Witch Crag (17 page)

Wekka looked across to Vild, eyebrows raised. Vild nodded firmly, the beginnings of a smile on her lips.

“Break three of the bars!” Wekka ordered. “Enough for the prisoner to scrape through. Keep your arrows trained on him. If he makes one bad move – shoot him.”

Kita stood rooted to the ground, mouth dry. She was aware that Vild was now standing next to her, murmuring, “I told you we weren't all sweetness and light.”

“What's going to happen?” croaked Kita.

“Wait and see.”

A great cracking and smashing followed, as the warrior witches broke down three of the bars. Then Arc stepped blinking into the arena, with two oozing arrows trained on his face by his guards.

“Speak, sheepman!” ordered Wekka.

“Speak,” he echoed. “
Speak
. I've had my mind turned inside out and back again these past few days, and now you want me to speak with death dripping in front of me. Lower those arrows, then I'll speak.”

The toxic arrows drew closer. “
Speak!
” roared Wekka.

And suddenly it was as if Kita's head was filled with hot, white light and lightning was ripping its way out of her mouth. “
Stop threatening him!
” she yelled. “You agreed to parley – take those arrows from his face! Or you're lost – debased – you're on a level with them, the city scum and the marauders and the horsemen. You're already defeated!”

There was stunned silence. Then Vild whispered, “Witch rage.
Well done!
” And a look passed between her and Wekka, who raised her arm, and the arrows dropped. Arc gazed at Kita open mouthed, trying and absolutely failing to keep a look of awed admiration from his face. Then he drew himself up, and spoke. “I've been in the old city. Wekka's right about keeping away from it. It's infested with human vermin who know every twist and turn and tunnel of the place. They'd pick us off, one by one. We'd be annihilated.”

“So what do you suggest, sheepman?” said Pitch.

“We must all stand together,” Arc said, and he looked straight at Kita, acknowledging her, acknowledging he was speaking her words. “The sheepmen, the horsemen, the farmers, the witches too. If we stand together, we survive.”

A sizzle and hum of excitement answered his words.

“We need to trap them,” he went on. “Wait until their metal army makes a second invasion on the farmers – then surround them. Meet them in open battle on the farmlands. Cut off their retreat to the rotting city.
Destroy them
. Use our separate skills and strengths, and fight together. And survive.”

He looked over at Wekka, whose eyes hadn't left him, and who now nodded forcefully, telling him to continue. “My people were waiting for me to report back,” he said, “until my men reported me seized by the witches. Well, I'll report back. I'll tell them what I've learnt about the old city preparing its arsenal, about the attack on the farmers, about the ways of the witches. They may decide I'm mad and slit my throat. Or they may just listen to me. And call the horsemen to a council of war.”

There was a tense silence, the witches waiting for Wekka to respond. But Pitch spoke first. “I'll go with you, sheepman!” he cried. “I'll tell them our side. Of the need for haste. And provide horses for our trip.”

“And I'll go too!” called a musical voice from the back of the crowd. The crowd parted, to let the pretty, curvy horseman's bride through.

“Too dangerous, Lilly!” a witch wailed. “The horsemen will seize you back again.”

“But don't you see, it's perfect,” Lilly answered, passionately, looking around at everyone. “Who better than me to crack the horsemen's minds open, show them how wrong they were about the witches, and help make the union?”

“It's risky,” said Vild. “It could backfire. But I salute your courage, Lilly. Are you really sure you're prepared to undertake this? It cost you so much to get here.”

“Yes, and I've learned so much here, I've
grown
so much here!” cried Lilly, gripping her hands together. “Anything I can do to protect Witch Crag – to keep it safe – I'll do it. Anything.
”

Kita looked at Lilly, stunned. Then she looked at Vild, who was looking straight back at her. “What fine, courageous young women we have among us,” she said, smiling. “Thank you, Lilly. Thank you indeed. I'll contact our two witchmen at the horsemen fort. Tonight they'll dream that the change they're working for is about to lurch violently towards them. They'll be waiting, ready, for something to happen. And if Arc succeeds in convincing his people, and a council of war is called, they'll make sure they're among the horsemen who come to it. To help make the union, alongside Lilly.”

“One of the witches must go too,” said Wekka.

“Not you, dearling,” said Nada. “They're not quite ready for you yet.”

“No,” agreed Wekka, grinning. “A young male warrior. To shake their prejudices about us hags. To show that witches have children too.”

“I volunteer!” cried a voice. A tall, elegant boy with brown hair to his shoulders strode forward.

“Accepted,” said Wekka. “Thank you, Flay.” Then she looked around at everyone and said, “So! A desperate, bold plan. But are the witches agreed? Do we support this venture?”

There was a rustle of excited discussion, of fearful consideration, then one by one the witches called out, “Agreed!
Agreed!
”

Then Arc spoke up again. “A fifth member.” He turned, and pointed steadily at Kita.
“She
must come.”

Kita took in a huge breath. Then she exhaled, and looked steadily back at him. “Agreed,” she said.

“You don't have to go,” whispered Quainy, some time later, as they all huddled round the great oval fire pit, waiting for dinner. “I don't know why he's trying to make you go. Well, I do – but it won't do. Putting you in danger just so he can get his hands on you. Don't trust him, Kita.
Please
.”

It had been arranged that the five would descend the steep north face of the crag at first light, then ride to the sheepman hill fort. If all went well, they would be there by the second day. Pitch's three men had already left, to arrange mounts and provisions to be ready at the foot of the crag.

“Quainy, dearling – you don't understand,” said Kita, softly. “Which isn't surprising, because I'm not sure I do. But it's got nothing to do with trusting Arc – it's gone far beyond that. If the tribes don't unite against the invasion of the old city, one after the other we'll be enslaved, destroyed. And like Lilly, I think I can be of use, I think I can help bring the union about.”

“I wish Lilly wouldn't go, either. I'm scared for her.”

“Oh, Quainy,” Kita sighed.

She couldn't explain that when Arc had pointed at her, she'd recognized the “what was to come” that Vild had spoken of. She'd seen that her purpose was to come to Witch Crag – then leave it again.

And now Quainy was frowning, wailing, “Kita, we've only just
got
here! And it was such a terrible journey – and now you want to put yourself in danger again—”

“We're
all
in danger!”

“I know, I know,” persisted Quainy. “But why d'you always have to be in the front line?”

Kita smiled, and took hold of her old friend's hand. The jealousy she'd felt, the anger – it had evaporated. But Vild was right. They could never go back to their old closeness, to how it used to be. She'd moved beyond it, somehow.

On the opposite side of the fire, Arc was hunkered down next to Wekka. The warrior witch kept her eyes trained on him; she was still coiled, untrusting, ready to strike. But she was also speaking to him.

Pitch was with another group of witches, talking too much, waving his hands nervously. Lilly and Flay sat beside each other some way away, conversing in low voices.

“I don't know what they're all talking about,” muttered Kita. “There's nothing we can plan for. None of us has any idea what to expect.”

*

The next morning, just as dawn was breaking, Vild woke Kita and led her across the compound to the snail-shell bathhouse. “Part of the preparation,” she whispered. “For your quest.”

Lilly had just had her bath when they arrived; she was sitting, white faced, in the outer ring. She tried and failed to smile at Kita as she came in; a young witch was plaiting her mane of glorious chestnut hair, and trying to encourage her to eat one of the mushroom pasties that were laid out on a tray.

“New garments for all of you,” murmured Vild, indicating the line of clothes hanging on pegs on the curved wall. They were the kind the warrior witches wore – elemental colours, the cut streamlined and strong. “Except for Arc. He insisted he'd stick to his footsoldier gear. He's probably right. The sheepmen need to recognize him. Ah well – we tried to clean it up for him.”

Soon, Kita was submerging herself in the hot silky water of the bath, her hair floating out behind her. A tangy, invigorating smell flooded her senses; it reminded her of pine forests and sharp, frosty mornings. Vild had told her special herbs and essences had been added to the water. She washed carefully, surrendering herself to the ritual of cleansing, allowing her mind to empty. Then she heard Arc's voice, from outside. “All right, if you insist we have this
bath
, Pitch and I can sluice off together. We need to hurry. It's almost light.”

Immediately, she clambered out from the pool, dried herself, and pulled on the dark red tunic and trousers that Vild had chosen for her. Soft and pliable, they fitted snugly. Then she combed back her hair with her fingers, and went out into the outer ring.

Arc looked straight at her, and she met his look. “Ready,” she said.

He responded by pulling his shirt off, still staring at her. She laughed, refusing to let her eyes drop below his.

Pitch grinned, then swaggered into the bathhouse, yanking off his worn clothes as he went. Arc followed.

“
Whoooo
,” breathed the young witch, tying a green thread round the bottom of Lilly's plait. “I wouldn't mind spying on those two as they get in the water.”

Kita laughed again, and picked up a pasty from the tray. She was hungry.

It had been agreed that only Wekka and two other warriors would escort the five down to the base of the crag, where their horses would be waiting, but a murmuring crowd of witches was gathered at the graceful willow gates, waiting to see them off. Raff and Quainy were there, too, holding hands. As soon as they saw Kita they came over to her, and Quainy threw her arms round her. “It's not too late to say no, Kita,” she whispered.

“Quainy –
please
don't.”

“Sorry. Sorry. Just – it's been so weird between us! I feel like I found Raff – but lost you! And I hoped that now we're here, and that awful journey's over – I hoped we might be able to spend some time together. The three of us. Didn't we, Raff?”

“Yes,” said Raff, simply. “We miss you, mad one.”

Kita took in a breath. “I miss you too. I really do. But things have changed – everything's changed. And I have to do this.”

“I know,” said Raff. “I'm beginning to see that.”

“You seemed. . .” croaked Quainy, “you seemed so angry with us.”

“I was,” said Kita. “I'm sorry.”

“No,
we're
sorry—” Quainy broke off. Arc had suddenly appeared beside them.

“The other two runaways,” he said. “I thought I saw you in the distance.”

“Hello, Arc,” said Raff. “We both made it to Witch Crag, then.”

“Yes. Funny, eh? Was it you who stole Drell's knife? Before you scarpered?”

“Yes,” said Raff, squaring up to him.

“Make good use of it, did you?”

“No. You and your footsoldiers didn't get close enough.”

“
Hah
,” snorted Arc.

“And, apart from that, I just used it to skin a few rabbits. Waste of time nicking it, really.”

“So give it to Kita now. She might make better use of it.”

“I would do, but Geegaw – the seer from the old city the witches keep dreaming of? – he relieved me of it.”

Arc said nothing, just stared witheringly at Raff, as though losing the knife was the ultimate proof of his uselessness. Raff stared unblinkingly back.

Then Vild pushed between them. “Kita,” she said, “I have something for you. The boys have their own weapons. This is for you.” She held out a wide leather belt, with a holster holding a dagger attached to it. The belt had the shapes of oak leaves burnt into it. Vild buckled it solemnly round Kita's hips; Nada was doing the same to Lilly, nearby. Then they kissed and hugged them. Flay too was kissed and hugged, but Arc and Pitch hung back, Arc scowling, Pitch smiling nervously, neither wanting to be touched.

“Five of you,” said Vild, softly. “Five is a good number – from the ancient symbol of the pentangle.”

“Time to go,” said Arc.

Three little girls darted from the crowd and threw up fistfuls of tiny leaves that swirled in a magical green and yellow cloud, then settled on the hair of the travellers. As they walked through the gates, the witches started a low ululation, mournful and respectful.

“Is that a spell?” muttered Pitch.

“Yes,” said Vild. “They're sending you off with their love and support. And great hope.”

Wekka led the way down the sheer north face of the crag, leaping from rock to rock, the five working hard to keep up with her and put their feet where hers had been. The two other warrior witches brought up the rear, eyes sharp, scanning for danger. There was no breath for conversation. Lilly found the steep descent frightening and hard going, but Flay kept beside her, helping and encouraging her. Halfway down, Pitch stumbled badly, but Arc threw out a hand and caught him before he fell. Kita, deft and athletic, focused hard. She was determined not to need help.

As they reached the base of the crag, they heard a low whistle. Then a shock-headed boy appeared from behind a group of low trees, leading a large black horse.

The three witches bowed to everyone, and melted back in to the crag mist.

“Well done, Skipper!” said Pitch.

“We only just got here,” said Skipper, as two boys and four more horses appeared behind him. “Didn't want to be late for you – but didn't want to give any wandering thugs the chance to take a pop at us neither. Here's yours,” he added, holding out the reins.

Pitch took them and the horse neighed happily, then nuzzled the side of his head. “Hello, boy,” murmured Pitch, patting him. “You may not look so happy when you know what I've got planned for you.”

“These are for the men,” Skipper said, indicating two more mounts, “and these for the girls.” The third boy walked forward two piebald horses with charming fringes of hair round their hooves.

“Oh, what beauties!” cried Lilly, her fear evaporating. “Can I ride this one?” She took hold of the reins of the larger horse. Then – as though it was all part of the same movement – she sprang up on to its back. “Bliss!” she cried.

Kita had never ridden before. But something in her responded to the fluid way Lilly had mounted. She took hold of her horse's reins, and looked up at it. It was the nearest she'd ever been to a horse. She suddenly remembered Raff's beautiful sculpture in the old city, and what he and Quainy had said to her before she'd set off down the crag, and she felt a wrench of loss and grief.
All that's over
, she told herself, fiercely.
What's to come is all that matters now
. Then she jumped, and landed, inelegantly and too hard, on the beast's back. It lurched, and bucked, but she stayed on, grinning in triumph and determination.

“Oh, well done, sheep girl!” said Lilly. “You're a natural! Ride beside me, and I'll give you some tips as we go.”

Flay had his arm round his horse's neck, pulling its head down to his, whispering into its ear, pulling tenderly on its mane. Arc glared at him, then grabbed the reins of his own horse. Spooked, it reared up, neighing, but Arc yanked it down again.

“
Gently!
” scolded Lilly. “That's no way to treat a horse!” She trotted over to them, and put her hand on the horse's neck. “
Steady
, sweetheart,” she soothed. “Steady. Arc, give me the reins and I'll help you get up.”

Kita could tell Arc was dying to tell Lilly to clear off, but knew he needed her help. He chucked the reins at her and, while she steadied the horse, he clambered on. Meanwhile, Flay had managed to spring up on his own.

“Right then,” said Pitch, mounting effortlessly, “looks like we're all set.”

“There's good provisions in these bags,” said Skipper, handing a couple of crude sacks tied together by rope up to Pitch. “Water and nutty bread, and as many carrots as those thieving bastards left us.”

“Thanks, Skipper,” said Pitch, slinging them over his horse's back. “You've done us proud.”

There was a chorus of agreement from the others – even Arc gruffly agreed. Then Pitch said, “Right. We'll go slow at first while you three learners get the hang of it. Just focus on staying on – your horses will follow mine.”

“Let me ride beside you!” cried Lilly, eagerly. (It was quite astounding, thought Kita, how her earlier terror had given way to joy, just because of the horse.) “I think I know the direction of the hill fort from here.”

“Very well,” said Pitch.

And the five started to trot forward.

“I've made friends with my horse,” said Flay, in his smoky, subtle voice, as he drew alongside Arc. “We trust each other now. I know he'll take care of me.”

Arc's mouth twitched; he didn't reply.

They rode for an hour along tracks and across spaces in the forest, Lilly taking the lead more often than Pitch.

“I hope to get most of the way through the forest by nightfall,” said Pitch. “We can camp and then make our way on to the wastelands and then the sheep grasslands the next day. We need to arrive in daylight, I think.”

“No question,” said Arc. “If we want the gates to open for us.”

Kita slewed her eyes sideways to look at him. She'd relaxed into the rhythm of the horse, and was now enjoying riding, but Arc still seemed very uncomfortable. He held the reins too short and tight; he gripped too hard with his legs.

“Arc,
relax
,” she called out. “Your horse knows what he's doing – you don't have to control him.”

“He tried to throw me off a while back,” Arc grumbled.

“That's because you keep trying to bully him. He's not a
sheep
!”

There was a silence, then Arc said, “You're very keen to look after me, tree rat. Saving me from the witches' arrows. And now this.”

Kita could feel herself colouring up. “That's because I know this work won't succeed without you,” she said. “And I want it to succeed.” Then she cantered off to join Lilly.

“Isn't this wonderful?” said Lilly. “Riding one of these lovely noble beasties again – it's the only thing I missed on the crag. One of the few privileges horsewomen get – is to
ride
! All very contained and controlled, just to exercise the horses, but I loved it. Then in the last months, my horrible husband-to-be would take me riding. I'd ignore him totally and focus on my horse.
Fabulous!
”

Almost two hours later, Pitch called for everyone to stop. “There's a stream over there,” he called.

“You have water in those sacks,” said Arc.

“The stream,” explained Pitch, slowly, as if to an idiot, “is for the
horses
.”

Arc glowered, and reined in his mount.

“Lord, but the sheepman's grim,” Lilly murmured to Kita, as they stood watching their thirsty horses drink. “Are all of them that grim?” She imitated Arc's frown, which looked hilarious on her pretty face.

“Most of them,” giggled Kita. “Although Arc is particularly skilled at it.”

“Don't they ever have
fun
?”

“
Yes, but even their idea of fun is grim. Pushing people's faces into the mud, that kind of thing.”

“
Adorable
. Ah well. When all this is over you can go back to Witch Crag, can't you? And maybe, if the revolution succeeds, give the horsemen's fort a try, too.”

“You really see it as a revolution?”

“Yes, I do. Most of the young people and nearly all of the women – they're ready to rise up. If we get through this war with the city, the horsemen won't be allowed to go back to their old ways.”

“I wish I could say the same about the sheepmen,” mourned Kita. “Change must come to them, it
must
. I just wish I could see – how it could happen.”

“How
what
could happen?” demanded Arc, walking over to them – then he broke off, and thrust a warning finger at his mouth.

Some distance away from them, a twig had cracked. They listened, barely breathing. A rustling noise – then a branch snapping.

Pitch and Flay had become aware of the danger, and were creeping noiselessly over to join them.

“Get ready!” muttered Arc.