Witch Ember

"Marvelous! That was simply marvelous! Mol, Esmeree!" Hailoken exclaims as he enters Esmeree’s room.

She sits on the floor, devouring food furiously. The slugs can barely bring in trays fast enough. Despite her hunger, she is already feeling much better. Her ember summons and summons, and slowly, her injuries heal.

She looks up at the sacardd, aballo juice running down her chin. "I merely took advantage of the opportunity presented to me. I’m sure you’d have done the same."

"Oh, of course," he says as he collapses on her bed. Despite her gratitude, his presumed familiarity already annoys her.

"I have to admit, however," she adds as she digs into a loaf of bread, "That I was concerned about your intentions when you proclaimed the results of your augury."

"Uh," he sighs, "The signs were there. Even the least experienced auspex could have seen it. For me tä lie, well, it would have endangered all of us."

"Yes, of course," she murmurs. She nods towards the door. "It’s quiet outside."

He nods, "Problems with the rraakks up on some homesteads. The Rixueramos left with several cing at dawn."

A battle between rraakk and cing? Esmeree wonders how Hiisi would fare in such a contest. Thinking of the Bracks reminds her of something the gwrach said that still troubles her. "Hailoken," she asks, "What does it mean to be a luct-marvos? It means ‘dead clan’ in the Brackish tongue, yes?"

"Ah," he nods. "An outcast, an exile. Tä belong tä the clan of the dead is tä belong tä na tribe."

Esmeree nods as she eats. This would make sense. Hiisi is an exile. It would explain his defensive pride and his eagerness to take Brackish prizes.

Hailoken watches her eat for a while. When he ultimately realizes that she’s not preparing to sleep with him any time soon, he leaps to his feet and circles the room. "Ah! A fine room, uh? The Rixueramos seems tä favor yä, yäh?"

Esmeree glances around her. Compared to the palaces of Cliffs Reach, the place is positively primitive, but she doesn’t say so. Naw was furious about her victory, but he had little choice other than clear her of all charges. God had proven her innocent. However, he refuses to allow her to leave, and Hiisi still languishes in his cell. She imagines he will hold her here until he can find some new way to kill her with honor. It seems she has traded being the guest of a viscount with that of a rixueramos.

She sighs. At least she is now well fed and in possession of her ember. At least she has a bed to sleep in.

She eyes Hailoken. Unfortunately, she still has pests to deal with, no matter how much she owes them.

"The room is fine. I am comfortable. I wish I could say the same for my companions."

"Companions?" He looks confused. "Yä mean the cing and who else? The mosac?" His eyes widen. "Ah! Sä he was in on it with yä, uh?" He laughs as he points at Esmeree, "Yäh! Of course! Yä had us all well fooled! His innocent eyes and silent ways."

He sits on the floor next to Esmeree and says reflectively, "Gwrach Aggteb said she found him with yä, yet still yä managed tä convince her that he was one of yer prisoners? That was very clever. Yä played us all fer cualls!"

"He was one of our prisoners!" she says with some heat.

Hailoken frowns, "What? I don’t understand."

She drinks deeply from a pitcher of water and wipes her mouth. "Did you know," she says, changing the subject somewhat, "That the boy had absolutely no connection with his stone? It was like he didn’t even know he had it."

"Yäh, I’ve heard of that. It is done with the more powerful sorcerers."

"How could this be? I’ve known there was something different about me all my life! How could the boy not see it?"

Hailoken shakes his head. "It is a technique known tä the Brackish sacardds. With such power, with stones of that size, misuse is a real danger. When we see the signs in an infant, we perform certain rites, teach the child specific lessons, and train them tä ignore their stone. Hence, they are known as Divine Youths. Their fates are handed over tä the Gods. Thus, they live in ignorance until they come of age–our dear Maponos’s age perhaps–when they are taken tä a sacarddueramos fer formal training."

Esmeree blinks with realization. "When we found him, he was travelling under heavy guard."

"Uh," Hailoken says sadly, "Yä destroyed his future. Such a shame. I doubt the sacarddueramos would want anything tä do with him now that yä’ve awakened his stone."

Esmeree stares at Hailoken with shock. He said it so matter-of-factly. It doesn’t seem like he intended it, but his words do hurt her deeply.

"Perhaps it is better for him to stay here with the gwrach. Perhaps she will train him."

Hailoken shrugs as he samples some fruit. "Perhaps."

Esmeree finishes the last of her food, and she throws the apple core onto the tray with mild disgust. The hunger has been appeased for now.

Hailoken rolls over and looks at her expectantly. "Sä yä were layin’ with him, yäh? Yer stones minglin’, yäh?"

Esmeree looks at him wearily. "Yes."

He moves closer to her and touches her leg. "Yä both are powerful sorcerers, yäh? It must have been amazin’."

"Yes," she sighs, "We are powerful sorcerers."

Crawling behind her, he begins nuzzling her neck and shoulders. Typical Brackish foreplay. "More powerful than I thought, uh? I was surprised when yä defeated the fetish."

Esmeree freezes. "What?"

"Someday," he sighs, "Yä must tell me how yä gathered enough power tä do such a thing. I didn’t think it was possible."

Esmeree’s blood runs cold. Hailoken didn’t burn the wooden charm. But if he didn’t, who did? Her eyes close as she realizes. There was only one other sorcerer in that hall.

She looks down at Hailoken’s hands as they search for passage into her clothes. That son-of-a-bitch.

Taking his hand in hers, she turns to face him. "You want to experience the pleasures of love with a sorceress?"

His face is bright red with anticipation. "Oh, yäh!"

Gently, she slides his ember’s finger into her mouth, coiling her tongue around his knuckles and stone. He shudders with each caress. "Then I will show you," she says carefully around the finger.

She closes her eyes as she moans. "The first lesson is a little thing the Synesi call the morsiuncula."

"What does that mean?" he asks breathlessly.

Her eyes open. "Passionate bite."

Her left hand slaps down hard against his mouth as she flips him onto his back. Holding his wrist tightly with her right, she finds the knuckle with her teeth and bites down hard. Gristle and sinew crack as the joint separates.

Hailoken’s howls are muffled beneath her hand as she turns away and spits out the severed finger. He looks in horror at his maimed hand, his stone gone forever. "You leave me powerless?" she hisses, her lips running with his red blood, "You leave me to face that monster cing while wearing that Gock-damned fetish?"

His eyes roll in terror. She spits blood in his face, "Then I leave you powerless, you ard-vitchoor! I leave you as you left me!"

Grabbing the bronze tray from the floor, she tosses away the remains of her meal. With one mighty swing, she plants it solidly across his forehead. His head snaps back, bouncing off the hard floor.

Standing, she wipes her mouth and throws the tray away. Hailoken moans senselessly on the floor.

"This is it," her ember wonders. "Today, you either escape this place, or you die."

"I must find Maponos," she answers, "But first, we have to find Hiisi."

Rolling the unconscious sacardd onto his stomach, she gags and ties him securely, hiding him among the heavy rugs and furs piled against one corner. It could be days before they’ll find him there, if they ever do.

Taking the small gully from Hailoken’s belt, Esmeree swings her door open and nearly tumbles over Maponos when she rushes through. The boy was just standing there, patiently waiting.

She stares up at him with wonder from where she fell. "Maponos!"

He smiles happily. "I wait, brinneal-Esmeree!"

She scrambles to her knees and embraces him. He holds her warmly. Taking his face in her hands, she kisses him deeply. He pulls away laughing, wiping at the blood on her lips with his finger. "Ysár?" he asks thoughtfully.

"You saved me yesterday!" she says, nearly in tears. "You burned the fetish!"

"I powar bad-thing!" he says happily.

"Where is the gwrach? Where are your handmaids?"

He waves his hands in the air. "I späne them!" He pantomimes falling asleep. Esmeree is astonished. How could he learn to summon so quickly?

She looks around them. The Rixueramos lodged her in a small, single-room building near the main hall. This corner of the dunum isn’t very busy, and few people can see them. But the longer they sit in the dirt together like this, the better the odds they’ll attract the attention of someone curious.

She kisses him again on his forehead, leaving a bloody smear on his skin. "We have to leave. We have to get away, you understand?"

He doesn’t, but he nods anyway. Taking his arm, she runs.

Esmeree peers around the corner. Behind the palace, a long line of low shacks squat in the dirt. Esmeree remembers these shacks. Until yesterday, she had been locked in one. One cing stands guard.

She will need to deal with him quietly. Her Hammer probably won’t fell him quickly, and he might cry out. Who knows how many men are still in this dunum?

Esmeree looks around her. The dunum is relatively clean, though some trash and debris have collected against one wall. Partly buried beneath it, she finds a dead kobolde, its limbs sprawled akimbo like a broken puppet.

Blinking down at it, she touches her ember and begins summoning.

The cing stands lazily in the warm morning sun. To be passed over for the raid against the rraakks was an embarrassment, but there are worse things to do than stand guard on a fine morning like this.

His eyes open quickly when he sees the kobolde stagger into view. It reels on its wobbly legs, falls, and struggles to its feet again. He watches with interest as it approaches. Koboldes don’t usually behave like this.

It staggers up to his boots and sags temporarily against the haft of his gæsum spear. He considers crushing the vermin with his foot as he watches it slowly rise to its feet again. It then approaches his boot, draws back, and kicks him in the shin. The cing bellows as he falls. It feels like a hammer hit him!

Looking up, he sees the kobolde stagger away in flight. He leaps to his feet and pursues.

Rounding a corner, he nearly bowls over a fine young mosac. The boy smiles up at the cing. A smear of blood is on his forehead, and the kobolde lays motionless at his feet.

"What is this?" he demands.

A heavy weight leaps on his back. Long arms and legs wrap around him as he loses balance and falls. "This is your death," Esmeree whispers as her knife slides into his throat.

Esmeree rests her hands on Hiisi’s shoulders and concentrates. Her ember summons only reluctantly, but this time it does her bidding. Already the cing looks better.

They sit in Rixueramos Naw’s sleeping chambers. Two of his cings lay bleeding just inside the door. The blood drips lazily from their wounds, but this is natural considering that they’re dead. Naw’s four donas cower against the far wall. Despite Hiisi’s eagerness, Esmeree refuses to allow him to assault them. Odds are, most of them are slugs anyway.

Hiisi hisses with disgust as he examines the condition of his flintlocks. "Damn fool Bracks," he moans, "Can’t take proper care of the simplest things!"

Esmeree can hardly care. She can’t believe they’re still here. "What are you doing?" she nearly screams, shaking his shoulders. "Who knows when the other cings will discover we’re still here? Who knows when Naw and his men will return? We’ve got to get out of here! Now!"

Hiisi shakes his head as he gives up on his pistols and shoves them into an oiled bag. "We wait. Just a little longer."

"Why?" she asks with horror, "So the walkin’ dogs can find us?"

"Oh yäh," he says.

"WHAT?" she shrieks. "WHY?"

The ve’co berserker raises his spatha and eyes her. "Because I’m goin’ tä kill them all."

Hiisi stands before the palace, and the flames illuminate his face like a fire dusios. Inside, the women, children, and slugs scream for mercy, but the Brack is not in the forgiving mood tonight. The flames coil up the sides of the building, embracing its towers high above the ground and licking at the night sky. Four iron crowns nailed to the doors slowly melt in the heat. The bodies of the dunum cings who chose to face him lay in neat lines, their blood watering the soil. The blaze should be visible for miles around. Men in the near vicinity will come running, and Hiisi stands waiting for them.

Esmeree and Maponos wait with their horses, ready for quick flight. At last, the sounds of approaching horses reach their ears. She closes her eyes and prays.

Ten horsemen charge through the gates of the dunum. They stop short and stare in horror at the sight that faces them, their horses rearing in outrage and terror.

The lead cing points his spatha at Hiisi. "You there!" he shouts, his voice trembling with shock, "What happened here?"

Hiisi slowly walks towards them. "Where is the High King?"

"He is pursuing rraakks to the north," he says, obviously wishing his leader was with him now, "and won’t be returning for 2 days hence."

Hiisi smiles, "Unfortunate."

The cing gasps as Hiisi charges.

The first five fall within the first couple seconds, as Hiisi cuts his way through the unprepared cavalry. Some stand and fight, others flee. In the end, Hiisi cleans his blade on their braids.

* * *

The lights of the Orphan’s Bag are a welcome site. Esmeree nearly weeps when its familiar buildings come into view.

Arriving in the courtyard, Hiisi dismounts immediately and hands his reins to Esmeree. "Take care of the horses," he barks as he runs into his dorm.

Esmeree sighs as she helps Maponos off her marka. Telling him to wait by the well, she leads both horses into the stables. She smiles as he waves eagerly at her. She leads Hiisi’s epos into his stall and then tends to her pony. She checks her hooves, curries her coat, and massages her legs in the way Hiisi taught her. She then similarly tends to the epos’s needs. Afterwards, despite her exhaustion, she cleans the stalls and makes sure they have adequate food and water.

When she finally emerges, Hiisi is waiting alone for her by the well. He tosses coins from one hand to the other. A cold stone forms in her stomach as he smiles at her.

"Hiisi!" she screams as she runs towards him. "Where is he, Hiisi? WHERE IS HE?"

Hiisi smiles and tosses his coins from one hand to the other. Gold flashes in the moonlight.

Chapter 19: Hiisi’s Fury