David Wells - Cursed Bones

“First, I thought I would offer you lunch,” Hazel said, ladling stew from the cauldron into a wooden bowl and offering it to Isabel. “Sit and eat. I will explain.”

Isabel took the bowl, still somewhat suspicious of her host, and sat down, trying to shake the fog of pain from her head and focus on the situation at hand. She reminded herself that battlefields come in all shapes and sizes.

“By all means, explain,” Isabel said, making no move to eat the stew.

“The House of Karth has been at the mercy of the Sin’Rath for centuries. Since the men are hopelessly charmed by the demon-spawn witches, the women of our house set out long ago to break the stranglehold they have on our family. That has proven a more difficult task than we imagined.

“I am the last of the true witches of Karth and now my family line is perilously close to its end. I can’t allow that to happen, so I’ve called Ayela to me to become my apprentice. I didn’t expect her to bring you as well, but perhaps that’s for the best. We have common enemies, after all.”

“Then why disarm me?” Isabel asked.

“Caution,” Hazel said. “I’m old and frail. You are young and vibrant. In a fair fight, I wouldn’t stand a chance, so I needed to ensure that any contest between us would be decidedly unfair.”

“So what happens next?” Isabel asked.

“We wait until the demon-spawn and the soldiers who serve them give up looking for you and move on, then you leave and Ayela stays here.”

“Is this what you want?” Isabel asked Ayela.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I think I could learn a lot from Aunt Hazel, but I also think the House of Karth is running out of time. Your plan may be the only hope we have for eliminating the Sin’Rath for good.”

“Don’t be foolish, Child,” Hazel said, dismissively. “If you go to the mountain, you will die with your friends and all hope for your family line will die with you.”

“What makes you so sure we’ll die?” Isabel said.

“Because no one ever returns from that cursed place,” Hazel said. “Few venture into the swamp, even fewer return, but in all my years of living in this place, I have never known anyone to return from that mountain.”

“So others have come,” Isabel said.

“Of course,” Hazel said. “The mountain was known to be a stronghold of Siavrax Karth, the last Wizard King. Legends have grown over the years, telling of fabulous treasures to be found there. I suspect those legends are the product of wishful thinking more than anything else.”

“If you’ve questioned me as thoroughly as Ayela says, then you know what I’m after,” Isabel said.

“Yes, you’re after a myth … a legend that may or may not have ever existed. And even if it did, it has long since decayed to dust. You will find only death on that mountain, and I will not permit you to lead Ayela to her untimely end.”

“Isn’t that her choice?” Isabel asked.

Hazel’s eyes narrowed and she sat forward. “No! She is the last woman of the Karth line, the last who could serve as my apprentice, the last hope for our family to end the influence of the Sin’Rath. She must stay here.”

“But what if Isabel’s right?” Ayela said. “What if we could destroy the Sin’Rath? And Phane with them? Wouldn’t that be worth the risk?”

“This one has poisoned your mind, Child,” Hazel said, gesturing toward Isabel. “Oh, don’t get me wrong, she believes what she says, believes it desperately, because she wants to believe it, needs to believe it. But reality is a funny thing, it doesn’t require your belief to be what it is. And the truth is, there’s nothing but death waiting for you on that mountain.”

“You’re wrong,” Isabel said. “The Goiri was real, its bones are waiting for me up there.”

“I hate to see you throw your life away, dear,” Hazel said, shaking her head sadly. “But it’s clear to me that you can’t be reasoned with, so I won’t try to stop you. You and your friends are free to leave anytime you wish, although I suggest you stay here until the Sin’Rath give up their search.”

“Where are they?”

“Close,” Hazel said. “They lost your trail nearby so they’re circling in an effort to find it once again.”

“What if they find this place?” Ayela asked.

“They won’t,” Hazel said. “This isn’t the first time the demon-spawn have hunted me. We are very well protected here.”

“How so?” Isabel asked.

“Magic,” Hazel said. “You are a Reishi witch. Your coven has always favored magic of a very direct nature, probably because of your use of wyverns as steeds. While direct magic can be useful in some situations, it pales in comparison to the magic of belief. My magic focuses on creating belief in the minds of my enemies. As we speak, my warding spells are influencing the soldiers searching for us, redirecting their attention away from clues to our whereabouts and planting suggestions that will lead them astray.”

“If your magic is so powerful, then why haven’t you succeeded against the Sin’Rath after all these years?” Isabel asked.

“I’m very close,” Hazel said, leaning forward excitedly. “I’ve nearly perfected a spell that will prevent the Sin’Rath’s charms from influencing the men. Once they see the true nature of the demon-spawn witches, they’ll turn against them and the Sin’Rath will be hunted to extinction.”

“So what’s stopping you from figuring it out?” Isabel asked.

Hazel clenched her teeth, scowling with sudden frustration. “It’s complicated. The Sin’Rath’s charms are unnatural, beyond the scope of any charm spell I’ve ever heard of.”

Isabel nodded, feeling a surge of anger well up within her, only to be dampened by the malaise weed. She directed her focus within and found the telltale touch of Azugorath. The Wraith Queen was trying to exert her influence again, trying to provoke a blind and uncontrollable rage within Isabel, but this time the malaise weed hindered her efforts with ease. With a deep breath, she dismissed Azugorath’s attempt at control and smiled at Hazel. “You’re no closer to creating your spell than you were when you first conceived of the idea, are you?”

“What do you know of it?” Hazel shot back. “You’re just a child, an infant without any real understanding of the craft.”

“So teach me,” Isabel said. “Show me why your kind of magic is so much better than mine.”

“I think not,” Hazel said. “You already have a coven, let them teach you. Besides, I have Ayela to instruct.”

Isabel smiled humorlessly. “I want to talk to Hector and Horace. Where are they?”

“I told you,” Hazel said, motioning to the door. “They’re outside.”

Isabel left the cottage without another word, stepping out into a secluded valley surrounded entirely by granite cliffs rising fifty feet into the air. The ubiquitous fog enshrouding the swamp was completely absent, revealing a sunny winter afternoon. The valley was lush with a wide variety of plants that looked like natural growth at first glance, but upon consideration must have been cultivated by Hazel for the sheer variety on display.

Isabel tipped her head back and closed her eyes. Slyder was perched on top of a cypress tree. She sent him into the air, circling higher and higher, trying to get a view of the valley but all she could see was swamp stretching away in every direction to the horizon. It made no sense. Slyder was close, she could feel it. He should have been able to see the valley, yet it didn’t appear to exist.

She followed a well-worn path through the artificial jungle toward the sound of men chopping wood. Not far from the cottage, Hector and Horace were cheerfully working away, splitting rounds of wood and stacking the wedges neatly along one side of the little clearing.