Aalis lurched backwards from Judd, gasping for air as though she had been holding it for hours. Her vision was blurry, her body was quaking and her stomach rolled in violent, warning waves. Aalis staggered to her feet and stumbled blindly to the main hut then out through the bead curtain to throw up over the side of the railing into the murky green water below. She retched until she was weak and empty, clinging to the railing, shaking like a leaf in a brisk autumn breeze.

“By Astaril…what…what was that…” She wheezed.

“A vision,” she started and looked at the woman she had dubbed the shaman of the tribe of female witches, “given to you by the blessing of the bite.”

“Blessing…” Aalis wiped at her mouth. “That…was a nightmare!”

“No,” the shaman grasped her arm with strength that belied her slender frame, “it was a glimpse of the future!”

“No!” Aalis stepped back. “No, it cannot be!”

“The women of my tribe seek such a vision. They pursue it, desperate for a glimpse of that which was bestowed upon you!”

“You cannot be serious!”

The shaman gazed at her with glittering eyes. “You have no comprehension of the depth of power you touched the edge of. Yes it torments us but it also enlightens and elevates us. Only those born of this tribe, conditioned to the bite of the future teller have endured the visions…until you.” Aalis wanted to shy away from her knowing eyes, the way that seemed to strip the layers of privacy from her heart, exposing her with brutal cruelty. “Who was your mother?”

Aalis shook her head. “No…my mother had nothing to do with this…with any of you!”

“You are either a liar…or you do not know.” The shaman lifted her chin. “Do you want to know?”

Aalis blinked. “I…I know who my mother was.”

“Then the secret may be hidden deep within your past, so deep only the high priestess could reveal it. And she wishes to meet you.”

Aalis swallowed. “The high priestess wishes to meet me?” The shaman smiled, revealing yellow, pointed teeth. “I…I should ask…”

“None of your men may accompany you. They have their uses but the high priestess will only meet with women…and it is you and you alone that she has called into her presence.” The shaman’s eyes lowered. “Even I, who inherited my place from my mother, have never been called for by name…yet you are summoned, Aalis.”

Aalis’ skin prickled so painfully that she rubbed her skin, trying to get her goose bumps to recede. The shaman began to walk away as though already knowing that Aalis would follow her.

“I am not sure…”

“She can tell you why you can feel the mood of the forest, the state of the water…the grief in the ground…”

“And my dreams? When I was a child? The voices?” The shaman nodded and continued to walk.

Aalis glanced inside at the hut then bolted after the shaman before she could disappear into the labyrinth of the village.

It was not long before dawn and there was finally a brief reprieve from the insects that never seemed to land. The torches illuminating the village had died low and even the chanting of the women was silent. The mangrove swamp wasn’t nearly as close as it had been, stretches of sky opening up above. The shaman led Aalis along a swing bridge to a raised stone path. The air was cool and a soft, dark blue that was lightening gradually.

“Your high priestess,” Aalis brushed willow tendrils aside, “she can see the future?”

“The future sight is within us,” the shaman touched her chest, “but the high priestess can tell us what it means.”

“She does not live in the village?”

The shaman gave a soft laugh. “She does not.”

Aalis licked her lips. “Does…she commune with Maul?”

The shaman stopped and turned to Aalis with condescension in her eyes. “You speak with the knowledge of flawed, weak men who know nothing about us. The high priestess broke with Maul many, many years ago, when my great grandmother’s great grandmother was a child. Since then, she has guided us with her wisdom.”

Aalis nodded, hoping she seemed suitably admonished. The shaman continued to walk and Aalis noticed that there were more and more stone ruins and debris protruding from the water.

“What is this place?”

“An old world power that sank into the swamp…or was consumed by it.” The shaman seemed amused by this knowledge. “Man thought himself wise to build a fortress on such poor foundations and in the end, it ended him.”

The shaman led Aalis to what she guessed was the throne room of the ruined fortress. A stone throne, sitting upon a dais, reached by skipping across several stones. In front of the throne was a large expanse of green water, covered with lilies, lily pads and moss. There were a number of pillars, in various degrees of brokenness, giving a vague indication of just how large the former king of the fortress’ throne room had been.

“Sit.” The shaman gestured.

“Me? Sit there?” The shaman nodded and Aalis picked across the stepping stones, grasping the edge of the throne. The atmosphere was so peaceful and calm that Aalis wasn’t sure what it was she was supposed to be afraid of. The leaves shivered with the first touches of sun that started to cast across the land, sending streaks of light across the water.

Aalis eased herself into the throne. She looked at the shaman. “What do I do now?”

The shaman smiled. Abruptly vines shot out of the water and flung themselves across Aalis, wrapped around her, pinning her to the throne.

“Stop! Let me go!” She kicked and squirmed but the vines held her tightly. “Help me!” She cried to the shaman. “Please!”

“The high priestess has granted you an audience…”

Aalis opened her mouth to protest when she was suddenly aware of a bubbling in the middle of the pool of water in front of her. The moss was scattered and the lilies were pushed to the outer edges as something large began to surface. Water erupted off the top of it and waves surged violently, bashing themselves against the pillars, washing up against the dais, soaking Aalis’ feet and skirts. She closed her eyes and turned her face, keeping her mouth shut.

When the waters began to settle Aalis, despite her heart thundering in her breast, peeked at what had surfaced…

…and screamed so loud birds took flight.

A green ball, large enough to fill the space of the throne room, had risen into view, covered with slime, barnacles and leafy debris. And then the green split across the middle and drew back, a giant eyeball exposed beneath, staring at her. Its iris was the colour of pale grey stone with shifting hues of lavender and blue across its unnatural expanse and its pupil was as large as Aalis’ head.

Aalis strained and pulled but she could not break free.

“This was a mistake! This was such a big mistake!”

“Gairil Palaidin nee Aalis,” Aalis paused, hearing the shaman speak yet in a voice that was unlike hers, “your arrival is unexpected. I calculated that you became deceased in the year of the eighth alignment.” Aalis looked over at the shaman, surprise overriding her fright. The shaman was standing stiffly, her head cocked to one side and to Aalis’ crawling horror, a plant, probably one similar to that which bit Judd, had sunk its fangs into her neck. Its stem curled around her arm and drifted down into the water where the eyeball stared without blinking.

“What…are you speaking through the shaman?”

“She is my mouthpiece.”

Aalis felt sick as the fangs dug deeper, blood trickling down the shaman’s neck. “Let her go.”

“She is willing and even welcomes my control.” The waters had stopped thrashing and now only the movement of the giant eye caused ripples in the water.

Aalis licked her lips and swallowed hard. “Why…why did you call me Gairil?”

The eye studied her and Aalis’ spine seemed to recoil from its gaze. “Your genetic likeness, though uncanny, is flawed. Initial assessment is flawed. You are Aalis.” Aalis shivered, her name spoken in an accent that was both grating yet familiar. She wanted to strain against the tendrils that held her but her need to know overruled her need for freedom.

“The shaman tells me you can make sense of my vision.”

“You see the future…you see the end…long has it been in coming and long have I waited…”

Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

“What do you mean the end?” Aalis stammered. “It…it was horrific! Humans and monsters dead…”

“Extermination of the enemy is the primary goal.”

“Wha…monsters too? But…you are a creature of Maul,” Aalis paused, “are you not?”

The eyeball glared at her, the pupil narrowing. “I am birthed of Ekidna but I broke from her command many decades ago.”

“Ekidna?”

“The mother of Maul.”

Aalis stared at the eyeball, her fear retreating. “It has a consciousness?” The notion was overwhelming. “But…we thought…it is a mountain that reached down too deep into the earth and monsters climbed out of the pit…”

“How small and petty have you become, Gairil!” The shaman lamented and the eyeball’s pupil shrank down to strike Aalis with a merciless stare. “You were once the Alpha! The head!”

“What? No! I was never anything!” Aalis insisted. “You have me confused with someone else!”

The eyeball gave her an eyeroll. “Do you not feel the touch of the air, the state of the water…the pain in your friend…the poison in his veins…” Sweat began to trickle down Aalis’ forehead as she started to pant. “Before you reached adolescence…could you not hear voices in your head?”

“Stop it…” Aalis whispered. “Please…”

“You cannot hide from what you are!”

“I am nothing! No one!”

“Their fears, their woes…their grief?”

Aalis sobbed. “Please…please stop!”

“Denying it does not change the fact.”

Tears joined the sweat streaking across Aalis’ cheeks.

“I am not who you think I am!” She screamed at the eyeball, slumping forwards, trying to catch her breath. She wheezed and coughed, forcing herself to breathe through her nose and out through her mouth.

Nothing was said and Aalis’ scream had long been absorbed by the mangroves and deadened by the water when she finally lifted her head, sunlight striking the pool, sparkles of luminous light dazzling her eyes.

“No you are not,” the eyeball tilted slightly and the eyelid narrowed, studying her, “and you are also not Gairil,” Aalis shivered in relief, “however, your resemblance is far too similar and Ekidna may fall for your authority just as I almost did…” Dread began to form in Aalis as clouds passed overhead, blotting out the sun. The iris of the high priestess began to darken and its pupil dilated. “It would be better to eliminate you as a threat,” Aalis gulped, a vine snaking around her neck, pinning her against the throne, tightening with murderous intent, “for while I no longer hear Ekidna’s commands, we are still connected…and what befalls her will befall all her children…”

Aalis couldn’t breathe and her vision was going dark. She let out a pathetic whimper, knowing she was about to die…

…when the vine around her neck relaxed.

Aalis coughed and wheezed, dragging air into her lungs down her ragged throat. “Why,” she croaked, “why?”

“Because…there is another way…a way for me to see beyond this swamp and across the territory of the enemy.”

“Enemy…” Aalis’ speech was lost in a rasped whisper.

“You will become my eyes, my ears…my will.” Water began to bubble in front of the eyeball and pushing up through its surface was a long, snaking tendril that curled its way towards Aalis, a tiny bulb at its very tip. Aalis watched in horror as the bulb gave a squirm, splitting in half, revealing an eyeball no bigger than the head of a pin. It wriggled and writhed, straining towards her. “I will be with you…”

Aalis pulled and strained but the vines tightened until she was sure she would be riddled with bruises and the one around her neck made sure her head could not move.

“No,” she squeaked pathetically as the little eyeball danced merrily, coming closer and closer, aiming for her ear, “no!”

“I will be in you and I will ensure Ekidna’s triumph…and my own survival!”

Aalis could almost feel the stroking of the vine against her cheek, the gnawing at her ear…the burrowing into her brain…

…when the shaman screamed as the eyeball lurched backwards, an arrow sunk deep into its pupil. It writhed and thrashed, more vines trying to swat at the arrow and pull it free.

“Aalis!” Judd roared, leaping to the dais, bringing his sword down, severing the vines, sending the tiny eyeball flying into the turbulent waters of the pool where the pillars were tumbling, bashed apart by the agonised eyeball, stone blocks flying like deadly hailstones. He hacked and cut until she was free and pulled her to her feet.

“Judd, I am so sorry…”

“Run!”

They bolted from the dais, passing the shaman who was screaming curses at them, clutching at her own eyes as if she had been the one who was struck. Judd held onto Aalis’ hand as they ran past Verne who let loose several more arrows before following them, keeping to the old castle ruins and then to the swing bridge.

“Stay out of the water!” Aalis cried.

“You don’t need to tell me that!” Judd yelled back, vines appearing out of the swamp, whipping the air, smashing down on the bridge before and behind them. He stabbed and hacked until their path was clear, making for the village.

“Come on!” Caste yelled, standing on a platform with all of their swags gathered around him. He heaved his own onto his back and started running, each of them grabbing a pack and following him just as the tribe of women began to howl and screech. “Seriously, run!”

“Where are we going?” Judd pushed against several women who were trying to block their path, knocking them into the water, the vines grasping at them, pulling them under.

“I’m just following her!” Caste pointed at the little girl they had saved only yesterday.

“Her?” Verne leapt nimbly over slapping vines. “She led us here!”

“Oh sure,” despite running for his life, Caste’s tone was still dripping with sarcasm, “when Judd wants to follow the savage witch girl, you’re all, hey, let’s go for it! But when I want to…”

“Shut up and run!”

The combined weight of them and the women who were still chasing them caused the swing bridge to sag dangerously low, scraping the top of the water. At the end Judd leapt aside, waited for Aalis and Verne to pass him and severed the ropes from the mangroves. The swing bridge immediately sank into the water and the women splashed about helplessly as the vines grabbed at them, slapping about blindly, unable to tell friend from foe.

Judd ran after the other three and their little guide. She didn’t stop for an hour, her lithe little body leading them at a constant frantic pace until they reached semi solid ground. Even then she danced about nervously until there was a kind of mangrove root wall between them and where they were headed. They had to climb over it, falling to the other side where, for the first time in nearly three days, there was open land ahead as the mangroves finally gave up their stranglehold.

Not until there was dry ground beneath their feet, waving grasses and a complete open sky above did the five of them stop. In truth, four of them collapsed, the little girl somewhat amused by their exhaustion.

Aalis slumped over her pack, her fingers covering her face, her shoulders shaking.

“Aalis,” Judd used whatever drop of energy he had left to shuffle over to her, “Aalis? Did that thing hurt you?”

She sniffed and shook her head.

“What did it want?” Verne asked.

“I hardly know…”

“I don’t think we should stay here.” Caste announced.

“I thought you would have welcomed a rest.” Judd moaned.

“Our guide seems to be insisting on us moving.”

She was gesturing furiously at them. Judd moaned and used his sword to prop him to his feet then helped Aalis to rise. He favoured his injured leg but waved aside her concerns, assuring Aalis that he was much recovered. They followed at a pace only slightly faster than walking, crossing a stream of clear water which they drank deeply of and none questioned its cleanliness. From there it was a short trek to a tiny farmstead where two men were plucking heads of grain.

“Papa!” The little girl cried.

One of the men spun around and dropped what he was doing.

“Iesha!” He yelled and ran towards her, picking her up into his arms and swinging her around. “You came back! Oh my little girl…you came back!” He held her tightly to his chest and sobbed without care.

“I don’t believe it…” The other man shook his head. “She…it’s been years!”

“I told you, Hal, never give up hope.” The father kissed his daughter’s smudged and stained cheeks and she beamed brightly at him then pointed at the four travellers. “You,” the father approached them, “you brought my little girl home?”

“I think it’s more accurate to say she brought us.” Judd admitted.

“We were lost in the swamp. Your daughter got us out.” Verne explained.

“Brave girl.” Aalis said softly and Iesha grinned.

“Please, please come and allow us to look after you.”

The food was more than edible, even by Caste’s standards and the two men, Hal and Falin, bestowed upon them their own brewed cider.

“The last of the season,” Hal warned as Judd gulped at it then coughed, “it’s got a good kick to it.”

“I can feel it warming me down to my toes.” Judd chuckled, putting his stein down. “This is a strange place for a farmstead, with the mangrove swamp so near…or is that on purpose?”

Hal and Falin both nodded. “We have both suffered losses to that swamp and the tribe of witches.” Falin explained, gently pulling out the sticks and leaves from Iesha’s hair as she munched happily on toasted bread. “I knew the stories of the witches but believed the willowy woman who seduced me was sincere in her declarations of love. But when she was confirmed to be with child, she left.”

“She must have cared for you a little,” Hal reassured Falin, “or else she would not have told your daughter about you.”

“And you set out traps to catch her?” Verne asked.

“Traps?” Hal and Falin looked at each other. “What traps?”

Aalis closed her eyes. “The witches set the traps, to catch Iesha so that she could not return to her father…”

“Oh my girl…” Falin attempted to brush her tangled, matted hair. Iesha wiggled contentedly.

“And despite being free…you took us back to your village,” Judd mused, “because you knew that’s where I stood the best chance of being healed?” Iesha nodded. “Brave girl indeed.”

“What about you?” Caste asked Hal who cut some slices of meat from the spit. “Why stay here? For Falin and his daughter?”

“No,” Hal said sadly, “unfortunately my situation can never be resolved. You see, my wife and I were travelling to Fort Bastil and we passed too close to the swamp. For whatever reason, the witches decided she was better off in their coven than with me so they kidnapped her. And I did not see her for nearly two years.”

“But you did see her again?”

Hal stood up and went to a room in the farmstead, easing open the door. Inside was a woman on a low bed in the midst of a delirious sleep. Her pale blonde hair was damp from sweat and in a tangle beneath her head as she moaned and whimpered, his fingers clutching at the straw stuffed mattress beneath her.

“It was the happiest day in the world when she returned to me…but it seemed she could not escape their clutches completely for she endures fitting and delirium frequently. And the farther from the swamp we go, the worse it gets.”

“It is possible that what the witches do to themselves makes the women dependent upon something in the air or water.” Aalis said softly.

Hal looked at her with hope in his eyes. “Are you a healer?” She nodded. “Please…I have consulted every physician and healer I have heard of and none have been able to relieve my wife’s suffering. Is there anything you can do?”

Aalis hesitated. Judd put his hand on her arm. “Aalis,” he said gently, “you are exhausted and emotional…”

“I would like to try.” Aalis stood up and entered the room, closing the door behind her. She gazed at the woman who could not have been aware of her presence but who barred her teeth at Aalis as though sensing a threat to the possession of its soul. “I know you now,” she said firmly but quietly, not to the woman but to the thing that writhed inside of her, “and I know what you do…and I swear, for the lies you have visited upon those women for generations and the control you have affected over them, I will never let another to suffer it…not while I have any say in the matter.”

She put her hands on the woman’s forehead and closed her eyes.

It was different to when Judd had been poisoned and Aalis had drawn it out of his veins. That poison had leapt into her, sensing a female host. This time there was reluctance and engrained strongholds of addiction and conditioning. But Aalis was determined, made so by the horrific fright and threat of what she had endured. Her mouth turned down and her brow furrowed as the woman jerked and convulsed, hissing and panting through her gritted teeth.

“No more.” Aalis commanded. “You will submit,” she licked her lips, “by the order of Gairil Palaidin.”

The woman’s body arched mightily and for a moment Aalis wondered if she would snap in two when she sagged back onto the mattress. Aalis lifted her hands away, coughed and spluttered, spitting the darkness out of her body. Instead of dispersing onto the ground, it collected together, forming a dark green, slimy wriggling tendril. Aalis stood up and without hesitation, crushed it beneath her heel.

“Thank you…” She looked at the woman who gazed at her with clear soft brown eyes. “Who are you?”

Aalis gazed at her, doubt creeping into her heart. “I…do not know anymore.”