The Making of Witches

Chapter 8

Lore felt the volumes the silence spoke and allowed her mind to sink back into some degree of normalcy. She allowed herself to take a full breath in what felt like years and the fire dimmed slightly, returning just back to the palm of her hand. Someone whispered from the crowd,

"Motherfucker."

Lore smiled. The captain, although alert, seemed rather unbothered. Maybe that was just a facade. A woman like Captain Swift must have mastered thousands of faces. She leaned in closer, the light framing her face.

"I would call that a win, demon from Bellweather. What manner of demonic magic was that?" The captain seemed genuinely intrigued. Not a hint of fear in her eyes, just simple curiosity. That was the most terrifying bit. The ethereal voice within her bristled and a voice that was not quite Lore's answered.

"Demonic? That was godly." Lore spoke, and the invisible voice seemed to back her up, the two sounds blending into one. Swift leaned back in her throne as the crowd stared at her in shock.

"Can't argue with that. Well, not-demon from Bellweather, I will need something else to call you."

Lore shifted on her feet, staying silent. She wasn't sure if she should answer. Swift seemed like the type of person who could use even your initials against you. Swift scraped the side of her throne with a long fingernail, staring darkly into Lore's eyes.

"When I ask a question you answer, girl."

"Lore. My name is Lore." She answered, her voice hard and cold. An edge of fatigue crept into her answer and she swayed slightly. The adrenaline from the fight was starting to wear off and slowly she began to feel the pain all over her body. The slash across her chest was bleeding through her pathetic scrap of a blouse and the red stain spilled down her chest. She pressed at the wound with two fingers and winced, smearing the blood everywhere. Swift gestured towards the cut with a lazy finger.

"Looks serious, Lore." Swift swirled her name around in her mouth like a bad taste as Lore bit back a squeak of pain, hunching over slightly as she pressed the fabric into the cut.

"Yeah," She gasped as the pain returned in full force, the adrenaline completely wearing off, "Dick had a knife." Her eyes drifted towards the pile of ash on the floor, the knife resting atop it, and the ring of burned wood surrounding her. It finally clicked in her mind that she had done that. That was her power. A small snake of guilt slithered in the back of her mind but she ignored it.

"I can see that." Swift talked as if it was an ordinary Sunday evening, as if she hadn't just witnessed a feat of magic. Lore grew impatient, sensing the blood loss starting to get to her.

"Will you get to the damned point?" She growled and someone gasped from behind her. It sounded like Keelin.

"Told ya. Gal's got guts." She heard Keelin whisper to someone else. Swift smiled.

"Cheeky girl. Do you have a death wish?" Lore chuckled even as stabs of pain spiked through her torso and she gasped for air.

"You know, I'm starting to think so." Swift took a step off her throne and the crowd parted as she made her way down until she was stepping over the ring of burned wood and into the circle. She kicked the pile of ashes and it fluttered in the air, drifting up as a cloud of char. Even her walk was polished and deadly as if she had been trained from birth on how to walk perfectly. Lore instinctively took a step back as she sensed danger, the flame flaring up again in her free palm. The captain remained unfazed.

"Well, you see, Lore, I now have an empty spot in my crew." She gestured to the lonely knife on the floor and Lore swallowed. "I'm very keen on having you fill it. Having the power of the gods on our side couldn't hurt, could it?" Lore stared deep into her eyes, trying to figure out her motive. She could easily run now. Torch who she needed to and disappear into the woods again. But something told her that was not the right move, something deep in her gut. If she ran, she would be hunted by whoever survived and now the captain could easily give her location to the townsfolk who would kill her. And she could never survive with the wound in the woods. So she continued to listen as Swift laid out her proposal. "But the thing is, I can't have you burning any of my crew. That would be a problem." Her tone had taken a turn for deadly. "Now I am very happy to tell my friends in Bellweather about your presence here. It would be the loss of a good asset but overall not much of a hassle." Lore swallowed and nodded softly. Anger raged within her mind as she realised how badly she had been backed into a corner. She had shown her hand of cards and now Swift was going in for the kill. Neither option was nice in any way, shape or form, but it was either becoming the captain's little magic pet or death by morning. The captain wore a wicked grin, sensing her decision even though she hadn't said anything. "So, what do you think, Lore? I think we have ourselves a deal."

Pain was everywhere, echoing throughout her body. Lore could barely do anything but mumble her agreement under her breath before swaying again.

"Keelin." Swift snapped her fingers and within seconds her lackey was by her side, ready to do her bidding. "Get our new blood here stitched up. Can't have you dying before your first mission, can we?"

Keelin wrapped an arm around Lore's waist and shifted under the girl's weight.

"Come on, girlie. Let's get ya fixed up." She whispered in Lore's ear, hauling the girl along as Lore mumbled under her breath. And as soon as they made it out of the room, Lore stopped pretending as if she was providing any strength and allowed herself to be completely supported by her attacker. And she drifted off into a blood loss-induced sleep as she was carried by Keelin, the ethereal voice caressing her gently as she slept.

Well done, Lore. I always knew you could do it.