14.2 The Shetland Witch, or, Atropos Wants Her Shears Back
In which a goddess arrives.
The grass sphere tipped, suddenly, in an angry shudder, and Atropos bent down to hold it steady. With her other hand she gestured, and her Keres clustered around her, whimpering and cold, like fading shadows in the light.
Atropos lifted the sphere with an effort and stood up straight.
She smiled at her sisters.
‘I won’t go. My Keres will take him back.’
She bent her head to whisper to the shadows in a language Hazel did not know. They swarmed over the sphere, obliterating its lights, and covered it from sight. They crouched and clustered, ready to fly, supporting the sphere with their thin hands and transparent feet.
But there were not enough. The Keres were tired, and they wailed in distress as the grass sphere rolled out of their grasp and bounced on the ground.
‘Oh no,’ said Maggie.
Hazel lunged at the sphere, steadying it, and then she was knocked off balance as it rolled into her. ‘He’s trying to get out,’ she grunted, and turned to grab it, but she stopped.
Something was climbing over the cliff edge, lit lividly by dawn light.
Someone else had arrived.
Water poured off the vast figure’s head as it pulled itself up easily onto the cliff edge with immense sinewy arms. Its head was far above Hazel’s gaze. She could see only a torso, green skin over hard muscle, and two enormous hands gripping the edge of the land.
Ishabel was struggling to stand up, but Avril was holding her firm. Tornost was lying flat on the ground, his hands over his eyes and he was wailing with thin, terrified screams.
Hazel stood with her head tipped back, staring upwards in disbelief.
The size of the creature continued to grow, as it heaved first one knee, and then another onto the cliff. It stood upright, enormous, five times the size of a human, water still pouring down its body. The dawn light shone full on its face and body. Hazel marvelled at the tensile strength of the muscles supporting the vast body, and now she saw the sharp teeth and glittering black eyes. Its head was long like the skull of a sea serpent, but with the ears and nose of a human in a lined green face. It had long hair reaching to its thighs, moving in the air like thick green weed in a waterfall. Tangles of kelp hung over its body, and a necklace of tiny bones and scallop shells like fingernails swung around its neck – ‘Ah, it’s female,’ Hazel thought to herself calmly – and over her breasts. As she breathed out, the rich smell of the sea rushed over them like a wave.
Ishabel was standing now and gazed up at the creature. She was shaking slightly, and gripped Avril’s arm to steady herself.
‘Greetings, great Rán,’ she said.
Rán inclined her head to Ishabel like a queen. She turned to look about the headland and the cliffs with interest and inhaled the air in a breath that made the seabirds quiet.
Tornost was hiding his face from the goddess.
Despite herself Hazel began to wonder nervously about the weight of the giant creature, and how much more pressure the cliff could take. But she could feel solidity beneath her, and the immense network of mycelium was deep below and all around her, like a mass of connecting tissue. She felt reassured, but only partially. The legs in front of her were massive.
She looked cautiously for signs of webbing in the vast feet splayed on the grass. The goddess’s toenails were elongated and sharp like knives. The thick skin of her feet was wrinkled like a seal.
‘If Atropos exists, and Tornost exists,’ Hazel thought, ‘there is no reason why Rán should not exist. I have to believe it. But how did she get here?’
<We tore off a massive piece of the web to wrap up Zeus. She must have come in through the gap.> Maggie said in her head. She sounded exhausted.
Now the vast creature turned her head to look down at them all.
<I greet you.>
Hazel gasped.
<A gift for me once lay here.>
The voice in her head was like stones being dragged across coarse sand by the surf.
<It was taken.>
There was a pause. Tornost whimpered but stayed very still. Hazel did not look at him.
<One brought me a gift of silver and bone. It was accepted. Another took it from me. Where is it?>
Atropos moved forward. She held the grass sphere in her hands but seemed hesitant. Hazel quickly put her arms out to take the sphere, and Atropos passed it to her without looking. She began fumbling in her pocket.
‘No,’ Ishabel whispered, ‘No, don’t –‘
Atropos ignored her. She brought out the two separated halves of the shears and held them out in her hand to show the goddess. They glinted.
She waited.
Rán looked down, and then bent further to see the blades more closely. She extended a finger to touch them. Her expression was unreadable.
<I have seen. It is enough. I return my gift to you.>
She nudged Atropos’ hands back gently with an enormous finger, and Atropos staggered, nearly falling.
Then Rán turned to Hazel, who stepped backwards a pace.
<Where is the god?>
Wordlessly Hazel held out the grass sphere. Rán looked at it.
<He is aðskotadýr. He does not belong here.>
Moving as smoothly as an outgoing wave, the grass sphere rose into the air. Hazel tried to grab it, but it floated quickly out of her reach, towards the opened hand of the sea goddess. Rán received the sphere, and it rested on her open palm like a bubble. Small tendrils wriggled free from the sphere and moved rapidly over her giant fingers. Rán stroked the tendrils delicately, and smiled, her face lighting up. Her teeth shone.
With the grace of an athlete she moved forward in one giant step. Hazel threw herself sideways out of the way. Rán bent, and twisted her body with the sphere in her hand, and then swung her arm around with enormous power, flinging the sphere upwards and outwards into the sun. It vanished like a dot into a blaze of light.
Rán turned to look at the witches. Nobody moved. She spoke directly at Atropos.
<This is not your place. You too are aðskotadýr.> she said. <But you sent the gift. You may become one with this place.>
Hazel could not see Atropos’s expression.
<I leave now.>
Rán turned, and leapt two-footed into the air, over the edge of the cliff. She plunged down into the sea and the rocks.
Hazel covered her face, waiting for the crash and the violent upleap of displaced water. But nothing came.
Episode 14.3 will follow.
The Shetland Witch © Kate Macdonald 2024.
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