Let the Darkness In

Grasping his sister’s hand, they began to run. At that moment, the goblin lurched forward. A hunched and wizened creature. His bandy legs seemed too thin to support his bulging, slimy torso but they carried him forward with surprising speed. Skopora turned his head to look at their pursuer.

He gasped, causing his sister to turn around. My eardrums nearly burst under the power of the scream that followed. The goblin was cackling as he sped toward them. I darted out of my cage, trying to keep up with the trio and stumbling awkwardly over my foot. Placing my hand on a bark as I half stumbled, half gripped it, I sent out a pulse. I could feel the hollow wave as it sped through the forest.

With a wail, the little girl tripped and went sprawling. Their pursuer used their hesitation to his advantage and put on a burst of speed. Just as he came at their heels, snapping and drooling in anticipation, a bellow sounded to his left. A streak of brown came hurtling from the foliage. Antlers lowered, the stag threw the goblin into the air. It flew a hundred paces and smacked down onto a rock. His head connected and he lay still. The kereni turned to me, and dipped his head. I bowed down to him, thanking him for answering my call. With a skip, he bounded away.

My attention turned back to the children who were growing ever smaller. Wiping the sweat off my forehead and taking a deep breath, I lurched off after them. Sharp twinges shot up and down my leg but I wouldn’t lose them - not this time. As long as they were in my sights, no matter how near or far, then they would lead me to freedom.

It felt like time suspended as I followed the tiny humans but finally, just as my lungs were about to give up completely, the forest thinned. For the first time in sixteen years, my foot crossed the boundary. I felt it with a jolt that thrummed through my body.

A ramshackle huddle of roofs with smoke pouring out of the top lay in at the bottom of the hill before me. The village was walled by a large ring of wooden planks, and a single gate leading in and out. Right now, it lay tantalizingly open, allowing a stream of people to come and go. My heart swelled at the sight of so many and the opportunity this could bring.

I could easily walk through those gates…were it not for my birthmark. And my foot….

Today, the village was open but I knew this was not the right moment. I would have to think of a way.

As I turned homewards, instinctively knowing where our little hut lay, my mind worked furiously. If I were to go in now as I was, there was no telling how these people would react. They needed normal.

Back on familiar ground, my pace slowed and I ambled under blue, crisp skies. Leaves crunched under my feet. How to get in? There were no guards but my own body would betray me.

My eyes fell on the wooden splint propped into the corner. I bared my teeth at it, wishing that I had snapped it long ago..or maybe...when I wore that splint, I stood straighter. From the fireplace to my bed, it seemed to do the trick. I hadn’t walked in it far and often in the mornings, I would wake up with my ankle swollen.

For the first time, I saw the splint for what it was.

It wouldn’t be so easy with the birthmark. No amount of scrubbing, scalding, lotions or potions would get the damn thing off. My eyes well on the cloak hanging by the door.

“How was your day?” I asked Ysymay when she returned that evening.

“Long,” she groaned, sinking down beside the fireplace where I had set a stew going. I sloshed some of the thin liquid complete with fatty lumps into a bowl and handed it to her. She nodded her thanks and tucked in. I knew she was tired because there was no comment about my poor cooking skills. I was good with plants, not food.

As she slumped by the fire, I rested by her knees, letting her pull the comb through my hair. Her actions grew slower and more lethargic. Standing up, I took her hand, gently pulling her up. Guiding her to her sleeping palette, I laid her down where she instantly started snoring.

I hardly slept that night, kept awake by my thoughts whizzing and buzzing inside my head. When dawn came, I shot up like an arrow. My body was still shaking off sleep but my mind was ready. Instead of joyfully throwing off the splint as I had so many mornings, I kept it firmly clamped around my foot. I pulled on Ysymay’s battered cloak, grabbed her basket and chucked a few random things into it. Making sure my face was well hidden, I skipped out of the cottage.

Today, I didn’t need to follow anyone to find my way back to that village. Hesitating for only the briefest of moments, I made my way down the hill quickly, trying to blend in. I strode as best as I could towards the gate. Every hair on my neck startled to prickle, as I imagined hundreds of eyes upon me. I half expected a hand to grasp my wrist and expose me. Were people looking at me differently?

For all my fears, I passed through the gate unmolested.

The bustle of people, the smell of human bodies and fresh roasting meat, and the feel of people pushing past all exploded in a cacophony around me. My knuckles were white as I gripped the basket.

I lurched forward as a hefty knock sent me stumbling. White heat seared through my leg.

“Sorry miss,” a middle-aged woman clutching a young child was by my side.

I mumbled a semblance of forgiveness. An agonizing moment padded as she looked at me. I fought back the urge to stumble backward. The moment passed and she was gone, swallowed up in the crowds.

I found myself being funneled with them towards something. Looking around, I saw baskets, bags, and boxes. Some people even were carrying bolts of cloth and sturdy sticks. This crowd was moving with a purpose and I intended to join them. Trying to stick to the outer edges of the throng, I moved with them, catching snatches of conversation.

“Remember Leofric, the first price isn’t always the only price,” a sharp-faced woman was snapping at the man beside her. The man looked like he was caving in from the tirade. I snorted with amusement, glad I was free of what people called ‘love’.

Small children were firmly held by their parents, some on their shoulders, others being carried around the front. I observed a few of the older children moving silently amongst the crowds, digging in people’s bags and pockets. Many remained empty-handed, a fact that hardly surprised me, given most of these people were streaked in dirt, emaciated and in clothes that had seen better days. Some were catching the children in the act, delivering cuffs around the head or a boot up the backside.

Finally, the channel opened up into a large grassy space set amongst the cluster of round huts. Tables littered the space, along with carts laden with produce. I spied a collection of rickety pens at the back where disgruntled sheep, pigs and even a tired-looking horse were tied.

With a yell, the people around me exploded en masse, charging towards wide-eyed stallholders. People were clawing at faded cloths, vegetables that had been plucked from the earth, and rusty tools.

“Here, I have a chicken!” An alarmed chicken was being thrust towards a man surrounded by powdery sacks of flour. He looked the animal up and down before nodding. Snatching it, he threw a much smaller sack of floor at the barterer.

Scenes like this were at every stall - some, more than others, were looking for a fight. I kept well away from stampeding customers who were stuffing everything and anything into their baskets. Roars sounded as the less unsavory characters were caught red-handed, loaves of bread in their pockets in their hand.

I felt a tug on my sleeve. An elderly woman with a crooked back and a bulging sack on her back was pointing at my covered basket. My stomach felt hollow. “What’s in there?”

Her beady eyes moved over the cloth that covered the contents. Moving the basket to my other hand I told her it was not for sale.

Her eyes narrowed and her stick came around to rap me on the shin. “It’s not for sale,” I repeated, louder now and trying to move away. Her hand clamped down on my wrists, and her face changed; her eyes were dark and her lips bared in a snarl. A few rotted stumps constituted teeth and a wash of foul breath flooded over me.

This was enough. I had only come to the village out of curiosity. “Let me go!” my voice had now risen to a shout. Fire was surging through my veins and my heart was pumping. I shoved the woman off me, not a violent push, but a short, sharp movement that sent her stumbling back. For a split second, her feet righted themselves but in that second, her eyes flashed and a sly grin spread over her features. She threw herself down on the ground with an ear-splitting scream and her stick flew away.

Scoffing, I began to hobble away but a hand caught me again. Thinking the woman had risen up, I swung around, this time my hand balled into a fist. This time it was caught mid-swing. I was staring into a sallow, bearded face. A pair of watery green eyes looked into mine.

“Don’t you go hitting old women and think you can get away with it,” he muttered quietly. I tore my wrist free.

“She isn’t hurt, she fell deliberately. Besides, she was trying to steal from me,” I snapped, once again drawing my basket closer.

“Oh ay and where did that basket come from?” His eyes had taken on the same shine and his hand was starting towards Ysymay’s potions.

“Hands off,” I snarled. By now, a small crowd had gathered around us. The old woman had been eased onto her feet by some sympathetic members of the crowd but the rest looked like they were baying for blood.

“She’s stolen those goods, I’m sure of it it.” The woman seemed to have miraculously recovered from her tumble and was now pointing the finger.

That was it.

I started to walk quickly away but heard a shout behind me and a heavy footfall. My instincts kicked in and I began to hobble. Glancing over my shoulder I could see two men striding behind me. They knew I was easy prey so I began to run. The pain in my foot became agonising, bringing tears to my eyes. The splint was groaning and creaking, not used to this activity. I searched for life, calling on my friends to help me, but the only wood and grass that remained in this sorry village had long since died or given up.

With every step I could feel the wood of my splint straining to keep it together and then in a moment, it disintegrated. Shards of wood went flying and my foot, no longer supported, twisted sideways with a crunch. A wave of blackness came over me and I crashed to the floor.

Sobs racked my body as I tried to scramble up but it was too late. My captors had placed their arms around me and were hauling me up. As they righted me, my hood fell back and a gasp rang out. I hung my head, my knotted hair hanging in tendrils around my face.

A rough hand tilted my chin up and pushed the hair away. I could hear hisses and muttering, even hearing the sounds of prayers or charms.

“Witch.”

“Demon.

Ysymay had been right. Why did I never listen?