Sorceress

Chapter 14

I drifted in and out of sleep.  The coach was dark, its heavy curtains keeping the daylight at bay.  I don’t think I would have been able to take the sun’s warmth and joy beaming in on me when my heart and body felt so heavy.  Every time I awoke, an overwhelming sadness would descend over me and combined with the aches and pains in my body, all I wanted to do was drift back into the darkness and silence of sleep.  I don’t know how long I travelled in that coach.  It could have been hours, days or weeks, I did not care.  I was too consumed in myself to take any interest.  The carriage only stopped a few times, allowing me to stretch my legs and make water in the bushes while a silent coach man kept guard.  Hard bread, cheese, some fruit and water had been put in the carriage for me, but other than the water, I could not bring myself to eat.  I told myself I did not deserve to eat, I did not want to eat.  If I were lucky, this coach would go on forever and I would simply waste away in the back and finally one day they would find my emaciated body clinging to the velvet seats.  I prayed to Our Mother for such a fitting end.

It seemed that She had different plans for me.

I cannot say when the coach stopped, how many days it had been or where we were.  My time was measured only through the abuse I heaped on myself and by the many deaths I imagined I deserved and longed for.  I felt the coach come to a halt, and I raised myself from the bench where I had been laying, pulling my cloak up to cover my face as I had been instructed.  The doors opened and I carefully stepped out.  The night was cool and a thick mist hid the world from view.  A full moon shone brightly overhead, the light reflecting eerily over the mist. 

I stepped into the fog as my bladder begged to be relieved.  It immediately surrounded me, blocking out the sounds of the horses as they shifted in their harness.  I walked deeper into the fog, my steps silenced by the moss underneath my feet.  Turning I saw I could not see the torches the coachman lit at night so I quickly squatted and relieved my aching bladder.  Seconds later, I retraced my steps.  The thickness of the fog prevented me from seeing more than what was directly in front of my face.  It crowded me, forced itself on me, in my lungs, my hair, the wetness clinging to my skin.  I could hear nothing, not my footsteps nor the familiar sounds of the coach.  I stopped walking.  Surely I should have reached the coach by now.  I had taken no more than ten steps away from the coach.  How many could I have taken after relieving myself?  I counted madly in my head.  Definitely more than ten.  I turned back around and retraced my steps.  I must have passed right by the coach, the fog hiding it from view.  I glued my eyes to the ground, searching for the packed earth that would indicate that I was on the road.  I counted thirty steps before I stopped.  Panic rose up from my stomach, and I forced it down.  The coachman would notice that I had not returned by now.  He would be looking for me.  I called to him through the fog, but my voice could not permeate its thickness.  I called again and again, but no answer came forth.  I took deep breaths, trying to still my racing heart, but the fog threatened to choke me, extending its long tendrils around my throat.  I turned around again, counting out thirty steps this time to take me back to where I had just been.  I took only fifteen before I saw the outline of the coach through the fog.  Sighing in relief I hurried towards it.

As I neared, the coach was raised high into the night sky.  I realized my mistake too late.  There was no coach, rather huge rocks stood where I had imagined the coach to be.  The fog had hidden its immensity from me, blurring the edges, my imagination doing the rest.  I placed my hands on the cold rock, not wanting to believe my eyes.  A loud, haunting wail came from the darkness behind me.  Again the panic rose in my throat, and this time I could not control it.  It burst out of me, prompting me to break into a run, dragging my hand along the rock.  The road had to be here.  My cloak, now wet, tangled around my ankles, throwing me to the ground.  Rocks bit into the soft flesh of my palms.  I could hear the sound of my dress ripping as I struggled to my feet.  I screamed for the coachman, but all I heard was my voice screaming back at me, echoing off the rock walls around me.  I ran again, blindly until I could not run anymore.  My chest burned with the effort and I crumpled to the ground sobbing.  The wail burst through the fog again, closer this time, and I curled into a tight ball, covering my head.  I could hear twigs cracking under foot.  Something big was coming close.  With all the courage I had left, I raised my head.  Calmness settled over me.  I would not meet this foe hiding like a child.  Slowly I unfurled, getting shakily to my feet.  The steps moved closer, slowly.  Through the mist huge spears moved.  They were held straight up, and were made of white bone.  Was this death?  Had the Mother decided to take me up on my offers?  In face of such a fate, I realized I did not want to die.  I would fight for this life, I would survive.  My courage rallied around me, breathing new life into my limbs.  I no longer felt scared, or tired.  I felt strong, alive.  I flung my hood back, letting the full moonlight wash over me.  I was ready to face anything.  The mist thinned, and out of it walked not death, but a huge stag, his white antlers towering on top of his head.  He moved slowly, proudly until he stood in front of me.  Our eyes met, his large deep brown eyes stared into mine and then, extending one leg in front of him, he bent the other one, and dropped into a bow.  With effort he raised his heavy head and slowly walked on.