PART TWENTY-FIVE Cont'd:
I hate to say; 'I told you so.':
“There has been some trouble ma'am,” panted the young man breathlessly. “I think it was an accident, I believe it was an accident. They said it was an accident.” He finished momentarily, as he squinted tear filled eyes at the witch while wringing his hands together.
“Calm down now, young fellow,” cautioned the witch flatly. Very much unexcited herself, by the young man’s dramatic entrance nor the stirring choice of words he blurted out. She knew him to be from the high priestess’ coven. One of the lost or stolen kids whose memories had been completely altered. Whatever had brought him here to her, or got him in a bind. She was convinced, it would be nothing she had not heard nor seen before.
“Now tell me,” continued the woman. “This trouble of which you rave, is it something you think, you know, you saw or simply believed. Or are you merely reciting what you were told to repeat?”
“Huh? I am sorry ma’am but I don’t understand the question.” He had stopped breathing heavily and was now staring at the witch. A lost look registered on his face. Wondering as he looked at her, if she had even heard a word he had just spoken. Here he was gallantly reporting serious and breaking news and there she sat like a tree trunk, visible unmoved.
Seeing his blank stare, the witch reiterated her question. “The accident of which you speak. What were you told happened exactly?”
“Oh yes ma'am,” started the lad almost immediately. Glad that the witch was finally catching on. “The high priestess was…. The high priestess…. There was a big fire….”
“In other words, the coven is on fire.” Interrupted the witch impatiently. Fearing that this visit and its definition, might take up most of her day. "The coven is ablaze. Is that what you are trying to say?” Refusing to wait for an answer, she plowed on with her speech.
“First the plague and now a fire. I had warned ‘shiny-shoes’ to release that girl. It was obvious to any sorcerer, that she would not be an easy sacrifice. As long as the girl was bound and captive in the coven, her connection and protection would ravage every effort made to use her soul, body or its various parts." She stopped to raise questioning eyebrows at the boy, who had just covered his face with both hands. But continued when he put them back down. "Yet she would not listen. Stubborn as a mule that priestess, she just would not listen. Proud and blinded by instantaneous empowerment, every of my warning fell on deaf ears.”
The sorceress shook her head and sighed heavily before continuing. “I remember telling her, that this ‘sacrificial captive’, was non-negotiable. Killing or using her for a ritual. Would only trigger an oath. A promise of protection so to speak, that would seek to destroy the perpetrators. But ‘shiny-shoes’ did only what she wanted to do.” She stopped, sighed and shook her head again. She hated wasting time on the inevitable.
“The plague? The girl? The oath? I know not of what you speak ma’am. I only know that the high priestess and her companion were in a fire….”
“Wait a minute. Did you just say that ‘shiny-shoes’ and her friend were in a fire?” The witch interrupted him abruptly and for the second time. Almost like she had just heard the word 'fire' for the first time.
“Yes, yes ma'am,” agreed the lad enthusiastically. Relieved that they were finally understanding each other and the story was getting somewhere. “That is exactly what I am trying to tell you ma'am. They were….”
The sorceress tuned out the babbling youth. Her thoughts now filled with recollected images of an engulfing fire. A fuzzy and disturbing sight, that she had only beheld a week ago.
A rewarder and promise keeper:
“Your highness…. Your grace…. Your majesty?” Stuttered the perplexed woman. She was not exactly sure of how to address the very regal figure standing before her. She was now a poor woman. Plunged into desolation. After her family’s only source of provision, was slain in the royal palace while on duty. But her lament for her husband could not have been over emphasized or prolonged. Considering their beloved queen and ruler had lost her life in the ruthless invasion and massacre of a royal kingdom. It had been a very dark time for her and her children. And also just as dark for a country in mournful distress.
Just when she thought it could not get any worse, her daughter had gone missing. Now presumed dead, the absence of closure had left a gaping and unhealed wound in her heart. The young girl had gone out with her friends like they always did. On their way back, chattering and bantering loudly above each other’s voice. They never heard the ritualists descending on them. Nine girls altogether and two of them had been snatched within minutes. One of the two girls, was her dear daughter. By the children’s frantic accounts, they had fought and screamed but to no avail. The hooded and darkly clad bunch, had overpowered them. Howbeit, with practiced skill and experience.
The whole town and neighbors had sent out search groups and informations about the girls. In the end, their diligent effort proved fruitless and hopeless. Now she felt like bawling all over again, when this elegant yet complete stranger mentioned her presumed dead daughter. What could he possibly know about her or what had happened? Was he an emissary of the king or the palace? But then again, no one had been spared alive who would have known her husband personally. And besides why would such an epitome of dignity pay her the visit instead? Why would he bother with them, their lowly abode and helpless state.
“You will once again be reunited with your daughter, the stranger repeated what he had just told her. “Expect her to return.”
“My daughter? Yes? Oh my,” exclaimed the woman as she began to cry.
“Whenever you are in need," continued the stranger. "Just go that pot. And there will be provision for what you and your children require.” His voice she thought, sounded like a wave of music playing with the ocean as its backdrop. Though mesmerized and overwhelmed all at the same time, she still turned to where his pointing finger had indicated. And sure enough, there was a large golden pot standing by the wall.
She turned back to the majestic stranger, who had already turned around. He had his back towards her now. Possibly getting ready to leave.
“But your highness. Ermm…. Sir? How can I thank you? I don’t even know who you are. I am….”
“Prepare for your daughter.” Was all he said as he began to walk away. His magnificent robe, dragging the sand behind him.
“My daughter, oh my daughter.” Was all the grateful woman could utter and repeat, as she stared at the retreating glow of light.
Coven, captives and cowards:
“Time to get that coven functional again.” Barked the ‘fly-lord’. As he pulled images of human frames, trapped in an aborted spiritual transit. Caught in a destructive and deceptive web of traipsing from one realm to another forbidden one. He watched disdainfully, as the helpless figures squirmed and floated. While their physical bodies deteriorated. What was initially an intriguing specimen of a moving mural, now became a horrific spectacle of human rebellion.
“Certainly my lord,” agreed Heinus the first monitor. “But how do we by-pass the irritant that caused the stalemate in the first place? It was the reluctance in her will, that started the whole gridlock and eventually produced a complete stall.”
“No it was not.” Corrected the ‘fly-lord’ smugly and then continued. “She barely has any will. Nor does she know what to stand for or against. It is rather a reluctance, stemming from a protection beyond her." The 'fly-lord's countenance began to harden even worse than he already was. His rage building and mounting, vying for a position with his hatred. Any sign, indication or mention of the Enemy, was a reminder of his real place and limitations. "Get her to agree with what is going on at the coven. Show her that it cannot be that bad to have everything you lust after. Make her promises of what she stands to gain. Then have her renounce any contrary agreement to all that I mentioned and to refuse anything protecting her from having all that she can have.”
Heinus nodded his agreement, as he stared at the mirror screen and all the images competing for attention. Transfixed for a moment, the monitor just moped. Before his master’s voice, jarred him back to the present.
“You must move fast and now. You must act before the reluctance becomes a full blown rebellion against our motives and work. Never let things get to the point, where it becomes an open wrestle between light and darkness. It would then be over for us even before it starts. Move quick behind the shadows, in the dark and then hit hard below the belt.” The monitor got up and voiced his obedience respectfully; “Yes my lord.” Then he turned around and walked out of the room.
.