The Banned And The Banished - Witch Fire Part 11

They could have slipped back around the corner and maybe escaped, but Elena's motion and Joach's word drew the eyes of the crowd. Most simply ignored the two children dressed in crude clothes. But Aunt Fila's son Bertol stared with eyes wide in recognition. He raised a finger to them. "There! There's my cousins. See! See, we weren't hiding them in our shop."

One of Aunt Fila's hands flew up toward her son, as if trying to force back his words and his betrayal.

Her eyes touched Elena's for a heartbeat, full of sorrow and pain.

The crowd lunged toward them. Joach tried to pull Elena with him, but strong hands suddenly grabbed them from behind.

Elena screamed but could not break free. She and Joach were shoved toward the crowd. Elena stared up into her captor's eyes. It was the butcher. Thick of limb, he held both of them easily. His lips were white with hate, his eyes red with murder.

"Call the guard!" someone in the crowd called as they descended on her and Joach. "We've caught the demon sp.a.w.n!"

Er'ril frowned at the mountain man, who still knelt in tears at his feet. Nee'lahn seemed abashed at his outburst, one small hand covering her mouth. "Krai," Er'ril said, "I know nothing to doom your people.

Stand up and put aside this foolishness."

Krai only moaned, his face turned to the floor.

The innkeeper approached with his broom raised across his wide belly. "Out with the lot of you!" He made a sweeping motion with his broom, then pointed its handle at Krai. "Out before that lout pa.s.ses out on my floor."

Krai pushed to his feet, now towering like a bear over the rotund innkeeper. "Guard your tongue, keep, or I shall nail it to your door."

The innkeeper blanched and took a step away. He raised his broom higher. "Don't... don't make me shout for the town guard."

Krai started to reach for the innkeeper, but Er'ril laid a palm on his high shoulder. "He's not worth the effort, Krai. Leave the man be." Er'ril tugged the tall man toward the door. It was like moving a boulder settled deep in the dirt. But Er'ril felt the man's shoulder relax, and Krai allowed himself to be pulled from the innkeeper's throat.

Er'ril turned to the innkeeper. "In the future, mind your manners among the mountain folk."

With Krai in tow, Er'ril led the way to the inn's door. Nee'lahn followed them outside, where the cobbled streets were oddly empty except for a pair of soldiers slouched at a corner near two tethered horses. One, with his jacket unb.u.t.toned and his gut hanging over his belt, raised a bored eye toward them, then returned his attention to his companion, who continued to brag of the previous night's gambling.

Er'ril ignored them and turned to Krai. "Here we part ways, mountain man," he said. "You seek the skal'tum, and as much as this may anguish you, I pray you never find it. But for me, I seek only the roadto the plains." He turned to Nee'lahn, who still stared toward the guards. She nervously scuffed at a cobble with the toe of her boot. "And what path do you seek, bardswoman?"

Er'ril never did get his answer from Nee'lahn, since a townsman suddenly rushed to the pair of soldiers from around a corner. "We've found them!" he yelled. "The demon children! We've got 'em caught like rabbits in a snare! Come quick!"

The heavier of the guards pushed off the wall he had been leaning against and nodded to the other soldier. "Go alert the garrison," he said in a bored voice, obviously doubting the agitated man. "I'll check what this fellow has found."

The other soldier nodded and untethered his horse. He mounted briskly and hurried past Er'ril and his two companions, the clatter of hooves deafening until he tugged the horse around a corner.

"Show me what you caught," the remaining guard said.

"It's those Morin'stal whelps, all right," the townsman said, pointing down the street. "Their cousin even confirmed it." He led the way for the guard and disappeared between the tailor's shop and the shoemaker's.

Nee'lahn was the first to speak. "What will they do with those children?"

Er'ril stared down the road to where the townsman and soldier had disappeared. "The town is incensed.

Talk of demons in small towns is dealt with brutally. By the end of this day, they will probably beg for death."

"But what if this is all gossip and rumor?" Nee'lahn said. "Then innocent blood will be shed."

Er'ril shrugged. "This has nothing to do with me."

Nee'lahn's eyes grew wider. "If you ignore this, then their blood is as much on your hands as on the townsfolk's."

"I already have blood on my hands," he said bitterly. Er'ril pictured the night of the Book's binding and the young mage slain in a pool of red with Er'ril's sword sprouting from his back like a weed among stones. "An innocent's blood."

"I know your story, Er'ril. That was the past. This is now!" Nee'lahn's eyes narrowed with anger. "Do not let one wrong stain your hands forever."

Er'ril's cheeks heated up-whether from anger or shame, even he couldn't tell.

Thankfully, Krai interrupted. "If these whelps be demon sp.a.w.n true," he said, "then the skal'tum may be close. I will go see."

Nee'lahn nodded her head. "I wish to go, too." Both their eyes swung to him. One pair of eyes determined and proud, one pair concerned and pa.s.sionate. Once he would have felt similar emotions at the thought of children in danger. But what did he truly feel now? He looked inward and found nothing.

This disturbed him more than their questioning eyes. What had the endless years done to him? He faced Nee'lahn and Krai. "Let us find the truth."

Elena watched Joach struggle with the ropes that tied his wrists. Thick ropes secured her hands also, but she stood quietly. What was the use of struggle? She stared at the remains of her aunt's bakery. The circle of townsfolk jeered and mocked. She knew most of them, had schooled with many of theirchildren. Still their faces twisted with hate. Even if she and Joach could shed their bonds, where would they run? This was her home. This was her people.

A small stone flew from the crowd and struck her forehead, causing her to stumble. It stung and blood flowed from the welt. She saw her cousin Bertol reach for another stone, but Aunt Fila slapped his hand.

At least one person still cared for her. Tears began to flow, not from the pain, but from all that she had lost.

Joach stopped his struggle, obviously succ.u.mbing to the futility, too, and edged closer to her. He had no words.

The butcher strode from the crowd toward them. He reached a hand toward Elena. Joach tried to step between but was cuffed away by a meaty palm. Elena saw blood spill from her brother's lips as he fell to his knees. The butcher ripped the hunter's cap from her head and released the cascade of her red hair.

"See," he said. "See the wit'ch! This is the demon that destroyed our lands and murdered good people.

Do not be fooled by her pretty face."

The butcher ran a finger across her cheek and down her throat. "Or her innocent body!" He suddenly grabbed her shirt and ripped it open. b.u.t.tons danced across the cobbles.

Elena cried out at the violation.

The crowd gasped at the butcher's actions. Joach fought to reach the man, but hands held him down.

The butcher traced a finger along the bare budding of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. "So innocent in appearance!" His voice had become thick and husky. "But so foul its l.u.s.ts!"

He swung away from Elena. "I can sense her evil trying to worm into me, tempting me with impure thoughts." He faced Elena again. "Back, wit'ch; you will not win me over like you did your brother." The butcher shaded his eyes and backed from her.

The crowd was hushed by the display until Aunt Fila pushed forward. "Enough!" she yelled to the crowd.

She crossed to Elena and pulled the torn shirt closed over Elena's chest. Elena could smell the scent of flour and sugar on her aunt's ap.r.o.n. She must have been working in the kitchen when the town rose up and mobbed her bakery. Elena leaned into her aunt's embrace.

Aunt Fila faced the crowd. "She is a child! Can't you see how terrified she is? Does a demon fear rope and mortal man? What proof is there that she did anything? Words and gossip! That's all."

The crowd still rumbled with anger. "The orchards!" someone called out. "We lost almost a quarter of the crop!"

Aunt Fila did not retreat. She pushed a lock of gray hair from her face. Her words were ice from the mountains. "I have lost more this day than the lot of you put together. It is my son that was cruelly murdered trying to save my shop! It was not the child that harmed me this day, but madness!"

She stabbed a finger at various townsfolk. "What if it was your child up here? Or yours, Gergana? Stop this madness! Look to your hearts!"

The crowd became subdued with her words.

"I know this girl and this boy. There is not an evil bone in their bodies! You know them, too! When has eitherof them displayed anything but good manners and a sweet countenance?""Fie!" cried the butcher. "We all heard talk of what a strange child she is, skulking in the woods by herself. Consorting with demons, I don't doubt! She just now tried to be-wit'chme!"

"Lies!" Aunt Fila pointed a finger toward the butcher, her lips tight with suppressed anger. "There lies your evil. His behavior speaks of his own foulness-not the children's. To a.s.sault a small girl in such a manner! That is evil, not the child!"

By now many eyes had turned toward the butcher with disgust. Elena allowed herself a moment of hope that perhaps Aunt Fila would win past this insanity. But then she heard words sound behind her in a voice from a moldy tomb: a familiar voice.

"Good woman, stand back from the girl. She has tricked you, tricked you all. She is a wit'ch, and I will give you proof!"

Elena twisted around to see the cowled figure of the old man who had murdered her parents. Soldiers stood behind him. Elena's knees weakened as his dead eyes settled upon her.

Using his poi'wood staff, the old man hobbled toward her. "Stand back!" he suddenly hissed toward the crowd.

Aunt Fila ignored him and stepped between the crooked man and Elena. "You! You were the one who accused these children!"

Elena's tongue froze with fear. She nudged her aunt's arm with her elbow, trying to warn her away from the man, but was ignored.

The old man waved his staff to his dark partner. "Rocking-ham, remove this child to the garrison. There, we will conduct our interrogation and prove her demonic heart."

Rockingham strode forward with four guards beside him.

Aunt Fila grabbed Elena's shoulder and tugged her away toward the crowd. "Like you did the Sesha girl two years ago. Her screaming still rings in my ears!" Aunt Fila raised an arm and waved it to the crowd.

"Who is willing to give another child to these monsters? This is our valley, our town!"

Around Elena, townsfolk erupted with echoes of her aunt's words. Elena's heart stirred, freeing her tongue. "Aunt Fila! They are the ones who murdered Mother and Father."

The crowd heard her words. A gasp arose from the mingled townspeople.

Rockingham and the four soldiers balked as the crowd grew belligerent. Several townsmen unsheathed knives. Elena saw the town's tailor slice free Joach's ropes. He dashed to Elena's side and untied her bonds. Freed, she rubbed her raw wrists.

"I told you Aunt Fila would help us," Joach said, his face flushed.

Elena noticed Aunt Fila's eyes widen at the sight of her stained right hand. Her aunt reached to cover it.

"Keep this hidden," she whispered quickly and drew the oversized shirtsleeve down around Elena's hand. Her aunt then turned her attention back to the brewing altercation.

The soldiers took a tentative step forward but were outnumbered by the townspeople.

"Leave the child be!" someone yelled.

Another raised a knife in the air and cried, "Protect the children!"Aunt Fila bent to Elena's ear. "You're safe now, dear. Don't fear. I won't let them harm our family anymore."

But Elena hardly heard her aunt's words. Her eyes were glued to the old man. She watched him raise his staff and tap it twice on the cobblestones. No one else took notice of the decrepit man's action. But Elena remembered the signal. It was the same one he had used when he called the white worms upon her and her brother.

"No," Elena's voice squeaked. She clutched Joach's arm, causing him to wince. "We must run!"

But it was already too late.

Someone in the crowd screamed in terror. All eyes turned to the smoke-stained skies.

From beyond the roofline, it came. A huge shape flew into view. Wide wings smote the air. Elena recognized the leathery beat of its wings. Its screech scattered the townspeople, who scurried like mice before a pouncing barn cat. Though previously invisible in the night skies, there was no mistaking the sound of the creature that had plagued her and her brother as they fled through the burning orchard. Now revealed, Elena wished for darkness to return again and remove the loathsome sight from her eyes. Its very image seemed to taint her spirit.

"See!" the robed man screamed. He pointed with his other arm, revealing a smooth stump where his right hand had once sprouted. "There is her demon consort, come to rescue her!"

The crowd erupted with screams, fleeing as the beast dove toward Elena. Only Joach and her aunt remained as it crashed to the street, taloned feet clawing the cobblestones. Through its skin, black blood could be seen churning in thick rivers. It folded its wings back and hissed at the townsfolk crammed into doorways and behind shop displays. Then its poisonous black eyes, glowing with malice, swung toward Elena.

Aunt Fila moved between her and the beast. "Run, children!" she said as she faced the creature. "Seek your uncle Bol!" Even before Aunt Fila had finished her command, Joach was yanking Elena toward the burned sh.e.l.l of the bakery.

Like a snake, the creature sprang forward and s.n.a.t.c.hed up Aunt Fila.

"No!" Elena cried as it broke her aunt's back, the snap distinct among the yelling. Then it tore Aunt Fila's throat open with pointed teeth and flung her body to the ground. "No," she moaned again as Joach pushed Elena away.

He was too slow. The creature shot out a claw and seized her brother by the neck.

"Joach!" she screamed as her brother was ripped from her side and hauled away choking, his eyes bulging.

BOL LEANED OVER HIS DUSTY BOOK. THE WEAK MIDDAY LIGHT shed only feeble fingers through the grimed window. The single candle on his desk, melted to a nub, waved a small yellow flame.

He had been reading all night, striving to glean the knowledge he needed. The stacks of moldy books and rows of cubbyholed scrolls were his only company.

"Fire will mark her coming," he mumbled as he combed white hair from his tired eyes. He squinted at the other words on the page. His lips, hidden under a thick mustache, slowly translated the ancient words.

The portents of the Sisterhood spoke of this day. He glanced outside. The windows of his cottage, builthigh above the valley in a lonesome place called Winter's Eyrie, had glowed red all night with the flames of burning trees.

Poor child. She should have been better prepared, warned.

Rubbing his white beard, Bol turned back to his tome, but as he paused with a finger gently turning a rat-nibbled page, his heart trembled a beat; then a loss larger than his house filled his chest. He placed both palms on his desk, keeping himself from tumbling to the plank floor. An intense sorrow threatened to swallow him away as he felt his twin sister die.

"Fila!" he moaned to his empty room.

Tears rose to his lids and fell to the yellowed pages. Usually so fiercely protective of these fragile texts, he let the salt of his tears smear old ink across the page.

He clutched an amulet through the coa.r.s.e weave of his shirt. "Fila!" he called again.

And as always, she came to him.

The corner of the room by the hearth glowed softly like a will-o'-the-wisp. The weak glow retreated inward, growing brighter as it shrank in size, until finally it formed the figure of his sister. Dressed only in sweeping eddies of white light, she frowned at him, more exasperated than sad.

"It's time, Bol."

As his tears welled, her image swirled. "Then it's true!" he said.

"No tears." She still wore her no-nonsense grimness. "Are you prepared?"

"I... I expected more time, years still."