Read The Ragwitch for Free Online Page B

tramped to the base of the Spire. There they halted, and then came a great, welling boom which drowned out the cries of all the Ragwitch’s lesser servants.
    A dark shadow suddenly fell across the Ragwitch’s face, and Julia quivered, though no reflex of the Ragwitch moved. Her huge leathery head slowly tilted back, greasy yellow locks ofdank hair falling around Her shoulders. Up above, a creature fluttered, its wings casting a shadow right across the throne.
    “The Meepers,” whispered the Ragwitch.
    It looks like a bat, thought Julia for an instant, but at the same time, she knew it did not. It had the wings and furry body of a bat, but the head was a fanged nightmare—a scaly mixture of piranha and serpent, with row upon row of gleaming teeth. And it was thirty times bigger than any bat, with wings that seemed wider than the sail on the yacht Julia had seen only the day before.
    The Meeper straightened its wings, and dropped past the Spire, falling away to the right. Others followed it, and the Ragwitch laughed as they hissed and bit at each other for their place in the line.
    Several hundred of the Meepers flew past in what seemed like several hours. Julia soon got more bored than frightened, and found that she could peer out of the corners of “her” eyes—perhaps even seeing things the Ragwitch could not. The creatures below disturbed her less now, and she began to count them—with a growing feeling of unease. She counted (or guessed at) over a thousand Gwarulch, at least a hundred of the statue-like Angarlings, and many hundreds of Meepers. And the thoughts of the Ragwitch were of fire and blood, death and destruction…Julia hastily tried to do sums in her head, barricading her mind against the memories—particularly the eating…
    “Gwarulch, Angarling and Meepers!” shouted the Ragwitch, Her voice sharp and malevolent, echoed everywhere by the black stone. “But where is Oroch? Who is Oroch to disdain Me, when I stand upon My Spire?”
    Down below, the Gwarulch shifted uneasily, muttering in their guttural language. Above, the Meepers flew in circles, angrily whistling at this Oroch who failed the Ragwitch. Only the Angarling were silent, white shapes impervious to any thoughts save the command of their Mistress.
    “Again, I say,” spat the Ragwitch, “Oroch! Your Mistress calls!”
    Inside the Spire, a rock cracked—and then another. Through the Ragwitch’s straw-stuffed feet, Julia felt the Spire shiver, and for a giddy second, was certain She would fall—that they would fall.
    Then the Spire steadied, and a single block of stone fell from halfway up, to smash unnoticed among the ranks of the silent Angarling. Julia watched, transfixed, as a hand emerged from the hole—a barely recognizable hand, wrapped in what looked like tar-cloth, or linen soaked in treacle.
    It was followed by another hand, and then a head, a faceless, cloth-wrapped head, that tilted back and forth like a broken toy. Then it steadied, and opened its mouth, a red, wet maw, stark and toothless against the black cloth.
    “Oroch was trapped, Mistress,” the thingmoaned. “Locked in the Spire I built for you. But their work could not keep me when You called.”
    “Oroch,” said the Ragwitch with satisfaction. “Come to me.”
    The Ragwitch held out a single, three-fingered hand, in gross parody of a handshake. She flexed her fingers, and Julia felt a thrill run through them, a spark of sudden power. Quick as that spark, Oroch was there, holding Her fingers with both his tar-black, bandaged hands. His legs scrabbled for a second, then he relaxed, swinging slightly from side to side. Julia marveled at the Ragwitch’s strength, for Oroch was at least two meters tall, though thin and spindly.
    “Your power is not diminished, oh Mistress,” gasped Oroch, his red maw panting.
    “It is increased!” shouted the Ragwitch, suddenly throwing Oroch in the air and catching him as he hurtled back down. “Now that I have a body of