CHAPTER ONE
Rebecca
I know how they murder a witch. I’ve seen the gallows, and the crowds that gather to see a girl put to death.
A witch killed the barber’s son, up at Blackberry Wood. His body drifted to the edge of the water, the little inlet that’s choked with weed. He floated, battered and swollen, and a witch did it, the marshal said. I don’t believe a word of it. But witches exist. They’d call me a witch, if they knew.
##
They came for Amy early. In the misty haze of morning, marshals battered down the door, and dragged my friend from her warm bed and down the stairs by her hair. She didn’t fight; they’d made it clear if she did, her mother would die. With lanterns held high in victory, she was marched in her nightgown, into the street. Not many watched. It was just coming light and only the immediate neighbours came out of their houses, bleary-eyed, shocked, to see what all the commotion was about. Men grabbed Amy by her arms and legs and threw her into the small prison cart. They took her, trembling, down the long road and through the gates into the prison yard.
Amy's terror engulfed me. I was her; she was me. I pressed my hands against my head, trying to stop everything that swamped me. Pain through my mind.
Pain, everywhere...
My head hit stone. Dragged across the floor. I stifled a scream, afraid of bringing my brother Laurence to my chamber door. Choking in Amy’s terror – struggling to breathe. I pleaded; I begged for my sanity. Amy! Let me go. Let go!
Amy slammed her mind shut, and I was suddenly alone. Alone with my own terror, and knowledge of what was to come. And a deep, deep sense of guilt. I’d begged her to close the mental link. I’d left her to suffer on her own.
I knew where the marshals had taken her. The prison of Thixenbrook. They hold a witch there just before they murder––
I cut off the thought. You are a coward, I berated myself. Afraid of dying, scared to help a friend.
Outside, everything sounded normal. The ragman shouted his trade. And Martha was scrubbing the front door steps as she did every morning. Children were laughing, and a horse whinnied, not far away. I stumbled to the window. With a shaky hand I held the curtain to one side and peered out to the street below.
Amy... Guilt overtook my fear and cautiously I reached out to her. Amy? Can you hear me? Are you all right?
Silence. An empty, terrifying moment of realisation. She could be dead. Gone forever. My heart hurt. I was sure it would burst. My head pounded from fear and pain.
The downstairs door banged. Laurence was up early; that was not like him.
“Rebecca. Get down here! Now!”
My mind automatically focused in, then pulled back, aware of the hatred drifting from him. I opened my door and shouted down the stairs. “I’ll be down in a minute. I’m just getting—”
He thudded up the stairs and strolled into my room, where he sat heavily on my chair.
“Sit down, on the bed,” he said. “I’ve got news which I think you’ll be very interested to hear.” He stretched and rested his hands behind his head. Arrogance drifted around him as palpable as his sweat.
Cautiously, I sat on the edge of my mattress. “And what news is that, to bring you here so early? As you can see, I’m not even dressed.” Everything inside screamed: I already know. I don’t need telling.
“Your friend, Amy Darnton, has been arrested for witchcraft.” Lowering his arms he leant forward and his eyes met mine directly. “But then, I guess you already know that, don’t you?”
“Arrested? Is she hurt?” My words stuttered from my mouth. All I could imagine was Amy – possibly already hanged. I tried to control my voice and asked again. “Is she dead? Do you know?”
No! I’m here!
The relief shocked out a sob. And then another. I clung to her contact like a child. My guilt poured forth. Amy - I’m sorry.
And you must leave. Now! Your brother is involved. You must get out of the house and away as quickly as you can. Take the servants’ entrance, so he doesn’t see you.
He’s here with me, Amy. He’s—
You must get away from him. Leave!
“Who are you talking to?” His eyes bored into mine. “Answer me!”
“No-one.”
Rebecca?
I can’t talk now, Ame. Later. Take care.
Laurence guffawed. “No-one. You lying bitch. You forget I’ve grown up with you. It’s her, isn’t it?” He stood.
I rose also. “Don’t come any nearer, Laurence.”
“Or what? What will you do? Kill me, like you killed Mother? You need to remember it’s only my good nature that’s stopped you being discovered long ago.”
I swallowed. Had Laurence been the one to lead the marshals to Amy’s door? “Mother died in childbirth,” I said. “You know that.”
“Killed by your magic growing inside her.”
We’d had this conversation so many times before. I walked to the door and held it open. “This is ridiculous. Now I would like you to leave my room. I need to go to Amy’s mother. She must be distraught.”
He didn’t move, and for a moment I thought he might refuse, then he walked with a slow, arrogant swagger and closed the door behind him.
A short while later the downstairs door banged. I rushed to my window. Laurence appeared on the street, walking at a brisk step, another man by his side. Where was he going? And how exactly was he involved?
Amy’s mind touched mine. Is it safe to talk?
Yes. He’s gone. What do you mean he’s involved? What has he done?
Her thoughts were tumbling, images jumbled up together. Her distress conjured greys and blacks clouding my mind. If she didn’t relax we would be unable to talk; I couldn’t create a mental link on my own.
Please calm down, I said. I can’t understand what you’re saying.
You must go. Now. I heard two of the prison guards talking. Your brother is on his way to the marshals’ office. He’s getting a reward for my capture. And he’s turning you in today!
Laurence? Oh, no. I can’t just leave you. If Laurence is—
Stop it! You are leaving and that is that. A Ranger will come. Go to safety while you can. Do you love me?
Of course I do. You are like a sister to me.
Then go. Her tone of mind softened and I sensed her sadness, and fear which she tried to hide. My mama is crying enough for us all. Please – go, Rebecca. Collect your horse. If you love me, please leave.
I sat down on my bed. I’ll come back for you. Somehow I will get you to safety.
She reached out and touched my mind, placing a soft kiss against my cheek. We didn’t talk about the gallows; it was not necessary. We each knew our friendship would only be broken by the death of one, or both of us. I love you...
Her mental contact vanished. I had no idea if I’d ever see her again.
##
The shopkeepers of Thixenbrook were busy preparing for the day, and I kept my head down, avoiding eye contact. I pulled the hood of my brown cape up over my bonnet to prevent being recognised. Most of these people knew me well and I didn’t want to have to stop. I hurried past the saddlery, and then the chandler, dodging Mrs Murraylan’s broom as she swept the flagstones outside the shop. The street did not feel safe; people had gathered in small groups. It was clear the news of Amy’s capture had already arrived. I could sense the tension – an atmosphere of expectation.
I recognised the town marshal, standing a short distance in front, and slowed my pace. He was talking to a man and a young boy. He pointed down the road, directing them to the steep path to Gallows Hill.
Fear brought my feet to a crawl and then a stop. I clutched my embroidery work bag to my hip. What if he stopped me? What should I say? How incriminating would it look, to have a shawl and chemise, cold ham, cheese and bread, instead of cross stitch threads, and my knotting shuttle? I had no status papers either – Laurence had taken them.
Someone banged into me from the side. I thrust my hands out preparing for the fall. Strong arms stopped my descent and I looked up, my words of annoyance sticking in my throat. Getting into an argument would not be sensible.
“I beg your pardon, ma’am,” the tall man said, his hands against my upper arms. “I really should look where I’m going. Are you hurt?” His eyes were dark and intense. His cheekbones high. His dark brown hair hung loose about his broad shoulders.
Heat raced up my neck and across my cheeks. I looked away, not wanting him to see my reaction. “No harm done, sir,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm. “Now if you will excuse me, I’m late to––”
“Let me apologise properly,” he said lowering his head so our eyes met again. “You look a little shaken. May I offer you some refreshment? There’s an inn not far from here.”
An inn. A drink. With this dark eyed stranger. His eyes questioned, waiting for an answer. His hands, resting upon me, were firm and strong. And totally inappropriate.
My pulse raced at the thought and I took a hasty step back. The gentleman released me, but remained where he stood.
“I cannot, sir,” I said. “I must…” I gestured in the general direction of the street. A shout close by made me jump – someone come to see Amy hanged, no doubt – bringing me firmly back to my task in hand. “I thank you, sir, but I really must be going.”
“Of course you must,” he answered, stepping to one side. He doffed his cocked hat, then swept his arm in front of him, indicating I go first.
My feet at last found their ability to move and I hurried past, resisting the urge to look back. But thankfully the marshal had gone.
My cheeks tingled with heat and I wondered if he’d been aware of my heightened colour. Why had I reacted like that, to blush so readily? Cautiously, I glanced back. He was still there, his fingers resting against his jaw, his greatcoat hanging open, showing buckskin breeches and a black coat. And he was watching me. Still watching me.
Why was he watching me? Had I used magic without realising? Had the stranger seen the tell-tale flicker in eye colour? Or maybe he was just a handsome rake, hoping I would be foolish and go with him? I turned away and tried not to worry about the incident. I’d be gone soon, far away, before the Ranger arrived.
I pulled my hood further over my head and focused my mind. Amy – can you hear me? I’m going to see if I can visit you. They might let me in. If I can––
No! No. We’ll both be killed. Leave, while you’ve still got the chance.
Her terror flowed through me. I came to a halt, beside the bakery. I struggled to keep back my tears. Amy, I can’t just leave like this. I’ll try to get you out. If I can persuade the guard at the door to let me visit you, and then, if I use my craft, I might be able to get the key and––
No. They’re coming for me now – for the preparation. And you cannot change that. I’ll not talk with you again. I love you. Goodbye...
No! Her mind closed. Tears trickled down my cheeks. Amy. Please. Don’t do this.
I understood she was protecting me, but it hurt so much. I tried and tried to contact her. She refused to reply. And I screamed silently inside.
With a terrified heart, I walked with determination. I forced myself to control the tears, wiping a hand across my face. Crossing the street, I dodged the horses and carts, and darted out of view, down the long side alley between the shops. It brought me onto a muddy dirt track, which ran behind shabby, ramshackle houses. They barely had room for one person, but were occupied by many. The stench of animal dung and urine filled the air. I walked as quickly as I could.
Amy’s captivity had brought about a deep anger. I hated the cruel laws. I hated the Rangers! Amy was innocent. They had no right! I ran hard through the next patch of muddy water.
A mental shout ground my thoughts to a halt. Glancing around, I noticed a group of scruffy children, playing on scrubland at the side of the track. A young girl didn’t play; instead, she watched me intently through large, questioning eyes.
Will he kill me too? she projected out.
Her words were clear, her talent strong. Yet she was only six or seven years of age.
Who? I replied, hoping she was not aware. My thoughts were loud and angry. I tried to subdue my thinking.
The Ranger. Will he kill me too?
I sighed. Even at this young age she’d be found guilty. I walked over to her and knelt on one knee, taking her small hands in mine. Does your mama know of your skill, little one?
She nodded, then spoke aloud, her voice tiny and high. “She’s frightened.”
“Are you frightened?”
A nod again and the start of tears. I projected calm and love, trying to keep myself calm at the same time. It’s difficult to explain why, but you mustn’t talk to people this way. You’re not wrong, it’s the laws that are wrong. You mustn’t let yourself use this skill.
“Will they hurt me?”
I blocked my thoughts, trying to shield her from the truth. “Have you any family away from Thixenbrook?”
“My uncle has a farm. Mama works in the fields, sometimes, and I help. I hold the bag for her.”
“Tell her you must leave today. You must make her take you there. Today!”
Tears again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry. But this is very important. Tell your mama you must leave.”
Two grubby arms wrapped around my neck, and I found myself holding her against me.
I told that man I was not on my own. I knew. I knew you were here.
My stomach clenched. I unfastened her arms from their tight grasp and looked at her. “What did he ask you?”
“You’re cross.”
“I’m... I want you to be safe, sweetheart. What was this man wearing? What did he look like?”
“He was taller than you, and had dark hair, this long.” She pointed to her shoulder.
Dark hair. I remembered the man I’d met earlier, how his hair was dark and shoulder length. “What was he wearing?” I described a Ranger, with their black coats, and the belt holding the leather pouch which carried the Ranger stone.
She shook her head. “His coat was black, but he was nice. He gave me some money. I met his dragon.”
“A dragon? Here?”
She frowned. “He had sharp teeth, but the man said he wouldn’t let him bite me.” She pulled from her pocket a quarter-datrem. There was enough money there for several loaves of bread. It was likely her mother knew nothing of this meeting.
Did he know me? I projected, somehow afraid to ask the question out loud.
I don’t think so. The dragon talked to me.
“Talked? In your head?”
She ran around me, arms outstretched. “He could fly – like this.”
I caught her as she passed on the third time round, and knelt back down in the muddy grass, facing her. “I don’t think that was a Ranger, but you mustn’t talk to people about your magic. You mustn’t tell anyone other than your mama, do you understand? And you must tell your mama to go to your uncle’s farm today. You must give her that money. She’ll need it.”
“That’s what that man said. I mustn’t talk about magic.”
“What?” All the hairs on my arms and neck stood up. My breathing quickened. “You must not speak to––”
Sensing I was being watched I shot my head up. Further down the track, I could see a skinny, tired-looking woman.
“Milly!” she shouted. “Come here.”
“I'm coming, Mama.”
Realising who it was, I relaxed. I pulled in a breath. “Go tell your mama, Milly. Tell her you must leave today.”
She flung her arms around my neck, kissed me on the cheek, and was gone, down the dirt track, splashing through the puddles. They spoke, the woman lifting Milly into her arms, and she gave me a nod. I thought of how my father had protected me for a full seventeen years, how he’d taken tremendous risks during that time. I nodded in acknowledgement, an understanding, then turned and walked. Time was against me now. I needed to get to Karndail – the marshals would not know me there – but that meant travelling through Vendil first. It was the most direct route, through a valley unsuitable for any form of carriage. Many a traveller entered Vendil, but not all left. It was said spirits resided there to snatch the unwary: a story told to children, to keep them close to their parents’ side. Marshals. Footpads. And the unearthly. I didn’t want to meet any of them.
I began to run along the path, squelching through the thick mud and out of the town. I needed to collect Damson from the stables at Featherways. He had been my mother’s horse, and Father would not part with him. He was used for light work on Lixon’s farm in exchange for cheap paddock land. Damson should have been in our stable by now, ready for the long winter. Because of the death of my father, he’d been left up at their farm.
I tried to speak with Amy. She didn’t answer. Or couldn’t answer. With increasing fear, I turned towards the river and ran across the fields; it was a shorter route with less chance of meeting anyone else. As I got nearer, I could hear the water running over the mill dam. So much of my childhood had been spent playing here with Amy. Even Laurence had joined in.
I changed direction and half slid, half scrambled down the steep bank. The small overgrown track stretched for miles along the river’s meandering edge and it gave some protection; this section of the river could not be seen easily from above. I ran full speed until shortness of breath slowed me down. I thought back to Milly and hoped she’d left. In my mind I carried the danger surrounding us all; it pushed me on and I ran once more.
Recognising this stretch of the river, I scrambled up the steep slope. It brought me out onto the fields at the back of Featherways and the cold wind hit me as I reached the top of the embankment. Walking briskly past the fields, I headed towards the farm buildings and the stables. I checked the landscape with anticipation. Damson must be in Lixon’s stables now the weather was so bad. Amy and I had ridden down these bridle paths in the summer.
Dear God. Amy! I couldn’t just leave her.
Perhaps once I’d collected Damson, I could go to the prison. I might be able to disarm the guards, knock them out with a blast of energy. It would drain my strength, making it difficult to stay on my feet. But if there was a chance...
I hurried towards the stable building, my mind churning around. I could sense the farmer, somewhere close. Annoyance drifted from his mind at the loss of his time. He should be ploughing the back field, and the pigs had escaped again. Turning the corner, I skidded to a halt. My stomach heaved in shock.
Laurence was in the yard, speaking to the farmer and two marshals. I darted behind the stable block. Spirits! That had been close.
Crouching down, I peered around the corner of the stone building. The marshals could shield their thoughts, all of them could, they’d been trained.
Laurence: Father had taught him. For privacy, he’d said. A few more steps, and I’d have walked straight into him.
“That’s just what I’m saying! If she turns up here, you are to keep her here. Lock her in a cellar or something.” That was Laurence talking.
“How am I supposed to lock a witch in a cellar? And are you sure you’ve got the right girl? She don’t look much like a witch to me. Your father would be––”
“My father was a fool! Trust me. I’ve seen her wield her craft. The sooner she’s hanged, the better.”
“She’ll swing, Mr Vasteer,” said Mr Hantby, a marshal I’d passed and spoken with nearly every day. “The Ranger will be here in an hour or two. If she’s still in the vicinity, he’ll find her. He doesn’t hang around, not this Ranger. Only the witches do that.”
Laughter ricocheted around my head. Laurence. My own brother.
“I’ll take the horse, then,” Laurence said. “Just in case she turns up. She’ll not get far on foot. Good job we brought the other one in last night.”
My fingers grasped the stone wall of the stable block. He’d been one of the men to drag Amy from her house. I closed my eyes against the pain, fighting the even greater pain spiralling in my gut. Everything I knew and loved had been taken from me. My father killed by footpads. Laurence returned from his studies, to claim everything as his own. And Amy – to be murdered on the gallows. Betrayed by my brother. My own brother!
I couldn’t stay now. There was no choice but to run. Amy had been right.
I turned, dropped to the ground, and on my stomach wormed across the soggy field, until I felt safe enough to crawl. It took an eternity, a lifetime of terror. Eventually I was back to the river, and I ran. Straight past the farm, and from Thixenbrook – the town I called home. My feet would take me as far as I could walk. There could be no return.
Nicholas
I glared at Chaze sitting behind his desk. “You’ve allowed that blackguard to take her? You are lucky I don’t string you up by the neck, Chaze! How many hours gone?”
His skin had beaded with sweat. He fumbled with his neckcloth, running his fingers around the edge. Flicking back through his ledger, his eyes focused on the door more than once. Perante took a sideways step and blocked the exit. He deliberately folded his arms.
Chaze swallowed, and thumbed down the page. “Amy Darnton. Amy... Ah, yes, here it is. It was arranged five days ago, my lord. Word was sent to you about the planned capture, but with not hearing back, Mr Cotien thought you weren’t coming. We had no idea you were here, not until—”
I slammed my fist against his desk. “You wait! That is the arrangement. You wait. Until the deadline has passed.” I turned away. “Come, Perante, we are wasting our time here. I’ll take my business elsewhere.”
I thought back to the witch I’d discovered in town, the pretty thing with frightened eyes and a most endearing guilty blush. If she’d not been in such a crowded place, I could have seized her there and then. She couldn’t have got far.
Perante pushed from the door and placed his tricorn on his head. He nodded to Chaze. “Good day, sir,” he said. “It is unlikely we’ll meet again.” Perante’s dark eyes shone with annoyance – and cunning. We understood each other perfectly, knew how to play the game.
A frantic scraping of the chair legs behind me, and I slowed my walk. “Wait! Please, Lord Tarndel. I’m sure we can sort this out. There was, is, another witch. If you’ll wait a few hours, I’m sure the boys will bring her in. It is said she has exceptional talent. It will be worth your while.”
Damn. The witch I’d met was known – very unlikely to be a different one. “Who says she has exceptional talent?”
The ticking of the clock filled seconds of silence. “Her brother.”
I turned. “And no doubt he’s getting a reward? Not the most trustworthy testimony then.”
Chaze left the safety of his desk. “Where are you lodging? Both of you.”
Ah. This was going in the right direction. “We came straight here,” I said. “Not much point paying for bed and board if we get nothing to show for it. I haven’t even seen this girl yet.”
“Let me make amends. Choose your lodgings. We’ll pay for tonight. You’ll see this witch in the morning.”
Perante pointed his hat at Chaze. “We’d better. Good day. Until tomorrow.”
I closed the door behind us with a heavy thud. I knew exactly where we’d board. Isabella had the best rooms in the area – and the most expensive.
##
Perante threw his hat onto the chair and stretched out on the far bed, hands behind his head. “Do you think they’ll bring her in,” he said, “or do we leave early and track her down ourselves? What are your guts saying to you, Tarndel?”
I shrugged off my coat, and wondered if I should tell Perante to take his filthy boots off; Isabella’s lodgings were immaculate. Then again, we weren’t paying, so not my problem.
“They have no idea where she is,” I answered. “Did you see the panic in Chaze’s eyes? I’ll make a visit, first thing. Watch Chaze squirm.” I poured myself a brandy from the decanter on the table and offered one to Perante.
He shook his head. “What wretch did they hang, I wonder, in place of Amy Darnton? One girl looks like any other when a sack’s over her head.”
“Not to a dragon.” I downed my drink and focused on the sky, high above the small town; a nudge of thought sent in the right direction. Find the witch, Kraski. Let me know which way she’s travelling.
I turned back to look at Perante; he was snoring. Not only had we travelled far, but the constant translation in his head from one language to another had to be quite a burden. His dark skin stood out against the white pillow. Best to leave him be. I’d wake him when it was time for dinner.
A vivid shape of a mountain goat filled my thoughts and I locked onto the image. No, we’re not eating anything you’d want, Kraski. Do you know where the girl is?
I will search for her in the morning.
You will search now. All night, if necessary. I need you to find her. And find my wife, while you’re at it! I knew he’d pick up on my annoyance, but I had no doubt he would search. He’d been searching for Sarah for two long years, never wavering in his determination. Perhaps it was time to accept she was dead.
Sympathy trickled into my mind. I will search. But first I will hunt out my own food. Unless, if I find her, I’m allowed to eat your wife.
A chuckle left my lips despite myself, kept low so not to wake Perante. No. You cannot, as you damn well know. But Kraski’s mental touch was already fading.
My thoughts drifted back to the witch in the town. Tomorrow I’d make enquiries; track her down. She shouldn’t be difficult to find, not with such striking green eyes, which was a worry in itself. If I could find her, so could someone else.
Ah, yes, such striking eyes. So full of guilt, and so obviously a witch – to one who knew the signs. I could have lit a fire with the heat of that exquisite blush. Her mouth had been so close I could have kissed her.
Enough of that, Nicholas, I rebuked myself. I shouldn’t even be thinking of such things. I had a job to do and would fulfil it. I would not dwell on what it entailed. This whole damned gruelling business.
_____
© Christine Suzanne Jackson 2017
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