by Edison G. S.
Melantha touched her wrinkled hand to his cheek. Then she directed her eyes to the young woman next to him. Her wrinkled face elongated with the impression. “I see you, I see what will come to you,” Melantha said. “It is… something important.”
Melantha turned around and faced the demon that still did not seem to see them or hear them. The witch motioned her hands and the demon blinked as it saw them, as if she had uncovered an invisible blanket. The demon rushed toward the witch, but it disintegrated as Melantha thundered her fingers.
“An easy one, probably a fresh demon,” Melantha said with a wry smile as she began walking toward the fight. With every step she strode, a cloud of young women materialized right behind her.
Samuel cried, knowing his tears meant hope. “They will fight the demons,” he announced while looking at the witches marching.
“No, they cannot. At least not yet. I meant what I said earlier; I want to be turned into one of them.”
“You are not serious.”
“I am,” she said bravely for the first time. “They are feared; if you were raised as powerless as me, you would also want to join them. They will give you the gift of strength, no one will overpower you or force you to do something you do not want to.” Her eyes were beginning to protrude from her face with every intense word she declared.
She was certain of her decision; as she turned away Samuel grabbed her. “You are out of your mind. I will not allow you do this,” he said.
But she fought to free herself from him. She saw the witches walking away and approaching the demons. If they killed the demons, she would never get her revenge. She had to fight for what might be her only chance for redemption.
But Samuel blindsided her and threw a thick cloak over her head and carried her away, screaming, kicking, and furious.
Andreas
His world was turned upside down. The warm, smiling face of Marie was transformed in his thoughts for eternity. All he could visualize was a deathly pale face with an open wound on its neck. Her body fell limp on the floor, empty of the liquid that gave her life... Andreas stood in silence; his limbs were like stone towers keeping his body erect while his soul was shattered, once again. He lowered his head and seemed to lose height. Marie had been a source of strength for him, but he could not protect her. Ha had lost so much; he felt no longer as a leader. What once was a brave, tall man was reduced to a frightened being void of all he had.
His eyes were embedded in sorrow, awaiting the moment his body gave in and he, too, would meet his death; that is until he looked at Anthony. His gaze turned sharp and seething. His breathing accelerated as he watched his former brother and best friend laughed manically.
“How does it feel? Are you in pain? It is what you deserve, what you have deserved since you became Sub-Commander.”
The desire of tearing Anthony apart intensified. In those few seconds, he imagined a hundred possible scenarios in which he took Anthony’s life. “She was your sister!” he roared after the long silence, tears running down his face.
“Sister?” Anthony mocked. “My brothers and sisters are behind me,” he motioned his hand around the demons nearby. Kazar and his children stood in silence watching the scene with a pleasant smile.
“You were brainwashed and look what you did,” Andreas screamed while looking down at his wife’s body, but he had to turn his head in disgust after a few seconds.
“My eyes were opened. You should join our side. You have no idea how this feels. It is like…there is no limit,” he said with a spark in his eyes.
Andreas looked at him with narrowing eyes, trying to find logic behind his words.
“The strength I feel now is liberating. I am free of my human ties,” Anthony smiled, showing his teeth stained with the blood of his once beloved sister.
“Kill him,” Kazar finally commanded and Anthony sprinted toward his former friend.
Andreas threw himself to the floor and grabbed an iron sword nearby. The demon in front of him may look like Anthony, but there was no semblance of his former brother in the figure before him. Andreas knew he had one resolution left—Kill him.
“You are not free; you are a minion, a spawn,” he roared ferociously. Anthony ignored him; he was looking for a chance to disarm Andreas with the sword he lifted and then feed from his warm blood.
Anthony charged ahead and the two swords clanked into each other. As they stood with swords crossed against one another, their vexing eyes met and rage surged within them. Andreas was the first to push forward and take a swipe with his blade, but the demon bolted up in the air, landing behind Andreas who had to quickly about-face. Andreas was fast with the sword, but his former friend was very adept as well.
Every hit with the sword intensified Andreas’ animosity. His hatred mounted, as did his strength. It did not take long for Andreas to realize Anthony’s demonic strength had not fully developed yet. Books claim that demons develop their strength over time with the influx of fresh blood they consume; however, it seemed Anthony only recently turned and was not at his full potential yet.
Andreas imagined Anthony was kept in a hideous cage. Demons would feed from him daily, leaving enough blood for him to recover. He was gaunt and his neck and arms were scarred with teeth marks, which Andreas noticed as they fought. Anthony was much thinner than before; it was common knowledge that prisoners in the dungeons were fed only rats until they were turned.
Kazar had called Andreas by name; Anthony was most likely tortured to reveal his leader, the one that killed Alar. The day he confessed, Kazar probably released Anthony from his pain to be used for this vengeful plan.
Andreas was winning the battle. He and Anthony were staggering through the streets of town, swords swinging and clanking as each tried with all his might and will to slaughter the other.
“You were always the leader,” moaned Anthony while pushing Andreas to the ground. “Always the great warrior, directing everybody as if it were a chess game.” Anthony bashed on Andreas’ sword, knocking it out of his hand and onto the ground. He threw down his sword as well, not needing it to feed from Andreas. Barehanded, Anthony propelled himself toward Andreas. Both men were armed only with resentment and anger. Anthony tried to bite Andreas’ neck, but was pushed away with the brute strength of an ox. Andreas raced to grab his sword and fell to the ground. Anthony rose and lifted up Andreas, throwing him into a pile of dead bodies.
Andreas moaned in pain, but ignored the suffering. Getting up, he glared at Anthony and protested, “I gave you power and a roof. I gave you friendship!” Even though he knew Anthony was now a minion, he still felt betrayed.
“You will also give away your only chance of victory,” Anthony replied, moving closer to Andreas and reaching for something on his belt. Anthony grabbed the dagger that killed Alar and with both hands and some work crushed it to pieces. The golden dust spread with the wind as Andreas realized he lost his most powerful tool.
“The only thing I want from you is your dead body to drink from. I always wanted your position, to be a leader and now I have the strength to do it,” Anthony proclaimed. At the same time, they each seized a sword discarded on the ground next the bodies of the dead soldiers.
Andreas understood his childhood friend was changed forever. If Andreas did not kill Anthony, he would kill Andreas, just as he did to his own sister. Tears slipped down Andreas’ cheek as their swords met under the moonlight that was slowly disappearing as the sun was ready to peek over the horizon. “She was your sister!” he roared.
Anthony threw his head back, once again bellowing at the hominid concept. This gave Andreas enough time to lunge forward, his sword piercing Anthony in the gut. The demon roared in pain as Andreas pulled his sword out of his body.
Anthony cackled loudly, “You see, we have no limits. Even death fears us,” he gurgled as he spit blood out of his mouth. Andreas knew he must end Anthony’s life. With one strong, quick thrust, he jabbed the sword of his fallen countryman through Anthony’
s cold, demonic heart.
When the other demons jumped towards Andreas to stop him, their master waved at them to halt. Kazar enjoyed watching Andreas kill his best friend.
Andreas lay on the ground with Anthony’s body in his arms. The body started decomposing and the dark dust was taken with the wind. It was uncertain if Anthony died from touching the blade of the magic dagger or because Andreas put his sword through his only vital organ.
But for Andreas, it did not matter. He did not feel satisfied or that he had avenged Marie at all; he felt pity for what Anthony was forced to become and so killing him was to release him from the hideous manipulation placed upon him. Regardless, Andreas felt responsible for the deaths of his loved ones. If he wanted revenge for Darcellene, Marie, and now Anthony, he had to defeat Kazar.
Soldiers roared at his victory, but Andreas could not share their happiness. Kazar was playing a game and his wife and best friend were the prize for the winner-—Kazar.
Andreas looked at Kazar; the sly grin upon his blue lips told Andreas he was being punished for taking Alar’s life.
Since the beginning, Anthony was a pawn in the game, a game to make Andreas pay.
Melantha
She saw the entire tragedy before it even occurred. With sorrow, she walked to meet the demons; she knew her mission and was ready to meet her destiny. She and Ester were the last two witches of the order of the seven; all the others were long dead. Nonetheless, some had already been reborn in younger bodies, but for some, their powers had not manifested yet.. The two witches knew there was no future for The Land of The Men if they did not act on it.
“Why can’t we change the course of events?” Melantha had asked the leader of the order once before she passed.
She had answered, “Because terrible things will happen. You do not want the Death to become riled for if you do, you may pay with your life or the lives of those you love.”
But Melantha and Ester disobeyed and effected the course of life; now Ester was dead and soon Melantha would meet the same destiny.
But she knew the best thing to do for everyone involved. She would be selfless and pay the ultimate price instead of allowing horrible things to worsen.
“You must protect them,” she told Ester one afternoon.
Ester almost fell to the floor after hearing her sister’s voice in her thoughts. With tears she had said, “Thank you for contacting me again. It has been so many years now.”
But the greetings did not last long. Melantha told her directly, “Something monumental is coming.”
The Witch of Foresight had a hectic mind trying to isolate her own thoughts from her premonitions. Sometimes they mixed, but this time she saw it clearly and knew she must contact her sister, Ester. The Witch of Protection was unique in that she could protect absolutely anybody or anything from something, or someone, else.
“If we break the cycle, we will pay with our life,” Ester answered when Melantha told her about three individuals needing protection in order to live.
“We have lived long enough. It is worthy to die now, especially when your nephew, the next Master of the Order, is in need of protection,” Melantha tried to convince her.
Ester’s weak heart demanded so much of her and she almost fainted. “It cannot be true. The master has been born already?” They both were aware of the prophecy that the order would have a male master and that he would return to the order the powerful status it deserved.
“Yes,” Melantha replied, “and the demons will try to take him. You need to protect him, not matter how many lives will be sacrificed.”
Ester agreed with deep sorrow. Her mind became flooded with the thoughts of her sister, Holga, who was about to suffer along with other innocent children, but it was necessary for the boy to live. As for the other two people she had to protect, she barely understood anything. “Why would you want me to protect that man? What is he going to do? What about the young woman?”
The memories of their conversation dissipated as Melantha positioned herself in front of Kazar.
Andreas stood with the remaining dust of his friend at his feet, but quickly moved in front of Melantha to protect the witch.
The demon moved his eyes from Andreas down to Melantha’s wrinkled face.
She stood tall and proud and stared fiercely back at her enemy.
Omar
Alice and her family were kind enough to allow Omar to accompany them on their journey. The boy felt befuddled with thoughts of what his life would be like. Would he have to board strange ships for the rest of his life? He had no family left, what else could he do? Where could he go?
Alice’s family had been quick to start their journey. The distance from the Desert to the Forest was four times farther than the distance from the Forest to the Frozen Land. When he came to the Forest he entered through the Eastern border, the city of Camel, thousands of miles away from the Desert land in which he was born.
Now, his journey started in the other extreme of the Forest of Dragons through the Western exit, the city of Peare, via an artificial, wooden port created many years ago. The area was full of cliffs and unstable soil, making it difficult for ships to access the land; an elongated port that extended into the cold sea was built for better access and shorter travel time.
It occurred to him that if he was born in the Frozen Land, it would have taken less than a week to reach Ester’s house and his brother and mother may still have been alive; however, Ester said they died in his place. The reality of that thought sent chills throughout his body and he pushed the idea away.
They departed before sunlight and arrived in Peare by nightfall. The city was attacked often, so it was concerning to Omar how naïve the men were to be outside at night. He had looked at the medal his aunt gave him—protection., He was unsure if it was true; his aunt may have been out of her wits. After all, he neither felt differently nor had shown any power.
While riding through Peare, he wanted to throw the medal away; what if my aunt was right and it is for protection? He would keep it even if only to avoid risks for the amiable family with which he travelled.
* * *
The same night they reached Peare, they departed for Marli by ship. He was on his way to the Frozen Land and he coveted something powerful. For some reason, he felt he needed to go to the Frozen Land. He sensed magic was in use and his true nature ached to be there, no matter how much he denied it
Looking at the water, he considered again throwing the medallion away and forgetting all about it. Fiddling with it in his hand, he noticed the sigil of the Forest of Dragons on it—a dragonhead over a forest. As he turned it in his hand, he felt safe, guarded. It was unwise to discard it, he could feel it, but he hardly accepted it. On the other side of the medal he found the writing in the old tongue and wondered what it meant.
“You should come inside,” Alice said from behind him.
Omar observed the water a second before turning to her. A cold wind had started to blow and he could not bear being out on the deck much longer. However, he felt foreign on the ship, especially inside. The feeling had not subsided the entire journey on land from Cadeno to Peare. The space in the cart was so small and crowded he inevitably felt he was stealing space from the family.
“I was just looking at the water,” he answered indifferently. The ship was much smaller than the merchant ships he saw months before. This particular ship was meant for fishing; he could tell by the smell. But the owner was extremely selfless; he always filled the small ship with food of every kind and rushed to the Frozen Land to distribute it to those in need.
“Don’t be silly,” the girl answered. “There is not much to watch other than water. Besides it is pitch dark. I am not sure you have seen it before though. I can tell from your dry accent that you are from the Desert.” She looked down at the floorboards and asked, “Was your mother from there, too?”
He nodded without looking at her. “She lived there, but she grew up in the Forest.” He paused before
asking her, “Where is your mother?”
“She was killed by demons a while ago.”
Omar turned abruptly to face her. She continued, “She was from the Royal Waters, from the island of Lovos. But she moved to the Forest with my father after they married.” Omar finally understood where her golden hair came from. The girl continued talking. “After we were born, she went to visit her parents in Lovos and she never returned, nor the ship.”
She was silent. Omar explained, “My mother was also killed by demons. Actually, demons and witches.” He suddenly realized he had said too much.
“Witches!” she exclaimed. “There are no more witches. Not in the Desert, only in the Forest.”
“What do you mean?” he asked, hoping to finally have an answer to what Ester said. “There are witches in the Forest?”
“Well, not really. There used to be witches in Cadeno. There is a very old house over there. No one is living there, but it used to be the house of the order a long time ago.” Omar’s jaw dropped. She continued. “A lady moved in a while ago, long after the witches were gone. I think the lady there was just the new owner of the place. Nobody ever saw her doing magic or witchcraft. People used to throw stones at the house and at the old woman that lived there. One day, she disappeared and nobody ever threw a rock again. Nobody ever dared to step inside and see where the woman was. But people still walk by the house with hateful stares. And some claim they hear the woman inside chanting even though the house seems empty and dark inside.”
Omar remembered how people gave hideous looks when they walked by Aunt Ester’s house.. “Nobody could see her then?” He just realized his aunt created a spell not to be seen. Now he wondered if the people that looked at him where actually looking at an empty window. Were we all invisible inside that house? He had a hard time admitting the truth, but plainly, he was a wizard and. Ester and his mother were witches.