Playing With Fire

by Adrienne Woods et al.

  If not for him discovering his mother’s body, he would have been none the wiser himself. The tortured, morbid thought of how different things might have been between him and his father if he had not known the truth of her death churned inside his gut. Beyond that memory his mind touched on the witch his father hired to make the ‘situation’ disappear. At first he was grateful that the witch could do that, he didn’t want to remember his beautiful, happy mother like that. Perhaps it was his young mind trying to cope with the lie and the guilt of hiding the truth about her death. He’d always hoped his father wasn’t as bad as he seemed, so he went along with the cover up back then. Because he refused to believe his mother would ever leave him alone with his abusive father. She had promised to always protect him, and she would never break her promise to her only son - Khan believed that with all his heart, even to this day.

  Nine years later, Khan can still remember what the witch looked like. Never forgetting the way her ropy dark hair swam around her head as she cast that spell, her muddy brown eyes flashed so bright the room around them took on a yellow iridescent hue. As a child he’d never seen a witch until then, but he’d never expected her to look so normal. And he never truly believed in magic until he watched it happen right in front of his very eyes. With bated breath, a young Khan watched in awe as the dark red marks, and grotesquely purple swollen skin of his mother’s wounds disappeared from around her mutilated neck - as if it never really happened at all.

  And when the spell was done, and the witch had been taken back to the dungeon awaiting her execution, he remembers that deep shifting feeling magic left on his soul – even at such a young age he knew he’d never be the same after that. But now Khan realizes why, it’s the same magic he’s felt inside of him. With every transformation he’d felt it, and he denied it.

  And for the long ten months after the death of his beloved mother, and before Ashlan had come into his life, he doubted every single thing about all of existence. His mind playing tricks on him when he was alone in that tower, which was most of the time.

  The witch haunted his dreams in the form of a winged beast with a tail and evil yellow eyes. Ashlan’s arrival had made things better, and he’d put his mother’s death and the blame he cast on his father and himself behind him.

  Again his memories confirms there was no way Ashlan knew the truth around the circumstances that surrounded his mother’s death. Because he knows his father is way too proud a king to confess the truth to his new bride to be. To the king, the suicide of his wife challenges his judgement, his choices, and in turn his leadership capabilities. So the only other way Ashlan could know his mother didn’t die of an illness, is if she was the one who caused it.

  Within that inert moment it all comes back to him. The hurt, the anger, the lies - and like smoke dissipating in the breeze, his emotions rip open; previously healed wounds revealing something about Ashlan lying in his arms. She doesn’t smell like Jasmin; her scent is of roses, just like that morning his mother allegedly committed suicide. Because now he doubts that too.

  His eyes still cast down on Ashlan’s face, his blood running colder by the second. Her small button nose doesn’t seem that adorable anymore. What if there was a kind of magic that you couldn’t see? His mind working every detail to make it untrue. To take away the possibility of the only other woman he has ever loved in his life, not to be the one who murdered his mother. To not be the one who lied her way into his troubled, tortured heart, soul and worse - his bed.

  From across the room a bright sliver of moonlight shines in through the tiny gap in the velvet indigo drapes; splaying onto his bed and sparkling off her big green eyes.

  As Ashlan looks up at him in an eerie deadly silence. Eyes he had found himself lost in so many times, now suddenly seems unfamiliar and cold as he stares back at her. Her perfect scarlet pout morphs into an ugly, wicked grin. Ashlan doesn’t even look surprised that he had figured it out. In fact she seems pleased with the idea that he finally knows.

  “It was you.” His voice only but a whisper, but rings so loud within his head it feels like he is screaming it at her.

  He doesn’t know how, he doesn’t know why, and at this point he really does not care for the reasoning behind his mother’s murder. His large hands recoil from caressing her slender back, trying to breathe through the rising fire inside of him. He pushes her from him as she lay calmly on his bare chest. Grabbing her as she tries to escape, he slams her back into the mattress, pinning her with all his fevering hatred to his wooden bed. Her soft, porcelain skin glimmers in the slight light, long red hair sprawled over his white pillows.

  He feels so foolish for believing she wasn’t like the others of her kind.

  “Every single little thing that has happened from my cursed existence, my mother’s death,” he pauses for a brief moment. “My father trying to kill me, me becoming a murderer.”

  She smiles up at him. “Your reign was so glorious. And you are glorious.”

  “Don’t.” he warns her.

  “But what good are you to me, if you have it all.”

  He puts it together quickly. “You made sure I had everything my heart ever desired.”

  “And now I shall rip it all from you.”

  His hands wrap around her throat and he starts to squeeze - Furious at himself for putting his heart in the hands of a witch, for going behind his father’s back with their love affair… He squeezes even harder uncaring of the dreaded consequences. She was responsible for Erik’s death, for Audun’s death.

  He growls at her. “Erik didn’t want to hurt you did he? I killed him for you!”

  Ashlan’s face turns red, then purple, her body squirming as his knees pin her petite shoulders to the silky bedding. Her legs coming up, delivering a sharp kick to one of his kidneys causing him to shift his weight, giving her the gap she needed to free one hand.

  Her long fingers rakes across his face, splitting skin, and drawing blood. And when that doesn’t seem to evoke the reaction she needs, she thrust a palm to his nose leaving him a little rattled, allowing her to reach out to the moon and call upon its power.

  As the enchantment leaves her lips, her fingers calling out for the glow, Kahn is ripped from her struggling body by an unseen force, taken to the air, and slammed into the stone wall. Dust and debris rains down on him, the very air from his lungs pushes out by the invisible force of the blow as he crumbles to the floor.

  Ashlan rises from his bed, nausea gripping from the pit of his stomach. Casually she walks over to the hanging chandelier to retrieve her robe. Her slender hips moving like the slow slither of a snake approaching its prey.

  He wonders about her delicate nose, her rosy cheeks and porcelain skin, starting to question her long legs, the seductive arch of her back. Is her magnificent features a carefully constructed package to lure him in?

  With a roar he stands swiftly and runs at her, gripping her with both hands, and lifts her slender body over his head with the strength of a rampant bear. Slamming her back onto the bed, he puts all his weight on her before she has the chance to cheat with magic.

  “Witch.” He growls, shaking her violently, hoping this act would somehow reveal her true form.

  “Murderer.” He accuses her.

  His fist about to come down on her, then he freezes as the blood seeping from her wounds seems to heal up quicker than he could deliver the next blow. He stops immediately, his chest rising and falling with sweltering disdain. His large hands combing through his long tousled black hair as he stands in awe.

  Khan blows out a frustrated breath, “You don’t deserve death at my hands.”

  She gives a slight shrug, her gown falling from one shoulder revealing the curve of her breast.

  “Ashlan, you deserve to rot at the bottom of an unending, dark, damp pit. To be scavenged upon by the rats, to suffer – you deserve to suffer for your sins.” He sneers

  Taking another step away from her, “You will not make me a killer, with everything
in me I will find a way to strip you of your magic and trap you.”

  Her eyes flash a bright yellow. “I’d love to see that.” Her ruby lips a screw smile of a challenge.

  “You better kill me now Ashlan, or I will find a way to destroy you.”

  Ashlan moves toward him, proud of her ambitious efforts to ruin the Kingdom. Pulling her robe closed around her body, she comes near inches away from him grinning up at him. “What a pity, thought you actually might have it in you to kill for those you love. I’ll just have to try harder next time.”

  His black hair falls into his face as his strong chin dips in dark determination. “There will be no next time.” He swore unto her, and reaches out for her wrist. “I will come for you when you are happiest, and I will watch as I make you destroy everything you ever desired.”

  “Oh that old trick.”

  His grip around her wrists softens. “I will never ever become that thing, no matter what you do. For whatever reason you created me. I will let the beast die today.”

  Ashlan seems disappointed with his confession, but then the greedy glare in her green eyes return with a yellow spark. “You don’t have it in you.” She smirks. “Your no kill attitude makes you weak, Prince.”

  She reaches for her necklace around her neck, snatches it up and pulls it form her throat. Throwing it to the ground at the door and starts speaking in the strange language of magic.

  “Stop that.” He demands, reaching for her other wrist. With both hands restrained by his, Ashlan pushes up into his bare chest with hers; her face so close he could see the slight freckles across the bridge of her nose.

  “Where were your morals when you stole your father’s bride to be and made her your lover behind his back?” She whispers with a hiss.

  His eyes narrow on hers. Why would she leave him alive? Why would a murderer let him go, especially after she confessed to killing a Queen, the last Queen of the Vikings? Did she not know what he is capable of?

  Suddenly Ashlan screams so loud, Khan has to let her go in order to protect his ears from the horrid screeching. The very floor beneath him trembling at the sound, and he knows every single person in the castle must have heard her appalling shrieking.

  Opening his eyes he witnesses her healed skin giving way to the wounds he had, and some he didn’t inflict on her. Bruises and blood blossoming over her delicate features. Her hands come out hacking at him, and he tries yet again to restrain her. But a powerful witch such as Ashlan is no match for his half-mortal strength. She kicks out still screaming some kind of enchantments as stuff around his chambers smash to the floor in pieces. She rips at her night gown, revealing her nakedness beneath. Something hard knocks him on the back of the head, and as he tries to clamp down on her mouth to stop her from incantation, her hand comes out again, slashing her wicked nails across his bare chest, slicing his golden skin to the pink, bloody flesh.

  “Not if I ruin you first.” She sneers.

  Trying to provoke him further, Ashlan slaps him thought the face, then yells so loud her voice booms across his room and into the passageways beyond. “Your father will never forgive you for murdering his beautiful bride to be.”

  Her vanity holds no bounds.

  “Witch.” He sidesteps her next blow, wincing in pain as his flesh starts to singe inside his ghastly wounds. Blistering and bubbling along the gashes. “What on earth…”

  Ashlan says a few magical words, and helplessly Khan watches as her body flies across the room, landing right against his dresser with a loud crash. At that, the door flies open and the King with his Watch storm in. Khan shoots her a look discovering the King’s sudden recovery can only be her doing, and most definitely his illness too.

  Ashlan rises her upper body from the floor. “My King help me form this beast,” Clutching at her torn nightgown.

  His father’s dark eyes stare down at the disregarded necklace he had given his bride to be.

  Wounded, and in nothing more than a sheet wrapped around Khan’s waist; the Prince looks undeniably guilty of what Ashlan is accusing him of.

  “He did this to me!” she shrieks, fake tears staining her light skin.

  “Get him.” His father orders the watch, Birger unsheathing his sword.

  Bravely Khan stands, his eyes steady on his father’s hard face. Three of Khan’s chevalier, the same one’s he has trained start circling him, yielding weapons. Khan knows he could easily fight his way out if he’d transform. But his fight isn’t with them.

  Khan desperately yells at his father to reconsider, Birger and his chevalier pointing their gleaming swords at his throat. Rising his chin in deviance Kahn scoffs,

  “Perhaps you helped her kill my mother.” His eyes shoot to Ashlan who stands smiling, a small light emitting from the palm of her hand.

  King Ivar walks over to his son, “How dare you.”

  He struck out, landing a good punch to Khan’s jaw, while the three Chevalier stand firm in their orders.

  The prince’s head snaps back at the blow.

  Khan spits blood to the carpet at his father’s feet, his voice coming out almost beastly. “Coward!”

  Surprisingly Birger is the one who flinches, nicking Khan’s throat. The Price’s eyes flash in anger. And with one punch Khan knocks Birger to the floor. The remaining guards try to go in for the kill. So fuelled by his rage, Khan lashes out, ducking swinging blades. Kicking out he lands a good blow to one of the Chevalier’s chest. As he flies across the room, punches his other opponent in the stomach as his blade glides over his head. As the chevalier goes down, Khan delivers an elbow to the back of his neck, hears the crack of his spine and watches the man collapse unbreathing.

  Ashlan’s laughter fills the air.

  “Come on old man!” Khan yelled at his father.

  “You are too afraid to take me on, just like that day on the battlefield at The Great Lake – always hiding. You are good for nothing.”

  Ashlan stands in the corner of the room, hands twirling in delight as she watches the men fight.

  And as father turns against son, both losing control of years of pent up anger and resentment, her potent magic starts to take hold, fraying at the corners of the world around them.

  Khan’s father goes at him with a heavy ringed fist, knocking the wind him.

  “I am much bigger now father. You can’t beat me up anymore.”

  Striking out he punches his father in the stomach, spins around as his father comes at him again, and lands a painful blow to his father’s kidneys.

  “You didn’t deserve my mother.” He yells at his father.

  Staggering, his father straightens with a low growl, “Perhaps you caused her death with your constant needy behaviour. She took you in as if you were her own because she pitied you.”

  “What?” Khan stood confused.

  King Ivor’s eyes raking over the three comatose Chevalier. “Monster.” He growls and goes for his son. Khan strikes a blow to his father’s nose, the blood immediately spilling onto his face. His father draws his sword leaping forward, and slices wildly at the air between them. Khan laughs as his father as the blade nicks his skin.

  Ashlan mumbles something like. “Stop fooling around and kill each other already.”

  She tilts her head to the skies enchantments leaving her mouth quicker than either of them can react. Fire and smoke eating away at the curtains and furniture in the room. She yells out more evil spelled words, watching as both Kahn and his father stand dripping blood from their wounds.

  Both men are shocked to silence as the floor starts to shake. The fire burning in the hearth exploding with a flash of light. Every single corner suddenly lights up. Their heads darting between walls, eyes trailing the cracks as they start to form in the corners. A quack rocks the entire castle, cracks forming so fast and big, the walls look instantly veined. Both men ducking flying dust and debris adding to the stifling room as the very foundations of the monstrous castle begins to split open at their feet - Ashlan’s spel
l has taken hold.

  “Fuelled by royal blood and darkened by a lover’s betrayal.” She calls to the moon over the chaos, her words echo throughout the castle, blasting its wicked song into the night. Her eyes roll into the back of her skull like a woman bent on evil intentions.

  With a manic laugh her hands fly out in front of her and she grabs onto some invisible rope and starts pulling, then yanks hard. With protesting roars from both men she holds both their heads bowed before her, and into the cracks of the stone floor forces their blood into the dark abyss below.

  The smell of burning flesh, hair and smoke choke up Khans airwaves, his blurry vision giving way to the dizziness and then his body simply collapses beside the widening crevice in the dark stone floor. He watches powerlessly as the contents in his room tumbled into the growing hole. Raising a hand he tries to pull her into the gap. She kicks him away then leans over pulling his hair back.

  She whispers into his ear, her breath smelling of sweet, decaying roses. “One last ingredient.”

  She lets him go and stands, grinning at the pandemonium around her, stares Khan in the eye as he lay brutally wounded at her feet, held down by her all mighty magic, and kicks his father into the darkness of the deep opening.

  “NO!” Khan croaks, his body draining of his life-force as the spell eats at him from the inside.

  She stands back, staring at the destructive spell as the wooden bed and beams in the room hiss and pop as the fire devours all in its wake.

  “I will come for you.” Khan mutters, staring into the dark opening in the floor. He sees a fire coming up from the depths of the crevice, thinking that this is the underworld and she is Hel herself.

  Water rises up from the gap reflecting his bloodied face and his blazing end.