The Last Witch

Asher swore and ducked back into the old wooden building, still feeling the heat of the flame singe his face as the cold air sliced through the cracks in the walls. He forced his bad leg into motion as he made for the front door – if he could get to the road he could tell someone he heard the noise, that he saw the light – then paused as a deep growl echoed from the corner.

The rifle was empty, but Asher raised it anyway, and the spirits darted forward at the motion to show the biggest dog he had ever seen, hunched in the corner with its teeth bared. Asher met it’s dark, glinting eyes, and another low, dangerous growl rumbled through it’s throat. It wasn’t a herding dog, but a large thing of muscle with a narrow face and pointed ears. Not a wolf, but nothing Asher wanted to fight with either. It’s hackles were raised and its tail was low between its legs. White teeth bared against the lights of the spirits.

Slowly, Asher lowered himself down, dropping his eyes to stare at its paws instead of directly in the eye. If he moved slow enough, he could load the rifle again. Not to shoot the creature but to scare it away. Yet, the low rumbles of anger kept him still. Shouts and yells echoed out outside the door. He had to move, but the dog still glared.

‘I’m not going to hurt you,’ Asher said. Soothing voices were supposed to help, right? All he knew for sure was to never make eye contact. If the thing was agitated by the magic, he was screwed.

The paws came forward, and Asher tensed, his hand still on the gun, gripping it tight enough to turn his knuckles white. The growls eased into a heavy silence, but the glint of teeth still caught the corner of his eye. The dog eased closer, then the teeth disappeared as the animal sniffed at him. Asher held his breath. A wet nose knocked against his head, then the dog gave a high whine and dropped onto its stomach. Asher lifted his head to see the dog was still staring at him, but now the tail was thumping against the dirt, waiting. Slowly, he reached out and stroked the animal’s head. The tail thumped faster.

‘Okay, you’re alright,’ Asher said. Penn was right; the animals were scared. ‘You need to go home.’

The dog responded by dropping onto its side, it’s tongue dropping out from its mouth. Asher sighed and pulled himself up. He still needed to get out of here, but as he strained to listen, he heard no more shouts, or any sign that the hunters had reached him.

‘You know…’ the voice rang out from the doorway, making Asher jump. The dog snapped upright and barked at Olive leaning against the door frame. ‘We had stories back home. Stupid old superstitions. The Telkite elders, the ones that lived on the island before it went up, they were convinced they could see things that weren’t there. A secret world that made this one work. I always thought it was stupid. Zealous garbage and old tradition. Didn’t mean anything.’

Asher said nothing. The rifle was still in his hand, and Olive didn’t know it was empty. Something was wrong.

‘There were other stories too,’ Olive continued. Her hand rested on the pistol at her hip. ‘That Telkesi was full of witches. That’s why the water washed them away. Why they constantly fought against their neighbour kingdoms. They worked for the evils of the world.’

‘I don’t believe any of that stuff,’ Asher’s voice was tight.

‘You said that,’ Olive said. ‘When you mentioned you were a Telkite I wondered if you got raised on those stories too. Or maybe that rich boy education of yours had told you that all this was deserved. Demons come for those who commit the greatest evil, after all. Now I realise I’ve read you completely wrong.’

‘I don’t understand what you’re saying,’ Asher said. Though, he could hazard a guess; she was about to accuse him of being a witch. She had seen the pillar of light.

‘I thought you went to a high academy?’ Olive asked. ‘Don’t you remember the rules? The Underlands open to collect sinners. They snatched away the wrong in the world and balanced it out. Doesn’t that sound familiar?’

Asher swallowed. ‘Stories,’ he mumbled.

‘I know the Underlands are a real place,’ Olive said. ‘I never used to, but with all the evidence piling up, you’d be stupid not to. And you’ve seen them, haven’t you, Lieutenant?’

‘I…’ he was so fucked. ‘I don’t know,’ he stammered. ‘I don’t remember what happened.’

Olive smiled, her hand wrapping around the handle of her pistol. ‘You went into the Underlands, didn’t you?’ she asked. ‘And you made some friends in there. Some friends that let you out as one of their little minions.’

Shit. ‘You’re accusing me of causing all the damage to Dalvany?’

‘No. I’m accusing you of witchcraft,’ Olive said. ‘I’m wondering how you got out of a place like that when no-one else did.’

‘Plenty of people did,’ Asher said. A lump had formed in his throat, making it hard to breathe. ‘I am not a witch.’

‘Oh, I know Ralkauda got all liberal by removing the death sentence for witchcraft, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to have you hang straight away. Imagine the panic. The very man brought in to keep the peace was working with the other side this whole time.’

‘You don’t have any evidence of that,’ Asher said. ‘They’d think you’re insane, going on about the Underlands and demons and—’

‘I already told you, the Underlands are real. We can both stop pretending we think different,’ Olive said. ‘Captain Cheverau knew too.’

Something hard and heavy dropped in Asher’s stomach.

‘You’re snooping didn’t reveal that little bit, did it?’ Olive asked. ‘Some of us have known for a while. I’d been waiting for you to make it clear he’d brought you in too, but he was never good at rubbing elbows.’

‘Brought me into what?’ Asher demanded. ‘What were you doing?’ If Olive thought witches were agents of the Fienta, then it wasn’t that, unless she had been involved in this strange magical world and thought there was a difference. it was impossible to say.

Navarre knew about it all.

Olive grinned. ‘Cute. You think you’re getting anything more than that.’

Asher gripped the rifle tight in his hand, his mind scrambling to find a way out of this. Running wasn’t an option. Even if he had two working legs, Olive’s pistols were definitely loaded. Olive clicked her tongue.

‘Put the gun down, Lieutenant. We’re not doing this tonight.’

‘You have no evidence,’ Asher’s argument was weak, he knew that. Even if she hadn’t seen the pillar of light – if it had been invisible to her – suspicion alone had hung plenty in the past. ‘You accuse me with bias.’

‘Bias?’ Olive echoed.

‘Any court you throw me at won’t see enough to accuse me,’ Asher pressed. ‘Let alone execute me.’

Olive laughed then, a harsh, manic sound. The rifle snapped up to Asher’s other arm, and in a blink, Olive had the pistol in her hand and had levelled it directly at his head.

‘You’re fascinating, you know that?’ she said. ‘Lieutenant. Before you turned thirty and everything. All that ambition and work, and you’ve thrown it away on fear.’

‘I am not about to abandon my post,’ Asher said.

‘You already have,’ Olive said. ‘Put the rifle down.’

Asher held the gun out to the side, then dropped it into the dirt. ‘You’re not going to shoot me.’

‘Oh, I am,’ Olive said. ‘But I’ll give you a choice because I like you. Do I shoot you in the head, or in the shoulder?’

The spirits scattered from the slaughterhouse then, plunging the room into shadow. The only light now came from a torch propped on the other side of the doorway that threw long, flickering shadows over the ground. Olive still levelled the pistol at his face, unaware.

A growl rumbled through the walls. Louder than the dog that still sat alert at his feet, louder than the explosion of flame outside, enough to shake the tools hanging from the roof with a dangerous clatter. Asher stumbled back in case any of them fell, and Olive flinched back herself, finally pulling the pistol away from his direction.

‘What is this?’ she demanded.

The growl became louder still, rumbling deeper and closer until it was a roar that swallowed the air. It came from everywhere at once, echoing around the station of death as though the building itself had come alive.

The side door shattered into shards of wood, bursting open and tearing the frame and the wall with it, sending splintered blades in every direction. Asher threw his arms up to shield his face, and saw only a flash of shadow before the spirits returned, climbing up the now dangling remains of the wall as white flame, eating away at the wood. In the middle of the mess, hackles raised and teeth bared, was the biggest wolf Asher had ever seen.

To call it a wolf wasn’t even true, this thing was a beast that might have shepherded giants in old times, standing as tall as the frame of the door used to be, and twice as wide. It’s bared fangs were as long as Asher’s forearms, and the eyes were large and fixed on him. Red burned behind the dark irises, a simmering fire of hot coals caught in the light and illuminating it’s whole face.

Not a wolf, a monster, and it was staring at him.

Olive snapped out of her own panicked stance first, aiming her pistol at the beast and clicking the lock down. The noise made the wolf’s head snap to the side, fixing on her, and the colour drained from her face. A low, menacing roar rumbled out from its mouth, and it lowered its front end as though to pounce.

‘Call it off,’ she ordered.

It took Asher a moment to realise she was talking to him. ‘I’m not doing this!’ he cried. Where was Penn?

‘Call it— shit.’ Olive fired her pistol, but the bullet bounced off the creature’s flank harmlessly. She swore again, then turned and dove out the door, disappearing around the side of the building.

The monster turned back to Asher. It lifted it’s front end, no longer ready to throw itself at him, but it took a step towards him. Asher stumbled back, then tripped as the dog knocked into the back of his legs, landing on his behind and sending a sharp pain through his tailbone.

The monster came forward, and Asher scrambled back, but the creature was on him in a blink, its breath hot and wet against his face, its breathing harsh. The dog bounced around behind him excitedly, barking at the bigger thing with forceful noises. All of Asher’s joints locked, his body freezing as the creature hung over him, it’s nose inches from his face.

It then leaned over and pushed that nose into Asher’s chest.

‘I found the wolf!’ Penn burst out from behind it, a grin spread across his face, flashing a sharp, toothy smile that seemed out of place with what Asher had seen before. Before Asher could say anything, he threw himself forward and wrapped his hands around the monster’s neck, burying himself in the thick fur of it’s mane.

‘That’s not a wolf.’ Asher’s voice escaped in a squeak.

Penn’s smile faded. ‘He’s not dangerous.’

The wolf leaned forward and pushed its nose into Asher’s chest, nudging him with enough force to wind him. Penn spoke in a low tone, fast and forceful, with the wolf backing away and leaning in as though to listen.

The creature backed up, then stood up. Raising itself onto it’s hind legs, it’s head rose high enough to brush against the ceiling. It then shrunk, growing smaller and smaller as its legs straightened, as it’s back sank in and haunches turned to shoulders. Asher stared as the features of it’s face pulled back into a human face. The man in it’s place had skin as black as the wolf’s fur, darker than any skin tone Asher had ever seen. He was still large, and his ears were pointed, sticking out past the back of his head. He had no hair and a large, hooked nose, but his eyes shone with the same red coals he had seen in the wolf’s eyes. The same shine Penn had.

He was also completely naked. Yet, he wasn’t built downstairs like a regular person. Tuffs of fur ran along his pelvic bones, meeting in the middle at a smooth curve of flesh. Still, heat flushed through Asher’s face. Flashers weren’t his usual problem causers.

The stranger who was now a man met Asher’s eye, unbothered by how exposed he was. ‘Hello,’ he said. ‘I didn’t mean to scare you.’

He had the same accent as Penn, but it wasn’t as thick, and the stresses on each syllable were smoother.

‘Th-that’s alright,’ Asher stammered.

The man held his hand out and leaned forward, then fell with the momentum, landing on his knees as Asher scrambled out of the way. He groaned, straining against the dirt. As Asher peeled his coat off to offer to him, he noticed how hot the man’s skin was burning. Did Nakati get fevers?

‘Something’s wrong,’ Penn said. He switched to his native language and spoke low and fast, while the new stranger nodded and brushed him away. He eased himself to his feet, but as Asher hooked an arm over his shoulder to help, the man collapsed again.

‘Are you hurt?’ Asher asked.

‘No, I don’t think so,’ the man said. ‘I can’t seem to find my strength.’

Asher couldn’t see any injuries, but he also didn’t want to stare too close. Penn shrugged his own cloak off and wrapped it around the stranger, still talking low and fast. They needed help. Maybe to Gershwin or Sara? No. He’d just been accused of witchcraft; he wasn’t about to drag that to their door. He wracked his mind for anywhere he could go, where would be safe until he could sort it out. If he could sort it out.

A horrible slimy feeling twisted through his stomach, the realisation of it all crashing down all at once. Olive accused him of witchcraft. She saw this as her evidence, and with her word against his… He would not hang. He needed to find a way to fix this.