The Last Witch

Pillars of white flame burst to life on either side of him, flaring upward close enough to scorch his nose, lining the path forward as though pulling him forward in grand welcome. Unlike the flame Penn held, these burned hot and angry, an anger Asher could feel beating against his chest, the kind that simmered as it wound up, ready to explode at any moment. Asher staggered back, crashing into Penn who rushed up behind him. The other man thrust his arm out and yelled in that strange language, but the pillars didn’t settle.

‘What’s wrong?’ Asher asked.

Penn’s eyes narrowed. ‘They’re still here.’

‘Who—’

‘Hello, Asher.’

Something cold and horrible wrapped around Asher’s chest and squeezed. Vertigo took hold as the stones grew taller around him, or he was growing smaller. The source of the voice approached from around a corner, stepping onto the path as though it was on an evening stroll. The Alchemist.

The creature stood straighter than he had in the market, and the pock-marked bald spots were now covered in a thick head of white hair. That same bemused smile spread across his face. All at once Asher was back in the market, back in that awful world, and the fear of death swallowed him. It was finality, it was the flash before everything went black, it was the moment before a glass hit stone and shattered. He could see it, he could feel it, and fear dug deep into every one of his muscles and held firm.

‘Do not let him trick you,’ Penn hissed in his ear.

‘Hello,’ the Alchemist tilted his head to take in Penn. ‘I knew you’d come back. Jaliti debne Nakati. You are the weakest of your line for a long time.’

Penn flinched. ‘You do not speak the words.’

The Alchemist chuckled. ‘Are you ordering me, little Jaliti? Or perhaps my pronunciation was wrong. Why don’t you show me how it’s done?’

Penn raised his hand again, but Asher caught it, forcing it back down. ‘He’s baiting you,’ he hissed.

‘Very good, Asher,’ the Alchemist said. ‘Asher. Leiutenant. So many names. Are you the witch? The only one left. How sad for you.’

Penn lifted his hand again, and when Asher grabbed it, Penn shoved him to the side.

‘He is making us wait,’ Penn hissed.

‘You are so tragic, little one,’ the Alchemist said. ‘No crown, no home, and after all this time in this world, you haven’t learned the language.’ His grin widened, welts of blood breaking across his cheeks as pointed teeth fought through. ‘The word is “stalling.”’

Penn shouted loud and angry, and the pillars of flame shot sideways, enveloping the space where the Alchemist no longer was. Asher turned as a large chunk of rock broke from the slope behind them and crashed into the ground.

It then stood up. The rocks didn’t take any shape of arms and legs, instead they stayed as a lump of fallen rock, but it rose to a height taller than the craggy cliffs around it and when the largest rock twisted around, two holes punctured the middle and blinked.

Asher’s legs froze as the monster stared at them both. He had no weapons, again. He had no way to get away from it, again. He only had the single crutch, and he was down one leg. He was going to die. All over again, he was caught like a mouse in a trap.

The rock monster lunged forward, the smaller rocks around its edges rolling around to move it, a tidal wave of stone about to devour them both. Asher brandished his crutch, but his mind whirled and his body refused to move. He was paralysed against the landslide with eyes.

Penn yelled out again, but as he raised his hand, the rock monster lunged at him and Penn’s hand disappeared into a sudden hole of stone, clamping down tight. Asher brought the cane down hard on the creature, but it did nothing. Forcing his body into action as Penn strained to pull free, he jammed the crutch into the same hole that had swallowed the man’s hand and pushed with all the strength he could manage, to pry the stone away. It felt like trying to move the cliffs themselves.

‘Not you.’ The Alchemist’s voice hissed in Asher’s ear as something grabbed his collar and yanked him back. Asher hit the ground, knocking his teeth together and sending a sharp pain through his tailbone. The same force held his coat and dragged him back, pulling him across the ash line and further away from Penn. Penn called out, either to him or the spirits, Asher couldn’t tell. He scrambled to catch hold of something, his nails catching on the hard ground and tearing.

‘We never finished our game, Lieutenant,’ the Alchemist said. ‘But it’s no fun if you have no leg. I’ll make you a new one. A better one.’

‘Let go of me!’ Asher tried to grab at the hand that grabbed his collar, but the shape wasn’t solid; it came with the sensation of cold water bleeding into his skin. Still, he swatted and pulled, until his head slammed into the ground and the Alchemist vanished again.

‘Dirty boy.’ The Alchemist reappeared in front of him, the corners of his mouth twisted down against the smile in a grotesque anger. ‘Horrible witch. You won’t stop us. You won’t win alone. You will die here.’

‘I’m not afraid of you,’ Asher snapped. He could hear his heart pounding against his chest, and his blood roaring in his ears.

The Alchemist chuckled. ‘Humans on their own are so weak, and you aren’t even whole. So many other creatures are built for survival, better, faster, stronger. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a living human to fix up.’

He’s stalling again. Asher thrust his crutch upwards, catching another tidal wave of stone before it could come down on his head. His crutch held, but his arms exploded with pain, the muscles screaming as the full force of the mountain pushed against him. Asher cried out, but he couldn’t move, not even to release the cramps ripping across his arms. If he let go, it would hit him, but if he stayed, his arms would rip off under the strain.

‘Keep fighting us, soldier witch,’ the Alchemist chided. ‘You’ll end up behind the Gate and fighting for freedom with us before you can blink. Oh, I can’t wait to pull you apart and remake you.’

He wasn’t even a witch. He had no way of fighting back in the way this monster was mocking him for. Or could he?

Use the dust.

The rocks reared up to attack again, and Asher rolled out of the way as it came down. Pain exploded through his shoulder as it thudded against the ground, pinned in place by the stone. With his hand free, he lashed out towards the pillar of flame, plunging his hand into the white hot line before closing his fist and slamming it into the stone.

The stone shattered in a burst of white flame.

The monster roared, loud and deep enough to shake the ground beneath him. Asher screamed with it, but more as a reaction than anything else. His hand screamed as searing pain swallowed it, as though his skin had been flayed off, though he couldn’t see any damage.

He had just used magic. He was using magic.

The monster straightened and the two holes that served as eyes fixed on him. Asher fought to catch his breath, then noticed his cane sitting between him and the monster. It was covered in the same dust the rest of him had been.

The monster lunged, and Asher grabbed his cane and rammed it as hard as he could into the creature’s eye. His aim missed and the crutch splintered in the middle, the half still in his hand thrown to the side as the rest fell to splinters at his feet. With a sound that was half cry and half roar, Asher aimed again, this time hitting true. The splintered wood jabbed into the monster’s eye and sank deep, driving deeper and deeper until Asher had to pull back to save his hand being swallowed with it.

The stone monster thrashed, rocks thrusting and falling in every direction, with no pattern or reason. The ground shook beneath them, and the largest stone drove into the walls over and over, throwing itself into the cliffs as an impossible roar ripped the air around him. Asher shoved his palms into his ears, but it did little to block it out. Then, with one final lurch, the creature threw itself at the canyon wall and shattered to pieces.

Silence fell heavy over the air as Asher pulled himself to his feet. His breathing echoed out against the stone impossibly loud, and each breath only scrambled his thoughts further. He had used magic. Penn had been right; he was a witch.

Penn!