Lesbia Chronicles: Over Witch's Knee

by Ther Renard

  "You were right," Kira said, her gruff voice unusually soft.

  "I was? About what?" Ayla asked the question absent-mindedly, concentrating on mixing her salve.

  "I'm losing my touch. And I'm never going to get it back." Kira looked in the direction of the setting sun, her expression distant. "This is the beginning of the end."

  Ayla's lips twisted wryly as she tried to take Kira's concerns seriously. Having the vital, strong warrior before her becoming melancholy at the loss of her powers struck her as more than a little silly, but the problem was clearly real to Kira. "You're barely middle-aged, Kira. I think you have a few good years left in you," she said gently as she applied a bandage over the bridge of the warrior's nose.

  Kira smiled a dry, distant smile. "There are no old warriors, Ayla. We both know that."

  "You were never afraid of death," Ayla reminded her.

  "And I'm still not. I will miss living though." Kira sounded wistful, as if she were already halfway off the mortal coil and looking back at life.

  "Kira... really."

  "You think she's the last?" Kira jerked a thumb back toward the cottage. "She's the first. The first of a whole lot of younger, faster, more dangerous people. Their number grows by the day, and my strength will fade by the same."

  "Well she can't have beaten you, the village hasn't been razed to the ground," Ayla pointed out pragmatically as she dabbed salve over a few minor abrasions on Kira's forearms.

  "She didn't want to," Kira said, her jaw tightening at the memory. "When you get used to fighting people, you start to be able to feel their strength. When their blade touches yours, you can feel them in it. She's just as strong as she says she is. Maybe more than she knows she is. She could have beaten me if she'd wanted to." Kira snorted. "But she wanted the cake more than she wanted my blood."

  The golden glow of the setting sun cast its gentle light on the warrior's face, highlighting the lines about her eyes and mouth, wrinkles that seemed to grow deeper as night shadows began to claim the day.

  "I'm becoming weak. I can no longer fulfill my purpose in body or spirit." She rested her hands on either side of her body, her shoulders hunching as she looked down at her feet. "All of this, with Atrocious, Ariadne... it's growing. We're caught up in something bigger than us, Ayla - and I don't think I'm going to survive it."

  "You are stronger than you think, Kira," Ayla said, hearing how hollow the platitude sounded, even though it was undoubtedly true.

  Kira shook her head, long strands of silky black hair falling over her shoulders. "I've always been good at knowing myself. It's what's kept me alive this long. I feel my end, Ayla. Maybe you don't because you live so long. Yours is a long way away. Mine is drawing closer. We can't hide here. We can't hide anywhere." The sun dipped below the horizon, sending one last blast of rays across the enchanted village, a light that momentarily lit Kira's face so it seemed to glow. "Something is coming, something big. It's been following us since we left your house in the woods. It's found us here and now it knows where we are it will come in force." Kira's brows drew sharply together as her face fell into shadow. "What if we can't beat it, Ayla? What if I fail just when it matters the most?"

  "What if I get more cake?" It was Thorberta's rasp that came out of the shadows. She stepped out from the corner of a nearby house, her hands on her ample hips, silver blades hanging like baubles from a leather belt that had been obscured by her voluminous robes.

  "You don't need any more damn cake," Kira barked with angry embarrassment.

  "Maybe you need a little more cake." Thorberta slapped her hands to her face and made an exaggerated 'O' of mock despair with her lips. "Oh no! I am too old for the fightings!"

  Kira growled in the face of Thorberta's unabashed mockery. "I should..."

  "You should make me a cake," Thorberta interjected. "Cry into the batter, and I will feast on your tears."

  Kira's jaw dropped at the momentous disrespect. "You know," she said, standing up and stretching her neck by tilting her head from one side to the other, her vertebrae cracking in the gathering darkness. "I'm not too old to beat your ass yet."

  "What's that, grandma?" Thorberta snapped the response, then was forced to take a big leap back as Kira lunged at her, missing out on grabbing her by just a hair.

  "Cheeky wretch," Kira shouted.

  Thorberta's laugh next sounded from a good hundred feet away as she beat a hasty retreat.

  Chapter Twenty One

  "I think we're getting close to finding her," Zephyr declared, beaming with optimism and brushing leaves out of her hair as she swayed in the breeze.

  "How do ye figure that?" Chatsie asked the question whilst clinging to the trunk of the rather large tree they'd found themselves perching in at very short notice. Her stubby arms were not quite long enough to reach entirely around the thick bark. Her hair was filled with bits of grass and twigs and other debris she could do nothing about, for she needed both hands to keep hold of her perch. Above her head, Zephyr's lanky legs dangled from a branch and beyond that was nothing but blue sky and quite a large fall.

  "Well for starters, we can probably see that witch's house from here."

  "We can see almost everyone's house from here, ye flaming idiot!"

  Chatsie was right. The view afforded to them from the top of the tree was quite beyond compare. They could see three villages, two of which they'd already been hounded out of and one that was surrounded by an Imperial patrol.

  "Wonder what they did to get themselves all that love?" Zephyr said, swishing her legs back and forth in a way that made the tree top sway. The movement resulted in the great brown bull below snorting and stamping all over again. He pawed at the ground with a hoof the size of a small dinner plate and made a grunting moo of annoyance, tossing his head as he did.

  Chatsie groaned and shut her eyes. "Will he never go away?"

  Zephyr gazed down at the creature. "He'll go when the cows come into season for sure."

  "And how often do cows go into season?"

  Zephyr grinned down from the tree top. "Every three to four weeks, just like a lady."

  "Humans don't go into heat, ye fool!"

  "Yes they do, they just don't know it," Zephyr said, using her wise tone. Her wise tone involved an artificial softening of the voice and a certain unnatural roundness to her vowels. 'Yes they do', therefore became 'Yeous thouey doooo.'

  Chatsie growled. "I could stab it."

  "You can't just go around stabbing every beast that chases you up a tree," Zephyr said. "Besides, he's probably more afraid of us than we are of him."

  "If that was true he'd be up the tree and we'd be having our dinner."

  "Actually," Zephyr said, "we'd probably be in custard-dee. If we hadn't climbed this tree, we wouldn't have seen those soldiers over there before we walked into them. He did us a favor."

  Chatsie did not respond immediately. She was squinting toward the third village as a thin plume of smoke began rising from the square. It was followed by several more puffing clouds from buildings around the edge.

  "I think that village is on fire."

  "I think you're right," Zephyr agreed, the smile falling off her face. "And I don't think those are Imperial soldiers."

  It was hard to make out precisely what was going on in the distant village, most of the people were so far away as to be specks, but a silver ring of armed people around the outside of the little town was quite clear. They did nothing as the fires began to rage out of control, catching on dry tinder and thatch. Chatsie and Zephyr watched in horror as the thin plumes of smoke turned into thick clouds, leaping black and red into the sky as the village burned.

  "We have to do something," Zephyr croaked.

  "What? We couldn't get there in time even if we ran, and if we did get there, we'd be burned like those poor..."

  Chatsie was interrupted by a large booming sound as the flames went black. Smoke rose in a thick wall and then formed the shape of a large bird, a creature that e
xtended more than a mile in every direction and cast a harsh shadow over the crumbling village and its surrounds. Zephyr and Chatsie could only stare in disbelief as the bird took solid form, still smoking at the long fringed wings which began to beat against the air, sending gusts across the plains and forest. The hell-bird was shaped like a raven, but its beak was flame and its eyes were twin orbs of fire. Its wings trailed more smoke with every beating stroke they took through the acrid air.

  "Blood magic," Chatsie whispered to herself, her eyes wide with fear. "Old magic."

  Dwarf and detective both scrambled down out of the tree as the daemon bird opened its fiery maw and uttered a flaming shriek that tore through the air in a wave of despair and destruction, setting treetops alight for miles ahead of it.

  "Head for the river!"

  Chatsie screeched as they touched ground and began running. There was no further bovine impediment to their escape. The bull seemed to have taken as much exception to the mile long bird as they had. They found themselves chasing after its bounding backside and running in the wake of its streaming, steaming effluent as it fled.

  Chapter Twenty Two

  In the house at the end of Lesbia, a meeting was taking place. High witch Ariadne presided over it, her solemn face animated by the sinuous tracers living under her skin. They coiled and writhed with agitation, becoming thick and dark about her golden gaze and across her mouth so that when she spoke it seemed as though her voice came from an animal-eyed void.

  Five women were assembled before her in various stages of duress. Ayla stood with her hands on Atrocious' shoulders. Kira was clearly suspicious of the whole affair, but her hands were full with a trussed and tied Thorberta who had been transported on Kira's back. Only Rogette seemed truly pleased to be there, charmed as she was. Ariadne's little dark tendrils played about under the skin of her hands, chasing about in a flowing grid.

  "Atrocious. Ayla. Kira. Rogette. Thorberta." Ariadne intoned their names with deep ceremony. "Five points of a pentagram. It is time you did the thing you were brought here to do. The world that hunted you now needs your help."

  There was silence, aside from a muffled growling from Thorberta.

  "We practice earth magic," Ariadne continued. "But there are other kinds of magic. Light magic. Dark magic. Summoning magic." Here she looked at Atrocious. "There are almost as many kinds of magic as there are peoples of the world, and more besides. But none is as dangerous as the kind which has returned to Lesbia. I speak of blood magic."

  Ayla took a sharp breath. The others looked suitably blank.

  "Are you certain?"

  "I am," Ariadne replied. "There can be no doubting it. The raven of blood and fire has bought death to some and it will surely bring death to many more if it is not stopped."

  "We're looking for a bird?" Kira asked the question, her brow raised with incredulity.

  "You are looking for something without form. You are looking for something that hides in the hearts of men. You are looking for a whisper on a bloody evening's breeze. You are looking for the last gasp of the dying..."

  "An achievable goal then," Atrocious deadpanned.

  "You would not be so flippant if you understood what you face. But you will understand soon enough."

  "Who says we're going to face it?" Atrocious spoke again, for Rogette was still charmed and Thorberta gagged. There was nobody else to voice dissent. Kira was a witch hunter by trade and Ayla, well, Ayla never seemed to disagree with Ariadne.

  "You have no choice in the matter."

  "You can't make us."

  Ariadne gave her a pitying look. "It is not my will that commands it. It is written in the weave of time. All things are as they were meant to be."

  "Bullshit," Atrocious glared. "We're not puppets on a string."

  "Atrocious, hush," Ayla cautioned. "This is not a time for bickering."

  "Oh, so she says 'go fight blood magic' and we just go do it? Is that how this works?" Atrocious scowled. "I do not like this."

  "Your liking is not of concern to me," Ariadne snapped. "Listen to your mistress, she knows best."

  "Yes, Ayla knows best." There was something a little snide in Kira's tone, which drew a sharp look from the half-elf witch.

  "Your party is fractured," Ariadne said. "If you remain this way, you will be destroyed. You must learn to love one another. There is only one way to defeat blood magic, and that is with a pure heart."

  Thorberta made a gagging sound and rolled her eyes, effectively communicating her disdain for all things pure.

  Ariadne's eyes flashed with anger. "The younger ones may leave. Kira, Ayla, I would speak with you alone."

  Rogette and Atrocious were given the unenviable task of half-dragging Thorberta's squirming trussed body out of Ariadne's presence whilst Kira and Ayla stayed behind to hear the high witch out.

  ~~~

  Outside in the pleasant sun, Atrocious got down on her knees and began untying Thorberta. "I'm going to let you go," she said. "But if you're mean, I won't ever let you go again." She glanced into Thorberta's face. "And there will be another time, because you are the sort of person who gets herself tied up more than once."

  "You probably shouldn't do that," Rogette said in a sing song voice. "Kira bound her for a reason."

  "Shake it off already," Atrocious muttered with annoyance. "The obedient nymph act is getting old."

  "Just because somebody likes me, you're jealous," Rogette said, swaying her hips so her silken dress undulated in the breeze. "You're jealous of my pretty clothes and my pretty face and my pretty... everything."

  Atrocious paused in her untying of Thorberta and looked up at Rogette. "That's all it takes for you to get like this? Someone liking you? God. We have to keep you out of busy taverns."

  Dismissing Rogette for the moment, Atrocious paused before unbinding Thorberta entirely and removed the gag that was keeping Thorberta silent.

  "Do we have a deal? I untie you, you act like a normal person."

  Thorberta growled.

  Atrocious scowled back at her. "And stop that. You sound like a dog."

  "You're stupid to untie me," Thorberta said. "I am danger. I am killer. I kill all."

  Atrocious rolled her eyes. "You're a lover of cake, and a maker of silly threats. You're supposed to threaten things you can actually do, you know? I mean you wouldn't destroy all who cross your path, would you? You'd probably mug them for baked goods."

  Thorberta's eyes flashed fire. "You call me fat?"

  "I'm calling you silly," Atrocious said. "And mean. But mostly silly."

  "We will see who silly when is time for," Thorberta snarled menacingly.

  "Good," Atrocious said. "That was much better. When the time comes. That's vague enough to be believable."

  "I will tear your heart out with a spoon!" Thorberta roared.

  Atrocious winced and shook her head. "See, no, that won't work. One, spoons don't tear. You'd probably need... what would you need?"

  She replaced the gag and sat back on her heels to think about it whilst Thorberta fumed and turned a funny strawberry shade of red.

  ~~~

  Meanwhile, a stone-faced Kira and a serene Ayla were listening to what Ariadne had to say.

  "Neither one of you is without merit," the high witch said. The dramatic markings that had scored her face slid away as she relaxed somewhat and sat down. By the time she spoke again there were just a few curling tendrils playing around her hairline. "But neither one of you is without fault."

  Kira set her jaw and said nothing. Ayla nodded as if she understood what Ariadne was saying. The sound of bickering carried from outside.

  “SPOOOOOONNN!”

  Ariadne ignored the noise. "What lies ahead is dangerous. For you personally and for all of Lesbia. Your party is discontent, full of anguish and personal woes. If you two cannot find peace with one another, then there will be no peace in your party, and if there is no peace in your party, then all is lost."

  "Look," Kira
said, her voice gruff. "I can kill any kind of witch. Even this blood witch you're all so scared of. But I'm not a miracle worker. That half dwarf half ogre or whatever she is out there is a loose cannon. We don't need her around. Rogette and Atrocious do nothing but fight. Ayla and I will face this witch alone."

  "If you do that, you will die."

  "Maybe you need to have a little more faith in me and Ayla."

  "You and Ayla?" Ariadne let out a short laugh. "There is a chasm between you two. You could not fight with one another if you wanted to. You lack heart. You lack conviction."

  Kira's eyes narrowed to slits. "I lack nothing."

  She turned and walked away, her shoulders held rigid with anger. Ayla was left standing before Ariadne, her expression mild.

  "I am not fooled by your act of innocence, Ayla," Ariadne said. "You have been acting on lust for weeks now, leaving Kira to deal with the angry one, leaving Rogette to my pleasure. Tell me, is Atrocious everything you thought she would be?"

  Ayla smiled, a rare blush appearing high on her cheeks. "She is all that and more."

  “Then enjoy these days,” Ariadne said. “For they will be your last.”

  Chapter Twenty Three

  "What are you doing?"

  Atrocious looked up to see Kira's muscular frame looming over them. The warrior's eyes were two dark slashes in her face, narrowed with ill temper and displeasure. Rogette was already at a safe distance, smirking serenely, leaving Atrocious to face the irritated Kira alone.