The Witch’s Blood. Katharine Corr

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      ‘This way.’ Jack turned right, away from the path that meandered down the side of the hill, leading them parallel to the wood in the direction of a rocky outcrop. He was walking faster now, guiding Sorrel past boulders half-submerged in snow, until they came to a clump of Scots pine. Beyond the pines was a sort of … fold in the ground, which deepened into a steeply sloping channel. Finally, after another few minutes of anxious scrambling, they reached the bottom.

      ‘Here.’ Jack pulled aside an overhanging curtain of trailing ivy. Behind was a tall cleft in the rock face. ‘It widens, inside.’

      Finn dumped the bags on the ground by the cave entrance, wincing and rolling his shoulders back. ‘We need a fire.’

      ‘I can take care of that.’ Merry tried to dismount elegantly. But after sitting for so long, her arms and legs were too cold to obey her; she managed to swing one leg across the saddle before losing her grip and sliding sideways.

      ‘Careful—’ Jack began, but Finn was quicker. He grabbed Merry and lowered her gently to the ground. Her knees buckled under her immediately.

      ‘Sorry,’ Merry murmured. ‘Pins and needles.’

      ‘You’re frozen.’ Finn picked her up. ‘Let’s get inside.’

      The cave was a lot larger than it looked from the outside, stretching back a long way into the hillside above. As they passed behind the ivy Merry conjured several globes of witch fire, sending most upwards to hover by the roof of the cave and keeping one in between her hands to warm them. The flickering violet light cast strange shadows, but at least it revealed their surroundings: a sandy floor in the front sections of the cave, giving way to moss-covered rocks further back. The twisting shape of the cave – from the middle of it, Merry couldn’t see the entrance – gave protection from the wind outside. Someone had dug a pit in the ground that was filled with ash; clearly, they weren’t the first people to have sought refuge here. There was even a small spring that bubbled out of a fissure in the wall before seeping away into the earth. Watching the water, Merry realised how hungry and thirsty she was. She glanced round to locate her bag and saw that Finn was sitting with his head in his hands again, tapping his fingers over and over against his skull.

      ‘Finn …’

      He looked up at her – there was so much grief and fear in his eyes.

      ‘I can’t feel it any more, Merry.’ He touched the centre of his chest, and Merry remembered how he’d talked to her in the garden back home about sensing and controlling her power. ‘There’s just … emptiness.’

      Merry slipped an arm round his shoulders. ‘Have you tried again to cast a spell?’

      Finn shook his head. ‘There’s no point. I know it won’t work.’

      Jack came in carrying a few branches and twigs. ‘This is all I could find. And it’s damp.’ He glanced uncertainly at Finn. ‘But the spring water is good to drink. It may revive you.’ Arranging the wood in a rough heap in the pit, he brought out two stones from a pouch hanging off his belt and struck a spark. But the fire wouldn’t take.

      ‘Let me help.’ Merry came to crouch next to Jack. The branches were thin and sodden; even to her untrained eye, they didn’t look like good bonfire material.

       They need to be dryer. And much bigger.

      There had been a collection of household spells among the books that Gran had given her. Merry could see it now: a blue cloth cover embossed in black. And inside had been all sorts of charms that Merry hadn’t found that interesting. Cleaning spells and darning spells and charms for making your bread mixture rise. There had also been spells for drying clothes and one for getting a tree to produce larger fruit. Some combination of those would surely work here? Merry closed her eyes and tried to remember …

      Her power was strong and instant. Before she’d even finished murmuring the makeshift charm, she could feel heat on her face. And light. She opened her eyes again. In place of a few damp bits of wood there was a substantial pile of logs. Flames blazed brightly from the centre of the pile, licking around the edges of the outer logs and making them glow. Merry held her hands up to the fire and sighed as her cold, cramped muscles finally began to relax. She looked at her companions. Finn was staring at the flames, but otherwise he hadn’t moved. And Jack … Jack was busy getting food out of his bag, almost like magical fire-starting was something he saw every day. So far, he’d produced a few small yellow-brown apples, a wooden bowl full of nuts mixed with a kind of berry that Merry didn’t recognise, and a large, flat disc of bread that he was tearing into three pieces. Little enough, but better than nothing. Merry took a piece of bread and one of the apples, got a cereal bar from her bag – all she’d been able to bring since she hadn’t wanted to risk raiding the kitchen before leaving home – and went over to kneel next to Finn.

      ‘Do you want something to eat?’

      He shrugged.

      ‘Please, try. It might make you feel better.’ She went to get a blanket out of her bag, and fill Finn’s water bottle at the spring. When she returned, he was picking at the bread. She shook the blanket out and wrapped it round his shoulders, crouching down in front of him. ‘Why don’t you come and sit nearer the fire?’

      Finn glanced over at Jack, who was eating rapidly and cutting slices off something – cheese? – with a smaller knife.

      ‘No. I don’t feel like chatting. And I’m not really hungry. I, um … I guess I’ll try to get some sleep. I’m already useless enough without being exhausted too.’

      ‘Don’t say that: you’re not useless. I need you. Besides, the magic – it’ll come back.’

      ‘Maybe.’ He gave her a small smile, took her hand and dropped a kiss into her palm. ‘Don’t worry about me, Merry. Eventually I’ll stop feeling sorry for myself. And I’ll probably feel better once I’ve had some sleep.’

      ‘Well, give me a shout if you need anything.’

      ‘I will.’ He wrapped the blanket round himself and lay down, facing the wall of the cave.

      Merry went back to the fire, settled herself next to Jack and took a hunk of bread and a handful of nuts.

      ‘Here.’ Jack poured something from a leather bottle into a horn cup and passed it to her. She took a sip.

      ‘Mead?’ Jack nodded. Merry felt the honeyed liquid warming her as it slipped down her throat. She was tempted to drink more. But the fire was already making her drowsy, and there was still too much she needed to know. ‘So. Ronan arrived in the autumn, if not earlier. And ever since then he’s been laying waste to the countryside. And he’s killed the queen, and is besieging the king, and if he takes the king he’ll control the kingdom.’ It sounded like a game of chess. ‘Do I have it right?’

      ‘Yes.’ Jack stuck the small knife into one of the apples, splitting it in half. ‘I was only told a few months ago that my parents – the people who brought me up – were not actually my kin. I travelled to Helmswick and met the king and queen, my natural parents. I spent a day with them. One day. And then …’ His features twisted with anguish. ‘And then I watched my birth mother die.’ He hunched over, wrapping his arms round his knees. It was so familiar a gesture. Merry began to reach out her hand towards him. But she stopped, remembering: this СКАЧАТЬ