Witch Queen

by Kim Richardson

  As Fawkes rode on ahead, I pulled my cowl low enough to keep my face in shadow. I kicked Torak forward, and all the men followed behind me in hooded silence.

  As the distance between us and the witches in the fields decreased, I realized that the field workers were not witches at all. They were humans. I was glad that my cowl had hidden the emotions that marred my face.

  They were chained like animals. Elderly men and women, their skin rough and deeply lined from a lifetime outdoors in the sun, were working the fields. Their bodies were bent with age, and their clothes hung loosely on their bone-thin bodies. They were picking fruit off low shrubs and turning over the earth with their bare hands. They didn’t even look up as we rode past them.

  I felt faint, ready to slip off my horse, but Fawkes’ grip closed around my hand like an iron shackle.

  “Don’t,” he warned. His face was inches from mine and covered in sweat that hadn’t been there a moment ago.

  “He will see you. There’s nothing you can do for them. And if you don’t want your humans to suffer the same fate, I suggest you keep quiet and keep your head down.”

  I swallowed back my rage. “Who will see me?” I whispered.

  Fawkes raised his head and I followed his line of sight. A giant white wolf with a black head sat on his haunches on a low mound. The beast was enormous, the size of a small horse. Even in the distance I could see the unnatural yellow and red glow in his eyes. They looked like burning coals. He turned his gaze towards me, and I felt my skin crawl.

  “His name is Wiscar,” answered Fawkes, his voice low. “He’s a shifter witch, and the most brutal of his kind.”

  Something shifted on Fawkes’ face, and for a moment I could see that he and this shifter witch had met before.

  A spark of anger ignited in me before I could control it.

  “But how is this even possible?” I hissed under my breath. “How did all these old people cross the barrier and the pass?”

  “They didn’t. They were all born here. They are a generation of slaves.”

  Fawkes went back to his chanting, and his lips moved faster and with more urgency than before. I could smell his magic, the sweetness of pinecones and wheat. He did not want this shifter witch to see us.

  I looked over my shoulder. The men were as angry as I was. Nugar kept shaking his head like he was having some sort of seizure, and Lucas’ eyes and nose dripped with tears. Only Leo appeared to be stone faced, but the moisture in his eyes did not hide his emotions. Will stared at me with an angry and silent accusation in his eyes, like he thought I had known about the slaves and hadn’t told them.

  I opened my mouth to reassure him, but he turned away. It felt like a slap in my face. My face burned, but I kept watching the men until I was certain they weren’t about to race over to try and free the slaves—as I so desperately wanted to. But even if we had, how far could they go? We couldn’t bring them with us to Lunaris. And I doubted they could make the journey across the pass.

  With a pang in my heart, I knew these wouldn’t be the last slaves we would see in this realm. How similar Witchdom was to Arcania. Our capital was filled with human slaves, too.

  How many generations of humans would be bred to become slaves until the light eventually faded from their eyes?

  I urged Torak forward and willed myself to stop shaking. The need to avenge these people was overwhelming. It was like staring at the Pit. Instead of the priests, in this case, it was the witches that had turned humans into slaves.

  I blinked the tears from my eyes and turned away from those wretched folks. Fawkes’ original warning started to pound inside my head like a migraine.

  I shouldn’t have let the men come with me. They would have been safer back in the woods of Fell Forest. Maybe they were already dead.

  I prayed to the Goddess that whatever spell Fawkes was chanting would keep the men safe and hidden from the shifter witch. But as we left, I felt the shifter witch’s yellow-red eyes burn into the back of my head.

  CHAPTER 16

  MY HEART WAS HEAVY with sorrow as we continued on our journey to the capital. The road was overgrown with tall grasses and scrubby pine, but the animals moved with ease and grace, even the elk. A flock of small pink birds with long feathered tails like two strips of delicate lace flew over our heads chirping happily, free and without a care in the world.

  With every passing hour, my heart pounded faster and faster. Even in the cool air, my body felt on fire. My shirt was soaked in sweat and clung to my back and chest. Beads of sweat trickled down between my breasts. I was a mess, and I smelled like a vagrant from the Pit. Hell, I probably looked like one.

  I’d cry if I dared to look back at the men, and I didn’t want to arrive in Lunaris with red eyes and a puffy face. And so I rode on with an increasing dread in my soul.

  The road widened. It was flat and hard with signs of frequent travel. To the south, a village cozied up to the mountains and forests. Soon, wooden and stone buildings began to appear on either side of the road. Many of them had large, lavish manicured lawns, and they reminded me of the villas back home. But as we got closer I could see that the architecture was different. The buildings were not square, but circular, and their designs included many curved shapes with bowed windows and doors. Some of them were nearly ten stories high. And what made them most interesting was that they were all decorated with magical symbols. I couldn’t help but marvel at the buildings. They were beautiful and unique. But my admiration faded as I remembered the slaves we had seen in the fields.

  The main road wound between and around the buildings as we made our way through the town. I kept my head low, but I could see that the town was bustling with witches.

  The women wore vibrant colored gowns. Some draped over their shoulders and wrapped around their waists baring their midriffs, while others were halter necked and backless. All of them were tailored from rich, silk-like material. They were most unlike the dull brown and tawny colors I was used to seeing back in the Pit. The men wore tailored knee-length coats that buttoned up to the collar and were made of the same vibrant silks.

  One of the female witches had glowing hair the color of a hot flame, while other female witches had regular blonde tresses. Like Fawkes, all their hair sparkled in the sun like they had washed it with liquid gemstones. A few witches glanced up as we passed, but most of them completely ignored us. I thanked the Goddess that Fawkes’ spell was still working.

  After a few hours of riding through outlying districts, we crested a hill and finally came upon the capital.

  Lunaris was situated on a picturesque lake and surrounded by fertile green hills of towering pine forests and chiseled mountain peaks. The city looked to be about three times the size of Erast. I’d never seen such a vast city before, and I felt myself stiffen.

  A black stone fortress appeared to be floating in the sky as it looked down over the city from a distant hill. It had pointed turrets that shot into the air like a giant crown set with swords and was protected by a great stone wall. Villas and small villages dotted the landscape at the foot of the fortress. It was the perfect home for a witch king. It was clearly magical, and yet I felt a darkness there that I couldn’t explain. The fortress looked forbidding and dark—and Fawkes was leading us there.

  I could see that the men shared the same fear I felt, and I turned away from them lest they see me and feel further discouraged.

  Fawkes never faltered in his spell casting, and his lips moved constantly in silent incantations. But his face had lost its natural glow, and he looked ill. Whatever magic he was performing was draining him. I didn’t know if it could eventually kill him, but I knew he couldn’t keep it up for much longer. But Fawkes continued his chanting, and the road quickly turned from dirt to cobblestones as we entered the city.

  Lunaris was alive with the sounds of wagons and witches going about their business. Our trotting hooves and jangling harnesses echoed loudly on the cobblestones and made for a not-so-secret entrance. I
flinched when some of the witches looked up as we passed, and I held my breath. But their gazes wandered off, as if we were not really there. We kept moving towards the black fortress and most of the witches took no notice of us at all. Fawkes’ lips moved rapidly. His spell was still working.

  The smells of exotic spices and roasting meat filled the air, and my mouth watered. The cramp in my stomach was increasing in intensity, and I worried I’d pass out from hunger.

  We made our way up a stone path that led to the fortress. I cursed softly as I realized that I hadn’t prepared anything to say to the king once we had arrived.

  How would I even approach the subject? Why would he even want to see me? Goddess help me. Give me strength.

  The closer we got to the fortress, the smaller and more insignificant I felt. My stomach knotted as I tried to control my nerves. I could smell the putrid fumes from the moat that surrounded the fortress as we crossed the drawbridge. We passed through a gatehouse and under a giant metal portcullis that looked like the mouth of a creature. Finally, we arrived inside the courtyard where we followed Fawkes’ lead and dismounted next to the stables. A young male witch with a golden tree embellished on the front of his coat and wearing the same colors as Fawkes greeted us. The two witches looked at each other, and I could see a silent understanding flash on their faces. Luckily the young witch barely noticed us, as his full attention was on the animals.

  Torak was dear to me and it pained me to leave him in this strange place.

  “Is it safe to leave the horses out here?”

  Fawkes stopped his chanting for a moment.

  “Witches consider horses and all other animals to be treasures. They’ll be better looked after here than in any place in either of our worlds. You have my word.”

  My heart still ached at leaving my beloved horse behind. I would just have to trust him.

  Then Fawkes was moving again, and I urged the men to follow me.

  We crossed the courtyard, and Fawkes made for the fortress’ entrance. He never stopped chanting his protective spell, and I practically had to run to keep up. I only caught a glimpse of the bleak, mist-slicked stone walls of the fortress before we disappeared inside through the iron and oak-planked doors. The magic hum that emanated from the fortress pulsed like a great heart. I found it unsettling that there were no witch guards at the entrance.

  My mouth was dry, and I felt ashamed that I was going to meet the witch king, a real king, in my stinking and unkempt state. I couldn’t remember the last time I had pulled a brush through my hair or even washed it. But there was nothing I could do about it now.

  We followed Fawkes through an arched entryway that led into a long hallway. I tried to get my bearings and remember the hallways and corridors of the fortress in case I needed to make a quick exit. But I hardly had time to think as Fawkes strode down yet another hallway. Left, right, left, another left—after a few minutes I was completely lost. The halls all looked exactly the same.

  Leering faces did watch us go by, though none of them looked remotely concerned or disturbed that we were practically running through the hallways. There were witches everywhere.

  The next thing I saw nearly sent me crashing to my knees. I skidded to a stop.

  Hanging on the walls, like great paintings or luxurious tapestries were rows of human skins stretched out like animal hides on wooden frames. Some were just the chest, while others were the skins of entire human bodies including the heads and hair. Inscriptions in Witchtongue were engraved on iron plaques at the bottom of each human hide.

  My head swirled, and I gagged.

  Fawkes was next to me instantly, and his face was green and sweaty.

  “Elena,” he gasped, “we need to keep moving. I can’t keep up the spell for much longer.”

  I blinked the tears from my eyes. The men all gathered around me and shared in my disgust and terror. A few witches stopped and stared suspiciously.

  I could tell that Fawkes’ cloaking spell was starting to fail.

  “I should have never let you come here,” I whispered to my men.

  A tall dark witch started to make her way towards us. This was a death trap for them, maybe for all of us.

  Leo reached out and squeezed my arm. “It’s too late for that now.”

  He reached inside his cloak and grabbed the pommel of his sword. “If we die here, we die fighting.”

  His bravery and loyalty moved me to tears, but I held them back. My panic turned to hate. Good old hate, my trusted companion. I clung to my hate, and it helped to mask the terror I felt. I hated this witch king. Perhaps I hated him as much as I hated the priests, perhaps even more.

  We ran, and I heard witches yell in alarm, but we didn’t stop. We ran on fear, on hatred, and on desperation. It took a great effort not to look at the hundreds of human hides that lined the hall. Fawkes stumbled, but he quickly steadied himself and kept moving.

  Just when my lungs were about to burst, we arrived in a chamber that was packed with witches. They were all gathered and waiting outside a pair of double iron doors.

  They wore the same styles of clothing I’d seen in the towns, but now I could see clearly how different they all were. Some witches were dressed in the same emerald green and adorned with the golden tree that Fawkes wore, while others were clad in white with a gold pentacle on the front, just like Ada’s. Some were clad in silver with the symbol of an eye within a pyramid embellished on the front, and still others wore purple coats emblazoned with ravens. Some of the witches even wore jeweled pendants.

  An official-looking male witch stood next to the doors. He wore a black knee-length coat with a red hand on the front, and his dark hair was pulled back neatly into a long ponytail.

  I was filled with too much nervous energy to keep still, and I shifted on my feet. This was it. Beyond that door was my fate. I rubbed my sweaty palms on my cloak and gripped the pommel of my sword. I might have been going to my death, but I wouldn’t arrive unarmed and vulnerable.

  The witch at the door cleared his throat and raised his brows.

  “Next to present their case to the witch king are witches Giburb and Tala from the Shifter clan. Please make your way to the front.”

  Two witches clad in purple separated from the group and headed towards the doors, but Fawkes pushed them out of his way and stormed towards the doors with me and the men closely behind him.

  “Wait!” yelled the official as he placed himself directly in front of the door.

  “You cannot go into the witch king’s court unannounced! Who are you? I’ve never seen such ruthless behavior before. What’s your name? I don’t recognize you or the other witches with you—”

  But then his expression changed to something foul as he growled, “Humans!”

  Everyone froze. The witches turned their collective hatred towards us, and I knew we only had seconds left to live.

  The official threw up his hands and whispered an incantation. But Fawkes was already on him, and with a flick of his wrist, a gust of wind sent the witch crashing into the opposite wall.

  “Quickly, get inside,” urged Fawkes. His body shook, and he looked as if he were about to fall over.

  “I can’t shield you anymore. My magic is spent.”

  The air in the hallway shifted with electrical charges, like right before a lightning storm. The witches’ hatred for humans was unmasked. Their lips moved in unison, and their pendants began to glow with yellow magic.

  Cold with panic, I couldn’t move.

  And then the witches unleashed their terrible power.

  CHAPTER 17

  YELLOW, RED, AND GREEN streams of magic shot towards us, but Fawkes barreled into us first. We crashed through the iron doors and collapsed in a jumble of bodies on the other side. The magic careened off the stone with such force that it cracked as though it were nothing more than a thin sheet of ice.

  That could have been me.

  Fawkes leaped to his feet and raised his palms. The doors slammed shut wit
h a great gust of wind.

  A thundering boom crashed into the doors from the other side, and I feared the witches’ magic would burst them open. But the doors stayed shut.

  “It won’t hold for very long,” said Fawkes as he wiped his sweaty brow with his cloak. “But it should give us enough time to plead our case to the witch king.”

  He sighed and looked at me intensely as I pushed myself to my feet. “You ready?”

  I raised my brows and resisted the urge to smell myself as I patted down my hair as best as I could. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  With a straight face, I looked over to Will, Leo, Nugar, and Lucas. They looked as resolved as I did, but I was sure it was only a ploy to lift my spirits. I could feel their desperation, and I knew that it mirrored my own.

  I raised my chin. “For better or for worse. Let’s do what we came here to do.”

  I was surprised at the steadiness of my voice since my entire body shook with fear. The men nodded, but their hands rested on the hilts of their swords.

  I walked beside Fawkes and tried to conceal my panic. With the men at our backs, we moved between the gleaming rock columns that upheld the ceiling of a vast black granite chamber. I strained to keep my teeth from chattering. I knew that I would meet the witch king here, and I was certain he had heard our entrance.

  The walls on either side were decorated with paintings that depicted the wars between witches and humans. Rich tapestries hung on the walls, and the fire sconces that hung on the columns reflected yellow light off the gleaming, black granite floor.

  A small group of witches was assembled in the witch king’s court. Some stood while others lounged on long sofas or sat at tables and sipped from jeweled cups. Although they milled around and chatted, their eyes didn’t leave us.

  They wore the same colors and symbols as I had seen on the witches outside. I realized that there were only five different variations of colors and symbols, and they must signify the five different clans. I made the easy identification of the Elemental clan because they wore the same colors and symbols as Fawkes. The White Witches wore white garbs and gold pentacles. The ones in silver with an embellished eye must have been from the Augur clan, and those in purple with the raven must have been from the Shifter clan. That left only one clan, the Dark Witches, and they were dressed in black with an emblazoned red hand.