Witch Queen

by Kim Richardson

  But I wasn’t defeated.

  Within seconds my own magic countered. The pain changed to a warmth that spread through my entire body and fed me the strength and confidence I needed to continue. Whatever she had hit me with hadn’t been nearly as strong as the witch king’s magic. Maybe none of the witches yielded that kind of power. I hoped I was right.

  I lay still on the ground and played the weakling they expected me to be. The other witches hadn’t moved. It appeared that they were going to challenge me one trial at a time. My spirits lifted, and I smiled. I knew without a doubt that the first witch couldn’t kill me.

  I rolled to my feet, and although I was a little shaky at first, my legs found their strength again, and I smiled.

  “Guess your grandma needs to teach you a few lessons,” I said as I reached down and picked up my witch blade.

  The witch snarled at me and bit her tongue until blood oozed from the sides of her mouth.

  I raised my brows. “You better tell your man to watch out where you put that mouth of yours.”

  Her eyes widened, and I braced myself for another of her fireballs. But she simply gave me a wicked glare and made her way back to her place among the circle of witches.

  I beamed at my temporary victory. They didn’t need to tell me. I knew I had triumphed over the first witch. I had triumphed, and I was just getting started.

  My victory was short lived, however, and I was suddenly hit in the chest by a stream of mist-like magical energy. The force pushed me violently backwards, but I managed to stay on my feet. The magic burrowed inside me, and my limbs stiffened like metal posts. I toppled over like a dead tree with my blade still in my hand. My face hit the ground first and half buried into the soil and dirt. It was a miracle I didn’t impale myself on my weapon. Blood poured into my mouth. I knew I’d bitten down on my tongue, but I couldn’t feel it.

  I heard laughter again, this time louder and nearer. My body had solidified, and I feared my limbs had turned to stone. The magic stung and engulfed me completely. I smelled the sour scent of the familiars we had encountered in the canyon, and I concentrated on willing my blood magic to surge through my body. When I felt the familiar pain of a body that was no longer enchanted, I relished it. I had freed myself from the binding spell.

  I looked up into the smiling face of the greasy-haired white witch.

  His smile faded as I struggled clumsily to my feet. I was little slower this time around because my body felt like it had been filled with metal. But I still managed to get up with a little dignity. The white witch backed away from me and made no attempt to hide his disappointment.

  I shook the stiffness from my legs.

  “Guess I’m not as weak as you thought,” I hissed through my teeth, doing my best not to fall over. But it still hurt like hell.

  The witch turned on his heel and moved back to his place in the circle.

  My head swirled, and I blinked the spots from my eyes. I concentrated on not vomiting. Something felt different, as though my blood magic hadn’t completely healed me. I could see that I still had open wounds all over my body. It was just like Ada had said—magic was limited. I couldn’t use it indefinitely. My magic or my body would eventually run out. This was perhaps why there were five trials one after another. They expected to weaken me to the point where I couldn’t heal at all.

  Above and around me, murmurs and gasps echoed throughout the arena. I could feel all the eyes on me, the imposter, the fake. I tried to ignore the chanting of die half-breed that spread across the arena like a wildfire.

  Even before I recognized the clan color, I recognized the bald head and silver eyes of the next witch. I knew he was from the Augur clan and was a seer just like Maya. I had no idea what to expect from him, and it terrified me.

  The augur witch smiled. His eyes glazed over, and then they gleamed like tiny moons.

  “You have been blessed with luck, half-breed. But it won’t last. No witch can resist my powers.”

  I glowered. “Luck? Is that what you call it? I’d call it skill, strength and maybe a little desperation, but never luck. I couldn’t survive on luck.”

  The augur chuckled. His eyes were spinning like tops.

  “You were fortunate to resist lesser magic,” he said. “Let’s see if you can resist…yourself.” With a great clap of his hands, a giant energy wave burst from him.

  There’s no way I could have outrun the wave, so I stood and braced myself. The wave hit me, and I stumbled back. A warm pulsing force entered my mind, and then all I could see was darkness.

  CHAPTER 24

  I STOOD IN A room that looked and felt vaguely familiar. The moist air smelled of mildew and cabbage. I didn’t know how long I stood there, but as I blinked and blinked again, I began to realize that I did recognize this room. I knew this room. This was our shabby home back in the Pit.

  A heard the faint sounds of hearts beating, I knew it wasn’t my own, but it was near, pulsing like the beating of a drum.

  I felt relieved.

  “I’m home,” I whispered to myself. “I’ve…I’ve made it back…” But from where?

  I couldn’t remember. My head felt numb, and yet there was something there, clinging to the edges of my mind. I felt lost, like something was missing. But I just couldn’t find it or explain it. I tried to grasp at my memories, but all I found was blank, nothing. I wasn’t sure what was wrong with me, but I felt different, lightheaded, like I’d had too much cheap ale. The world around me bounced and wavered. It kept shifting, never settling, not quite real.

  A moan came from behind me.

  I whirled around with my heart in my throat and reached for my weapons. But I wasn’t wearing my weapons belt. There was nothing there. Weird, I always kept a weapon on me.

  A woman was kneeling in the center of the room with her back towards me. Her long black hair cascaded down her back in waves, and she was wearing a forest-green cloak. There was something oddly familiar about the shape of her body, about her hair…

  “Who are you?” I moved towards the woman. “Excuse me? Who are you, and what are you doing in my home?”

  The stranger was holding her stomach, and her head hung low over her chest.

  I reached over and grabbed her shoulder, pulling her around to face me.

  “I said, who are—”

  “Elena?” said my mother.

  I staggered back in surprise. “Mother?”

  My mind whirled wildly. “But, you’re…how…?”

  “Elena,” my mother said again. Her face was streaked with tears, and she continued to hold her stomach.

  “Why, Elena? Why?”

  My throat closed up, and I had to force the words out of my mouth. “Why what? How is this possible?”

  I took a careful step forward and examined my mother carefully. How could she be here with me now? My father had killed her years ago when I was just a child…or had he? My memory of my mother was unclear, and I couldn’t hold on to it. My memories hid in the far corners of my mind. They called for my attention, but I just couldn’t retrieve them.

  Was I going mad?

  My mother pulled her hands away, and they were covered in blood.

  “Why?” she cried, staring at her hands. She looked up to me. The pain on her face brought tears to my eyes.

  “Why would you do this to me? To your mother? I love you, my darling girl. Why would you do this to your mama?”

  “What are you saying?” I cried. Only then did I notice that my mother was kneeling in a pool of her own blood.

  “Mother, you’re hurt. You’ve lost a lot of blood. I have to get you to a healer.”

  I started forward but I halted when I saw the fear in her eyes.

  “Mother,” I sobbed. I didn’t understand.

  “Who did this? Who did this to you?”

  Her lips moved as though she could not say the words, and then she muttered. “You did. You did this.”

  I gasped. “Mother, you’re not thinking clearly.
You’re hurt. Let me get help.”

  “You did this,” my mother continued. “You killed me.”

  My blood went cold.

  “Mother, you’re not making any sense. You know I would never—”

  “You killed me.” My mother pointed to my hands.

  I looked down to my hands and cried out. In my right hand was a bloodied dagger. I screamed and tossed the weapon to the ground, horrified.

  “No, no, no!” My body shook. I felt hot and cold all at once. My throat tightened as though invisible hands were choking me. I couldn’t breathe.

  “I didn’t—I couldn’t—this isn’t real.”

  Nausea hit me, and I was sick until the bile burned my throat and nose. I couldn’t see through the blur of tears in my eyes.

  Had I done this? Had I killed my own mother? My own flesh and blood?

  My hands were stained with my mother’s blood.

  “No. This can’t be!”

  I squeezed my eyes shut and pressed my hands over my ears in a desperate attempt to block it all out. But the nightmare grew darker and threatened to pull me under.

  My mother sobbed. “I loved you more than anything. I gave up everything for you…and you’ve killed me.”

  I opened my eyes just as she collapsed on the floor.

  “Mother!” I rushed over to her and pulled her into my arms, rocking her.

  But she was limp and heavy and cold. I held on to her desperately, but I felt her life force slip away. I’d killed my own mother…

  My guilt sent me cascading into a blackness so deep that I knew I would never wake. It was going to consume my mind until there was nothing left but madness.

  Or was it just a figment of my imagination? Was I trying to cope with what I’d done? Had I believed lies all these years?

  My head throbbed, and a searing pain shot behind my eyes. I couldn’t stop shaking. The room spun. The world around me spun out of control. I looked down to see my mother’s body shimmering like a ghost, as though she wasn’t really there.

  This wasn’t real.

  “Yes, it’s very real.”

  A voice behind me had read my thoughts, and I felt a chill through my veins. I knew that voice. I looked down. My mother was still cradled in my arms. A moment ago she had almost disappeared.

  “You killed her.”

  That voice again.

  I clenched my jaw and gently laid my mother’s body on the ground. I couldn’t look at her face for fear that I would lose myself in my guilt. I could still hear that strange beating, like the heartbeat of a god.

  I staggered to my feet and turned towards the voice.

  I blinked at another version of—me.

  A perfect duplicate of myself was looking back at me. Even the small scar on the top of my left eyebrow was the same. The way I stood was the same. It really was another version of me. It was almost as if I were staring into a tall mirror. But this wasn’t a mirror image. It was another person, like an identical twin.

  I was going mad. Had I died and was this my own personal hell?

  The other-me smiled. Her image was so familiar that it sent a painful jolt through me.

  “You’ve been living a lie for too long. You must accept it. You killed her. Accept it now.”

  “I could never kill my own mother in cold blood.”

  The words tasted as bitter on my tongue as they felt in my heart, and my eyes stung with grief.

  “You did,” said the other-me with a voice that was cold and without emotion. “But you can make the pain go away. You can make things right again.”

  “But how?” I tasted the salt of my tears around my lips. “How can I make this right? How can I live with this pain? With the knowledge of what I’ve done? I will go mad with grief.”

  “You can make it right.”

  The other-me handed me a golden sword. “You must kill yourself. Only when you die will things be right again. Only then will the pain stop and this nightmare go away.”

  I shook my head. “No, it’s not possible. This can’t be real.”

  The throbbing in my head increased, and when I wiped my nose, the back of my hand was covered in blood.

  The other-me’s eyes widened. “See, it’s already starting.”

  She grabbed my hand, put the sword in it, and gave my hand a squeeze.

  “If you don’t want Mother to die, if you don’t want Jon to die…then do it, Elena. You must do it.”

  “Jon?” I shook my head. My heart ached. “Where’s Jon?”

  The other-me smiled. “He’s dying. But you can help him.”

  She took my hand with the sword in it and twisted it around until the tip of the blade pointed to my left breast.

  “You must kill yourself to save him—to save your mother—your life for theirs. You know this is the right thing to do. Your life means nothing, but theirs means everything…do you want them to live?”

  My lips trembled as I stared at the sharp edge of the blade.

  “Of course I want them to live…”

  My eyes darted back to my mother’s form.

  “Your mother will be alive again,” said the other-me.

  “Kill the darkness, Elena. Kill yourself, and then you’ll be with Mother again. We’ll be a family again. You, your mother, Rose, and Jon. Don’t you want that?”

  “I do…but,” I shook my head and swallowed back the bile that rose in my throat.

  But there was a little voice deep within me that told me this wasn’t real. My mother had died at the hands of my own father.

  I found my voice. “I can’t.”

  “Do it now!” the other-me screamed. “You must do it. Do it!”

  The other-me’s face darkened and twisted into something repulsive, something that didn’t look like me anymore.

  And then something inside me snapped.

  I pushed the other-me back. “You’re not real.”

  I said it again with more conviction as my mind slowly cleared. “You’re not real. This…Mother…I didn’t do this. I didn’t kill her. My father killed her. This is magic…the seer’s magic.”

  The other-me snarled. Her face—my face—warped. Her eyes went completely black, and she lunged at me.

  The other-me pushed me in the face with the palm of her hand, and I staggered back. I didn’t realize that she’d taken the sword from my hand until I saw it in hers.

  She dove at me, and the sword missed my neck by an inch as I jumped back. Her movements were fluid and calculated—perfect, just like mine.

  She had stolen my moves.

  As the other-me got closer, a primal rage rose in me, and I dropped low and spun around fast, sweeping my leg across the floor. The other-me went crashing down. But she surged to her feet and swung the sword at me so hard that it would have taken my head off if it had connected.

  I leaped back and ducked. Without stopping, I dove forward and slammed my elbow into the soft part of her back.

  The other-me staggered forward but recovered quickly. Too quickly.

  She came at me swinging. Her movements were fluid like a dancer.

  Is that what I look like when I fight?

  The other-me swung, but I blocked the strike with my forearm, twisted and kicked her hard on the knee. I heard a bone break and a groan, but she spun and kicked me hard in the stomach.

  I pitched forward and hit the ground. I knew that she was right behind me, ready to finish me off.

  The so-called silver dagger that the seer’s magic had made me believe I had used to kill my own mother lay on the floor in front of me.

  I grasped the dagger in my hands. Whether the weapon was real or not didn’t matter anymore. All that mattered was that in this reality it was real, and I could use it.

  I moved instinctively and came up behind the other-me. And as she turned, I thrust the sword into her stomach.

  She blinked once, her face a mask of fury, and then her body began to evaporate until she disappeared like a specter.

  I stagger
ed back and braced myself. The room spun faster and faster until the sick escaped me, and I crashed onto my knees.

  The world stopped. My stomach settled, and I blinked and looked around.

  I was back in the arena.

  Slowly, my mind cleared as though a fog had lifted from it. I was on all fours on the ground, like a wounded animal. Warm liquid trickled from my nose and ears. I looked around the arena, but the faces were still blurry. I could see that their lips moved, but I couldn’t hear what they said over the pounding in my ears.

  I stared at my hands. They were shaking, and no matter how much I willed them to stop, they wouldn’t.

  How long had I been here, fighting with myself, fighting my own demons? Hours? Minutes?

  It felt like a lifetime. I felt like a fool.

  And as my eyes adjusted, I could see the smiles on the audience’s faces. I must have put on quite a show for them—the mad half-breed.

  I gasped as I struggled to stand. I’d endured three witch trials and lived. But my mind wasn’t on my victories, it was on something else.

  I spotted the augur witch, and I attacked.

  I reached out and swung at him with my last drop of strength.

  The augur’s silver eyes widened as my fist connected with his jaw, and he stumbled back. I was already on him when his back hit the ground.

  “You son of a bitch!” I spat and knocked out his front teeth with a left hook. “I’m going to kill you! Kill you for what you did to me, you bastard! You silver-eyed prick!”

  I put all my weight into another swing, and the witch’s eyes rolled into the back of his head. He stopped moving.

  But I didn’t stop. I couldn’t.

  In a wild fury, I hit him again and again until I heard the bones in my knuckles shatter, until the witch’s face was unrecognizable. His face looked like a smashed raspberry pie, but I kept swinging.

  And just when I believed I’d killed the bastard, something hit me in my back, and I pitched forward and landed in the grass. I could smell magic.

  The four remaining trial witches moved towards me. Their pendants glowed, and they were furious.

  I could see my own death reflected in their eyes.

  “Stop!”