The Witch of Glenaster (6 page)

“That way,” he said.

“So how far is it to
Ampar
from here?” I asked, as Thomas slowed his pace a little
to let us catch up. We were a good mile into the Plateau, and my initial
enthusiasm on seeing it for the first time had started to abate. The vast, flat
land had a curious effect on the mind, and I imagined that to walk across it
alone would drive a person mad. Thomas seemed quite unperturbed, stopping only
to get his bearings now and again – an impossible task, it seemed to me, in
such a stark and featureless landscape – or to check on my brother, as he
followed us, always a good ten paces or so behind. He even offered to carry
him, but Magnus would have none of it, insisting on his own two feet for
support.

“About sixty leagues or so,”
said Thomas, in answer to my question, twirling a small pendant on a necklace
about his finger. “Give or take. A good ten days’ walking, I’d say; though I
make allowance for my slower companions…” And he doffed his hat to us, and
smiled his crooked smile. And then he pointed towards a brush of woodland, over
to our left. “There,” he said. “That would be a good spot for lunch.”

We ate in near silence, my
brother sulking and refusing to talk, I watching the swordsman, as he munched
the biggest apple I had ever seen, and gazed out across the Plateau. I realized
he was the first fighting man I had encountered since the day seven years
earlier, when the young guardsman had appeared at our door, fleeing for his
life from the Witch of
Glenaster
.

This man was quite different:
older to start with, and more battered, but also more determined. I wondered if
he had seen any wars, and reckoned there was a good chance that he had. He
seemed cheerful withal, and good company, and I felt no need to mistrust him.
Yet I couldn’t help but feel there was something about him that didn’t quite
fit, as if there was a part of him that was missing. And always he was
fingering the necklace, the one with the pendant on it. I longed to know what
it was, but never managed to come close enough to see, and thought it rude to
ask.

After lunch, we made a good few
miles more across the Plateau, before the humid air, and our own weariness,
overcame us. That night we slept in a small hollow, hidden behind some
scrubland, and I heard my brother during the night, but let him cry his fill,
for I hardly had the energy to comfort myself, and thought it best not to make
things worse by fussing over him. Thomas had a spare blanket in his pack, and
we were glad of it, for the night was chill.

“Some tragedy befell you,” he
said, after Magnus had gone to sleep. He was working away at his sword with a
whetstone, drawing it carefully along the blade, the soft scrape as it
sharpened the metal somehow reassuring in that quiet place, as if the sword
itself was breathing. He spoke quietly, and simply, so that it moved me, for I
knew from the way he spoke that he had experienced tragedy also. “Don’t worry,
I won’t pry. But it makes my heart heavy to see two such as yourselves
wandering the roads unaccompanied.” And he was quiet for a moment, then resumed
sharpening his sword, and I noticed the pendant hanging loosely from his neck.

“What is it?” I asked, drawing
a little closer, and he gave me a look that seemed dark for a moment. But his
face soon relaxed, and he turned back to his work.

“I lost someone too,” he said
softly, and then fell quiet. And I asked him no more about it.

I was about to return to my
sleep, when I heard something like a calling, or a howl, far off in the
distance of the Plateau. I thought nothing of it, reckoning it only an animal
of some kind, but I noticed Thomas grow alert and uneasy, and back silently into
the hollow, crouching low next to me. He smelt of damp tobacco and old leaves.

“Is it an animal?” I asked, and
he signalled me to remain quiet. Some moments passed, and the night was still.
Then he spoke.

“It could have been an animal –
one of the dogs or wild cats that stalk the Plateau at night – but my heart
tells me it was not. There are – things that wander the Plateau after dark.
Things you would not want to meet…”

“Do any of them work for the
Witch?” I asked, and again he did not answer for a while. But when he did, he
seemed to relax, as if the greatest danger was passed.

“These days, Esther Lanark,” he
said, lying down to sleep, “all evil things work for the Witch…” And within
minutes he was snoring, loudly and cheerfully.

The next day broke crisp and
dew-heavy, a thick mist low over the flat, punctured only rarely by the odd
tree. The grass was springy and wet underfoot, and we were glad when the sun
slid through the clouds about mid-morning, and the sky started to clear. After
this we made good headway, though I fell over once, and my brother at least
twice more. Slowly we got to know our companion. His manner was reserved, but
friendly in its way, and he could be strange, and even severe, but his mood
would also lighten suddenly, and he would crack a joke, or point out a bird or
a tree that had caught his eye. And so for the first two days, up there on the
Plateau, we learnt to trust one another, and by the second day I suppose we
were halfway to being friends. The effort and grief of recent days, and of all
our travelling, had taken their toll, and we were sore in need of such
friendship. But, for all our troubles, I was determined to press on, at least
until we reached
Ampar
; then we could rest properly,
and I could think, and plan, and decide how I was going to kill the Witch.

I knew that in
Ampar
there was a great library – the Imperial Compendium –
which contained all of the world’s knowledge, and was so large it was like a
small city unto itself. It was guarded by the Magi-Librarians, who, it was
said, were numberless and fearsome; they patrolled the corridors by night and
by day, their faces hidden by low hoods, and their hands set always around the
hilts of their daggers. And at the centre of the Compendium, where no man had
ever been, was the most secret of all its accumulated knowledge – books they
said were so dangerous they shouldn’t even be opened, books that could kill…
And it was in to that place that I wanted to go, for the most dangerous of all
these books – the one men called the
Veil
– was rumoured to rest deep
within it, held fast by thick straps of leather, and bound by spells in
languages long forgotten. It had been written during the reign of Michael the
Just, when many still worshipped the old gods, and was almost as old as the
Witch herself; and it was said to contain all the lore and wisdom needed to
defeat her, if only one were brave or stupid enough to try and find it.

It was on the third day after
we left Calm that I became truly frightened.

We had spent a second night on
the Plateau, bedding down in a small copse, which gave some shelter from the
bitter wind coming in from the east. I had slept quite soundly, though not long
after midnight I woke to find Thomas stood a little way from the fire, his head
to one side, listening, and had thought I heard a cry, like the one the night
before, only somewhat nearer, but could not be sure if it wasn’t just a dream.
“Go back to sleep,” Thomas had said, and I was grateful to do so. But the next
morning, he seemed keen to get off the Plateau as fast as possible: we were
running out of food, he said, and there was little to be had up here. I
wondered, though, if this was the only reason.

He thought that at a good pace
we could be down into the valleys of the
Moonland
by
the following evening; but I was mindful of my brother, and of his tired legs
not being as fast as my own, let alone Thomas’s.

I was trying to cheer myself
with pleasanter thoughts when, later in the day, the mist returned, and, as the
sky started to grow dark, I saw the swordsman suddenly stop, a good few strides
ahead, his back to us, completely still. I waited for a moment before asking
what it was. He turned around, very slowly, and looked, it seemed, through me
rather than at me.

“We are being followed,” he
said, his voice hoarse; and the words floated off into the mist. My brother, on
hearing them, ran to catch us up, and gripped my hand. Thomas swayed a little,
as if unsure what to do next, but then he spied a clump of birch about fifty
yards off, and motioned towards it. We followed him, gingerly placing our feet,
as if something might leap out of the gathering dusk and surprise us at any
moment.

It was a good spot in which to
stop for a while. The trees were raised off the ground by a large hillock, and
on one side we were shielded almost completely by them; on the other, we had a
wide view back the way we had come, and even in the mist and greying light we
could see the Plateau below us, spread out like an empty sheet. The effect made
us feel like we were above the clouds, so dense was the white fog beneath; and
I remembered reading Magnus the story of Jack and the Beanstalk, a lifetime
ago, and tears swept uninvited into my eyes.

Thomas crouched down low, and urged
us to follow him as high up the hill as we could go; and we sat expectantly,
with our backs to the trees, watching and waiting. When he spoke, it was in the
same hoarse voice he had used earlier, that was soft but seemed to carry:

“Something’s been following us
since we climbed to the Plateau,” he said. “Something – or some things. I don’t
know what it is – it doesn’t move fast – but it knows the ways of the wild, and
how to stalk its prey. I thought I heard something last night, when you awoke,
but I couldn’t be sure then. Now I am - I heard its call. It was faint and far
off, but it wasn’t an animal. I know nothing was following me when I was still
in the valley. It may be it has been hunting you…”

At this my brother started to
cry, and I scolded Thomas with my eyes for frightening him, and he looked down
in apology. Then I told him:

“There
has
been
something following us. For several days now, since soon after we entered Calm.
At first I tried to ignore it, but I think Magnus felt it, too, and when we
heard that –
sound
– in the night, I wondered if it had come back. Now I
know it has, I fear I may have made a mistake in coming this way…”

“Coming which way? There’s no
safer way to
Ampar
. And besides, it might have been
me
who was stalking you, did you think of that…?” And he grinned slightly,
showing his thin teeth.

“If I’d thought it was you, we
would never have accompanied you here like this…” I said, proudly.

“You had little idea of who or
what I was, Esther Lanark,” he said, and now it was he who was scolding me, for
my naivety, and willingness to put my trust in him. But how could I not? He was
an adult, and I still a child; and with my own mother and father gone, and my
brother to look after, I needed someone to follow, to trust. I could see that
he understood this, for he put a friendly hand on my shoulder, and his arm
around my brother.

“Your instinct told you to
trust me, and you chose well. I am no killer, nor a cutpurse or assassin. If I
pledge to protect people, then that is what I do, to the best of my ability.
But I tell you that we are in danger here, and the sooner we get off the
Plateau and into the
Moonland
, where we can find
shelter, the better. I do not think this mist is entirely natural; I think
there is
spellcraft
at work, and, though I am a good
enough swordsman in my own way, I fear that will not be enough to defeat what
may be out there…”
  -
and here he lifted his head
towards the land we had crossed – “…and I would rather not have to face it,
until I am ready.” And he rested his chin on his hand, and was quiet for a long
time.

In the end we resolved to spend
the night there amongst the trees, though Thomas feared it would cost us more
journeying time the next day, and insisted we rise early the following morning.
This we did, after a few hours of sleep that passed with little incident,
except for my brother’s snoring. Thomas hardly slept at all, and kept the watch
most of the night.

We had a spare breakfast of
stale biscuits, and water from the canteen, and strode off northward, Magnus
riding on Thomas’s back when he grew tired. And the Plateau began steadily to
narrow, so that we could start to see its edges, and the villages and
combes
beyond them. And we walked eagerly and without fear,
though our legs ached and our minds were always on the sun, galloping across
the heavens, and on what might happen when it left us to the darkness, and the
nameless things that hunted us.

Still we pressed on, so that we
had enough time to take a good rest in the early afternoon, and Thomas was
pleased with our progress, laughing and wiping his forehead with a
handkerchief.

“I wish we had some lemonade,”
he said, as we shared what water we had left. “When we reach
Ampar
I will buy you some – a glass each, no, three
glasses! – the tallest they have, filled to the brim with the finest lemonade,
and great fistfuls of ice, enough to slake the thirst of a charging bull!” And
he laughed again, but his eyes were sad.

And so, by the day’s end, we
were less than three miles from the end of the Plateau, and the ground was
already sloping down at a steep angle.

It was then that we saw it.

I remembered the description
that the guardsman who had come to our house all those years ago had given of
the Watchers, those evil men who serve the Witch, and the Third Eye that is
tattooed upon their foreheads. How his face had seemed to shrink and pale in
the firelight, and his eyes grow dark as he recalled the sight. Now, as the
trees closed in, and the ground slid away beneath our feet, a great wall of
rain came on suddenly from the south, and we had to run for cover. Clutched
beneath a wide-leaved beech tree, we sheltered for a while as the sun bled its
last, and the night took hold. And behind us, high on the Plateau, in a spot
where we had been not two hours before, stood three figures, and the lightning
that fell with the rain lit them up like the day, and even though they were a
good distance away, I could see their faces; and they were fearful, and grim to
look upon. I turned to Thomas, who simply nodded.

“I saw them too. It is the
Watchers, the Men Who Have No Souls.” He held us both, me and my brother, close
to him, and I think he was just as afraid as us in that moment. “I thought as
much. They have been tracking you, Esther Lanark, it seems these past few days.
And now they track me as well.”

My brother held fast to
Thomas’s coat, and asked:

“But why do they not attack us?
Why do they hold back like that?” And Thomas patted the boy on the back, and
smiled despite our peril.

“They do not attack us because
they cannot see us. It is something not all know about the Watchers, for it
suits them to be as feared as possible; but they have no eyes…”

I blinked water from my own,
and stammered:

“But – how can they see? What
about the Third Eye…?”

“The Third Eye is the one the
Witch sees through,” said Thomas. “It is laid on their foreheads with spike and
ink, and spells to hold it fast, and can never be removed. But their real eyes,
their human eyes, they lost the use of those many years ago – the Witch removed
them, lest they grew too powerful and were tempted to resist her. That is why
they move so slowly, but it is not that alone: they are unsure what it is they
seek, as is the Witch. I presume they think you some threat, you and your
brother, or else they would not have followed you so long. But why, or how, I
do not know.”

“But,” Magnus persisted, “if
the Witch can see out of the Third Eye, then why does she not give them
direction…?”

Thomas Taper sighed, and slowly
drew his sword, though in a helpless manner, as if he thought it little use.

“The Third Eye is not like a
human eye, Magnus Lanark: it sees into men’s souls, and hearts, and finds their
greatest fear, thus to exploit it; and many armies have been scattered in
disarray by its power, but that is itself limited, and it does not see as we
do. Its strength is particularly diminished by day…” And suddenly he held his
sword up, and reached with a quick movement into the bushes in front of him,
and pulled a struggling figure from out of them. My brother and I gasped, for
we thought at first it was one of the Watchers, and he was about to slice them
open; but we saw instead it was a small, rotund man, with a smooth, bald head,
and ill-fitting clothing. He wriggled like a worm on a hook.

“Brothers!
Ow
!
Let me go! Let me go!! I am a loyal subject of His Majesty, you have no right
to detain me like this. Let me go!
Ow
!!”

Thomas held him hard round the collar,
and after a while the little man stopped trying to escape, and hung, exhausted,
his feet just off the ground, staring listlessly at his captor. His eyes then
rolled to either side, and he caught sight of us, and smiled weakly.

“What are you doing, hiding in
the bushes,
sirrah
?” Thomas demanded, and, though he
seemed cool, I caught the tremor in his voice.

“I might ask the same of you,
sir! What business has a man and two children wandering the Plateau, especially
with all the -
people
about…”

Thomas shook him.

“What people? You know of
them?!”

The other man shook his head so
violently I thought it would come off.

“No, no! God preserve us! I am
a loyal subject of His Maj…”

“Yes, yes, you said all that.”

The little man gave his weak
smile.

“Well, I am an equerry to the
Imperial Household, sir, on secondment to the Provincial Council here in the
Valleys of the Moon, and I have been charged with, err,
improving relations
between His Majesty the Emperor and His loyal subjects in this province…” He
paused, and licked his lips, then added sadly: “But, more recently, I have had
responsibility for security in Lyme and
Broadfarrow
,
since the Festival of the Moon falls tomorrow night, and there have been -
people
about.” He looked hopefully at Thomas, who mulled his story for a moment,
before setting him down gently.

“So they made you a policeman?”
he said to the small man, his tone only slightly mocking. “Aren’t there
militias for that kind of thing?”

The little man brushed himself
off.

“I have been put in
charge
of the local militia. They instructed - I mean, I
requested
– that I
should come up here and make sure this area was free of, err –
undesirables
.”
And he smiled once more.

“Sounds like they’ve got you
under their thumb,” Thomas muttered quietly. The other man pretended not to
hear. “Well, it looks like you’ve found some ‘undesirables’: a traveller, and
two young children, hungry and weary from many miles’ walking, and needing
shelter for the night. If you can lead us off the Plateau, and find us somewhere
to rest, and perhaps some food to eat, we would be most grateful, Mister…?”

“
Bryant
, sir. Cornelius
Bryant. Shelter, you say? Food? Hmm. Could be tricky…”

Thomas shifted impatiently.

“I have but a little money,
it’s true, and unfortunately I left my finest silks at home…” And he smiled.
“But I can recompense you for your trouble when I reach my destination. I have
some friends at Court who would vouch for me: Will Bowyer, of the Imperial
Bodyguard; and also Francis Mead, of the Procurator’s office. That name alone
should mean something to you.”

Cornelius Bryant worked at his
chin with a small, stubby hand.

“Hmm… I believe I
am
familiar
with the name Francis Mead, certainly. He is highly regarded, I believe, and
from your tone I believe you are sincere when you say that you know him. But
that still does not explain how you came here. And you
are
armed…”

Thomas seemed lost in thought
for a moment, before replying:

“If you must know, I am on
Court business, and for now my business takes me to the Capital. I have served
in the military, and they taught me how to use a sword. I came across these
children in Calm, not five days ago, and volunteered to accompany them as far
as
Ampar
. As you say, the roads are often unfriendly
places these days…”

“That is true, brother, that is
true. You have made good progress to get across the Plateau in only four days –
but I see you are a man well used to travelling the wild places, and no doubt
know the shortest way…” Cornelius looked at us for a moment, considering,
before finally, with a smile, he said: “Well, what can I say? You are all of
you welcome to the
Moonland
, though you may not find
it as welcoming as Calm. The terrain is rougher here, and the people somewhat…
coarser
.
I will find you some food and shelter, though if I were you, I would not linger
here too long – the Festival of the Moon is a…
strange
time to be
around. They barely tolerate me, and I have been here over a year. But still,
follow me, follow me…”

When we emerged from our
shelter beneath the trees, the last of the rain was dripping lazily from the
branches, and the ground was sodden and slippery. We trod carefully behind the
small man, as he picked his way down the hill, and I only glanced back once,
towards the place where we had seen the Watchers; but there was nothing there,
only the dark, and the silence.