Lesbia Chronicles: Over Witch's Knee

by Ther Renard

  "A word of warning," Ayla replied. "Kira has treated you gently, as a lady and a lover. I suggest you do not become a combatant. She is not kind to those she must conquer."

  "Kira bought me to you," Rogette reminded her. "She does not have the stomach to deal with me."

  "She gave you yet another chance to avoid trouble," Ayla said. "But your chances are quickly running short, Rogette. You reminded Atrocious of her place. I suggest you remember yours."

  Rogette unsheathed her dagger, flipped it over the back of her hand, tossed it up in the air and caught it on the way down. "I know my place," she said with a cocky grin. "And don't forget, I have Thorberta on my side. We're going to be unstoppable." She finished her little display by clamping the back of the blade between her teeth, giving Ayla a rakish grin and a wink.

  Rolling up her sleeves, Ayla went to the kitchen. "I see I am going to have to brew some more salves. You are not going to be able to move, let alone sit."

  Removing the blade from her mouth, Rogette laughed boldly. "Do not worry about me," she said. "I've survived far worse than a silly old Blood Witch. Worry about your aging warrior and your whinging slave."

  Ayla placed a large wooden bowl on the table and began breaking herbs into it, snapping stalks between long capable fingers. "Double strength, I think," she mused to herself. "There won't be any time for licking wounds."

  "THE LIKES OF ME!"

  The words thundered through the house, shaking the wooden rafters. It was more than a shout, it was a roar that could not possibly have come from any mortal throat. The rumbling and shaking grew in intensity, the sound of a hundred feet stamping angrily on bowing boards. Dust and splinters began to rain down from the roof, making Rogette sneeze.

  "Under the table," Ayla said.

  "What?"

  "Under the table!"

  "Why?"

  Ayla reached out and grabbed Rogette. She dragged her underneath the kitchen table just in time to avoid being crushed by a veritable stampede of small mages, all hollering at the top of their lungs.

  AIAIEIEIEIEIIEWORLROLORLORLORWWWIIIIIIIIIIIIII

  They came rushing through the house in a wave, shouting, whooping, hollering. They burst through the front door and hurtled into the dark village. They banged on shutters and kicked at doors and tore at thatching, running amok with wild abandon. A small party began tearing at the gardens, wielding potatoes and carrots like projectile weapons, whilst others began rushing toward the long house, the house at the end of Lesbia, the house where Ariadne lived.

  Chapter Thirty One

  As the whooping horde approached the house at the end of Lesbia, the great doors of the venerable building flew open. A harsh gale blew out from the interior of the house, a gale emitting from the small, slight form of Ariadne. The high witch stood at the threshold of her home, her eyes glowing through the thick black band slashing the length of her face.

  The gusting wings were strong enough to knock the rampaging mages off their feet and send them tumbling across the village. Shrieking and howling, they tumbled and tossed in the air, dozens of them bouncing around like loose rubber balls. One by one they popped out of existence under Ariadne's glare, all the while chattering and hollering in protest.

  Slowly the winds died down and then the night was still. Only shutters hanging askew, tatty thatches and trampled gardens spoke to the invasion that had taken place.

  Ariadne's golden eyes slid to Ayla's cottage. Slowly, the high witch crossed the village at the edge of Lesbia and let herself in. It was not difficult to gain entry, the door had been forced open by the infestation and hung on limp hinges.

  "Ariadne." Ayla came down the stairs, her hands folded in front of her. She was looking slightly worried, though her elf composure hid her state of mind from all but the most perceptive onlooker. "How does this evening find you?"

  "Where is the summoner?" Ariadne did not bother with pleasantries.

  "Summoner?"

  "Do not play dumb with me," Ariadne said. "I know the work of a summoner when I see it. Now where is she?"

  "She is... sleeping," Ayla said.

  "Do not lie to me, witchling," Ariadne snapped. "Bring her down here."

  "She can't come down right now."

  "Why not?

  "She's unconscious."

  Ariadne swept by Ayla and went upstairs where she found Atrocious passed out on the witch's bed. Atrocious' color was pale and her breathing was shallow. She barely seemed to be alive.

  "She has almost killed herself," Ariadne said, checking Atrocious' pulse. "A release of energy of that magnitude... why was she permitted to do it?"

  "She did it of her own accord," Ayla said. "Her control is minimal."

  Ariadne laid Atrocious' wrist down. "As is yours, I see."

  The high witch turned to Ayla, her presence filling the room though her stature was smaller. "You have not so much as left the village and already you have disaster on your hands."

  Ayla pressed her lips together and made no reply in her defense.

  "What do you have to say for yourself?"

  "Are there any words that would convince you this was not a failing of mine?"

  "The first summoner born in thirty generations and she lies at death's door for reasons you refuse to explain." The dark lines swirled around Ariadne's face in agitation.

  "Well," Ayla said. "You did have a vision of her laying like this, did you not?"

  Ariadne's eyes flashed. "You speak impudently, witchling."

  "I speak the truth. Your vision has been realized," Ayla said. "As for the whys and the wherefores of the incident you refer to, I can only say that her temper got the better of her."

  "She lacks discipline," Ariadne said. "It is up to you to help her control her impulses."

  "Atrocious and impulse control are two concepts that do not fit well together," Ayla replied.

  "Nonsense," Ariadne snapped. "She needs to be taught, that is all. You are too soft, too lenient, too forgiving."

  "I thank you for sharing your thoughts on the matter," Ayla said tersely. "Atrocious is going to need a great deal of rest and care over the coming days, so if I might be permitted to tend to her as I see fit..."

  "No," Ariadne cut in. "Your tender care has created someone dangerous to herself and everybody around her. You will bring her to my house immediately. She will stay there under my care and she will learn the self control necessary for her to wield her powers."

  "I do not think that is a good idea."

  "I do not care what you think," Ariadne replied. "This is my realm and my rules apply. Now bring her to me."

  "No." Ayla made the refusal in a voice that was hoarse and dry. There was an uncommon look of guilt on her face, a knowledge that she had made a mistake that was about to cost her everything.

  "You will be punished for your defiance," Ariadne promised. "Bring her at once. She needs to be attended to by one who is capable of teaching her."

  "Atrocious is mine."

  "She is a husk," Ariadne said. "Do you wish to cohabit with the shell of a woman? Can you love a body devoid of mind?"

  "She is sleeping," Ayla said. "She has exhausted herself."

  The high witch made a noise of annoyance. "She is not sleeping. She has thrown herself out of her body altogether," Ariadne said. "Do you not see the signs? Bring her now, before her soul wanders beyond even my reach."

  Chapter Thirty Two

  Atrocious wandered lonely as a cloud high above Lesbia. She'd quite unexpectedly discovered that she could fly. She liked flying. It was fun to fall and fall and then swoop up again before you hit the ground. She tumbled around, catching rising warm air and riding it in an upwards spiral, then falling out the other side and gliding high above the green and blue land below. She was not afraid of being so high up, she seemed to have forgotten how to be afraid. She had forgotten how to be upset too. The emotional storm that had thundered through her body had passed in an instant and now she was free to roam in a world beyond f
eeling.

  All was perfect and all was beauty - at least until black tendrils came reaching for her, wrapping about her ankle and dragging her toward the earth. She fought against them, biting them and growling and struggling, but they were insistent and strong. She yelled and protested, but more tendrils came, wrapping around her waist and her eyes, making the world go black.

  "No!"

  Atrocious woke up shouting. She opened her eyes and looked into Ariadne's golden gaze. "I didn't want to come back," she said. "It was nice up there."

  "It is not your time to wander yet," Ariadne said, tucking blankets more tightly around Atrocious' body. "Now rest."

  But Atrocious did not want to rest. She wanted to get up. She pushed the blankets back. It was a mistake.

  Ariadne slapped the back of her hand hard.

  "Rest.”

  "Where's Ayla?"

  "Rest."

  Atrocious scowled at Ariadne. "I don't want to..."

  "What you want doesn't begin to be relevant," Ariadne said. "Now close your eyes and rest."

  Pulling the covers up to her nose, Atrocious peered around the room. It was filled with all sorts of interesting objects. There were things hanging from the ceiling, and stacked on the shelves. There were jars and books and little cages and bits of fabric and small statues and jewels and much more besides. All of them seemed to be begging to be looked at more closely, to be touched and marveled at.

  Testing the high witch's resolve, Atrocious slid her foot out from the coverlet and put her big toe on the ground. When Ariadne did not respond, she let her heel rest on the ground too. She almost had her entire foot on the floor when Ariadne turned about, whipped the covers back and flipped Atrocious onto her stomach before Atrocious could so much as apologize or explain. Ariadne had a cane in her hand, a short, nasty, whippy thing which she bought down across the thick cotton nightshirt covering Atrocious' bottom.

  Atrocious cried out as the sharp burn shot through her skin. It was followed by another stroke and then another and then another. Ariadne bought the cane down a total of ten times across Atrocious' poor cheeks, leaving her in tears.

  When she was done, Ariadne pulled the covers up without another word and tucked them back around Atrocious. There was no comfort given afterward, no care, no soft reassurances, no tender caresses. There were no more warnings either. Atrocious did not so much as dare to reach back and rub the stinging mass that was her backside.

  Stuck on her tummy with a blazing bottom, Atrocious wet the pillow with her tears until she fell asleep in a small mushy puddle of her own making.

  When she woke up again, all was quiet. Night had fallen. She no longer felt quite as weak or sad as she had when she'd first woken up. In fact, she felt like her old self, so much so that she tip-toed out of bed and looked around.

  The great house at the end of Lesbia was labyrinthine on the inside. Little corridors and halls lead to room after room. Some were bedrooms, others were store places and still others were securely locked. Atrocious peeked through keyholes, trying to spy what was inside. In some rooms she spotted flashes of gold and silver. Other rooms seemed to contain living things, beating their wings against the still air. There were many treasures, but the only treasure Atrocious was truly interested in was freedom. She was not looking for gold or jewels - she was looking for the way out.

  "A thief in the night, sneaking and peeking about the place." Ariadne's gravelly tones broke through the silence. "That is deserving of a paddling."

  Atrocious jumped in surprise and put her hands back to cover her bottom. Turning to face the high witch, she found herself lost in fascination. The dark swirling lines on the high witch's face were moving about in slow sinuous patterns and in the middle of all the dark movement, two eyes glowed.

  "I wasn't doing anything," Atrocious said. "I was just looking..."

  "And what were you looking for, precisely?" Ariadne drew closer. Ariadne was not a large woman, but she was a slight bit taller than Atrocious. Even if she hadn't been, her presence would have dwarfed the thief regardless.

  Atrocious' mouth went dry. She tried to grope for an answer that would satisfy the high witch, but she could think of none.

  "I was looking for a way out," she said, blurting out the truth.

  "You want to run away, don't you?" Ariadne's voice was calm, perhaps not kind, but still somehow soothing. "It is what you always do when confronted with consequences. You run as far and as fast as your legs will take you."

  "It's what smart people do," Atrocious said, defending herself against the unspoken charge of cowardice.

  "It would not be smart or wise to run from me," Ariadne said. "I will release you when you are ready. Until that time, make your peace with your place and you will learn many things."

  "All I have learned is that you are cruel," Atrocious said, speaking her mind boldly.

  "Cruel?" Ariadne's eyes gleamed. "You do not begin to understand the meaning of the word if you think me cruel. You were disobedient and you were punished. That is the order of things."

  Atrocious was not listening. She had spied what she thought was the door in the distance. Taking to her heels, she rushed past Ariadne and ran into the large main room, the place where Ariadne's weaving loomed large, the place where food was prepared and eaten, the place of coming and the place of going.

  To her surprise and glee, the doors were open. She could see the village outside, bathed in pale moonlight. She could even make out Ayla's cottage. She was certain she saw Kira standing outside too! With a little cry of excitement she ran even faster, using her very last reserves of energy in the mad dash.

  She was not fast enough. Before she reached the outside world, the doors slammed shut in front of her nose. Skidding to a halt, she let out a cry of despair and banged her fist against the wood.

  "Let me out! Let me out!"

  When Ariadne did not comply, Atrocious rushed to the nearest window and tried to climb out of it. The shutters were sealed tight and she could not move them.

  "AYLA!" She yelled through the shutters. "AYLA! HELP!"

  "Stop that din," Ariadne snapped.

  "I want to go!"

  "Yet again, what you want is irrelevant," Ariadne informed her.

  Ignoring the witch, Atrocious began to try to break out the slats on the shuttered windows. It didn't work - and she received a hard cut from the cane for her trouble. Leaping away from the window, Atrocious took shelter in the corner of the room. Tears of frustration and fear ran down her face as Ariadne approached.

  "Cease this senseless display at once," Ariadne ordered.

  "I want Ayla," Atrocious sobbed.

  "You want Ayla, but what you need is a good thrashing. And a decent meal," Ariadne said. She cocked her head to the side and regarded Atrocious with a questioning look. "Which would you prefer first?"

  Food or thrashing? Atrocious chose neither. As the tears ran down her face she could hear the chattering. They were coming back. They would put paid to Ariadne and her nasty cane. They would free her to fly again.

  "LET ME GO!" Atrocious yelled at the top of her lungs.

  Ariadne did not bat an eyelid, but Atrocious didn't care. It wasn't about getting Ariadne to do what she wanted, it was about bringing those mages back so Ariadne had no choice but to do what she wanted.

  "LET ME GO!"

  The chattering grew louder. They were coming, hundreds of them, possibly thousands. Atrocious grinned through her tears. Ariadne would be sorry she'd ever gotten out her cane, Ariadne would be sorry...

  Ariadne stepped forward and clapped a hand over Atrocious' mouth. "Say another word," the high witch rasped in a voice that sounded like winter wind rushing through bare branches, "and I will give you a beating like no other."

  The chattering stopped abruptly. Her allies had deserted her. Atrocious was left alone, looking into the black rimmed eyes of the high witch, a woman whose body emanated power.

  Atrocious let out a little whimper, but said nothin
g.

  "You will not summon anything without my permission," Ariadne said. "If I see so much as a beetle that doesn't look right, I will take you to task. Do you understand?”

  Atrocious nodded mutely. Ariadne removed her hand.

  "Come and eat," she said. "You need to regain your strength. Every time you summon something, you use your own life force to do it."

  "Really?"

  Ariadne's eyes narrowed as she produced a slice of pie from a cupboard. "Ayla has much neglected your education. She has not taught you the most basic things about your powers. She has left you an insolent, empty-headed brat."

  "At least she was nice to me," Atrocious said in Ayla's defense.

  "Nice isn't pleasuring you every evening and tolerating your ignorance," Ariadne said. "Nice is giving you what you need, the knowledge and the tools to make the most of your powers. As it is, what little talent you have you've developed on your own. It is crude and it is dangerous." She put the pie in front of Atrocious. "Eat."

  The pie was made of meat and pastry and Atrocious wanted to eat, but her stomach was tied in knots. "What did you do to Ayla?"

  "Never mind what I did to Ayla," Ariadne said, confirming Atrocious' suspicions that something had been done. "Worry about what I am going to do to you."

  Atrocious almost choked on a flake of pie. "What are you going to do to me?"

  "I'm going to teach you," Ariadne said. "I'm going to teach you how to control your emotions, and how to summon without shrieking like a banshee. The shouting is not necessary."

  "It's not?" Atrocious cocked her head to the side.

  "No," Ariadne explained. "There are other ways to create the necessary vibrational energies."

  "Vibrational energies?"

  Ariadne sat in her chair and picked up her knitting. "Everything is made of vibration," she said. "Movement. The transference of energy. I am one vibration. You another."

  "I am made of meat," Atrocious said. "Like this pie..."

  "And what separates you from that pie? What makes you alive rather than dead?"