Pyre - A Novelette Featuring the Avebury Witches

Chapter 4

Molls was tiring; it took only a tiny tug at the rein and the mare slowed down with a slobbery snort.

"Heavens, woman, we need to speed up, not stop." Bill's hot breath hit the back of Rosy's neck as if their pursuers were already upon them.

A hound barked at the edge of the clearing. Not her imagination then. Reality. The hunters HAD arrived. All was decided.

"We can't escape your way, so we must try my way. Are you sure you want to do this? If you do, you can't ever go back. They'll—you'll burn too."

Rosy sensed his movement, for a moment thought he was ready to jump off and to leave her. A little voice inside her head screamed "no" but Rosy scolded herself for being selfish. Still, it wouldn't be easy to let him go, even less so as she had suffered through this pain once before.

"Do whatever you think is necessary, but do it quickly."

Silly little heart; now it fluttered with joy when she should feel fear. But no, she must not fret anymore. Fear was a negative emotion, it would not get her aloft. The rough call of a second dog sounded behind them as Rosy pushed her dark thoughts aside, shed her worries until most of them had gone and what was left would not weigh her down. Ahead, the path to safety shone clear.

Wrong. Not safety. Just to Avebury. There, they would still have to face the Keepers who used neither hounds nor pyres and didn't need either of those things. . .

As if there was a choice.

"Hold on tight," Rosy commanded before she did the opposite. As Bill's arms crossed over her waist, she dropped the bridle, flattened her palms, opened herself to the woods and welcomed their blessing. Her fingers closed on the gift of the green and she drew on the warmth hidden deep down inside her. From there she called up a spark, made it rise, made it grow, let it flow through her veins — until she was one with nature.

And there was no limits to what nature could do.

"Whoa!" shouted Bill from behind her, as the horse and riders gently rose from the ground, floated towards tree tops and beyond, into the golden glow of a late summer afternoon.

"I told you to hold on!"

Molls flailed her legs and sent a shrill whinny to a clearing now covered with the bulky shapes of the bloodhounds; though whether it was in protest or triumph, Rosy didn't know. Surely, the mare should be used to being airborne; they had practised often enough.

Far below them, down on the ground, frustrated barks and howling accompanied their ascent. Rosy couldn't help giggling despite the iron ring of Bill's arm that squeezed the air from her body.

"Come on, fusspot." Rosy slapped the reins on the mare's neck who deigned to remember she belonged to a magical tribe, gathered her legs under her solid belly, and cantered through the air, finally safe from the hunt.

All throughout the ride, Bill never said say a word, he just breathed heavily into Rosy's ear. Their journey did not last long, not even six miles by road lay between the market town, Marlborough and the hallowed stone circle the Druids left behind at the village of Avebury. Still, the flight took all Rosy had to give. She felt the spark inside her dwindling, the warmth cooling as her magic was spent. With the last embers of power, she sent Molls back down to the ground, touching down all four of her hooves on a pasture well away from the stone circle. The Keepers didn't approve of rogue magic being cast so close to the ancient monument. It could taint its spell, foil their plans. She was in dire straits already, she didn't need to further rouse their ire.