Free Five Stars: Five Outstanding Tales from the early days of Stupefying Stories by Aaron Starr, Guy Stewart, Rebecca Roland, David Landrum, Ryan Jones Page B

quarrel is not with you, but with your new witch. If she were to only come out and speak with me—”
    “You’ll be speaking to the rats in the dungeon if ye don’t get.”
    “Do you know where she lives? Could you carry a message to her?”
    She ducked her head inside the house and yelled at someone, “Fetch the guards.” Then she slammed the shutters closed.
    I paced alongside the wall, calling out for the witch until my voice grew hoarse. Nobody else challenged me, but shutters closed on all the surrounding homes.
    Hoof beats thundered from somewhere around the wall’s curve. Moments later a dozen guards in Wren’s blue livery appeared, led by a captain in a red cloak, and they surrounded me.
    A brown beard shot through with gray covered much of the captain’s face, and above it, dark eyes regarded me with a mixture of curiosity and distrust. “Will you come quietly, or will we have to force you to come along?” he asked me.
    “That depends on where you plan to take me.” The worm writhed inside me. I fought the urge to grimace, not wanting the captain of the guards to find me weak.
    “The witch would like to see you.”
    Not the dungeons then. “Very well. I’ll go quietly.”
    They kept me in their midst as they led me back to the gates and then through. Hooves clattered against cobblestone streets, and everyone gave us wide berth. I ignored the curious stares as we passed through the strangely quiet market and then entered the narrow lanes between homes.
    We came to a road which ran to a dead end, butting up against the stone wall that surrounded Lowshire. Ivy covered most of the wall on this side, but could not hide the drab gray stone altogether. At the far end stood the two-story home from which the servant woman had yelled at me.
    The witch’s shop-sign hung from a house near the end of the street. A worm, outlined as if in diamonds, sparkled from the wooden square hanging over the door. Unlike other signs, this one was alive with magic. The worm crawled across the side facing me, then disappeared to the other side only to return again a moment later. The one within me twisted as if in response.
    The captain of the guard prodded me with one boot. “Go on.”
    They remained at the road’s junction. With each building built against the next, there was no way for me to escape. That suited me fine. I meant to finish my business with the witch.
    My heart hammered when I stopped before the witch’s door. I took a deep breath and pushed. It was locked.
    Was this some cruel joke on the part of the guards, one final taunt before they hauled me to the dungeons? To come all this way and find her not home loosed the dam inside me. The tears that had not come earlier came now, great sobs arising from deep within me and making me shudder. I sagged against the wall.
    “You came,” the witch said behind me. “I wondered if you would.”
    And there she stood, in the center of the cobblestone street. Her shorn head made her blue eyes seem wider. Her round face was smooth as glazed pottery, her features perfect in every way, save for the round, raised, ragged scar that marked her right cheek. I had taken her first worm out through that spot. She wore a diaphanous gown over form-fitting clothing that hid little. Her worm shone through her skin and clothes, a silvery being that swirled around one thigh, swimming through her belly to curl around her shoulders like a cloak of fox fur.
    I drew my sword and ran towards her. She held up a hand and a wall of magic hit me. The sword fell to the cobblestones with a clang. My legs would not move, no matter how I strained.
    Her mouth smiled, but it did not touch her eyes. “I’m glad to see you suffer as I suffered, when you ripped out my first worm.” Her hand rose to her cheek, traced the scar, then fell back to her side. “You won’t take this worm, though.” She cocked her head. “I could remove your crown and ease your suffering, let the plague takes its course