by Matt Gross
“Hmm...Maybe I's believe yous.” Tippy fully relaxed and dropped his arms to his sides uncurling his fists. “What do yous need with me?”
“Kira is lost and we are trying to find her home. I was hoping you might know where that may be.” Khayin side hugged Kira. She looked at him, but didn't flinch.
“What does she need there?” he asked, rubbing his chin.
What kind of question is that? “It's her home, Tippy.”
“I's know, but there is nothing there now.”
“What do you mean there's nothing there?” Kira fumed. Khayin could feel her tense up.
Khayin leaned in close and whispered in her ear. “Careful, we don't want a fight.” She nodded slowly.
“Well, if the rumors are true, there is nothing there,” Tippy repeated.
“That doesn't answer her question, Tippy. Did the island disappear? Did the people leave? What happened?” Khayin started to get a little frustrated.
“There was a war. No more witches. They's are all dead, except your girlfriend there, of course.”
Kira grabbed Khayin's bicep in a vice like grip. Her eyes were wide. He could see the start of tears. He placed his hand over hers and gave her a slight nod. He looked back to Tippy.
“Look, Tippy, can you help us or not?” Khayin asked impatiently.
“I's can help yous, but yous don't need directions, I's can send yous there.” He put his fists back to his sides and pushed out his chest.
“I want those directions anyway,” Khayin said. “And the port.”
“I's can, for a price,” he said smugly.
“Of course, Tippy.” Khayin reached for his chip purse and started to fish out some chips.
“Five thousand chips,” Tippy said proudly.
“That's outrageous, you little thief.” It was Khayin's turn to get angry.
“That's my's price, take it or leave it.”
Khayin seethed. He put his money purse away. Kira elbowed him. Khayin just shook his head. He reached into a pocket and pulled out the gold coin they received from the Atlantean. He flipped to Tippy who deftly caught it and examined it.
“Where'd yous get this?”
“That's not important. It's yours on three conditions.”
“What? Name it,” he said never looking from the coin.
“One, you give us safe passage to the island.”
“Done. Next?”
“Two; give us directions so that we don't have to come see you if we ever need to get there again.”
“Done. And the last one?”
“The last one I will name at a later date.”
Tippy looked up from the coin and stared at Khayin. Khayin didn't flinch. “Done.” The faerie waved a hand at a female sprite sitting on a couch out of the line of sight. “Go grab that map in the top right top drawer of my's desk.” The sprite did as instructed. A minute later she returned holding a rolled-up map. “Give it to our friend Khayin.”
The sprite walked over to Khayin and handed him the map. She was small and beautiful, but she reminded him too much of a child. She didn't let go right away and they locked eyes. She bit her lower lip and looked him over with a lustful purpose. Khayin nodded and yanked at the map hard to free it from her hand. She stood there a moment longer before returning to her seat. Faeries. Khayin shook his head.
“Step into the water if yous are satisfied,” Tippy said.
Khayin unrolled the map and examined it. The map displayed Central America. He found Panama, but nothing stood out in the Atlantic so he checked the Pacific. There, about 25 miles off shore, was an island circled and titled, in childlike writing, 'really, really, really, bad witches.'
“Everything OK?” Tippy asked.
“Yep.” Khayin and Kira stepped into the shallow water of the canal. Tippy jolted to attention and spun around several times in place. He hooted and hollered and just when Khayin thought Tippy might fall over from dizziness, Tippy stopped, bowed, clapped his hands once and they were gone.
Chapter 18 The Island
The water was cool, refreshing, and not too cold. They were in up to mid-calf. Khayin doubled over and nearly lost his breakfast. Kira felt badly for him, but she couldn't help but smile. They stood on the east shore of the island. There was no port. The island wasn't easily accessible and the witches wanted it that way.
Kira turned around and looked out over the Pacific. She saw ship masts and parts of hulls breaking the water's surface. The beach was littered with the lifeless bodies of both witches and sailors. She was grateful that she didn't recognized any of her sisters, only witches from different tribes. Seems like the faerie was right. What happened here?
They proceeded inland. The tall trees loomed over them. The trees stood over 400 feet, the branches providing a canopy that blocked out the sun and cast the entire island in a deep shadow. Nothing along their trek to Kira's village indicated that any kind of fighting had taken place. The forest was silent. No birds sang. No squirrels skittered. No wildlife at all stirred. Something didn't feel right, and she was nervous.
“What's going on, Kira?” Khayin broke the silence first.
“I don't know. Seems like everything, but the trees, is dead.” She had a bad feeling. She started to sweat and her heart beat slightly faster.
“Were those your sisters on the beach?” He sounded concerned.
“No, other tribes.” She moved more quickly. She was anxious and worried. “We're close. It's just over this hill,” she said as she ran up the incline.
Khayin followed behind. The hill rested at the east side of the settlement. She could see the tall structure that had been her home as a child. The domain of the Crone, it was the tallest building in the village. It's still standing. Good sign, right? I'm talking to myself.
“That building ahead was my home. It's still standing. That's a good sign, right?” She asked Khayin. She was beginning to feel hope.
“Yeah, let's hope so.” He didn't sound convinced.
Kira reached the top of the hill and all hope was lost. Before her were her sisters. They were scattered and lying dead all around the village. She fell to her knees as she saw with her eyes what her heart had already told her. Among her sister's bodies were the bodies of those who had attacked. She saw no insignia to identify who they were, but she did see a couple of Battlemages, the kind that she and Khayin had run into in Vegas. It took every bit of will to keep her from crying out in rage and anguish. The hairs on the back of her neck raised. Her skin became hot and started to turn pink with the heat.
The scene was gruesome but the smell was worse. Rotting corpses and human feces permeated the air. People didn't simply lie dead; corpses were burnt, some with the flesh melted to the bone. Bodies were torn in half, missing heads and other limbs. Some were disemboweled or had holes in the chest where their hearts had been torn from them. Kira’s emotions were at war with each other. She didn't know if she wanted to be mad or sad, so she settled for both.
“Kira,” Khayin said.
She whipped around to find him standing behind her only a few feet away. Her eyes were pooled with tears. Magic coursed through her veins and her tattoos started to radiate. Her heart pounded in her chest; it felt like it would explode and a part of her wished it would.
In the softest voice she was capable of at that moment she said, “Khayin, not right now.” He nodded. “I need to be alone. I'm going to search my house. Can you search around to see who might have been behind this and why?”
“Of course.”
“Thank you.” She spun on her heel and headed to the domain of the Crone.
****
Khayin wandered the village. The various homes were made of wood, like log cabins. He tried to be as respectful as he could around the bodies he recognized as being her sisters. The homes were damaged beyond any repair. Some were burnt, while others were crushed. Magic had definitely been used in the fight. The sheer amount of corpses on both sides made it hard to tell who had actually won, if what ha
d happened here could be called a victory by anyone at all.
He felt disgusted by so much violence. He found it ironic, as he himself had no qualms for killing people he felt deserved it, but as he walked past bodies of children a wave of sorrow washed over him. There was no excuse to kill a child. Everywhere he looked he saw the same. He could only imagine what Kira was going through.
The west side of the village housed the slaves, though the term “housed” could be used only loosely. It was more a scattering of mud huts with straw roofs. Khayin even saw some tents. The pen was surrounded by large sharp wooden spikes crisscrossed as a fence. There were even more dead scattered in the slave pen. Men and boys, slaughtered, like fish in a barrel. They had had no chance. Whoever had attacked the sisters didn't want to leave any witnesses behind.
Khayin wished he had Millennium, but he doubted they'd be there long enough. He had directed the bird to stay with the gypsies to keep an eye on Muma. He knew what she was and he didn't entirely trust her. With no Millennium, he'd have to rely on his own senses.
He got his first clue when he saw a familiar black Lycra suit among the bodies of the dead. Battlemage. This has got to be the work of the same people from Chicago, but what do they want with these witches? He searched the body and found nothing of use.
Khayin stood just outside the slave pen. He thought it was messed up that people still had slaves, but slaves or not, it didn't call for the massacre that had befallen the witches. Khayin made a decision.
This can't go unpunished. These bastards are going to pay.
He saw a flicker. Then nothing. Khayin readied a pistol. He saw it again before it came into full view in front of him. The Battlemage swiped at him with a clawed hand and missed. Khayin's reflexes were faster. His blood ran warm and his breathing became more rapid. The mage flickered out of sight. Khayin sensed the mage behind him before it could strike, and he spun and fired. His eyes saw nothing, but the bullet hit true. The spray of blood appeared first, then the mage. The mage flickered out again.
How did they find us?
Khayin felt four razor claws open up his back. The blood began to run immediately; the cuts were deep. He stiffened. The adrenaline numbed the pain, but he still felt it. Khayin waited and listened. He saw the flicker out of the corner of his eye, so rolled to his left, putting distance between him and where his instincts said his opponent was. He pulled the trigger, the shot loud. The battlemage stood with his hand outstretched, as if he had been going to cast a spell before Khayin put a bullet through his head.
Khayin didn't have time to celebrate his victory before the ground shook. Doors flew off their hinges and the roofs of cabins flew straight into the air. A tree uprooted and demolished a house. A large boulder rose and leveled a home on the other side of the village. Chaos erupted. Khayin didn't feel any change in weather, but he felt powerful magic in the air. Then suddenly debris of all sizes whirled and started launching itself haphazardly.
Khayin had no defense for the onslaught. He quickly dismissed hiding behind anything and instead tried to outrun it. Before he could get clear of the storm he was lifted high in the air. His body was slammed into the slaves’ pen fence. He felt himself being impaled through the back. Blood sprayed from his chest. He looked down to see a wooden spike pierce through him. There was excruciating pain, then everything went black.
****
After watching Khayin begin his search, Kira entered the large house. She first saw the stairs where she and her sister used play, in ruins. Wood from the broken stairs lay in piles all over the floor. She saw several bodies, none of which were her mother or sister Brianna. Everything was surreal, like she was an outsider in a stranger's home. As Kira moved aside a broken chair and caught a glimpse of her initials carved on its back, she felt a sudden wave of guilt wash over her. Half-burnt tapestries lay crumpled on the floor beneath where they once hung. She moved to the audience chamber where the Crone had always held court. She and her sister had never been permitted in that room and she remembered the day when she was finally allowed entry and her sister was not. It was that day that she saw the hatred boiling in her sister's eyes. The room looked as much destroyed as the other. The Crone's throne still sat on its pedestal, while behind the throne lay a large broken ritual table.
She sensed it before she saw it. The magic in the air became alive. In front of the ceremonial table a Battlemage flickered into view. A gout of flame shot from the mage’s hands, Kira dodged to the side. She channeled her magic and Pulled the mage across the room. It was a reaction; she didn't have time to choose the path. The mage landed amongst some debris. Kira’s breathing quickened.
She readied herself, making sure her hands and eyesight were clear. The magic energy coursed through her. Her tattoos began to glow. The beating of her heart became loud and fast. She scanned the room and lost sight of the mage. Goddess, these things are annoying. She felt the surge of magic before she felt the pain. The Battlemage flickered back into sight to grab her arm with a white hot hand. She ignored the pain and grabbed its forearm. She Pulled and the mage launched into the air. Kira held it there suspended. She reached deep within herself and Pulled at the body in separate directions, like two opposing forces playing a game of tug-of-war. She could hear bones snap and flesh tear, until finally the body was torn in two. Blood sprayed into a red cloud of mist as the remains fell to the floor.
She knelt to steady her breathing and extend her awareness for any more mages that might be lurking. When she felt satisfied she searched the rest of the room. It was then that she spotted her. Lying on the floor, half-covered by the table, was her mother, the Crone. She had no real love for her mother, but it was still her mother. She held back her grief. The battle had happened almost two months ago, she guessed, but the body looked as if it had just died. Blood spilled from her mother’s mouth. Kira didn't find any outward injuries to give her any insight on what may have happened. Magic? During her inspection she found a wooden puzzle box under the folds of the Crone's robes. Kira recognized it as her own right away. It was a gift given to her by her mother.
When she opened the box, a small blood red crystal fell into her hand. As soon as the crystal touched her skin a translucent image of her mother stood in front of her, startling her.
“My daughter, I pray to our Dragon-Mother you find this.” Kira's eyes started to well up, but she fought it back. She had no idea how long it had been since she had heard her mother's voice, but it wasn't until now that she found how much she missed it. Not her mother so much, but home.
“We have been betrayed,” her mother continued. “Your sister Brianna conspired against us for promises of power. She framed you for killing our Sister-Mother Helga; I know that now. I only hope you can forgive me for not believing you.” Rage filled Kira.
Sister-Mother Helga...dead, why can't I remember?
“I was convinced of your guilt when you escaped. Your sister had set bounty hunters after you and gave them the means to subdue you. I only learned this recently when Brianna confessed over my dying body. I am so sorry, my daughter.”
A single tear trickled down Kira's face. She squeezed the crystal so hard it cut her palm. and blood started to drip to the floor. Anger, grief, and the pain from the cut on her hand swirled around in her head. She wanted to lash out. She needed to destroy something. If she couldn't break her sister's face she needed to break something else.
“A land called Chicago is where she went. She allied with someone called ‘Mother’ there. You must stop her. You must kill your sister.”
With pleasure, Mother.
Her magic lashed out. Anything that wasn't nailed down flew in a whirlwind. Soon her power picked up momentum and started to rip things off walls and out of the ground. She could hear the destruction even outside. Kira sat in the eye of her own telekinetic storm.
“Seek the Dragon-Mother; seek Lilith. Your sister couldn't get to her. You're our future now, daughter. Know that I've always..., but I was always the Cron
e first.” The image shimmered and flickered. “One last thing,” the voice and image started to fade. “There is one...who can help you, you...will need...him...Lilith knows. His...name...is...” The Crone died.
“No, no, no, no, no, no!” Each 'no' increased in volume until she was screaming.
The roof of her home tore free and hit a nearby tree. The walls of the building exploded out, leaving Kira and her mom's body exposed to the chaos outside. A large tree of 300 feet ripped free from the ground and hit a cluster of trees with such force that they exploded into splinters. Kira held her mother's limp form as she rocked, her tears now a steady flow. She rocked and cried until she calmed enough for the storm she had created to stop.
Kira gently laid her mother down. She got up and wiped her tears and snot on the sleeve of her shirt. She rubbed her swollen eyes. I must find Khayin.
The village around her was flattened and a panic started to rise within her. I hope Khayin got clear of this. She searched, but there was so much debris. She heard a faint ringing, or beeping. It sounded similar to the tones the buttons made on Khayin's communicator that he used to talk to Codex.
She followed the sound. The closer she got to the slave pen, the louder the noise became. Kira stopped when the sound was loud enough to pinpoint its location. She Pulled and removed the wood from the nearby homes and trees away from the melodic tone. Her heart wrenched.
No! What have I done? Goddess no!
Khayin was impaled by the fence and his blood covered the front of him. New tears flowed. Kira Pulled him off the spike and laid him on the ground. His pocket was ringing.
“No! Not you too! Fuck! What have I done? What have I done? I'm sorry, I'm so, so, sorry. Shit! Goddess no!” She wailed.
His pocket rang.
It's got to be Codex. What do I say? Shit! Fuck!
Kira reached into Khayin's ringing pocket and freed the communicator. She flipped it open and hit the talk button. She concentrated on breathing and calmed herself.
