Embedded Emerald in Gold fire

Inside a mind - 8

Mardaniel saw her drift into a slumber, her weak attempt to get comfortable miserably failing. It looked awfully stiff the way she leaned against a tree, threatened to slide down or fall to the side as soon as she would only slightly move. The thought crossed his mind, the need arouse in him to go to her, to help her. His mind continued spinning and more images emerged. He saw himself bending down, could almost feel himself picking her up and walking to his own furs with her. Would she resist? Would she lay a hand onto his chest and feel his heartbeat, his heartbeat that was speeding up with only the thought?

The images pushed themselves onto him so violently, he groaned in distress. This had to stop! How was she doing it? How was she compelling his mind with such force when she looked close to dying from exhaustion? The following feeling was fear. What was she capable of? Was it true what he had heard about witches? Could they bewitch heart and mind of a man, drive them mad and into craziness before ripping out his heart? Were the stories true men used to tell about witches?

It had been a few winters since he last heard one of them, back when he was just a soldier in a large army he would sit with the other men around a fire and they would tell stories, stories of fights and war, welodas and victories and witches. Every time the topic arose someone would snort, doubting the trustworthiness of the man instantly. Witches were rare, only few existed and even less were seen. But the whole group had listened nevertheless, enchanted by the magical being.

She was so beautiful I could not pry my eyes from her, her hair black like a moonless night sky and her skin ivory. She moved with such elegance I believed she was dancing. But everywhere she stepped ice arose from somewhere, even in the hottest summer her breath would freeze the rain. Her eyes were crystal clear and blue like frozen water and she would stare at me with such hatred, I believed she thought about strangling me each time she did.

All that beauty and yet each word was venom, each syllable pure hate and filled with a fire so unlike her. Her voice could shatter ice. We kept her in a cell, she was ordered to not harm her guard, was ordered to not speak with us and she did even though I saw her trying to break that order, saw her struggle and throw up blood from thinking about it.

One day a man stepped into her cell to get her to her master, he was another soldier, ordered to get her. She had his throat in her hands before I could blink, her fingernails slicing his skin open. She smiled as the blood ran down his throat, smiled at his attempt to flee. She looked straight at me before she bend down to kiss him. I did not know what was happening, but he dropped dead to the ground. She sucked his life right out of him, left only the corps. I am telling you witches feed off souls, they live to kill and strive with the devastation they bring to this world.

Mardaniel remembered the shudder running through the man who told the story, the fear and yet the adoration with which he talked about her, as if whatever she did could never hinder him from finding her appealing. She sucked his life right out of him those words were stuck with him, stuck in the very mind that seemed to compel him to aid Kara and the only reason he did not. She should rest as uncomfortably as she may, he would not be the one to care, he would not end up like the man – awestruck and drawn to a beast.

"What are we doing with her? She cannot rest like that" Cudar said in a low voice as Mardaniel began to rid himself of his belt. "Leave her, I could not care less about her stiffened muscles or bad nights rest" he answered, putting all the disgust in his voice to mask the slight tremble. Cudar rose an eyebrow and then squinted his eyes. Had not Mardaniel been the one to be so drawn to Kara just one sunrise ago? Had Cudar himself not worried about his friend causing a mess on the journey due to getting too close to her?