soulofawitch_463-9e1.htm

by Soul Of A Witch (lit)

  "I thought he would die," Drake said bluntly. "Scared the shit out of me."

  "I know." Sinya closed his eyes briefly, feeling a stab of pain knife through his heart. "I feel one day it will kill him. He suffers too much and the hell of it is, no matter how much money I’ve paid and offered, no one seems able to heal him."

  His friends watched him leave the room, unable to offer any hope. Gloomily they looked at each other. No one knew what to do anymore and it hurt them just as much. Young Wes was as dear to them as if they shared his blood. He’d helped them so many times but they couldn’t return the favor.

  "Shit," Ralfis swore finally.

  "Ditto," Franc said gloomily.

  ~ * ~

  Robed figures sat in the gloom of a cave, the only source of light the fire burning in a hollow in the midst of their circle. Long, golden hair, both braided and loose, hung over broad, golden shoulders and burgundy eyes shimmered in the flickering firelight. Beside the fire was a bowl of water, the surface smooth like glass. A faint movement started in the middle, sending out little ripples.

  "There is a disturbance." A deep voice shimmered in the air.

  "The life currents are being disturbed," another voice ebbed from the mouth of the cave.

  "The force we’ve all felt." One man’s face tipped up, fire light playing on the clefts of his face. His lips remained closed. "It becomes stronger."

  "More destructive," a voice sighed above them.

  "Self-destructive," the first voice echoed from the ground. "The power grows. The gifts are almost too much."

  "Too much," the words sighed over and over. "Too much for one mortal."

  One man raised his hands to the flames and greedily they licked over his hand, yet the flesh remained undamaged. A blue light started to glow in the heart of the fire and from it words stated, "Soon it will be revealed to us. Very soon now."

  The water in the bowl stared to ripple agitatedly, little droplets spattering up into the air before plopping back into the bowl. A rumble of thunder sounded outside the cave. The men looked at each other then resumed their vigil by the fire, the water in the bowl shivering ominously before them on the ground.

  ~ * ~

  Pulling at the weeds in the garden, Beulah looked up at the sky, seeing the thunder clouds gathering. "Curses."

  "Need a hand?"

  "You have no substance and therefore cannot hold a single thing. How can you give me a hand, Petras?"

  "Ooh, nasty. That time of the year?"

  "Shooting stars of Cyran." Beulah sat back on her heels, wiping her sleeve across her forehead and pushing back wisps of white hair. "Must you be so crude?"

  "Must you be so mean? Reminding me of my inability to hold anything!"

  "My apologies. I have to get this finished before the rain starts, for once it does, it could rain for a week or more and there’ll be double the weeds for me to pull out."

  The wisps of hair on her forehead were suddenly blown gently back and tucked into the braid at the nape of her neck. "I am sorry, too."

  "So we’re both sorry." She smiled suddenly. "We make a sorry pair, hmm?"

  "Oh, please, not the weak jokes!"

  "I’m a sorry witch, what do you expect?"

  "That you make the weeds disappear."

  "That can’t be done, Petras, I’ve told you before. To toil in the dirt is to be close to nature. To be close to nature--"

  "--is to be close to the magic of the universe," Petras sighed. "I know, I know! But just once, Beulah? Would it be so bad?"

  "The Accelis would know in a second and where would that lead us? Admonishment, my dear companion, is something I have no wish to face."

  "Botheration."

  A breeze passed her cheek and the touch of something light but unseen announced that Petras had moved to her other side. Not that she had any need to know where her impertinent familiar was. She felt the presence as easily as if she saw it.

  The thunder boomed close, the suddenness of it catching her unawares. Unnerved momentarily, she gazed up at the sky to see the thunder clouds gathering angrily. It was strange, for she hadn’t felt the storm coming. Not a natural storm. Uneasiness crept upon her.

  "Beulah?" Soft nothingness curled around her neck. "Do you feel it?"

  "Yes, I do." Sitting still, she tipped her head back. "There is a disturbance."

  "It is not natural."

  "No, it’s not."

  "Supernatural, then." Petras curled closer, pressing into the warmth of its companion, seeking to combine its thoughts with the witch.

  "Not of either." Beulah frowned, eyes narrowing. "The will is becoming weak, control is being lost."

  "I sense no evil but it is possible, yes?"

  "Maybe."

  "What do we do?" Petras shivered.

  Beulah stared in the direction of the distant mountains. Around her was nothing but nature. Soil for growing, mountains for shelter, trees for life in the distant forest, a flowing river for drinking. Civilization was miles away and no one came that she did not know about in advance. This was her haven--hers and Petra’s. They were protected by the mystics, the healers. The Accelis. None came to her that weren’t meant to do so.

  "Beulah?"

  "We wait." With a decisive nod, she returned to the weeding, one slim hand wrapping around a stubborn stem.

  "Wait?"

  "For what will come."

  "Something is coming?"

  "Don’t be alarmed. What will come, will come. It may not yet."

  "You speak in riddles!" Petras wailed.

  "And you fret too much. If you really want to help me, my pet, then blow a breeze to cool my face. I am so hot."

  A moments hesitation then a faint breeze played about her face. Smiling, she returned to the weeding.

  "What do you think it is?" Petras asked.

  "I’ve no idea."

  "Aren’t you even a bit curious?"

  "Curiosity is never satisfied until the answer is revealed."

  "You’ve been alone too long, Beulah, do you know that?"

  "So you’ve told me many times. And I haven’t been alone all the time. You’re always with me. And there was Reya, remember?"

  "The Reeka Warrior Woman didn’t stay long enough, and that was a year ago." The breeze danced around, a sure indication that Petras was moving in thoughtful circles as it did when thinking. "I liked her. Abrasive, cold, but yes, I liked her."

  "Pleased I am to hear it."

  "Such a handsome man who came to claim her," Petras continued dreamily. "So big and strong--"

  "He was a Daamen trader. They are big and strong."

  "She was very beautiful."

  "All the Reekas are."

  The breeze idly ruffled the growing pile of weeds. "It has been awhile since we had a visitor."

  Thunder rumbled threateningly.

  "Maybe we will get one soon."

  "Do you think so?" Petras asked eagerly.

  "Or not," Beulah couldn’t resist saying.

  The breeze stopped abruptly and she grinned. Silently she continued weeding, adding to the growing pile beside her. Sure enough, the familiar couldn’t stay quiet for long.

  A soft tendril, light and invisible, curled around her throat, and a cool presence pressed against her back. "Come, tell me if you really know what it is."

  "I know nothing, my little companion. Time will reveal all, I’m sure."

  "Will it?"

  She couldn’t resist it. "Or not."

  "Oh!" The presence disappeared and a sudden gust of wind scattered the weeds over the newly-done patch. "You’re impossible!"

  Chuckling, Beulah continued weeding, leaving Petras to sulk. Several minutes passed then slowly the weeds were picked up in a small swirl of wind and deposited back beside her.

  "Anyway," Petras declared, "Whatever it is, I’m sure it’ll be more interesting than weeding!"

  A loud crackle sounded and a bolt of lightning slashed through the sky. Beulah straightened
, sitting back on her heels and gazing up at the sky. The clouds were black, hanging low, and tiny flashes of lightning could be seen tearing through it. "For once, my pet, you may be right," she said slowly.

  Petras pressed close against its witch, drawing comfort from the living body. For once, it wished it were wrong. It had a bad feeling about this.

  ~ * ~

  The screaming woke Sinya instantly. It echoed down the corridor in an agonized wail, desperate, hopeless, and frightened.

  Stumbling from his bed, he rushed out into the corridor to collide with Ephim and Ralfis. He didn’t have to look at their faces to know what was wrong. It was Wes screaming out. It wasn’t that unusual, for it had happened several times this last month, but what chilled him was the fact that the screaming had never been this frightening before.

  "Hells bells," Franc muttered. "What ails the lad now?"

  "Stand back," Sinya ordered as his crew piled out of their cabins in various states of disarray. Opening the door to his brother’s cabin, he stepped in. One glance around was enough to freeze his blood. "Oh God, Wes!"

  "What is it?" Ephim demanded. "Let me see! What’s happened to the poor lad now? What--stuff me!"

  Elbowing his way between the pirates, Ralfis peered over the shoulder of his captain and his mouth dropped open in shock. "Sweet mercy mother!"

  Horrified, Sinya stared at his brother. The youth was floating above the bunk and blood poured out of every orifice of his body, saturating his clothing. Welts stood out in sharp relief and his face was a mass of cuts and bruises, swelling grotesquely. The putrid smell of death and decay was strong, and a chill breeze was blowing up from the center of the cabin.

  "Help me, Sinya!" Wes screamed. "Help me!"

  "Wes!" Sinya ran into the cabin without hesitation, love for his young brother pushing aside the fear of the unknown. Stopping beside the bunk, he reached out for him. "Take my hand!"

  The thin hand reached out to clasp his, only to jerk convulsively in the strong grasp. "Let go! Let go! The pain! It’s killing me! Aaahh!"

  Releasing his hand, Sinya gazed helplessly at his brother. "What can I do, Wes? Tell me!"

  "I don’t know! I--no! It hurts so much! So much!" Tears poured down the thin cheeks and he convulsed in the air, knees drawing up against the pain clawing at him.

  "We can’t leave the boy there!" Franc wrung his hands worriedly.

  "Can we not pull him down?" Ralfis asked, staring up at the twisting youth.

  "How can we?" Sinya snapped in frustration. "I can’t even hold his hand for the pain it causes him!"

  "He’ll bleed to death," Ephim said.

  "If it is his blood," Sinya said bitterly, swallowing the lump in his throat. "What in God’s name can I do? I don’t dare touch him, yet he cries out for me!"

  "Wait, something’s happening." Franc stepped back. "He’s stopped screaming."

  Two

  Slowly, Wes’s body straightened and he turned in a complete circle. The chill wind blew harder, spinning him around faster and faster, and the blood flew from him, spattering the cabin walls, disappearing as soon as it did.

  The pirates backed against the wall, watching in horrified fascination.

  The spinning stopped and slowly Wes’s body lowered to the bunk. The breeze died down and a stillness filled the cabin. Slowly Sinya approached the bunk, sitting on the edge of it and gingerly taking his brother’s hand. There was no blood anywhere in sight now, no sign of the swelling, and no stench of death and decay. Shaken, he stroked his thumb across the back of the limp hand.

  Wes’s eyes opened slowly. "I feel so hot," he whispered.

  Sinya attempted a smile. "So would I be if I’d pulled the trick you just did."

  Ephim came to stand beside the bunk. "You scared the pants off us, boy."

  Tears filled the black eyes. "I’m so scared, Sinya. What is happening to me?"

  The aching lump returned to his throat. "I don’t know lad, but I swear, I will find a cure."

  "Nothing will cure me. I can feel my insides burning up. These feelings will burn me up soon. I can feel the pain of so many people, the tortures they go through. I can’t take it anymore, Sinya, I just can’t."

  Gathering the youth into his arms, the pirate cradled him fiercely to his chest. "I love you, Wes. I won’t let anything harm you."

  "You can’t stop it. Nobody can." Suddenly he stiffened. "No, no, please. It’s starting again--"

  "What? What is starting again?" Grimly Sinya hugged him, afraid to let go.

  "I can feel it! It’s building up inside me, all over! The burning, the pain--all those in agony!" With a startling strength, Wes broke Sinya’s hold. "Get away from me!"

  "Wes--"

  "Nooo!" Opening his mouth, Wes howled and it resounded eerily off the walls, gathering in strength and force.

  The pirates could feel the invisible force pushing at them, forcing them back against the walls. Outside the cabin, the other pirates looked fearfully at one another. What was happening now?

  A dim booming filled the room, growing louder until it was almost deafening. Flinging up his hands, and throwing his head back, Wes screamed loudly.

  A white blaze streaked through the cabin and an explosion rocked the pirates off their feet, sending them all crashing to the floor in a cursing tangle of arms and legs.

  The silence descended suddenly, and dazedly the pirates slowly got to their feet, shaking their heads against the ringing in their ears.

  "Wes?" Sinya staggered across to the bunk and looked down at his brother. Seeing the dark eyes staring sightlessly up at the ceiling, fear gripped his heart. "Wes!" Gripping the thin wrist, he felt for the pulse.

  ~ * ~

  The bowl shattered and water exploded outwards, sizzling into the fire. The blue glow flared bright, illuminating the faces of the Accelis. Lightning rent the sky, tearing through the clouds, and thunder boomed angrily.

  "Self-destruction is at hand," a voice sighed from the cavern walls.

  "The mortal is beyond help soon," another voice whispered from the fire.

  "He needs our assistance," the deep voice echoed from the rocks.

  One of the Accelis raised his hand and his words vibrated in the still air. "He is too dangerous to bring here yet."

  "Then it is time. Call the witch."

  ~ * ~

  The explosion threw her across the room to crash into the wall. Shaking her head, Beulah sat slumped against the wall.

  "Beulah!" Petras floated agitatedly around her. "Beulah, what was it? Are you hurt?"

  "Rest easy." She winced. "I think not."

  "What happened?"

  "I’m not sure." Carefully she stood up, pushing a white lock of hair out of her eyes.

  Thunder boomed across the sky, making her jump and Petras squeak in dismay. Lightning split the night through the curtains on the window and cracked as it hit the ground in the distance. The crystal bowl of fragrant water rattled alarmingly across the surface of the wooden table.

  Beulah’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "There’s a disturbance."

  "What? Where?"

  The crystal bowl shattered suddenly, fragrant water exploding out to drench the table and nearby chairs.

  "In the life’s currents." Beulah glanced at the corner of the room to see a golden glow start. "And whatever’s happening, it involves us."

  Silently she watched the golden glow grow larger, the light filling the room with a warmth. Suddenly she felt the presence of many things pressing against her legs and swishing past her, touching her hair and caressing her face.

  Petras burst into excited chatter, talking to its kin, but Beulah ignored the familiar. She kept her gaze fixed on the glow and the cloaked figure that gradually took shape. The glow brightened, making her shield her eyes and when it faded, she removed her hand to see the huge, golden man holding a long, golden scepter standing in the corner. Golden hair flowed down over broad shoulders, golden skin gleamed softly and from the majestically b
eautiful face, burgundy eyes gazed upon her benevolently.

  "Beulah." His voice drifted in the room though he didn’t once open his mouth.

  She sank to one knee, bowing her head. "Sire."

  "Arise, little witch."

  Obeying, she met his gaze soberly. "You have work for me."

  "Yes. He comes soon."

  "The one who’s life force is strong enough to disturb the currents."

  "Always you are wise, Beulah."

  A small smile curved her lips and she pointed to the shattered crystal bowl. "I have my ways."

  No answering smile met this but the burgundy eyes softened briefly. "It is your responsibility to assist the boy. It will not be easy."

  Somehow that didn’t surprise her.

  "The path to control will be fraught with danger."

  "So why don’t you take him, Sire?"

  "He is too uncontrollable to bring into our midst."

  "He is too strong for me, then."

  The golden head tilted slightly while the golden Acceli healer appraised her. "You have that which we don’t, little witch." The words drifted to her from the side.

  "And what is that?"

  "You have a woman’s magic."

  "I don’t understand, Sire. I am not more powerful than you--"

  "You will understand when the time is right."

  Wonderful. And Petras thinks I’m irritating with my vague answers! "Sire, if I need you, I may call you?"

  The Acceli glided across the floor, white robes drifting around him. Stopping before her, he reached out and touched her chin. "We are always there for you, Beulah. We will assist where we can, but this is your duty."

  "Yes, Sire."

  "Do you understand?"

  "Yes. Well, I think so."

  The large hand slid around to cup the back of her head and he gazed down into her eyes. "This boy is stronger than those who have passed before. He needs you before he can come to us. It is you who must teach him control."

  "Control?"

  "You will know when you see him. We have faith in you, little witch. We know you won’t fail us."

  "The responsibility is heavy, Sire. What if--"

  "There are no questions about this. You will succeed." Bending down, he laid cool lips against her forehead. "We will sense your progress and be there for when you need us."