Witching Games: The Fire Witch Chronicles 1

by R A Lindo

  “Hold!” the bearded figure shouts to his crew, including the Domitus guarding the open cell, and they do just that, using their penchants to light up the mountain walls, preparing a retreat if necessary.

  They probably don’t know I’ve faced Riadek before — loads of them in The Caves of Varakel when we wiped out an even bigger monster: the Dexametris. If the Domitus think one Silverback’s going to send us running, they’re in for a surprise.

  A flicker of light from my Promesiun charm snaps Noah and Lucy into action. “Circle the Riadek as it closes in,” I instruct at the sound of the first roar. “Fire and Light to disorient it, then water to flood it back into its cell.”

  A nod from the others signals a familiar drill, ending with the use of the flight charm to avoid being caught in a flood of our own making. We still have the advantage of being kids in the eyes of most adults, despite our experience in battle. The half-surprised, half-contemptuous looks on the bearded soldiers’ faces suggest they doubt our military skill. Well, there’s no time like the present to remind more seasoned wizards of our abilities.

  If they haven’t worked out why I’m called The Fire Witch, they’re about to find out as I whip my Promesiun charm into the air, sending it spinning close to the group of Domitus who look as though they’re going to retaliate until they feel an imposing presence above them … reminded of the power of the Williynx who can shatter bodies with blasts of ice.

  The smug grins are wiped off their faces as I lift my Promesiun charm higher into the air, whipping it in a circular motion around the group of Domitus who are forced to remain static, suffering a mild humiliation at the hands of a girl they were laughing at only minutes ago.

  Their smiles have turned to expressions of mild puzzlement, wondering why my back is turned to a colossal creature pounding its hind legs on the earth as it strains against the chains containing its famed ferocity.

  I know exactly where the Silverback is, keeping Conrad in my peripheral vision as I make a point to the arrogant men who inch back towards the mountain face, jumping at the sound of a roar from another cell buried in the mountain walls.

  They know the consequences of retaliation … as do the other Domitus who appear from illuminated arches in the mountain walls … including Odin and Neve Blin who offer us the same blank stare we got at Poridian Parlour.

  With everyone in play, I return to the formation of four, standing in between Conrad and Lucy with Noah opposite: a synchronised group of Night Rangers familiar with each other’s rhythms, ready to put on a show for the band of soldiers conditioned in cruelty.

  “Let’s break the chains and give them something to think about,” Conrad suggests, eyeing the muscle-bound group who watch from a distance.

  I nod with a smile, confident of my magical powers and completely trusting the boy I love. We’re a formidable force, and it’s time to show the emotionless soldiers the consequences of courting danger. As the Riadek roars its fury, straining against the chains containing its powers, the four of us send our Promesiun charms along the ground.

  We lift them inches from the Silverback’s constrained, armoured body … the lines of light resting on the chains, infusing them with steel until the links weaken and shatter one-by-one … allowing the Silverback to roar into life.

  “Now!” I shout to the others who know what to do, activating the Disira charm to vanish from view, reappearing behind the freed Silverback who roars once more, sniffing for our scent along the ground as its vast, armoured wings spike with sinister intent.

  Another strike with the Promesiun charm rips through the soil around the roaring Riadek, causing it to lose its footing as it tries to turn, angling to whip its armoured wings towards us, but we vanish before it can, sending a blast of fire towards it with the use of the Smekelin charm — fire that hangs like a curtain around the disoriented Silverback which shrieks at the sight of the curtain of flames engulfing it.

  Unlike the crowd of Domitus who look on in silence, there is no intention to use cruelty to force a submission. In fact, our intention is the exact opposite, aiming to prove that power can be asserted in subtle ways — through common charms rather than unnecessary curses. It’s just a matter of wrong footing a once-feared creature until it senses defeat, symbolised by our collective shout of ‘LEVERIN’ as we release a flood of water from our hands.

  The water fills the taming range quickly, rising to our ankles as the curtain of fire limits the Silverback’s vision. Each time it moves, the curtain closes in, the flames intensifying as it does so. It only needs the water to rise now for the point to be made: that the taming methods used are questionable, meaning the Domitus are now in our sights.

  With the water rising in the taming cell, we enact the final charm, uttering ‘Propellus Celiri’ to rise from the ground, our legs free of the water as a flower wraps around our wrists, propelling us towards our Williynx.

  Once astride our feathered companions, we tap our legs to ignite a flume of fine ice, ensuring we remain positioned over the group of stunned Domitus who can only look on, fuming at the sense they’ve been forced into a humiliating position of submission. The soldiers of Drandok are no match for the Williynx, remaining motionless as the water rises to their waists.

  Their arms remain by their sides, their neutral position signalling no threat as we tap our legs against the Williynx once more, triggering mild blasts of ice that freeze the water surrounding the Silverback: a vision of youth and colour in the sky, causing a monster to retreat to its stone cell.

  A collection of colourful feathers drains the water from the taming range, generating a line of light on the outer boundary, creating a drainage system in the soil. With our skill in the face of ferocity proven, we signal for our feathered friends to morph into smaller forms, allowing them to stay close by, hovering near our shoulders as the real conversation begins.

  It’s time to find out what the Domitus are really up to. First, two of them appear in The Shallows, entering into a staring contest with four young wizards minding their own business; then there’s the use of curses to tame Silverbacks. In Conrad’s words, if they want a duel, they can have one — not that it’s going to distract us from finding out if more surveillance is needed in Drandok.

  The Domitus seem unintelligent and predictable, down to their mannerisms, dress code and crude forms of intimidation, and if they thought drawing us here was going to make us weaken at the knees, they’ve misjudged us. Whoever the leader is, he’s going to need more than muscles to explain his way out of a taming ritual that uses curses.

  A group of kids has just proven they’re unnecessary, so unless he wants a flood of a different kind, in the form of a colossal army of Society soldiers descending on Drandok, he better start talking.

  “Impressive, Miss Grayling,” he offers with a sneer which soon falters when I put him straight.

  “It’s Guppy and I’m no Miss.”

  “Of course. And you must be Conrad: the boy gifted with flight.”

  “And who are you?” Conrad asks, touching the Quivven that continues to glow in his neck.

  “Orgev.”

  “Well, Orgev, do you mind explaining why you’re using curses to tame Silverbacks?”

  “It’s the most effective way for lasting results.”

  “Lasting meaning what?” Lucy asks, stepping forward to make sure she’s noticed.

  Her slight demeanour makes people misjudge her, although I think Orgev’s getting the point; we’re not leaving until we get answers.

  “Taming is a process of steps … the Niavak curse used mildly in the final phase.”

  “Why…?” Noah challenges, pulling the top off a vial of orange liquid: Srynx Serum for mild wounds, applied to the small burns he’s acquired from using the fire charm.

  “Because the Riadek needs to be diminished for its powers to be permanently altered. Everything we do is authorised by the Society. The Orium Circle visit regularly to carry out checks.”

  “And d
o The Orium Circle know some of your soldiers are riding around The Society Sphere on Silverbacks…?” I ask. “Like those two who are hiding back there.”

  “There’s no law against this,” Orgev replies, the smug smile returning.

  “And is there a law against duels?” Conrad prompts, “because something tells me your comrades tracked us to The Shallows, looking for something.”

  “And what would that be?”

  “A challenge,” Conrad replies with increased intent. “I mean, it must get boring out here, firing curses at creatures in chains. Not much of a challenge, is it?”

  Orgev’s smug smile fades, replaced with the emotionless glare we were faced with in Poridian Parlour. “We should remember we are on the same side, Conrad, sacrificing many things for peace.”

  Conrad takes a step closer, studying the muscle-men surrounding Orgev. “That’s funny,” he begins, “because I get the feeling you’re up to something out here, making me wonder if you’re the people Alice Aradel is hiding from. After all, the evening witch has lost her powers, relying on desperate trades to keep her going. All of a sudden, she risks capture to get her hands on a few Zombuls…?”

  “False accusation is a serious offence, Conrad.”

  “And so is abuse of power, Orgev, so you’ll let us look around or we’ll come back with an army.”

  “And you think you have that power?”

  I step alongside Conrad, holding Orgev’s smug gaze before adding, “Well, we know a man who does … Casper Renn … who’s watching all of this in The Cendryll.”

  That changes things, Orgev faltering at the sound of Casper Renn’s name: a man who’s fought and defeated every threat in recent history. I’m sure he’s studying us now, watching as we stare down the group who realise they’ve got a decision to make: truth or dare.

  16

  Cursed Flight

  The mild tension in the air eases as Orgev offers us another smile, this one a little more genuine.

  “So, what would you like to see?” he asks, gesturing around him to the mountain walls framing the taming range. “We can take you closer to the cells, offering you reassurance that cruelty is not the aim of our taming procedures. We can also give you a more general tour within the mountains, where we live when based here. Otherwise, we can show you Drandok from the skies.”

  Conrad doesn’t bite at the obvious bait — his desire to test himself against the Domitus currently under control.

  “Maybe, the grand tour later,” I say, replying before male ego gets out of hand. “What about showing us inside to give us a sense of the place? Then we could watch a taming procedure from start to finish, giving us the reassurances we need.”

  “As you wish, Guppy,” Orgev replies, buttoning the top of his loose grey shirt in a gesture of odd formality. He’s either patronising us with his sudden desire to please or there’s more to it: a leader possibly worrying about what could be revealed.

  I haven’t got Conrad’s sense about the place yet, whistling for Laieya to hover close by as we head towards the mountain crevice in the east wall. Unlike the Silverbacks caged in their stone cells, our Williynx can shape shift into any form, making them an unpredictable threat to those on the wrong end of their fury.

  The Domitus know the Williynx well, the frequent glances from Orgev and his crew a sign of their wariness. After all, one blast of ice from a Williynx can shatter a body beyond recognition. We’re not here to start an argument — as much as Conrad would like to — but to get clarity on the intent of two figures who appeared in Poridian Parlour.

  Whatever the reason, we’re about to find out more as we follow Orgev’s crew through the mountain crevice, leading us into a labyrinth of spaces housing a strange silence. The spaces appear at the end of a winding walkway, the mountain crevice expanding the further we walk, leading to open rooms decorated in various ways.

  Male and female figures occupy the rooms … rooms which remind me of the cells the Silverbacks are trapped in at the foot of the mountains. Drandok isn’t a prison but it isn’t a holiday camp either, making me wonder who would choose such an existence.

  A female figure steps behind a curtain hanging in her colourful space. As she does, I see the glimmer of glass on the other side … glass that forms the wall looking out over the mountains. It’s not just any window, though, it’s an illustrated window — every pane presenting the viewer with a vision of a particular Society location.

  The woman places her hand on the pane in the top right-hand corner, running her fingers along the outline of a realm I don’t recognise. With our Williynx fluttering nearby, maintaining their minuscule forms, our tour of the silent sanctuary continues.

  “What’s she doing?” Noah asks, glancing at his rumbling belly.

  “Looks like she’s remembering something,” Lucy replies, “or someone.”

  “Stalking someone, you mean,” Noah adds, apologising when he accidentally steps on Orgev’s foot.

  The Domitus might be extending their hospitality but it’s a forced gesture, not forgetting we’ve barged into their home, implying certain things about their rituals.

  “Eiola was once a Night Ranger like yourself,” Orgev explains, nodding to the comrade closest to him to add some well-needed illumination to proceedings. The comrade presses the palms of his hands against the mountain walls, causing a string of light to appear.

  The light runs from his hand along the wall ... a line of light which stretches into a web of illumination, decorating the inner sanctum of Drandok with a softer tone. The soft light glowing on the walls makes me reconsider the silence here, the realisation forming that we’re in the presence of trauma, not danger.

  “She looks lost,” Conrad whispers to me, picking up on what I sense: that Drandok is a realm where the traumatised arrive to tame their inner demons.

  This leads me to a second thought … that the taming of the Silverbacks is a test of the Domitus, assessing whether their grief has the potential to morph into venom.

  “Drandok can be described as a place for the lost,” states the oldest of the bearded soldiers, broad but without the excessive muscle of his comrades. He’s striking to look at — the hollow cheeks accentuating grey eyes that seem to look beyond you.

  “Like Sad Souls,” Lucy says, raising a hand to a young man sat cross-legged to our left.

  His cell is decorated with drawings of infamous Society creatures — enemies that still haunt him, maybe.

  “In some ways,” replies the older figure, “although Sad Souls is for the fallen whereas Drandok caters to the brave.”

  “Why do they come here?” I ask, feeling guilty that I judged this silent group too soon.

  “To mend significant wounds: psychological rather than physical.”

  “Shell shock, you mean?” Noah asks, moving a little easier through the strange hotel for troubled legends.”

  “Yes,” Orgev replies, running his hand along a string of lights illuminating our way. “Trauma that can’t easily be shaken.”

  “Is it why you don’t smile that much?” Conrad asks as his intense gaze softens.

  We’ve misjudged Drandok, it seems, and the people who live here. I still want to know more about Odin and Neve Blin, though, and why they sought us out in Poridian Parlour. Maybe they’re as traumatised as everyone else here, sitting in the small spaces they call home, studying the illustrations on the windows that provide memories of better times. There’s still the use of the curses to be explained, something that still doesn’t feel right, so I ask the question.

  “So, just so I understand, traumatised soldiers choose to come to Drandok?”

  Orgev nods, offering handshakes to the inhabitants who are confident enough to step out onto the walkway. “Yes, Guppy. There is no dishonour in suffering the consequences of war, something the Society has worked very hard to ensure. In the past, soldiers were left to fight on or return to less dangerous pursuits in faculties and peaceful realms.

  The issue with
this, of course, was that we left damaged witches and wizards to roam with their ghosts, haunted by visions they couldn’t escape. The most damaged became dangerous, eventually rising to pose our greatest threat.”

  “Erent Koll,” I mutter, remembering the evil energy of the man we finally defeated in The Saralin Sands.

  “Indeed, Guppy — Erent Koll and his kind. The Society has learnt many things since the last war, including distinguishing between the damaged and the damned.”

  “The damned?” Lucy asks, shaking the hand of the tall lady who nods as we pass, whispering indecipherable words.

  “Those who become bitter,” Orgev explains. “Angry at the price they’ve paid, marked for life in various ways. I can see you’re troubled by our use of curses on the Silverbacks.”

  “It seems unnecessary,” Conrad adds as sunlight falls onto the illustrated windows to our right, offering further illumination on our tour. “I know we jumped to conclusions; I shouldn’t have assumed wrongdoing.”

  “It’s an easy assumption to make, young Conrad,” the eldest of our bearded guides replies, offering a reassuring smile. “The Society spent years tracking and punishing those engaging in dark magic; it’s only natural that you’d be suspicious of our practices.”

  “So, why do you use curses on the Silverbacks?” Lucy asks, taking in the surroundings which suggest calm, not malice.

  “To make the critical distinction,” Orgev explains, “between the damaged and the damned.”

  “So, the curse tests soldiers who have gone bad?” Noah prompts.

  “Precisely, Noah. The one thing to test a person’s hidden motives is power. Gorrah — dark magic — feeds off resentment and bitterness, turning such feelings into malevolent thoughts.”

  “So, the curse is more for the soldiers who arrive here,” I add, realising how wrong we’ve been about Drandok, “testing their intentions.”