The Last Witch

Dawn light broke through the curtains, the only sign of time passing in the little room. Asher had taken his position next to the window again, while Penn kept silent vigil while Teka slept. There was still so much to do in terms of sorting all of this out, but all Asher could think about was Teka’s words. He wasn’t a witch. It was a relief to hear it from someone who knew magic as well as he seemed to, but there was also the added realisation that true witches – by the Nakati definition anyway – didn’t exist.

He wondered how many of them had been hung. How many had been witches, believed to be working for the opposite side, and how many had been innocent people. With how far back records had been erased, it wouldn’t have surprised Asher if there was nothing at all left of the truth of it. Where did that leave the rest of them?

If he were to become a real witch, he needed to step out of his world, literally, and the thought came with a deep rooted fear that dug it’s way deeper, a splinter that only sank further under the skin the more he scratched at it. Yet, the dust had been what saved him against those things, where nothing else worked. He couldn’t even control it. How could he make a decision when that dust covered everything and reacted to any seemingly random thing?

Maybe Olive had been right, and he deserved to be held accountable. Though, he would never work for the Fienta, not willingly or otherwise. The real question was whether it would take becoming a witch to stop them. That meant letting the spirits mark him, and whatever terrifying implication that carried.

It wasn’t like he had anything left to lose.

‘Teka is not well,’ Penn’s voice was a whisper, drifting up from where he sat next to the bed. Asher turned and saw the man was noticeably pale, his breathing soft but shallow.

Asher frowned. What could they do, even if Asher wasn’t a fugitive? Any doctor willing to look the other way probably wouldn’t know how to treat someone that wasn’t human. ‘What if he went back to Nakati and you didn’t? Is that possible?’

Penn shook his head. ‘Not strong enough. If you went, it would be dangerous. You didn’t…’ he stammered, struggling to find the word. ‘He tried and you fell over,’ he said instead. His features darkened. ‘I don’t know where any other Nakati would be.’

‘I could get the…’ Asher trailed off. No, he couldn’t get his hands on the other reports of animal attacks. Not while Olive insisted he was a witch. There had to be a way to prove he was innocent, but how could he honestly when he had used magic? The whole thing was a mess.

Asher strained to think of anyone who could help them right now. Lord Barque was out, and the Dalvany Captain and her lieutenants would be following the orders of Olive. Norrah… maybe, but she was stretched thin and her patience for him was already wearing out. Clyde and the other workers had told him to stay away. Evelyn maybe? With the right words, she’d be willing to hear him out, but it felt dirty and dishonest somehow. It felt wrong to drag her into the truth of all of this.

He turned back to the window, scanning the thin crowd scattered along the square below. He didn’t recognise any of the faces.

With what else he needed to do, he considered Sara and Gershwin. Gershwin couldn’t help them, with the Black Scroll, but Sara theoretically could, and he did need to talk to her about what really happened to Hadley. It felt twice as slimy as reaching out to Evelyn, after what they had done, but he was running out of options.

‘I… might know someone,’ Asher mumbled. When Penn perked up, he flinched. He’d apologise later. ‘Out on the farms, there were two women who knew about magic. They were the ones who fixed my leg, so maybe…’

‘They told you the word Sier?’ Penn asked.

Asher nodded. ‘One of them can see spirits.’

‘You ended up there?’ Penn asked. ‘In a ring?’

Asher nodded again. Before he could say anything, Penn tore across the room and out the door, his footsteps echoing out across the stairs, then nothing. Teka shifted, but stayed asleep.

Everything fell into a haze. Asher might have slept, but there was no way to tell how much time had passed when his brain snapped back to alertness. The sky outside was grey and cold, not showing any sun or light that told him how much time had passed. Teka slept the whole time, and Asher didn’t know what to do to help him, or if he could do anything.

Anxiety kept creeping up, the now familiar icy fingers running across the back of his neck, but he forced it down. Nothing would be fixed if he started panicking. He needed to be professional about this.

Was that even possible anymore?

Footsteps sounded long before Penn could get to the farms and back, and the anxiety turned to fear.

Asher struggled to his feet, leaning on the chair to keep his weight to his good leg. He needed to hide, but he couldn’t leave Teka. Maybe it would be alright as long as the man stayed asleep, but where would he hide? Who would come up here? Temperence maybe?

‘Asher?’ A familiar voice rang out from the stairs. ‘Asher, are you here?’

Asher paused. It was Sara.

She looked the same as he remembered, except her long, braided hair had been pulled up into a bun and she wore neater travellers clothes. Still, it was a shock to see her face again. Asher remembered all her warnings, how much it had seemed to hurt her, and a creeping, slimy shame worked its way through him.

‘Hi,’ he managed.

‘Hello,’ Sara said. ‘Your friend caught me on my way into town, and— oh!’ She recoiled at the sight of Teka on the bed. ‘Is that a Nakati?’

‘You know about the Nakati?’ Asher flinched as the words escaped; that had been a stupid question.

‘Of course,’ Sara said. ‘You’ve made friends fast.’

‘He needs help,’ Asher said. ‘I didn’t know who else to ask.’

‘Of course.’ Sara rushed over to the side of the bed, pressing the back of her hand against the man’s forehead. ‘Gershwin is better with the balms, but I can give him a few basics and see if that helps.’ She sighed, and her hand fell to her side. ‘I’d ask why he’s here, but things are getting worse, aren’t they?’

‘I don’t know about worse,’ Asher mumbled.

‘Your leg is going to get worse if you keep standing on it,’ Sara said. ‘Sit down.’

Asher dropped automatically into the seat next to the bed.

‘I don’t know what’s changing,’ Sara continued. ‘But everything is irritated and backwards. I can’t ignore the spirits like I usually do; they keep pulling me… somewhere.’

Temperence had said the same thing, that the spirits had pulled her out onto the street, where she’d eventually found him and Penn. ‘I don’t understand enough of it to tell you anything,’ Asher said. ‘All I know is that nothing’s pulling me.’

‘I told them no,’ Penn muttered. ‘You help me. They leave you alone.’

‘Oh.’ Asher didn’t know if that was a good thing or not. It meant he could continue looking into this without distractions at least. Though he couldn’t bring himself to talk to Sara about Hadley. The questions were on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t force them out. She was helping them, had helped him; it wasn’t right.

‘You’ve been digging, haven’t you?’ Sara asked.

Asher flinched, even though there wasn’t anything accusatory in her voice.

‘I told you to leave witchcraft alone.’ Sara said. ‘That it was more dangerous the more you learned. Just tell me you’re being careful, please.’

‘I’m trying,’ Asher mumbled. Anxiety spiked against the back of his head again. ‘I…’ What would happen if he told her what happened? Would it make her mad, or garner enough sympathy that the questions about Hadley wouldn’t hit so hard? He didn’t even know why he was hesitating. It was his job to ask questions. He’d asked hard ones before. Though, it had never been so personal before either.