The Wealding Word (24 page)

Evelyn moseyed over to join her. Pointing up at the black-antlered creature, she said, “That’s a Nightmare; and the other one is a Gabboc: a mocking-beast. It can change its form to look like any man, that’s why it doesn’t have a face. Supposedly they are a pair.”

Nell shuddered at the sight of them. “Don’t you think they’re creepy? Why would anyone have a painting of them?” The background scene depicted a many-columned shrine on a hill. The sun in the picture was a small, dismal thing, half covered by an opal disc.

“A little creepy, I guess. Mummy has all sorts of paintings,” Evelyn said. She slapped another book closed, “I can’t find anything good here. I want to do something
fun
.” It was late afternoon, and Rhiannon had visited in the morning. Since flying over the sea exhausted the Widow, she never made the trip more than she had to, and that meant the girls were free to do as they pleased today.

“Well this isn’t a very fun place. We can’t even go outside,” Nell complained. They left the library and strolled down the hall, coming to stop before the pair of large iron doors. Black skulls peered down from the corners. A scaly serpent with three tail-chasing heads spiraled from the lock in the center. Nell eyed it speculatively. “I bet we can find something scary in there.”

“I’m not allowed,” Evelyn said.

Nell rolled her eyes. “You’re the one who wants to do something fun. Wouldn’t it be fun to know where Rhiannon goes with your pearls?”

“I guess,” Evelyn said, pruning her lips in an attempt to muster some courage. “But it’s locked. Only Mummy has the key.”

Nell gripped her candlestone. “Maybe Swsty can help us.” As always, the marble was warm, trembling with a life of its own. She held it up to the lock and then gently pushed. The left door swung open with a creak, cold air gushing from the depths beyond.
Both girls looked at each other, grinning nervously. Inside, stairs led steeply downward. Nell leaned her head through the entryway, holding the stone up for light. As she stepped in, Evelyn twitched violently behind her. It was as if the girl’s body tried to move in two directions at once.

“I… We shouldn’t… But… I-I’m coming too!” Climbing atop a chair, Evelyn slid a torch from its sconce. Then, hand in hand the girls descended the stone steps, into the darkness beneath the keep.

The ground at the bottom squished when they walked on it. Pale, dried grasses lay all about, as though at one time there was sunlight enough down there for something to grow. Now all was dead and rotting.

Nell looked up at the doorway atop the stairs. She knew this was no ordinary cellar they had discovered. The chamber seemed to be one vast, open space, with no ceiling or walls to be seen. In fact, it felt like they were standing outside on a starless night, rather than in a dungeon. “I don’t like it here,” Nell said, feeling the Word resonate in the pit of her belly. “This place is kind of familiar, but it’s all wrong. Maybe we should go back up.” She placed her foot upon the bottom stair.

Evelyn’s sunken eyes kindled at Nell’s reluctance. “What, are you scared? Mummy Ann comes down here all the time. There’s nothing to worry about.”

“But she’s a sorceress,” Nell said, still standing on the step.

“And so am I,” Evelyn proclaimed. “If something bad comes after us, I’ll send it away.” Smoothing the folds of her silk dress, she glanced about. “Look! There’s a light over there. Let’s see what it is.”

Nell feared a threat worse than kittens here in the private domain of the sorceress; but there was no arguing with Evelyn. After a moment, she could see the light too – orange like a bonfire. Haggard trees leaned over them, their limbs naked and sagging. The place was a distortion, and the wet, bubbling ground reminded Nell of the
sore upon Gadnik’s chest. Soon the stairs back to the keep were lost behind trees and mist.

When the girls reached the source of the light, they discovered a cistern of sorts, filled to the brim with undulating water. In fact, it was almost an exact replica of the well that Nell had fallen into, except the stones of this one were each inscribed with a glimmering sigil.

They peered over the side of the well and saw a restless orange light changing shape beneath the water. They stared down, watching its endless dance, wondering what it was. Finally Nell turned away, holding her candlestone high to find their path. “We should go back to the stairs. I don’t like it here.”

Evelyn became more daring at every sign of weakness on Nell’s part. Ignoring Nell, she said, “How do you think Mummy Ann got a fire to burn at the bottom of a well? Let’s throw something in there.” The folds of her prim white dress reflected the glow of the cistern like the orange edges of a charred sheaf of paper.

“That’s not a good idea,” Nell said. “We don’t know what we’re doing.” Inside, she attempted to quiet herself, letting the silence of the Word separate her from her fear. There was no life that she could feel down here, the musty landscape was dead all around. But Nell could sense a powerful magic about the place – spikes and whips of sound threatening to puncture her brain. “We should go,” she said again.

Heedless, Evelyn reached up and grabbed one of the bows fastening her braids. She tossed it into the water with a flick of her wrist, and the flame below calmed to a steady pulse.

“Why did you do that?” Nell gasped.

“I’m a sorceress, and this is my wishing well.
I wish I had all of Mummy Ann’s magic, and the Wealding Word too,”
she intoned.

Fascinated, Nell looked on as the floating ribbon began to swirl. “I don’t think it’s a wishing well.”

“Shhh!”

The runes lining the cistern pulsed in time with the flame. Then with a crackle, the ribbon fused into the water and the surface darkened. Shapes wavered up from below. A scene appeared, and it was as though the girls were looking down from a balcony onto a silent play. Nell saw Rhiannon, old and bent, but not quite as decrepit as Nell remembered her. The sorceress carried a baby swaddled in pink blankets. It wailed mutely as Rhiannon inspected its face, finally kissing its forehead with her hairy lips. She handed the baby to a man no older than Ward. Around his neck he wore a silver chain with a pearl attached to it.

“Is that… Gadnik?” Nell asked. Evelyn made no reply.

Though his eyes were sunken, the young Gadnik looked alert and happy in the scene. He took the baby and drew her close to his shoulder. Just then a ripple disturbed the image, and a series of scenes came and went in quick succession. There was Gadnik changing a diaper. Next he was motioning to a chubby tot in a pink dress. She took a shaky step toward him, and just before she toppled, he swept her up into his arms, both of them laughing. The scene shifted to Gadnik reading with a toddler sitting on his lap. The little girl grabbed at the pearl around his neck but he gently shied her hand away. Next he was writing letters on a board. The girl was older, her face scrunched up in thought. Though only three or four years had passed for her, Gadnik looked entirely worn. The pearl had eaten a sizable divot in his chest, and his eyes were black and swollen. Still, he clapped gaily when the youngster identified the letter ‘E’ before her. More images raced by, each a milestone in the life of the girl. And all the while, Gadnik withered before their eyes.

“That’s you…” Nell could not believe the tale unfolding in the water.

Evelyn kept her silence. Up until this point there were very few scenes with Rhiannon. But the next one showed Evelyn hugging
Gadnik, both of them weeping. The crone appeared behind them wearing an impatient frown. She took the pearl from around his neck, and sent Gadnik from the room without a replacement chain. The man gave Evelyn a shaky smile from the door, just before the sorceress slammed it in his face. She then produced a stuffed blue bear from the folds of her robe. It wore a necklace suspended with a delicate pearl. When she saw it, little Evelyn stopped crying and hugged the toy. It was then that Rhiannon slid the chain from the bear and placed it around the girl’s neck.

“That was my seventh birthday,” Evelyn said in a hushed tone. “It was the last time Gadnik ever spoke. He changed after that.” Her voice came soft and sad. “I forgot… all that. I forgot he ever spoke at all.”

The vignettes continued. Evelyn was alone in most of them: reading, or painting, or teaching herself to sew. One scene stood out, however. Beneath the great stained glass windows of her room, she was showing the witch a drawing, but Rhiannon had other plans that day. Putting aside the artwork, the crone took Evelyn by the hand and whispered something in her ear. At once, young Evelyn’s eyes clasped shut in horror, her mouth stretched in a scream. Rhiannon left the girl crying on the floor as the water of the well ripped again. Scene after lonely scene continued, finally drawing to one with Nell in it. Now she was the one with her eyes clamped shut, holding a kitten in her arms. Nearby, Evelyn stood banishing the cats from her bed in a hideous display.

The surface of the well clouded over after that, and the flame deep within resumed its dance. The spectacle was over. Moments passed. The two girls stared down at the murk without speaking. It was Evelyn who broke the silence, grumbling, “I don’t feel any different. This thing didn’t give me my wish.”

“Let’s go,” Nell said firmly. “I think the passage up is back this way.”

They stumbled through sagging bracken and prickly vines, Evelyn gripping her magical torch, and Nell the candlestone. But the path they followed to the well was lost. They seemed to keep running into the same thicket. Then, from beyond the glow of their lights, a wail cracked the stillness.

“Are you sure this is the way out?” Evelyn asked.

“You might know, you were with me!” Nell accused in a whisper. The inhuman cry came again, closer, and a breeze rattled the dead vegetation around them.

Nell could feel the Word thrum in her chest. She never felt anything like it, but she knew it meant danger. A thing of twisted magic was near, coming at them from the darkness. The air itself began to crackle. “It knows where we are. We need to run,” Nell said.

The girls dashed away at full speed, splashing through mud and stands of dry reeds in their desperate search for the stairs. Instead, they came upon an arrangement of columns supporting nothing but the blackness. Powder-white human skulls ringed the base of each pillar, glowing dully in the light of the torches fixed above.

Nell barely gave the headless structure a look. Escape was her only thought, and she started off again, crunching a grisly assortment of bones beneath her feet. She was tugged suddenly backward by Evelyn though. The sunken-eyed girl was hypnotized by something she spotted between the columns.

In the middle of the rotunda sat a misshapen chair of glistening white. Its seat and arms drooped forward, and its back dipped crookedly in on itself, as though it were melting. Slowly it became clear what gave the chair its sheen: pearls of every size covered it, thousands of the tiny stones reflecting the torchlight. Some were fused together, others seemed newly fastened. The whole place stunk of rotting meat – the stench of Rhiannon.

Evelyn put her hand to the pearled chain at her neck. “What is it for?” She looked like she was going to be sick. “This is what Mummy does with my pearls?” Tears streamed down her cheeks.
“What is it for?”

“She’s using you. Just like she used Gadnik,” said Nell.

Evelyn was unable to take her eyes off the tortured chair. “No, she wouldn’t.”

As they spoke, a head like a rotten melon reared up from between the pillars on the other side of the rotunda, gibbering to them on the wind. Evelyn shrieked as its clawed hand suddenly clutched the back of the chair. The ghastly thing was creeping forward quickly.

At that, Nell pulled Evelyn’s wrist and ran from the pillars as fast as she could. Evelyn stumbled behind her, still reeling from the shock of the pearled seat. The candlestone and torch made the girls an easy target, but there was no helping it now. Ferns ripped at their skin as they charged, blind to where they were heading. In the distance, the ghoul gibbered and spat, its awful stammer growing louder every time.

Then Nell saw a faint light filtering through the trees ahead. “It’s daylight!” The girls raced toward the opening and Nell burst through it first, immediately slipping on slimy stones. The door, really a tiny fissure at the base of the ruin, opened out almost directly onto the sea. Yellow strangleweed stretched to the horizon, lolling languidly in the dying light of day. Now just moments past sunset, the sky showed a brilliant purple to the west. “We made it,” Nell yelled. When she got to her feet again, she found Evelyn still frozen in the doorway. “Come on! We have to get away from here!”

“Can’t – go – out,” Evelyn choked. She thrashed at the door, gritting her teeth against some unseen force.

The cry of the dead thing echoed from the darkness below the ruin. “You have to! It’s coming!” Nell screamed.

With an excruciating effort, Evelyn groped at the pearl about her neck. She couldn’t seem to reach it. It was as though she was slipping on the edge of a chasm and could only scrabble for a rope with lifeless hands. When her numbed fingers finally caught hold of the chain, she shrieked again in pain.

“You have to come!” Nell said. She went forward to pull Evelyn by the shoulders, but at that moment the Word thundered in her chest: a warning not to touch her companion. She stopped just out of reach, terrified to do nothing, but even more terrified to help.

Yeffel gulls beat their ugly wings at the commotion on the rocks. Evelyn shuddered, and when she did, it seemed the entire island shook with her. Her hand tugged on the necklace once, twice, and then began to slide feebly away. Tears streamed down her face.