Till Death And Beyond (Witch World)

by Lyn C. Johanson

Amira watched as Pharell and Regan bound, gagged and hid the two guards they had knocked out, while Deron stood watch. His eyes were going back and forth from the dusty road to Eliana and back to the road. It was not the road where the danger lay, Amira knew, stepping inside the catacombs.

  Amira hardly touched the ground as she flew through the passage-way and down the winding stairs, stopping only when she encountered two Venlordians stationed at the foot of those stairs.

  With her family members hot on her heels, she scrambled the brains of Venlordians without the slightest compunction, leaving their hate-filled minds entrapped and misled. She had just enough time to send them to the farthest end of the dungeon before she heard the dull sound of footfall.

  One by one, four figures emerged from the entrance with their swords unsheathed, and Pharell leading the descent. The narrow, tunnel-like space they abandoned as swiftly as possible was brilliantly designed to leave assailants at disadvantage.

  Broad enough for a single person and twisted in such a manner that the one who descended would be forced to fight with his left hand. It wouldn’t have presented any difficulty for Pharell. Amira had seen him wield his two slim blades he’d named dao kanjis. She knew he was more than proficient with both of his hands.

  The loud clangs of weapons meeting, however, would have been a dead giveaway. An invitation to every Venlordian down in the dungeon. But with the guards gone, they encountered no resistance and Amira could take a quick glance at their surroundings.

  She heard the water slowly dripping down somewhere to her left, and only when her eyes adjusted sufficiently did she see damp, mossy rocks glistening under the torchlight. Torches were fixed on the right wall every fifty feet, illuminating a narrow rocky tunnel that seemed to have no end. She wasn’t endeared to the poor visibility, but the foreboding she carried bothered her even more. For the moment she could swear the walls were closing in and all the air, humid and foul as it was, leaving her lungs.

  Amira shook the thought away just in time to see the four form a circle with Eliana in the middle. Her mother drew a witch’s mark on the ground, sprinkled it with bits and pieces of something that looked like hair, and gave the small ritual dagger to Pharell. Her cousin cut his palm, letting blood drip on the mark, and returned the dagger to Eliana.

  “From blood of blood and witch’s pain,” she cut her own hand, “guide us spirits, light our way.” The small ball of light formed out of the mixture of hair, Pharell’s and Eliana’s blood, and rushed forward, revealing the safe way.

  The four of them followed quickly. After twenty feet turned to the left. Another left and then right, remaining silent in their pursuit of the already-fading light. That was what Amira hated most about spells. They required blood and were still so temporary.

  On that thought the light faded completely, leaving them without the guide. And in the maze they were currently in, they desperately needed it. Not only to show the safe way, but also to allow them to find what they were looking for in the first place.

  It would be possible to wander those tunnels and not find a way out for a month, Amira thought, turning another corner with the others, and stopping in her tracks. Time froze as five pair of eyes came face to face with a nightmare. No one even breathed. Not until the sharp intake, as Eliana gasped, interrupted the complete silence.

  In front of them stood an alcove with chains and shackles hanging down from the ceiling, the walls, and even sticking out of the floor. And in a set of them there was a naked, limp body hanging. Logic dictated it was a girl, probably young, but her body was so beaten, whipped and bruised it was hard to tell. All Amira could see were red welts, broken limbs, and half of the skin burned. Her hair was brutally chopped off, in places along with pieces of her scalp; and Amira shrank from looking at the horror of what was left of her face. The image made her gag, and that said a lot, given how very few things could shock her. She was fighting shivers that crawled down her spine and under her skin.

  She had seen death in many forms. Experienced it firsthand more often than she would have liked to, but this … she shook with rage and fury at what the poor girl must have suffered. Was still suffering, Amira realized, as Pharell swung his blades, his aim true, bringing a quick, liberating death.

  Amira closed her eyes for a brief second, opening them involuntarily as the head met the cold and dirty ground. She averted her gaze, and against her will was caught and held captive by the sight of her mother’s buried face into her father’s chest. Silent sobs were shaking Eliana’s body while she held on to Deron as if her own life depended upon it.

  Somehow Amira felt even colder in the presence of a loving, consoling embrace. She was used to standing alone, dying alone, simply being alone; she didn’t hope for or expect otherwise. But right now, she could barely control her emotions, meaning she was an inch from revealing her presence or even worse, returning to her body.

  Amira did her best to shake off her desires, pain, grief and horror, as she followed the others and their new guiding light again, but two images were stuck in her mind. The suffering of one witch, and the comforting embrace of the other. The first one she was desperately trying to avoid. The second, she could never really have.

  Self-pity was never an indulgence of hers, and she was not going to start now. Instead she focused on the cells in front of her. Scanning the areas behind the metal bars just as the others did. But as far as her eyes could see, every one of the cages—it was impossible to call them any other name—were empty. Of people anyway. For every last one was furnished with various devices such as hanging chains, or something that resembled a cross with multiple restraints for ankles and wrists mounted on some of the walls; while in other cells they lay about three feet above the ground. One didn’t need a florid imagination to see the vulnerability of the spread-eagle position those devices imposed. Thankfully, at least every damned cross was empty.

  Amira turned another corner, only to witness more cages. More chains. More crosses. Empty, thank goodness.

  No, she realized, as she saw a shadow moving on her right side. Turned. Sofie’s haunted face was just a few feet away, watching all the sides at once. Dread and exhaustion etched on every line of her face, as if expecting Venlordians to show up any minute.

  She ran to the darkest corner of the cell the moment she heard footsteps, curled into a ball, and began murmuring something under her breath. Probably not even realizing she was doing it, she rocked her body back and forth. Back and forth.

  As the hushed sounds neared, her murmuring and rocking intensified. The three seconds it took her family to find her seemed to last forever. Even for Amira. And she was not the one scared and curled up barefoot on the cold, damp, ground.

  “Fia, oh gods,” Regan whispered, with such tangible relief Amira felt it to the marrow of her bones.

  “Daddy!” Sofie’s ecstatic cry echoed down the corridor as she jumped from her curled position and ran toward her family. She shoved her hands through the iron bars and grabbed the front of her father’s clothes. “You came!” Her shaking fingers moved up to touch his whiskered chin. “You came.”

  “Shh, sweaty, not so loud,” Regan breathed out, his own eyes moving frantically, searching for any indication his little girl was harmed. Examining her from the loose brown hair to the bare feet. “Did they hurt you?” he asked, so afraid of the answer his own hands trembled as they clasped hers. “Did they—”

  “No,” Sofie shook her head, “they brought me food once a day and left me alone, but I was so afraid… ” her un-shed tears glistened in her eyes, “I thought—”

  “We’ll get you out of here,” her brother promised, already unlocking her prison. He was using the key that could only have come from one of the Venlordians, Amira pondered, wondering how much it could have cost. Venlordians were believers in their cause. They simply didn’t sell out their own.

  The moment Sofie’s cell opened and Pharell took her into his embrace, Sofie let out a breath she’d been holding in, a
nd hugged her brother back.

  “Let’s go,” Deron finally spoke, his gaze locked on the corridor. “We need to find Milla and get out of here as fast as we can.” Something is not right here, Amira deduced, agreeing with her father. It was just too easy.

  “Where’s your mother?” Regan asked.

  “There,” Sofie pointed to the right, “I think.”

  “Stay behind with your aunt,” Pharell directed her.

  The five of them crossed another twenty feet and turned, coming face to face with a cage in which Queen Milla was being held. Again, Pharell unlocked the bars, but his mother didn’t leave the cage. She stood at the opposite wall, barefoot just like Sofie, her long brown hair hanging loose, her gown dirty. She shook her head. “Leave, just leave me.”

  “My love,” Regan rushed forward, leaving the others to stand in front of the door, “come.”

  “I can’t,” she whispered, “I am chained.” Milla lifted the hem of her skirt, revealing a thick metal cuff around her ankle, and a chain linking it to the wall.

  “I don’t have a key for that!” Pharell said before his father even breathed a word.

  “Damn it,” Regan cursed, “we’ll get you out … somehow we’ll get you—”

  “No,” she shook her head again. Her hands cupped his cheeks and tears ran down her face. “Leave me. Save Sofie.”

  “Milla—”

  “Listen to me,” she cried, “you have to go. They knew you would come.” The last statement got everyone’s attention. “Save my daughter. Leave … please.”

  Damn! Now it was Amira who swore. She felt so impotent looking at the horror on her uncle’s face. In this form she couldn’t do anything about the chain. And breaking it with pistols and swords, if it was even possible, was a sure way to invite the enemy.

  All she could do was watch as Regan took his wife’s lips in such a heart-wrenching kiss Amira was sure she would have cried if she was able to. His every pore reeked of desperation and agony as he refused to let go of her. Even when the sound of footfalls reached their ears.

  “Please,” Milla begged.

  “Deron, take my children and go,” he told Amira’s father, his eyes never leaving Milla’s pleading ones. “Run!”

  But before Deron could say anything, the Venlordians were already there. About a dozen of them were coming from both sides. They looked determined. Their swords were at the ready. They surrounded them. Left no way for escape.

  “You didn’t think it would be that easy to bribe one of us, did you, Your Majesty?” one of them laughed.

  Amira breached the minds of two of them, in the one moment forcing each to believe the other one was an enemy. Making them fight each other the same time as Pharell and Deron engaged the others.

  Regan joined the fight, but Amira could see his skills were rusty, and Eliana’s potions immobilized them for only a few seconds. Despite being outnumbered four or five to one, they fought, flanking the women at the entrance to the cell, where Milla stood with her palms covering her mouth, as she watched her husband’s desperate movements.

  Amira was trying to help as much as she could, but the cacophony of swords clashing, men yelling, and bodies grunting with exertion belied her every effort to deceive them, allowing the Venlordians to get their bearings too fast. It was a losing battle and she knew it. Even when Pharell killed one, his dao kanjis slicing the man’s chest, and her father wounded another, they were still outnumbered and being relentlessly backed against the iron bars. Having less and less space to maneuver.

  “Surrender, or you’ll watch your women being burned alive,” a Venlordian threatened, but they didn’t cease fighting. There was nothing stopping the Venlordians from burning them alive, even if the men surrendered. Fighting was their only option.

  Their backs now completely against the bars, they guarded the doors, where the women stood cuddled together, with their very lives. They blocked each and every attack, but how much longer they could manage to hold, Amira didn’t know. They were already on the defensive, and tiring fast.

  How she wished she could be flesh here. Then everything would be different. Her spirit form was powerless. Still, Amira gathered all the strength she could muster and touched every mind she was capable of. Incapacitating them for those few seconds.

  “Run!” she shouted, knowing Regan would not leave his wife, but maybe the others could…

  Pharell and Regan used their advantage, killing three more, while Deron delivered strike after strike to the chain holding Milla. Finally one of the links gave out and he was able to separate it. Quickly, he led the women through the sea of Venlordians, using his swings to clean their path. Regan and Pharell added their swords, guarding their backs and sides as best as they could.

  A few more of the confused bastards went down. Amira was already on her knees, trying to hold them for as long as she could, but they were snapping out of their trances. One by one. And she had no more power to use. None to borrow. She was starting to wane.

  Just as she thought they would manage to run from the danger, they ran into it. A new group of Venlordians stepped in front of them, one of them knocking Deron out with a brutal swing. He went down seconds after the handle of the Venlordian’s dagger connected with his face. Eliana gasped, trying desperately to reach her husband, but was dragged away by her hair and lifted back to her feet.

  Before any of them could react, the Venlordians had Eliana and Sofie in their clutches, holding daggers to their throats. The new set of events immobilized Regan and Pharell as they stood.

  Amira watched in trepidation as each member of her family wound up at the sharp end of the blade. While she was helpless. Barely holding her form.

  “His Majesty needs a lesson,” one of the members of the Order spoke, looking from one woman to the other. “Which one?”

  Amira held her breath as Regan shook his head, refusing to choose. She knew he would volunteer himself, but the Order still needed him, and a way to control him.

  “Who is it going to be? Your wife, or your daughter?” the Venlordian prompted.

  “Me!”

  “Take me!” Pharell and Milla answered at the same time. “Leave my daughter, please. Take me,” Milla begged.

  “I believe I will,” the Venlordian unsheathed his dagger and stepped closer.

  “No—” it was Regan’s voice that rang loudest in the maelstrom of shouts as he tried to protect his wife. Amira gathered her last reserves and aimed at the Venlordian, desperately trying to avoid the inevitable.

  The last thing Amira saw as she faded away was the dagger changing course and sinking deep into Sofie’s chest.

  “No!” she shouted, waking up in her body. The scream of hers was emphasized by lightning striking the tree ten feet away from her. Again and again. At the same spot. Striking and striking as she shrieked in agony.

  Even Jim and Willy hid, probably thinking her crazy, but she couldn’t care less. Right now Sofie’s scared eyes were all she could see. Amira couldn’t believe she was dead, or worse—dying on the cold, dirty ground in front of the sneering bastard. And she could do nothing to stop it.

  She didn’t know Sofie well, even less than Natalie, but she certainly didn’t wish her such a death. She didn’t want… Anger churned inside her. Lightning was striking the same tree over and over again. Flames rose up into the sky.

  “What’s going on?” she heard a voice, and footsteps approaching. She couldn’t care less. She’d just watched another being murdered. The same girl who had sung with her when they were little. The only person who was immune to her songs. Now she was dead. Dead. She’s dead, Amira yelled not realizing her voice was heard in only one person’s mind.

  “Who?” Raven asked, walking closer and sitting beside her. “Who is dead?”

  “Sofie,” Amira breathed out, unaware she was talking. “My sister. Sofie.”

  “I’m sorry,” Raven whispered, his hand touching her cold cheek. “I am so sorry.”

  “Are you?”
She brushed his hand away, not really knowing what she was doing. Not knowing how to cope with the sea of emotions swirling inside of her. She lashed out. “Are you really? Isn’t the world better off without another witch in it?” She stood tall and simply walked away, aware that even the gods wouldn’t be able to help if someone crossed her right now.

  Raven sagged onto the ground, knowing only time could help her. No, actually that wasn’t right. Time hadn’t helped him. He still felt a burning hollow in his soul where his sister used to be. It was a pain he carried always. Always.

  Chapter 18

  Amira scurried through the mansion as if her tail was on fire. She marched through the front door, sending it crashing open against the wall, and halted when the sound reached her ears. When a dozen pairs of eyes landed on her.

  She didn’t know what she was doing, what was going on inside her. Her hands shook. The air sizzled with pent-up unleashed energy. She was losing control. She grabbed for the wall, fighting to stay upright. Another bolt of lightning cracked the sky.

  Rampant emotions were her enemy. If she didn’t manage to stifle this gnawing pain inside, she could become a danger to everyone. And yet, all she could think of was pain as she stood looking at people going about their everyday chores. She looked with eyes blind to everything except visions of a girl who had been tortured within an inch of death. Of another, who had it relatively easy; and of all the others in the past and in the future.

  She sensed, more than saw, someone approach. People were talking, but all she could hear was the slick glide of a blade plunging through the flesh, and the thud of the head meeting the ground. The sounds were deafening to Amira.

  “Leave me alone,” she spoke through gritted teeth, and watched as another lightning bolt cracked the sky. The pain in her chest was so strong, she almost screamed. She just wanted numbness. Wanted not to feel a thing. Not a single thing.

  “Breathe.” Strong hands wrapped around her as she fought against the urge to incinerate something. Her power was seeping through her clenched fists.