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18JAIDE
By the timewe reached the tents at the edge of the Witch village, the sky was starting to lighten in the east. I could have wept with happiness when I saw the horses the witches had ridden out to face the supposed threat of trespassers on their lands. I rode behind one of them, beyond relieved that I wouldn't have to walk through the night.
Elliot was up ahead, chatting with his mother. Long stretches of time passed without either of them saying a word, and then all of a sudden, they'd be babbling quietly. I imagined he was filling her in on who I was and what this was all about. Every once in a while, she would look back at me over her shoulder. I didn't know how to take that. Whenever she did, I would sit up a little straighter, since I didn't want to look like a lazy slob.
I caught the aroma of roasting meat within moments of reaching the first tents. My stomach clenched, my mouth watered, and I would happily have jumped off the horse and run toward whatever was being cooked.
“I'm starving,” I whispered before I could stop myself.
The Witch in front of me turned her head slightly, although she still wore her hood so I couldn't see her face. “We share what we have but not without a price.” Again with the damn riddles.
“I don't really have anything to offer,” I said.
“Not all costs can be measured in gold. You possess something far more valuable.”
Terrific.
That didn't make me feel weird at all. I decided it was better to stay quiet, so I turned my attention toward the fires dotting the landscape. They were tended by men, all of whom looked at us in plain suspicion as we moved through the camp. That was really what it was, more so than a village. Tents, yurts, horses here and there, munching the grass. A handful of cattle, a few of which were in the middle of being milked as we passed by. There were goats, too, with ropes around their necks and tied to stakes driven deep into the ground. I wondered which of their friends was currently roasting over a fire toward the center of the camp.
At the very center, beyond that big fire, was a huge yurt. There was nothing special or fancy about it, but it drew my attention anyway. That was where we were headed, I realized, and sure enough, the riders ahead of us dismounted in front of it. We came to a stop before Garret helped me off the horse. My thighs were burning and my ass… let's just say I was as far away from a heat as I had ever been. If one of them had tried to touch me when I was so chafed, I would have sent a lightning bolt zigzagging straight up their cock.
Delphine stepped up, and when she lowered her hood, I got my first good look at her. Immediately, I searched her face for signs of Elliot and found him in the shape of her eyes, the line of her jaw, and the olive tone in her skin. Her long, thick hair was more salt than pepper, wound in a heavy braid, which hung down her back. She could have been anywhere between fifty and five hundred years old. There was no way of knowing thanks to her unlined face.
She extended a hand, her fingers long and tapered, but didn't say a word. Instinct made me lift my hand and place it in hers. Whatever this was all about, she wouldn't hurt me. I was absolutely sure of it.
I walked with her into the yurt, which somehow seemed even bigger inside than it looked on the outside. There was nothing in there but blankets and cushions arranged in a circle around blue fire in the center.
“What is that?” I whispered, breaking the silence.
“This is the sacred space reserved for our goddess.” Her voice was low, rich, and comforting. “We are tenders of the fire. We protect it; we take it with us on our travels. It is our greatest responsibility.”
I took another step closer to it, staring into the blue flames that didn't rise up from wood or coal or anything like that. No, it was liquid, like burning fuel, but there were no fumes. Only smoke which rose up and exited the yurt through a hole in the top.
I was so busy examining the fire that the brief pain in my scalp made me jump and put a hand against the back of my head.
“What—” I began, before noticing the strands of hair she held.
Delphine had ripped them clean out with the roots still attached.
Instead of explaining herself, she stepped up to the bowl, which held the fire and tossed my hair inside. She then stepped back, so I did. When she sat cross legged on one of the cushions, I did the same.
And we waited. For what? I didn't have a clue.
That was until the thin ribbon of smoke turned into something thicker. Substantial.
And soon, something in that smoke solidified into an image. It was so realistic, I wanted to get up and stick my hand in the smoke to see if I could touch the people now moving around inside it. My eyes were wide, burning from the smoke, but I didn't want to blink for fear of missing something.
“What is this?” I choked out, staring at what was materializing before us.
“Your past,” she murmured.
My past? There wasn't that much to see there. I was about to point this out when a very familiar man appeared, smoke swirling around him. I would have known him anywhere. Healynas.
As I watched, she interpreted. “He searched for a woman among us,” she murmured.
While I watched him ride through a camp not unlike the one in which I currently sat, I saw Witches turn away from him, trembling, and saw the pride and arrogance on his face as he passed.
I spied him dismounting before taking one of the women—she wore a cloak and a hood, hiding her face. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her toward a tent, and as he did, her hood fell back and revealed her silver-tinted hair.
