Excerpt: The Fall of the Witch Hunters

ANITA WOLF
Excerpt:THE FALL OF THE WITCH HUNTERS




Mazacan wouldn’t have to report for duty until later, and he still had a couple of things to take care of before that; but there was one thing that he simply had to do first. He hadn’t seen her in such a long time.
Mazacan hadn’t been to Caldon in years – let alone Rigby. She was bound to have changed a good deal, just as he had. Mackenzie, his best friend, knew nothing about his new job. Mazacan guessed darkly that she wouldn’t be thrilled when she found out.
He reached the hill from which he could see her house. Here at least, everything looked the same as he remembered. That much could not be said about the rest of Rigby. It used to be a separate village; now it was one of Burgh’s furthest suburbs. Everything here had seemed so much bigger and prettier when he had been a boy.
Mackenzie came out of the house. Mazacan hesitated for a moment. The last time he had seen her, she had been little more than a child; now she had become a young woman. Yet Mazacan immediately recognized her walk, and that way she had of brushing her red hair out of her face. He found that incredibly reassuring.
She was going to the clothesline, to hang up a fresh lot of washing.
As Mazacan approached the house, he wondered what sort of appearance he ought to make. Perhaps she was cross that he had been gone for so long. Perhaps she wouldn’t even recognize him. He was only a few paces away, and she still hadn’t noticed him. Mazacan decided to greet her as he had always done.
“Meep!” he said, and prodded her in the ribs.
She squeaked and turned around. At first, she just stared at him in disbelief. Then she asked: “Mazacan?”
“Hi, Kenzie. I’m, er, back, as you can see.”
For a moment, he feared she would box his ears. Instead, she squealed with delight and threw her arms around his neck. Mazacan hugged her, and was surprised when he realised just how much he had missed her. She let go of him and he put her down again. He had never noticed that she only reached his chin. Presumably that had not been the case earlier.
She grabbed him by the arms and looked him up and down. “My goodness, Mazacan,” she teased him. “Look at you! When you left, you looked like an elf-brat; now you could almost be mistaken for a grown man. You even acquired a bit of a beard! That’s quite rare among the half-elven. It must be the Northman in you coming out.”
She slapped him on the stomach with the back of her hand. Mazacan only just repressed a girlish giggle, and cleared his throat.
“That’s about the only place, though.” He showed her his elvishly smooth forearm.
“I like that better than all these ape-like types you get around here. Not that I wouldn’t like you if…” She broke off, pushed him back a little, and crossed her arms. “And to what do I owe the extraordinary pleasure of your visit?”
Kenzie seldom showed her real emotions. Mazacan knew that. The hug she had just given him had been a huge exception. She usually had a firm grip on herself. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that her father was an earth elemental. They were said to be unshakeable. It was only her large yellow-green eyes that gave away the fact that she was a half-breed, like Mazacan. He, with his ebullient nature, admired Kenzie’s self-control. To be honest, he admired everything about her.
“This isn’t a visit, Kenzie. I’ve started a new job here. I’m staying.”
She beamed for an instant, then composed herself again. “What do you mean, here? In my garden? Did you get a job as a scarecrow?”
He looked down. “Not exactly. Something like that.”
“Are you going to tell me, or do I have to guess?”
“No, no,” he assured her hastily. “No need to guess. I’ll tell you. Only – in good time, all right? Actually, I have to go… I just wanted to… I just wanted to let you know that I’m back.”
“Well, I know that now.” She smiled at him. “The suspense is killing me. Off you go, or you’ll get kicked out on your first day. Hup hup.” She shoved him towards the garden gate.
“I’m really glad to be back.”
“You’ve been away long enough, Pointy-ears.”
Pointy-ears. That was the nickname she had given him. One of his father’s Northmen had heard her call him that once. From then on he had been known among them as ‘Wee Elfy-lugs’. At least until he had been strong enough to beat them senseless.
“See you soon, Kenzie.”
He turned to leave, but Kenzie held him by the arm. “Mazacan, I don’t want you to think that I’ve become paranoid over the years, but… Be careful, will you?” she said, in earnest now. “Things have changed over here. Don’t pick a fight with the Witch Hunters.”
Mazacan swallowed. “Don’t worry, Kenzie. I won’t get into trouble with them.”
He gave her hand a squeeze and left.

He stood in the shade of the oak-tree on the little hill, and watched as the blonde man left the house and mounted his horse. He saw him wave goodbye one last time and ride off. She stood at the gate and watched him go. For a suspiciously long time, he thought. Then she went back to the house.
Let’s find out what that was all about, he thought, and started down the hill.

Kenzie was in a state. Mazacan just had to come back now, of all times. She hung a sheet up on the clothesline.
Of course she was pleased. Very much so. Mazacan had been her best friend since she was six years old. She had nearly drowned, but he had dived in without hesitation and dragged her back to the bank. To this day she was afraid of large masses of water, of any kind. He was the only one who knew that.
Mazacan had moved to Nordsk with his father when he was seventeen. She hadn’t seen him since.
But she was glad that he was finally back. Maybe he would even be able to help her. Now that Dargh had disappeared. She was getting really worried about her friend. It wasn’t like him to give no sign of life for weeks on end. She was convinced that something had happened to him. Quite aside from her own dismay, the Resistance depended on Dargh. How could she keep the movement alive in Rigby with so few people? She vaguely hoped that, maybe, if she explained things to him carefully, Mazacan might…
“Well, sunshine?”
Kenzie’s heart skipped a beat. Lachlan stood behind the clothesline and decoratively laid a hand on it.
“What are you doing?”
Kenzie smoothed her hair and composed herself. Every time she saw Lachlan up close, like now, part of her screamed Hallelujah! and fell over, grinning happily. Yet she had nothing but contempt for who he was, and did her best to nip any attraction she might feel in the bud. She tried hard not to let him see her inner conflict.
“None of your business, Witch Hunter,” she said curtly, and hung another sheet on the line, right in front of Lachlan. Then she turned around and took one of the empty washing baskets, careful not to turn her back completely on the concealed banshee.
“Come on, Kenzie.” Lachlan emerged from under the sheet. “You’re not telling me everything. For instance, who was that young blonde oaf waving at you so wistfully?”
She felt her hairs stand on end. He had been watching her. “No-one. Just an old acquaintance.”
“If you greet all your acquaintances that warmly, you’ve some catching-up to do with me.”
She put the basket down, hoping that he couldn’t see how her hands were clenched around the handles.
“You’re not an acquaintance. You’re a government official.”
“Not today, sunshine. Today I’m off-duty. I’m here as a civilian.”
She glanced at the two intimidating knives that hung from his metal-studded belt. He could easily have performed major surgery with those. He probably had.
“Civilian? With those things?”
He raised his hands innocently. “Believe it or not, but there are a couple of people in this world who might want to harm me.”
“You don’t say. It must be an occupational hazard.”
She took up a pair of shears and began trimming the rosebushes. She didn’t need to, but she somehow felt better holding those shears. Perhaps there were bits on that man that didn’t grow back when they were cut off.
Lachlan leaned on the wall of the house and watched her fuss uselessly with the bushes.
“So, where does that… acquaintance of yours come from?”
“He’s from here. He’s…just returned after a long voyage.”
“Has he indeed. And why is that?”
Kenzie lowered her shears for a moment. “Well, doubtless, in your deluded mind, to overthrow the King, the Government and the Witch Hunters. It’s a well-known fact that every Resistance fighter washes up at my place. Oh but of course, it’s because I’m the head of the local Resistance! Silly me, I’d quite forgotten.”
Lachlan only raised an eyebrow.
“Lachlan, how many times do I have to tell you? I’ve got nothing to do with this whole Resistance thing. I don't know what gave you that idea.”
He waved his hand eloquently.
“You’re completely paranoid,” said Kenzie.
“No. Just watchful.” He was suddenly standing next to her. “I know that you’re involved with the Resistance. I’m going to prove it; you’re going to tell me everything you know, and that will be the end of your little rebellion, sunshine.”
Kenzie made a wrong movement with the shears and accidentally cut off a rose. She tried hard to conceal her nervousness, fished the rose out from amongst the twigs and smiled sweetly. She could not think of anything to say, except a speech that a former comrade-in-arms had once made to her.
“Goodness me, Lachlan! Don’t be so hostile all the time.” She pinned the rose on the hilt of his knife. “So much hatred and violence. Relax! Embrace the nature of things. Let peace flow into your heart.”
He looked at the rose, and then back at her. Then he reached into the rosebush. There was a soft hissing sound, like that of a candle being snuffed out. The whole bush seemed to wither and to shrivel, until only a dead stump was left.
Those were my mother’s roses, you bastard, thought Kenzie. Seemingly unmoved, she told him: “Fancy that. I didn’t know you could do that to plants.”
“I can do that to anything that lives, sunshine.” He let go of the dead bush and laid his right hand over her carotid artery. “With most folk, this is the best place to Extract. It’s quicker than people think. With long-lived folk, it takes a little more effort. Too much life in them, don’t you know.”
Kenzie looked straight at him. “Well, in that case I wouldn’t want to take up any more of your valuable time Lachlan.”
She pushed his hand away, walked past him and resumed hanging up the laundry.
“But next time you wish to show off, do try not to use my roses, will you? There’s plenty of weeds that could do with your attention.”
Lachlan looked at her irritably for a while, then grinned and stepped towards her.
“I’ll get you, you’ll see.”
He walked out of the garden. Kenzie waited until he had gone before she dared to breathe again.

When he reached his horse, Lachlan noticed that he still wore Kenzie’s rose in his belt. He took it out, meaning to crush it and throw it away. But he stopped, looked at the flower, hesitated, then placed it carefully inside the inner pocket of his coat, before mounting up.
“Come on. Time to take a look at Floyd’s replacement.”
He rode off towards Headquarters.

Mazacan soon acquainted himself with the other Witch Hunters from the elite unit; and Seth always trailed after him, eagerly waiting for an occasion to be of service to his new hero.
The Thirteen Witch Hunters weren’t the sort of people you would want to run into on a deserted road. They all wore the Witch Hunters’ characteristic black garb – as he now did, too. The two ladies in the unit - the ones Seth had been so embarrassed about - looked pretty enough, though no more confidence-inspiring than their male colleagues.
The one Mazacan found the most congenial, besides Wolcod, was Morgan, a giant of a man; he had been around even longer than the boss, and was already going grey. He had probably killed more people in the course of his life than Mazacan had ever met; but at least, unlike some of his colleagues, he didn’t boast about it.
None of the Thirteen was married or had children. Mazacan could think of quite a few reasons why. He wouldn’t have married himself as a black-clad official, who would vanish every night to arrest entire families, and do goodness knew what else with his insane bloodthirsty new friends, behind the walls of a place everyone avoided like the plague. Although he wouldn’t have married himself before, either. He thought of Kenzie, for some reason, and felt a twinge.
To distract himself, he began counting the Witch Hunters he already knew. He counted twelve, including himself. Of course, the banshee was still missing.
“And where is Lachlan?” he asked Morgan, which probably broke Seth’s heart. The boy was hovering in the background.
The older man looked down at him. “Are you in such a hurry to meet him?” he said darkly. “Don’t worry. You’ll soon be seeing more of him than you’d wish. Lachlan is in charge of the induction for all new Witch Hunters. In the beginning you’re practically his.”
Mazacan felt his heart sink at the news. “But Wolcod said that I would answer only to him…”
“Yes, that’s right. As soon as you’ve grasped how we do things.”
“And how long will that take?”
“Depends if you’re a fast learner.” Morgan shrugged. “If you are, maybe a couple of months. If you’re not, you’ll be dead before that, anyway.”
Mazacan sighed quietly. He could have had such a great life among the Northmen. He had left because he was a landlubber at heart, and because he had had a terrible argument with his father; but compared to his present circumstances, it seemed like heaven on earth. A rather cold, pitching heaven among a bunch of roaring blokes, true; but still.
“I guess I’d better learn fast, then.”
“You’d better,” Morgan muttered. “Be careful with Lachlan. He’s been with the Witch Hunters for an awfully long time. He and Wolcod don’t get on at all.” He glanced around briefly. “It was Lachlan who recruited the boss, at the time. He isn’t best pleased that his former pupil is now giving him orders. And he won’t be pleased that a rookie like you got appointed to such a high position, either. He’ll think you’ll only meddle.”
“I thought he was supposed to be so great. Why didn’t the King name him Chief of the Witch Hunters?”
“Even the king isn’t stupid enough to give Lachlan more power. He might as well hand him the crown. That’s why he appointed Wolcod, even though he thinks his methods are too soft. Wolcod is the only one who isn't afraid of Lachlan.”
“Are you afraid of him?”
The huge man nodded, and Mazacan felt something tighten in his stomach.
“Listen. It took us long enough to find a replacement for Floyd. Try not to die right away.” Morgan clapped him on the shoulder and left.
Mazacan shook his head, baffled. How much worse could it get?
“So you’re the rookie,” said a voice.
He didn’t need to look to know it was Lachlan standing behind him. Mazacan knew the voices of Dark Folk by now.
“That’s right,” he answered, slightly annoyed, and turned around.
He thought that for a banshee, Lachlan’s features were almost too hard. Normally, male banshees also looked delicate and ethereal. This one looked like he had actually bathed in the blood of virgins.
Lachlan frowned. “So it is you…”
“Have we met?” Mazacan would have remembered if they had. Lachlan was a little shorter than he was, but he still felt like he had to look up to him.
“Met? No… not exactly.” Lachlan folded his arms over his chest. “So – Mazacan, right? – as long as you’re… new here, it’s my job to make sure that you… manage.”
The way Lachlan stressed his sentences was unnerving. He could say the most innocent things and contrive to make them sound suggestive, mocking, menacing, or all at once.
“I’m sure I’ll soon know my way around.”
“I’m sure you’ve already found your way around… some places, at any rate.”
Now what is that supposed to mean? Mazacan thought irritably.
“I know you’re from around here, but how about I give you a little tour to begin with?”
“Why not.” How does he know that?

He followed Lachlan into the yard, and a comatose-looking stable boy brought them their horses. Lachlan’s black stallion was leaner and more sinewy than Mazacan’s Northland mare, Skadi. Something told Mazacan it would be better not to go anywhere near the beast. Lachlan had no such qualms about Skadi.
“Hello there, big girl!”
He stretched out his hand to pat the mare. Mazacan grinned to himself, hoping that his horse would snap at the banshee. Skadi was a very diffident beast, and would not allow many people to handle her. Mazacan often thought he had a bad influence on her. But instead of biting that snotty banshee’s fingers clean off, Skadi let herself be petted, and even looked like she was enjoying it.
Floozie, thought Mazacan.
“Looks like we have a few friends in common,” said Lachlan, and mounted his creepy black horse.
None of my friends would willingly have anything to do with you, except this stupid nag, thought Mazacan; but he muttered: “Possibly.”
“I’m sure we’ll get along,” said Lachlan; but it rather sounded like: It would be better for you if we got along, that way I won’t have to rip your guts out right away.
“I’m sure,” Mazacan grumbled, and mounted up. He already cordially loathed Lachlan.