The Grey Witch - Part One

The Grey Witch arrives on the moors of the Blood Mountain. Her arrival will potentially herald the destruction of all life.

Grey Witch - Part One

Twenty years ago, a baby was taken from her grave to the caves under Blood Mountain. A creature breathed life into the corpse. She opened her eyes, saw the creatures face and screamed. The shape of a man appeared and tutted,

“Oh, for heavens sake, Ma.....”

The creature hissed,

“Joshua, never speak my name.”

The man began to fade from view and the creature sighed,

“I apologise. I want you to take care of this child. I need her to be ready by her twentieth re-birthday.”

“Yes master.” Joshua hesitated,

“Will she be told the truth about herself and you?”

The Master tightened his lips,

“I need to go now. Much preparation is needed. A storm is gathering.”

Joshua shook his head at the gurgling baby,

“Never answers a question he doesn't like.”

He smiled,

“Don't worry, sweetheart, you'll be fine with your Uncle Josh.”

* * * * *

Blood Mountain brooded over a desolate and vast expanse of mist covered moors. Any sound was strangled by the mist. In that place, days, nights and seasons merged to form a time without past or future. People in the village of Stoneway lived and died in the cold shadow of the Blood Mountain. 

One night in late winter, the sun having died only an hour since, there was a low rumble, quiet at first, growing steadily louder. An emaciated fox, looked up from its foraging, yelped and ran. A shock of lightening tore the grey sky apart and a round, battered mass of rock slammed into the ground, shattering as it landed. Fragments flew high and wide. The centre of the mass was white hot, cooling to red then black. Mist danced and hissed over the surface.

The rock cracked, fell apart. A figure stood and slowly walked out. It was a woman, thin, dressed only in a baggy dress. She shook as she watched the sky for a moment then looked around. In the distance she saw a faint, yellow glow and began to stagger toward it.

Shamus Grant was pissing into a roadside ditch, a dead rabbit lay on the ground by his feet. He heard a scuff behind him and turned to see a woman on her hands and knees in the road. Her legs bore scratches from the razor grass through which she had stumbled for half an hour. Grant fastened his trews hastily, hung the rabbit from his belt and walked over to her,

“Need help?”

Realised it was a stupid question and removed his threadbare cloak to place over her.

She raised her head and regarded him from stunning, grey eyes,

“Thank you, yes.”

Grant took her hand, pulled her to her feet. She smiled, wrapping the thin garment around herself,

“My name is Sara. You are?”

“Grant, Shamus Grant. My cottage is about ten minutes walk away. On the outskirts of Stoneway.”

He held her arm as they began to walk slowly down the road.

Shamus' cottage was basic but sturdily built, surrounded by a patch of land given over to growing vegetables and fruit. The ground floor was occupied by a kitchen. Fire flickered in a massive hearth, a wire grill sat above the flames. The only other light was from a lantern set on the far wall. A set of rickety stairs led to a shelf comprising a bed, storage cupboard and wooden bucket. Sara sniffed, the room smelled of parsley and thyme. The fainter odour of cooked meat and onion also hung there. Shamus showed the woman to one of two chair in front of a stone table. He slapped a rabbit onto the table, began skinning it. As he worked, he spoke to Sara. He seemed unused to visitors and was making the most of the opportunity to speak to anyone.

“Born and raised in Stoneway. Dad was a butcher and did some poaching at night.” he chuckled,

“We never went short of meat. Ma was a healer, she mixed plants, herbs and suchlike into medicines.” He sighed at a memory,

“If Ma couldn't cure it, it couldn't be cured.”

By then, the rabbit was jointed and placed on the cooking grill. Shamus placed an iron pot, filled with water next to the sizzling meat. He dropped potatoes and onions in. Sat at the table to wait for the food to cook and poured ale for them both.

While sipping the gingery brew, Sara glanced around at his meagre possessions. Above the hearth, there was a shelf. On the shelf, two objects. A dried lily in a simple wood frame and a crudely carved figurine. She asked Shamus,

“If you don't mind me asking. What are those?”

“Memories.”

Sara was silent. Shamus shifted on his seat,

“Had a wife, Maria, died twenty years ago, giving birth to Erin. The child died. The lily is for her.”

“The figure is for your wife, then?”

He stood, went to the fire to turn the rabbit and stir the vegetables. Turned,

“Maria believed in Malrod, the god under the Blood Mountain. She carved that figurine of him.”

Shamus shrugged,

“Personally, I had no time for it. I always thank the spirit of an animal when I kill it for food. But that's as far as I go.” He shook his head,

“I let the priest in Stoneways Spirit Temple worry about anything else.”

He sat down again,

“Food'll be another five minutes.”

Sara said,

“The figurine reminds you of Maria, then?”

The man replied,

“Malrod is said to take care of his worshippers. All of them.”

He brooded for a few minutes before he slammed his drink on the table making her jump.

“Food's ready.”

They ate in silence. Sara watched him sadly. Shamus was a simple man who lived off the land and bothered nobody. She sighed, yet he was already as good as dead. It was the way of things.

Reached a hand out to him and stroked the side of his face. Murmured,

“You are very alone, Shamus.” a statement not a question,

“Will you share your bed with me for one night?”

He nodded,

“But we should have a sip of buqa first.”

“Buqa?”

“A spirit drink. Distilled in Jorvik. Very intoxicating and very expensive. I keep it for special occasions.”

Shamus brought a bottle from the larder with two small tumblers. He splashed some buqa in the tumblers. They drank, Sara coughed,

“Hells teeth, Shamus.” He grinned at her,

“No more. Too much can damage your ability to stay awake.”

She took his hand and they climbed the stairs.

* * * * *

Two hours before sunrise, she woke, Shamus lying beside her, was still asleep. Sara swung quietly out of bed, walked to the storage cupboard. On one side, Shamus had kept his wife's clothes. Maria dressed quickly, blouson, leather gilet, skirt and sturdy boots. She walked to the bed. Kissed his cheek, hesitated then said,

“Believe me, Shamus. This is a mercy. You are a fine man. Join your wife and daughter now.”

She broke his neck. Looked up in the direction of the moors, was that a scream? Shrugged, probably a fox making a kill.

Sara descended, wrapped the remainder of the rabbit in cloth, tucked it into a pack. A canteen of water follows. Embers were still glowing in the hearth. The bottle of buqa was on the table. She returned to the bedroom, spilled some of the buqa on the dead man. Threw a lit taper on the bed

She left the cottage. Flames already licking out as the fire took hold. Once outside the gate, she looked to the sky,

“You designed us this way. You made us what we are. I hope you are proud. B******s.”

Sighed,

“My brother waits in Stoneway. I must go to him.”

Sara the Grey Witch turned towards Stoneway and began walking. A single, dark figure, silhouetted against the red and yellow flames of Shamus Grants decimated cottage

At the foot of Blood Mountain, a shape stirred then rose.

Author's Note

All feedback is welcomed.

Reviews

[Vic]

I like the changes you've made, it was easier to follow and invest in. There was one paragraph that stumbled a bit:

"Then (don't need then), there was a night in late winter, the sun had died only an hour since. A rumble, quiet at first, grew louder. (These sentences could be structured a little differently, perhaps: One winter night, barely an hour after sunset, there was a low rumble. It was quiet at first but steadily grew louder...)

[PaulB]

Thanks for the feedback, Vic. Some of it I agree with, some not. Point is, that all feedback is useful and I'll adjust with your comments in mind. Really appreciate you taking the time.

[The earth (Titan maphah..]

A job well done....... and a brilliant writer

[barleygirl]

I very much enjoy the unusual genre of your well-told tale. Your language & dialogue harken back to an "old tyme" stylistic approach, but the actual telling of the tale is clear & straightforward (not convoluted & hard to plow thru, like similar writing can be). Your conversational back-and-forth is realistic & in some spots surprising, which makes for some of the most interesting aspects of this piece. I love the originality of the surroundings, details like how the rabbit was hunted & cooked, etc. . . . all these give a rich imagery to the piece. My only slight drawback was the way this chapter starts off a little slow . . . quite deliberate & gradually told intro . . . and some readers may not be sufficiently drawn in at first. But by halfway thru, the chapter is definitely a compelling read. Definitely looking forward to reading upcoming chapters soon. I'm not usually willing to commit to a book-length piece becuz I want to be able to review a large number of writers on this website. But your first chapter is definitely good enuf to elicit a commitment from me to continue on . . . *smile*

[Vic]

I accidentally read part 2 first, and had a hard time following it. This one sheds some light on Erin's background. I personally prefer past tense for longer pieces. I find present tense likely to pull me out of the story as an observer rather than someone in the story, but you did a good job of keeping it consistent. Consistency is always good.

[PaulB]

Thanks for the feedback, Vic. I'm having a bit of a time posting up stories. I'll rename the stories to try and make them easier to follow. Present tense is new ground for me, I'm not entirely comfortable with it. I may decide to change to past tense, yet. Again, thanks for your comments.