Journal of Hedger Sledge as recorded by his servant Gnat.

Hempwood Witch

Half naked, standing at the dead center Heartland and Sun Path, rain sluiced through her red hair braided with ribbons and twigs and slivers of metal. Water flowed down her sopping green robes, the left shoulder nude and exposing cleavage to the round edges of her areola, splashing down on her bare feet, toes covered in mud as though she had risen from the very earth itself. She clutched a birch branch embedded with crystal and fine jewels that gave off a warm glow in the storm's gloom, casting a bluish light on her face.

The storm caught Gnat and myself by surprise, drenching us in its deluge as we sought shelter. We followed the Sun Path, hoping it might lead us to the Sun Blade. Our horses stopped short of the crossroads, shying back and refusing our urgings to press forward.

"Who are you?" I had to shout to be heard over the pounding rain drumming the road and splattering against the tree canopy.

"Someone who knows what you seek." Her voice tingled across the raindrops like the ringing of crystal.

"Witch," I said to Gnat and he nodded his hooded head, eyes concealed but I sensed his fear as he quivered on his horse (Gnats note: I wasn't afraid, just wet, cold and tired... it was his fault we road in the rain, as I warned him that morning of dark clouds on the horizon). "What is it I seek?"

"Knowledge."

I laughed. "Don't all travellers in the rain want knowledge of how to escape the rain?"

"Some seek shelter, others a warm fire," she said, pointing her branch at me. My stomach twisted at the idea of magic being used on me, especially since magic was relatively new to the world returning around the same instance the star fell from the heavens a dozen reapings before my birth. "You desire the Sun."

"Yes," I replied, "if you would kindly step aside we will continue our search for the Sun."

"I know where you may find it."

"Behind the clouds." I muttered to Gnat. He gave me a teeth chattering grin. Never trust a witch, especially one at a crossroads, but I pressed one to humor the woman. "Where, old wise one, is the Sun?"

"Not so hasty." She slapped the butt of the ranch onto the ground. Water no longer sluiced over her, but around her as though she stood in a bubble or cave behind some falls. "First, you must trade me something."

"What?"

"A soul."

The first shovel full of dirt fell.