» 12 – The Witch «

MARCHLANDS. WÙ-PAILOU.

Meilin can tell the barrow geist is savouring the fear of its prey.

Unbothered by the heavy rain, it paces, watching the group for the right moment. Its black form—almost parodic of a wolf—bristles with tension, while the lights set into its exposed skull remain fixated on the humans before it. Lightning flashes, casting it in stark shadow.

“Behind me,” June whispers, stepping forward while she raises her blade into a defensive stance.

“You’re going to fight it?” Meilin whispers back, unable to keep the fear out of her voice.

“No.” June doesn’t look back. “I’m going to hold it off until you get the portal open.”

“Me?” Meilin’s skin feels slick with sweat, even in this rain.

“You know some magic right? It’s not as hard as it looks.”

“I can’t—let me fight it. You open the portal.”

“With that limp, I—”

The barrow geist leaps forward and June’s next words are lost in the roar of thunder. Her sword swing strikes the monster, causing it to roll to the side to recover. Its thick fur burns but doesn’t bleed, the blade flashing off it as if it struck steel. The creature’s eyes burn, more flames than lights now, as it begins to circle June. The Guide keeps her distance, moving clockwise to mirror the beast.

Barrow geists always know the biggest threat. But if it kills June then—

Kyra’s hand touching her shoulder snaps Meilin out of her tunnel vision.

“Can you?” Kyra whispers.

Meilin’s mouth is dry. “I can try.”

She scrambles to her feet, Kyra and Ewan joining her on the raised platform soon after. The former’s mouth is a thin line of worry, while Ewan’s eyes are locked on the unfolding battle.

The barrow geist lunges forward again, June dodging to the side and bringing her sword up in another parry. The creature catches the sword in its mouth, throwing June and the weapon in opposite directions. She manages to jump forward and take hold of the sword, but not before the creature slashes her across the back. June cries out, her blood mingling with the mud and rain.

Meilin struggles to wrestle her guidebook out of her pack, hands slippery with rain and sweat. Some of the symbols she recognises. One means Portal; another is the stand-in for Earth. The other’s she scours the guidebook for.

As she looks, she hears the hissing growl of the barrow geist, June’s heavy breathing, dull thuds and flashes of thunder and lightning.

Cave? No, that one was Grotto.

And the other?

Master. No, that wasn’t right. Lord?

Light and flame flash as June strikes the barrow geist, thick gouts of black blood splattering across the ground.

Shepherd. The spell was Portal, Grotto, Shepherd, Earth.

“I’ve got it!” Meilin cries.

“Knew you would,” June grunts. “Open the portal, I’ll—”

The barrow geist bears down on her, jaw aimed at her throat. June parries with her sword, sweeping it around to cut through the creature’s skull—but it catches the blade of light in its teeth. Losing balance, June grabs the left side of the blade in a gloved hand, feet digging into the mud as the creature bears its weight down on her.

“Hurry!” she tells them through gritted teeth. “I’m right behind you.”

Meilin turns to face the torana, trying to gather the ambient magic of the Marchlands within herself. Her mother had always told her it was a natural thing, that even if all she could touch is wild magic, it should still be easy. But her mother spoke from her own experience, and Meilin wasn’t her mother.

Palm held out, Meilin desperately tries to find something to cling to as she approaches the gateway. For a moment it truly seems that nothing will happen—that nothing can happen—when Meilin feels her hand go flat against a wall. The air just beneath the torana is as hard as stone.

She licks her lips, desperate not to let the sensation go, to tumble forward.

“Portal. Grotto. Shepherd. Earth.”

She says the words aloud, but they feel meaningless.

“I—I can’t—”

Ewan takes her other hand, standing somewhere behind her.

“You can do it.”

She wants to laugh. How could he possibly know that?

But nonetheless, Meilin steadies her breathing and tries again.

“Portal. Grotto. Shepherd. Earth.”

The words tumble forth, somehow becoming more solid as Meilin repeats them.

“Portal. Grotto. Shepherd. Earth.”

The storm seems to somehow be getting louder, and Meilin finds herself screaming to be heard over the howling wind.

“Portal, Grotto, Shepherd, Earth. Portal, Grotto, Shepherd, Earth. Portal, Grotto, Shepherd, Earth—”

The air beneath the torana ripples like a stone dropped into still water, turning opaque, then revealing the image of some shaded place as seen through frosted glass. The storm is still raging, blocking out any other sound. Meilin wonders if she might faint.

Turning her head, unable to move her hand, she sees Kyra and Ewan looking towards June. The older woman must have said something, because they hesitantly plunge through the glass, disappearing onto the other side of the portal.

The world shakes, and Meilin distantly watches as June lets her sword dissipate into fireflies. She rolls to the side as she does, letting the barrow geist collapse forward. She staggers to her feet, racing towards Meilin. She seems to be saying something, but the words don’t carry over the howling wind. The barrow geist rights itself, chasing after June as she scales the steps, crashing into Meilin, throwing them both through the portal—

Everything is dark.

Then reality crashes back around Meilin, a return of sounds and feeling. She hits the ground hard, wincing as she and June strike stone. The magic breaks like a tether, the portal unravelling. But she can still see barrow geist too, lunging towards them on the other side of the glass—

The portal collapses, cutting the barrow geist clean in half. Its front half crashes to the ground at Meilin’s feet, already beginning to decompose into a noxious ink.

“—okay?”

She blinks. “Sorry?”

June lifts Meilin up slightly, so the two are in a sitting position. “I said, are you okay?”

Quite unsure of the answer to that question, Meilin takes a moment to survey their surroundings. They’re in some sort of manmade tunnel or grotto, sitting on a stone path running parallel to slow-moving water. A strange script, almost legible, is scrawled in a rainbow of colour across the grotto wall; the smells of civilisation and rainwater heavy in the air. With the portal gone, she can see bars in the distance blocking further passage, while light behind her indicates some sort of exit.

“I… I did it.” Meilin almost doesn’t believe it.

“You better believe it.” June grins, her teeth bloody. “Knew you had it in you.”

“Are you—?” Meilin realises she’s splattered with blood, none of it hers.

“I’ll need some stitches, but I’ll—I’ll live. I’ve survived worse.” June tries to laugh, but it comes out as wheezing.

“They’re down here!” Behind them, Meilin hears Kyra call out. “Thank god, you guys—oh shit.”

Kyra comes to a stop beside them, mouth agape at the amount of blood.

“We need to get her to a healer,” Meilin says.

“I—we could call an ambulance—”

June shakes her head. “Too hard to explain. There should be—”

Her face pales more than Meilin thought it could.

“Number in my wallet,” she manages. “Call Arjun.”

Then she falls forward against Meilin, limp, eyes out of focus.

Meilin is slow to react, still in shock, when Kyra appears beside them. She takes off her over-shirt, tying it around June’s chest to put pressure on the worst of her wounds.

“She—she said there was a number? In her wallet?” Meilin says helplessly, trying to will herself to move, every muscle in her body aching.

“Just apply pressure,” Kyra says softly, digging around in June’s pack. “I’ll find it.”

Blood is staining Kyra’s shirt, Meilin’s hands. She wills herself not to pass out.

She wills June not to die.

~***~