mirror. They couldn't be outmaneuvered. As long as we didn't advance, neither did they, and it gave us time to think on the problem.
"What if we just maim them?" asked Newt. "Would we be maimed in return?"
"They will not be maimed. Injuries which we could survive will kill them. They're made to die."
"I've got it," said Gwurm. "If we don't attack them, they won't attack us. Right?"
I shook my head. "They have been sent to be killed."
"How are we supposed to defeat foes made to be defeated?" asked Newt.
"We let them defeat us?" theorized Gwurm.
Again, I shook my head. "They will kill us if they can."
"Can't you do something with your magic?" Newt said. "Like make them just disappear."
"Such sorcery is beyond simple unmaking."
A perceptible tension rose in my companions except for Gwurm, who accepted the situation with his usual pragmatism. The troll could've been a splendid witch. Wyst dealt with his stress as he always did: silent, steely resolve. Newt, however, wasn't about to allow his annoyance to go unspoken.
"Well, this is just unfair."
The observation seemed absurd coming from a demon, yet it was perfectly understandable. To demons, anything they dislike is unfair. He'd made similar remarks about such diverse injustices as not being able to fly and not being allowed to slay any mortal that struck him wrong. Which was every mortal. Like all these perceived inequities, he was mistaken. I wanted to kill Soulless Gustav. He wanted to kill me. There were no rules beyond that, and even if I found myself confronted with an apparently unbeatable trial, I couldn't fault him for that.
Out of frustration and boredom, Newt and Gwurm experimented with our effigies. My familiar did a silly dance just to watch his duplicate do the same. The troll exchanged his feet and hands and walked around upside-down. They taunted the effigies with crossed eyes and stuck out tongues. The faces were the only element not copied, remaining blank. Wyst did nothing. He just stood there, weapon in hand, jaw clenched, and full of heroic determination and a pinch of moping.
Newt snarled. "I don't really walk like that, do I?"
"Not quite," Gwurm replied. "There's an impalpable oddity that the effigy can't quite duplicate."
The duck sat. "So if they kill us, we die, but if we kill them, we die. I'm out of ideas."
"Not every problem can be solved through violence."
He turned up his bill. "Most can. It's the rare dilemma that can't find resolution with a quick disemboweling."
"If you'd care to go and disembowel yourself," suggested Gwurm, "go right ahead. We'll just stand here and watch."
"I don't see you coming up with any solutions."
Gwurm shrugged. "Alas, I'm mostly a problem basher myself."
Newt grinned smugly, finding vindication in Gwurm's admission.
Soulless Gustav may have finally come up with a trial to end my quest. I pondered if death by effigy qualified as horrible. I didn't think so, but there was an undeniable awfolness to the paradox the sorcerer had put us in. We could either sit here forever or go and meet our deaths.
"You're the witch," said Newt. "You're supposed to handle obstacles of this sort. Don't you have any ideas?"
"Perhaps I do. Stay here."
"Where are you going?" asked Newt and Wyst simultaneously.
"To have a talk with myself."
I walked forward, and my effigy moved to meet me in the center of our arena. When she got closer, I observed a flatness in her. She seemed not quite three-dimensional, and when we came within scant feet, I noticed a shiny quality, almost as if she were made of colored glass.
Penelope slipped from my hand. She angled a threatening tilt at her duplicate.
I greeted my effigy with a slight smile. "Hello."
She remained expressionless. "You should never have come. You should have left Fort Stalwart to die." She didn't possess my voice. Hers was a dry monotone, neither high nor deep, and lacking anything in the way of character.
"Is that me or Soulless Gustav speaking?" I asked.
"You. Or rather the you that finds reflection in me."
"If you are me in any fashion, then you know I couldn't do that."
"I am more you than even Soulless Gustav intended." And she smiled though only for a moment.
It made perfect sense. The sorcerer's power was at its most dangerous but also its most vulnerable. My effigy was so well constructed that it carried some of my own magic. Once again, his false world was tainted with reality.
"But I was still made to kill or be killed," she said, "and I must do what I was made for."
"That, I know. But I also expect that as my effigy, you know how I can destroy you."
"I do, but why do you think I would tell you?"
"Because witches don't lie, and I think you are enough my duplicate that you don't either."
She looked into the angry sky in a slight display of independent movement. "But we often don't tell the whole truth."
"Yes, but it is a witch's trade to offer wisdom."
"Even to her enemies?"
"Especially to her enemies."
We shared a chuckle, even if hers was a lifeless, empty chortle.
"The answer is obvious," she said.
"Most answers are."
"You know the solution already."
"I expect I do since you do. But your counsel would be appreciated."
"And if I should trick you?" she asked.
"Then I would perish with pride for what could be a greater accomplishment for any witch than to be tricked by herself?"
She smiled. "But yours is to be a horrible death."
"One doesn't necessarily exclude the other."
We turned away from one another.
"We are made to die, and we die easily." My effigy arched an eyebrow. I assume she did, since I did. "Beneath the right hands."
Penelope returned to my hand. "Thank you."
"No need for that. You have only yourself to thank. And Soulless Gustav for being perhaps too great a sorcerer."
I returned to my companions, and she, to hers.
"Well?" asked Newt.
"I think I told myself what we must do."
"You think? You aren't certain?"
"Certainty is for death and fools."
I'd used the line before, but I felt it appropriate to the situation and worth repeating. Then I explained what we were to do.
Newt was skeptical. "That's it? That's all?"
"Yes."
"But we'll still be killing them."
"No. We'll be destroying them. We may be reflections of one another, but we are true while the effigies are false. Even in this land of glass and shadow, the magic knows the difference."
"And if you're wrong?"
"We die."
A flutter filled my chest. I didn't fear death, but I wasn't ready to face my end quite yet. I glided to Wyst's side. He was so intent on the effigies, he didn't notice. I reached up and put a palm against his dark face. And I kissed him. On the cheek. As close to his lips as I dared.
Newt gasped.
Wyst pulled away from me. Only a step. He placed fingers where I'd kissed him. He didn't smile, but he didn't frown either.