Sightwitch (The Witchlands 0.5)

He laughed, which I had to admit was a nice sound. Though perhaps it was simply my own excitement brightening the moment.

“Are you always like this?” I asked as he stood, stiff yet surprisingly energetic. “Or is it the pain making you act this way? Or perhaps that tincture labeled Cure-All?”

“You mean, am I always this charming?”

“Ridiculous was more what I had in mind.”

“You wound me, Ryber Fortiza.” He reached a steadying hand to a table. “As for your question, I don’t know if I’m always this way. I cannot remember a thing.”

Again, the air turned frosty. My breath fogged.

“How about I call you Captain, then?” I pointed to his buttons. “That’s what the silver means, isn’t it?”

“Captain,” he repeated, his gaze turning distant. “I suppose … hye, that will work.” The faintest dusting of snow began to fall.

It landed on my face, a welcome cool against the scratches the Rook had left behind. And despite the sting on my cheeks, I grinned and grinned and grinned—for oh, yes, Sirmaya had blessed me indeed. A map and an Airwitch. I would reach my Sisters soon.

“Then let’s go, Captain.” I spread my arms wide. “Assuming you feel up to it, I’ve found a way out, and there’s no time to waste.”

“You mean you’re bringing me with you?” The snow stopped in a heartbeat.

“Of course.” I whirled around before I had to see his terrifying grin, and aiming for the stairs, I fastened the healer kit to my belt.

“I knew it!” Captain called after me.

I couldn’t help it. I paused at the bottom step and glanced back. “What did you know?”

And there it was: his smile. Although … it didn’t bother me as much this time.

“Admit it, Ryber Fortiza,” he declared with a twirling hand. “You do think I’m charming.”





Y2787 D106


MEMORIES

Lisbet returned from her Summoning today.

She appeared in the Grove as all Sisters do after meeting the Goddess, but there was something different about her. I sensed it the instant the rock slid back within the dolmen.

Power coursed off of her. It sent waves to dance upward through the dawn light. I do not think the other Sisters sensed it, for they do not work beside Sirmaya as I do. They are not accustomed to seeing Threads of power or sifting through them to grab hold.

Lisbet walked tranquilly toward me, her gait as smooth as that of the dancers whom the Exalted Ones so love to watch at midwinter.

Her eyes were more silver than I’ve ever seen. Almost transparent.

She strutted right past Sister Nadya, who always greets new Sightwitch Sisters, and came for me instead.

I must admit, I was frightened. I feared the power this little girl possessed, and I feared that somehow her time with Sirmaya had changed her.

But as soon as she reached me, she flung her arms around my waist and hugged, hugged, hugged. I melted to my knees and towed her in more tightly.

“We missed you,” I whispered to her while the other Sisters watched. No one made a move to stop us, and Nadya looked more puzzled than upset.

“I know,” Lisbet said simply. Then she drew back until our eyes met. Hers almost hurt to stare into.

So bright.

“I must gather things, Dysi, and I will need your help to do it. A map, your flint pouch, and healing supplies. We must place them in your workshop. Then you must build two new tools for me. A viewing glass that will allow us to see the past lives of the Paladins.”

“And what else?” I pressed.

“A blade for killing them.”

Gooseflesh prickled down my arms. I did not question for a moment that what she commanded did indeed need doing. Her words were not those of a child but of ancient, all-knowing truth.

However, I did ask, “Why, Lisbet? What have you seen?”

“I saw the last Sightwitch Sister go into the mountain. In a thousand years, she will pass through the halls with a Paladin at her side. We must prepare a path for her, Dysi, and we must get everything ready so she will not be lost.”

“A thousand years.” The words tasted like fire. They seemed to dry my throat just from the uttering.

Yes, Sightwitches lived in the future, but never—never—had I heard of a Sightwitch seeing so far ahead.

The chill bumps on my arms spread to my neck. “Why must we do it now, Lisbet? Why not ten years from now?”

“Because,” she said, a sudden smile flashing over her face—so at odds with the words that came next—“none of us will be here in ten years, Dysi.” She slid her hand into mine, and added, “Can we go see Cora now, please? Her throat should be all better, and she’s been asking for us.”





3(?) hours left to find Tanzi—

Having company made the journey much better.

There.

I wrote it because it’s true: having company made the journey better.

Yes, I was worried about Tanzi and the Sisters. Yes, I was trying to keep track of time’s passage as best I could. And yes, I constantly had to hurry Captain along. But it was nice not to be alone.

Captain was fascinated by everything. He asked a thousand questions, like some newly arrived Serving Sister to the Convent.

In fact, just as I had with many a new Sister, I had to explain who the Sightwitches were, what our mission was, and why I was inside the mountain at all.

I told him everything. About our benevolent Goddess Sirmaya, about the Rules and the glamour, about how I had been the only Sister left. I told him that, despite thirteen years here, I’d never been Summoned inside the mountain.

He was so easy to talk to, and for a man with an injured chest and no memories, he was a surprisingly good listener. His sympathetic grunts and occasional oaths sounded genuine, and the sudden snow that fluttered around us made me think he truly felt my plight.

“How do you speak Nubrevnan so well?” he asked at one point as we tromped down a square stairwell marked on the map as simply The Way Below and with a little 34 scribbled next to it.

Thank the Sleeper there were Firewitched lanterns to light our way since I’d lost my own when I’d lost the pack. They winked into power without any command. We would reach ten paces away and whoof! the next lantern would flash to life.

“We learn all the languages of the Witchlands,” I explained. Step, step, step. “We begin by learning songs, so that the melodies help stick new syllables and sounds into our minds.”

“Let me guess. You started with ‘The Maidens North of Lovats.’”

“It was the third song, actually.” I glanced back, impressed. “How did you guess?”

“Because ‘blighter’ isn’t a real word—and you’ve used it twice now.”

“Not a real word? Then why is it in the song?”

“I don’t know. For rhythm’s sake, perhaps?” And then, absolutely unbidden, he splayed a graceful hand to his chest—the unharmed part—and began to sing. “The Maidens north of Lovats, none ever looked so fair—”

“No!” I swung around, palms rising. “No singing! Who knows what creatures are in here that you might wake up?”