The Witch and the Son

There were once three young children, two boys and a girl, who lived with their mother and father in a house in the city. But it came to pass that the father left the mother for a younger woman, and the mother and her children were forced out of their home.

Taking what measly coin the husband had left her, the mother set out in search of a new home. All of the nearby houses were far too expensive, though, and she was forced to look elsewhere.

The day came on to evening. Soon the family came to where no other houses were, and the mother despaired, for she knew that their luck had run out, and they would have to spend the night in the cold and the weather. But just as she knelt to the ground, beginning to cry, she saw in the distance the shape of a hut. Mustering what little hope she had left, the mother led her brood to the small house.

She rapped on the door thrice. It swung open to reveal a fat, ugly woman with a hooked nose and a crooked, toothy leer.

“Please, kind lady, I and my children are poor and without house. Would you be so kind as to let us shelter here for the night?” Said the mother.

“Of course, my dear, of course!” Said the woman. “Pray come in.”

She led them into her house, and had them sit upon comfortable chairs.

“Wait here, I will get you all some tea and cookies. They are my best recipe, and they are right from the oven!”

As they waited the mother leaned over to her three children and whispered to them:

“Listen to me, children. The woman who hosts us is a stranger, and I do not know that I trust her. Never fully trust such a one, nor accept gifts of advice from them, until you have grown to know them. You may eat her cookies and drink her tea, but take nothing else from her.”

The woman returned, laden with mugs of tea and trays of cookies. They were baked just right, so that they were crumbly and sweet. The children soon forgot their woes, but the mother remained wary of the strange woman.

The woman began to ask the mother questions. What were her favorite recipes? What did she garden? How was her sewing? The mother was quickly put at ease. The stranger was quite friendly, and the mother had soon quite forgotten her fears as well.

Night fell and the old crone led the mother and her four children to a small, comfortable bedroom with a window. The bed was very soft, and one by one the children fell asleep. The mother was awake for some time, but eventually she too succumbed.

The youngest child awoke to a tapping noise on the window. Moonlight streamed into the room, but it was blocked by the large head of the old crone. She smiled and beckoned to the little girl, holding aloft a pretty silver necklace. The little girl quietly slipped from her bed and made for the door. Soon she was outside.

The crone loomed above her, and suddenly the child was frightened.

“Why are we outside?” Asked the little girl.

“Why, so that I can give you this pretty little gift!” Said the crone, grinning toothlessly. “I crafted it just for you! Let it be our secret, child.” She winked, and for the first time the girl noticed that the woman’s eyes glowed yellow.

And yet she forgot the command of her mother, and she took the pretty necklace, and wore it. And that night as she slept the necklace tightened and strangled the girl until she died.

The next child awoke to tapping on the window. There, like his sister, he saw the old crone smiling and beckoning to him. But he remembered his mother’s warning, and stayed still. Then the old crone held to the moonlight an awesome wooden sword, and the little boy could not resist his curiosity to touch the plaything. And thus he left the side of his sister who had just died, and went outside.

There the crone was waiting.

“Why have you called me?” The little boy asked cautiously.

“Why, so that I can give you this pretty little gift!” Answered the crone, grinning her toothless grin. “I crafted it just for you! Let it be our secret, child.”

She winked, and the boy noticed that her eyes were an unnatural shade of yellow. But in his excitement for the sword, he paid it no heed. Thus he took the sword and went back to his room, where he fell back to sleep.

But as he slept the enchanted, evil wooden sword became of a cold iron of the shadows, and it lifted into the air all on its own, and fell upon the boy’s chest, spearing his heart. Thus the boy died silently.

The third and eldest child now awoke to the tapping of the window. He sat up in his bed, never noticing his strangled sister or his stabbed brother. At the window was the crone, beckoning to the boy to come outside.

But the eldest child was the wisest of the three, and he remembered clearly the words of his mother. He sat and looked upon crone, and in that instant he saw her malice, and her cruelty, and her evil. And then he was frightened, and he awoke his mother.

When she was roused from her sleep the mother asked her son what was wrong. It was then, as he pointed to the window, that she noticed her two dead children.

The mother screamed and looked to where her son pointed. Then she saw the crone, and a great, hateful sadness filled her. For she knew that she had been blinded by the crone’s kind words and her hospitality, when she was really a vile witch. In her rage she left the house and went to face the crone, but when came upon the cold night air the witch was nowhere to be found.

But as the eldest child sat huddled, crying and hugging his knees, the witch appeared out of thin air before the bed. She crept to the boy’s side, singing a wicked rhyme:

Little bird, little bird, in a crow’s nest,

What shall I do with the dirty little pest?

Pluck out its eyes and steal its sight?

Or take its legs and rob it of its flight?

P’raps crush it slow and let it squeal all night!

But as the crone laughed and plotted these horrid things, a sudden courage came into the boy’s heart. He seized the witch’s wicked sword from his poor brother, and drove it into her chest. Then he took his poor sister’s necklace and deftly fastened it around the witch’s neck. And thus the witch died, killed by her own fell instruments and the wit of a clever boy.

The mother died soon after of grief, but the boy grew into a fine man. He became a master swordsman, and fought evils from coast to coast before marrying the princess and becoming King of the land. He lived happily ever after.

The End.

The Hunter - Part Two

Kendrin slept soundly. The beds at the Dancing Frog Inn were not exceptional, just a sack stuffed with feathers, but compared to his recent accommodations in the cold, harsh wilds, his small room felt like a King’s chambers.

When he woke he meditated for an hour before going downstairs for food. He chose a table in the corner. It was the instinct of a man like him to have solid walls at his back at all times. He watched people come and go. Eventually a portly man in an apron walked to his table, holding a platter with bread and cheese.

“Sorry about the wait, sir.” He said fearfully. “We have quite a few more customers than usual today.”

Kendrin looked around. There were five other people in the tavern. He sighed.

“It is quite alright. Would you get me a bit of port, though, if it isn’t too much trouble?”

The man nodded and walked away.

“They’ve had a change of staff,” Kendrin murmured to himself.

The hunter picked away at his bread and cheese and considered his next steps. He had spent quite enough time in this quaint little village, almost a year, and it was time to move on. But where to go? That was the question.

Slowly more guests trickled downstairs. The server came with his port. Kendrin ate, drank, and thought, but his mind kept wandering. He finished the food and pushed his plate back. It scraped harshly on the uneven wood. A serving girl came and took it away.

Abruptly the door swung open. Eight men walked into the tavern. They wore heavy winter gear over red, militaristic uniforms. Their cheeks were red from the cold and they breathed heavily, gulping the warm air of the fire. They would have walked like soldiers had they not been so tired.  They were clearly foreigners. The first man walked to the counter and checked into the inn in between gasps. Kendrin glanced around the tavern. All of the guests looked rather uncomfortable at the sight of these newcomers. Visitors were rare in Ferryworth.

The men walked upstairs to their rooms. Kendrin sipped his port absently. They returned a few minutes later, got food, and sat down at a large central table. The men talked in hushed whispers, glancing at each person in the tavern in turn. Finally their eyes settled on Kendrin. He held their stare until they looked away.

These men were looking for something, Kendrin could tell. They did not belong in the North, and the hunter sensed that they were unused to this land.

‘They must be adventurers,’ He thought. ‘But how did they find a way through the mountains?’ He silently resolved to investigate.

The men whispered a few more hushed words, glancing repeatedly at Kendrin. After a moment the man that had led the party in stood and walked to Kendrin’s table. He sat down at a chair opposite him. He was young but balding, and he wore a fuzzy brown mustache on his lip.

“How d’you do?” The man asked politely, extending a hand. Kendrin did not shake it.

“Fine enough.” He responded shortly.

Taken aback, the man continued. “I am Captain Vance Rogers of the thirtieth Atarian brigade. My men and I have been commissioned to map the province of Northland for our country, and we have come a long way to be here.” Kendrin nodded.

“Ataria has mapped the lands surrounding your village, of course, but my men have a greater prize in mind- the Dreadwood.”

Kendrin raised his eyebrows and chuckled. “Three things, Captain Rogers- first, this is not my village. Second, not just anybody ventures into the Dreadwood and leaves alive. Especially not Southerners like yourselves. And thirdly, if you wanted any hope of surviving even half a day in that forest, you would need a guide.”

“For which we would pay much.” Finished Captain Rogers.

Kendrin raised his eyebrows. How curious. “Indeed?” He said. “Why me, Captain?”

“We need a guide quickly. We plan to begin our journey at sunrise. The locals here have told us to find the bountyman, said he’s our best bet. You look like him.”

Kendrin chuckled. He had no liking for these military men, but this job was an interesting prospect.

“You guess well, Captain.” He said. “I have spent a bit of time in the shallower parts of the forest, which is more than anyone else can say. How much are you offering?” He took a swig of his port.

“Five hundred gold, upon completion of the job.” The Captain stated.

“Make that one thousand.”

The Captain was silent for a moment. “Let me discuss it with my men,” He said, and returned to his table. Kendrin tightened his bowstring while he waited.

After several minutes the Captain returned.

“You have a deal.” He said.

“Very well.” Replied the bountyman, standing up. He extended his hand. “My name is Kendrin.”

The Captain paused, and then shook it.

Kendrin walked to the stairs. “Meet me here at daybreak,” He said. “And don’t be late.”

. . .

The sun was well on its way into the sky when Captain Rogers came downstairs, followed by his soldiers. They were fully dressed for exploration. Kendrin sat at his table, a smile on his face. “Slept in, did we?” He said. The Captain did not respond.

Kendrin stood. His bow was strapped to his back. A quiver stocked full of arrows accompanied it, and three silver arrows were strapped to his chest, if he needed them. His swords hung in gleaming scabbards at his sides.

“Are you checked out, bountyman?” Rogers asked. Kendrin nodded.

The soldiers checked out and met Kendrin at the door. “I’m excited!” Captain Rogers said, obviously attempting to lift his soldiers morale. “It’s a good day for adventure!” He clapped one of his men on the back. Kendrin rolled his eyes as they set off down the road.

The party hiked silently behind Kendrin as he led them along trails and up hills. Soon they were shivering in the cold air. Further still they went.

As they neared their destination, Kendrin spoke. “Prepare yourselves, gentlemen. All manner of monster inhabits the Dreadwood. I have encountered wolfmen, babas, and trolls. I even killed a wendigo on the edge of the forest just last night.” Rogers nodded, impressed.

“If the rumors of hunters better than I are true, however, there are far deadlier things in the forest. I have even heard myths of mad Fey lords that inhabit these woods, great Fae-Tar kings driven into the north by their grief and madness. The sickness of their minds has spread among those trees and tainted them. It is a place of dark whim, where little is as you expect. Even soldiers like yourselves may find your minds slipping in such twilight places.”

“But certain things may make you safer while you are in the Dreadwood’s clutch. Never trust strangers more than you must. Take note of anything out of the ordinary, no matter how subtle. Live off of your rations for as long as you can- much of the food in the forest is poisoned. And most importantly, be quiet. Do not laugh or cry, and speak as quietly as you are able. If I signal, you all must make no noise. It could be a matter of life or death.” The soldiers nodded gravely.

“If you become lost or are separated from us, stay where you are. You will have no chance of survival if you start moving. Trust me on this.”

One of Rogers men shivered. “This makes that mountain pass we took to get here sound like nothing, don’t it boys?” The soldiers tittered nervously.

“Trust me, if any of you are afraid, you’d best turn around now.” Kendrin said. “This forest is an evil place. It feeds on fear- the more there is, the more dangerous. Only courage will get you through this place. Anything less will reward us all with death.”

Rogers sighed. “You do paint a bleak picture, bountyman. But I will go on. My country asks it of me, and so I must.” He turned to his men. “If any of you would turn back, say so now. I don’t want anyone compromising our safety.”

No hands were raised.

“My men are of tough stock.” Said Rogers. “Continue, bountyman.”

Finally the men crested a ridge to see a wall of trees several hundred yards away. As the party approached, a single dark path in the trees became clear.

“Intimidating place,” Captain Rogers remarked. “Is that where we start?”

“That is a good question with a strange answer.” Kendrin told him, with fear in his voice. “For the Dreadwood is a strange, deadly place. I can tell you with absolute certainty that this opening was not here last afternoon.” He sighed. “In fact, there has never been a path through the Dreadwood. This is a bad sign. By all accounts, trails do not appear unless the Dreadwood wants you to enter it, and that means that we are being watched. By what, I do not no. Perhaps the wood’s malevolence itself. No, I propose we stay off the trail. Its mere existence proves to me that it would be dangerous to tread. Better to remain off the path and unseen than on it and hunted.”

Kendrin took a deep breath. “That is all I have to say. Now, let us begin.”

. . .

The men approached the trail. As they got closer a black fear settled in their hearts, and the trees seemed to creak in anticipation, inviting them into the shadows.

Kendrin had not been jesting when he said he feared that they were being watched. He felt it in his bones, like only a honed highborne ranger might. Something evil and powerful had taken an interest in the adventurers, and Kendrin was wary. But he could not identify a source for this fear, so he had to be content with his instincts.

He chose a spot some sixty feet off of the path, where the trees were still thin. He and the men looked back once at the beautiful, crystal white mountains and stepped away into the shadows. The trees were dark, and soon the men began reaching for torches and lanterns.

“Stop!” Hissed Kendrin. “Do you want to kill us all? Put them away, fools.” The scathed men quickly stowed their lights. Kendrin reached into his pack and removed an eerie, ornately gothic lantern forged in the design of spikes and thorns.

“This is called a Ghostwise Lantern.” He informed them. “It was difficult to procure, but it is a valuable item. Only those I choose can see its light. When I will it-” Purple fire sprang up inside the lantern. “-it ignites.”

The party walked in silence for several hours. Soon they started to hear eerie noises in the wood, strange cawings and howls of madness. “Be on your guard,” Kendrin said simply.

“Get down!” The hunter whispered suddenly and dropped to a crouch. The soldiers clumsily followed suit. “There,” He said, pointing. There seemed to be a dim green light ahead.

The men followed Kendrin as he slowly approached the light. As they neared it, they saw that it was just a lantern hanging from a bracket on a tree. Its green light danced unevenly, illuminating the message scratched on the tree underneath.

Welcome to my dreams

“What devilry is this?” Exclaimed Captain Rogers loudly.

“Quiet, man!” Hissed Kendrin angrily. “We must now be especially careful. We have been openly challenged, and now we must be ready for anything.

Captain Rogers continued on, following the bountyman further into the trees. He grew sleepy, although they must not have marched for more than several hours. He watched his toes as and pondered his strange guide. The bountyman was an intimidating man, fierce and cold. Yet Rogers sensed that he was good. He had always been told that he was a good judge of character.

Rogers looked up, and a shudder ran down his spine. He was alone. Where had his men gone? Where was their guide? He stopped, blood curdling at the eerie silence that followed. He looked around, peering into the trees. There was no one.

Rogers began to walk again, speeding up his pace. As he did so he heard a strange sound in the trees, terrifying and cold. Yes, someone was laughing. How curious. Who would laugh in a place like this? Despite himself, however, a small chuckle escaped him. It was followed by another, and then a larger guffaw. Whatever the joke, it really was quite funny. Rogers doubled over as he walked, consumed by mirth. He howled, oh how it was hilarious! Tears streamed down his face and slobber dripped from his jaws.

Rogers looked up again and his laughter instantly began to die. Before him was himself, hunched over, on his knees howling in mirth. His closed eyes were darkly ringed and his hair had fallen out in clumps. His fingernails were long, dirty and ragged. His teeth were rotting and brown.

The thing opened eyes. They were filled with a green madness that tore at Rogers’s soul.

“Find my heart, captain!” Said the monstrous thing. “I’ve Looked and looked, and it just isn’t to be seen!” As it cackled madly, the thing tore at its chest, and to Rogers’ horror it dug its fingers inside its breast. With a tug its chest was open. It’s sickly white lungs rose and fell as it breathed heavily, and tubes reached down through its body to its stomach. Worms riddled into its guts. But Rogers could see no heart.

The Captain screamed and screamed until he could no longer.

The Door

Twas early morning, not quite bright,

And in the wood I walked.

The boughs were creaking in the wind,

The leaves began to rot.

The trees told me a story,

They said come with us dear friend!

Come, let me tell you a story-

From the beginning to the end.

I walked and followed their voices,

The trees began to grow.

Older now they were and solemn,

Of times past long ago.

I crossed a creek by wooden bridge,

And then over a grassy ridge.

To my surprise, in the hill I saw a door!

A knobby door with etched runes of yore.

I thought it strange, a little queer.

I’d never seen a door here!

But then I’d never been here before!

I resolved then to try this door,

To see where it might lead.

Perhaps it was an alehouse,

Filled with ale, wine and mead!

Perhaps it was a gardenhouse,

Filled with pots and seeds.

It could have been a sooty mine,

Spilling with silver and greed!

I grasped the knob and took a pull

It wouldn’t budge! I tried once more.

Locked! I sighed. I should have known.

I turned around to go on home.

And there I saw before my eyes,

A small glimmer, to my surprise

A key was lying upon the ground!

I picked it up and looked back to the mound.

The key seemed just the right size…

I put it in. The click of a lock! I opened up the door…

And I shall tell you nothing more.