A Witch's Rite

by N. E. Conneely

  With another twist of my wrist, my sword returned. I took up a position between the golem and the door. As the golem returned to its previous form, I prayed Michelle would forgive me. This was not the way I would have chosen to die, and I hoped she was able to escape the golem's wrath.

  When the golem got to its feet, I began a complicated sword pattern. By the time the creature was within arm's reach, I was at full speed and the sword was nothing but a blur in the air.

  The golem stretched out an arm, and I cut through it, sending a hand to the ground. It pulled back the stump and reached out with the other arm. I kept the sword moving, carving small sections off any part of the body I could reach. I sliced through its remaining arm. While this rapid attack was working for the moment, I could not keep it up for long, and I did not have a plan for when my arms fell victim to fatigue.

  It pulled back what was left of its arm, and I could almost see the golem considering what to do next.

  I let the sword slow. "I have no wish to hurt you. Break off this attack and leave us be. We are correcting a wrong in the world and rescuing a friend."

  The golem's chest thinned, and three arms surged into being. One grabbed my sword and would have taken it from my hand, but I dismissed it before the golem could use it against me. I managed to duck way from the blow meant for my head, but there was no time for me to avoid the hit to my chest. My partly healed ribs cracked, and my vision started to black out.

  I reached for the medallion. Help me.

  Pulling the dagger out of my boot, I stabbed the golem's foot. Even as I did it, I knew it was a foolish move. It would not hurt the golem, simply make it angry.

  The medallion warmed and took control of my hand. The golem swatted at me, and the medallion forced me to pull the dagger out of its body as I dodged the blow. Then my hand dug the death rune into the golem's foot.

  The rune sank into its flesh, and the foot, all the way up the ankle, crumbled to dust. I might not be able to kill the golem outright, but I could dismantle it piece by piece.

  Looking up for my next target, I knew I wasn't going to get that chance. The fist hurling itself at my face was going to make sure I never passed the knowledge along.

  Not wanting the golem's fist to be the last thing I saw, I looked to the door. A form awash in energy was moving toward me. Blues, reds, and the white swatches of power tumbled and twirled. That was more power than any person should be able to hold. I had to be looking at a creature of myth, and if the golem did not kill me, that seething mass of magic would.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Michelle

  I planted my feet in the doorway, not daring to get any closer for fear of injuring Elron with the magic. There was simply too much of it, but I knew how to solve that problem.

  Focusing a burst of energy, I pushed the golem away from Elron. It landed twenty feet away, flattening a small holly bush. Glancing down, I assured myself that Elron was alive, but I didn't stop to assess what damage the golem had done to him. Elron wouldn't be safe until the golem was dead, and I was the only one who could see to that.

  Now that I had energy, I gave the golem a much more thorough examination. This wasn't simply old magic—no, the golem itself was old. Hundreds, maybe even thousands, of years old. I didn't know how it had survived this long; they were supposed to be temporary, but based on the spells, I was sure it was as much of a slave to Ned's will as Burly had been. The only problem was that once the golem had directions, it would keep performing its duty, even after the man giving orders had died or been cut off from magic.

  I might not have been able to make the death rune stay in its skin before, but I could do it now. Forming a layer of energy around the golem, I held it to the ground and kept it in its current shape. When I reached it, I knelt down and used my wand to dig the lines into its forehead.

  It took several seconds for them to sink in, but I never doubted this would work. When the golem turned to dust, I took the energy that had been holding it in one shape and sent it into the earth. The golem-shaped pile of dirt billowed out into an amorphous mound. There was a scroll in the dust. I pocketed it, knowing I would want to research this golem's history later.

  Even though I wanted to, I couldn't face Elron yet. There were still a few things to be done, and I knew that when I went to him and saw how badly he was hurt, I wouldn't be able to focus well enough to finish my job.

  Moving away from the golem's dust, I let down all my shields, sending my power out in a wave. Some surged into Patrick, replacing what he'd lost while helping me.

  With this much energy, I could reach so much farther than I'd ever been able to before. I found the fire truck. It felt like it was only a few feet away when in fact it was much farther than that. It took hardly a second to strip the spells away, leaving what appeared to be a perfectly functional pickup truck, complete with the keys sitting on the front seat.

  With transportation off the mountain taken care of, I worked on spreading my magic out as far as it would reach. Ned had spread snail dust all over this area, and I had to find all of it. It didn't belong here, and I needed to get rid of it before it caused trouble.

  At first I was feeling little pricks of energy everywhere. Occasionally I'd feel something larger, like the compulsion spells he'd hidden throughout the woods or the spell used to make the false path up the mountain. Eventually my power stopped finding the snail dust or any other things he'd done, and I was sure I'd gotten everything. Then I surged power through every compulsion, trap, or fleck of snail powder. Through every single one of them, burning them out and ensuring that no one else would be able to use their magic. A few resisted, having been bonded to Ned, but I simply incinerated them, leaving behind nothing but dust.

  With so much of the energy expended, I felt my power retreating, collapsing upon itself. My skin wasn't burning anymore, but I was tired, so very tired.

  I stumbled over to Elron, pulled the healing charm out of his pocket, activated it, and placed it in his hand. "We can use the fire truck to get home. It's actually a new pickup. There was spell on it, but I removed it. Gudger's dead."

  The entire time he looked at me with wide eyes. "Michelle, that was you? Where did you get all that power?"

  "Stole it," I whispered as I lay down next to him, feeling the bone-deep emptiness that accompanied expending that much power. "May the earth, moon, and sun forgive what I've done."

  There was a surge of earth from the ground beneath my cheek, almost as if I were being given a gentle kiss. A tiny bit of energy trickled into me, and my body started to shut down to preserve what little remaining energy it had. I really hoped that had been a kiss of forgiveness.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Elron

  I watched as the blisters on Michelle's skin faded away, not leaving a mark. Reaching out, I cupped her cheek. No witch, or sorcerer, was meant to hold that much power. The marks on her skin were just one sign of the sheer amount of energy she had contained inside herself. There was a chance she had damaged other parts, ones that allowed her to move and transmute energy, but I could feel what the earth had given to her, and I had to believe that it would not heal her skin simply to leave the rest of her seriously wounded.

  Swallowing hard, I pushed back my worry. This was a time to heal so I could get her to safety and into the hands of a witch who could ensure she was still healthy. The charm she had activated was working so quickly and thoroughly that I suspected she had added to its power while handling it.

  A hint of her normal color returned to her cheeks. I knew she would be asleep, though that was a mild term for this type of rest, for some time, but seeing the color brought me great hope.

  However, I had additional problems. If the officers and Burly were still alive, I would have to do something to assure them that there was no reason to tell anyone just how much power she had used. No good could come of that information leaking out, and I very much doubted it was something she would be able to repeat.

&nb
sp; When we did return home, I would have to do some research. I had never heard of a single witch looking like that. There were videos of groups of witches pooling their power together to great physical manifestations of the energy, but such things were done in a highly controlled manner.

  Sighing, I realized my ribs had healed. I got to my feet and looked around. Michelle seemed to be safe enough, but she had collapsed in front of the door, effectually blocking people from exiting the building. I picked her up and set her in a shady spot.

  There was a shuffle of feet, and I spun around to see Burly coming out of the building. He was cradling his arm but otherwise seemed unharmed. Behind him, Wells came through the door, dragging a handcuffed and unconscious Ned.

  Wells nodded at me. "Good to see that you're looking well."

  "Likewise. I see you captured Ned."

  Wells nodded.

  Clearing my thoughts, I phrased my question carefully. "In a purely theoretical query, do you think justice would be better served by arresting him or killing him?"

  Not one person batted an eye at my question. I presumed most of them were having similar thoughts.

  Wells gave Ned a disgusted look. "In a purely theoretical answer, I'd want him dead. However, in a practical, real-life answer, during all the excitement, something happened to his memory. It seems he has no recollection of how he arrived here, why the snails are here, or much of anything of use."

  From past interaction with Wells, I knew he meant Michelle had done something to him, but he would not admit that to anyone, and it would never show up in an official report.

  Westmoreland stumbled out of the woods, rubbing his head. "What happened?"

  "We got Ned," Wells told him.

  "Michelle is sleeping off the effects of using so much magic," I added.

  "Gudger… we were too late." Wells swallowed hard. "Can you help me move him out here? He'd feel better in nature."

  Patrick nodded, and I trailed after them. I moved part of a table and a chair out of the walkway as I followed them back to Gudger. In the back bedroom, I stood next to Wells and Westmoreland as they looked at the shifter.

  One arm had been broken, but the bruises on his neck told the story of what had killed him. As I looked at the body of a good man who had deserved a better end than this, the medallion cooled against my chest. My vision blurred. I shook my head and cleared my eyes, trying to bring the room back into focus. When I looked around, I could see dark, opaque black energy covering Gudger's body. My eyes flickered to Westmoreland and Wells, who were cloaked in an opaque cloud of almost white. Glancing at my own hand, I found a similar shade.

  Returning my gaze to Gudger, a chill settled into my heart. When Michelle tested energy to see if it was good or evil, the darker it was colored, the worse the energy. Last time she'd found something like this, a demon had been in town. I was reasonably sure Ned was not a demon—he did not have flames in his eyes, and my medallion had not reacted to him. However, Gudger had been killed by something evil, likely another demon who had fed off Gudger's life energy as he died.

  Closing my eyes, I asked the earth to do what she could for Gudger, a brave and good man. The medallion warmed back up to a normal temperature, and when I opened my eyes, my vision had returned to normal. The officers lifted up Gudger's stiff body. I had seen that before and knew that Gudger had died well before we were in any position to rescue him.

  Wells and Westmoreland carried him out of the building, setting him in a shady spot under a towering pine. Minutes passed, and the three of us came to terms with our failed rescue. While I mourned the loss of a good man, I had the very selfish hope that the demon who had killed him would not be targeting Michelle next. It was a faint hope. We had killed a demon, and I had little doubt that its friends would want revenge.

  "We need to get him home, all of us home," Wells said softly.

  Nodding my agreement, I focused on Westmoreland. "Michelle told me the fire truck was actually a regular pickup truck under some spells. They have been removed. Please go get the truck as we won't be able to walk down the mountain."

  "I'll be back soon." Westmoreland glanced at Gudger and Michelle. He headed out, moving at a steady clip. Under normal circumstances, he would not have been my first choice to send into the woods, but Wells had footwear problems, Burly would not fit inside the truck, and I was unwilling to leave Michelle.

  With that taken care of, I addressed another matter that was important to Michelle. "Burly, were you sincere when you said you simply wished to be a law-abiding farmer?"

  He nodded, eyes tired and pain filled. "Yes."

  "Then Michelle and I will do what we can to help you achieve that goal."

  "Thank you, I—" Burly choked up. Unable to say anything, he simply nodded as tears ran down his fur-covered face.

  I gave his shoulder a squeeze and moved on. "Now, could someone please tell me what happened in there?"

  *******

  Wells finished explaining what had occurred inside the building, and I relayed my experiences with the golem. As we spoke, I kept an eye on the minotaur. Burly looked more concerned with each passing minute.

  I finally finished my story and went to sit next to him. "How is your hand?"

  He sniffed it. "I think it's fine. Right before we came out, some magic swept through the building and I healed it, though it still aches."

  "May I look at it?"

  After careful consideration, he held out his hand. The skin looked whole, and I could see the fuzz of new hairs. "I believe it is healing well, but you should have it examined at the hospital."

  He shook his head. "I don't know if I should go with you. They may think I was working with Ned. I don't want to go to jail."

  I frowned, trying to understand why he would think there was any chance he would be going to jail. "You helped us. You were Ned's slave. Why would you think you would be arrested?"

  "That's what happens when you break the law." He spoke softly, as if it hurt to hear the words. "I broke the law and not just when Ned was controlling me."

  "Wells," I snapped. "I need you over here."

  Burly jerked his head up.

  "No. You stay right there. We're going to get this sorted out right now." I had promised him help, and that was what I would do.

  Wells ambled over. "What?"

  I looked him right in the eyes. "Do you have any intention of prosecuting Burly for anything he did while Ned's slave or when he was controlled by previous owners? He says he broke the law as a slave and is afraid he will end up in jail."

  Wells's eyes widened in surprise. "No. I want him— Burly, I want you to have the life you should've had. Did you ever break the law when you weren't obeying your owner's commands?"

  He lowered his eyes and nodded. "I… I've stolen food. I didn't want to, but they didn't always feed me."

  Wells's voice was soft. "Is that it, Burly?"

  "Yes." His voice trembled. "I knew it was wrong, but I was hungry."

  Wells knelt down and put a hand on the minotaur's shoulder. "We have programs to help people like you, ones who've had parts of their life stolen and been denied basic opportunities. We'll find someone to take you in, people we've vetted and trust. You'll get support from other people we trust, and we'll help you make a life for yourself. I can't promise you'll get everything you want, but you'll be free to make your own choices."

  "You have programs? It happens to that many people?"

  Wells pursed his lips and nodded. "It happens to more people than it should. And I'm proud to say I help people like you get a better life."

  Michelle and I had talked about those programs before. She was a strong supporter of them, especially after seeing some of the less friendly parts of our society. "He'll need a place to stay, right?"

  "Yes," Wells said.

  "Michelle, Landa, and I will take him in." I knew both ladies would be in favor of the choice. Burly was a good man. "There's plenty of room at the lodge, and between all of us,
he'll always have someone to come to if he needs some advice."

  Burly looked up at me with big, watery eyes. "You would do that for me?"

  "Yes, and I believe you will be surprised by how many people are willing to give you help. Not everyone is like your owners." In that moment, I knew exactly why Michelle would never give up this job. It was times like this, when she was able to rescue someone from a horrible life, that made every bit of danger and possible death worthwhile. The rumble of an engine distracted me from any further reflection.

  Moments later, Patrick rolled into the clearing, parked, and hopped out. "Sorry it took so long. It's hard to find a path wide enough for this thing, but I did grab the packs. Let's load up and get going."

  Since it had a king cab, we quickly decided that Wells would drive, I would ride shotgun, and Michelle could be set in the backseat. We had to put Burly, Ned, and Gudger in the bed of the truck, and Patrick wanted to sit with Gudger. I put Michelle in the backseat with backpacks placed on the floorboards so she could not fall. Once she was settled, I took the front passenger seat.

  Wells leaned out the window. "Ready?"

  Patrick answered for all of us. "Yes, sir."

  It was a slow trip, but while getting us away from the building, Wells found a narrow trail that had tire ruts. He took that, and before long it deposited us on an old forest service road. Wells had to guess which way to go based on the tire tracks. I could not speak for the rest of the group, but I hoped we had chosen the correct way. The problem with being in an area like this was that while I could give you the straight-line path, I could not tell you which trail would take us to town.

  Wells hit the brakes. I twisted around to check on Michelle, who was still asleep. He needed to be more careful with the three in the back and Michelle. It would be easy to injure them.

  I felt a tickle in my mind, one that was familiar.