Fate's A Witch

Two fine pelts. Three mushrooms, freshly picked. Ten gold slips. A pinch of salt. That’s what they say you must offer the witch to know your fate.

Honestly, it seemed a little cheap for knowing the future, but I wasn’t going to dicker for a higher price. After a life spent feeling like I had a bigger purpose I was finally about to find out. The weight of it pressed into my chest and I paused a moment to collect myself before I knocked.

The cottage was small, overgrown, with a flourishing garden behind a small fence. Two cats rested in the sun on the porch. A long-bearded nanny goat was tied in a patch of grass around back. Exactly what you would expect from a witch’s home. Something about the storybook mundanity of it all was comforting and I found the courage to rap on the front door.

I heard the shuffling of old feet before the door cracked open just a sliver. “Another young man who yearns for his fate. You are ready to pay the price?” I nodded. With a satisfied cackle she opened the door the rest of the way and held out her hands. “Everything but the salt, young man. We’ll need that later.”

The inside was just as predictably witchy as the outside. Herbs hung to dry around a large fireplace, giving the room a deep, earthy smell. Shelves held jars, candles, and crystals and stones of every color. In the center of the room was a large table surrounded by several rough wooden chairs. She gestured to one and I sat, placing my salt box on the table. The witch, too, was as one might expect; an eccentric grandmotherly sort that ran to the kitchen with every new guest. Her back was stooped, her grey-streaked hair hung in frazzled kinks, her hands were calloused, but above it all her presence filled the place with a feeling of life. It reminded me of the earliest part of spring, the fresh mud before the grass grows.

The old woman bustled about, throwing things into a large brass bowl. A pinch of this herb, a dribble of that potion. At last she set the bowl down on the table with a solid thunk. With an ember from the fireplace she lit the things in the bowl on fire. The fire burned a deep crimson unlike any flame I’d seen before. It mesmerized me, drawing me in until her voice brought me back. “Alright then. Toss in that pinch of salt.” I did as told and with a flash the fire turned blue and the flames rose high.

The old woman stared into the fire for just a moment before she looked up with an amused grin. “Oh! It’s you!”

“It’s… me?”

“You, indeed!” With a wave of her hand the fire died out completely. “I’ve been waiting for you for years. I thought you’d arrive a little sooner, but, well. Each season in its time.” The witch pulled a bottle from under the table and handed it to me.

“A potion?”

“Wine. I thought it might help.” She sat back and folded her hands. “I’ll get straight to it. You, young man, are destined to save the kingdom.”

I choked on the wine and sat coughing, trying to catch my breath. “Pardon?!”

“Oh, you heard that right. Here, I’ve had time to write it down.” Handed me a paper with a short list on it. “You will travel north. Through the farm country, through the desert.  Gather anyone that will come with you. You will ally with the leader of the desert people, build an army, and the corrupt king will be disposed. You will be the next king.” Her revelation done, the old woman sat back and grinned while I processed. Every word had left her mouth so matter-of-factly. As though she hadn’t just graced me with the knowledge that I would be leading the charge of a high treason with a people that had no reason to trust in me. I’d felt like I had purpose, certainly, but this was bigger than I was aiming for.

I waited to see what else she had to say. She didn’t seem willing to elaborate. After some time and half of the wine, I nodded my head slowly. “Alright. I just… head north, then?”

“Exactly that. You’ll figure out the rest.”

“You make it sound simple.”

“Isn’t it?”

Off I was sent with a small woven basket of goodies and, just in case north was too hard to find, a compass. I had been dreaming of this day for so long and now that it had arrived it felt… too easy. Our whole exchange had taken less time than a sunset and changed my course forever.

Just before nightfall I reached a small farmstead. I waved my hat to a young woman working in the fields and she called an older man over. Her Papa, it would turn out, and her name was Harriet.

They invited me in for dinner and offered me the night’s rest in the barn. Over dinner they asked where I was head and, heeding the witch’s word to take any help I could get, I told them.

“I’m on my way north to build an army and kill the king.”

Harriet’s eyes lit up. “That sounds fun. Can I come?”

And so my army was two.

Harriet and I traveled from farm to farm on the road north. Whether it was that Harriet knew the many of the early homesteaders we came upon or that my first recruit was a pretty girl I’m not sure, but we quickly gathered a group of farm boys for the journey. The farmers that remained promised safe passage for our troops on the return march, donated goods, and one kind woman gave me a handsome gelding(which, after just a few straight days of walking, was a welcome relief).

In two weeks’ time nearly eighty men were with me, with others promising to follow our trail after the harvest was done. We took to traveling through the woods and the edges of the fields to avoid anyone on the road who might favor the king. It was likely unnecessary; after years of the crown taking the lion’s share of the crops there were few of his supporters to be found.

As we neared the northern border the terrain became too rocky and difficult to navigate, and we were forced to return to the road. It hardly mattered any longer. If word was to spread, so be it.

When we hit the sands at the edge of the dessert the leader of the northern people rode out to meet us. They called him Shunda, which meant something like “big brother.”  He was a large man in every sense; tall, wide, and a booming laugh that rolled up from his belly like thunder. I offered a hand to shake and he instead pulled me into a warm bear hug.

“So, you are the one building the army, yes?”

“The king needs to be stopped.”

He nodded and his great mustache nodded with him. “And these people, these farmers, that’s your army?”

I looked back at the few hundred men and women I’d gathered on my way. The witch’s direction to take anyone was clear, but I truthfully couldn’t imagine this group winning any battles. Still, they had followed willingly for a cause they believed in. “They’re my people. We’re working on the army part.” With another great laugh he clapped me on the shoulder, nearly knocking me off my feet.

“Well said my boy, well said. Let’s get you and your people to my home and we will make a strategy there.”

More people arrived to the war camp each day as word spread. Most were poor and untrained but Shunda’s captains taught them all the same. I, too, was learning; how to command, the finer points of battle strategy, and Mustard and I- my gifted gelding, a dun- were training together. He was turning out to be a fine war horse. I imagined that a life at the plow would’ve broken his heart. Harriet, too, was flourishing as my second in command. In all truth she was dumb as a post, but her ability to speak courage into the hearts of the people was unrivaled.

Before I could mark the time two years passed. It was finally time. Even the most pathetic of recruits had been shaped into fine soldiers. We planned our routes, gathered our allies, packed out provisions. My own confidence had grown, too, and my fate was at long last within reach. Soon I would be a king.

The night before we marched, we received word that the old king was dead. Killed in battle with the armies of the South. The new queen promised a kinder, more prosperous reign as they all do.

The people around me cheered, danced, celebrated with their full hearts as I stood stunned. Harriet looked at me with an odd face. “You are happy, yes?”

Over the years I had never shared with anyone, even my first follower, what and who had sent me on this path. Happy though I was to see the old king dead, there was a witch in the woods that owed me a damn answer.

Mustard and I rode hard to the south, through the sands and rocks and farmlands. I stopped only when he needed a rest or water, but I could take neither. I cycled between sorrow and rage and grief. There were flashes of joy, but only when I passed others in celebration. The tyrant was dead and the only person with cause to feel less than elated was me.

I at last came to her home. I bore no tributes when I rapped upon her door this time. She opened it slowly and gestured me inside. “I thought you might return. I’m sure you have questions, after all.”

The wave inside me at last broke. “What happened to my fate?”

She sighed and stepped outside. The witch gave no answer but made herself busy pouring water for Mustard. Despite everything I found myself taking the heavy bucket from her and carrying it the rest of the way. Damnable old woman, telling me lies and testing my manners. At last she gestured for me to follow her inside and sit down in the same chair I did not so long ago. I wasn’t willing to wait any longer for her answers and so I began to speak. “You said I would save the kingdom. Those were your words.”

“Yes.”

“That I would gather an army in the north with the people there-”

“That was said as well.”

“And then we would overthrow the king.”

She cracked a wry smile, as though she’d played some clever trick. “Ah, you see, I said the king would be disposed.” She rose from her chair and began fettering about in the kitchen while I sat in silence. What manner of mischief had this old hag played with my life?

Faster than I realized she returned with a cup of hot tea. “Thank you,” I mumbled. Always be polite to an old woman, even if she did tell war-starting lies. She plopped back down with a solid thud.

“Now, I’ve been waiting to tell this story for years, so sit comfy.”

I sat complacently, feeling no more a man than I had been years ago when I first sat in this chair. “Long ago, when the king was young and had just claimed the throne, he came to me. Wanted to know if his rule would go well. He didn’t like the answer.”

“Which was?”

“That after many years of rule he would be dethroned, due to a young man who would come through this very home. You, of course,” she added when I didn’t respond.

“But I didn’t dethrone him!”

“No. Because I sent you the wrong way.”

We sat in a long silence while I puzzled. That didn’t make sense to me. The wrong way? How could it be wrong if it was my destiny? “He thought about killing me at first but I convinced him you’d just end up at another fate-seer. It was even probably true. More tea?”

I blinked and looked down at the cup in my hands, which had somehow become empty. She whisked it away and I stared at my now-empty hands. Things were starting to make sense, but there were still hundreds of questions buzzing through my head. When she set another steaming cup in front of me I found my voice. “If it was my fate, then how…?

“Ah, she said with a satisfied grin, “that’s the clever bit. The king paid me handsomely to lie to you, and given that my other option was death I thought it a fine deal. Then I watched the country wither under his rule.” Her smile faded as her brow furrowed. “You see, he would have been dethroned if he had been a good king or a bad one. If I had told him something else then- lied, or twisted the truth- I wonder if he might’ve tried harder to rule well.” The witch sat for a moment, her eyes far away.

A log popped in the fire and it brought her back to the present. She looked back to me. “One day, a young woman came through my door. She, like my many other guests, wanted to know what the future held for her. It was her that was meant to form an army in the north that would fail, providing a distraction while you went south to lead the army the one that didn’t.”

Understanding dawned. “So you switched our fates.”

“Correct. I sent her south and told her she would lie in wait until the king’s attention was elsewhere.”

“I see.” I stood to leave. “Thank you, then. For the truth after so many lies.”

“What lies, dear?” I looked at her directly now, confusion clear on my face. “Everything that has come to pass is as I told it, even if you mistook the wording.”

I considered this. Those things had come true, after all. Had she lied about my fate, or simply changed it? But there was one lie outstanding. “Perhaps that is so, but you said I would be a king.”

Our conversation was cut short by the sound of hoof beats outside. My hand went to my sword and rested there as I moved slightly between the door and the old woman.

The newest visitor knocked softly on the door. “Mizzy? Are you there?”

I looked at the witch. Mizzy? I mouthed.

She waved me off and brushed past me. “Yes Mizzy, that’s my name. Not that you ever ask questions about something other than yourself.” The witch- Mizzy- answered the door.

“Mizzy! Did you hear? We’ve won, just like you said would happen!” The woman ran in and scooped the old woman into a hug. Only then did she seem to notice me. “Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know you had company.”

Never in my life had I seen a woman like this one. She was tall, poised, moving with a grace that spoke of long hours training for battle. Her long hair was messy and her armor was worn, but somehow it made her all the more beautiful.

“This is the captain of the northern army. And this,” Mizzy said, gesturing to the woman, “is your new queen.”

The queen rushed over and took my hands in hers, squeezing them gently as she spoke. “I’m so thrilled to meet you. Please, I would love to travel north and speak to your people. Our people she be united now, a kingdom for all of us.” I nodded along, watching each word tumble from her lips. It had taken only seconds to know I was entirely smitten. What an odd thing.

I cast a glance over to the witch. She had that same, devilish grin on her face and I remembered where our conversation had ended. She had said I’d be a king. Was this what she’d meant after all? Had she planned this, or was this something that was already meant to be? I turned back to the queen, who was still going on about her hopes for our kingdom.

Maybe the questions could wait this time.