Page 55 of The Witch and His Crow

‘W- what are those…c—creatures,’ I stammered, stumbling as the ground beneath my feet broke apart. Stones rolled down the steep decline, reminding me what would happen to my body if I didn’t focus.

Arwyn shouted at my back,almostdistracting me. ‘Hurry. Faster!’

I spared a glance over my shoulder, watching the vortex of crows building around Arwyn. They grew closer to him, swallowing him and his blue fire whole, until I lost sight of him. In my mind I imagined the hundreds of creatures ripping into Arwyn’s flesh.

He had to be dead.

If it wasn’t for Caym, I would’ve stayed and watched.‘Don’t let his life be wasted.’

Caym confirmed my fear, making me sick to my stomach. But he was right. Arwyn had sacrificed himself to give me time, I shouldn’t waste it. Act now, worry later.

It took every reserve of energy I had left to reach the bottom of the hill. Exhaustion was such a heavy burden, I daydreamed about letting my knees drop so I could simply roll down thehillside. A few broken bones would be worth it, and I was so detached from reality, I hardly would’ve felt it.

It got harder to see the closer I got to the village. I couldn’t feel my feet, and the sensation was quickly spreading up my legs. I had just made it close enough to see a water wheel churning beside a river, the sound a distant creaking, when I tripped. Perhaps if I had sense of my body, it would’ve hurt. In reality, I felt at peace just lying face down on the ground.

‘Get up, Hector. We are close. The boundary will keep them out. Get. Up!

I was too weak to reply to Caym, aloud or in my mind. There was only darkness. Feverish pain. It was as if the shadows were inside of me, claiming me from the inside out. My vision was narrowed to pinpricks. I managed to look up long enough to see the hint of a large rock ahead of me. In fact, I recognised at least three before the darkness lingering in the corners of my eyes swallowed it whole.

My senses left me one by one. The heavy scent of farmland faded, but not before I caught the familiar, sweet scent of a flower that reminded me of my mother, although I didn’t know why. My fingers sunk into the churned earth, mud filling beneath my nails, but that sensation soon began to fade as well. But it stuck around long enough for firm hands to reach beneath me. The ground fell away and there was a rushed swaying motion. I longed to speak, to demand answers or beg to be saved.

Whereas my body refused me, my mind was relatively sharp. I knew, whatever those creatures were, their talons were coated in a poison.

Unless Caym had shifted into a human form, the person carrying me had to be someone from the village I had reached. Or it was Arwyn. Maybe he hadn’t died. Funny how, even in the face of such turmoil, the thought gave me relief.

I couldn’t hear or see anything. But the touch was oddly familiar. It soothed me enough to let go and let the darkness truly take me away.

What followed werebrief moments of understanding. I would claw myself awake, eyes opening to a wooden panelled roof above me. Sometimes it was light, other times completely dark. I was laid on my side, my back exposed to the cool air. Even though my top had been removed, I was boiling hot.

One time I’d woken with the violent urge to rip my skin off. If it wasn’t for the firm hands that suddenly grasped a hold of me, perhaps I would’ve succeeded in scratching through my skin to the beast deep inside, demanding release.

‘It’s inside of me!’ I screamed, over and over, until my throat bled. ‘Get it out! I can feel it!’

Hands grasped my wrists, pinning me down. Then a face came into view, soft brows and eyes overspilling with worry. Arwyn. He was here. He was alive. That alone was enough to cut through my hysteria.

I lifted a shaking hand and rested it on the side of his face, proving this wasn’t some illusion brought on by my fever. ‘You.’

‘I’m here, and so is your friend.’ Arwyn peered behind him, to a crow perched on a wooden post across the ceiling of the strange building.

Caym. He watched over us.

‘You must rest,’ Arwyn said, almost whispering for some odd reason. ‘I promise, I’ll let nothing happen to you.’

I looked to Caym again, eyes slow and heavy. His voice filled my mind. ‘Do as he says, Hector. I will not let harm befall you.’

I laughed, which in hindsight was odd, because Arwyn wouldn’t have heard Caym. ‘How lucky am I…’ I tripped over the words as though my tongue was numb and useless. ‘I’ve two bodyguards…how…exciting.’

Sleep found me again, if that was what I could call it. More like existing in a dark place, a pocket dimension in my soul, where something festered in the shadows. Except it wasn’t Caym who haunted me in this darkness, but something else. Something I couldn’t quite reach.

Other times, when I woke, it was not to shout. It was as though I was roused enough to catch words being spoken by a deep voice.

Poison. Salve. Healing.

I almost thought I heard Romy reply, but the voice—although high pitched in tone—had a strange dialect. A thick accent marred with some words that were ineligible.

It was far easier to fall back into sleep. There, the pain was muffled. In sleep, the suffering couldn’t reach me.

I belonged in the darkness, as did the unseen presence. We were friends, almost. As familiar as brothers. And every now and then, as the dreams began, I heard the clicking of hooves.

---