Elora Danan

Chapter 7

The witch's hut was small, dark yet surprisingly welcoming. They entered after one knock and heard the beckoning old voice from behind the heavy door. Crossing the landing Elora was met with the most pungent of smells. It smelled like roots, pumpkin and a faint manure. She was glad her stomach was full and discretely began breathing through her mouth as she grew accustomed to it. Robert was noticeably taken by the surroundings and he paused to pretend to look at something on a table top.

Turning to them every so slightly, the old woman revealed several missing teeth through a half-hearted grin, frayed gray hair, a thin face and grayish green eyes. She was not unlike most witches Elora had met yet there was something piercing about her eyes as she laid her gaze upon Robert, then Elora.

"You're betrothed," the witch began, a voice as long and drawled out as the pungent air.

"So I've been told," Elora replied, slightly surprised at the first words of choice for the witch. She flicked a glance at Robert.

"To a strong man," the witch continued.

"Never met him."

"But are you strong? You had a curse nearly kill you. This was long ago," the witch trailed off. "But you do need to create an heir with your betrothed, yes?"

"I'm sorry?" No person had ever spoken to Elora Dannon, princess of Teeraslee, about that.

"We're only here for the fingammit potion," Robert interjected. Elora eyed Robert suspiciously and he just shook his head, letting out an audible sigh.

"The potion must be used within these four walls. Come to my conjuring table."

"We really must away," Robert insisted.

"Now!"

They made their way over to a dusty, crooked table which was really just four pieces of thick wood strapped together by ropes at either end. The witch turned around with an armful of bottles and placed them on the wood.

"The potion contains ingredients nearly centuries old. Only my four enchanted walls keep it from being cursed. Now, who of you will communicate?"

"I will," said Robert, opposite the table from Elora. The witch stood at Elora's side.

"You're the brother then, I take it," she said, then without allowing him to respond, "Very well, have you an object?"

The thunder roared above the straw roof and Elora saw a few creatures who had been clinging to the shadows stir with fright. A few raindrops fell from the gaps above and Elora took a step over, closer to the witch. The candlelight burned furiously and a gust of wind could be heard accosting the outer walls.

Robert handed his military ring to the woman who set it down gently in the centre of the table.

Martigan paced his drawing room, while Sorsha looked on, catatonic from worry over her husband and daughter. Vlad returned into the room, carrying his Doppelglass and a stern expression.

"I have heard no more," he explained firmly.

"Damn!" Martigan cried. "Vlad, I know he's your son, but he's violated our alliance and is risking the life of my only child!"

"If anyone can protect Elora, it's Robert," Vlad interjected.

"Is that so? And what about her betrothed?!"

"Robert is doing Airc a great service if they succeed."

"If?" Sorsha muttered, and Martigan sat down beside her, taking her hand in his and sighing heavily.