The Stone Keeper's Quest- Elrich
Chapter 7

Queen Witch Moribund spoke to her coven with annoyance in her voice. “The girls led King Gilfillan’s soldiers right to our village today.” She glared at the crowd of witches, who looked ashamed and frightened.

“All Grand Witches, follow me to my hut,” She ordered. She turned and walked away, her black cloak billowing behind her. The other witches scattered to their baobab huts, chatting and gossiping along the way.

When they reached her hut, she said, “Witches, sit down.” She sat first and the others followed. She looked worried and angry. “Gilfillan knows where we are now. He won’t hesitate to bring a bigger army and kill us all.” She clenched her hands into fists.

Evanora, the First Grand Witch and the Queen’s second-in-command, urged the others to hasten their preparations for the Forever Wanderer spell. The Grand Witches agreed with her.

Queen Moribund tapped her long fingernails on the armrest of her chair. “Tomorrow, we will gather the ingredients for the spell. Is that clear?” she said, eyeing Evanora.

“Of course, my Queen,” Evanora replied, smiling sweetly.

Queen Moribund licked her lips and leaned forward. “And how many girls do we have in the pits?” she asked.

“Three, my Queen. They were abducted two days ago,” Evanora said.

“That’s not enough! Tell your covens to replace more girls,” the Queen commanded. She slammed her fist on the armrest, making the candles flicker.

“As you wish, Your Highness,” the Grand Council said in unison. They bowed their heads in obedience.

“Now, bring me Gianna and Andrea,” the Queen ordered. She wanted to see the two girls who had left her daughter to the mercy of Gilfillan’s soldiers.

Gianna and Andrea entered the room after a few minutes and bowed their heads to the floor. “Your Majesty,” they greeted in unison. They trembled as they felt the cold and angry eyes of Queen Witch Moribund and the Grand Council on them. They knew they had failed their mission and betrayed their sisters.

Queen Witch Moribund was furious. “How dare you abandon your fellow witches? What made you think you could leave them behind?” she shouted. She rose from her throne and walked towards them, her black cloak billowing behind her. Her face was twisted with rage and contempt.

“Your Majesty, we had no choice. They were too many for us to fight. We were outnumbered ten to one,” Andrea explained in a low voice. She tried to sound brave, but her voice cracked under the pressure. She glanced at Gianna, hoping for some support, but Gianna was too scared to look at her.

“That is no excuse! We never leave a witch behind, never!” Queen Witch Moribund slammed her hand on the wooden table.

She composed herself and asked, “What did you discover at the site?”

“We think it was a dragon, Your Majesty,” Gianna said, causing gasps and whispers of disbelief from the Grand Council.

“A dragon? That’s impossible. Dragons have not been seen for a thousand years. You must be mistaken,” Queen Witch Moribund said.

“We have proof, Your Majesty. We brought the dragon’s blood,” Gianna said, holding out a large calabash that served as a container. She hoped that the blood would be enough to save them from their fate. She knew that dragon’s blood was a rare and valuable substance that could enhance any spell.

“Place it on the table,” Queen Witch Moribund ordered. She gestured with her hand and a guard witch came forward to take the calabash from Gianna. She placed it on the table and returned to her post.

Evanora’s eyes widened. “The blood changes everything. This means we can now perform some of the spells in the Sacred Book of Shadows,” she said.

Queen Witch Moribund nodded gravely. She walked to the window, where she could see the crowd of witches gathered outside. “According to the Witches’ Law, the girls must face the same fate as any other witch. We cannot show them mercy, or we will lose our authority over all witches. Throw them into the pits,” Queen Witch Moribund commanded.

The girls cried out in terror and begged for their lives, but their pleas fell on deaf ears. They were dragged by their arms and tossed into a dark and deep pit, where no light could reach them. The pit was sealed by a wooden door made of logs lashed together with basswood bark ropes. The crowd of witches watched in silence as the door slammed shut. Some of them looked away, others whispered among themselves.

“You are dismissed, sisters,” Queen Witch Moribund said. The Grand Witches left the queen’s hut one by one.

Queen Witch Moribund turned to her personal aide, who was standing by her side. She lowered her voice and spoke in a hurried tone. “Fetch me three witches but be careful not to arouse suspicion. This must remain a secret.”

She thought of her daughter, trapped and helpless, and felt a surge of grief. Tears spilled from her eyes and ran down her cheeks. She heard the heavy footsteps approaching and quickly dabbed her face with a cotton handkerchief. The door creaked open, and three witches entered.

They bowed their heads and knelt on the floor. “My Queen, we are here to serve you,” said one of them, barely hiding her excitement.

Queen Witch Moribund looked at them with a stern expression. She pointed at the door and motioned for them to close it. “What you are going to do must remain a secret,” said Queen Witch Moribund.

“I swear to you, my queen, our lips are sealed,” said another witch.

Queen Witch Moribund looked at the three witches who knelt before her with a mix of gratitude and desperation. She reached out and touched their shoulders gently. “You are aware of what happened today. They captured our sisters, including my daughter,” she said.

The witches nodded solemnly. “We are deeply sorry my queen,” one of them said in a low voice.

They looked up at her with sympathy and determination. “What can we do for you, my queen?” another one asked, raising her head slightly.

“Save them! You must save them. They are suffering in the dungeons right now,” Queen Witch Moribund pleaded, clasping her hands together. She looked at the group of witches who had gathered in her secret chamber, hoping to see some signs of courage and compassion.

“We will do as you wish,” said one of the witches, standing up and reaching for her flying stick. She motioned for the others to follow her example.

“Are you aware of the grave peril that awaits you on this mission? It may very well cost you your lives,” Queen Witch Moribund warned, her eyes filling with tears.

In unison they bowed their heads. “We are prepared to face any danger for Your Majesty’s sake,” they replied. They knew the risks, but they also knew the honour and glory of serving their queen. They felt a surge of pride and determination in their hearts.

Queen Witch Moribund promised the witches a great reward for their rescue mission. “You will each receive priceless wisdom from the Sacred Book of Shadows,” she said. She gestured to a large tome that rested on a pedestal behind her. It was the most ancient and powerful book of magic in the world, containing secrets and spells that no mortal could comprehend.

The witches cheered and drooled at the idea of such treasure. She advised them to be careful and stealthy. “Travel by night, it’s much safer that way,” she said.

The witches agreed. She blessed them with a final wish. “May the spirits of our fallen sisters guide you,” she said.

“Drag these unnatural creatures to the dungeons,” ordered First Commander Zachary. He spat on the ground and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He watched with contempt as his men dragged the witches across the courtyard.

“Sir, do the witches need any medicine?” asked a soldier, looking at the bloodied faces of the captives. He felt a pang of pity for them, despite their crimes.

“Have you lost your nerve, soldier?” snapped First Commander Zachary, grabbing the soldier by his collar. He glared at him with cold eyes that made the soldier shiver.

“Never, sir!” replied the soldier, trembling under his gaze. He saluted and lowered his head, hoping to avoid further wrath.

“They will either perish in their cells tonight or burn on the stake tomorrow. Their fate is sealed,” declared First Commander Zachary, releasing the soldier and walking away. He did not look back at the witches or the soldier. He had no sympathy for either of them.

“As you say, sir,” said the soldier, following him with a conflicted expression.

Kiara was slung over the back of a horse and a soldier tossed her off. She landed on her back and hit her head on a jagged rock that cut her deeply. Kiara moaned in pain, unable to move with her hands bound behind her back.

Kiara felt a surge of fury as she watched Madeleine fall from the horse. The arrow in Madeleine’s belly drove deeper into her flesh as she hit the ground, tearing her tunic with its sharp tip. Madeleine’s scream only angered her attackers more. “Shut up!” one of them snapped, kicking her in the face. Two of her front teeth shattered, and blood filled her mouth. Madeleine twisted and moaned in agony, like a woman giving birth, trying to stifle her cries.

“Enough! Get them inside,” ordered First Commander Zachary. He saluted his men and rode away on his horse.

The soldiers dragged the two witches into a gloomy dungeon where the only ray of light came through a small window with metal bars. The soldier took out a dagger and the witches shrieked in fear.

The soldier slashed the vegetable ropes that bound the witches’ wrists and left them in the dungeon, locking the door with a chain and a padlock. Kiara and Madeleine sat in the dark, silent and terrified. Their minds were filled with loud thoughts of naked fear.

“Kiara, are you okay? You’re still bleeding,” Madeleine finally spoke, breaking the eerie silence. She reached for a piece of cloth and pressed it against Kiara’s wound.

“I don’t know. My head is throbbing, and I feel dizzy,” Kiara replied weakly. She tried to sit up but felt a sharp pain in her ribs.

“Those heartless monsters! They’re going to let us bleed to death,” Madeleine said angrily. She clenched her fists and glared at the door.

The sound of metal clashing interrupted their conversation. A soldier’s hand pushed two bowls of soup through the gap at the bottom of the door. He looked at them with pity and whispered, “Eat quickly. You’ll need your strength.” The girls grabbed the bowls and ate hungrily. Suddenly, a bronze bell rang out loud and clear.

“That’s not good,” the soldier muttered as he ran towards the noise.

An archer saw a group of dark figures flying in the sky. “Three witches incoming,” he shouted from the round towers as he quickly loaded his crossbow. He squinted his eyes and aimed at the nearest one.

“Archers! To your posts,” the leader shouted. He drew his sword and rallied his men to face the enemy. He pointed at the sky and said, “Don’t let them get close. They have powerful magic.”

The archers dashed across the walkway of the battlements, swift and silent as shadows. They took aim from the narrow openings, their bows drawn and ready to protect the fortress. They waited for the leader’s signal, their hearts pounding in their chests.

“Fire!” the leader commanded. A volley of arrows soared through the air, like a spray of water defying gravity.

“The time has come for us to strike back, sisters. We’ll show these villains what we’re made of,” the first witch declared, clenching her fist.

“Let’s go our separate ways,” the second witch suggested, scanning the horizon. She spotted a group of archers and decided to target them. She zoomed off to the left, dodging arrows along the way.

The third witch nodded her head. “We’ll cover more ground that way,” she agreed.

“That’s exactly what I was thinking,” the first witch said, smiling wickedly.

The third witch rubbed her hands together. “I love it when a plan comes together.”

“May fortune favour us all,” the second witch said as she parted from the others. The three witches swooped down and attacked from different directions.

With a unified voice, the three witches uttered “Dericho Rubhado” and raised their magic wands. Their wands were crafted from Fallen Hazel, a rare and powerful wood. As they spoke the spell, three white orbs of light swirled around their wands, growing larger and brighter. The arrows that were flying towards them suddenly stopped in midair, as if time had paused. The witches swiftly pointed their wands at the soldiers, ready to unleash their magic.

The soldiers gazed eagerly at their targets, expecting to see the three witches fall. But suddenly, three bright flashes of white light surrounded the witches, and the arrows stopped in midair. The soldiers gasped in shock as the arrows turned around and flew back at them with deadly force.

It was a cruel twist of fate to taste their own medicine. “Look out!” shouted the leader of the archers. Some of them scrambled to grab their shields, while others ducked behind the walls between the slits. The arrows hit them with a thud, and a chorus of moans filled the air as dozens of soldiers collapsed.

“Take your positions, archers!” the leader shouted, struggling to regain control of the situation.

The witches regrouped and stormed the castle. They soared over the walls and landed inside the courtyard. They sneaked into a dark hallway, trying to avoid being seen. One of them cast a spell to make their footsteps silent. The second witch used her wand to light the way. The third one scanned the walls for hidden doors or traps.

“They’re in the east hallway,” the leader reported as he grabbed his sword and shield and ran towards the hallway. He was followed by a dozen of his men, armed with swords.

“Sir! They’re heading to the dungeons,” an archer informed him, bellowing as loud as he could.

“Scorch them! They’re right below the murder holes,” the leader ordered, yelling back at the top of his voice.

The soldiers tipped over the large iron pots, spilling hot asphalt mixed with silver dust through the holes. The deadly mixture flowed down into the east hallway. Horrific screams echoed in the corridor.

The corridor was silent after the screams faded away. The soldiers who entered it were greeted by a sickening smell of burned hair. It matched the gruesome sight of three bodies, burned beyond recognition, lying twisted on the concrete floor. Their tunics had fused with their blistered skin, and their open mouths revealed white teeth that contrasted with their blackened faces.

“Your Majesty, we have vanquished the enemy,” the archer commander reported to King Gilfillan as he arrived. He bowed his head in respect and handed over his bow.

King Gilfillan approached the soldiers who were examining the dead and the wounded. He felt a pang of sorrow for the lives lost in the battle. He knelt down beside a young soldier who was bleeding from his chest.

“Sire, we have thirteen casualties and twenty-one injuries,” one of them informed him. He looked up at the king with a grim expression.

“Commander, keep a vigilant watch tonight. There may be more attacks,” King Gilfillan II ordered. He rose to his feet and scanned the horizon for any signs of movement. He knew that the enemy would not give up easily.

“Yes, Sir!” the archer commander saluted. He gathered his men and led them to their posts. He hoped that they would survive the night.