The Ragwitch
From the author of Abhorsen comes classic fantasy set in a world dominated by the Ragwitch, a being of sinister, destructive intent.An ancient spirit wreaks death and destruction on the world that sought to cripple her powers.“Julia turned around – and Paul skidded to a stop in shock. He felt like he’d been winded, struck so hard he couldn’t breathe at all. For the person in front of him wasn’t Julia at all, but a hideous mixture of girl and doll: half flesh, half cloth, and the eyes and face had nothing of Julia left at all, only the evil features of the doll.”When Julia finds the ugly doll in the strange ball of feathers on the beach, Paul instinctively knows that his sister has meddled with something that is going to cause trouble. But already it’s too late –the power behind the doll already has his sister in its thrall and, later that night, the Ragwitch claims Julia for its own.Fighting against his natural urge to run from this hideous being, Paul is drawn into the creature’s own world. Can he save his sister –or even himself?
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The Ragwitch
Garth Nix
TO SHAHNAZ,
MY FAMILY, AND FRIENDS
Table of Contents
2 The Forest of the May Dancers The Sea Caves
4. Gwarulch by Night / The Raqwitch Looks to the South
5. Rhysamarn / The Mountain of the Wise
6. Tanboule’s Advice / The Sack of Bevallan
9. The Wind Moot / Glazed Folk
10. The Memory / A Village by the Sea
12. The Beast /To the Water Lord
13. Golden Fire / The Water Lord’s Catch
16. A Picnic With Lyssa / Master Caqael and Friends
18. Julia Is Summoned / Dancing With Fire
19. Within Her Mind/ Rhysamarn
20. The Potato Harvest / The Raqwitch Attacks
“COME ON, PAUL!” shrieked Julia as she ran down the dune, the sand sliding away under her bare feet. Below her lay the beach, a white expanse bordered by mounds of seaweed. Beyond the seaweed lay the sea, a great mass of slow, tumbling waves, each solemnly dumping another load of the green-brown kelp.
Julia didn’t wait for an answer to her call – a brief backward glance showed Paul atop the dune, staring single-mindedly into the sea. She kept on running, breaking into an erratic skip to avoid the stinging bluebottles cast ashore to die in the morning sun.
Entranced by the view, Paul slowly moved his gaze along the beach, like a swivelling human telescope. He looked mainly to the north, where grey rocks thrust out into the sea, forming a spit, full of intricate pools and dangerous channels.
Above the spit, a strange hill rose out of the sand, a reddish hill, crowned with thousands of gleaming white fragments and shells. The hill dominated the shore, rising high above the lesser dunes that flanked it.
“Come on!” shouted Julia again. Paul looked down and saw that she was already walking towards the spit. He quickly switched from looking to walking mode and took a diagonal path to meet her, half sliding down the face of the great dune.
“Isn’t it fantastic?” burbled Julia, as Paul finally arrived at the spit, panting from his exertions. She spoke without looking at him, intent on the tiny fish that swirled about her toes in the rock pool.
“Yeah, great!” answered Paul enthusiastically. “Do you want to go out on the spit? We might see a dolphin from the end.”
“Not now. Wouldn’t you rather climb that?” asked Julia, pointing at the hill.
“What sort of hill is that?” asked Paul. “I’ve never seen a hill like that on a beach!”
“It’s a midden. Daddy told me about it last night. You can just see it from the house.”
“What’s a midden?”
“An Aboriginal midden,” explained Julia, “is sort of a really old rubbish tip. It took thousands of years to build up, just by people dropping shells in the same place. That’s what those white things are.”
“But what about the red dirt?”
“Oh, that,” whispered Julia, her eyes widening in mock fear. “The dirt is the remains of old, old bones.”
“Maybe I don’t want to go up there after all,” said Paul, echoing Julia’s tone of mock fear. Deep inside though, he was a little frightened. The Midden looked quite safe in the bright sunlight, but at night, it could easily be a different, more chilling place.
“Let’s go then,” shouted Julia, springing to her feet and bounding up towards the Midden. Not quite so eager, Paul slowly got to his feet and walked after her.
It took several minutes to climb to the top, as the shell fragments cut their bare feet, making it like walking across a field of broken glass. Still, it was possible to thread a precarious path through the shell patches by keeping to the sections of plain red earth.
On top of the Midden, the sea breeze was much stronger and the scent of salt was heavy in the air. From their vantage point, they could see clearly for kilometres, both to the north and south. With their newly extended horizon, an ocean-racing yacht had just become visible out to sea.
“The Sydney to Hobart race goes by here,” said Paul, watching the yacht’s spinnaker billow out to catch a sudden breeze. “We might see them go by if we stay long enough.”
“Hey, I’ve found a nest!” cried Julia, who had started exploring the irregular bumps and hollows at the top of the Midden. Paul didn’t come at once, so Julia re-emerged from her hollow and dragged him round to see her find.
The nest, if it was one, measured a good two metres in diameter, and was made of loosely woven sticks and dried mud. It was empty, save for a single ball of feathers about half a metre wide. Paul looked at it curiously, noticing that some of the feathers were longer than his arm and very, very black.
“Julia, what sort of bird makes a nest like this?”
“Oh, some sort of sea eagle,” replied Julia, who was poking at the ball of feathers. She found a scrap of brightly coloured cloth and eagerly began to take the ball apart to find whatever might be inside.
