The Truth Over The Wall

Chapter 32

There was quiet as the story ended and the words scattered into the silence, looking for cover because Dominic's fury - which was growing with every detail that unfolded - was almost palpable by this time.

But by a conscious and exhausting effort he was able to set it aside for a later time. For now, he kept a gentle hold on Amara's hand, and asked without turning around to face them.

"Lord Arnold," His voice was choked, "is she...?"

"No, my Lord!" Lord Arnold exclaimed, shocked. He could not be sure what it was that Dominic had meant to ask, he only knew that he had reacted violently against his own internal doubts.

Is she dying?

No, Lord Arnold thought shaking his head at himself. "I am persuaded, my Lord, that by pushing against the boundaries of her...powers, the lady has tired herself. Yes, that's right." He said with a nod. "And in time with sufficient rest she will recover."

Dominic sighed and closed his eyes. He knew these words to be mere reassurances and that Lord Arnold had aimed them – sadly – not at the room at large but at himself.

It appeared that Dominic would have to play the sage old man to Lord Arnold's blind optimism, or even, fervent hope.

He turned Amara's right hand upward and traced the rough lines of the bandage across her palm with his thumb. She had only just begun to recover from the insignificant cut Hanalea had made all those days ago. How was she supposed to pull through from something like this?

"She'll get better." Dominic was surprised to hear Alistair chime in. He had really expected him to be more sensible.

Dominic looked up and over his shoulder to gauge Alistair's vehemence. Hanalea stood with her arms crossed over her chest, and her head tilted towards the ground.

When she sensed Dominic watching her, she turned her face away and shook her head. At least someone understands, Dominic thought.

"And how can you say that with such certainty, Lieutenant?" Dominic was morose, concerned. He could not allow himself to entertain any such hope that might crush him in the aftermath. There were too many people depending on him. But at the same time, he was not willing to face this loss. And so he would hear out every argument that told him it was not true, that she was merely tired and she would heal. And she would wake up and speak.

"Because of what I've seen today with my own eyes!" Alistair threw his arm out, astonished, "Because of what you've probably guessed by now; Amara's no ordinary witch. Even without proper training she took down not just an Elder witch but also three gremlins, all in one fell swoop.

"And why would the witches bother engaging her in the first place," Alistair's face was flushed with the fervency of his words. Memories of the night Ellie was hunted down were clawing and raging within his inner sight, fighting to be seen and acknowledged.

"I think," Alistair paused for breath both to calm himself and to orient his thoughts, "I think that they wanted to eliminate her before she became a threat to them. I think they attacked her for the same reason the witch murdered my mother; I think that Amara might be a Grand witch."

Not everyone knew what a Grand witch was; there being so few of them ever born, and so far in between... Most just disappeared soundlessly into the dusty, undisturbed chronicles of history.

A Grand witch – in essence – was a Queen witch, one marked by nature with extraordinary powers, and the innate ability to command. A Grand witch furthermore could be powerfully persuasive and influential, if she applied herself to it. That is not to say that each Grand witch rose up to become a Queen.