Misfit Chapter 9
Dead Space
Witch was self-centered by nature, and thirsted for attention and approval as most budding adolescents do. She had developed as a child a constant, vigilant observance of those who could feed this desire, in order to manipulate the factors that would put her in their good graces the fastest.
What she had observed at the fair at the seaside was alarming- Master, whom she had idolized and worshiped for so long was to be absolutely avoided. He was, in reality, bad. Her pristine mental ideal of a kind, gentle Master was permanently besmirched. This was not the first instance of this secret evil- she had long since come to know the corruption of adults- but it was certainly the most shattering.
She skitters around Master and ignores Wizard altogether. The taste of bile rises in her throat when she has to associate with them in class- at night, her candle burns far longer than Wizard's.
Witch studies teleportation, healing, and most exhaustively, dark magic, and destroys her personal journals, taking care to totally remove any proof of their existence. She can't forget the mournful note in the cries of that awful mutant monster as it bled out on the stage, as it ceased to be a physical being and became just another gruesome ingredient in a malevolent and complicated dark ritual. The savagery in the eyes of the greatest and wisest of her community, the strong and the reliable watching with such evident pleasure the quick ooze of dark blood from an innocent life- it had disturbed her to such a degree that she begins to think seriously about defecting.
Her magic research, which she had had no interest in before, blooms until it sucks her free time dry- Master notices. She keeps rolls of vellum that document her projects and their potential uses down to the most miniscule, microscopic detail.
She works as hard as Wizard, then harder, but in secret. It was of utmost importance to skirt around Master and avoid his attention. Wizard has tried to confront her, but stops after the first few times. He has other things going on, and can't honestly be too upset about the abrupt halt in her efforts at sabotaging his experiments, the glares, insults, beatings.
He complains more and more of headaches- one constant pain that ebbs and flows, but does not cease.
One day Master finds her in the library, poring over maps.
He leans over her so that his beard (which has burst forth in the last two months, an interesting study in sudden dishevelment) doesn't quite touch the page; he smells of dust and spice, as usual, but she smells blood on him- as she always has, she realizes. He is always sending a smile her way- Master likes a hard worker, he does, and he turns his head and beams at her.
"Local geography? You're too young to move mountains, Witch."
She looks away.
"Are you going to take a trip?"
She can feel her lip begin to tremble, and she locks her jaws down on a reflexive answer.
His hands whip from under his fall cloak and he grips her chin, so suddenly that she yelps.
"Are you taking a trip."
He is still smiling, but it has become twisted, a baring of teeth. There are no questions in his tone- Master says things only once.
Her breath shortens and comes quickly- she struggles to avoid gasping. Oh, he knows.
"I'm taking a trip."
His eyes widen almost comically- the expression of a sarcastic jester.
"Oh! Well, do take Wizard with you. He knows better than you that I don't like deserters."
He gets up and steps from the room with a jaunty wave, no evidence in his body language of the heavy threat he has issued. He knows, has suspected and confirmed his suspicions without Witch ever noticing.
Wizard has his own book open near a candle a little ways away. He hasn't heard, or at least does not indicate that he has. The altercation has taken less than one minute and it has left a lump of lead in her throat and tears pressing into her eyes.
He looks up after a while and makes eye contact, and mouths something- island?
But she doesn't understand, and shakes her head, getting up to leave.
She gathers her things that night, mostly books, the few coins she keeps tucked in secret places in the library and garden in preparation of her flight and plans for when she'll go and where.
It has to be far away- but not for too long- and she'd need somewhere secret to get her affairs together… The only person she could think of who would know something like that was Wizard, and she was loath to get him involved.
She slips from her bed at night and lights a candle. Witch goes down the line of colourful doors, which conceal frigid, uninhabited rooms with dark fireplaces. The mural on the opposite wall seems to glow in the unstable light- the green-haired lady, standing forever gracefully still next to her tree, looks like a displeased deity in the shadows.
The apprentice is armed with the time-honored, unshakable excuse of needing to use the lavatory should Master appear. She doesn't bother knocking at his door, as he is asleep, and she has to prod him in the ribs until he starts awake.
"I need your help." She says, and looks away. It's so embarrassing to have to ask help from him, but there is no better option, given the circumstances.
"What..?" The little weasel is still groggy- he actually sounds annoyed. A welcome break from the poker face he keeps up all the time.
"Do you know a place I can go to…uh, study. Where Master can't find me?"
He rolls over like a dog onto his stomach and settles back under his blankets.
"This is urgent!" She pries his hand from his side and digs her nails into his thumb until he relents.
Wizard sighs. "This isn't about studying…It never has been with you. So what… do you want?"
"I can't tell you that," She says. "Just tell me- hurry up!"
He does not hurry up- she has to threaten to break his fingers to get him out of bed.
He reaches for her hand, and she is sucked into a tunnel-like space of bright white fever dreams- it lasts only an instant and then they are standing in a great pile of muddy dead leaves in the great forest that borders the little town in the middle of the night.
An old animal trail snakes through the tall grasses- the sharp wind steals the last memory of warmth from her bed. Tomorrow there will be frost on the ground.
"Come on."
She follows, wishing she had brought her maps.
"A while ago… I found this place while I was… taking a walk. You can't use any magic here- it's sort of a dead zone."
It is something of a clearing- a tiny stream runs blackly in the scant and unreliable moonlight through one end. It feeds into a dark pond which is surrounded by mossy, crumbling stone blocks- ruins of some monument. Beyond this is a huge tree of indeterminable species. Witch feels thick and heavy- all her energy suddenly leeched away. This is exactly the place she needs- a magic-proof area to scheme, free of the all-seeing eye of Master.
"Don't spend too long here… you'll collapse. There's… something here that drains you…" Wizard's voice is slower and dreamier than usual- the cold hasn't woken him up fully. He sits on the grass and eyes her, standing before him and shivering, apparently willing to hear whatever she has to say for once.
"At the fair, I saw a demonstration." Witch hesitates and kicks some leaves around to punctuate the silence. The wind cuts through both the trees and her nightgown alike.
Wizard is stonily unfazed. He responds with something resembling sarcasm.
"Fascinating… aren't they?"
"No! Master was there- and they had these awful beasts in cages. Real beasts, not the kind you see in books… and they took one and killed it right in front of everybody- it made such a sad noise- Master got this look on his face, kind of excited, you know- and then…" Her voice shakes and cracks, her tangled thoughts clear on her face.
"Oh, that." He is not shocked, surprised, or even upset. "I've been learning that… for a while."
"Don't you find it sad? Cruel?"
"Master says it's unavoidable." He fiddles with a crumpled leaf. "I don't really like having to do that… but we have to."
"I don't want to hurt anything or anyone."
One of the memories she has from before she came into Master's care is of her mother, pulling up her skirts and smacking her thighs with a willow branch for burning a frog to death. Her mother held her head in her hands for a long while after that, sobbing. She hadn't known where the fire had come from. Little Witch had been playing by the river in broad daylight. After this incident, she had passed into the tutelage of Master, and four months later, received word that her mother had died of some horrible disease. One of the last memories of Witch that her mother would have had was of her burning the frog- an unnecessary death marked by the subconscious cruelty of an ignorant child.
"Maybe you can… find some way around it." Wizard studies her from among the grass and fallen leaves, and his eyes look about twenty years older than the rest of his face. He knows something she doesn't, some deadly and horrible ancient secret passed down to him, and it makes her feel absolutely insignificant.
"Like how?" She demands.
"I don't know." He says it in an odd tone- a hybrid of light sarcasm and sing-song taunting. Witch turns to leave, and as soon as she passes through the clearing, past the ruins and gargantuan tree (she has to bring her maps next time), the boggy feeling leaves her mind and she feels her usual energy flood in to replace it.
Can't seem to get the other story on track. I hope your expectations are nice and low. I'm on break, so that means I'll be writing a bit more- my monthly unreliable promise. (I should go back and just edit all those out- these author notes are stupid and pretty much useless anyway)
