Bewitched

by Kaila Patterson

  “Then, you will have to trust me.” Edward said, taking hold of her hand. He shook it, smirking.

  “Why help me? It risks everything for you.”.

  “I made an oath to my father on his death bed, swearing to never harm an innocent. Yet, under influence, I stood by laws that shamed that promise.” Edward whispered, staring off into the distance. “I am a hero by no means, but in all, a good man.”.

  An exaggerated cough came from the back of the room. Thomas, shooting the two a disgusted look, stood from his seat.

  “You are a disgrace to knighthood, that’s what you are.” Thomas growled, shoving a pointed finger into Edward’s face. “Real knights abide by law, and don’t help insufferable witches like her.”.

  Edward gave a cruel laugh, turning around to the young knight. Thomas’ eyes went large, glistening in the light.

  “What would you know about being a real knight, kid?” Edward demanded. “Morals come before law.”.

  Thomas stammered over words, slowly nodding in shame. Edward dropped the knight effortlessly, turning back to her.

  “I will help you flee this town, and you must run as far as your legs will carry.” Edward announced, resting his hand on her shoulder. “We will deal with the rest.”.

  Thomas’ eyes were squinted at the captain, a nasty snarl on his face.

  “We? I am not helping her.” Thomas scowled, gesturing to Eliza. His eyes stared her up and down, in utter hatred. “I say we turn her in to The King, give her what she deserves.”.

  Edward raised his hand to his head, cursing under his breath. He gave an irritated look to the young knight.

  “It was not an offer; it was an order.” Edward spat, “Unless, you wish for me to show The King that darling letter you wrote for his wife.”.

  Thomas’ face turned a sick-white. He shook his head, backing away. Edward scoffed, gripping onto the sword on his belt. Nodding to her, he gestured to it.

  “Can you fight?” Edward asked, pulling the sword out of its hold. He swung it through the air, prepping for trouble.

  Eliza’s brow raised, as she reached for the nearest barrel of swords, pulling one from the bucket. It was a silver, sharp fencing sword, alike to the one her father owned.

  Raising it into the air, she elegantly sliced it through, twirling it effortlessly through her fingers. Thomas flinched; Edward stood amused. Bringing it to a halt, she held it in mid-air, inches away from Edward’s nose.

  “Impressive.” He smirked, pulling his own back. Thomas rolled his eyes, pretending to fidget with his own sword.

  “For a girl.”.

  Edward sighed, giving her the, he’s-only-jealous-and-he-knows-it, look. His eyes peered through the peephole in the door, watching for any passers-by. Turning back, he pushed the door open with a nod.

  “Here are the rules; stay behind me, and please,” He stared over at Eliza, “…Stay alive.”.

  18

  The Final Salute

  The trio stepped out of the hut, with Edward on stand-by.

  “This place stinks,” Thomas groaned, kicking muck across the field. “What idiot had the bright idea of building a training ground here?”.

  Edward pressed his hand down on Thomas’ sword, pushing it back into the hold. Eliza stood adjusting her hood with her sword-free hand, making sure it covered her face.

  “It was your father; didn’t he have some bright ideas?”. Edward replied, with a hint of sarcasm. “And foolish ones.”.

  The younger knight’s face flushed pink. Eliza let out a light laugh, watching the smoke blow out of his nose.

  “No, he was involved, but it couldn’t have been his idea.” Thomas scowled. “My father was a proud, brave man.”.

  “Proud, is right.” Edward said, “He never did stop talking about his mighty achievements, about thriving in glory, and all that.”.

  “He died in glory!” Thomas yelled, gripping Edward’s bandaged shirt. “I swore to myself when he died that I would live up to his name, and I don’t appreciate you portraying him as a fool, when he was anything but!”.

  Thomas took a loud gulp, sucking in his lip. He kept face, standing with his back tall, but she could see through it. Never had she seen a person filled with such whole-hearted anger, so suddenly.

  Edward stood with a solemn face; his gaze fallen to his feet. He showed no reaction to the outburst, no shock.

  A tension filled the space, as all three stared at one another.

  “Fine,” Edward whispered, “I apologise.”.

  Thomas took a step back. He rubbed harshly at his eyes, hitching breaths. Nodding, he pushed past Edward and Eliza, his forearm covering his eyes.

  Eliza glanced behind her, watching as he slugged away. He stopped at the fence, leaning against it.

  She was no expert, but Eliza could sense his hurt, without knowing what had surged his sudden rage.

  “What was that?” Eliza murmured, “I’ve seen a dozen angry, but never like that.”.

  Edward sighed, beginning to walk over towards the fence.

  “The result of something my typical remarks tend to forget,” He whispered. “The kid takes a lot to heart, he’s not as tough as he acts.”.

  Eliza gave a blank stare, watching the captain examine his own words. Fastening his belt, he gestured for her to follow.

  Skipping to his side, she walked with her sword swerving through the air. The crunching of the grass beneath their feet, the echoing winds; it all gave her an uneasy, explosive feeling.

  “What now?” She said, averting her gaze to his face. His strong chin was tilted upwards, confidence radiating in his stride.

  He looked over to Thomas, and for a moment, she feared he would abandon her completely.

  “I do what I pledged to,” He announced, “Protect the people, from others, and themselves.”.

  There was no direct answer in his claim, and what little trust she had left in people shifted inside her chest. Eliza realised how both knights had their sword in a tight hold, fittingly attached to their belt.

  Staring at her own clothing, she pulled her skirt out at the waist, carefully lowering the sword inside it. She tied the metal against her leg with a loose strand.

  The metal pressed against her skin, but it was better to take the risk, than visibly carry a sword in her hand. They met the fence, as Edward creaked it open.

  Thomas was first to march through, hurrying to get his blackmailed job over. Eliza, watching him walk off, thought of an old saying her father once said, in all his wisdom.

  ‘When a person is hurting, the greatest lamentation one could give, is time, and the healing it may bring.’ She recalled.

  Trapped inside her bittersweet recollections, she had not noticed the taller knight, leaning down to her face.

  “Are you alright?” Edward asked, lightly shaking her shoulder.

  Her eyes widened like misty-blue stones, as she helplessly mumbled a response to the awaiting knight.

  “Yes,” Eliza sighed, shaking her thoughts away. “I’m fine.”.

  The two, and Eliza, stomped across the brick alleys. She peered over their shoulder blades, rushing to stand at Edward’s side.

  “We will cross the town, and guide you out to the forest,” Edward began, nodding to Eliza, “Please, keep your face covered.”.

  Thomas smirked, poking his snarky face in hers, still scarlet from his raging outburst.

  “Yes, please do.” He scoffed, “People will know something is not right, if they see him with a girl.”.

  “I beg your pardon?”.

  “Don’t deny it,” Thomas taunted, laughing to himself. He turned to Eliza. “Witch, when have you ever seen him with a girl he’s not arresting?”.

  Edward gave him a stern look, shoving the younger away. Eliza rolled her eyes, wondering if returning to the tower would be a better option, than spending her day with the fool.

  “Don’t call her that,” Edward spat, “Remember, it is our duty to help the innocent.”.

&n
bsp; Thomas’ grin widened. He flickered his eyes between Edward and Eliza, slugging an arm on her shoulder. Eliza tensed, shifting away.

  “Oh, I see.” Thomas laughed, “It all makes perfect sense now.”.

  “What are you suggesting?” Edward scowled, raising a finger to the knight. “You tread on thin ice, kid.”.

  A gust of wind blew past them, as creaking signs swung in the distance. The bitter scent of ale was in the air, in the most-crooked part of town.

  “I see why you are helping the witch, why you are letting her escape.” Thomas snickered. “You care for her, don’t you?”.

  Edward turned pink, narrowing his eyes at the knight. For a split moment, his eyes caught Eliza’s.

  “Don’t interrogate me, Thomas.” Edward muttered, shutting his eyes. “Learn to stay in your place, and it’ll do you good.”.

  Thomas snorted a reply, shifting a snobby chin to the side. Edward gripped the knight’s shoulder, shoving him along. Eliza knew he tried to hide it, but she saw the flaming red in his face.

  The cobbled streets echoed beneath them, as Thomas ran his hand over the sharp walls.

  Wooden signs hung overhead, as the sky darkened to a grey shade. Thomas slowed his walk, humming jollily under his breath.

  Eliza felt a brick hit her foot, before a spinning sick-feeling washed over her. She tipped forward, falling through the air in a swish.

  The ground spun, as she did. In seconds, she fell head-first towards the ground.

  Edward’s arm swooped down, and seconds before she hit the stone, a strong arm gripped her. Eliza wobbled, balancing on bent knees. Her fencing sword was still in hand, and she sighed in relief, seeing it only inches from striking her chest.

  “Close,” Edward mumbled, glaring over at satisfied-looking Thomas. “Too close.”.

  Eliza’s blood boiled, as she noticed the younger’s foot inches from her. Edward’s face turned grey, his eyes like snake-like splits.

  “Are you mad?” Edward yelled, his veins bulging out of his temples. His face was a bright red, turning purple at the cheeks.

  He heaved his free arm underneath her waist, tightly hoisting her to her feet. Eliza shakily stood, gripping onto his collar.

  The sword inside her skirt temptingly pressed against her skin, as she strolled toward Thomas.

  “Have you not heard the village rhyme, for messing with a witch?”.

  Her fist clenched, and there was a strong urge to punch his face. An idea came to mind; less gruesome, more effective.

  “Here is a tale to spread far and wide of a witch, and a boy, who dared to strive.”.

  A smirk met her face, mumbling beneath her breath with an undeniable grin.

  “If the boy shall refuse to be tame, they will hex his soul and flee his name,” She whispered, seeing the fearful spark in his eyes. Eliza knew that all she did was recite a rhyme she had heard, years ago.

  When King Richard began witch hunting, the children of the village made their own jolly rhyme, picking on others as usual.

  “If he dares do his fellows wrong, they shall sing their wicked song.”.

  The village children, unaware of the extremities and risk they put themselves under, made their own song for witchcraft.

  “If his sword is swung too late, they call for him to meet his fate!”.

  Thomas stepped away from her, pretending to laugh. His voice shook, and she could sense the uneasiness she brought.

  “But who are they, might you ask? They are the curses of our town’s witchcraft.”.

  She felt Edward grip her arm, pulling her behind him. Thomas kept his eyes on her, sharply.

  “Their spells, curses and castings are grim! Witches’ cauldrons are filled to the brim!” She sung, giggling humourlessly to herself.

  He clutched one arm to the other, shuffling himself along. She gazed at the signs hanging above, and a determined Edward, tugging her through the city’s nooks and crannies.

  “Listen close, listen here, witches are the ones to fear! They’ll steal you from your nesting bed or cast a spell over your very head!”.

  Edward pulled them to a halt, pressing her against the wall. Recognising the homes, she realised how close they were. Bristling winds blew past, as the smell of rotten apple cores entered her mouth.

  “Witches in the back, witches in the front, witches we are destined to hunt! Alas, do not make the mistake we did! Witches will find you; they already did!” Eliza sung, smirking cruelly at the knight.

  She felt no genuine happiness, but a slip of satisfaction from frightening him.

  “That’s enough,” Edward scolded, shaking her. He leant in, whispering; “Don’t encourage him.”.

  Sighing, Eliza agreed, giving one final look to Thomas. The boy’s lip was trembling in a restless manner, his eyes shining in the light.

  Getting closer, she could hear distant shouting, perking up her ears. Sounds of screaming and rage and stamping of feet.

  Eliza threw her hand over her mouth, in a flood of surprise. Thomas’ head poked over her shoulder, as she felt his jaw lower like a line missing the hook.

  People were everywhere, elbowing and shoving into one another. Children clung to their parents, and two men stood closest to the wall, slamming their fists into each other’s faces.

  The villagers were a mob of beige and crisp white cloth, like a flock of distressed birds.

  The loud voices filled the space, and it was clear something was wrong. Eliza scanned the town for the two newly-weds, but they were nowhere to be seen.

  “It’s a pandemonium.” Thomas whispered; his mouth fallen to the floor. Edward nodded, turning back to them.

  “Stay behind me,” Edward lowly warned, motioning to Eliza. “Take hold of my arm, and I’ll guide you, while you keep your head low.”.

  Eliza hesitated, lightly reaching out her hand. With a nod, she gripped hold of his arm and fixed her hood. Thomas clutched his sword, prepared for the worst.

  The noise was unbearable, and the tension vibrated painfully in her ears, like a banging drum. Eliza could only see people nearest, from balloon-faced men to wailing children. Her sight was a flash of people’s clothing, and she turned to see Thomas, who’s chin sat over her shoulder.

  His face was greying-white, as his cracked lips quivered in the air. He shot gleaming eyes from Edward to the crowds, like he was awaiting the punchline to a cruel, tormented joke.

  Her feet followed Edward’s, as he shoved past the hordes of people. A few angsty, crude words of abuse were shouted their way, as Edward effortlessly cleared their path.

  “No, no we can’t do this.” Thomas trembled. Eliza froze, feeling two hands grip her arm.

  The knight clung to her like a shaking leaf, his head whipping from sea to sky, in the claustrophobic crowds.

  His shivering breaths brushed her own pale face, as she was thrown into the crowds, like being sucked into an ocean.

  All she could see was the backs or fronts of people, from the tidiest of waistcoats to stained white linen.

  Eliza felt her heart racing inside her chest, as her hands shook.

  Raising her own arms from beneath her hood, she elbowed people out of the way, making their task easier. Thomas had let go of her arm, amidst the screaming, the chaotic atmosphere that would never end well.

  Edward’s grip sent a striking pain into her hand, and her hood faded out her vision. Eliza’s head pounded like a thousand shattered glasses, and she focused directly on him.

  “Where are we going?” She yelled over the noise, squeezing Edward’s arm.

  “To the other side of town, where we can avoid this chaos!” Edward shouted back, unable to look at her.

  Eliza felt the rough arms of rougher people being shoved against her, as they pushed through the crowds.

  Edward inaudibly yelled at the pedestrians, clearing their path like a sheepdog and its sheep.

  Glancing behind her, Eliza saw nothing but beige and white. Thomas was gone, sucked into the ugly, squashed cr
owd.

  “Where’s Thomas?”.

  She could see the edge of the central town, and they were inches from freedom. A few more shoves, and she would be free. Edward’s mouth was drooling wide, and his eyes sparked open. The Captain turned left to right like a crazed dog, awakened in alarm.

  “Kid!” Edward yelled, freezing. “For goodness’ sakes, he’s got stuck!”.

  She stood on nerve-aching tiptoes, scanning overhead for the young knight. The dark and frizzled hairs of commoners blended in the mob, but her eyes settled on fair-haired knight.

  “There!” Eliza shouted, pointing her finger over a scowling man’s head. Dust blew into her eyes, making them sting like open cuts, but she focused on the knight. They lost him once, it would be a shame to do it twice.

  Thomas’ half-seen face was petrified, as he slammed his fists into the crowds in his path. The boy struggled for air, and as Eliza stared further on, she spotted his target.

  King Richard towered over the crowds, roaring with scarce lungs. His face was stretched and his eyes wide in blinded hatred.

  A sword sliced through the air, parting the distressed crowds like frightened bugs.

  His exquisite wedding robes had been drenched in muck and a spine-chilling crimson. The King was out for blood as his sword penetrated the air, and the frightening factor, was how far he would take it.