A witchs calling, p.2
A Witch's Calling, page 2
part #4 of Anais Blue Series
Anaïs wiped water from her face with the palm of her hand and shivered involuntarily. She glanced at the Apothecary. Ella’s brow was furrowed deeply. In full concentration, her eyes focussed on the path ahead, the Apothecary bit her bottom lip.
The relatively smooth sides of the chasm became less so. Great boulders jutted out from the rocky walls. Although the waterway widened, the course along it was far from straightforward. It became an obstacle course. Rocks which had fallen into the stream created islands of destruction which had to be avoided at all costs.
Anaïs sucked in her breath. She eyed the speedboat’s chrome-plated hull. How strong is this thing? Glancing up, she watched the Apothecary’s erratic movements. Can Ella even cope with this?
The Apothecary tightened her grip on the Dreadnought’s wheel, her knuckles whitening. She wrenched the wheel from left to right, fighting to carve a course between the rocks. No longer a barrel-straight path which was relatively simple to negotiate, the river became a rapid-impeded causeway with tight curves and blind corners.
One such corner loomed before them. A sheer cliff wall—a dead end. Ella grabbed the accelerator lever and snapped it back towards her, throwing the craft into reverse. The motor roared. Behind Anaïs, the bristling pipes of the craft’s exhaust manifold spat out a massive plume of black smoke. The Dreadnought slowed, but not nearly enough to prevent them from being smashed to splinters if they collided with the rock face. Nothing could compete with the strong current which now pushed them down the mountain. The water flow was a force unto itself.
Anaïs threw up her arms, crossing them in front of her face and steeling herself for impact. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the continuation of the river. They were approaching a ninety-degree kink. Ella saw it too.
The Apothecary whipped the wheel to the right into a full lock position. The craft slewed sideways. Ploughing through the water it pushed a wave before it. This served as a buffer, preventing the vessel from dashing itself on the unyielding wall before them. Moments before contact, Ella drove her hand down hard on the accelerator, snapping it forward on the console and powering the boat towards the continuation of the river. As they barrelled alongside it, the hull made the slightest contact with the cliff face, emitting a tiny squeak as it did.
The terror of what had already been a scary ride increased exponentially. The river narrowed and widened without warning. The depth varied unpredictably too. At times, the hull bottomed out on rocks on the river bed, producing an ear-splitting screech. Drop-offs fell away beneath them, causing the craft to become airborne. They soared through the air after being launched from a medium-sized waterfall. Their flight was momentary as the boat swiftly responded to gravity. The impact as they crashed back down on the water’s hard surface took the wind out of Anaïs.
Sudden changes in the course of the river kept Ella constantly twitching from side to side in her seat. Anaïs watched her use her entire body to guide the craft. Occasionally, the channel suddenly forked, forcing Ella to make split-second decisions as to which way to go.
Where are we?
The promptuary had slipped onto the floor. Unable to reach it, and not daring to let go of her grip on the edge of her seat, Anaïs decided to forget about their destination. Survival was their primary concern.
This has to end somewhere!
As if on command, the waterway obliged.
The stone cliffs dropped in elevation. A thick line of trees replaced the stone walls. They hung over the causeway, creating a tunnel of foliage. The sudden overgrowth obscured her view of the path ahead. She felt the boat became airborne once more. They soared through the branches of the overhanging trees. Miraculously, they avoided hitting any of them.
In a flurry of leaves, snapping twigs and spray, they dropped several metres into a pond of surprisingly still water. The craft was brought to an almost instantaneous halt. As the nose of the Dreadnought ploughed into the pond, a great wave cascaded over the bow, soaking them all once again. Thrown forward, Anaïs slid from her seat to the floor, jarring her face on the rear of the front seat.
Ella, the only occupant not thrown forward due to her grip on the steering wheel, arched her spine over the backrest. She flexed her jarred wrists and slumped forward over the steering wheel. ‘I think I’m going to need a moment,’ she murmured.
‘No problem. I think we all do,’ said Anaïs as she climbed back onto her seat. She massaged her nose, which had taken the full brunt of the collision. Gingerly, she bent it from side to side, checking it was not broken. Satisfied no permanent damage had been done, she breathed a sigh of relief. She eyed the others.
‘Take all the time you need,’ she said.
THE CAVE
Ella had recovered from her exhausting ordeal and guided the boat slowly across the small patch of water. Above it, a canopy of trees blocked out the sky. At one end of the little lake was a sheer cliff face. Hidden in the folds of rock, they discovered a narrow crevice. As they motored down it, the walls and ceiling closed in, forming another tunnel. Once again, they were plunged into darkness.
Joan performed her trick of illumination. The light from the shade exposed the interior. Unlike the narrow tunnels they had previously experienced, they were now in a cave of generous proportions. Above them hung a forest of stalactites. Their sharp points hung menacingly over their heads. Hanging from the ceiling was a large colony of bats.
The pungent odour of bat guano permeated Anaïs’s nostrils. She scrunched up her nose. Retrieving it from the floor of the boat, she consulted her promptuary. ‘Show me where we are,’ Anaïs commanded the handbook.
As before, a holographic three-dimensional impression of the island materialised above the open pages. A purple star appeared, and the book homed in on it. As it zoomed in Anaïs caught a glimpse of the outline of Mount Etna and the congested streets of Catania. They were near a coastal town somewhere to the north of the city.
‘Where are we exactly?’ enquired Anaïs.
The map faded and a single word appeared on the open pages: TAORMINA.
‘And where is Immi?’
The letters faded, and the map reappeared. The promptuary zoomed out. A dot appeared to accompany the star representing their own position. The librarian was still in the city of Catania.
‘We’re still on the right track,’ said Anaïs. ‘Keep going, Ella.’ She closed the handbook and shoved it in her coat pocket.
As they continued along the waterway, the cave became more congested. Stalactites joined stalagmites, forming thick trees of limestone. With the motorboat’s engine set to idle, Ella threaded her way between the trunks of the petrified forest. The soft sound of the motor purring was virtually drowned out by the noise of constant dripping.
Anaïs had the feeling they were travelling down into the bowels of the Earth. Almost like being in the womb of a mother. The appearance of their surrounds was not dissimilar to the internals of a life form under a microscope. The rivulets of water running down the trunks looked like veins and arteries. They glistened in blue and red.
Joan let out a gasp and extinguished her light. ‘Désolé. Sorry,’ she panted, trying to catch her breath.
Anaïs patted her on the shoulder, then quickly retracted her hand. The icy contact was more intense than ever. ‘It’s okay, Joan. I understand.’ Her eyes swiftly adjusted to the lack of light.
‘Wow!’ Nan and the Apothecary gasped in unison. The stereo effect of the internal and external voices caused the little witch to screw up her face in disconcertion.
Anaïs joined them in surveying the cave. To her surprise the cavern supplied its own source of illumination. Millions of tiny pinpoints of light surrounded them, winking like stars in the night sky and reflecting off the water beneath them. It was as if they floated in space.
‘I must say,’ said Ella, breaking the silence, ‘you may be able to practise magic, Anaïs, but nothing beats nature’s magic.’
Anaïs smiled. ‘You're not kidding there, Ella.’
They exited the forest of limestone trunks. The cavern narrowed. A ledge formed on one side, jutting out from the cave wall. Eventually, the waterway tapered to a point where they could go no further.
‘End of the line,’ said Ella matter-of-factly.
They clambered out of the boat. With Anaïs leading the small party, they shuffled single-file along the ledge. It led to a corridor hewn from solid rock. Feeling around in the darkness, Anaïs ran her hands along the walls of the corridor. Its smooth sides were wet to the touch. Underfoot, Anaïs heard swishing as she slid her boots through a layer of water. The darkness was short-lived. As they moved onwards, thin shafts of light streamed from above through cracks in the rock, illuminating their way until it was barred by an oak door. The dark wood was rotten, apart from an emblem embedded into its surface. In contrast to the door, it was impervious to decay. Gleaming in gold was a brass star.
Anaïs ran her finger over its contours. She smirked. ‘Looks like we’re in the right place.’
‘Yes,’ said Ella. ‘This island is certainly full of surprises.’
‘I’ve gotten used to them,’ said Anaïs.
‘Well, what are we waiting for then?’ Ella nudged the witch. ‘Open the door.’
‘Getting used to surprises doesn’t mean I like them. Who knows what’s on the other side.’
Ella hunched her shoulders. ‘We can’t stay here.’
‘You’re right.’ Anaïs cranked the handle and pushed. The door did not yield. She set her weight against it. Still, it would not budge.
‘Maybe you need to pull it?’
Anaïs scratched her head. ‘Maybe.’ She turned the handle and pulled on the door. It opened easily.
‘Sometimes the solution is simpler than you think,’ said Ella, chuckling.
Anaïs grinned. ‘Yes, you’re right. I’ll make a mental note not to overthink things in the future.’
Ella laughed. ‘There’s not much to overthink with a door.’
Anaïs shook her head. ‘No, I guess there isn’t. Shall we?’
‘After you,’ said Ella with a sweep of her hand.
They filed through the doorway. The corridor continued. As they moved down it, Anaïs noted slots carved into the walls. Most were empty. Some held oblong boxes; others contained the torn remnants of cloth.
The further they went the more apparent it became exactly what the slots were for. Some of them contained corpses. They were in an underground burial chamber. Wrapped in shrouds, many seemed relatively well-preserved considering the damp conditions, appearing as if they had only recently been laid to rest.
‘This place is creepy,’ said Ella.
‘You’re telling me,’ replied the witch.
As they continued through the tomb a movement caught Anaïs’s eye. In one of the slots a burial shroud seemed to flap. Was it a breeze? She stopped and peered closely at the contents of the slot. She caught her breath.
The mummified remains of a young woman rolled towards her. Her face exposed, she opened her eyes. The look chilled Anaïs to the bone.
She choked on her breath before recovering. Avoiding the gaze of the mummy, she hissed at the others, ‘Let’s get out of here. Now!’
ENTOMBED
Anaïs led the way. She ran down the corridor with the rest in tow. The movement in the burial slots became frantic. The mummified dead tossed and turned in their beds. Some of them flung their arms out as Anaïs passed them by. She weaved, ducked and dodged to avoid them. But, even so, occasionally they made contact. The sharp, icy chill of thin fingers dragging over her arm shot through her entire body. This was a chill far stronger than what she had previously experienced with her shades. It froze her to the core.
She heard a yelp from behind her. She turned to see Ella caught in the clutches of a mummy. Anaïs ran back to her and brought her own arm down hard on the offending limb. The arm, more bone than flesh, dislocated from its owner’s shoulder. Hitting the stone floor, it clattered like dice dropping on a slate table.
Her eyes glazed over, frozen and rooted to the spot, the Apothecary’s entire body shook, shivering uncontrollably. Anaïs punched her on the bicep to snap her out of her daze. ‘Ella!’ she yelled at her.
The Apothecary’s pale complexion glowed in the dim light. She blinked and stared blankly at Anaïs. The little witch waved her hand in front of the Apothecary’s face. She snapped her fingers. ‘Ella! Look at me!’ She pointed at her own eyes, indicating to Ella that she should look into them. ‘Move!’
Ella’s half-hypnotic state faded. She nodded firmly. ‘Okay.’
Squeezing past Anaïs, she continued down the corridor. Behind them the shades followed. The mummies paid no attention to them, even retracting back into their slots as they moved along the corridor. Clearly, the dead were only interested in the living. Strange.
Anaïs felt something grappling at her foot. Looking down she saw the rotten fingers of the dislocated arm clawing at the toe of her boot. She shrank back in horror before gathering herself. Don’t be such a wuss! Pull yourself together!
She swung back a leg, took aim, and kicked the limb down the corridor past the shades. Joan and Nan dodged it. They pulled up beside her. Maybe keeping them close is better. At least they have some kind of defence. She cocked her head towards the Apothecary disappearing down the corridor. ‘Let’s keep going. Follow Ella.’
Anaïs did not wait for a reply. She spun on her heels. Next to her a mummy sat bolt-upright in its slot. It was very small. The shroud fell from its head exposing its face—the decomposing face of a small child. Anaïs gulped. The child opened its eyes. Eyes which were clear and bright, and seemingly very much alive. Filled with a mixture of pain and fear, they cut straight through the little witch.
Anaïs was mesmerised.
She felt drawn into the eyes. The rest of the room faded into mist. Anaïs saw only the eyes. Two penetrating orbs floating in black space. She no longer heard a sound—the constant drip of water faded to nothingness, replaced with a deafening silence.
An invisible force drew her closer. Anaïs fought the pull to no avail. It was far too strong. Involuntarily, she slid her foot across the floor. She took a step towards the child. Images filled her head: fire; explosions; a sea of wooden splinters and chips of rock flying through the air. Untold destruction prevailed. Anaïs stood at its very centre.
A noise broke the silence—a low howl rapidly turned into a long-drawn-out scream. A feeling of intense fear overcame her. The fear was not her own. It came from the child. She began to perspire. The sweat on her brow formed instantaneously. She felt its wetness under her collar. She had the oddest, unmistakable urge to strip off all her clothing. Panic set in.
Get me out of here!
The hot flush disappeared. It was replaced by an extreme chill, and her head felt as if it would burst. Her vision became obscured. She saw a flurry of snow, or was it a blizzard?—perhaps static on a television? A random thought wandered through her brain. What was the analogy to describe that again? A polar bear in a snow storm?
A fresh spike of freezing pain shot through her skull, cutting off the thought. ‘Ow!’
The calm, reassuring voice of her caretaker cut through the haze. ‘Anaïs? Are you all right?’
Anaïs closed her eyes—hard—screwing them into tiny balls. She tried to shake her head to clear it. She could not move it. She snapped her eyes open. Nan’s face swam into view, her hand upon the witch’s head. Anaïs brushed it away. She grasped her skull.
‘Ow!’ she cried again.
‘What?’ enquired Nan.
‘Brain freeze.’
‘Oops! Sorry about that.’
‘No problem, Nan,’ said Anaïs, massaging her head through her beret. ‘It worked.’
‘You were totally out there. What happened?’
‘It happened.’ Anaïs nodded at the mummified child. She glanced sideways at it, not daring to look it in the eye. The child sat in the same position, staring at her. It appeared to be in a trance as much as Anaïs had been. The little witch averted her eyes. She cleared her throat loudly. ‘Freaky stuff.’
She reassured herself. Maybe being a wuss is not such a bad thing. She surveyed the corridor. A mummy stirred in every available slot. Strangely, even those which had previously been empty. What the heck is going on here? Shades don’t do this. She glanced at Nan. ‘Let’s get out of here quick. This place is creeping me out.’
Cupping her hands around her eye sockets to avoid looking at the mummies, she set off down the corridor. She called out to the Apothecary, ‘Ella! Are you still there?’
Anaïs heard her distant call. She continued towards it. Ella responded again, her voice louder now. ‘I think I’ve found a way out.’
Between panting for breath, Anaïs managed a sigh. Thank goodness!
THE EYES HAVE IT
Eyes are a dead giveaway. You can’t hide behind them, even if you exist in another realm. The eye is also supposedly the gateway to the soul. In the case of shades it is the only part of their true appearance that their camouflage does not hide.
Shades often give naturals ‘the eye’ but most don’t respond. People rarely look deeply into each other’s eyes unless they want something themselves.
Eye contact is the basis of all direct connections. It can convey all kinds of things: from love to boredom to rage. It is the only infallible way to tell if someone is really paying attention. The dead are no exception.
They are constantly on the lookout for someone or something which will respond to them. However, fixing someone with a penetrating stare is usually pointless. It drives them away. People will just think you’re strange. And staring is impolite.
Under most circumstances, having your eyes exposed is of no benefit at all. People cannot read thoughts anyway. Unless, of course, they have had a certain degree of witch training. And, as in the case with shade camouflage, without any added facial expression the message will invariably get lost.
