Arabel lead the way into the barn, where the rest of the team jumped to attention. The mercenary Dansot, closest to the entrance, paused with his sword half-drawn. A swarthy man with thick stubble, black armour and mean eyes, he glared from Arabel to Caracae as they entered. He asked, “She’s in, then?”
“She has reserved her judgement, for now,” Caracae answered for Arabel, continuing past him. Arabel gave Dansot an apologetic look.
The others were spread out between the hay and stalls: the knight Grawn at the centre, in half his armour, with the monster hunter, Eko Brite, standing by the lantern to his side, and Harper, the lanky young female thief, further back, leaning against a wooden partition. Caracae said, “An interesting gathering. Who’s in charge?”
Their eyes ran to Arabel, not entirely agreeably, and the witch gave her another sinister smile. It troubled Arabel even more now she knew what those lips were capable of. She tried not to recall the man’s legs kicking as he was sucked into her mouth. Blinking the memory away, she hurriedly said, “Baron Ratcel the Third assigned me, yes. Because of my background in Nidings Studies. This is Grawn, my royal bodyguard; Eko Brite, one of the finest hunters in all of the Clear Valley; Harper and Dansot, our technical experts.”
“Blackguards,” Grawn said in a low, disapproving tone.
“People who get jobs done,” Dansot snapped back, pacing past Caracae to join the others. “And I’m a damn soldier, I’d appreciate you not lump me in with the fucking thief. Now, what is this? You brought the witch without even striking an agreement?”
“Someone had to escort her back,” Caracae said. “Some men tried to accost her, which I’m surprised you allowed to happen.”
Grawn stepped towards Arabel with concern, but she lifted a hand to say leave it. He glowered at the witch.
“Considering her vulnerability,” Caracae continued, “I felt a responsibility to at least check what you intended for her next. A journey into the Nidings, she said, so presumably you’re all looking to sacrifice yourselves to the thundresses?”
“There’ll be no sacrifices,” Grawn said. “That’s the whole point.”
“You won’t get any sympathy from the witch,” Eko came in. The monster hunter was a relatively short but stocky woman, with wild wiry hair, a faded black leather waistcoat and a tattered hat. She had an enormous sword sheathed at her hip, thicker than her muscular thigh, and she had been almost as unenthusiastic about enlisting a palm witch as Dansot. She said, “The witch’s got more in common with the giants than she does with us.”
“If you’re referring to the malicious rumours that witches eat people,” Caracae said, “I don’t make it my main diet. Nor do I raid villages or squash people without a very good reason.”
The witch made it sound like a joke, but Arabel knew she was actually capable of it, now. By the way the others watched Caracae, they did, too. Though few people ever saw magic users at work, everyone had heard of friends of friends who had fallen foul of some witch or another. It was known magic users could regenerate power quickest by draining it from living people, though the Kingdom of Claenlic had laws against such things. Still, with the legends of palm witches’ ability to shrink people, their method was especially feared. Arabel tried to redirect: “Actually, witches and giants eat people for very different reasons. Although it’s rumoured the thundresses were once of magical stock. They were revered, centuries ago, in fact; people willingly gave sacrifices to them. There’s nothing spiritual about it now, though; human meat is simply what they consider a balanced diet.”
“Oh here we go,” Dansot groaned. “Knew we’d get lectures eventually. All we need to know, scholar, is where to go and what to kill. Keep your witch-sympathies to yourself.”
“Well, I would like to know a little more,” Caracae said, watching Arabel playfully, wanting to keep her talking in front of a reluctant audience. “Start at the beginning, why don’t you? You sound like you respect the thundresses.”
“I don’t know,” Arabel said. “How couldn’t you respect something that powerful? They stand as tall as two hundred feet and are known for their beauty and strength. They were called Priestesses of Thunder until the first Baron Ratcet campaigned to drive the monsters out of the Clear Valley, drawing a line between us and them. Back then, of course, it wasn’t called the Clear Valley, and was awash with monsters, but ironically the villages themselves were safer. Populations thrived through giving tribute, rather than succumbing to random raids. They worked together.”
“Just as long as you were willing to feed the giants with people you loved,” Eko said.
Arabel pushed her glasses up her nose, aware from their vaguely listening looks that she’d slipped into telling them things they probably mostly knew. But she continued anyway, “People are still getting eaten. The Thundress Tribe have increasingly encroached on the Clear Valley in the last few years, sometimes clearing out entire villages. And now . . .” She caught the witch’s eye. The major detail, which should’ve been kept quiet, was already out.
Caracae said, “They’ve threatened the princess and the Baron sees her freedom valuable enough to give a witch the Rake Stone?”
Arabel felt the upset gaze of her companions on her, their past arguments hanging unspoken between them. They weren’t all aware of exactly what the Rake Stone was, but they knew that if the Baron thought it would persuade a witch to join them, then it was dangerous. Arabel knew it well enough: it was an ancient artefact that would boost any magic user’s energy, removing their restraints. Eko thought it foolish to entertain a witch with such possibilities; Dansot found it offensive they should entertain a witch at all. But no one spoke up now, so Arabel quietly continued, “What I’ve told you, and am about to tell you, has to stay between us.”
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“Give me some credit,” Caracae said. “I am a palm witch; discretion is in my nature.”
“About a week ago, Princess Vivaria was kidnapped,” Arabel said. “She was on a charitable mission, distributing aid through the Clear Valley and shoring up relations with the outlying towns, when her convoy was attacked by three thundresses. One man escaped – was allowed to escape – to report to the palace. Vivaria’s honour guard were all killed or captured. The giants even” – Arabel stumbled at the detail – “ate some of them during the attack. Shortly after, the king received a message demanding the cession of valley lands to the Thundress Queen, Serin, or the princess would be killed. He has until the new moon to comply.”
“Five more days,” Caracae calculated.
“And seeing that it happened on his land,” Harper spoke up for the first time, with amusement in her tone, “the Baron’s rightly concerned that if he doesn’t resolve this himself, his head will be on the block.”
“But if the giants get even the slightest idea we’re trying to recover the princess,” Grawn said, “then the princess will be in danger.”
Caracae considered this carefully, then said, “So the baron threw together his most expendable assets to run a suicide mission to Mount Blackpoint, which the king can claim full ignorance of when it all goes wrong. Splendid.”
“Didn’t I tell you she’d be a thorn?” Dansot snarled. “Useless negative energy from palm witches. You’re wasting your breath.”
Arabel shot him a warning look, well aware that the mercenary would rather they didn’t persuade Caracae at all. She said, “If you help us recover the princess, your reward will be the Rake Stone.”
“Which you just assume, as a witch, I have an interest in,” Caracae said.
“It’d be better for all of us if you don’t,” Eko said. “Whatever you’re capable of, I think we’re all at least partway hoping you’ll just walk away. No offence.”
“Fully understandable.” Caracae smiled back, giving Arabel another uneasy feeling. “After all, the baron must have little hope of you all returning, so I can’t imagine there being many repercussions if I were to kill you myself, on the way. Save you the trouble of travelling all that way into the mountains.”
Eko narrowed her eyes and Dansot made an angry noise, as though readying for a fight, to say, “And why would you want to do that?”
“She’s joking, of course,” Arabel cut in quickly. Then she addressed Caracae. “You’re a lawful citizen of the Valley, Caracae. A registered palm witch. You value the rule of Claenlic Law, don’t you?”
“As if a palm witch can value anything but themselves,” Dansot said.
“I did my research,” Arabel said, retreading old ground, this time for Caracae’s benefit, “and she is one of the most respected witches in the Clear Valley. She wouldn’t step outside the bounds of law unjustly – she’s earned her place in the realm.”
“Oh, you flatterer,” Caracae said, amused. “But yes, I suppose I’m guilty as charged. But the law can be flexible, you know? The further you go into the Clear Valley, the less it matters. But never mind.” She waved a hand. “What’s your plan?”
“We take the Silt Pass as far as Whisper River,” Grawn said. “Then use the slave network to reach the Thunder Tribe.”
“It’s a series of small paths used by the tribe’s captured humans,” Arabel explained. “Those trusted enough to have freedom of movement. It runs alongside the giants’ paths, but is hidden enough to travel safely.”
“And you think you can sneak into their village and take princess away?” Caracae asked.
“Harper is a master of subtlety,” Arabel said, “and in the worst case, Eko has killed giants before. But you would be our ultimate fallback.” Arabel shifted, uneasy now that she knew the witch’s powers were true. “I proposed to the baron that a palm witch could change the giants’ sizes. People were sceptical, but I thought it worth pursuing. Given that the giants’ biggest strength is their scale, it seemed our most powerful weapon would be someone who can take that away.”
“Ah.”
“It’s stupid,” Dansot said. “Honestly think she’s capable of a thing like that?”
“Would you like a demonstration?” Caracae raised a hand and he stepped back.
“Stop!” Arabel cried. “She can. I’ve seen her do it.” They all went quiet, as they tied that back to the witch’s mention of Arabel being accosted. No one asked the results, and Arabel continued, “What do you say, Caracae? Will you help us?”
Caracae was quiet, either considering it or just dragging it out to upset Arabel. Her hand went to the pouch where she had stored the shrunken thug, fingers stroking thoughtfully over it. Arabel watched the material for a twitch from the trapped man, and knew her other companions’ concerns were valid. Once they were away from the major protections of the realm, what was to stop the witch capturing any one of them the same way? But they were all dangerous, in their own way. Except for Arabel.
“My power has limitations,” Caracae said. “Before you get any ideas. I have the gift of constriction, yes. I can manipulate anything that I can fit” – she held her hands out towards Eko, as though to cup the woman in them – “between my palms.”
“Fucking cut that out,” Eko said and the witch smiled, dropping her hands.
“But it comes at a cost. The energy required to shrink a giant would leave me powerless and vulnerable. It could take days to recover, unless I drew my energy from another person. Which would probably upset your sensibilities.” She directed that at Dansot, who glared back unpleasantly. “That said, I’m nothing if not adaptable. I do enjoy travelling and you seem like such a friendly bunch – you’ve got me curious.”
“Really?” Arabel said with surprise. The “friendly” comment was sarcastic, but the witch sounded genuinely intrigued.
“You are serious about the Rake Stone? Where is it?” the witch asked, the main source of her curiosity. Of course, they were all, really, mercenaries: only Grawn was here for the sake of honour.
“Baron Ratcel’s keep. Where it’s been for three years,” Arabel said. “Since it was recovered from the Vine Caves.”
“It would help a lot if you gave it to me before we went,” Caracae said.
“Not a chance in hell,” Eko snapped. “What the baron does once we’re through is his problem, but I’ll be far away from this witch before she has a chance to touch that thing.”
“Just a suggestion,” Caracae said. “Well. I suppose it will wait. If that’s all, when do we leave?”
Arabel took a moment to get over the surprise: the witch was accepting the terms? Dansot gave a huffed curse. Grawn watched Arabel with unhappy deference, and Harper merely smiled. Arabel put on a happy face. She’d put together a full team, which had seemed an impossible task itself; to include a palm witch raised their chances considerably. She said, “I guess we’ll set out at first light?”