THE hag walked the forest until the sunlight that encroached through the canopy turned to dark. Only the moon and stars lit her way now, and they were little use as a beacon. As she followed the only light she could see, the thick roots threatened to turn her ankle, the twisting branches reaching out for her hair, face and arms, as though they sought to enmesh her and keep her in this forest forever.
A spider’s web, thick and viscous, caught about her face and she heard the skittering of something near her ear. In a panic she ripped it from her cheeks and mouth, crying out as she stumbled forward in the dark.
When would this nightmare end? When would she be released from this purgatory?
She stopped, crouching beneath the boughs of a mighty oak, eyes wide as she searched in vain for comfort in the dark surrounding her. Still she could not remember her name or where she had come from. But then she had so far not given it much thought. This place had plagued her with images of war and death and pestilence since she’d arrived, and given no respite since her first moments. She had to gather herself. To remember.
Closing her eyes she tried to think back to the beginning. To before she had found herself on the empty plain. It was difficult, like trying to break through a barrier she couldn’t see, but there was no doubt the barrier was there. It stood tall and wide and stopped her from remembering. With eyes shut tight she willed it away, desperate to see what lay beyond. Her fists clenched, nails digging into her palms, the pain focusing her on tearing down the wall that blocked her memories. Teeth ground as every muscle tensed, but still she could not break it down.
‘Relax,’ she whispered to herself as she let go. There was no point in forcing this.
Instead of battering the wall with her anger and frustration, she instead moved towards it with care. And in return it spoke, breathing whispers, teasing her with a past that was just beyond her reach.
Hot wind whipped about her, a desert dryness in the air. Men being slaughtered by the score. A seed in her gut growing out of control. Eating her from within. Consuming. The weight of its power overwhelming. Victory and helplessness tearing her apart. Ripping her from the world.
She opened her eyes.
It was still dark. Still silent but for the chirruping of some night creature. She listened to its lilting voice in the distance before she realised that it was the sound of no animal. There were words tangled within the tune. Somewhere in the forest a voice was singing.
She stood once more, stumbling on through the dark, trying to home in on the song. Despite the disorienting environment she worked her way closer, discerning words in a language she couldn’t understand. Up ahead a weak light permeated the trees, and her breathing came faster the closer she got.
Slowly she crept up on a clearing in which a fire glowed and crackled. Three creatures sat around it, their hairless heads reflecting the firelight. Each had pointed ears, eyes huge and dark, despite the fire’s light. One of them continued to sing his strange verse as the other two looked on with gleeful smiles. All three seemed like cheerful little imps, dressed as they were in trews and waistcoats, their bare feet tapping in time to the dainty tune.
She knew she had to reveal herself. These were the first friendly faces she had encountered, despite their outlandish nature.
As she walked into the clearing the singer stopped and looked at her. The other two turned fearfully.
‘Hello,’ she said. ‘Can you help me?’
It was all she could think to say. It was clear she needed help, though what these three creatures could offer she had no idea.
The one who had been singing jumped to his feet. Unnaturally large smiles crossed all their faces.
‘Yes, yes,’ he said, his voice high-pitched and tuneful. ‘Sit. Sit by the fire.’
He gestured eagerly and she walked forward, feeling it warm her. She crouched down, rubbing some feeling back into her limbs. She hadn’t realised how cold she’d been wandering in the forest.
‘I am Mahata,’ said the singer. He gestured to his companions. ‘These are my brothers, Rahata and Kahata.’
She nodded at them in turn, and after several moments of silence, Rahata said, ‘And who are you?’
She looked at the three creatures in turn, hoping to put off having to explain that she had no idea who or where she was.
‘I don’t know,’ she said finally. ‘I have only been in this place for…’ She couldn’t even tell him that much. In truth she had no idea how long she had been here.
‘Ah!’ Rahata’s smile grew even wider. ‘Then you are a newcomer.’
‘A newcomer?’ she replied. ‘What do you mean?’
Rahata looked at his brothers. ‘A new arrival. Fledgling. Just ripe.’
Looking down at her wrinkled hands, and the white brittle hair that hung about her shoulders, she thought she was anything but ‘ripe’. Nevertheless, one of the brothers, Mahata or Kahata or whatever he was called, sniffed at her like she was some fragrant flower. She leaned away from him, only to find the other brother had also moved in on the other side, his grin malevolent in the firelight.
‘Yes, I suppose I’m new here,’ she answered, discomfort growing as the two creatures stared at her longingly. ‘But I don’t know where I came from. Can you help me?’
The three looked at one another, then shook their heads frantically.
‘No,’ said Rahata. ‘We can’t help you.’
‘So you have no idea where I’m from?’ She could hear the yearning in her own voice and it embarrassed her to sound so pitiful.
‘That’s not what I said.’ Rahata’s brothers began to giggle. ‘We know exactly where you’re from. We’re just not going to tell you.’
She stood, gripping her fists to her sides. The brothers stood too, their faces twisted in mock fear.
‘What is wrong with you?’ she asked. ‘Why won’t you help me?’
‘Oh, we’ll help you,’ said Rahata. ‘We must put you out of your misery.’
‘Consume you,’ said one of the brothers.
‘Take your soul and suck it dry,’ said the other.
Their eyes took on a darker hue and one of them blinked, a translucent film flashing across his eyes like some forest lizard.
She had made a mistake and yet again, fear gripped her in an icy embrace. These were not the benevolent imps she had thought.
As she tried to back away Rahata grasped her arms from behind.
‘Wait,’ she pleaded. ‘Why are you doing this?’
The creatures ignored her, their faces becoming twisted and evermore bestial.
‘Can you smell it?’ said one of them.
‘Can you taste it?’ said another, his forked tongue flicking forward in anticipation.
‘She is so ripe,’ said Rahata, burying his head in her white hair and breathing deep. ‘So, so ripe.’
‘Let go of me,’ she said, struggling in the creature’s grip, but she was held tight. She issued an animal scream fuelled by panic and thrashed wildly. There was nothing she could do to loosen Rahata’s hold.
‘Don’t worry,’ said one of the brothers. ‘It won’t hurt… for long.’
As he moved towards her she felt as though something inside was squirming for release, as though her innards were being pulled every which way. She tried to hold onto it, but it seemed as though her very soul were being drawn out of her body.
The darkness of the forest grew more oppressive, looming in with tenebrous fingers. She was going to die in this unholy place, her soul consumed with no idea of who she was or even why this was to be her fate.
As the last of her strength ebbed, she could resist no longer.
Someone ran from the shadow of the trees and into the fire-lit clearing. Through fading vision, the hag could just make out a woman, eyes wide with fury, sword in hand. The creatures screeched, turning to face the intruder, faces contorting in rage as they hissed at this warrior woman.
Rahata loosed his vile grip and the hag slumped to the ground as the warrior attacked. She cried in rage as she swung the sword, taking the head of one creature from its shoulders. The other brother attacked, dark claws raking an armoured shoulder. The warrior span, sword flashing again, cutting a furrow across its chest. Rahata issued a final hiss of rage at the death of his kin before turning tail and fleeing into the dark forest.
The warrior stood panting for a moment, then glanced down.
‘Are you all right?’ she asked.
Was she all right? The hag could not tell. It was as though the creatures had been tearing at her essence, eating her from the inside out.
‘Who…? Who are you?’ was all she could ask.
‘I am Hera,’ said the warrior, offering a hand.
The hag took it, allowing the woman to pull her to her feet. The bodies of the two foul creatures lay still beside the fire. One was headless, the other had a gash across its chest, but neither of them was bleeding, as though they were old man-shaped sacks of meat.
‘I am grateful to you, Hera,’ she said. ‘It was lucky you happened upon me when you did or those creatures would have…’
What would they have done? She still had little comprehension of exactly what they would have done to her.
‘Happened upon you?’ said Hera. ‘It is not luck that caused our paths to cross. I have hunted you for days.’
‘Hunted me?’ For a moment her panic returned.
‘I had to find you.’ Hera sheathed her sword. ‘Before you succumbed to the dangers of this land.’
‘You know me?’ the hag asked, her fear abating slightly. ‘Then you know how I got here?’
Hera shook her head. ‘No. I do not know who you are. All I can tell you is that we’re drawn together. Whatever force brought us both to this place compels us towards one another.’
‘But I cannot remember anything. Nothing from my past beyond arriving in this accursed place.’
‘Memory will come, in time,’ said Hera. ‘And perhaps you will regret it when it does. As your link to the land of the living weakens, so your memory of it grows stronger.’
‘The land of the living? What do you mean? What is this place? Where am I?’
‘You haven’t worked that much out yet?’ said Hera, glancing around at the brooding environment. ‘You are in Hell, girl. Of that there is no doubt.’
The hag let that sink in and it made a strange kind of sense. Even though she could not remember where she had come from, the concept of Hell was one she knew.
‘Then we are damned,’ she breathed. The prospect of facing damnation alone filled her with dread. But then she was not alone. ‘Others? If this is Hell are there more of us? More lost souls?’
Hera nodded. ‘Yes, there are others,’ she said. ‘It was one of them who sent me to find you. Come. I will take you to him.’
With that, Hera led the way through the forest. All the hag could do was follow.