Males weren’t unappreciated. They were cared for and loved for the helpmeets they were. Every female witch lived for the day she would join her perfect mate. Every witch looked for a mate but Roxen for she knew it could go terribly wrong as easily as right.
Now this little witch, and Roxen had no doubt she was a witch, was in sitting on her bed looking at her with huge blue eyes that had seen more than anyone should have in the face of a small child. “Are you an initiate yet?” she asked quietly. The little girl nodded solemnly.
That was good because it meant she was already well into her healers training. All witches began that training about the age of five. It was somewhere between the age of ten and fourteen that those selected to be novices were separated to begin specialized training. There was a knock on the door and the guards brought in a small bed to put near hers. She began training the young one the next day and she felt certain she’d been sent to her in place of the child she’d never have since she never planned to pair off with a man.
The girl was smart and learned well. At first the learning was mainly what you should never do. Never harm anyone through your actions. Never use dark or black magic. Never use magic frivolously. Never cast a spell that removes free will. The rules were many and they were drilled into novices over and over again. Once she was sure the child understood, she moved on to basic spells. They were simple, took little power to cast but they were more for practice. They never moved past the beginning.
She’d never forget the day it happened. Axla had chores to do in the castle to earn her keep set by the steward. She’d thought nothing of it since Knorris was cheap and would want her to work while she learned. She was going to the kitchen, the guard accompanied her everywhere. She heard a high pitched scream and ran with the guard on her heels. The steward was in top of Axla who he’d forced to the floor and he was attempting to undress her.
The guard moved before she had a chance pulling the sweaty, smelling overweight man off the small girl. The girl ran into her arms tears running down her cheeks. “Has he done this before?” she asked.
“He’s tried but he’s never caught me before,” Axla whispered.
She looked at the steward already pale and shaking from the look the guard gave him. “Touch her again and you’ll spend the rest of your life as a mouse. It’s a far better life than you deserve,” she observed.
He cried and broke down swearing never to touch the child again. She didn’t believe him because she’d heard of men like that. They never stopped and he never would. She would have to find a permanent solution. It came sooner than she expected.
There was a knock on the door and a guard took her to Knorris. He wanted to know why his King was visiting him. It was his guilty conscience borrowing trouble. The second the collar was removed, she sent the child to Knorris’ worst enemy. The child was young enough he’d keep her safe from others and not bother her himself. The general had a code and he’d find a family for the girl. She had no doubt that he would.
The king’s visit was simply to call for more support in the war against the east. No insidious purpose or suspicions had brought it about. Knorris was relieved until a guard came and told him Axla had disappeared. It was the same guard that had been with her when the steward had attacked the girl. Knorris immediately assumed he’d taken her and he was hunted down. In their zeal to capture him, he was killed and the girl was never found. Even for such a man as that, his death brought her no small amount of guilt. She hoped the goddess would forgive her in time.
She must have fallen asleep because when she woke she was pressed up against a manly body. His arm was wrapped around her and his leg thrown over her. She couldn’t move without waking him yet she couldn’t countenance staying where she was. The heat from his body sank into her skin lighting her up from within. His warm and clean masculine scent rolled over her seducing her to remain where she was. Panic broke out within her, she had to get away.
“Who are you, my beauty? And most importantly, why are you in my bed?” a masculine voice rumbled. She turned looking into the brightest green eyes she’d ever seen. His eyes were sharp and they missed nothing.
“The one who saved you from a trip to the other side. Pray remove your arm and leg from me!” she requested forcefully.
He smiled and it made the handsome man downright beautiful. He moved his leg but kept his arm in place. “I fear if I let you go you’ll disappear like a dream,” he admitted.
She didn’t like the way he made her feel. This was an honorable man in every way except his dealings with women. She needed to keep that in mind. “I’ll not disappear but I have no intention of staying with you,” she challenged. “I’m not your type of woman.”
“Ah, my wicked ways are greatly exaggerated,” he claimed.
“That might work on some, but I don’t believe it,” she insisted.
“You wound my heart,” he said as he clutched his chest as if in pain.
She tried not to be taken in by his lighthearted and charming ways. “I’ll not be fooled by a womanizer,” she declared.
He chuckled. “I see you’re a hard one to charm. If you have no interest in me, what are you doing in my bed?” he challenged.
“I asked to be allowed another place to sleep, but they refused me. It appears I’m a prisoner here,” she said.
A serious look came over his face and he stared at her intently. “Who are you?” he asked his voice a whisper.
Chapter Three
The Knorris
His face turned a purple read and he felt like it might explode. The little upstart soldier acting as the temporary commander had hinted with great amusement that Roxen lay with the general. It was unacceptable that the woman he’d wanted, the one that didn’t seem to want him, would jump in bed with a libertine such as the general. The witch should have been his! Not only was this a big punch in the gut personally, but the general had just acquired a weapon of indescribable power. She might be unable to cause direct harm, but what she could do would still create chaos in his army.
He was no fool. He knew the wench hated him and that was why he tried to find ways to either engage another to do what she could do, or end this war so he could claim his prize. If he ever got her back he thought he’d just bed the witch and forego using her magic. Had he done so to begin with, he’d not be shaking in his shoes fearing she’d be loosed upon him and his. He knew she’d held back when he’d given her tasks. He’d let her get by with it in the hopes she’d come to feel something for him besides the hate and disgust he saw in her eyes.
He wasn’t in love. The witch was gorgeous, easily the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. He wanted to sate his body with hers. He also had a perverse desire to tarnish that beautiful light of hers. She wasn’t the only one who could see auras but his powers were so small she couldn’t even sense them. A good person had a gold aura. It was only a nearly perfect person, one so lost in sickening goodness that they loved and tried to help others that had that horrid bright white light shining around them. It was actually usual for her kind and he detested it. It made him nauseous at the very sight of it.
His own aura was a lovely dark color. It was beautifully muddied, a reflection of the dark power he held. His plans had just received a serious setback and he was greatly displeased. He looked about for someone to vent his ire on. It was the right of a leader to release his anger on anyone he chose. Now if he could just choose someone. Ah yes, there was an old man who had seen better days. He’d not be missed in his sad condition. He called his guard near and pointed out the old man.
“Bring him to me,” he demanded.
The guard had no choice but to comply but he acted slowly and with gentleness and pity when he pulled the old man to him. He took note of the guard. He had no place in his army for a bleeding heart sympathizer. He wanted his men hard and without empathy for his chosen victims. He dispatched the old one with a stab to his heart. He should have removed his head so it would have looked more impre
ssive. He only felt slightly better but he saw a dancing girl hanging around at the edge of the crowd. He’d have her dance and then he’d have her. He’d show her his strength and his dominance. She wouldn’t be glad she’d come but he didn’t care. He was in charge and it was all about him.
He had a guard bring her to his rooms where he leaned back on a pillow with a goblet wine in one hand and a smoked leg in the other. He tore a large bite of meat from the bone and washed it down with wine. He had other foods laid out around him including the tastiest pastries and the freshest and most exotic fruits. Anything he desired would be brought to him and he would have granted that goody-goody witch the same wealth and power. Nothing he’d done had impressed her. He was just surrounded by ungrateful people with no appreciation for what he offered them. He watched the dancer sway and turn, she wasn’t bad but she wasn’t his witch and she would have to be punished for that but not until after she entertained and pleased him. Sometimes when punishment came first, they didn’t survive it.
“My Lord,” someone whispered and he looked up. He’d fallen asleep while the girl had danced and she’d escaped him.
He looked up at his servant his eyes blinking to see. “Yes?” he asked.
“You have a message,” the servant said.
He was an older man, no fun would be had there and he needed some relief. “Give it to me,” he demanded churlishly. Why didn’t they just hand him the message? All his servants were incompetent. He grabbed it angrily. He opened it and read it. He’s forgotten his spy in the enemy camp. He might be able to recover the witch and all would not be lost. “Get me parchment, a quill and ink. Move it before I stab you!” he directed. Hope was a wonderful thing.
The servant rushed back with all he needed and he balanced the parchment on a pillow and wrote out his missive. He encouraged his spy to get the witch and bring her back for a large final reward. It would be worth losing the spy to get her back. He tried not to delve too deeply into his obsession with the witch. He just needed her back now. He handed the message to his servant who would hand it off to the messenger. He felt better now that he had a chance to get her back. His work done for now he leaned back and slept some more.
His mind seemed to want to go back to the beginning. No, not his birth, but when he started on his journey to claim the power he deserved. He was five and ten years in this world and had learned to make connections with those that got things done. The oldest son of a lord, he was in a hurry to take his place in the seat of power. He didn’t know why he was so ambition or why he was willing to do whatever was required as a means to his desired end. He’d heard cruel people were unloved as children but that hadn’t been the case with him. His mother had loved him a great deal and his father had been doting to the point where many saw it as a weakness. Maybe the problem had been he was too loved and he felt he deserved whatever he wanted immediately.
He’d regretted his action later, but it had been past the point that he could undo them. He wanted to be lord yesterday but his father was in his way. The quickest way to get what he wanted was to remove the obstacle. His father had been ill but he was starting to recover. That would never do. Knorris sat with him until he fell asleep and then he got up, grabbed an extra pillow, placed it over his father’s face, and smothered him until he was dead. It had seemed the most expedient thing to do. Now he was the head of the family. His mother was still an attractive woman having had her children young. He married her off to a man he in order to form an alliance. She’d cried pitifully but he needed to form connections and the man wanted her now. It didn’t matter that his father hadn’t been in the ground a season.
He’d had a sister two and ten years that he’d married off too. This one was to a wealthy merchant who paid a bride price. He needed money more than another mouth to feed. His sister was already married to the king but she’d turned cold on him not liking his decisions. Too bad for her, her position helped him anyway with those who just assumed he had influence. A younger brother was sold to a priest, though why he wanted him had at the time been a mystery. He’d figured it out later because he learned more about human nature as he grew in to his position as lord.
His one regret was that he’d not had a bigger family. A person could never have enough connections or wealth. He’d done well for himself but sometimes he missed having someone to trust. He wondered what it might be to have someone that cared more about him than anything else. It was simply not to be because of the choices he’d made in his life. He might delay in taking control, but he would do the same things again if he had a second chance.
He was wealthy, strong, respected, and even feared and he loved it. His life would be perfect again once his spy brought back the witch. He needed her with him for his plan to move forward. He’d found a seer, one of the few that would work for a man like him. Most of those with magic were pure and clean like Roxen, but not this witch. Her aura was nearly as dark as his.
“Tell me Witch what I must do to reach my goals?” he looked into her black eyes and felt a kindred spirit. She was like him, so much so that he’d never turn his back on her. He would never trust anything she said if he didn’t double check it.
“I see you wish to be King and then move higher still. It is possible for one with you dedication and aggressiveness. You’ve done well for yourself but you are stuck unable to move higher,” she observed.
“Yes, I know that. I need you to tell me what I must do to get past this,” he snapped impatiently. Damn that woman, he had no time to waste.
“I have you’re answer,” she cackled. “You need a witch.”
“I have a damn witch. Is that not what you are?” he grumbled.
“Yes, but you need a witch of your own. Not just any witch but a young , beautiful, and powerful one,” she advised.
“How to you propose I get this paragon of virtue and power?” he asked sarcastically.
“You steal her. Is that not your way?” she asked.
Well, yes, that was his way and that go his mind to moving so fast he was dizzy. “Is there a witch I should look for?” he wondered.
She smiled encouragingly. “Now you are thinking like a king,” she murmured approvingly. “In a small village south of here called Dorchest, there lives a witch named Roxen. She is everything you should need. Once you capture her, you’ll need a collar and I can make you one for a price.”
Now he was beginning to understand. The witch wanted a competitor removed and she saw a way to make money from it. That was something he could respect. “So how much will this collar cost me?”
The witch cackled again. “I’ll give you a bargain since I like you. The nicer collars cost more so it all depends on you. You should visit her first to make sure that she’s all I’ve told you.”
He took that to mean she knew he always checked up on her and he always would. With her instructions on where to find his own witch, he headed off to the nearby town the next morning. He was excited and anxious, but he never let his show. He sat in a carriage pulled by small hostees that stood on four legs at about half his height. He traveled to the small town where he easily found his witch. He liked the thought of having a witch at his beck and call. He liked the idea more once he made his way into the small shop she ran. She was breath taking. Her light blonde hair and blue eyes when with a pale complexion. Her body was mouthwatering and he could hardly wait to enjoy her.
She looked at him and froze, shock and a little fear showing on her face. “I don’t have anything for you,” she said softly.
He knew what she meant, no good little witch would use her skills to benefit him. He smiled, the smile of a predator and he saw she shivered. She should be very scared because when next they met she would be at his mercy and he didn’t have any. He turned and left, his mission complete. He wanted her and he would move forward. One more meeting with the witch who was helping him where they negotiated the cost of her information, her help, and the cost of the collar, the best one money could buy.
> “Tell me, Witch, how do you get near them when your aura is dark? When they see it don’t they run you off?” he asked
“Who says I let my true aura show? What ‘s the point in magic if you can’t hide what you don’t want seen?” she asked smugly.
He’d thought about asking her to hide his aura, but why? His witch had already seen it and he just killed or captured those he needed. Few people could see an aura anyway and the collar had cost him a lot. He just turned and walked away, their business concluded. She had done as she’d agreed and his witch was delivered the next day. He’d had a room prepared and inside him excitement soared. He had been disappointed that she couldn’t kill or even harm. He’d looked for the witch he’d made the deal with to see if it was true, but he’d never seen her again.
Her absence made him believe it was true. He thought she feared he’d want his money back. She must have left the area because even the many men he’d sent out to find her came back empty handed. After a time, he gave up and just assumed Roxen was limited in what she could do. He handled that as well as he could. He found her a little witch to train and she disappeared. In retrospect, it was odd so many things happened around Roxen but she could do no magic with the collar on so it couldn’t be her. He worried that he had a spy or a traitor so he’d switched his personal guards. That had happened just before Roxen was taken and now he worried he’d made a mistake. It was tough to be in charge of so many. It was a good thing he was strong and willing to make the hard decisions, regardless of who they hurt.
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