First Witch's Tale

My eyes lingered on the bloodlines he had drawn. He was channelling his magic into the circle. I thought the thing was drawing on his power, using it to do … something. I had never heard of someone giving someone else his magic, although I didn’t see any reason why it couldn’t be done. The teachers had told us there were some things we wouldn’t be taught until we could be trusted to handle them, something I had found a little insulting before realising magic offered infinite danger as well as potential. It was all too easy, they had said, to accidentally kill yourself. Or someone else.

Cemburu’s hands moved jerkily, as if he wasn’t in complete control. I had barely a second to realise he was casting a spell before my body moved of its own accord, standing upright and walking into clearing. Another flash of panic ran through me as I came to a halt. I hadn’t known it was possible for one magician to control another, not like that. Cemburu or one of his goons would have had me doing their chores – or serving then in other ways - if they thought they could put me under their spell. My body felt as if it longer belonged to me. The thing seemed to smile, even though I couldn’t see any visible mouth - or anything.

“What?” Cemburu sounded as it was on the verge of panic himself. He hadn’t known I was there. He hadn’t even realised what his hands were doing. I wondered, suddenly, just which of them was actually in charge. There was no shortage of horror stories about idiots who had tried to make deals with the Awful Folk and discovered, too late, that they could be trusted to interpret the bargain in the worst possible way. “What is she doing here?”

I tried to speak, but my mouth refused to move. I was held firmly under his control. Or the thing’s control. I couldn’t tell which of them was casting the spell. I had thought it was him, but… I just didn’t know. The thing spoke in words I could not understand, its voice a buzzing horror that made me want to throw up. Just listening to the sound made me feel as if I had jumped right into a cesspit, covering myself in human waste. My body felt slimy and disgusting, my mind felt as if someone had taken a shit in my brain. The revulsion was so strong it weakened their control. I felt my limbs twitch and told them to be still. I was in no state to fight, not even againstCemburu alone. I had no idea what the thing could do. If it really was one of the Awful Folk …

The thing looked at me. I felt my mouth opening of its own accord.

“I followed you,” I heard myself say. “I was jealous of your progress and magical progress. I wanted to know how you did it. And I will now go back to the school and report you to your masters. They will kick you out without a second thought.”

I tried hard to shut my mouth. I hadn’t followed him because I was jealous … well, not very jealous. But instead … I saw horror wash over his face and knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the thing had made me say the worst possible thing. I wasn’t quite sure what he was doing, or why, but it was so far across the line that his expulsion - or worse - was a foregone conclusion.Cemburu would have to silence me permanently or risk being expelled. And yet … something nagged at my mind. The thing wouldn’t need to manipulate him if it could kill me itself. I found that oddly heartening. If it couldn’t get out of the circle …

Cemburu’s hands twisted. “But they’ll wonder what happened to her!”

I blinked in surprise. He was lying. No, he was trying to avoid admitting he didn’t want to kill me. Perhaps he was too cowardly to strike the killing blow or … perhaps he had limits. Everyone had their limits, I’ve been told, and perhaps he had finally discovered his. Or maybe he just thought there was no way he wouldn’t be questioned if I never returned to the castle. He wasn’t a very good liar. He wouldn’t be able to maintain his story if Bernard or Master Falladine interrogated him.

The thing spoke again, the words passing through my ears without comprehension. The feeling of being touched something utterly disgusting was quite bad enough. Cemburu reacted as if he had been struck, his body shaking as if someone had slapped him across the face. I wished I knew what the thing had said and yet I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. Perhaps it had called him a coward to his face. It was the easiest way for one boy to get another to do something stupid. I didn’t thinkCemburu was that different. And besides, he had a great deal to lose.