The Dark Witch Chronicles Book One: The Curse of The Cymmerien Dragon -
Chapter Thirty Two: Hidden Virtues
Erasmus lay on the floor, writhing in what seemed like unbearable throbbing while Lord Lucifer and Azrael merely stood there with their minds vacant. The door of the cell was closed to give the three of them enough privacy, hoping that Erasmus would divulge everything. The King stood outside with his guard waiting for the session to get over. Inside, Lord Lucifer struggled to get hold of Erasmus to make him steady but nothing worked. He was shivering in pain and his eyes were tightly shut, drawing tears from them. His groans made Lord Lucifer wince. Nothing had affected him so, he wondered why Erasmus’s pain seemed so infiltrating to him. Maybe it was because he was reminded of Nicholas when he looked at Erasmus. Or maybe the pain that his apprentice felt was far too agonizing to him and he could not take it.
“M’Lord, allow me to wake him up. He’s probably experiencing a nightmare,” said Azrael, kneeling down beside Lord Lucifer who was still busy trying to get Erasmus to open his eyes.
He pushed himself away and rested his back on the wall behind, his eyes stuck on Erasmus. Azrael settled himself beside Erasmus and closed his eyes. Connecting both their minds, he pulled Erasmus out of the nightmare that he was having, using his manipulation skills. Erasmus suddenly stopped shivering. His groans turned into shallow breathing, and slowly his eyes opened. Azrael stepped away and Lord Lucifer leaned forward.
“Erasmus?” said Lord Lucifer as he held a concerned look.
None of the injuries had been cured and Erasmus still looked the way he had when he was dragged into the castle, if not worse. Erasmus blinked, his eyes switching from Azrael to Lord Lucifer.
“M’Lord-” he croaked, trying to push himself up so he could sit. Lord Lucifer placed a hand on his shoulder and shook his head.
“How are you, Erasmus?” asked Lord Lucifer, although he knew it was a silly question and the answer to that was quite obvious before him.
“Not good, I assume,” he answered, chuckling slightly.
It amazed Lord Lucifer as to how Erasmus could joke even when he was in so much pain.
“Why have you not informed the King of why you killed Lord Zachariah?” Lord Lucifer said, coming straight to the point.
There was no time to talk about anything else other than the required information.
“I didn’t think it was safe to divulge it in presence of Lord Mikhail,” replied Erasmus, his voice hoarse and crooked.
“You could have told the King in private then.”
Erasmus shook his head.
“The King would have informed Lord Mikhail. But I understand that it is pointless anyway, since Lord Mikhail will find out sooner or later by his own means.”
“Tell us, then?” Lord Lucifer raised his eyebrows.
“The King will ask you what I said. It’s not safe to speak.” Erasmus shook his head again. “Do you have a quill and a piece of parchment?” He looked at Azrael hopefully.
Azrael nodded and pulled out a quill from inside his cloak along with a tiny parchment that he carried everywhere with him, should need arise. He handed the equipment to Erasmus. With trembling hands, Erasmus pushed himself to a half-sitting position so he could write and began scribbling something on the parchment.
“Tell the King that I said nothing and keep this parchment with you until you reach the castle. Read it and then destroy it. We can’t risk anything,” he said while writing slowly on the parchment with his trembling fingers.
Lord Lucifer nodded and then took the written parchment from Erasmus before handing it to Azrael who safely hid it under his cloak.
“Is there any way that we can set you free from here?” asked Lord Lucifer.
“Lord Mikhail would never let me go if I’m not being killed for what has happened. I’m going to be tortured for eternity. Hopefully that helps killing me.” He let out a humourless chuckle. “But m’Lord, I want to stay alive until after the war gets over. I won’t be able to fight, which I apologize for, but if I can get messages through owls – I would want to keep up with whatever is going on, if it’s alright,” he replied.
“Of course, we’ll make sure the owls reach you without being detected by guards. Meanwhile I shall try my best to set you free,” Lord Lucifer said, with a slight reassuring grin before getting up.
“Be careful,” Erasmus said to Azrael and he nodded in agreement.
Moments later, they walked out of the cell and back into the dungeons. The King was seated at a distance outside an empty cell with his guards standing on either side of him. He looked up spotting the two of them coming out of Erasmus’s cell.
“Any progress?” He asked, eyebrows raised, standing up.
“No, your highness; he refuses to even open his eyes. We tried everything we could,” Lord Lucifer replied, shaking his head.
“We’ve been facing the same.” The King sighed in defeat.
“I’m sorry, your highness.” Lord Lucifer hung his head.
“We should return,” the King said.
The rest of them followed him back up to the courtroom silently. They were met with a quiet atmosphere in the court as well. Everyone stood up when the King entered. He proceeded to his throne. As soon as he was seated, Lord Mikhail stepped forward.
“I assume that there was nothing Lord Lucifer could find,” he said, his back towards Lord Lucifer and Azrael.
“I’m afraid not. But we will keep trying until he reveals everything. I presume that the war is coming soon?” the King said, raising his eyebrows and glancing back and forth between Lord Mikhail and Lord Lucifer.
“I give Lord Lucifer a fortnight to prepare. The attack will strike any time after that,” Lord Mikhail answered.
“Lord High Minister,” said the King. “Before you attack, as custom goes, should you not offer a white flag?”
“Your highness, I do not have any such arrangement in mind but since a custom has to be followed. . .” Lord Mikhail trailed off.
“A private meeting between the two of you has to take place before the battle strikes,” the King said and glanced at a silent Lord Lucifer.
“Of course, your highness,” said Lord Lucifer. “Whenever it is suitable.”
“Then I suggest that Lord Lucifer meet us in His Grace’s private courtroom tomorrow at dusk,” Lord Mikhail suggested and the King nodded in response.
“As the King commands,” Lord Lucifer bent his head in respect.
“Very well, the court is dismissed.” With that, the King stood up and left the courtroom.
Lord Lucifer retraced his steps towards the door. Azrael followed suit and the two of them left the King’s court, making their way back to the castle. Azrael left a fleeting look in Lord Mikhail’s direction before stalking out of the court.
ӿӿӿ
Amara sat in the library with Iris. She was asking her about Sienna and Iris was giving her the desired answers. After being asked to befriend Sienna and get all information that Amara desired, Iris had gotten busy with other things that restricted her from talking to Sienna directly and slowly extracting all necessary information from her, which led to Iris invading Sienna’s mind. But there was no expected result out of that.
“I invaded Erasmus’s mind,” said Iris, scratching her forehead with a sheepish look.
“Why would you invade his mind?” Amara frowned.
“Because he knows everything about everyone, and if I invaded his mind I could find out whatever you needed to know about Sienna,” Iris replied.
“He’s under imprisonment right now!” Amara protested disbelievingly.
“When I got the information, I didn’t know that he was being arrested. I just invaded his mind restricting myself from straying anywhere else and just stuck to Sienna,” she said, hoping Amara would not get angry with her for what she had done.
Of course she loathed herself for invading Erasmus’s mind when he was being arrested. Now that she knew Lord Lucifer and Azrael were back with the truth that Erasmus had given to them, she felt even worse. But it did not stop her from resuming the work, for the war was approaching and there was no time to sit and cry about things. It was time to start working.
“Alright,” Amara sighed. “What have you got?” She placed both her hands on the table in front of her and leaned forward to listen.
“She was trained by the Lord starting from the age of ten along with Erasmus and Nicholas. She started fancying Nicholas when she turned eighteen and he was about twenty then. Nicholas and Erasmus were inseparable and wouldn’t pay much attention to her. She was mostly on her own and made friends with this other witch that died for some reason that I am not aware of. Nicholas never reciprocated her feelings. Somehow they got together but then Nicholas left to travel for all tasks that he had to do and left her alone. Erasmus has tried to be there for her as a friend since. She can handle the elements of Spirit and Fire. She speaks to spirits at times; benign ones. Not being skilled in anything else as such, she has this brilliant power of handling Spirits which I think you are aware of.
“And of course, the flute. Doesn’t have anything against you but isn’t exactly fond of you. She thinks you are too cruel. But she has a lot of faith in the Lord and what he stands for, so I think she would prove useful for whatever it is that you want her to help with. And she dislikes Leandra. I don’t know why though. I didn’t think it was necessary to find out why.”
Amara nodded in understanding after Iris finished talking.
“Do you think I can trust her with something confidential?” She asked, raising her eyebrows hopefully.
“I don’t think it would be a problem. No harm.” Iris shook her head in the end.
“And will she trust me with this?”
“If you communicate through the Lord then it would prove fruitful, I think. That would give you more strength,” Iris said.
“Alright. I’ll do that.” Amara nodded and then pushed her chair back to stand up.
“You should go and get some rest. Your tiny brain is too pressured these days,” Amara said, ruffling Iris’s hair lightly before heading out of the library.
Iris sighed and then proceeded to go to her chamber while smiling slightly to herself despite the gruesome events that had been happening. Amara walked out to the woods to see Sceiron. She had not met him for a long while. As she walked further in, she heard footsteps approaching. Frowning, she walked ahead and looked around only to have her head bump into a wall. She glanced up to find Azrael standing before her. He glanced down at her bemusedly as she took a step back and away from him.
“What are you doing here?” She asked him.
“I was looking for you,” he replied, falling into step beside her as she ventured into the woods to find Sceiron.
“Why?” She asked, tilting her head to spot Sceiron somewhere.
“Any progress on Sienna?” He enquired.
“Iris tells me that if we talk to her through the Lord, maybe she would agree to the task that we want her to help us with.”
“I was thinking along the similar lines,” said Azrael.
“How is Erasmus?” She asked.
“I’ve sent some Healing Potion to him through an owl. He will be alright in a matter of time. The Lord says he’ll be our spy in the castle. It’s better to have one, and he can act as though he’s in pain. So it’s not as much of a trouble now that we know what happened between him and the sorcerer,” he told her and suddenly Amara shot up to a high branch of a tree in the matter of a single moment.
He blinked and looked at her. She was seated on the branch with a little owl settled on her arm as she stroked its head softly. Azrael smiled and then followed her up, sitting beside her carefully, for they were on quite a height. Amara turned to look at him.
“Sorry. I just hadn’t seen him in a while. I didn’t mean to ignore you,” she told him.
“He’s quite magnificent, your owl,” he replied, looking at Sceiron with adoration.
“Sceiron, oh, yes, I found him in the woods a few years ago. He had an injured wing. I mended it and since then he has been with me,” Amara said, smiling at Sceiron.
“How old is he?”
“Three years.”
She kissed Sceiron’s head softly before Sceiron settled itself on her knee.
“How old are you?” Azrael then asked with a smirk.
Amara glanced at him once before turning back to look at the vast stretched lake before them.
“What do you think?” She replied, not looking back at him.
“I would guess over two hundred?” He offered and Amara gave him a flat look.
“Do I really look that old?” She shot back.
“A bit,” he whispered.
“I’m only a hundred-and-nineteen, great sorcerer.”
“That’s it?” He said, chuckling.
And before she knew it, Amara was chuckling along with him. How long had it been since she had had a good laugh? There was no reason for her to be laughing at the moment. Just a silly joke about her age and she was laughing as though it was the last thing she would do. Why was it so easy with him? That without a single effort from his side she was ready to give in? She had smiled before because of Iris. But apart from her there was no one who could induce a single grin from Amara. Then what was it that made her laugh with Azrael?
“You should laugh more. It makes you look less intimidating,” said Azrael, when they were done cackling.
For him, it wasn’t as surprising. He knew it was always this simple with Amara. Though they had never had such a pointless conversation which induced a laugh for no apparent reason, he knew he was more comfortable with Amara than he was with anyone else. He had never had friends, he was just like her. He was intimidating and dangerous and frightening and powerful and always so grave but never had he ever felt so much at ease with anyone else. Amara was an exception. Even the silence was comforting to him. There was nothing that he would want more than to spend time with her. Whether it was for summoning spirits or talking about protecting the prophecy or just nothing in particular, he felt at ease. He had the sudden urge to smile with her, talk about pleasant things that he had not done with others before, not even with Lea for a long time.
It gave him this strange but fuzzy feeling inside whenever he was with Amara. Spending time with her made him lighter in the head. There was no stress. He did not mind silence either. There was this invisible contact established between the two of them which created a strange aura around them that neither recognized. But Azrael knew that Amara felt it as well; for he could see the clear difference between when she was with others and when she was alone with him. They had two different personalities when within the eyes of others and when they were together. Somehow he felt safe with her and so did Amara. She felt safer than she had ever felt before. It was surprisingly strange but she did not seem to mind it.
That unknown trust lingering around them gave the both of them some sort of an assurance; assurance of trusting each other with their lives. None of them were aware of it, but it was there, hidden somewhere in the back of their minds and they refused to accept it. The presence of it was felt every time they were together.
“You’re more intimidating than I am,” said Amara, breaking Azrael’s chain of thought.
He blinked and then looked at her.
“Am I? You set Fire to the woods when I arrived here. I had to get it all under control. You’re too dangerous for your own good,” he told her, rolling his eyes.
Amara grimaced at the memory of the time that she had set her woods on Fire. The shrubs and trees had started to grow back once again, but it was a slow progress. At the moment, she sat on the opposite side of the burnt part where there were enough trees and shrubs to make her feel like she did before. The wandering spirits still made their presence felt around her, and Scerion was with her which made her feel much better about herself.
“As far as I remember, you thought that I wasn’t as good of a witch as others claimed,” she said to him, raising a brow.
“That was just to test you. I found out that you were quite similar to me. Besides we’ve had mind duels as well as sword duels, so I know how strong you are. Not to mention the way you deciphered the riddles that Lady Calypsa offered when we went to see her. I have to admit, that was impressive,” he told her, amazed as he recalled the memory.
“Why thank you, sir. But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re not as dangerous as I am.” She smiled.
The snowy-white owl trotted upon Amara’s knee slowly as his eyes switched between the two of them. It seemed as though he was enjoying the conversation that was happening. Then again, so were Amara and Azrael.
“I’m not. You’re the most brilliant witch of our age. People sing your praises,” he told her.
“Who exactly has sung my praises? I’ve always wondered. Everyone tells me that they think I’m this extremely accomplished witch, but what have I even done to achieve that?” She frowned.
She was genuinely confused about why there was so much praise for her. It had always been a mystery to her since she had never made the effort to find out why. It wasn’t a matter of high concern but she was curious to know.
“Young Conjurers. They hear about you from their parents and mentors. I was in the village of Jarram a few years ago. There was a family of a sorcerer that gave me shelter for a night. I was travelling. A little witch of ten told me that her mother had sung praises of this brilliant witch called Amara from the coven of Lord Lucifer. Her mother says that you saved a group of young witches that were being attacked by a few lions in the mountains of Carvelli. You destroyed many witch-hunters all by yourself when they were in force years ago. You ended the realm of dangerous warlocks that were terrorizing Acanthus. You saved Lord Mikhail when he was being attacked by ten witch-hunters at the same time – yet he still wants you dead – you-”
“Alright, I think that is enough for now. I didn’t do all of that alone. I had help. The Lord was mostly there with me and there were others from our coven too,” Amara cut him off when it went beyond her expectations.
She did not wish to hear all of those things. To her, none of those deeds sounded great enough to be sung praises of.
“Yes, but you were the one that did most of the work. If you want to be so modest then I have something that would make you feel quite better. I’ve also heard that you are far too cold while killing. And you don’t like being around people much. Once when a young sorcerer tried to make fun of this other witch, you gave him such an intimidating look that it frightened him to no limit and he never spoke to that female again; nor did he ever face you, for that matter,” he chuckled as he said that. “They have seen you slay doves, which stabbed their hearts into pieces but you had not a single ounce of pain on your face as you did that. You also-”
“Azrael?” She said softly, cutting him off.
“Yes?” He whispered back with his eyebrows raised.
“You may stop talking about me now,” she told him and Azrael laughed lightly, shaking his head.
“My point is, Amara, you don’t know how brilliant yet dangerous you are,” he told her in all seriousness.
His eyes were now fixed on Amara as she stared back at him with equal intensity. “And you’re far too beautiful, of which you aren’t aware either,” he then whispered so softly that it was unheard.
But Amara could hear every word, every syllable that he had said to her. And it gave her these extremely strange and never experienced chills through her spine as she listened to him. That feeling was something she had not known before, and it made her feel alive inside every part of her. Sceiron hooted from where he was seated on Amara’s knee and both of their eyes snapped away from one another. Amara blinked once. . .twice. . .thrice to register what had just happened and she could not believe it. How long had it been since someone had so genuinely talked about her right in front of her, without a single worry about how she would react? Not only had Azrael talked highly of her, he had not hesitated in telling her how cold and ruthless she behaved at times. And it did not bother her for a single moment.
She turned to look at him after a long while of silence and smiled. Azrael returned the smile with one of his own and then the two of them retreated to the ground, leaving Sceiron on the branch; for the wind was too chilly up there. They decided to sit under the tree for a while before going back to the castle. But as the night became darker and the moon shone above them in all its grace, Amara and Azrael continued to talk about all kinds of pointless things that made them feel so much better given everything that was going on lately.
“Why did you have to save Lord Mikhail from a few witch-hunters and why does he dislike you this much to have declared war?” Azrael asked as Amara twiddled with the grass beside her bare feet.
“It happened in the mountains of Lunaire,” Amara said. “I was assisting Soter and Lilienne in collecting some herbs for a few potions when we realized that there were witch-hunters in the vicinity. I left the work and found Lord Mikhail and a few other Ministers there battling about twenty witch-hunters. Lord Mikhail was trapped between ten of them and the rest of the Ministers were busy trying to save themselves. I helped him and killed most of the hunters, which for some reason infuriated Lord Mikhail and the Ministers. The Lord later told me that it was because they were ashamed of themselves since they couldn’t help their High Minister and had to take help of a young witch to save them. So apparently, he isn’t fond of me.” She shrugged in the end.
“He dislikes you because you’re more powerful than him and the other Ministers combined, which is why he declared war,” Azrael concluded. “See, this is why people sing praises.” He smirked.
“Our coven is more powerful than his. That is why he wants to destroy us,” Amara said truthfully. “That and he also has an ulterior motive of gaining the prophecy...”
“People sing your praises, not the coven’s.”
“There
is nothing to be sung praises of!” Amara sighed in exasperation.
“Let me elaborate...”
And so, the pressure of the war and the protection of the prophecy escaped their minds for those few hours as they sat under the tree, both of their backs resting on the huge bark of the Giant Sequoia. None of them realized when their eyes shut themselves on their own accord, and Amara’s head fell onto Azrael’s shoulder as they drifted off into the most peaceful sleep that they had had in a long while.
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