Whispers From the Dark

The Witch and the Demon

"You lost my sword, Lillian?"

The demon bitch had been hounding her for the last century.  "It's not lost, Aslozoth."

"Then, let me amend the charge, witch," Aslozoth's eyes burned red.  "You stole my sword, Lillian?"

                                                                         *****  

 Lillian wielded the mortar with increased vigor as the odor of char enveloped her.

Aslozoth pressed against Lillian's back, peering over her shoulder into the pestle. She absently ran clawed fingers down Lillian's arm, across her belly, tracing ever widening circles. Lillian shuddered with longing as the other hand slid from shoulder to hip.

"What potion is this, Witch?"  

"Nothing special, Demon."

"You would banish me?"  Aslozoth's whisper threatened to blister the skin of her neck. "Haven't I taught you...everything?"  

Lillian hesitated, then spat, invoking the spell. 

 Aslozoth's fading chuckle taunted her. "I'll be waiting for your call, Lillian."

                                                                        *****        

Lillian congratulated herself on accomplishing the spell to banish Aslozoth.  When Lillian had first called her up, she'd been pleased to see a feminine demon.  She'd thought that would make the control easier.  

Far from it.  Aslozoth had an agenda all her own.  It hadn't taken long for her to exert control over Lillian.  It was a subtle seduction, leaving Lillian breathless in the power of the magic she was shown.  Each new spell required levels of ecstasy she had never thought she could attain.  Each lesson accompanied by a touch, caress, stroke, evoking a physical addiction.

Yet, Lillian was satisfied.  Until she spied the sword.  The demon's blade that could buy her the allegiance of the chief of the strongest clan on the moors.  An allegiance to fulfill a different lust.  Power over a nation.

Aslozoth's laugh at her plan was a cruel noise in her ears.  

A witch of lesser will would have ducked her head and continued to be the demon's pet.  

A witch of lesser will would never think to steal a demon's blade.

Lillian had a will of iron as hard as the sword she coveted.

                                                                         *******

Lillian scurried from the tent quickly, the ancient text secured under her robes.  Her potion had worked, but how long it would hold the wizard?  

He'd only been fooled by her wide eyed wish to learn the healing arts until he'd caught her pawing through the scrolls and tablets he kept in a private part of the huge tent.  She’d fastened her eyes on the ground at his feet, pretending remorse as he lectured her about delving into things she knew nothing about.

The only remorse she felt was for being caught, she'd found the text she wanted.  And an opportunity to spike the evening tea. 

Hours later, Lillian felt victorious as she drove the stolen camel across the sand. She could make out the wall of an old settlement in the distance.  Strangely, it seemed to be hurrying toward her faster than the camel's pace accounted for.  

Too late, she realized, it was a wall, but not of a town. With a roar, the wizard's sandstorm enveloped her, scraping her exposed skin raw in seconds.  

Her throat filling with the scouring grains, she managed to spit out the name she had hoped to never use again.

 “Aslozoth!”

                                                                         *****

A girl returned to her homeland after years of wandering, hiding from the voice that was always in her head.  Years searching for a way to free herself from Lillian's grasp. Years and a seemingly endless desert journey to find the answer now tucked in her pack. 

 She had barely touched the ground of her birthplace when the witch confronted her.

"Annag, you've finally come back to me. There was no other choice, you know. You must always come back to me."

She almost lost the nerve she'd summoned at the old witch's voice.

Lillian sneered, "You must remember who you owe your life to, girl. Everything will be alright now."

Those last words triggered the desperation, the hatred and fear. Reaching into her pack, her fingers gripped a dull green orb.

As she pulled it out, balanced on the palm of her hand, the chant she'd learned from the old wizard began to flow from her terror dried lips. The words in an ancient, forgotten language.

Lillian looked at her with mild curiosity. "What game do you pretend to play, child?  What gibberish is this?" Then her eyes widened in shock, her jaw opened to utter a scream of denial as the stone began to glow. 

There came no scream, the old witch was still, frozen by the power of the conjure. The glow became a pulse, with each beat Lillian began to fade.

When the words stopped, Lillian was gone. The girl held the stone in shaking hands. She felt drained, almost as faded as the witch had been.

When she finally looked at the surface of the orb. It was dull green once again. But, as she studied it closer, deep within, she could see a ghostly image of the witch, her eyes wide, her mouth stretched in an eternal, silent shriek.

                                                                        *****        

Aslozoth reached into the murky bog.  As her clawed fingers raked through the muck at the bottom, she casually admired the red glow of her eyes reflecting from the greasy water. 

Finally her hand closed around the object of her search. She settled on the squelching bank, examining her treasure.

The dull, green orb weighed heavy in her grip. She turned it round slowly, peering at the pattern just beneath the surface.

"There you are, Lillian!"  The demon drew one razor sharp claw down the stone.  "Who's dirty work is this?  That is some potent magic.  Now... how to get you out?"

 *