XXVIII. Kindness
The witch laughed.
This third instance of
her laughter was less pleasant than the first two—the sound itself was like
silver chimes, soft and clear, but they were the warnings of an approaching
storm or a terrible gust of wind, the chimes that signal the beginning of a
funerary procession, the solemn tinkling to accompany rites of memorial at
cairns and coffins. The laughter bespoke something entirely unwelcome and cold.
Thomas persisted. “I’m
serious,” he said, taking a step forward, calming Elwood with a hand on the
shaggy dog’s neck, pausing while Cathán and Avery returned to their customary
positions on his shoulders. “I’m here to show you kindness. And it won’t cost
you anything to hear me out, will it? I’ve brought the four objects as part of
our bargain. I hope that means you’ll release Eleanor, as we agreed. I hope
that you won’t attack Mídhel or curse us or cause any further damage or harm. I
just want my sister back, and I want to go home and enjoy the sunshine with my
family and friends. But either way, along my journey I’ve learned that I’ve got
a different purpose than coming here to fight you or bring some kind of
justice.”
The witch appeared to
consider these words. Finally she nodded, a single slow movement, a bare
inclination of her head. The silver pendant swung forward and back. Thomas
noticed that the flowers of the tree had bloomed further and that the serpent
had removed its fangs from the trunk.
“I will hear your
words,” said the witch.
“You already know the
story of my adventure, and the details of how I collected the four objects. You
know how I received a great deal of help from lots of friends—old ones and new
ones. But I want to tell the story again, and this time I want to focus on how
I was shown kindness throughout the past week. Those I encountered were
exceptionally kind to me, helping me even with my mistakes.”
Thomas reached up to
scratch Cathán’s furry head. “My friend Cathán was kind to me in the woods,
even when I didn’t know anything about fighting boars or mouse-sized dragon or
being an adventurer. I was just scared and lost. He was kind to me. He made me
feel that I was more than I really was. His people were kind as well, giving me
food and shelter, giving me a community to trust, welcoming me in.
“Avery was kind to me
next. His good jokes and humor helped lighten some of the burden of losing my
sister. And he kept me laughing and smiling and entertained, even when the
journey was difficult. All his words had a purpose—some were good distractions,
some were good lessons, and some were boasts outright that no one could
possibly believe. And yet I’m not sure if Avery ever even lied to me. He has
been very kind to accompany me, especially later at Palewater Bog—especially
when he has no reason to care about me or my sister beyond the passing
curiosity of a boy walking through the woods.”
Thomas stroked one of
Avery’s glistening black feathers. “Brak was kind to me. He didn’t eat me, for
one thing. He also didn’t cover up the dangers of trying to retrieve the acorn
from the middle of a war. He also decided to help me despite his better
judgment; I can think of nothing but kindness that would describe such a
decision. So too was Énna the Red of the golden eagles kind to me, and Glasna
River-warden of the Vathca, and all the others we encountered in the Grimgrove.
They showed kindness by listening to me, by giving my words credence even
though I was just some human boy from far outside their domain, and even though
I was persuading them to do something against all instinct and tradition. They
were kind even then.”
Thomas patted Elwood on
the top of his head and tangled his fingers in the dog’s fur. “Elwood has been
kind to me. He left his master for me; and that can’t have been an easy
decision, even knowing Saf’s nature. Elwood had shown me unabashed love and
friendliness during our time together, following after or going on before even
when I know he wonders why I’m doing what I’m doing. He’s been kind just by
being with me.
“Sir Elbarion granted
me the kindness of his sword and his solid presence and the lichen from his
ribs. Finlay too has been kind, by showing us to the forbidden grotto and
feeding and sheltering us and providing us with insight and good company. I
wouldn’t be here without him, and not just in the matter of finding the
speckled shell. Ableil and Gilroy were kind to me—by listening, by relenting,
by sacrificing. Even some others I’ve met along the way have been kind without
realizing it. Saf, for all his menace, led me to the tomb and the lichen. Anna
the serpent-witch granted Gilroy his voice back. The unwitting boar provided us
with a bit of his tusk. He wasn’t trying to be kind, but it was kindness
anyway, wasn’t it?”
Thomas looked back and
smiled at Eleanor. “I’ve been helped by a few living humans, as well—Master Dún,
Mother and Father, Alice the apothecary—but especially Eleanor. Even though she
was trapped here for a long week while I was away journeying, trapped because
of my own foolishness, the thought of being reunited with her and the memory of
good experiences we’ve shared were in themselves a kindness. I wouldn’t have
had such adventures without the lessons I’d already learned from Eleanor in
weeks and months past. I’ve not always been the best brother, nor she the
perfect sister; but we love each other, and that is a great kindness indeed.”
Eleanor smiled back,
tears on her transparent cheeks.
Thomas turned his
attention back to the witch, who watched him impassively. “All of these people
were kind to me and to my friends. They’ve shown me that kindness is perhaps
the most important lesson of them all. We all make mistakes, and we all need
kindness. I’ve had a fair helping of both. I’ve learned that kindness has a
power unrivaled, a sort of magic all its own.
“So: I want to show you
kindness.” Thomas smiled at the witch now, and found it wasn’t a forced
expression. “I want to learn your name and your story, what you’ve lived and
lived through. I want to know what you need, and I want to try to help, if I
can. Kindness doesn’t excuse evil deeds, not on either end, but that doesn’t
mean you don’t merit some kindness anyway. Everyone does. I’m here to show it, particularly
because I don’t know that anyone else will. I’m hoping to get Eleanor back and
to have a chance to be kind, but I won’t fight you.”
The witch regarded
Thomas with undisguised surprise upon her countenance.
Elwood barked and
wagged his tail and licked Thomas’s hand. Thomas didn’t need anyone to
translate; the message was clear enough. Elwood looked up at the witch through
his shaggy mop of hair. Thomas thought the dog might’ve bounded forward and
licked the witch’s hands, too, if not for the lingering fear among all present.
Elwood contented himself instead with wagging his tail harder against Thomas’s
side.
“Aye, the dog speaks
right,” said Cathán, returning bow and arrow to his quiver. “We’re Thomas’s
friends, so we’ll follow his lead, especially when he does something brave and
noble and true. You have my kindness as well, if you need it. Cathán Caolán,
First Captain of the Thistledown Kingdom, should you require any assistance
from me or mine.” The Mouse Knight offered a little bow that brushed his
whiskers against Thomas’s neck and made the boy laugh.
Avery chirped and cawed
and clacked his beak, apparently in a sort of hesitant and thoughtful
agreement. “Thomas, of course, has learned all he knows about kindness from me,”
the raven said at last. “He’s kept my role to a minimum in the story at my
request, for I am far too modest to want anyone to praise me to publicly. As
you heard in the story, I was the kindest hero among them, even amid the parts
Thomas didn’t tell. So, I suppose I should be the first to offer you my
kindness as well, and I am sure that my companions have admirably followed this
example.” The raven stretched out his wings, pressing against the side of
Thomas’s head, and dropped his intelligent eyes to the ground, then back up at
the witch. “Alberich Sharpbeak of the Blackhill Clan, kindest of the ravens and
otherwise.”
“Me too,” said Eleanor
from just behind them. “I don’t—I’m not happy about—well, I think Thomas is
right that everyone makes mistakes and everyone needs kindness. So you have my
offer of kindness, as well. If I’m ever free to help you with something you
need, I’ll do it.”
Thomas had never felt
prouder of his sister or his friends, and he felt a great warmth settle into
his chest.
“You are a most curious
boy,” said the witch, tapping a slender finger against the silver pendant
hanging from her ear. “And perhaps you are a greater foe than I anticipated.”
“I just have wonderful
friends,” Thomas replied.
The witch watched him a
moment longer. He noticed that the snake was now coiled in a sleeping pile at
the foot of the tree on the witch’s pendant, and that the tree had grown
broader and brighter, shining even in the gray twilight of the North Road. In
fact, the grayness itself was shimmering, hints of yellow and white peeking in
like sunlight through the clouds.
The witch leaned
forward to collect the four talismans. She picked up the speckled shell first,
weighing it in her palm; then she closed her fist, and when it reopened, the
shell was gone. She chose the acorn next, raising it to her nose, inhaling
deeply, and then making it vanish. The witch tasted the lichen with the tip of
her tongue and scraped at the fragment of boar tusk with a pointed fingernail
before using her magic to secret each away in turn.
Then the witch
straightened, reached into the bodice of her lovely gown, and withdrew a long
silver needle. As before, she pricked her forefinger without balking, pulling
forth a large droplet of violet blood that quivered atop the skin for a moment.
The witch turned over her hand and let the blood fall. Where it spattered on
the gray road sprang color, the blood revealing the brown earth of the real
world, the dirt and rutted tracks of wagons, the smashed orange-yellow of a
fallen leaf in autumn.
The colors quickly
spread, flowing in all directions as though the droplet of blood had stained a
scrap of gray cloth, returning the world to its natural state.
The witch stepped
toward Eleanor and pricked her finger again. This droplet of blood fell at
Eleanor’s feet and revealed a gleaming silver symbol. It was a complex rune, fashioned
with magic from the bones of the road and etched in silver beneath the dirt.
Another two droplets of the witch’s blood fell and uncovered the rest of the
symbol, its crossing lines and swirling curves upon which Eleanor stood fixed.
The silver light grew
outward from the symbol and wound up Eleanor’s legs, revealing chains that
moved like snakes holding the girl fast. As Thomas and his friends watched, the
witchcraft of the snakes dissolved, changing the chain-snakes into vines and
the vines into puffs of violet dust like dandelions on the wind. The bindings
frayed and the symbol flared with bright silver light and then the enchantment
was broken.
Eleanor dropped to her
knees amid a ripple of violet light as the witchcraft faded and the world
regained its proper hue and sound and shape. The rolling countryside and solid
presence of the North Road pressed themselves against Thomas’s awareness; he
heard the buzz of bees and the rustle of crops and felt the waning warmth of
Wednesday’s sunlight on the back of his neck.
Eleanor was back on her feet in an instant. She raced forward and
threw herself to Thomas, hugging him fiercely, laughing and crying all at once.
She released him only to shower kisses and greetings on Elwood and Cathán and
Avery, who each responded in their own kind of delight. Cathán squeaked and
trembled and blinked his little brown eyes at her, while Avery chattered on in
raven-speech and flapped his wings enough to shed a few feathers. Elwood
alternated between barking and pounding circles around the happy group of
friends, too excited to contain it, needing the release of whines and biting
his own tail and rolling in the dirt of the road to cope with such a reunion.
Thomas hugged his sister and laughed with his friends and found that a
few happy tears rolled down his own cheeks.
He had not forgotten the witch, nor she them; after allowing them a
minute or two of celebration, the witch stepped close and directed herself at
Thomas: “Our bargain is now complete. But I would speak with you a moment
further. Alone.”
Thomas agreed, and the two separated themselves a short distance. The
witch stood before Thomas, still as beautiful and terrible and otherworldly as
ever, but with perhaps a softening of her malice, a blunt edge that before had
been sharp and cold. Maybe his words and actions had already had some effect on
her. Thomas knew he was probably imagining it, but that was okay too.
The witch studied him for a while. “My name is Mirhenne,” she said
softly. Her voice was like frost on the tips of leaves: not the deep ice
cracking in the trunk, driving a wedge between root and life, but the glitter
of condensed starlight and moonglow heralding a renewal, a transition, a
boundary blurred.
“Hello, Mirhenne,” Thomas said, holding out his hand.
The witch’s touch was cold and smooth and swift. “I’ll say no more to
you now, Thomas of Mídhel. But I’ll let you go, and I won’t trouble you or your
village further. I’ll save this next spell-craft for another time and place.”
Thomas noticed that her black eyes were tinged with gold and violet now. “You
are unusual. I’m not sure you’ll be able to keep up this attitude of kindness
when the world continues its ways. Few things are as fair and bright as we
might wish them. But”—and the witch paused a moment—“I suppose I hope that you will keep it up, and I’ll be interested
to see what happens to you. I’ll keep an eye over you, Thomas. Make of that
what you will.”
Thomas didn’t know what to say to that. Whatever difference he might
have made, the witch wasn’t making this proclamation out of kindness pure. He saw
the black in her eyes just as well as the hints of brighter colors. But Thomas
nodded his understanding anyway.
“You should leave now,” the witch said, gesturing toward his friends.
Thomas turned to go, but she called him back by his name, and when he
looked she flashed him a smile of white sharp teeth.
“Thomas,” said Mirhenne the witch, drawn up in violet and pale white
and midnight black, a thorn of winter on the drooping branch of autumn, “you
should know that you are now welcome to eat some of the blackberries in the
patch, as long as you’ll show me the kindness of tending to them as well.”
“I will,” said Thomas, the words more difficult and complicated than
any of the others he’d said this day. “Thank you.”
The witch nodded once more, and then she was gone.
Thomas slowly returned to his friends and his sister, his smile
returning as he drew near. They’d watched him intently, making sure that the
witch did him no further or unexpected harm—that her witchcraft was well ended
on the North Road with the completion of their bargain. Now that she was gone,
and Thomas was safe, they resumed their rejoicing.
“I’ve so much more to tell you,” Thomas said to Eleanor, hugging her
again. His smile had returned to full brilliance now, and he put aside the
words of the witch for another time.
“Aye, friend Thomas neglected to mention a good many deeds of bravery
and excellence,” proclaimed Cathán, his whiskers twitching. He scampered up
Thomas’s body and then leapt to Eleanor’s shoulder, where he kissed her on the
nape and made her giggle. “He was a hero true and noble. We all were!”
Elwood barked and licked Thomas’s hand.
“Most especially me,” said Avery, preening his feathers from atop
Thomas’s shoulder. “But say, friends—did I tell you the story of the cunning
ferret who tried to sing the moon to sleep so that he could woo the comely
jaybird? Oh, it’s a fascinating tale: one of my best yet, if I ever finish it!
And entirely true; that is, it’s a certain fabrication, of course, but based
entirely on historical accounts and the documentation passed down through
generations of raven-lore. Perhaps I could begin the telling as we head off in
search of something to nibble on? I know how famished little mice and dogs get,
to say nothing of human boys and girls.”
Everyone agreed, especially Elwood with his wild barking, and Eleanor,
who looked like she hadn’t eaten much in the past week. “I could use several
good hot meals and a long rest,” said the girl, rubbing her wrists and ankles
where witch-chains had formerly encircled. “I wasn’t treated poorly, but still.”
“Let’s go home, then,” Thomas said. “We can have a meal and a rest and
perhaps a hot bath, and we can enjoy some time with Mother and Father and let
them know that you’re okay—that we’re all okay. And we have some new friends to
introduce to them besides.” He patted Elwood’s head.
They took a few steps down the road, and then Eleanor stopped and took
Thomas’s arm. “Wait, what day is it today? Has it really been a full week?”
Thomas nodded.
“Oh, I almost forgot!” cried Eleanor. “I heard about a new troupe of
performers passing through—today! They’ll be in Mídhel around noon. They have
musicians, storytellers, acrobats, everything! I bet we can convince Mother and
Father to go too, and we can introduce Cathán and Elwood and Avery to them
while we’re walking over to the south fields where the troupe will be.” She
glanced up at the sun. “But we have to hurry! It’s nearly noon now!”
Eleanor grabbed Thomas’s hand and set off running down the North Road
toward home. Elwood barked and leaped after them, with Cathán hanging tightly
to Eleanor’s shirtsleeve and Avery, after a few disgruntled flaps and
mutterings, soaring overhead, his black shadow keeping them company over the
dirt of the road.
Thomas laughed with the wind and the sun and the freshness of the air.
They ran along the road back to Mídhel. Wednesday urged them on with
late-autumn warmth and the flutter of golden leaves, mimicking the Wednesday of
a week before, but perhaps now a little brighter and sunnier still. Winter was
waiting soon enough, but autumn still claimed its own kingdom, accompanying the
children and the animals in their flight along the North Road, away from danger
avoided and in the direction of sure adventure.
And on they all ran toward home under a bright Wednesday sun.
THE END
