The Witch of Jerfallen

She kissed him goodbye, her lips lingering as long as she dared. For she knew he would not remember her tomorrow. Nor should he.

No, Kara couldn’t take that risk.

Stroking his forehead with her fingertips, she wiped away the tear she’d left on his brow. Then she turned off the gas, and removed the mask from his mouth, hiding it carefully in the cupboard, behind the new box of laundry soap and the sprays for removing stains and wrinkles.

There were so many stains and wrinkles in Kara’s life. And Ted was one of them. Not that he should have been. It wasn’t his fault.

Straightening her shirt and checking her buttons were done up correctly, she squared her shoulders. Quiet as air, she walked out the back door and up the handful of steps, looking to any who would see her as if she surely belonged there, and should be doing just that.

The scarf around her neck blew like a pair of banners behind her as she made her way through the autumn streets. Leaves caught in a zephyr floated past her, dragging dust eagerly behind them. Yes, that’s why her eyes stung and her vision was misted. Obviously. Why would there be any other reason?

The twists and turns of Jerfallen were infamous. Tourists came specially to play elaborate games of hide-and-seek on the streets. Drink-gorged stag parties and hen nights were known to strip the about-to-be-married and leave them blindfolded, hands bound with Jerfallen’s legendary Timed-Rope to the Central Stake, from which every road and every pathway in the city extended. With the right phrases spoken as the knots were tied, the rope could be set to release its victims at a given time.

Kara had heard that the quickest any of the inebriated – whether those who had been doing the tying or those who had been tied – had ever made their way through the maze of lanes, jitties and bridges back to the city gates was four hours. The longest? Well, no one ever found out what happened to him, now, did they?

Kara turned down the last twist, her brow crinkling as her brain rehearsed her excuse. It was a good thing she had a vivid imagination. If anyone needed it, she did. Her hand paused, resting on the latch, and she wished her life could be anything but what it was.

“Kara, where’ya been, chick?” came the screech from inside.

“Coming, mather.” Sweetness oozed from her throat. Oh, Kara was a good actress. Lifting her chin, in she went, spouting her well-practiced story about her day.

“Did you find any, then?” came the only response.

“No, they were all out, sorry,” Kara said. “I’ll try again in the morning. If you would have the red apples, it would be a lot easier, you know.”

“I’ve never eaten a red apple in my life,” her mather declared, “and I’m not going to start now. Blue apples – that’s what I want. I will eat no other kind.”

“I’ll try again tomorrow, then. Now, let me help you to bed.”

“That would be lovely, dear,” her mather said, her voice beginning to wobble. “You are such a good daughter to me. Always thinking about me. Always looking after me.” She reached a gnarled hand up to stroke her daughter’s cheek. “What would I ever do without you?”

Kara could think of a thousand and seven things she could do without her mather. But that would get her nowhere. Instead, she took the spellbook from her mather’s lap, closed it carefully and slid it onto the bookshelf next to the eight others in various states of disrepair. There had been fourteen a few months ago. One by one, little by little, the shelf had somehow become less crowded. The book she’d just replaced had fewer pages than it used to. At least Mather hadn’t noticed.

Being the only child of the City Witch was a dangerous role to play when your mather’s mind had begun to meander, twisting and turning as surely as the streets of the city she protected.

Mather took the arm Kara proffered, and was willingly led up the stairs. At the top, her mather turned, her finger pointing, nearly taking a slice out of her daughter’s nose with a ragged nail.

“There can be no one else. You are mine. Until my body decomposes and you turn my bones into Witches Broth to feed my replacement. Oh, I see that look in your eye, chick. It won’t be tonight. I promise you that.” And she began to laugh. Not a pleasant laugh. One of those laughs that you wished you had never heard. Ever.

Hiding her shaking hands, Kara added her own laugh, forcing it from her lips, praying the façade was convincing.

“Come, Mather, I haven’t forgotten. Let’s get your aged bones to bed, then.” She added a smile, willing it up to her eyes.

Darkness seeped through the windows as the old witch’s snores pursued Kara down the steps like an icy draught. With the fire crackling away, the mutterings of the worn spellbooks drew her. The shelf emptied, the candle guttered and the fire spat while Kara’s fingers perused the pages. She tore out a few more – the ones that looked the most dangerous in her mather’s mental state – and spoke their words as she consigned them to the fire.

Flames burst forth, licking briefly up the walls as they consumed the ancient magic. Spells that had been used generation upon generation by the City Witches were now nothing but a vague memory in her mather’s confused mind.

Of course, she knew every one she burnt had already been burnt into her own soul. Mather had made sure of that. From the moment she’d been taken from her cradle, Mather had begun her work. And she was an expert at what she did. Which is why she’d been proclaimed the City Witch when her predecessor had died. The previous witch’s daughter had ground up her bones to feed the Witches Broth to Kara’s mather. And Mather was determined that Kara would be the next. Every page of every book that had ever left a decayed mark on that shelf had been pronounced over Kara’s life.

As the paper and ink turned to ash, their words echoing in her soul became motes of dust. Another day, and she might be able to reduce the library again. And there would be one volume less that bound her to the city. No, her own bindings weren’t of Timed-Rope. The clock ticked away far too quickly, its hands racing around the numbers, counting down the hours and minutes until it was too late, and her hope joined the motes and ash as it flew up the chimney. She only had until the old witch died until her fate was sealed.

She might have limited control of her own fate, but Kara would make sure it affected no others. It would stop with her.

Exhausted by her labours, Kara laid herself before the fire, watching the colours change as the spells were eaten, both before her and within her.

Her mather’s usual morning shriek awakened her. Once she’d helped her through her ablutions, Kara eased her back down the stairs and into her chair.

“Which book would you like today, Mather?”

“Book? Why do I want a book? I have every spell I’ve every needed stored right here.” She smiled – well, half Mather’s mouth smiled, anyway – as she pointed first at her own head, and then at Kara.

“But you have so many things in that head of yours, Mather, that they do get a little muddled up these days. Best you have a book to read through, I think. Here, how about this one?”

Kara pulled the one off the shelf which held the least powerful of the spells. Mostly the ones which would protect the boundaries of Jerfallen – those were the most important, after all. And the least dangerous if they went wrong.

Mather hissed with delight. “Oh, this one looks interesting. Is this a new one? Oh, thank you, child. You are so thoughtful. You are so good to me.”

“Of course I am, Mather. Now, I’ll just go and look for those apples you wanted.”

“Blue apples,” she shouted after her. “Not red – I want blue apples. Don’t forget!”

“I won’t forget, I promise!”

And Kara flounced through the door, throwing her scarf around her neck as she did. Well, it was more than a scarf at the moment, for the magic woven into it made it act as a cloak unless Kara commanded it not to. With the bitterness of the wind that ran its fingers through her hair as she stepped out onto the cobblestones, she didn’t think she would be doing that for a while, today.

Now, where would she find blue apples?

There was only one place. She knew there was only one place. Yet every morning, she tried every other possible place first.

Exploring the streets of Jerfallen, Kara found herself at the city walls. She wandered towards the gates, now flung wide as the day had begun. Feet rooted just inside the gates, her mind followed the crowds as they wandered out into the countryside. Carriages pushed their way through the throng, containing packages and passengers within their gilt wooden frames to destinations Kara could only dream of.

For neither feet nor carriage could carry her from those walls. The familiar tug reminded her yet again of that fact. The tug she’d felt her whole life. She was tied to that house. To those books. To that fire. To that woman who called herself her mather, but who had actually stolen her from her real mather and father. All those words, spoken over her before that fire, had driven her into the fabric of the city as surely as the Stake that marked the centre of it.

The walls of Jerfallen were her prison and Mather’s spells were the rope that bound her there, thread by thread. Unless….

She lifted her cloak to hide the world outside from her eyes. If only the yearning for it could be hidden from her heart as easily.

~~~

Ted Marky wheeled his barrow along the road. The city gate was usually the best place for business this time of day. All the travellers would want to buy some fruit – his fruit, in particular. For no one else in the city – or anywhere in a hundred miles, for all he knew – sold what he sold.

His wares covered to keep them safe from prying eyes, he parked his cart in a good place. There was a bit of sun now, which would keep him warm. But before the heat built as the day progressed, he’d be in the shade. And his apples needed protection. A few times, he’d parked himself outside the gates, but the weather was too intense, and the fruit had quickly spoiled. No, the shade inside the walls was better.

Blue apples were a delicacy. Ripe for one day only, the small orchard in his garden provided him a daily supply. For once picked, the stem would instantly flower, and by the next morning, a new fruit hung in its place, ripe and ready to pluck. And sell. Magic, some called it, and wouldn’t touch them. Others called it magic and would sell their soul to buy them.

Ted? He was careful. He plucked, and sold, and pocketed the money to buy food for his parents and two sisters. No, he knew better than to eat the blue fruits he sold. Ted was no meddler in magic, whether real or supposed.

A woman across the road seemed to be hiding her face from him. She must be new to Jerfallen. He didn’t recognize her, and he knew nearly everyone in the city, after all. His Uncle was the taxman, and before his father had lost the use of his legs, he had been the taxman’s assistant. He’d hoped Ted would work his way up to step into his shoes.

But then they’d discovered the power of the fruit that grew in their garden. The power to earn a living. What the things actually did, Ted didn’t know, nor did he care. That was for others to worry about. He was just keeping his family fed.

That woman, though. There was something about her.

Ted tore his eyes away from her, and pulled the cover off his barrow with a flourish.

“Freshly picked blue apples! Get them here! Blue apples – only place in a century of miles you’ll find them! One hundred florins each! Come now, get your blue apples!”

His hawking voice was enticing, honed and perfected over the last year or so. Ted knew just how to pitch it. And once he had people’s attention, the fruit did the selling itself.

As it did now. For the mysterious woman across the road turned towards him. Her eyes lingered on his cart hungrily.

“You want some of these lovely blue apples, my dear!” he called out to her. “I know you do! Come on over and take a look!”

She turned from him and hurried away. Was he losing his touch? Something inside Ted twisted like the tangled branches of the tree overhead.

He brushed his reaction away. She was just a woman. There were plenty more to buy his fruit.

It was a good day, with all the travellers. Midday came, and most of his apples had gone. Three more happy customers came and went, and Ted stroked his pocket. With what it now contained, he would buy a good meal for his family that night. There were just two apples left.

The mysterious woman appeared again, wearing a scarf instead of a cloak this time. The scarf caught the wind, flying behind her like the leaves of a willow as the breeze whirled around her.

He called out to her. “Madam, I saw you admiring these earlier. You’re in luck – I have two left, just for you! Come, take a look!”

Her eyes gave his a glancing blow before turning down to his cart. How he longed for them to turn themselves up again to meet his own.

What was he thinking?! He beat down the churning inside of him and painted on his best smile.

“See? Two perfect specimens, almost as perfect as you, my dear!”

He clamped his hand over his lips! Why had that come from his mouth? Oh, he’d embarrassed himself royally this time.

But … she didn’t turn away. In fact, she came closer. Hesitantly, but decidedly closer. Perhaps he’d charmed her.

“How much?” she asked, determined to keep her eyes down.

“One hundred florins each,” he informed her. “And you won’t find the like anywhere else, I can guarantee it. Special properties, these beauties,” he added with a wink.

“Oh, I know all about their properties,” she said. “I’ll take them both.” She drew a little purse out of her pocket and deposited two hundred florins into his outstretched hand.

Her fingertips brushed his palm briefly. His eyes jerked upwards.

“Kara?” he whispered. “It’s you.”

The face before him crumpled, her lips quivering as she strained to keep them straight. He stepped around his cart to pull her into his arms.

“Oh, how I’ve missed you! It’s been so long, my darling. So very long! Where have you been?”

“Here and there,” she told him. “Busy caring for my mather.”

An idea blew into his head. One he was sure he had never considered. Yet, so easily it came. Why hadn’t he thought of it before?

“We could go, you know. With the money in my pocket, we could go anywhere. We could be together. Always. Please Kara. We could get the sunset coach, and be in the capital by morning. No one would find us. My mather could take on selling these, and you and I – we could have a life together somewhere else.”

The resolve she had donned as he spoke faltered at those last words. Visibly shaken, she at last turned her eyes back to his. Blue eyes so dark, flecked with sparks, that staring into them was like falling into the night sky.

“Please Kara. Please. At least come home with me tonight.”

“It’s so hard to say no to you, Ted Marky.” Her velvety voice matched her eyes, full of darkness and sparkle.

Pocketing her two apples, she walked beside him as he threw the cover over the cart and wrangled it through the crowds back to his house. She opened the gate, and he pushed the cart under the awning. The five trees were again laden with fruit. Red still. But they’d ripen by morning, as they always did.

He led her down the back steps into the cellar, where they spent several hours plotting and planning their escape.

“One more night,” she told him. “I need one more night to make sure my mather is safe. Tomorrow. I promise.”

“Tomorrow, then. The early coach, though. I can’t wait another whole day. I’ve waited for so long, now, my darling Kara. So very long.”

“I know. Tomorrow.”

Laying down on the mattress beside him she kissed him long. He held her in his arms, savouring her presence. The woman who held his heart would be his. Tomorrow. At last!

~~~

She’d done it again. Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid!

At least she had two apples, not just one this time.

When he wasn’t looking, her teeth cut the blue flesh, hiding the morsel under her tongue. Then she pressed her lips against his. Hard. Long. Pouring all her love and desire into him, praying that he felt it. Because she meant it. Oh, how she meant it!

The bite of apple transferred and swallowed, his breath began to slow. And she lay next to him, her fingers tracing the loop of eternal love on his chest. Then it burst forth, the dam that held her longing shredding as she wept over him.

Again.

Kara had lost count how many promises she’d broken. It was always tomorrow. Always. It could never be today.

For she would never leave the city. Her mather had seen to that. And if Mather knew about Ted, then Ted’s bones would be ground and scattered at the next Longest Night to protect Jerfallen from the invaders –invaders that no longer existed except in the nightmares her magic conjured as the city slept. The dreams that kept the people of Jerfallen demanding to have a City Witch.

Retrieving the mask from its hiding place, Kara unscrewed the lid to the gas tank and dropped into it the apple she’d bitten. She tightened it as quickly as she could, storing its power safely inside. If she was careful, that blue apple should create enough gas for second visit. For the next time that she couldn’t resist his touch.

At least she had a second blue apple to give Mather tonight. Perhaps it would finally be enough for her to finish.

Ever so tenderly, Kara placed the mask over that beautiful mouth, sealing them as surely as her own lips had a moment before. She chanted over him the words of the forgetting spell, allowing the gas to lock the magic into him yet again. One day, the spell might actually stick forever. A tremor worked its way up through her body at that thought. No, once was enough. Kara didn’t dare repeat those words again tonight. She couldn’t take that risk. Not yet.

Her fingers fumbled over the spicket, turning off the gas before it took her words further than her selfish heart would allow. After wiping away her grief, she removed the mask from his mouth, hiding it carefully behind the cleaning products in the cupboard once more.

Besides Mather, there were so many stains and wrinkles in Kara’s life. And Ted was one of them. The hardest one to resist.

Her work complete, she kissed him goodbye, lingering there as long as she dared. For she knew he would not remember her tomorrow.