Micah or the end of Magic. Chapter 4

Chapter 4.

 

More Deserted Places.

 

The next morning, Micah left the inn. Brean was sitting beside the village well.

“I wouldn’t drink this water,” he warned. “The mayor’s body is still in there.”

“There was a pump in the inn yard,” Micah said. “I filled my bottle from that. What will you do now?”

“This was my home,” Brean replied. “I think I’ll stay here and warn anyone who comes about the poisoned well.”

“Well,” said Micah, “I’m going to keep going. Take care.”

He marched off down the road. After a few miles it struck him that he had seen no one else at all.

“This is very odd,” he thought. “This is the main road. There ought to be carts and horses and people using it.”

He came to another farm by the roadside. Like the one before Bilton, it was deserted. The doors were locked, so he couldn’t look inside.

He scratched his head, puzzled. The outbuildings were empty too, no people, no animals. He shrugged and continued along the road.

In a nearby field he thought he saw someone waving to him. But when he approached, he realised it was only a scarecrow, its ragged clothes flapping in the breeze.

“Well, you didn’t leave, did you?” he said. The scarecrow did not reply.

By mid‑afternoon he had still seen no one else. Ahead lay another village. A milestone stood beside the road, and a very ragged man was sitting on it.

“Hello,” Micah called.

The man jumped up in fright and bolted into the bushes without a word.

“I won’t harm you!” Micah shouted. The man did not reappear.

“What village is this?” Micah called.

From deep in the bushes came a trembling voice. “Siddley! But no one can get in. Go away! I ain’t done nothing!”

From the rustling sounds, Micah guessed the man was retreating even further into the undergrowth.

Micah shook his head and walked on toward the village. As before, something invisible stopped him. He opened his box and took out the jewel. For a few seconds it shone bright red, then faded. Again the strange sensation pressed against his chest like a heavy hand.

He put the jewel away and walked into the village.

It was deserted. Not even a dog barked. All the houses were shut tight. Micah tried several doors, but every one was locked. There was an inn by the roadside. He walked all the way around it, but there was no way in. At least there was a pump, so he filled his bottle.

“Looks like I’m going hungry,” he said to a magpie perched on the stable roof, watching him intently.

On his way out of the village he found a set of stocks. A piece of paper was pinned to them. He peered at it. Someone had left a note, but he had no idea who it was for or who had written it. Micah had never learned to read.

He was about to leave when the ragged man crept up behind him.

“I ain’t done nothing,” the man said. “Calizone said no one could get into the village. She put a spell on it. She made everyone pack up and leave. I hid in the bushes and watched ’em go.”

“Where did she tell them to go?” Micah asked.

“Don’t know,” the man said. “I was hiding. I ain’t done nothing.”

“I don’t suppose you can read either,” Micah said.

The ragged man shook his head. “They think I’m daft,” he said. “But I hid. They had to go. But I hid. I ain’t done nothing.”

“Well, the spell has gone now,” Micah said. “You can get into the village if you want.”

The man shook his head violently. “The wraiths might come back. I hide. I ain’t done nothing.”

“Wraiths?” Micah said, glancing around.

“She brought them with her,” the man whispered. “They chased the people. Stuck swords in anyone who didn’t go fast enough. I hid.” He licked his lips nervously. “Not staying here with wraiths.”

“Probably sensible,” Micah agreed.

The ragged man sat on the steps outside the inn. He trailed his fingers through the dust, drawing patterns, curves and lines, using his index finger like a brush.

“No one takes any notice of me,” he said. “The boys throw stones at me.” He giggled. “I hid. They had to leave. I stayed.”

A gust of wind blew across the step and erased his drawing.

“I ain’t done nothing,” he said again.

“No,” Micah said gently. “I don’t suppose you ever did.”

The ragged man stood and slowly turned in a circle, pointing at all the houses.

“This is all mine now,” he giggled. “They went. I hid. All mine now. You leave. This is my village now.”

Micah sighed. “I’m going,” he said. “You take care.”

“I ain’t done nothing,” the man muttered.

Micah walked away. A small shed stood by the roadside. He pushed open the door. Inside were a few bales of straw.

Micah set down his pack. “Better than nothing,” he said. “At least I’ve somewhere to sleep, even if there’s no food.”