Backwards Moon (3 page)

Quickly, Bracken spread her fingers and held them over the humans. “ ‘Calmly, calmly, walk the way,' ” she chanted in a high, nervous voice. “ ‘Take your path, and choose it wisely. Know ye that your way's your own, of your own choosing, clear and bright.' ”

The humans lay very still. Their wide, startled pupils reminded Nettle of a rabbit who's hoping you don't see him.

“ ‘Long the path, and winds betimes . . .' ” continued Bracken, but as she finished the spell, her voice, too, was calm, and Nettle could tell she was ready for the next step.

Bracken twirled three times, her braids flying, then stood with her arms outstretched, gazing upward. She breathed—in and out, in and out—then from her breathing came the rest of the forgetting spell. Some parts were out loud, some in the Language.

She seemed, as far as Nettle could tell, to be getting every word right, even the ending.

The spell hung in the air like mist.

“Human beings,” said Bracken steadily. “You will forget, soon, everything about the pass you crossed and the valley you saw.”

The humans nodded dumbly.

“You will go home now. You will retrace your steps to wherever it is that you came from.”

The humans' heads bobbed in time to Bracken's voice.

“If you ever wonder why something happened on your journey, you will believe it was for some ordinary reason.” Bracken leaned down close. “You will never go back to our valley. You will never tell any other human it exists. Go now.” She bowed, her hat-point making a small arc against the black, star-scattered sky. “Fare-thee-well and merry be.”

The humans blinked, then tried to sit up.

“The knots!” said Bracken in the Language.

Nettle darted forward. The humans lay calmly as she undid every knot. Then they sat up.

“We need our headlamps,” said Big One to Sandyhair.

Moving slowly and fumblingly—humans didn't seem to see at all well in the dark—each retrieved something from his bundle and fastened it to his forehead.

“My!” gasped Bracken, squinting, as from each forehead shot a bright beam of light.

The men turned their heads this way and that, the light beams playing over the boulders.

“All right, now. I remember exactly how we came,” said Big One.

“So do I,” said Sandyhair. “We can make camp in a couple of hours. Get an early start tomorrow. Be back to the truck by nightfall. Home on Wednesday, most likely.”

“Sure,” said Big One. “It will be good to be home.”

The two men hefted their bundles and walked off into the night.

“
I wish we could have talked to them,” said Nettle. “Don't you?”

“No,” said Bracken slowly.

“Aren't you even curious?”

“It gives me a funny feeling, seeing humans,” said Bracken.

Nettle bent down to pick up Bracken's hammock and paused. Something small and dark and square lay nearby on the stony ground. “Hey,” she said. “Look! It's that Invention. The black box!” She snatched it up and jabbed at it, the way the human had done.

Then they both froze, transfixed.

The box emitted a very faint, high whine. Then, on its glassy surface, a strange hard light shone.

“Drop it!” cried Bracken.

The box landed with its square of light facedown, but a glow leaked out from the edges.

“It's like . . . magic!” said Bracken in a hollow voice.

“It can't be,” said Nettle. “Humans don't have magic. They can't! They don't.”

They stared until the glow and the whine faded away. Nettle nudged the box with her toe. Nothing happened. “I think we should take it with us. I think we should show the others.”

“Pick it up, then.
Don't
jab it,” Bracken added quickly.

“I'm
not
,” said Nettle. She slipped it into her pocket.

“It made the same kind of light as those things they wore on their heads,” said Bracken uneasily. “Hard. Cold.”

They watched as the mysterious headlights bobbed slowly down the slope. “Nettle?” said Bracken suddenly. “Look down there.” Way past the humans, far down the valley, shone more lights, tiny in the distance.

They were not the soft yellow glow of candles, or firelight, or lamplight. They were white and cold and hard.

“They're not moving,” said Bracken. She paused. “Could those be lights from human
cottages
? A whole
village
of humans?”

“I think they must be!”

“A human village,” said Bracken slowly.

“Bracken, let's go see!”

Bracken frowned.

“Now!” said Nettle. “Bracken, if we don't go now, we might never get to! Rose will fix the Veil, and we'll be trapped again. Forever!” She pulled out her broomstick. “Come
on
!”

“We don't have much time,” said Bracken worriedly as they sped along. “The hawk will have told the others by now. They'll be coming, and if they find out we've gone all the way down here we're going to be in really, really big trouble.”

“They won't find out,
”
said Nettle. “And I want to see something different! I want to see something
new
, and you do too.”

“Fine,” muttered Bracken.

But as they flew toward the human village, Nettle could see that there were many more lights than she'd expected. Some of them blinked, and some were different colors: red and green and blue.

Bracken slowed her broomstick. “Everything is strange here. Nettle, come on. I think we should go.”

Nettle hovered, staring.

“Nettle, if you don't come, I'm going home without you. I mean it,” said Bracken.

Nettle wheeled her broomstick around.

They had just cleared the pass and had turned toward the village when Rose came hurtling toward them, her bony shoulders stiff, her long dress fluttering. “What news?” she cried shrilly.

“We sent them home!” said Bracken. “I cast a forgetting spell on them first.”

“Did it work?” said Rose sharply.

“Yes,” said Bracken.

“Are you
sure
? Are you absolutely sure?”

Bracken hesitated. “I think so. It seemed that way! But Rose, there are lights beyond the pass! Human lights!”

Rose took in a breath through closed teeth. “Come with me,” she commanded and swept back through the pass.

She scanned the valley. “
Blast
. Blast and
stink
it.”

“It's a village, isn't it?” said Bracken.

Rose nodded grimly. “Go home now, both of you. Right this minute.”

“Aren't you coming?” asked Bracken.

“I have an errand to do,” said Rose. “Go back. I'll be there soon.”

“What if we just wait here?” said Nettle.

“Go home!” said Rose in a terrible voice.

So they did.

On the Commons, the Gathering Fire glowed. Seven black hats and seven sets of bony knees were ringed around it on log benches. Even Great-Aunt Iris was there, huddled with the rest.

Nettle and Bracken glided swiftly toward them. The circle of faces looked up.

“Are they gone?” called Violet. Her voice sounded even higher and tenser than usual.

“Yes,” said Bracken, alighting. The others moved aside to make room on the benches. “We cast a forgetting spell on them and sent them back to wherever they came from.”

“There were only two?” said Scabiosa. She was a big-shouldered witch with a wide grin and wild hair that was always escaping from its braid. Normally her voice was loud and full of laughter, but now it wasn't. “The hawk said there were only two.”

“Yes,” said Bracken. “But we saw lights. Human lights, down the valley.”

A murmur ran round the circle. “Many?” asked Scabiosa.

“It seemed like a lot,” said Bracken.

“Rose met us on the way back, but she didn't come with us,” said Nettle. “She said she had an errand to do. She didn't say what kind of errand.”

The firelight flickered on haggard faces.

“She's gone to get Wellspring water,” Scabiosa said slowly. “Water to fix the Veil.”

“See,” said Nettle under her breath. “What did I tell you about the Veil?”

“Why . . . why is everyone so
worried
?” asked Bracken.

The wind stirred. The flames of the Gathering Fire wavered.

“You might as well tell them,” said a hollow voice. Nettle turned her head, startled. Then, from the darkness outside the circle, Toadflax's bent form stepped into the firelight. She stared at Bracken with hard eyes. “We're doomed,” she snapped. “All of us.”

“Stop it, Toadflax,” said several voices at once. Shrill murmuring and muttering rose.

“What are you
talking
about?” asked Nettle. “That's ridiculous. We'll fix the Veil and everything will be fine!”

Toadflax gave her a tight smile.
“Everything will be fine,”
she mimicked. “Oh yes, we'll be just fine, just like the passenger pigeons were fine. Once they flew in flocks so immense they blackened the sky. But come to think of it, I haven't seen any around lately. Have you?”

“Don't listen to her,” said Scabiosa.

“This valley is beautiful
now
,” said Toadflax. She blinked her red-rimmed eyes. “Just like the world outside it was—before the humans ruined it. Like the forests—before they chopped them all down, like the prairies, with wildflowers as far as the eye could see, and lovely long grass blowing in the wind. Now it's all gone, the birds say. Plowed under by humans. We should have fought them when we had the chance, but did we? No! We hid here.
And what will keep them out now, pray tell?
”

“The
Veil
,” said Nettle. “We'll fix the Veil.”

“You think so?” Toadflax laughed softly. “How nice for you.”

“And besides,” said Nettle, “I still don't see why you're all so afraid of humans! I really, really don't.”

“Perhaps someone should tell you,” said Toadflax.

“No!”
said Scabiosa, rising from her seat. “Toadflax, hold your tongue. We have all agreed. We'll tell them when the time is right.”

Toadflax snorted. “We have humans coming through the pass, and now isn't the time to tell them? What exactly will it
take
, pray?”

“Silence,” said Scabiosa in a voice Nettle had never heard before.

Toadflax stared around the circle, then shrugged. “So be it. Persist in your folly.” She spat on the ground and stalked into the night.

“What was she
talking
about?” asked Bracken.

“Never mind,” said Violet primly. “Off to bed, you two. We'll wait up for Rose.”

“What?”
cried Nettle. “This isn't fair.
”
She gazed pleadingly around the circle.

Sedge, the youngest of the old witches, gave her a sympathetic shrug back. Sometimes it seemed as though Sedge and her friend Reed, the second-youngest-of-the-old witches, were the only ones who even vaguely remembered what it was like to be a witchling.

“It's not, you know,” Reed said now in her clear voice. “It's
not
fair. I think Nettle and Bracken should be told what's going on.”

“You,” said Violet, “are a mere one hundred and fifty years old. I don't think it's for you to contradict your elders.”

“Oh for pity's sake, Violet,” sighed Sedge. She leaned over toward Nettle and Bracken. “We've argued with them,” she whispered. “But . . . you . . . know . . . how . . . they . . . are.”

“There's no reason anybody has to go to bed if she doesn't want to,” said Reed. “It's not far to the Wellspring. If all goes well Rose should be back soon.”

“
If
all goes well,” said Violet.

“What do you mean, ‘if all goes well'?” Nettle asked.

“Enough questions,” said Violet, not looking at her.

“But . . .”

Bracken elbowed Nettle.
“Quiet
,” she muttered. “Goose. You'll get us sent to bed.”

“Goose, yourself,” whispered Nettle, staring at the fire.

Silence fell.

A log broke and fell into ashes, and still no one said anything.

Nettle's head nodded. She leaned against Bracken and closed her eyes.

Nettle woke to a hubbub of shrill, excited voices. It was first light; everyone was standing up, staring toward a black speck fluttering against the pale sky. As it drew closer, Nettle could make out Rose's hat and broomstick.

“Thank Gaia!” said Scabiosa. “Oh, thank Gaia . . .”

Rose landed by the now-dead fire and climbed shakily off her broomstick. “I got it,” she said, pulling a bottle of water from her pocket. “But they've found the Wellspring. There were houses around it. Lights.”