Witch Bane

by Tim Marquitz

  The man who carried her bag had done as she asked, but Victor had not come for her. Though it pained her to think it, she doubted he would. For all his courage, the sigils would make him her mother’s slave were he to show himself. Was she worth that risk? Was their child? She couldn’t be sure, though she hoped he was hidden nearby, silent in the trees, waiting for the chance to intervene. She wanted so desperately to see him, to hold him in her arms. Her gaze drifted to her mother’s and she could see the violence lurking just beneath the surface of her eyes. Emerald’s time was drawing to a close.

  Her hands went to her belly, caressing the distended flesh, her thoughts on the child within. Elizabeth’s grip tightened and Emerald could feel the tremors of the woman’s anxiety through her breasts pressed against her back. With only Emerald to protect the baby, she needed to act now.

  Just as her mother lost her patience, pointing and hurling insults at Elizabeth, Emerald reached out and grabbed the witch’s wrist and drove her elbow into the woman’s stomach. Elizabeth grunted in Emerald’s ear, her arm slipping loose of her shoulder. The witch’s magic fluttered at her hand as Emerald spun away, holding it away from her.

  Emerald stumbled as she tried to run, falling before the resistance witch. She heard her mother cry out and her nostrils filled with the thick smell of brimstone. Elizabeth growled, having caught her breath, and aimed her finger at Emerald. Vicious heat sucked the moisture from the air as a burst of fire roared toward her. She squeezed her eyes tight against the coming death, and whispered sorry farewells to her son and Victor.

  The heat ended as quickly as it began.

  She opened her eyes to blackness, feeling the sensation of pressure at her face, against her belly, all about her; it encompassed her as though she were wrapped within a cocoon. The fury of the flames sang in her ears, echoing inside her head until she could hear nothing else, but she felt no pain or discomfort from their bite. A moment later the sound died away and there was a sense of urgent movement, muffled shouts erupting all around her.

  Then unexpectedly, she could see again, the pressure against her released. The noises of the world rushed in and her stomach roiled at the chaos that washed over her, overwhelming in its force. Her legs buckled but strong hands kept her up. She looked to who held her, blinking away the brightness that hammered at her eyes.

  Thirty-Three

  His breath loud in his ears, Sebastian crouched in the arms of a great evergreen, carefully setting his wrapped bundle in its cradle of branches. He looked down upon what would soon be a battlefield. Without rest, he’d run along the path the resistance had taken and was not surprised to find they hadn’t traveled far before they’d run into the White Witch and her army. It was clearly the trouble the Lord had somehow sensed before he disengaged.

  The White Witch stood at the head of her forces, challenging Elizabeth, who held Emerald before her. Sebastian growled as he watched, sickened that the resistance witch would stoop so low as to harm a pregnant girl, regardless of her lineage. Again, he was reminded of why his father had chosen to hide them from the rest of humanity, for there was so little humanity left.

  The Red Guard inched forward only to make Elizabeth more frantic. He could see in her posture, in the way she drew up behind Emerald that she was close to the point of doing something drastic. The White witch didn’t look much more composed. She glared at Elizabeth, speaking to her, but Sebastian couldn’t hear, his perch too far away. Emerald squirmed in the witch’s hold, and clutched at her stomach, rubbing it with fierceness. He could only imagine what she was thinking, trapped between her mother and the woman she thought would help her bring her son safely into the world. Sebastian watched as the young girl kept glancing off to her right, clearly attempting to be surreptitious, succeeding only because all eyes were on the two witches. Judging by the reaction of the man who stood alongside, she was trying to get him to help, but he didn’t look willing. Sebastian sighed, wondering what he could do without getting both of them killed in the process.

  He had no more time to think about it. The White Witch must have reached her limit. She jabbed a finger at Elizabeth and screamed. Though he couldn’t make out the words, they sounded harsh, that thought reinforced by her forceful posturing. Sebastian held his breath, hoping an opportunity would show itself that would allow him to pull Emerald to safety.

  She took matters into her own hands. Almost quicker than Sebastian could follow, Emerald grabbed Elizabeth’s hand and shoved it away, all while elbowing the women in the stomach. The girl broke free as the witch staggered, but Emerald stumbled and fell only a few feet before the resistance witch. Sebastian could see the terror in her eyes as Elizabeth raised her hand and let loose a wave of fire. Emerald was engulfed before Sebastian could leave the tree, his limbs rigid as he clutched to the branches, bile burning in his stomach.

  The White Witch moved away from the roaring flames, the Red Guard around her doing the same. The resistance men fell back as Elizabeth continued her assault for a moment longer before finally withdrawing her power. Black smoke rose from the blackened crater where Emerald had sat. Sebastian expected to see nothing but ash, Elizabeth added to his list of enemies.

  To his surprise, a hulking shape stood with his back to Elizabeth. Wafts of smoke rose up from his seared back, the remnants of his brigandine armor hung in fiery tatters from his shoulders. The sigils upon his flesh shimmered with a brilliant white glow as he straightened, a cowering bundle wrapped protectively in his massive arms. He spun about as the witches and soldiers spied him, a cacophony of noise rising up when he ran for the woods. He was in the trees before they could do anything more than bluster, the leaves fluttering in his wake.

  Even charred with soot and ash, his armor nearly melted away, Sebastian recognized the Lord. In his arms was Emerald. Though Sebastian could not see her face, pressed as it was against the behemoth, he saw no evidence the fire had reached her. The Lord had protected the mother and his child.

  Sebastian settled on his branch as the world before him erupted with sound. He owed the Lord death, and promised to deliver it, but now was not the time. Victor had saved Emerald and would keep her and the baby safe from the chaos exploding below. That allowed Sebastian to focus on the task at hand. Once the White Witch was dead, he could worry about how to deal with the Lord without harming Emerald.

  The Red Guard surged forward, spilling into the ranks of the resistance. Steel clashed and men screamed. Sebastian felt his blood race in his veins as he watched the battle unfold. For all their dedication to their cause, the resistance crumpled almost immediately.

  Sebastian’s eyes caught the glimmer of magic as the White Witch engaged Elizabeth, the resistance witch staggering back as she defended against the onslaught. She appeared unprepared for the fury of the attack. Sebastian didn’t believe she would last long, though he was glad to see she hadn’t surrendered and gone to the fire without a fight. The longer their battle went on, the more worn down the victor would be. Sebastian would need every advantage he could acquire.

  His opportunity was at hand. Sebastian collected his bundle and clambered down the tree to the cover of the foliage below. If ever the time was to be right for what he must do, this was it.

  Thirty-Four

  Deborah shouted with unrestrained glee as she cast her magic at Elizabeth. Emerald had broken free of the witch’s grasp and Victor had pulled her from danger, freeing Deborah to act. She hadn’t truly wanted to hurt her child, but she had hoped Elizabeth would force her hand, and she could end the problem of both of them in one fell swoop. Mynistiria would rally behind her at the loss of a child.

  She knew she would have to deal with Emerald once the resistance had been crushed, and had thought it best the girl die at Elizabeth’s hands rather than put her through the torment of taking her child away. That opportunity had passed, however. Now all that was left was to slay Elizabeth and make an example of her. She’d looked forward to this for over nineteen years, and now that the chance
had fallen into her lap, she would take full advantage of it.

  She pressed forward, hurling fire at the other witch, alternating her attacks between fiery spheres and jets of flame. Elizabeth‘s defenses held, but just barely. Deborah could feel the woman’s shield crumbling with every blow, could see the strain etched upon the woman’s lined face. Her army pressed the resistance forces back, keeping the enemy from her flanks so she could concentrate on killing the woman.

  “You spent years in the woods, your powers atrophying without practical use. This is what’s become of your dreams, Elizabeth. Your pathetic resistance crumbles around you, your followers meeting the sword. Hold on strong for just a few moments more, witch, and perhaps you’ll get to witness their demise before yours comes to pass.”

  Elizabeth continued her efforts to reflect Deborah’s attack, her skin turning red in patches where bursts of magic slipped past. “Enjoy your moment, Deborah, but there are others who would see you laid low. General Darius and Alise’s son still come for you. My death will not stop them.”

  “You are a greater fool than I imagined, woman. As we speak, your saviors are beset upon by Gracelin, Shade, and a host of Red Guard. They will not survive to see the morning sun, for all their plotting.” She laughed. “All of your plans are undone.”

  Elizabeth fell back, and Deborah laughed even harder at the uncertainty reflected upon her face. The White Witch pressed forward with vicious intent, willing her magic to greater effect. She strode across the battlefield as the other witch slowly withdrew, hunched in terror behind her pitiful, failing defenses. Deborah knew the woman didn’t dare fight back for fear of lowering her shield even the slightest of bits. Were just one blow to strike true, Elizabeth would be done for. That time would be soon.

  Deborah drew closer, burning spheres leaping from her left hand as she strafed Elizabeth’s shield with gouts of leaping fire, from the right. Forced to concentrate fully on survival, Elizabeth had fallen to her knees and curled up into a ball to project the whole of her will into her power. It wouldn’t be enough. Deborah could feel the woman’s resolve cracking.

  Then she was through.

  With the rumble of thunder, Deborah’s magic tore through the last of Elizabeth’s defenses. The resistance witch screamed as tongues of flame lapped at her unprotected skin, the impact of a fiery bolt sending her tumbling back along the field. Smoke and the scent of burnt flesh wafted in her wake.

  Deborah let her power fade and walked casually toward her fallen foe. The woman squirmed on the ground, soft whimpers escaping her charred lips. She lay with her shriveled arms pulled to her chest, the scorched remains of her fingers twitching madly without control. The White Witch came to stand over her, staring down onto the once beautiful witch’s face, now covered in blackened flesh and pustulant blisters. They leaked yellowish ooze, which ran in thick rivulets down her cheeks. Her brown eyes swam with tears and misery, the glassy orbs showing clear signs of shock.

  The White Witch knelt down beside her, unable to contain the smile that tugged at her lips. No one close enough to hear, save for Elizabeth herself, Deborah leaned in near her ear.

  “For all the truth of your words, you will die a liar in the eyes of the realm. You could have been one of us, immortal, but you chose to side with poor Alise.” She shook her head. “By helping her bring that abomination into the world, you ruined your only opportunity for a true and fulfilled life. I hope you enjoyed your years in the wilderness, playing queen to the peasant masses, because that will be your sad legacy.”

  Elizabeth coughed black phlegm and crimson blood, the viscous fluid staining her lips. “Keep you…your eyes on your back, Deborah,” Elizabeth started with a weak voice, her words little more than a whisper, “for your betrayal will come full circle soon enough.”

  Deborah laughed as she set her hand on the woman’s chest. She could feel but the slightest sputter of her heart. “For nearly two decades I have ruled Corilea, and in that time, despite all your efforts, here I still stand, alive and well; unlike you.” She smiled broad. “Alise went to her death with courage, dying in silence as she was burned alive, the flesh boiling from her bones. Will you be so bold, Elizabeth? Will you die so bravely?”

  The woman trembled, though from fear or shock Deborah could not tell. She truly didn’t care. Elizabeth’s time had come, at last, and it was the White Witch who controlled the means of her destruction. It was a great moment and she wanted to savor it.

  The resistance had been crushed, and by morning the people of the realm would know it was by her hand. Her rule over Mynistiria would be without question. Even the Council would not dare to challenge her. Deborah’s victory would allow them to live on forever, and they would know that privilege was won by her hand, be her strength. She sighed happily as she thought about how she’d be received when she returned to the silver towers of Corilea, bringing the news of her triumph.

  A shadow flitted to her side and she glanced up to see Shade walking toward her from the tree line. Though the assassin’s arm hung limp at her side, her black garb stained with even blacker blood, it was proof of the woman’s success. She wondered where Gracelin might be, hoping to share the victory with her, but she couldn’t wait. She had the resistance witch beaten and ready to die. She’d be a fool to not take advantage of the moment. Deborah couldn’t help but laugh at the thought, turning to look at Elizabeth.

  “See, woman?” She pointed at the assassin. “The war has been won on all fronts. You go to your grave without hope of redemption. Alise and her brood are dead!” She hovered above the fallen witch. “Now, it is your turn to join them.”

  Elizabeth stared up at her, her suffering visible in her eyes. She trembled, crippled hands shaking at her breast. She said nothing as Shade came to stand alongside Deborah. The White Witch could see the defeat on Elizabeth’s face; smell its rancid stink over the harsh scent of charred meat. It made her happy to know she had brought the witch so low before she delivered the last.

  “The end has come,” Deborah told her as she held her palms out toward her. The flicker of magical energy fluttered at her hands. “I send you now to the pyre, Elizabeth Bourne. May the flames grant you the peace you could not find in this world.”

  The scent of brimstone filled the air as Deborah summoned her magic with slow deliberation, dragging the moment out as Elizabeth squirmed helpless on the ground before her. The White Witch drew in a deep breath, tasting the tangy char of power, and let it loose with casual ease. This was truly the end, at last.

  A flicker of silver flashed at the corner of Deborah’s vision as she willed her magic to life. A shadow fell across her and she felt a sharp pain at her eye and a sense of impact.

  Then she felt nothing.

  Thirty-five

  Sebastian couldn’t believe his luck. Dressed in Shade’s garb, which he’d taken from her dead body, he’d been able to walk up right beside the White Witch as she gloated over her vanquished foe. She barely spared him a glance as he came to stand alongside her, not even noticing the brown of his eyes that looked back, so obviously different from the brilliant blue of the assassin’s. She was so excited that she’d apparently taken his disguised arrival as an assurance of her victory against himself, the warlock abomination. She didn’t even question the missing Green or Red Guard squadrons that had gone with her.

  He grinned without restraint behind the mask as she turned back to Elizabeth, readying her magic for the final blow. As little as he cared about the fate of the resistance witch, the woman deserving the cruelty about to be unleashed upon her, Sebastian knew the safest time to strike was before the White Witch’s powers manifested.

  The quicksilver blade made no sound against Shade’s borrowed sheath as he drew it—the sword, the perfect deliverer of retribution for his mother. He spun it behind his back and brought it about, thrusting at the witch with the whole of his hate and fury.

  If she saw the blade coming, she didn’t react.

  The point sunk deep i
nto the White Witch’s eye, the orb giving way with a moist pop as the sword slid into her brain beyond, bursting from the back of her head. She went rigid instantly, her face going slack as blood and fluids ran from her ruined socket. Her arms dropped to her side, wisps of smoke trailing away from her fingertips.

  Sebastian yanked the sword free as Elizabeth watched from below, showered in a thick, crimson and gray rain. The slightest of smiles broke upon her blackened and scored lips, blisters boiling over in its wake as the White Witch crumpled to the ground without a sound. She’d died with a grim smile frozen on her lips, her last thoughts seemingly of victory.

  A howling cry exploded over the sounds of battle that raged around them, Sebastian’s gaze shifting to a number of soldiers who pointed at him. They screamed like furious banshees, drawing the attention of their fellow soldiers. They knew their master was dead, had watched her be struck down. Soon, the Red Guard would be upon him, some semblance of order still present among their ranks.

  Sebastian glanced to Elizabeth, pulling the mask away so she could look upon his face. “You’ve earned your suffering, witch. I offer you no mercy for what you’ve done.” He spit on the ground beside her. “Should Athuul grant you penance in the hereafter, and you should see my mother, give her my love.” He gave Elizabeth a shallow nod as the smile fell from her face. Sebastian sheathed his sword, and without another glance, he bolted toward the woods.

  The soldiers were too far away for any real chance at catching him, so once he was in the thick of the trees, out of their sight, he changed directions and took pains to leave no trail behind they could trace. He traveled for hours, putting as much distance between him and the Red Guard as he could.