Page 29 of Up from the Earth

Feminine and scratchy, the words sang through the breeze, demanding I walk deeper into the trees. While my heart bellowed in my ears—terror and panic trying to choke me—I wasn’t about to give up this pursuit. I knew in the recesses of my soul that it was necessary.

It grew darker and darker with each step, my journey into a dry, unhealthy forest changing to one where mossy tree stumps and soggy earth surrounded me. More and more of the world around me became a fetid swamp, the scent of stagnant water gagging me. Bogs of unknown depth cropped up sporadically, and a misstep landed my foot in one.

“Ugh,” I pulled it free, my skin coated in a grimy layer of sludge. It was achingly cold against my flesh as well, smelling foul beyond measure.

The hem of my black dress was stained with the off-green color of the sludge. It was like a ring of dried salt left over from sweat, and my stomach roiled, tumbling over itself. In the distance, a crow’s caw echoed through those gangly trees, and yellow eyes peered from the shadows. Fallen timber littered the ground, undergrowth of moss and slime painted over the damp bark as it eroded into crumbling piles. The festering landscape just stretched farther in front of me, and I had little choice but to continue, progressing through the marshy expanse in search of whatever had called me here.

Creeeaaaakkkk…

Adjusting wood screamed in the distance, the sound of an old spring door being forced open after years of being closed. My chest pinched, the effort of breathing somehow so very great. I swallowed, stepping beneath a closer huddle of trees. They pressed in on me, making me pull my body into itself as the image of the claw-like branches grasping me filled my mind.

“Whoever has called me, show yourself.”

Getting past the trees was a climb, and I had to grip the bottom of my dress and hike it up near my knees so I would not trip. That, too, became too much, and I restored to tearing off the last few inches of fabric. Mist slid over my skin, wet and cold, and a tree ahead of me glared.

Wait.

I froze in my tracks, shaking my head as I tried to refocus on the trunks up ahead on either side of this little path. Gnarled, angry faces appeared in the bark. They were there yet…indistinct, difficult to determine if I was just seeing things or if the forest peered at me with a hungry malice.

“Ugh, why am I doing this?”

But that yank in my sternum, the hazy image of a gold thread leading off into the trees, prevented me from turning back. I had to follow this. Here, wherever here was, held the key to unlocking a final door I’d yet to open. Behind it lay a piece of who I was. I was sure of it, and despite the unease and discomfort, I had to press on.

Creeeaaaakkkk…

That groaning wood hollered once more, this time followed by the sound of stone grinding against stone. I had no place for them in my mind. The sounds could mean anything and nothing. And still, I knew I had to follow them.

Making myself as small as possible, I slipped between the corridor of trees, their tortured, hideous faces stretching long, their mouths becoming endless voids as they moaned. Past them, the swamp darkened even further, and then, just a few yards away, was a squat pond of marsh water. A bridge of wooden slats perched just over the pea soup-green liquid, leading to the rear.

Posts sat at uneven intervals along the path, and I tracked them from the edge of the marsh to my destination. My jaw fell open, a gasp escaping me as I instinctively reeled back, my hands covering my mouth.

Her. Oh, Gods. I’ve been brought to…

At the end of the wooden bridge lay a house. In most ways, the building was as uneventful and ordinary as any other old home that had fallen into disrepair. It consisted of entirely drab shades, brown-gray panels covered in mossy stains created the siding, and dark shutters—broken and missing several pieces—hung limply from the lightless windows.

There was a single floor and a single door, at which stood a single lamp, the flame flickering behind dirty, cracked glass. The posts, glowing themselves with pitiful bouts of fire, led right up to it, as did the bridge. But there was no way to reach the door from there.

Because the house stood at least fifteen feet off the ground—on chicken legs.

A stagnant wind rushed past, and that creaking sound accompanied it. Her house groaned as it swayed on its unstable foundation. And from inside, that grinding sound of stone on stone screeched through the dark doorway.

Cerridwen…It’s about time you came inside, don’t you think?

I could scarcely breathe or swallow, my body clamping down on itself at the voice cut through my mind with the effectiveness of a dull blade. My pulse ramped up, and my hands began to tremble. I had to go on, though. This was what I’d come all this way for.

Taking one step and then another, I began to cross the bridge. Every instinct screamed to run in the other direction, and I fought the urge with everything I had. Time stretched, making the walk toward the house take hours. I couldn’t stop myself from looking around me, my stare settling on the knotted posts on either side of me.

But they weren’t knots. What I’d mistaken for large masses from gnarled branches were, in fact, skulls jammed down on the top of the thick stalks and glowing faintly from the eye sockets. The tiny orbs of flame appeared to follow me as I got closer and closer to her house.

Come on, Cerri. You can do this. After everything you’ve been through. You can do this.

I sucked in a deep breath, nearly regretting it for the stench that lingered in the air. Resolve filled my blood, and I didn’t stop, following each of those ancient boards of wood, each skull placed on a pike as a warning, until I reached the edge of the marsh, standing before the hut and its two black-fleshed, claw-tipped feet.

“I seek entrance.” My voice echoed through the clearing, this decaying landscape set between the mass of trees. “You have called me here, and I have come.”

Silence hung over me like mildew-laden fabric, but I held firm, unflinching. After a moment, the house creaked once more, and a figure appeared at the door, still too distant to make out much more than the stooped posture she held.

“Indeed you have, child.” The voice was the same as I’d heard in my mind but more penetrating as the witch now stood before me. “And are you ready for your tasks? I have a number of them for you…Cerridewn Adaire Locke.”

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