The Witch (Dragon Eyes Book 1)

by Kristina Hlaváčková

  “Mount! Now!” Michael did not even protest, blindly scrambling into his saddle. Nor did he resist when she grabbed Kran’s reins and jumped into Ashkent’s saddle. The horse sensed what was behind him and started on without any kind of prompt. With murderous speed Elena steered them along the narrow winding path. Desperately holding to his saddle with one hand, Michael drew one of his swords with the other. He had no idea what they were running from, but it could not have been anything good. Their pursuers were gathering speed. It was a mad race. When you realize there were two horses stampeding blindly, guided by someone who was looking at the world through somebody else’s eyes, it was a miracle they didn’t break their necks.

  Both horses, especially the wounded Kran, were tiring quickly, losing their speed. The distance between the pray and its pursuers was lessening rapidly. Michael could feel Kran loitering on more and more laboriously and began praying to all the gods he knew. And then he saw it. At least he thought he saw it, twilight. Far away in front of them, black darkness changed into gloom. Hurling down an invisible path, he began to recognize the silhouettes of Ashkent and Elena almost lying on her horse’s neck.

  Kran quickened and lengthened his stride, as much as his failing strength permitted. Like two cannonballs the two steeds shot out of Black Wood into the night which looked like a gloomy day compared to the utter darkness from which they came. Rain was pouring down on them from the sky. Elena pushed them on. The beasts were closing in. Kran stumbled and fell, catapulting Michael out of the saddle. His reins tore out of Elena’s hand. She had no time to let go of them, Kran pulled her backwards off Ashkent’s saddle, landing her flat on her back in mud. The impact knocked the air out of her, but there was no time for that. Rolling into a crouch, she pushed off the ground, and jumped over Kran who was desperately trying to get up. A whole pack of toothy monsters plunged towards them. It crossed her mind that if she was not far enough from the Wood, she was going to die, but she simply had to do something. Her hands flashed forward, shooting fireballs. Two gigantic monkeys with doglike heads fell. An avalanche of those following them ran over them. An almost continuous row of fireballs darted out of Elena’s palms. Immediately, the air was saturated with static energy, din, burned fur and meat. More and more predators advanced over a growing pile of their fallen fellows.

  Suddenly they turned and disappeared into the Wood. For quite some time, Elena remained kneeling with her hands raised, prepared for yet another ambush attack. None came. Elena ran to Michael, who got to his feet laboriously, and managed to pull Kran up. Both were shaking all over and bleeding heavily. Elena gave them just one look to make sure they were fit enough to stand upright, grabbed Ashkent’s reins and ran away from the edge of the Black Wood. Stumbling, Michael followed. Often turning to look over her shoulder, Elena tried not to fall. Her feet were slipping. Michael lagged behind, but she made him hobble on. After a few very long minutes, when the outline of the Wood was well out of sight, Michael stumbled, yelped and fell. Elena stopped, turning to him. The boy lay as he landed, breathing hard. Kran, happy he did not have to move anymore, stood on shaking legs, his head hanging, tongue sticking out.

  Elena kneeled beside her friend. She couldn’t see it in the dark and rain, but his back was drenched in blood. Far too much blood. He tried to push up onto all fours, but lacked the strength to do it. Elena’s heart was beating all the way up her throat, her temples throbbed, and it was difficult to draw breath. Later on, she was unable to remember what happened in the few following hours.

  Michael’s wounds healed by her magic, she let him lie as he was and moved to take care of Kran. This was not an easy task, since Kran was a big steed and she had never healed a horse before. Somehow, she had managed, though not as well as she would have liked. That done, she checked on Ashkent, who also had quite a number of ugly looking wounds. She healed those too.

  Her strength was failing her. The adrenalin that had pushed her on till now began to wear off, leaving her with heavy muscles that made it quite an ordeal to even move, nonetheless do something. Michael was unconscious. Elena grabbed him under his arms and with the last of her strength dragged him under a huge tree. In her opinion, they were too close to Black Wood, but she was getting weak and there was nothing she could do about it. She covered Michael with a sheet of canvas. Kran and Ashkent slowly moved to be close to her. Afraid that they might have to leave in a hurry, Elena left their saddles on their backs, simply loosening their saddle straps to offer them at least some comfort. With quite an effort, she tried to build some kind of a shelter for them and managed only partially. She had to stay on guard. They were too close to Black Wood!

  ◆◆◆

  Michael opened his eyes. His whole body hurt and he was shivering with cold. He was hungry. Someone had pulled a blanket and canvas sheet over him. It was raining. For a moment, he lay motionless, trying to figure out where he was and how he got there. Silence surrounded him, broken only by the sounds of dripping water. He scrambled out from under the canvas and found a crude inclined shelter above his head. He noticed the remains of a fire under the interwoven branches, a few live coals still in the ashes, hissing from time to time, when a raindrop fell on them. Elena was sitting with her back to a tree, her knees under her chin. Only partially under the shelter, draped in canvas, a sword in her hand. She was asleep. Michael touched her shoulder gently. She panicked, moving so fast she nearly chopped his head off.

  “Wow, easy, kid!” he exclaimed. Elena blinked at him with tired eyes and slowly tucked her sword away.

  “How are you feeling?” she asked, rubbing her eyes.

  “Considering what happened, right as rain. No pun intended. How about ya’?”

  “Hmpf,” she mumbled. Though her coat was waterproof, her trouser-legs and hair were drenched and most of her clothes wet, and she was cold. Her movements were stiff and slow. In her mind she thanked the gods nothing had happened at night. Aaron would have eaten her alive had he known she fell asleep on guard. And he would have been right to do so. It was a miracle they were not killed in their sleep by … those guys, whatever they were.

  Elena looked up at her friend.

  “Thanks,” she murmured and Michael smiled at her.

  “We’re even, but next time, we go around,” he waged a finger at her and she laughed. It sounded almost merry.

  ◆◆◆

  Philip read Elena’s last letter for about the hundredth time. Her narration radiated her excitement of all the fighting techniques and healing skills she was learning, how much she had already found out about herbs and other things. She took great pleasure in describing people, her teachers, secret places she had discovered, the beauty of her surroundings. All her letters detailed what lessons she enjoyed and which she was not very good at. He could sense she was not telling him everything, but he was used to that by now. As far as he was concerned, everything was fine as far as she wrote those letters, even though she never described the city she was in, and consistently left out information about important landmarks. He had no clue about her whereabouts. Considering the fact that most likely she would have told him if she could, he did not ask. There would be no answer anyway, since she probably thought it a better solution than an outright lie. Her letters were amusing. They reminded him of their conversations. He missed her companionship. Since she left, no one was inclined to participate in any kind of fun or mischief, nobody was willing to come up with silly pranks, nor happily be their target. Philip missed Elena’s laughter and her understanding presence. He had no one to talk to, no one to share laughter or worries with. Peter was far too serious and Dars was … Well, Dars was simply Dars.

  Philip was worried. No new letters had arrived for quite some time. Something was wrong. Why had no one noticed that Elena stopped writing? Up until now, her letters had arrived like clockwork. Something had to be done about it! It would be unbearable if something should happen to his little sis. There was only one person who really knew where Elena was: Ashka.

/>   The Queen lifted her eyes from the papers she was going through and gave him a severe and slightly worried look.

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “Something must have happened. There’s never been such a long pause between her letters before. It’s impossible for messengers to be that slow. For us to get no news for such a long time, several messengers would have to have been killed. And that is unlikely.” Philip answered. Ashka was silent, watching him, trying to judge how much her son had guessed.

  “I’m sure there is a reasonable explanation,” she tried to disperse his concern.

  “Really? What would it be, pray! Doesn’t it worry you?”

  “There must be a logical reason,” Ashka repeated.

  “Like something happening to her?” He was impertinent and knew it, but did not care. Mother’s indifference made him furious. Ashka raised her eyebrows. To be honest, until now, she had not given it a thought that something might have gone astray. She simply expected Elena was too busy with her studies to write letters home. However, Philip’s questions had her worried. What if he was right? Not that she would have admitted it to him.

  “I will try to find out what is happening,” she attempted to reassure him. The result was, however, the opposite. Though he was glad something would be done, he took Mother’s answer as admission that something was indeed wrong. This, Ashka noticed.

  “I am sure there is no need to be concerned, though. Will you write Elena a letter?” Ashka tried to mollify him and Philip surprised her by pulling a finished letter from his pocket.

  “Let me know what you find out,” the boy pleaded in an almost polite tone of voice, then turned on his heal and walked out of the room.

  ◆◆◆

  Alivan folded the letter and put it down. This whole situation was giving her a headache. Had it been up to her, she would have left the little snake to her own devices, good riddance, anyway. But there was Ashrack. The fact that Elena’s mother had begun to make inquiries did not help matters either. She should have never allowed the girl to write so many letters.

  “YOU MUST FIND HER!” Ashrack boomed inside her mind.

  “It is a vain search. The forest must have devoured her by now,” Alivan protested tiredly.

  “YOU CANNOT BE SURE.”

  “She is but a small child.”

  “A CHILD WHO ESCAPED YOUR CITY. A CHILD WHO HAS DODGED YOUR MEN FOR MORE THAN TWO MONTHS.”

  “Probably because she is alive no more,” said Alivan impatiently.

  “THEN I WANT TO SEE HER BODY,” Ashrack barked inside her head. Alivan was silent. Both children had vanished like smoke in thin air. Her people had more important things to do than run around the forest looking for a naughty child whose survival was now far from likely.

  “THE PROPHECY IS CLEAR. SHE WILL BE THE GRAIN OF SAND THAT CHANGES THE DESTINY OF ALL THE KÉRALA NATIONS. WE MUST FIND HER.”

  ”You cannot be certain she is the prophecy child.”

  This time it was Ashrack, who remained silent. They had discussed the matter at hand far too many times and Alivan’s persistent opposition irritated him.

  “Then I assume the dragons are also looking for her,” she spat virulently, losing her patience with the dragon King. From the moment her grandniece was in the picture, Ashrack had begun to intervene with matters that should concern only elves.

  “SHE IS THE BLOOD OF YOUR BLOOD, YOU MUST REMEMBER THAT.” Ashrack ignored her impertinent comment. Alivan refused to answer and Ashrack waited.

  “What shall we tell her mother?” She felt him shrugged his huge shoulders.

  “THE TRUTH?” Inside her head, the tone of Ashrack’s voice indicated that this was none of his concern.

  “She is not likely to appreciate us having lost her child in a forest hardly any mortal can survive in.”

  “THIS IS, WHY YOU HAVE TO EMPHASIZE THAT WE ARE STILL LOOKING FOR THE GIRL.”

  And that was basically the end of it. Ashka’s letter had to be answered. The whole situation was unfortunate and should never have happened. Llillam entered. She gave him a reproachful, irritable look. Their greeting was as formal and impersonal as possible. Still, Elena had not been found, neither had the boy. Both had simply vanished. Llillam himself was not happy about it, fearful for his granddaughter. Alivan passed over the letter from Ashka.

  “I am afraid I received a very similar one,” Llillam frowned.

  “Then write to her. She is, after all, your daughter.”

  Oh suddenly she is, is she! Llillam thought and bowed.

  “You might like to know that the last sign of Elena’s presence we found was just outside the Black Wood.” Llillam said, feeling a bit mischievous, aware what that information probably meant. A deadly silence fell.

  “She wouldn’t! Not even she would be that stupid,” Alivan rejected the idea.

  “I would not be so sure, she is of our blood.”

  “She could not have passed through the Black Wood alone under any circumstances.”

  “The boy is with her.”

  “Even so, they are but two human children. Elena has no control over her powers. If she used a single spell in the Black Wood …”

  “That she has, and quite a number of them, actually,” Llillam dropped another bomb and Alivan managed only an utterly shocked silence.

  “On the other side of the Black Wood,” added the proud Grandfather with satisfaction, enjoying the look on Alivan’s face. An aghast Alivan was not an everyday sight.

  “Excuse me? What, pray, do you mean by the other side?” Alivan sounded sour and offended by his words.

  “I mean on the farther end of the middle pass-trail.” Lillam barely held satisfaction out of his voice.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Almost positive. At the end of the trail, we found evidence of a huge battle, in which quite a number of dankinsars had been killed. Many trees bore signs of explosive spells.”

  “Two small human children could not have traveled through the Black Wood on their own,” Alivan persisted and her brother smiled at her.

  “She is of our blood, we should be proud of her, dear sister.”

  “Find her!” Alivan barked at him. Llillam bowed, violated the protocol by kissing her forehead, and left.

  Ashka was not going to be happy about his letter. How was he supposed to tell her they had misplaced one of her children?

  4 CHAPTER

  HEALER

  A boar darted out of a bush. Nelson shot at it, but his horse reared and Nelson was thrown out of the saddle, landing hard, the arrow missing its target. First, the beast attacked Nelson’s horse, tearing its belly open, and then it dashed toward the hunter. Nelson dodged and tried to strike the animal with a knife. All he managed was to scratch the boar, increasing its furry. The beast lunged again, goring its enemy, then throwing Nelson into a bush. Two more charges followed, before the swine lost interest in Nelson’s lifeless body. Bloody and torn, Nelson lay tangled into a crumpled bush.

  ◆◆◆

  He would have probably been happier not to have woken up. His body was hurting all over, as if he he’d been torn open, head to toe. After a minute, he realized he was warm, lying somewhere soft, and opened his eyes to look at the rough beams above his face. A fire crackled and a herbal aroma filled the space. He turned his head. That too, had hurt.

  The bed he lay on stood in a corner of a small room with two windows. It was dark outside, but the room was lit by an oil lantern hanging above a rough table. Footsteps sounded from the outside. He wanted to move, but could not, condemned to helplessly watch the door open. A girl with firewood in her arms walked through it. She piled the logs by the fireplace and straightened her apron, looking at him with sky blue eyes. He held his breath, admiring her beauty. Noticing how tall she was, he realized he had seen her before, in the village. However, on each such occasion she wore a long black coat covering her head to toe, its cape enshrouding her face in shadow. She was slender, but beautifully shaped.
Sky blue eyes with laughter wrinkles around them looked at him from a gentle face. Her skin was tanned from the mountain sun. Long raven black hair fell onto her shoulders in light waves, crowning her beauty. She was the loveliest woman he had ever seen.

  With a light step, she crossed the room and lay a gentle hand on his forehead. He was unable to speak, his eyes still on her. The girl smiled at him.

  “The infection seems to be subsiding, but your wounds could still open again, so do not move much if you can help it.”

  Even her voice was velvety, caressing his soul.

  “Who are you?” he croaked with a harsh, rasping voice. His throat was dry; his tongue heavy in his mouth. The girl laughed.

  “Don’t you recognize me? I am the witch, from under the mountain.” When she said that, her laughter sounded slightly bitter. Returning to the fireplace, she poured tea from a kettle above the flames. With her help, he drank.

  “Careful, you can drink only a little. The boar tore your insides,” she warned and took the drink away from him. He put his head down again, and closed his eyes, feeling as exhausted as if he had been running all day.

  “I wanted to know your name,” Nelson whispered.

  “My name is Breta. And yours?”

  “Nelson.”

  “The butcher’s son?” Breta sounded slightly taken aback.

  “Hmm,” mumbled he and fell asleep. Gently, she caressed his cheek. The soft smile vanished from her lips, replaced by a concerned frown. She’d found him unconscious and torn up, and brought him to her cabin to care for. His wounds were severe and she was afraid he was not yet through the worst. It was snowing outside. Winter was coming.

  5 CHAPTER

  FOLK OF THE MOUNTAIN

  Wilbur circled above the mountains. He spent several long weeks looking for Elena. In his search, he flew a lot further than the elves have gone. Several times, he thought he felt a gentle touch of her mind, but whenever he concentrated on her, she either retreated or was not there. He tried to speak to her on several occasions, but she hid from him skillfully. Cold air fondled his scales. Winter was coming.