Witch Read online

  Randy would never forget the first day he saw her.

  He was practicing the sword with his two best friends, Candle Robinson and Doug Phillips, in a meadow on the edge of town in the shadow of the woods, just west of their little town of Oaktree. The woods, it was said, that no man had ever gone into and come out alive and sane.

  Candle was sparring with Randy with ferocious intensity, slashing at Randy quickly with all his strength. Candle had been born with eyes that looked like they had a film over them, which affected his ability to see. Doug’s older brother Jamie would often throw things at Candle, knowing he wouldn’t see them in time to dodge. There was one time when Jamie had thrown fecal matter. Candle even had a small, star-shaped scar on his cheek from being punched while Jamie was wearing his steel star-shaped ring. Jamie, Randy was certain, was the largest and ugliest boy on the planet.

  Randy blocked a slash from Candle quite easily and slapped him in the ribs with the broad of the practice sword. Candle crumpled to the ground. Swaggering a little, he helped Candle to his feet. And then Randy’s head was snapped back after a vicious punch from the side. He smelled the familiar odor of stale sweat and wet dog as he fell.

  It was Jamie Phillips.

  “Little boys want to learn to fight?” Jamie Phillips cried, throwing poor Candle back to the ground in a heap and punching him viciously in the head. Candle leaped up, and Randy cried out, “No!”

  Candle swung the blade of his steel practice sword right at Jamie’s head.

  But Jamie stepped back easily, his straw-colored hair flying in the wind. Then he stepped in and wrestled the sword away from Candle, threw the skinny Candle to the ground and kicked him in the head viciously. Candle didn’t move now, but Jamie stood over him, holding the practice sword in his hand.

  “You want to try to cut me, you little—” Jamie swore and swung the sword back above his head. But then Randy stepped into his way, blocking the intended sword thrust and kicking the big man in the chest. Jamie was only nineteen, but he stood six and a half feet tall, taller than Randy by a few inches, and he had more than a foot on Doug and Candle. He was thick and muscular, too, while all of them still had the wiry builds of boys.

  “Leave him alone,” Randy said, glaring at Jamie, crouched in a fighting stance. “He only tried to cut you because you bully him all the time. Maybe you just don’t like your own medicine.”

  Jamie stepped back, and Randy saw the fear in his eyes. Two of his friends had come along and were cheering him on. His little brother was Randy’s close friend. Randy could see the man’s eyes working, trying to find a way to save face without fighting Randy. I should call him out as a coward, Randy thought. But then he saw the big man’s eyes gleam, and he knew he’d waited too long.

  “I’ll tell you what, Randy. I’ll leave your friend Candle alone, forever. On one condition.” Then he threw the practice sword hard, end over end, deep into the forest. “All you have to do is go into the woods and come out alive and sane.”

  Jamie’s two friends cackled as though Jamie had made the world’s greatest joke. Doug was helping Candle up. He said something, and Candle echoed it.

  But for Randy, the world had gone completely and utterly still.

  All you have to do is go into the woods and come out alive and sane. Randy stared at the trees. He never believed any of the stories. The townspeople said that a witch lived in the woods. They blamed her for everything from animals dying to men leaving their wives to droughts and beyond.

  To Randy, it had always seemed a little too convenient. Cheap out on your cow feed and have it die of worms? Was that the fault of a witch or the cow’s owner? Randy knew which he believed.

  They also accused her of eating children, though Randy suspected that was just an old story. Keeps the kids obedient if you tell them the witch will eat them if they don’t listen to ma and pa.

  Still, the woods loomed large in his mind. He had never gone into them nor known anyone who had. In fact, wait … he looked back at Jamie, whose smile was slowly disappearing, Hadn’t there been a story that Jamie and Doug’s father had gone into the woods, and never come out? That he’d been bewitched?

  And yet Randy knew that the Phillips’s father had been a drunk who liked to hunt, and there were many more dangerous things in the wilderness to a drunk who liked to hunt beyond a witch.

  He looked back at the woods. The trees seemed darker than those to the east of the little village of Oaktree. The brush was thicker. There was no clear path into the woods. He looked back at Jamie, who was trying to keep the cocky grin on his face even though by now he knew—they both knew—that Randy was going to call his bluff. Randy was going into the woods.

  “All right, Jamie, I’ll go into the woods, and you’ll never bother Candle again. I won’t even ask you for anything else. Although, you probably should call me daddy after this.”

  Jamie’s two lackeys oohed. Randy looked at Doug as if to say, but I don’t mean anything bad about your dad.

  “You think you’re so clever, huh, Randy? Well, you’ll probably die in those woods, or you’ll come back mad. So have fun then, idiot,” Jamie snarled, but Randy wasn’t really paying attention. Doug and Candle were standing in his way, and they both put their hands on his chest.

  “You don’t have to do this for me, Randy,” Candle said.

  “Are you sure you want to do this, Randy?” Doug asked at the same time.

  He brushed the two of them aside. “It’ll be fine. I’m going to go for a nice walk in the woods, get our sword back, and get rid of these dickweed bullies for good.”

  He had taken maybe ten steps when he heard Candle’s small voice behind him. “But Randy, nobody ever goes into the woods!”

  That doesn’t matter, Randy thought. Doing what no one else ever had was how legends were made. And really, it probably was just a nice walk through a forest.

  Darkness enveloped him as he entered the forest. A strange and suffocating darkness. When he looked back, he could no longer see the other boys through the brush, though he’d only take a few steps. He moved forward cautiously, marking his surroundings and noting the breeds of tree and bush and their locations to find his way back. But even that wasn’t easy. The little light there was ensured that the shadows played tricks on his eyes.

  It was silent, too. Wasn’t there supposed to be noise in a forest? They say that no man has ever returned from the forest alive or sane. A disquiet entered his chest. He squinted in the darkness to see. He looked back behind him and saw that he could no longer see the forest’s edge at all. He breathed out softly, recognizing a wayward pine behind him. Still, he could see how someone could get lost in these woods. He turned forward.

  A branch crunched underneath his foot, and if anything, the stillness increased. It was almost as though the entire forest was staring at him. He moved a branch out of his way and then stopped dead. There in front of him, hanging from a tree, was a glyph made entirely of bone.

  Randy wasn’t superstitious, but he shivered anyway. He moved away from the glyph, and then there it was! He saw a glint of steel in the darkness and walked toward it. It was the sword! Trapped among some moss within a tree. He yanked and pulled it free.

  “Hello, Randy,” the voice was low and feminine. Sword in hand and arms before him, he turned and saw her.

  She was tall for a woman, and she had long dark hair that spread to her shoulders. He frowned, feeling a bit disappointed. If this was the witch, she looked like an ordinary villager. She was thin and pale and wore a combination of leather and rags and fur, just like everyone in Oaktree. She was a bit cleaner than most villagers. Like maybe she actually opted to bathe regularly.

  “So you’re the baby eater, huh?” Randy’s tone suggested boredom.


  Her smile faded slightly. “That is one thing I don’t do, Randy.”

  Randy shrugged as he stared at her golden eyes.

  “You’re not surprised I know your name?” Her playful smile returned.

  “We were exercising not far from here. You could have been listening.” Though, if he were pressed, he would admit his heart was beating faster.

  “I could have been. My name is Celia.” She offered him her hand as though she were a lady and he should kiss it. He looked at it for a moment, then shook it up and down as men did at the village when they greeted one another, a grin on his face.

  “Nice to meet you, Celia.” He could smell her now. She smelled of lilac in late spring. His knees wobbled slightly, and his head felt fuzzy at the scent. She had a small nose, and those golden eyes were almost hypnotic. She was quite pretty. Maybe not legendary evil-witch pretty, but plenty pretty for Randy, the son of a farmer and carpenter.

  “I should get back to my friends,” he said and tried to move past her. But she leaned in his direction, blocking his way. She was very close to him now. He could feel her breath on his chin.

  “You don’t believe the rumors about me, do you?” she asked, her eyes so close to his. The golden color caused him to open his own dark eyes in wonder. He’d never seen anything like it before.

  “Not really, no. Always seemed a little too convenient to me,” he said, and then as though just noticing her closeness, he added, “Although, you are acting a bit strange right now.”

  She moved back, and her laughter was deep and rich. He liked the sound and wanted to hear it again.

  “I’m sorry, Randy. It’s just that I don’t get many visitors, and never one like you,” she said, and Randy’s chest puffed up from the compliment. “May I give you a gift?” she asked.

  “A gift?” Randy asked, suspicion darkening his face.

  “Nothing terribly important.” She reached into the folds of her clothing. The skin near her breasts was exposed as she did so, and he felt his eyes drawn there as though against his will. He drew a ragged breath and made his expression blank as she turned. She had a small leather thong with an amulet in her hands. A necklace?

  “It’s just a little charm to wear around your neck,” she said. “For protection.”

  It was a little bone hammer with runes and totems etched into it. He shivered slightly as he gazed at it. The symbols seemed to shift under his watchful gaze. Then slowly, he nodded. It wasn’t a necklace. It was a soldier’s totem.

  He heard a call in the distance and realized it was Candle, wondering if he was all right. He looked at the witch—Celia, he reminded himself.

  “I should get back to my friends,” he said and, for a moment, wondered if she would try to stop him again.

  But she only nodded and smiled, although her smile never reached her eyes, which drooped low as though saddened by some knowledge he didn’t have.

  “You should come back and see me again, Randy,” she said, and her fingers traced his cheek. He held her gaze for a moment.

  “I think I’d like that,” he said, and he turned and walked back toward Candle and the others, out of the forest and away.

  When Randy emerged from the forest, Candle and Doug ran toward him, wrapping him up in a hug.

  “Randy! You made it,” Doug exclaimed joyously.

  Randy smiled as he hugged the two men, glaring over their shoulders at Jamie, who had his head slumped down in defeat. But then, before turning back to the village, he gave a look over his shoulder at Randy.

  “You might be alive, Randy. But there’s no evidence you’re sane.” Jamie spat, then he and his lackeys turned and walked away.

  Randy, Doug, and Candle began their walk back to the village. As they crossed the meadow and came to the old wooden bridge over the stream, they stopped dead in their tracks.

  There were soldiers in livery in the village. The red and blue of their lord, Prince Egerton. The three boys looked wordlessly at one another. Randy swallowed, then hugged Candle one more time. They had all known this would happen.

  The struggle for succession between Egerton and Danforth had turned violent. Randy was going to war.

  Seven years later

  Randy fingered the totem Celia had given him as he moved through the forest. He’d managed to keep it despite the war. He was Randy from Oaktree. He’d never lost the chain.

  He looked like a fugitive, he knew. His close shave had developed into a long dark beard, and his usually tightly cropped hair was falling over his ears. He was dirty and stinking as well. Eight days of running through the wilderness will do that to a man. Still, the war was over. He wouldn’t be the only fugitive from Egerton’s army on the road, though he might be the only one near the remote little village of Oaktree where he’d grown up.

  It was part of the reason he was here, in the woods to the east of Oaktree. He didn’t think any of Prince Danforth’s Marshalls would roam so far. He could hide in Oaktree for a while.

  Of course, it wasn’t Prince anymore but Emperor Danforth. He spat with bitterness.

  Though he didn’t like admitting it to himself, Celia was the other reason he was coming home. After all, it was the totem and the memory of her and the woods that had …

  The thought died as he saw what was up ahead. There was a group of imperial soldiers on the road, and they were busy stringing two men up for a hanging. The type he’d seen many of on his journey here. Egerton’s men, hanging from trees or impaled on spikes. A warning to any who dared to resist Danforth’s rule.

  Randy ducked behind a tree and watched as one of the soldiers strung a rope around the neck of the first man. He was tall and lanky, and even from a distance, Randy could see a wild, almost mad gleam in his eyes. He was shouting about something, but Randy couldn’t make it out. The soldiers laughed at him. Randy’s eyes turned to the second man.

  He was short and stout, with a chest like a barrel. He had dark hair and a ragged dark beard. Unlike his brother’s, which was the color of straw. Randy’s face went pale, rigid, staring at the man.

  It was Doug Phillips.

  Randy swallowed hard. There were five imperial soldiers on the road. The easiest thing to do would be to slink off into the woods and forget that this had ever happened. Remain undetected, don’t attract any attention to himself. Stay safe, at least for a few more months.

  But it was Doug down there.

  Randy breathed out softly, putting his hand over his shoulder, and touching the yew of his bow. He ran his hand along it, pretending just for a moment longer that he could walk away.

  Then, so quick you could’ve sworn he wasn’t human, he pulled the bow out, nocked an arrow, stepped out onto the road, and fired. The imperial soldier fell, the rope still in his hands. Blood splattered on the bound men’s faces.

  Another soldier was turning, but Randy had already nocked and released another arrow, sending him staggering back, an arrow in his chest. The soldiers were all running at him now. Randy nocked one last arrow and dropped it into the nearest soldier’s eye. He screamed, an awful, blood-curdling sound, his hands grasping at the arrow even as he took his last breath.

  The two remaining soldiers closed cautiously. They were professionals, and neither would rush in. Instead, they moved laterally, and Randy was forced to shuffle back to prevent one from circling behind. He feinted a dart in, then quickly stepped the other way, so fast that the first man was still going backward even while the second man closed in to where he thought Randy would be. But instead, he met Randy’s sword, which slid through his ribs with ease. A river of blood formed underneath him as he fell. The man groaned in agony, and Randy kicked him away. Then he turned toward the last man.

  The soldier feinted toward Randy with his sword. Then he turned and ran away as fast as he could. But Randy was faster. He closed in on the man, bringing his weight down on his back, slashing his sword across his neck, and cutting his throat. The man slumped to the ground, t
he tattered remains of his throat splayed outward around his neck. Randy stood slowly, wiping his sword on the dead man’s cloak. He wiped his blood-covered face and then walked over to where the two bound men stood, each still with a rope around his neck.

  “That was amazing, amazing!” the wild-eyed man screamed. “You are Achilles reborn! A god of combat!” He continued to babble, but Randy tuned him out, drawing close to Doug. He took the rope off the man’s neck, then pulled up his hood.

  “Randy!” The stout man threw his arms around Randy. Randy tensed, then relaxed. It had been a long time since somebody had hugged him. It wasn’t as bad as he’d remembered. “I can’t believe it’s you, though I should have known when I saw you fight. I thought you were dead!”

  “Not yet,” Randy said, allowing a small smile to crawl over his face. “It’s good to see you.”

  “Gentlemen! Please, I’m loving this reunion, but I’d like you to take the rope off my neck. And the ones from my hands would be nice, too.” The wild-eyed man had a high-pitched voice that seemed to scratch the ear.

  Randy frowned and cut the ropes at Doug’s hands, then turned and began freeing the other man. He noticed a long, jagged scar running down the man’s face. As he took the rope off his neck, he saw a small brand of a rose on the side of the man’s neck. Randy frowned. He knew that brand. He just couldn’t remember ...

  “Ah, Randy, this is Kevin. He was a soldier, too. He didn’t have anywhere else to go, so I said he could come back to Oaktree. He uh, his family …” Doug paused.

  “I’m from Glerester,” Kevin said, and Randy started. Glerester, the screams of the victims at Glerester. Randy’s mind snapped a wall around the memory. He was Randy. He had never been to Glerester. He had never seen any fires. He forced himself to nod stiffly.

  “I heard about what happened there.” Randy looked at Kevin. “I’m sorry.”

  “Why are you sorry? Did you start the fires? Is our rescuer Guhtred the Black?” Kevin threw back his head and laughed at the joke, but Randy felt sick. He shook his head.