The Warlord

Chapter 4: Lorelei

I start to head back to my cottage in the woods, on the edge of Koraness. After the cheers finally faded, I slip into the slowly dispersing crowd, making sure to become nothing more than a shadow. Once I check that everyone is back to normal, I creep into the alley of Scalerine Street, where a simple herb shop stands in the corner, dwarfed by the huge, booming fish markets. Scampering across the cobblestone pavement, only the rustle of my straw bag against my cloak can be heard. Taking off one of the two necklaces dangling on me, I angle the key and insert it into the keyhole of the shop's purple door. 

Mid-twist, something jerks me back, and I lose my grip on the key as strong hands tug me back by my shoulders. Chalk and gemstones spill out of my basket, but my scream is cut off when someone clamps a dirty rag over my mouth before tying it into a gag. Panic and shock course through me, and I feebly struggle as the assailant begins to bind me with a thick rope. My heart is beating wildly as I whip my head back and forth, trying to figure out what is going on. Is this a kidnapping? A killing? My stomach plummets at the thought, but I do not have time to ponder it before the assailant clenches me and holds me in place.

Specks of tears are in my eyes as I kick and thrash and try to scream, but I am too weak, too small. What is happening? What is happening? What is happening? My mind reels in terror as I try to find a hint of what is going on. The alley is too dark for me to see, but I hear a second presence. A few quick, light footsteps, and then something sharp and metallic is at my throat.

I go absolutely still as the blade presses against my skin. Not deep enough to draw blood, but deep enough to incite more fear and pain. My breaths become shallow, and my mind blanks out as dread blooms in my chest.

"We've been watching you for days, miss." An oily, slithering voice comes from the shadows, from the person holding the knife to my neck. "So strange, how one can only find you at the market, buying your chalk," I hear something being crushed, and in the darkness, I make out white powder. "Your candles," A squish, and the smell of wax rises into the air. Stop. "Your herbs," The crinkle of a plastic packet. Stop. Stop. "And your gemstones." A quick movement, and a pouch is skittering down the alley. Stop. Stop. Stop. My throat contracts, ready to release a scream that will reach the heavens, but the blade stops me. The cold, cruel, blade.

"Ah-ah-ah, miss. One move, one sound, and-" The hand drags the knife across my neck, letting the point of it press against my soft skin. "We're interested in you, miss. Do you know what we call those like you? Those that live shrouded in mystery, those that we know nothing about, those that we find strange and almost repulsive?" I begin to tremble as realization dawns on me. They are here to kidnap me, to auction me away, to make money off of me. "Witches, miss. We call you witches. And do you know where you fanatical, god-worshipping psychopaths go?" A pause, and I can almost see the sneer drawing itself on the assailant's face. "The Witch Trade, miss."

The knife lifts away from my neck, but before I can try to pull away and struggle, a second rag clamps down on my mouth. Before I know it, I have taken in a breath of the sickly sweet scent, and it sends my head into a spiral. No. No. No. I try to hold my breath, but the sleeping gas has already started to take effect. I feel my limbs go limp, and a fog creeps into my head. My eyes start to feel heavy, and even though I try to lift my head and resist, I slump in my captor's arms. Please, help me. I try to pray to the gods, to the warm voice that guided me from my altar in those dark times, but I only slip into unconsciousness even faster. Please.