The Witches of Ne'arth (The Star Wizards Trilogy Book 2)

by Joseph Schembrie

  She marveled at another card, which bore a miniature portrayal of the man sitting with a woman and two children. Addressing the demon, she said, “This painting is very life-like, but why is there no color?”

  “It is not a painting,” the demon replied. “It is a photograph.”

  Often the demon's answers only created more questions, but Lachela was determined not to let him drag her into abstract conversation. She agreed with the old priest that down that road lay Possession.

  Lachela unlocked the door and peered through the crack. The office was vacant, and if the Archbishop kept to the usual pattern, he would be gone for the night.

  Kenwol snored. “Quiet you!” Lachela snarled. She bent over his ear and whispered, “You will remember . . . we did it all.”

  His wide smile made her shudder. And this beast had a happy family, while she was alone in the world!

  She couldn't leave the client until the appointment was over without arousing curiosity, so she ventured no farther than the office. She sat in the chair behind the Archbishop's desk and spun around. She randomly rearranged the pens and lanterns and the blotter.

  As she gazed reflectively about the office, she pondered what might gain her power over the Abbey. Certainly the books on the shelves were useless. They were all about Church This and Church That – history and theology, mainly. Not that she wasn't interested in those subjects, but after the demon's many readings aloud to her, she knew the books were for show rather than truth.

  One passage had even caused her to rip the page in fury: Klun has a reputation throughout the Attainable World for its concern toward all persons, especially in the moral guidance of the orphans under its tender care.

  The file cabinets were locked but opened to a demon-assisted touch. They were all empty but for bottles of alcohol (which too were all empty). Not surprising there should be no paperwork, as Archbishop Kantel, though officially having the title of Abbot, had little to do with the internal operations of the Abbey. It was Secretary Horbin who handled the administrative details, and it would be in his office that the real instruments of power would be located. Unfortunately, Horbin seemed immune to her flirtations.

  Having run out of ideas for the conquest of the Abbey, Lachela opened the box on the desk and took a cigar. She touched the tip and wished it alight. She puffed and wished it wouldn't choke her. And that the smoke wouldn't water her eyes. And that it would taste good. And then, realizing the inanity of it all, she sighed and squashed it on the ashtray.

  “I am bored,” she said aloud. “I am so so soooo bored!”

  The demon didn't reply. She spun the chair around again. She paused to gaze at the sunset, enchanted by how the cloud bottoms were painted golden. She imagined meanings to the shapes – that one looked like a lantern, that one like a dog, that tiny black one like a pair of sausages bound side by side.

  Noticing that the latter cloud was moving rapidly, Lachela frowned and squinted.

  I wish I could see as if closer.

  As she had learned to take for granted in her association with the demon, a window magically appeared and hovered before her. Within the borders of the window, the image of the black twin-sausage cloud grew larger. In the magnified view, the apparition was twin cylinders with straight lines and fins and a box underneath. Plainly, it was an airship. The glowing squares at regular intervals along the side of the gondola would be windows, and the moving figures within would be people. Given the scale, the gondola alone rivaled the size of the Cathedral!

  “The size,” Lachela murmured. “I've never seen one so large!”

  Airships often flew in sight of the Abbey, as the town on the other side of the forest had an airfield. Yet they always kept their distance. This one was coming so close that Lachela had the demon collapse the view window, as she could see the vessel plainly with normal vision.

  The droning of the ship's boat-sized engines shook the window pane. Lachela counted four engines to the side facing her, therefore eight in all. The most engines she'd ever seen before on a ship were six.

  “Demon, what are those pointy things sticking out of the bumps on the sides?”

  “Image archive matches indicate that they are artillery gun barrels,” the demon replied.

  “Guns.” At least she knew what those were. The guns on the ship were certainly very big guns. It took little imagination to see that they could be used against other ships. It must be a naval ship, then.

  “Demon,” she asked. “What do the words on the side say?”

  “'PRAN Nemesis,'” the Demon replied.

  “What does that mean?”

  “Given the placement of the lettering, it is likely to be the name of the ship.”

  “Yes, but what does it mean?”

  “PRAN is likely an acronym signifying national origin. The word 'Nemesis' is name of the goddess of vengeance.”

  “There are no such things as goddesses,” Lachela replied with the certitude of years of Doctrinal Lessons. She paused, and asked, “Are there?”

  “I lack sufficient information to answer that question at this time.”

  “You say that Nemesis is the goddess of 'vengeance.' What is that?”

  “'Vengeance' is defined as punishment inflicted in retaliation for injustice.”

  During her brief association with the demon, Lachela's rapid rise to power at the Abbey had been accompanied by a sense of guilt. Guilt brought fear of punishment, and here was a ship whose very name invoked punishment. Lachela felt pain in her fingers, and found that they had become white from clenching the armrests.

  The ship descended to tree-top level, its propellers slowed and engines quieted. It glided over the lake at the bottom of the valley. Bucket-shaped sheets dropped from the gondola and scooped water, bringing the ship to a halt. Ropes lowered a boat filled with men to the surface of the lake. The men rowed to the dock. While the men disembarked, a second boat lowered from the belly of the Nemesis.

  The men wore gray uniforms, which Lachela recognized as the same as worn by the Captain who had been Lachela's first 'client.' They all carried metal sticks, which Lachela recognized as different versions of the guns that had appeared in the demon's 'dream' that first night.

  Three boats in all lowered from the ship and rowed to the dock, bringing eighteen men in all. The last boat brought none other than the Captain himself. Archbishop Kantel greeted him and bowed obsequiously, and for the first time Lachela sensed that the Archbishop was subservient.

  The Captain shouted sternly. The Archbishop cringed and pointed toward the office window.

  “They've come for me,” Lachela said hollowly.

  “It is more likely they have come for me,” the demon said.

  During the weeks of their association, Lachela had pieced together some of the truth about the demon. He had a physical presence – albeit a small one – that traveled from person to person. She was not the only one who knew of his existence. Someone had been chasing the demon all these years, which was why he had changed host so many times.

  And so, the men were marching up the hill to the Residence with their guns, straight for his current host.

  She wondered what they would do to her. Possibly kill her, but even if they didn't, what kind of life would she have without the demon? Returned to a wretched existence like all the other orphans at Klun: labor from dawn to dusk, abuse in all its forms, all privileges gone, no hope and no future.

  I would rather die, she thought.

  “Well, they're not getting you. I won't go back to the way things were!”

  Lachela bolted out of the chair, surveying the scenery for an escape. The Archbishop's Residence was surrounded by a high fence, and the approaching troops were blocking the sole exit from the yard. As the Captain raised his eyes to the window, Lachela shrank from view. In her hesitation, she knew, she had lost the chance to flee without confrontation.

  “Demon! Is there a secret way out of this place?”

  “I assume from
the context of the current situation that you mean a hidden tunnel that links this building to another.”

  “Yes, is there anything like that?”

  “There is not anything like that.”

  I would hit you if I could – and if she wasn't so terrified.

  The men filed through the gate, entered the lower level of the split-level Residence. She heard shouts and tromping boots. Lachela sank to the floor, wrapped her arms around her knees and wept.

  “However,” the demon said, “it might be possible to escape via the utilization of hypermode.”

  Choked by tears, she asked, “What is that?”

  “Hypermode is a means of electrochemical stimulation of the brain and nervous system to increase the subjective time-sense and biological reaction speed of the host organism.”

  “That tells me nothing!” she spat. Still, if the demon thought it was a chance, perhaps it was. She wiped her eyes dry. “Whatever it is, do it.”

  “Would you like me to initiate hypermode warm-up at this time?”

  Judging from the noise of the boots, the men were in the outer room. Lachela heard the click of metal on metal. She recognized that sound from the demon's dream. They were readying their guns.

  “YES! Whatever it takes!”

  The office doors burst open. The men streamed in and aimed their weapons at the girl weeping on the floor.

  “FREEZE!” one of them shouted at Lachela. He turned to the hallway. “All clear!”

  The Captain and Archbishop entered. The Captain stared at Lachela and scowled.

  “That is not the same girl,” the Captain said.

  “I assure you that it is Lachela,” the Archbishop said meekly. “The same that you were with.”

  “She doesn't look anything the same!”

  “Her appearance has changed, I admit. In fact, the transformation occurred shortly after your visit.”

  Uncertainty crept into the captain's voice: “How is that possible?”

  “I swear, I have no explanation.”

  “You did not question it?”

  “She is quite popular with our clientele, and as she has become a source of considerable revenue for the Abbey, I assumed we were being blessed by the Lords of Aereoth.”

  Lachela doubted the Archbishop believed anything of the sort. The Captain's scowl indicated he agreed.

  The Captain shook his head. “Well, I was warned she was full of tricks.”

  A groan came from the parlor. Sir Kenwol staggered into the office. He took in the scene and said, “What the blazes is – ”

  “FREEZE!” shouted the soldier who had shouted 'FREEZE' before. While the others kept their guns trained on Lachela, he aimed at Sir Kenwol's chest.

  Kenwol bellowed: “I am a Minister in the Cabinet – “

  “You'll be in the grave if you don't shut!” the Captain snapped. He motioned and a pair of soldiers violently shoved Kenwol back into the parlor and slammed the door.

  The Captain addressed his men: “This will go as briefed. Escort her to the ship's brig. Keep two meter separation at all times. If she attempts to flee, shoot to kill. If she attempts to touch you, again the order is shoot to kill. Clear?”

  “Aye!” they said in unison.

  The Archbishop's gaze fell to the ashtray on his desk. His face contorted in rage. “You little vixen!” He snatched the cigar butt, stooped over Lachela and wagged it before her nose. “Do you have any idea of the expense of these?” As she tried to turn, he grabbed her chin. “Do you?”

  “FREEZE!”

  The Archbishop shifted his gaze and stared blankly into the barrel of a rifle. “What – what is this?”

  “You touched her, you idiot!” the Captain said. He barked to his men: “If he moves, shoot him as well!”

  “I – I – I don't understand. I simply – “

  While in the office the Archbishop stammered his innocence and the Captain explained his orders, inside Lachela's head the demon spoke : “Hypermode is in standby.”

  Lachela whispered, “What does that mean?”

  “That it is ready to be initiated.”

  Always the game of One Thing Means Another! “Does that mean you can do it now?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then do it now!”

  “First, an obligatory warning. As you have never experienced hypermode before, there is risk of physical injury from sudden or abrupt movements. It is therefore recommended that I constrain your movements within safe limits while in hypermode. May I have permission to do so?”

  “Whatever it takes! Quickly!”

  “Commencing hypermode.”

  And with that, the whole world shuddered and blurred. The floor wrenched and she felt as if she were falling. The lighting grew dim. The men spoke in baritone, laboriously enunciating every syllable.

  Lachela drew a breath; it was like she was breathing through thick fabric. She flailed in panic – and found that it was like she was trapped inside a vat of syrup.

  “Demon!” she cried. The words piled in her larynx: “What . . . is . . . going . . . on?”

  “Hypermode has commenced. You have sixty seconds, starting . . . now.”

  A horizontal green bar hovered in the air above her head, too bright to be real. Lachela knew it was one of those imaginary things the demon made that appeared in her sight alone, like the window that had shown a magnified view of the airship. As she wondered what it was for, she noticed that it was starting to shorten. She sensed that was significant.

  The room brightened, albeit in an off-color way that suggested it was not real light at all but something the demon was doing to her vision. The captain was still speaking to the Archbishop, apparently yet the same sentence. The soldiers seemed unnaturally still.

  Lachela strived to push whispered words through her mouth. “I . . . don't . . . under . . . .”

  “May I suggest that if you wish to speak more rapidly,” the demon said, “you may subvocalize your statements.”

  Lachela guessed that subvocalization meant how she communicated with the demon when she expressed a wish. I don't understand how this 'hyper-thing' helps me.

  “Please think your words louder.”

  Think louder? Lachela tried thinking of moving lungs, mouth, and lips without actually doing so: “Can you hear me now?”

  “Yes.”

  “I am still trapped. How does this 'hyper-thing' help me?”

  “You may attempt to walk out the door.”

  A quarter of the green bar had vanished. Although she still wasn't quite sure why or how, Lachela sensed the bar's diminishing had to do with time available for the escape, and concluded it wasn't much. She decided to obey the demon, for despite the absurdity, she had no choice.

  She attempted to stand. An invisible force pushed against her all the way. She stepped toward the door. To her senses she was moving quite slow, almost lethargically. The soldiers, however, did not seem aware of her movement at first. Finally, with another step, the one of eye of one soldier started to shift. His expression changed to shock, his eyelids creeping apart at the speed of a snail.

  The Freeze! soldier opened his mouth and bleated something slow in a deep voice. He turned his gun from where Lachela had been to where she was moving. He pulled the trigger. The gun tip blossomed fire.

  Lachela heard a thunderous boom. A small black thing like a beetle flew from the tip of the weapon and streaked centimeters behind her spine, embedding in the wall with a plume of plaster dust.

  “Demon! What was that?”

  “That was a bullet. A bullet can cause serious harm if it impacts your body. You appear to be targeted by guns and therefore in danger of being impacted by bullets.”

  “What do I do?”

  “I suggest you walk faster.”

  Lachela was already doing that as he spoke. She forged toward the door, grunting against the invisible force that made air seemed as resistant as water to her movement. Around her, the soldiers slowly turned their weapo
ns, tracking her. She quickened her pace. The barrels spewed fire and the room filled with their thunder and bullets buzzed past like a disrupted-hive-worth of angry bees.

  Lachela watched with fascination as one bullet struck the window, which splintered into shards that twirled like crystalline ballerinas. The shards should have fallen instantly to the floor, but instead took seconds to drift down to it. Realization dawned: The world has slowed for me!

  The floating green bar dwindled to half-length, flashed thrice and turned yellow.

  With determination, she exited the office. The soldiers in the hallway had time only to widen their eyes and open their mouths and then she was at the entry. Once outside, she sidestepped a knot of soldiers who had no time to react at all. She headed for the gate.

  The bar flashed thrice and turned red, down to quarter-length.

  Free under open sky, she wondered where to. For now, she decided, as far from the Residence as possible. As she moved, she remembered the falling shards and an idea came to her. She leaned forward and pushed with her legs. As she had thought, both feet left the ground and she sailed through the air, farther than she'd ever seen a person leap.

  Another bound, and she was on the main path, around the corner, halfway to the orphanage . . . whereupon she realized that would be the first place the soldiers would look.

  “Demon, where should I – “

  The bar had become a dot. It flashed thrice and vanished.

  The world shuddered. The sky lightened but Lachela staggered under the returned sense of weight. She gasped and cursed. And then she heard the shouts of the soldiers nearing.

  “Demon! Return me into 'hyper-thing!'”

  “Hypermode recharge will require twelve hours.” Pause. “I suggest you go there as indicated.”

  A disembodied arrow flashed ahead, pointing to the left as the path she was on intersected another. Lachela scurried as best as her fancy dress and recovery from hypermode would allow. The arrow danced before and above her, pointing toward a dilapidated, windowless building. Assuming the demon meant it as a place to hide, Lachela raced toward the thick and immobile door.