PROLOGUS

The woods were stubbornly playing hide and seek with the women. If Jadwiga had gone berry-picking alone, she would have never found the meadow with the purpleberry bushes. Trails and paths kept appearing around them, leading to wind-fallen trees and wrong directions.

Who was responsible? The old Forest Goblin? He had no reason to be upset. Before entering the woods, Malice whispered all the necessary incantations, blessed her forehead with a shamrock and spilled some Clearway potion on the path. Maybe she felt that something was wrong. People normally walked in Philkin Forest with no trouble at all, but today was different and even the witch’s magic did not work. The women wandered for more than an hour in the forest until they saw a burned pine that was often used as a pointer. Black like a widow at a funeral, the pine mournfully stretched out its dry branches in the right direction.

Jadwiga sighed with relief and almost opened her mouth to thank the old Forest Goblin, but received a terrible, scorpion-like glare from her friend and did not say a word.

Malice was a small and simple woman who everyone in town had known since she was a child. She was a local witch, not a strange sorceress that people were scared to approach; and she was really quite ordinary and also younger than Jadwiga. Even today, men followed Malice with their gazes. However, when some of them tried to make a move on her, one of her glares would freeze their feet right to the ground. Then all they wanted was to run as far away as possible — it did not matter where, just away from her, even if their legs felt stiff…

Maybe they should go home? The purpleberry bushes be damned!

Of course purpleberry was very useful and suited anyone’s taste. It was used for protection charms and good jams. When people made lilac-colored juft they also added purpleberry in their tanning tubs. Jadwiga’s husband had an order for six packs of such juft. If she came home with an empty basket, Leon would scold her; maybe even beat her. Leon was quick to anger… What should she do — leave or stay? He might beat her, but it's not as if it would be for the first time.

Jadwiga looked silently at her companion. She was aware that the last word would belong to the witch. Even though Malice was too young to be in charge, she always ended up making the decisions.

Jadwiga did not receive a verbal response. Malice took a long breath. She shook her head as if trying to fight back hallucinations, and her red curls bounced on her shoulders. Then she continued toward the direction shown by the branch. She did not turn to Jadwiga, knowing that her friend would follow her.

Spring moss squeaked softly and felt slippery under their feet. It was always wet here even if the summer was hot. Wet, but not marshy. Jadwiga took in her surroundings. There were no chirping birds, no buzzing mosquitoes, and no movement in the leaves. The air was thick with a cold haze and promises of a thunderstorm. The witch stopped and touched the air in front of her with her hand. She took a step and then another one. Jadwiga hurried; she was afraid of being left alone in the silent forest.

“…I know you can. You must…Try harder…”

At that moment, the woman felt as if she were covered by a gray fog with furnace-black shadows swarming in it. The colors of the day faded; the woods looked ash-gray and lifeless. Panicking, Jadwiga rushed forward, but her movements were slowed as if she were running through jelly.

A sound resembling the twang of a guitar was heard in the distance and the world regained its colors. Thorny bushes of purpleberry with blue-gray berries and waxy leaves were right at the tips of her fingers. Mindlessly, Jadwiga reached for the berries and stopped, silently calling herself stupid.

The woman realized that there were people in the meadow. They were strangers, not the local folks. Jadwiga could not see what the people were doing. Malice hid quickly and turned to Jadwiga waving her hand angrily. “Bend down, you idiot! They will see you!” she yelled. Malice had concealed herself behind some branches. Jadwiga obediently crouched down. It was scary to spy on these people; they might realize she was here. She also really wanted to see something…On all fours, Jadwiga crawled along the thorny wall and found a narrow gap. With a sinking heart she carefully looked out.

“Septy, what's going on?” A man asked.

“I can barely see. Yes, here… D-devil, it disappeared again! A sickle almost got him…” Septy answered.

“Almost is not good enough…Baby, do you understand me? Try again. Try with all your strength or I will not be pleased. Even the demons of Lower Mamma are afraid of folks such as me.”

“I can’t! I can’t! I can do it in a different way…” The girl screamed.

“Baby, you are bad. Elm, tell her.”

“Yeah, Fort, I will.”

“I told you a hundred times, do not call me Fort!”

Three men forming an irregular triangle stood at the edge of the meadow. Seven torches: five long ones and two short ones were inside the triangle.

“Why do they need torches?” Jadwiga wondered. “It’s a sunny day. The flames look strange: as if they are being eaten by rot.” A glassy haze vibrated between the torches; it looked like the haze above a hot road on a sunny day. A girl moved inside the haze. She was a small, light-haired and barefoot kid, seven or eight years old. Her face looked odd. Was the poor girl crying? Or was the haze twisting her features?

One of the men moved. A long gray cloak shifted; a wide-flap hat, making him look like a mushroom, swung as it hid his face in its shadows. Two thin hands came out from the cloak and caught an invisible leash. The girl twitched as if she had been slapped on the face. She grabbed her throat wheezing. There was a whip of the invisible lash in response. The victim twisted like a snake and vainly tried to protect herself from the blows. Her movements made her body seem boneless.

Jadwiga pursed her lips and tried not to cry out.

“Stop it! I will try!” The girl cried.

“Go on then, do your best!”

The girl sighed and looked down. Thin and dressed in yellow, she looked like a chick among hawks. Jadwiga’s heart broke. How could she help? It was clear that the men were wizards. If she got involved, they would transform her into a toad or something more horrible, as Jadwiga’s mother had told her when she was a young girl.

The woman closed her eyes. When she opened them again, the girl slowly stretched out her hands. What was she trying to do? Fly? Jadwiga could see the girl was not looking down any more. Now, ugly green lights twinkled in the eyes of the small creature, who now looked much older than before.

Maybe it was the reflection from the magic torches?

The girl’s hands waived and moved like drifting weeds. Fingers pulled, ripped, tied, and twitched, weaving an imaginary lace pattern. Her movements resembled those of the wizard wearing the gray cloak, when he was using the whip.

“Did someone on the other end of her invisible threads wheeze and coil up in pain? Was he also begging, ‘Don't do it!’ and whispering, ‘I will try harder!’” Jadwiga thought to herself as she broke into a cold sweat. “Run! I should run away from this accursed place! I do not care if Leon beats me!” she thought. Jadwiga did not want to see, hear, or think about this place anymore…

“Okay, very good… c’mon, c’mon!”

“Damn it! He felt us!

“Who?”

“Combat Magician of the Throne…”

“A net! Quickly! Help me!”

“What about her?”

“Who cares! This is more important…”

Jadwiga never found out what was more important to the wizard-torturers. The air filled with blackness, and her ears popped. A hurricane blew and scattered the torches, crying with birds’ voices. The sun looked like the yolk from a boiled egg. A thick and starless night had fallen…

Through the howls of the roaming storm Jadwiga heard Malice cry. The witch was babbling some gibberish, and Jadwiga saw a triumphant smile on the girl’s face, as she slipped out like a snake from the broken barrier.

The old Forest Goblin hid in a distant ravine; he was scared and came out again only later in the evening.