The Green Witch

Chapter Twenty One

     The wind blew Tala's hair across her face. With her hands manacled behind her back there was nothing she could do about it. It was enough, in the darkness, to obscure her view of the road and she stumbled occasionally as her feet found the steep sides of ruts left by cart wheels. Whenever it happened she felt the firm hands of Cunningham on her shoulders keeping her from falling until she was walking steadily again.

     The Knights walked in single file along the narrow road with the young witch near the head of the procession. Only the Knight Captain, holding a glass lantern, was ahead of her, the set of his body radiating satisfaction as he led the way back to town. The air was full of the sound of the wind in the trees, and when she heard the gurgling of water she knew they were passing Harringly Brook; a narrow stream that followed the road for a while before passing under it through a narrow culvert. It meant they'd covered about half the distance already. Another hour or so and she would be locked up in a prison cell.

     She became aware of the Crone again, her astral form hovering somewhere nearby. <Well, well, well,> she mocked. <You seem to have gotten yourself into quite a pickle.> Tala didn't reply.

     <Don't worry, dearie,> the Crone added. <I have plans for that pretty body of yours. I won't let anything happen to it.>

     <Go to hell,> Tala told her.

     <Oh undoubtedly. Undoubtedly, but not for a while yet, I think. Prepare to be rescued, my pretty.>

     <I don't want to be rescued. Better to die in the stocks than be used by you to do evil.>

     <You'll be rescued whether you want it or not. I'm sending some of my friends for you. See you soon, sweetie.>

     Tala tossed her head to try to throw her hair away from across her face but the wind just blew it back again. It was lower this time, though. Mostly across her mouth rather than across her eyes. She spat it out as she peered through the few tangled strands that still tried to obscure her vision. Would it be wolves? she wondered as she stared into the trees growing beside the road. The Knights were all armed, though. They would easily be able to defend themselves, no matter how viciously the Crone compelled them to attack. Maybe she'd somehow found a way to gather all the wolves living within a hundred miles into a single huge pack... She dismissed the idea instantly. Such a thing would surely be beyond her power unless she was stronger than the most powerful witch in tale and fable.

     The first warning they had was a rustling in the undergrowth ahead of them. Tala saw something flowing across the road like a spillage of thick, grey liquid, barely visible in the darkness. The same sound came from behind them, cutting off both their advance and their retreat. As the Knights stopped, staring at it in concern, Tala began to hear a thousand angry animal voices coming from it. <Hungry. Must feed. Food on two legs. Must feed.>

     <Not the girl,> the Crone warned them. <Do not harm the girl.>

     <Food is food,> the animal voices replied. <Must feed.>

     <Not the girl,> the Crone insisted. <Harm the girl and you will feel my wrath.>

     Tala heard a whimper of pain from whatever was lying in wait ahead of them and knew the Crone was using her Eyes that Bite. <Yes, yes,> the animals agreed reluctantly. <Not the female.>

     <Which one's the female?> another asked.

     <The one with her forelimbs behind her back,> the Crone told it. <The one with the long hair on her head. Do you understand?>