Chapter 20 — A Witch of the Wilds

In a dimly lit windowless basement, a mage stood at one end of a spell formation and chanted. The phrases of power echoed eerily off the stone walls.

Lying in the center of the spell formation, a tabby housecat mewed weakly in pain as the mage’s familiar approached it. But it wasn’t mercy that the mage’s familiar would bring. The shadowy claw sliced open the wounded housecat’s neck in a motion too quick for the eye to follow before gracefully leaping clear of the circle as the blood pulsed out and the ghostly glow of the formation intensified. Gradually, the housecat’s breathing became weaker until it stilled, and a silvery shape passed from the cat to the mage.

The completion of the ritual left an almost unnatural silence in its wake, only to be broken by a small sob.

“Take care of… the body for me, okay?” the young mage instructed with a sniffle and dried her eyes on her sleeve.

The familiar nodded.

Captain Bastach pulled himself up and swung his leg over to mount the warhorse that had been prepared. The horse complained, likely due to the bother of having to tote around a chainmail-wearing rider this late in the evening, and Bastach agreed with the sentiment.

Unfortunately, a scout had reported a pair of barbarians approaching the village—a heavily-armed man and an apprentice-aged child who looked to be a shaman, and shamans were always trouble. That they had a war dog with them was unusual, but there wasn’t much usual with barbarian encounters.

The most likely reason for a barbarian to come down from the highlands was trade, and from what the scout reported, the pair did have large travel packs. While it wasn’t normally a problem for barbarians to come trade, there was no way he was going to allow a shaman into the village.

With four of the guardsmen on duty finally pulling their horses up to accompany him, Captain Bastach led them out through the wooden palisade and onto the north road.

Some captains would bring more guardsmen when confronting a dangerous warrior and shaman, but two of the guardsmen were armed with heavy crossbows which should be adequate to the task, and if things went really ugly, he’d rather not have half the barracks cursed.

The crystal atop the shaman’s staff was shining bright enough to light the pair’s path, and even though it was a moonless night, the pair and the dog were clearly visible long before the light from his men’s torches reached them.

As his horse trotted steadily closer, he compared their appearance to the scout’s notes.

The guy was truly intimidating. Lithe and easy movements, black armor that looked like it was designed for mobility, a sword strapped on each hip ready to participate in a whirlwind of death, a large two-handed sword sized for taking down the monstrous beasts of the highland wilds, a mean-looking bow that could probably punch through armor at a hundred paces, and a fur cloak skinned off a mammoth grizzly bear. As if his beard and bulging muscles weren’t reason enough not to piss the guy off.

The shaman girl was wearing an expensive-looking gray cloak pulled back to show a dagger, wolf-fur clothing, and some medicine pouches. A crossbow almost as big as she was hung from her pack, and her cloth-masked and blindfolded face was framed by sun-bleached brown hair hanging down past her chest.

Wait. Blindfolded? How was she walking while blindfolded and why would she have a crossbow if she couldn’t see? And the way the dog was walking alongside the girl… clearly the dog viewed the girl as the alpha, not the man. Worrisome.

Ah, shit. The dog just nodded a response to an instruction from the girl, which meant the dog was probably a familiar, or worse. That would mean the girl wasn’t a shaman, but a witch of the wilds.

Oh, gods. One of the few things worse than a shaman was a witch of the wilds. And there was no telling how old a witch of the wilds really was—the girl might be over a hundred years old depending on how many men she had consumed.

Captain Bastach was almost one hundred percent certain he was going to get cursed tonight when the witch learned she couldn’t enter the village… not that he could stop her.

The pair moved to the side to make way for him and his men as they approached, and he was glad to see that they weren’t belligerent… yet. Though the witch did slip a wand into her hand… ah, not good.

Captain Bastach brought his horse to a stop. “Halt, travelers. What is your business in the village of Vorshan’s Hills?”

“Haha, that you, Bastach, ya bastard?” the man's voice boomed out cheerfully. "So, yer a bigshot now, eh?"

The guardsmen behind Bastach stiffened up at the insult, and while he was distracted by the words coming out of the barbarian's mouth, the little witch at his side tapped the butt of her staff against the ground, causing a creepy-feeling ripple of magic to spread through him before he could muster his inner energy to repel it.

How could he be so careless? If that voice was who he thought it was, he wouldn't put it past the guy to put this witch up to cursing him just for the fun of it, and he was pretty sure he just got cursed… sigh.

Nothing to do but give the man his laughs. "Jarrel, is it? What are you doing back here traveling with a witch of the wilds? I heard you left for Shadewood to settle down or something, and what's with that ridiculous beard?"

"Haha, well the beard… let's just say I lost a bet," Jarrel said, and a dark chuckle sounded from the witch.

Gods… she was creepy.

"Captain, you know this… guy?" One of his guards, Harvin, asked.

"Yeah, unfortunately. He used to be the best scout and hunter in all of Vorshan's Hills. And the rest of my question, Jarrel?" Bastach prompted.

Jarrel's expression darkened. "Shadewood is gone. You are looking at the last two survivors."

Stunned silence descended. That was the last thing Bastach was expecting to hear. If it was a dragon, that might mean trouble for the whole region. But, did that mean the witch was his wife? Daughter? Maybe?

"I'm sorry about your loss. Relations with Revant have been strange lately, so I'm sure the elders will want to hear any news that you have, but before that, who is this witch? I'm fairly certain that Revant isn't friendly to witches," Bastach pressed.

"You mean, this girlie here? She's my friend's daughter, Ria," Jarrel said and rubbed the top of her head, tussling her hood about until she childishly pushed his arm away and shot him a 'cut it out' look. "You a witch, Ria?"

"Hmm… probably. I was thinking that I could be a witch of the wilds. I can survive in the wildlands, I can make potions, and I have a familiar," the witch said and patted the head of her dog, who had been sitting on his haunches politely guarding his master the whole time.

Jarrel rubbed his forehead at the girl's answer. "No, I don't think that's enough to be a witch. Don't you need to do curses and dark pacts and such?"

"Hmm… you think so?" The girl's shoulder's sagged in disappointment. "I don't know how to do curses. And dark pacts seem like a really dumb idea, you know?"

"Obviously, that's the point! Remember what I told you about Crysellia and illegal ritual magic?" Jarrel pointedly asked the girl.

"Not to tell other people that I can-, ah!" the girl started to say, then exclaimed suddenly and looked aside suspiciously.

Jarrel threw his hands up. "Look, you. If you say things like that… What Captain Bastard here means is whether you can summon monsters, channel the power of minor gods and elementals, bind spirits to your will, and the like!"

"Some protective wards do call upon minor powers, you know, since Ward Magic originated from Shamanic Magic, but summoning monsters is what the dark pact stuff is about, and I already said that only an idiot would do that stuff," the girl, Ria, protested with a huff.

"I give up," Jarrel shook his head in defeat. "Bastach, the girlie here clearly couldn't tell a lie if she wanted to, and she's not going to do any illegal ritual magic in the village. I'm planning to adopt the girl, and I'll take full responsibility for any troubles, can't you just overlook it?"

Bastach sighed, even as naïve as the girl was, he didn't believe for a second that she didn't know curse magic. That ripple earlier was just way too creepy. "Even so, Jarrel. You know that shamans, witches, summoners, necromancers, and the like aren't allowed in the village. You know how the law is about unlicensed ritual magic users."

"Then I guess Lord Vorshan and the elders don't need to know what's going on in Revant. I'm not leaving the girl alone out here, so if she's not allowed in, then I'm not going either. Besides, the girl has physical proof to verify the news that we bring. So, unless you are planning to mug a little girl, you'd better run along and get permission," Jarrel said.

Bastach ground his teeth. The way the jerk just brushed him off made his blood boil! "If I arrest the both of you, then that's not a problem."

SHIIING.

Two swords were drawn. Two exceptional swords of a quality that was obvious even from a distance. Jarrel's eyes narrowed and gained a dangerous glint.

The girl's stance changed as well, and her presence became sharper, dangerous. Bastach was certain that she had just seized control of the ambient energy in the air around them. What had these two been through to feel so intimidating?

Even the dog rose up into a combat posture and started growling.

The guardsmen behind him weren't immune to the sudden tension either and had their crossbows at the ready.

Bastach raised his hand to stay them from doing anything stupid.

Shit. Shit! This was going toward ugly way too fast, and it was his own damn fault! Why'd he let his temper get the better of him?!

"I would advise against that, Captain Bastach. Traveling through the wildlands has made me way better than I was when you knew me," Jarrel growled.

Bastach had no intention of dying here. He was no match for Jarrel when they were younger, and he didn't even want to know what a deadly serious Jarrel was like, much less one that had fought his way through the monsters of the highland wilds.

And the girl, witch or not, with the way his hairs were standing up on the back of his neck, he suspected that she might be even more dangerous than Jarrel. There’s no way that a fight wouldn’t turn deadly, and killing kids was a bad business that he wanted no part in.

With a sigh, Bastach gave in, "Fine. I'll see what I can do, but bothering Lord Vorshan late in the evening is not the best way to get a good response. Is there anything you want me to tell him?"

Jarrel sheathed his swords. "Yeah, tell him that the Kingdom of Revant may soon fall and that the threat will eventually come to Crysellia. In exchange for the information, I want a simple favor."

Bastach and his guardsmen paled at the extent of the news. This was way above their pay grade.

Turning his horse to leave, Bastach nodded and said, "I'll see to it personally."

"Oh, and Bastach. One more thing," Jarrel called out. "I'm not trying to be a jerk or anything, but Ria and I pushed hard to arrive at town today, and we're rather tired. If it takes more than about a half-hour or so, we're going to start looking for a nearby farmstead to spend the night."

This jerk! Bastach kicked his horse into a fast trot. If he went to all the trouble to bother the lord, or worse, wake him up, and Jarrel decided to just not show up until morning anyway… ah, it would be a disaster. Even if he waited until morning to tell the lord, with news of this import, the lord would still be furious. That guy was probably laughing at his back… and the witch girl never lifted that curse she put on him either!

"You sure it's a good idea to give him a half-hour time limit? What if waking up this Lord Vorshan guy takes more than thirty minutes, and he just gives up?" Ria asked as they resumed walking toward the village.

"With news of this magnitude, Lord Vorshan will send him to find us, whether we wait for him or not," Jarrel explained.

Ria cocked her head to the side. "Then aren't you just being mean?"

"A little. He did threaten to arrest us, after all," Jarrel pointed out.

"Oh, that's true." Ria nodded.

"He would have been well within reason to arrest us! You basically admitted to his face that you are a practitioner of illegal ritual magic! If someone asks you about that stuff, you should just lie and say you don't know—don't explain magic theory!" Jarrel fumed.

Ria was taken aback by the sudden chastising, but still spoke up in her defense, "I get that, but once they know I have a familiar, isn't it kinda pointless? The familiar bond is a spirit bond. That's illegal ritual magic, right?"

Jarrel scratched his head. "Ugh. You don't have to say you did it yourself, you know! There are licensed mages available who can perform the service. It's just expensive."

"Oh."

"Rorawr?"

"No, it's not your fault, Ranger. I'm glad I made you my familiar," Ria said and affectionately scratched Ranger behind his ears.

When they came to a reasonable distance from the gate, Ria used her firestone to set them up a small campsite and prepared some soup while they waited.