The Witch and the Warrior

She knew eventually they would come for her; she just didn’t think it would be from his own clan. She gathered her wits as she began frantically throwing patchouli, horehound and garlic into the huge pot of boiling water; special herbs grown in her own garden meant for protection. Quickly she lowered herself onto her knees. With her head bent back against her neck as she looked up; her arms were outstretched and reaching for the ceiling. She began to chant, “Ancestral Goddess, protect me from those that come to do harm. Bless me with the power to ward off the death they intend for me,” her spell was interrupted by the gang of men from the Horton clan that had burst through the door.

“Not this time witch,” he said as he grabbed her by the hair and began dragging her through the small room at the front of her cottage. As they reached the door he threw her to the ground with so much force she felt the air leave her chest. She knew who he was; she had seen him in her vision. A massive warrior, feared throughout the land for his brutalness. Horace was the Horton Clan’s General Warrior; and the King’s right hand. He and his soldiers had been sent here by Henis to kill her; a punishment for her affair with his son.

She tried to muster the strength to get up; her body flat with the dirt she bent her arms in an attempt to lift herself up. She felt the stabbing of pain as Horace reared his right leg back and kicked her in the stomach; there was so much power behind his blow it sent her spiraling into the air, landing with a hard thud back onto the ground.

“There’s nowhere to run; this is the day you die,” he growled as he watched her wince in pain holding her stomach. He had not one ounce of regret nor doubt for what he was about to do. He was sent on a mission and had no intention of failing.

Three of his men gathered wood for the fire as the other two readied the large massive wood pillar they would tie her to. Horace grabbed the rope he had brought out of the leather satchel he had draped diagonally across his chest. He rolled her onto her stomach and began securing her hands behind her back; then dragged her to a small tree near where they would burn her alive. He didn’t want to waste time as she was indeed a powerful witch and he knew full well what she was capable of.

Her fear turned into anger as she gathered her thoughts; knowing his father was behind her attempted lynching. Their love was never one that was accepted; a Scarlet Witch and the most powerful kingdom's greatest warrior, the king’s only son. They both knew the dangers of the love they shared; that’s why it was hidden for so long. Had she not tried to tell him, even show him, that their unity would create a war?

As she watched the men continue to build the circular fire pit her mind began racing trying to figure out a way to save herself. She was the descendant of the Emperors Coven; and as such she held many powerful abilities. She needed more time, as a vanishing spell needed to be conducted under the full moon that was still a short time away. Closing her eyes and breathing deeply she allowed herself to fall into a trance-like state; using every ounce of her mental strength, to guide her mind to the spell she needed.

As the men continued their urgent plight to construct the death trap intended for her, she bowed her head and began, “I call upon you Kali, Goddess of Protection, protect this home when I’m here and when I roam; no evil shall pass this protection you cast.”

She opened her eyes, slowly, and repeated the spell three times as she stared at the men. The clouds emerged, gray and clambering and the sun disappeared behind their darkness. Noticing the sudden change in weather, Horace turned his attention to her. His anger was clear from his piercing gray eyes and the clenching of his taught jaw line. He threw down the ax he was using and stomped heatedly towards her. He bent down grabbing her chin forcing her head to tilt upwards and look at him. “Witch!! You think your trickery will stop your death? I have won many battles in worse conditions than this. Speak all the little pagan words you wish; your demise is inevitable.” With that he pushed her face harshly away from his hand; spitting on the ground next to her in a demeaning act of disgust.

A bellowing scream let out from behind him; quickly turning to access the situation he noticed the ax he had thrown down on the ground was now protruding out of his second in command’s leg. He rushed to his side; “what the hell happened!” Through a cracked voice wincing in pain his sergeant in arms responded, “I did not wish to waste time so I began chopping where you left off. I don’t know what happened! My arm gave out as I was swinging,” before he could finish he passed out; falling backwards with a loud thud.

“You! You did this!” He rushed back to her, grabbing her by the hair once again. “Fix him! Fix him now or, by the most powerful Gods you pray to, I will end your miserable life right now!” “I can save him but you must release me of my bindings and allow me to get my herbs,” she was hopeful her plan to bide herself some time was working. “Nae, you shall not be freed to flee; I will keep your arms bound and near me at all times. I will not fall for your trickery.” With that he untied the rope to release her from the tree, then bound them again, this time in front of her, allowing her to be able to use her hands to some extent.

Pulling both her arms up and pointing over to the right of her cottage she told him, “there; I need to gather herbs from my garden. We must act quickly to treat his wound or he will die.” Scoffing in disgust, he grabbed her arm, jerking her forward toward the garden. Once there she gathered yarrow and ginger root to help with the bleeding. “I need to go inside; I need some other things to mix to be able to treat his wound.”

Roughly he pulled her towards the door and pushed her inside. “Make haste Witch; I have no qualms with killing you now.” She walked to the small wooden table that sat next to her fireplace. On it were several jars of different herbs; all of which she used for an array of spells. She placed the herbs into a mortar bowl and crushed them together with a pestle. She added dust from ground peppers, flakes of dried oats and healing oils.

“Take me to him,” she said as she grabbed up the bowl of mixture and a jar of ash. She knew it didn’t matter if she treated his wound or not; her life was about to end. She could use the Evanesco spell; but that would leave her extremely weak and in need of the help from the Goddess of Earth. She knew what she had to do.

As they grew closer to the wounded man, Harper knew she had to act fast. She jerked away from Horace’s grasp and jumped back away from him. As he gathered his wits from her breaking free, he turned and lunged towards her. Just as he was about to reach her she threw up the ash from the jar she grabbed earlier and it made an unbreakable shield around her.

Horace hit the invisible shield and it sent him flying backwards onto the ground in front of her. She glared at him in rage as all her senses were coming full force. “I will not die today, warrior; nor will I kill you. You may return to your kingdom and tell Henis his plan did not work. The love his son and I share will not be broken!”

Laughing now, Horace stood and brushed the dirt off his pants. “Foolish witch! You think Henis sent me?” She looked at him confused; Braydon’s father hated his son’s affair with her; he wanted her dead. Braydon himself had told her that; not to mention her vision. “The all powerful Harper, seer of visions, you did not see this coming?” He continued to laugh as he paced back and forth in front of her; raging with anger that he allowed her to get out of his grasp. She never took her eyes off of him as she began her chanting; it was now or never, she must cast the vanishing spell Evanesco. She raised her arms and began to mumble the powerful spell as the winds picked up; swirling her hair around her head, the debri from the unbuilt fire pit was swirling around her circular protection of mountain ash.

As Horace began to realize what was happening he began seething with rage, “I will find you again witch, and next time I won’t fail! How foolish you are to mistake your lover’s loyalty. You did not see it? It wasn’t Henis that ordered your death; it was your love Braydon!”