Page 15 of A Touch of Shadows

‘In the village, they called you the witch’s bastard.’

‘Well they say a lot…’ She caught her own words. They weren’t going to be saying a lot of anything in Thirbridge anymore… ‘Said… by the light…’ Fighting the urge to throw up, she turned away from him. ‘She’s just a healer. That’s all. Not a witch.’ Except Elodie called herself a hedge witch all the time. And the things they did… it wasn’t all herbs and tinctures, was it?

Elodie’s skill with othertongue was different though. Special. And far beyond the remit of mere hedge witches. Light danced to Elodie’s whim. It always had done. And for Wren, the shadows did the same. Sometimes. When she could keep hold of them.

And if a horde of soldiers and witchhunters from Ilanthus poured into Thirbridge, with fire and sword, the villagers were going to do and say whatever was necessary to make them go away. Even if it meant turning Elodie over. If they were given any time to speak at all.

Holy light, the baby and Lindie, her mother, Devin Carter…

Everyone Wren knew…

‘There are far too many of them to be after just one witch,’ Finn muttered.

Wren shoved his shoulder and, when he looked at her, she snatched the telescope from his hand. He seemed to find that amusing, though he didn’t laugh. It wasn’t a time for laughter. ‘By all means, be my guest.’

Below them, a group of Ilanthian soldiers appeared through the trees, coming down the Knightsford road. They stopped where she and Finn had stopped, milling around. A man on a grey stallion removed his helmet, revealing white-blond hair. Wren focused on him, bringing him into view. Handsome. As handsome as the man beside her, but older, and harder, with an air of privilege that couldn’t be ignored. He studied the trees, and then turned almost as if he was looking right at her. Grey eyes, like steel.

‘Leander,’ Finn growled. ‘The crown prince himself. This is not good. We need to move. He’ll find our tracks and?—’

What was he doing on first-name terms with the Ilanthian crown prince?

‘No, they’re leaving,’ Wren told him, as Prince Leander gave an elegant hand gesture to his troops and they thundered on down the road ahead.

‘Don’t bet on it. He doesn’t give up that easily.’

‘How do you know?’

But Finn didn’t answer. He moved back towards his own horse, keeping low to avoid detection from below just in case.

‘I need to get word to Knightsford. He won’t dare go that far, I suspect, but they need to be informed. I don’t know what he thinks he’s after right now, but he’s caught the scent of something. There should be a royal garrison at Knightsford at the ready to move north and intercept them at the first sign of an incursion. Or at the very least we can send a message further south.’

‘But Thirbridge,’ she said. ‘We can’t just… we have to help them.’

He shook his head. ‘We can’t. Leander doesn’t travel with so small a force. The rest of them are back there, burning everything in sight, killing everyone they find, covering their tracks. Or his tracks, anyway. Thirbridge is already gone. He’s hunting. He won’t stop.’ The bitterness in his voice made Wren pause and she looked up at him in alarm.

‘What’s he hunting?’

A strange kind of wind rippled through the trees around them, making the leaves whisper and shake. Wren thought for a moment she heard Elodie’s voice. It was like a warning, a cry of alarm. She couldn’t make it out but she sounded… afraid? That wasn’t possible. Nothing scared Elodie. But as soon as Wren thought she heard it, it was gone. She was about to ask Finn if he’d heard it too but he didn’t so much as glance at her.

Finn kept his gaze locked on the retreating figure, even though he didn’t have the telescope to see any details. Perhaps he didn’t need it.

‘Witches,’ he said in a voice thick with loathing. ‘Me. His two favourite quarries. Take your pick.’

‘SONG OF THE WITCHKIND OF GARIOS’

Witchkind are older than time, and stranger than dreams. They wander and are free.

Those who would chain them should take heed. Though beaten and subdued, they will rise. Though chained, shackles will be broken. Though driven to exile, they will return. They will rise again and again until they can rise no more.

Witchkind wear nothing they do not choose to wear, bear nothing they do not choose to bear, submit to the will of no one they do not love.

We are Witchkind. We will live free or die.

CHAPTER 9

ELODIE

With Wren on the way to the village Elodie went to the upper floor to look out over the trees, to sit with the soft breeze coming through the open window carrying the distant scent of the sea from so far away. Light, she missed the sea…

---