Elemental Witch: Child of the Earth (Part I)

Torture

She couldn't breathe.

She was freezing here in this dark stone cellar, soaked to the bone, metal biting into her wrists and ankles as a hand held her head backwards, a wet cloth clogged her nose and mouth and another form poured icy water over her head. It was overwhelming, so much so that the weather outside had turned from warm, soft summer to an angry dark storm in response to the battle that was going on within her. Everything within her body screamed at her to fight back, to resist, because she could not breathe. It was the Wild part of her that ripped at the cage she had put it in, telling her to fight and kill.  Verana lost track of time and could barely hold on to any semblance of sense as her body told her that she was drowning, suffocating, dying. 

She had a mission that needed the humans, Verana had spent seventy years honing the control over her killing instinct and keeping her inner calm centred and in control. The only part she managed to do was to keep her body from reacting and killing whomever was with her, trying to kill her.  She could not kill the humans, she could not scare the humans. She needed the humans. 

 All else was lost. Verana's emotions took control of her powers and their connection to the world beyond the dungeon she was in. There was nothing left out of her self control to keep her emotions from running rampant outside . Her people were watching in the trees and they had gotten better and better at sensing when the weather was a result of her mood. 

How violent would the storm have to get before they acted? Would they act?

There had always been that inkling of doubt, that voice telling her that they had sent her out here knowing that she would be caught and killed. They wanted to get rid of her, freak of nature that she was; this made up mission from a thousand years ago was the best way of doing it. Humans were murderers. It was a simple as that. No one would weep when she didn't return, she was a freak. A dangerous outsider living amongst them. Finally removed.

The water stopped and was followed by a sharp slap across the face that brought blood into her mouth and caused her head to spin. She was wrenched up from her reclined position so violently that the room began to spin even as she coughed out water so hard she was nearly ill. Her body heaved as she dragged in breaths desperately, trying to get her mind back into working order as she took in the people in front of her.

 The metal man no longer wore the shiny armour and instead was wearing tight black pants and a billowy grey cotton shirt. He had returned after leaving her with two others, who had been trying to get her to talk, for hours. Now he was well rested and worried. The day had dawned and  with every hour that passed, the city tensed in anticipation for his brother's return.

It was easy to learn about the humans when she had a mind to settle her thoughts and listen. And she had listened in between sessions that had involved her being held upside down and smothered by water. Where had the humans come up with such a horrible thing to do to someone? 

Verana could make out the frustration in his voice, fuelled by the desire to prove himself. He was just trying to do the right thing, he wanted this day to be flawless and she had ruined his plans. He was uncertain, scared of what her presence meant, knowing that it had not happened in known history. He was overwhelmed and underprepared for the implications of it. He was a child trying to live up to something he didn't understand enough to emulate. He was fighting his Path, out of desire to be on someone else's. If she hadn't wanted to kill him right at that moment, she would pity him.

Verana felt sorry for him; the second son, the one who had nowhere to go or and nothing of his own to do. The world had no use for either of them, perhaps.

"Are you here to murder the King?"

She blinked, turning her eyes to his, watching him for a long moment and opening her mouth to respond only to find herself interrupted by the clang of a heavy door swinging open.

"My Lord! Your brother and the King have just been seen on the road. You barely have time to get upstairs to change before they'll be wanting to see you." The old, calm voice was back, dressed in human finery, though still with weapons strapped to his person. 

The man's jaw was clenched as he stood in the doorway, taking in the scene in front of him. He was not happy with this. Perhaps not all humans were as cruel as these three. Metal man blinked at her before shaking his head and turning to stride out the door. He was gone, followed by the two torturers who had been keeping her company through the long, painful hours of the night.

 It was silent for a long time, as she fought to control her shivering and anger, glaring at the man who had remained in the doorway.

"Don't... blame him... he does not truly understand what he does. You being here, today, scares everyone."

She blinked and forced herself to mimic his calm, level stare, " This is an auspicious start to the renewal of our truce, it causes me to wonder why we have suffered your presence here so long."

"You do speak our language..." he frowned softly, watching her for a long moment, before shaking his head, "Your blades, they're beautiful. Our stories say that you fight with sticks and rocks, and claws and teeth. If I was a betting man, I would say that the same craftsman who made your swords, made Lord Shelby's ancestral blades."

"If what you say is true, then it is him I need to speak with. He is the older brother?" She hoped that was true, she felt it was true, that this was where she needed to be. 

She needed to speak with the Keeper of the sword, the descendant of those who had built the truce to begin with. She wanted desperately for it to not be the scared little child who had just tried to torture a false truth out of her.

"Lord Shelby is the liege of this Keep, the city, and a thousand leagues in every direction. From the woods to the sea, from the river to the mountains. If you need to talk about that land, then he's the man you need to talk to. But yes, Lord Shelby is the one returning."

Relief flooded through her for a moment and she smiled tiredly. "What I have to speak of regards this entire island, but he is the one we deal with. He inherited that duty."

The man offered a thoughtful smile as he watched her, his eyes crinkling with amusement, "I've been around long enough to know that he isn't aware of this duty you speak of. But... just understand, if its the entire kingdom, you may want to include the King in your considerations. Shelby is the King's man."

"This King... this is the man who is also here today?" Verana mulled it over, trying to settle the Human concepts in her mind. 

She had learned about their Kingdom, their society and class systems. There were things she didn't quite understand, couldn't stomach about their concepts, but she understood that she had to work within them. Not everyone would be like the Feysha, she knew that.

"Yes. He was just crowned. His father passed away a couple months ago and he inherited the Kingdom. Shelby and him were good friends, I trained them both to fight. They're both good men." He almost sounded as if he were pleading with her, trying to bargain for her understanding of them. For her mercy in the interactions to come.

Verana paused and listened to the stone walls echo with activity. All around her she heard yelling and talking, laughter and movement. The air from above seeped in through the open door, smelling of more people, of cooking food and sweaty animals. "They're all in the Keep now. I can hear the people and horses up above. You are probably needed. I will wait here until they decide to speak with me."

"That's five levels above us." Came the astonished reply, but he only paused a moment more before nodding and turning out the door. 

It closed and locked behind him, leaving her alone in the darkness as the storm that had been raging all night began to dissipate, thunder rolling off into the distance as quickly as it had appeared.