The Black Witch Read online

  When she had slept, it had been dark and dreamless. One moment she was awake, and the next, sleep had swept over her completely.

  She needed to keep moving.

  She thought she was heading in the right direction, but the landscape was confusing. All that she knew from consulting the map again was that she was looking for another large rock formation called: The Sand Tundra. It had been circled heavily on the map. And there had been an arrow pointing from it with unfamiliar handwriting underneath it. Someone had written that “it” could be seen from the top of The Tundra.

  She paused, frowning. What was “it”? What was she looking for?

  She sighed, staring out over the landscape. Despite sleeping, she was tired, and she was hungry. She had searched the bag again—from top to bottom—but had not found a hint of food within it. What could she eat? Pains gnawed at her belly, causing it to rumble violently.

  She would just have to see if she could find anything while she walked. There was nothing around here – not even a shrub where she could pick some berries. Not that she would even be confident doing that. She was unfamiliar with the vegetation and might poison herself.

  The fog was still heavy over her brain. She could not remember anything.

  She scanned the sky, but she could see no shadows. The huge, winged creature was not trawling this area. She let out the breath she hadn’t even known that she had been holding.

  What she had to do, now, was get to this Sand Tundra as quickly as possible.

  She could see it on the horizon, a huge rock formation twisting into the sky. The desert was giving way to craggy rocks, almost the color of blood. It contrasted violently with the pure blue of the sky. Again she was reminded of a painting. Had she seen this somewhere before?

  Suddenly, she could see herself in a winter landscape. Snow beneath her feet. Her breath fogging in the air as she exhaled. A snow-capped mountain ahead of her, and beside her, a man, whom she trusted with her life. She turned her head to look at him. He gazed back at her, his vivid blue eyes staring into her very soul…

  She shook her head, stumbling slightly over a rock. Was the memory real? Did the man who had materialized in her mind exist, or was he a figment of her imagination?

  She was almost there. The rocks loomed over her, but it was going to be hard to climb to the top of it. She assessed it quickly. There was a way, but she would have to be very careful. One wrong step, and she would be careering to the bottom of the rocks.

  She picked her path and headed up, her hands reaching for indentations in the rocks. It was rougher than she had thought it would be. The rocks were slippery and crumbled slightly beneath her hands. A few times she lost her grip. One time she almost fell and had to scramble to save herself.

  Don’t look down, she told herself. For she knew if she did, vertigo would overtake her.

  She was almost to the top, and then she could see herself again, walking through that same winter landscape. A different man was beside her. He reached out toward her, and she could see his dark eyes imploring her…

  She closed her eyes, trying to shake the thought from her. When she opened them again, she could see the land spread out before her in all directions.

  She had made it.

  Panting, she pulled herself up, stumbling forward.

  To the north, she could see the blood-colored rocks spreading as far as the eye could see. She turned around. The endless desert lay behind her, shimmering in the sunlight. Sweat dripped down her back, and she could feel it beading on her forehead.

  She turned back to the north. What was that in the distance? She squinted. Yes. It was a large building, grey in color, made from heavy stone.

  Suddenly, her mind shifted. The fog cleared so quickly she had to reach out a hand to steady herself.

  The Tower. The Storyteller. Everything slotted back into her mind so vividly that she gasped.

  And as soon as it did, a wave of sadness washed over her. Tears filled her eyes.

  She had made it to The Tower, but the two men, who had accompanied her for most of the journey, were no longer by her side.

  She saw them clearly. Skyresh and Everard. She knew what had happened to them, and why. Just as she knew that it was a spell that had fogged her mind, making her forget everything.

  Why had it suddenly cleared? Was it because The Tower stood ahead of her, tantalizing her?

  It had been such a long, perilous journey to get here. Her mind drifted back to when they had all crossed over into the Outlying Zone, fleeing Agnoria. It seemed so long ago.

  Chapter Two

  Crossing the boundary line

  Avalon forced herself to keep running, even though pain threatened to overwhelm her. She had done this before, but she had forgotten. That time, she had been unprepared for the agony of the crossing. This time, she had known, but it still didn’t make a difference.

  Everything hurt. Her head, her stomach, her arms, her legs…there wasn’t one area that didn’t ache relentlessly. They had to stop soon—surely. They had successfully crossed the boundary from Agnoria into the Outlying Zone, and as hard as she strained her ears, she couldn’t hear anyone pursuing them. They had made it through.

  She glanced to her left. Everard was gritting his teeth, forcing himself to keep going, as well. Avalon could see a pale sheen of sweat covering his face. He staggered, tripping over a rock, and almost careered into a tree.

  Skyresh was ahead of them, of course. Leading the way. Avalon watched him nimbly leaping over rocks and shrubs. He seemed to have the energy of a hundred men. How it was possible, considering what they had just been through, was beyond her.

  “Skyresh,” she called, slowing down.

  He barely paused, just glancing over his shoulder at her. When he saw that she had come to a complete stop, he reluctantly stopped also. He turned and walked back to her. Everard had also stopped and was looking at them both, panting heavily.

  “What is it?” Skyresh was panting, but his eyes glittered dangerously.

  “We have to rest,” Avalon gasped, leaning against a tree. “We have been running for at least an hour—since we crossed.”

  Skyresh gazed around, up through the trees, and into the night sky. The moon that had guided their flight was still there, a creamy pale orb in the distance, but otherwise, all was dark in the woods.

  “I thought that we agreed to keep going,” Skyresh said, turning back to Avalon. “They will know that the boundary has been violated. There might be patrols out there.”

  Avalon nodded. “Yes,” she said. She kept leaning against the tree. “But can you hear anything, behind us? I can hear nothing. We are all so very tired. Could we not find shelter for the night and rest?”

  Skyresh stared at her. Then he turned to Everard, who had collapsed onto the ground.

  “What do you think, guardian?” Skyresh’s voice was clipped.

  Everard glared at him. “I think that you should stop calling me that.”

  Skyresh laughed softly. “Have I touched a sore spot?” He stared up at the sky again, thinking. Then he nodded. “Yes, I suppose you have a point. We can’t keep going at this pace. We’ll look for shelter.”

  Avalon breathed a sigh of relief.

  Skyresh turned. “This way.” He started briskly walking.

  Everard got to his feet, turning to Avalon. “Is that man actually human?”

  Avalon grimaced slightly. “Sometimes I wonder,” she muttered. “At least he has conceded that we need to rest, Everard. Let us be grateful for small mercies.”

  Everard scoffed, but he didn’t answer.

  They slowly followed Skyresh through the woods. Avalon could see that he was slowing down for them with the greatest reluctance. Everard was right – Skyresh was relentless. She and Everard had done intense training at the Academy, but even they were no match for the energy and determination of the rebel leader.

  ***

  Avalon was starting to think that she would have to ask again when Skyr
esh suddenly stopped. “Here. This is as good a place as any.”

  Avalon gazed around. She couldn’t see anything but trees in the darkness.

  Skyresh smiled at her confusion, then with a slight incline of his head, indicated that she should follow him. He pointed to a tiny burrow, just beneath a ledge.

  Avalon peered at it doubtfully. “How small do you think we are, Skyresh?”

  He smiled again. Then he walked over to it, pulling twigs aside. Avalon could see a vast, gaping darkness beyond. She gasped.

  “How did you know?” She straightened, staring at him. Where he had pulled the twigs aside, she could now see that it was the opening to quite a large cave. If she had been traversing these woods alone, she wouldn’t have given it a second glance.

  “I have lived most of my life in the woods,” he smiled. “Go on, go inside. You are the one that has been insisting that we stop.”

  She gazed at him levelly. Then she turned to Everard. “Come on.”

  Dampness surrounded them. Avalon blinked, trying to adjust her eyes to the darkness. Then she collapsed onto the ground. She didn’t think that she would be able to get back up in that moment if the whole army of Agnoria was outside the cave entrance.

  Everard collapsed beside her, groaning.

  “I don’t think that I can feel my legs,” he whispered.

  Avalon turned to him. “It has been a hard day, Everard,” she whispered back. “It seems like we have been running ever since we escaped the camp.” She paused. “And then there was the boundary crossing.”

  He nodded, rubbing his shins. “Why does it hurt to cross over?”

  Avalon sighed. “Skyresh,” she called softly to the man who had just walked in. “You probably know more about it than I do. Why do we experience pain, crossing the boundary?”

  Skyresh shrugged. “I don’t know any more than you do,” he replied. “But it has something to do with the spell, which protects this land. Perhaps they tried to make it so that it was impenetrable but couldn’t quite manage it. People can cross, but it is hard to do so.”

  Everard coughed. “Spell? What spell?”

  Skyresh laughed softly. “I keep forgetting that you are ignorant,” he said.

  Everard bristled, staring at him. “I am not ignorant,” he said. “I know as much about the Stromel and their beliefs as you do.”

  Skyresh grinned. “I hardly think that’s likely, guardian,” he said shortly.

  Everard sat up slowly. “You know, I get it,” he said. “I get that you still don’t trust me. Why should you? Even though I worked with you to get Avalon out of that camp, and I am here now, on the run with all of you.”

  Skyresh glanced at him. “Yes, you did all that,” he said. “So, I am willing to give you a chance, but I am yet to be convinced that you truly believe in our cause.” He turned to Avalon, watching her. “You desired Avalon’s freedom. Beyond that, I have no sense of what you truly are.”

  Avalon sighed heavily. “Enough,” she said firmly. “It has been a long day. We need to rest. Bickering like this is not helpful.”

  “True,” said Skyresh, still grinning. “Let us all rest, and we can talk more in the morning. We need to start out at first light. It will take a while to get to where we are going.”

  “Ored told you of a place?” Avalon sat up, staring at him.

  Skyresh nodded. “Yes, but it is a distance away,” he said. “Don’t concern yourself with it now. We will all be able to think clearer in the morning.” He lay down, and within seconds, he was asleep.

  Avalon blinked in the darkness. She settled back down, lying on her side. She could hear Everard breathing heavily. He was still angry. She could feel waves of it emanating from him—through the air in the space between them.

  Well, they would just have to learn to trust each other, but she could sense already it wasn’t going to be quite that simple. Skyresh and Everard were so different. And even she didn’t know how loyal Everard really was to the cause. Skyresh had been right—it had only been her imprisonment that had spurred him to act in the way that he had.

  Because he loved her.

  She knew that Skyresh sensed it. And he was angry about it. She saw it in the spark in his eyes, every time he looked at Everard. She saw it every time he gazed silently at her. He seemed to be questioning her in some way, but he could not put a voice to it, for now, and neither could she.

  Her eyelids started closing. Sleep was overtaking her, and she welcomed it. She welcomed the chance to rest after such a day, but she also welcomed the chance to stop thinking, just for a little while.

  ***

  Everard sat up. He still felt groggy. He could see morning light through the narrow opening of the cave. He glanced around. Avalon was still asleep, her face serene. Skyresh was nowhere to be seen.

  He felt a sharp stab of relief. Perhaps the great rebel leader had decided to head off without them, leaving them to their own devices and going on his merry way. Everard couldn’t stop thinking how good that would be, but he knew there was little chance of it. Skyresh had come to rescue Avalon, having only recently escaped himself. He would be unlikely to desert her now—not after all that they had been through.

  He had probably just awoken and was doing a quick reconnaissance of the area. Skyresh would return, and then they would all have to set off together again.

  He swallowed, trying to quell the resentment that rose in his breast. Yes, he understood that their chances were greater with Skyresh, but he wished—with all his heart—that he and Avalon could simply walk away, leaving the rebel leader behind, that they could travel into the now unknown future together.

  He gazed at Avalon again. She stirred slightly in her sleep but still didn’t wake. She was exhausted—that much was obvious. He noticed the dark circles under her eyes, and the paleness of her skin. He also noticed that she still had her lustrous dark hair—that they hadn’t shaved it off at her camp. Not like they had shaved Skyresh Sakr’s hair.

  But what had they done to her? Sometimes, scars weren’t visible. He knew that from experience.

  There was movement at the cave entrance. Everard’s hand went automatically to his sword, but it was only Skyresh. The rebel leader strolled in as if he had just been out to the market. He carried a variety of fruit in his hands.

  “Breakfast,” Skyresh said, putting the food down. He turned to look at Avalon. Then, he slowly reached out toward her and trailed a hand down her face. Everard’s throat tightened. There was too much intimacy in the gesture for his liking.

  Avalon sat up with a jolt. “What is it?”

  “Time to get up,” said Skyresh, his blue eyes shining in the darkness. “I’ve brought some food, then we should head straight off.”

  Avalon yawned. She glanced at the fruit, picking up a piece and studying it carefully. “I’ve never seen these before,” she said, sniffing it. “Are you sure they are alright to eat?”

  “Quite sure,” said Skyresh. “I’ve lived in the wilderness, as I said. The vegetation here isn’t that different from the Far North.”

  “I trust you,” smiled Avalon, taking a bite. Her face grimaced. “Not the sweetest fruit in the world.”

  Skyresh laughed. “No, but it will fill your belly, and that’s all that we want.” He turned to Everard. “Eat, guardian.”

  Everard glowered. He didn’t move.

  Avalon sighed. “Skyresh, you must stop calling him that,” she said, staring at the rebel leader. “That world is behind us now. Everard has proved himself.”

  “Once a Jarle, always a Jarle,” said Skyresh quickly.

  Avalon’s face darkened. “And is that how you think of me, as well? I was brought up as a Jarle, and yet here I am. Ored was a Jarle, and he is a fierce fighter for the rebellion. You have to let it go, Skyresh.”

  Skyresh picked up a piece of fruit, biting into it. “You are different. I always sensed there was more to you than your heritage. Ored chose his course out of outrage. Why are you here, Everard
?”

  Avalon noted that at least Skyresh had stopped calling him guardian. That was a start.

  “I am here for Avalon,” Everard replied. “Because I couldn’t let her die. Wherever she goes, I go. Beyond that, it’s all the same to me.”

  Skyresh nodded. “As I thought. You have no interest in the rebellion.”

  Everard’s dark eyes flashed. “Why should I? It will lead nowhere. You think that you are making gains, but every rebellion is thwarted by the Jarle eventually. And what about the people you claim to care so much about? Every time you and your rebels make trouble, the people suffer for it.”

  Skyresh stared at him. “The people want to be liberated, and they are prepared to put up with the consequences of that fight.”

  “Really?” said Everard, staring at him disdainfully. “Have you ever asked them? Yes, some might. But not all. Most just want to get on with their lives and be left in peace. Tell me, have you thought of what will happen to the people of Ored’s village, who we saw being dragged out of their homes? They will pay for what we have done.”

  Skyresh’s jaw was set stubbornly. “The Stromel know that we all have to make sacrifices for the cause.”

  Everard stood up. “So, your life is worth more than theirs?” he scoffed. “You think highly of yourself, Gwalen.” His voice tripped on the name. Skyresh was called Gwalen by the people, which meant mighty one. “You are now in exile. You cannot do anything about what is happening in Agnoria. The Jarle will not show mercy to the people. The whole realm will be in turmoil, after your escape, and now Avalon’s.”

  Skyresh stared at him. “So, what you are saying is that we should all accept that the Jarle rule us, and know our place? Even though they enslave us and have re-written history for their own ends? Even though they routinely kill us, if we do not please them?” He spat a seed on the ground. “Spoken like one who has always known privilege.”

  Everard’s eyes glittered. He knew that he had not always been privileged. He had been born a Stromel and taken an opportunity to lift himself out of poverty, but he wasn’t about to tell this man that. Let him think what he wanted. He wasn’t looking for his good opinion.