The Stone Keeper's Quest- Elrich
Chapter 8

Queen Witch Moribund struggled to fall asleep as her restless thoughts kept her awake. She had tried to calm her mind with diplomacy, but it was no use. The sun was rising and she had not heard a knock on her door all night. She knew what that meant. Her brief time as a mother was over. She felt a surge of fear as her plump body tensed up.

She felt a heavy weight on her chest as she forced herself to get out of bed. She shuffled to the oval-shaped wall mirror and saw her tired face. Her eyelids were wrinkled and droopy, her eyes were red and puffy, and the dark circles were prominent. She wiped the sleep from her eyes, smoothed her hair back and applied hog-lad to her face.

Queen Witch Moribund summoned the Grand Witches. They arrived in an instant. She spoke with a grave tone. “Today, Kiara and my daughter will be executed at the market square.”

She let her words sink in. “I have to see it with my own eyes,” She said.

One of the Grand Witches tried to protest. “My queen, I don’t think it---” But Evanora cut her off. “We will stand by you, my Queen,” she said, glancing at the others for support.

First Commander Zachary greeted the king with a respectful bow. ‘Good morning, Sire.’ He hoped his voice did not betray his nervousness.

King Gilfillan II looked up from his desk, his face grim. ‘The morning is far from good, commander. Do you know what happened last night?’ He tossed a parchment on the desk, stained with blood.

‘Yes, Sire. I have received the report. Witches infiltrated the compound and killed thirteen of our finest archers. It was a terrible tragedy.’ Zachary felt a pang of guilt and sorrow for the fallen soldiers.

King Gilfillan slammed his fist on the table, making the maps and papers flutter. ‘A tragedy that could have been prevented! How did they get past your security? How did you let this happen?’ He fixed Zachary with a furious gaze.

First Commander Zachary lowered his eyes. ‘I have no excuse, Sire. It was a failure of our vigilance. They caught us off guard.’ He braced himself for the king’s wrath.

‘You are lucky I won’t have you executed for your incompetence,’ King Gilfillan snapped. ‘You are my best commander, but you have disappointed me greatly.’ He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.

‘I am deeply sorry, Sire. It will not happen again. I swear it,’ said First Commander Zachary. The commander lowered his head and clenched his jaw. He wished he could undo the night’s events.

‘You better make sure it doesn’t. I want your best men on guard at the execution today. The people need to see that we have a strong army that can protect them from these witches,’ said King Gilfillan II. He glared at Zachary with cold eyes, then waved his hand dismissively.

‘Yes, Sire. I will do as you command.’ First Commander Zachary bowed again and backed out of the room. He felt a heavy weight on his shoulders as he left the king’s presence.

The king’s messengers rode swiftly through the dusty roads of Wiltshire, shouting at the top of their lungs, “By royal decree, all citizens of Wiltshire must witness the execution of a witch at the market square today at noon.”

The news spread like wildfire among the villagers, who flocked to the market square in droves. The crowd of men and women grew thick and dense. They pushed and shoved their way to the front row, like a pack of wild animals.

First Commander Zachary ordered, “Bring the witches to the market square. The people are waiting.” Three soldiers rushed to the dungeons.

“We need to bind them,” one of them said. He reached for Kiara’s hands and recoiled. “She’s dead,” he announced. His voice was shaky, he wiped his sweaty forehead.

“She bled out,” the second soldier confirmed, pointing at the dried blood that stained the concrete floor.

“Kiara! Kiara! Kiara!” Madeleine cried out. She glared at the soldiers with fury and grief. Tears streamed down her face and she sobbed uncontrollably.

“You killed her! You let her bleed to death, you beasts!” she accused. She struggled to free herself and hold Kiara, but the soldiers pinned her down harder. She spat at them and cursed them with every word she knew.

The first soldier asked, “What about the dead one?” He looked at his superior nervously, hoping he wouldn’t have to carry a corpse.

“She stays here, it’s not like she has any wedding plans,” the second soldier replied sarcastically. He kicked Kiara’s body and laughed cruelly.

As soon as they saw Madeleine limp towards the podium, the cruel and dirty crowd shouted insults at her. Madeleine paused, turned around and looked at the people when she reached an iron pole. Her face showed no emotion, as if she had given up on everything. The heartless crowd threw vegetables and fruits at her, while the soldiers watched like judges and executioners.

The soldier slipped the noose over her head and secured her neck and body to the metal post. He stepped back to let the town executioner take over. “This girl, barely more than a child, is accused of the crime of practicing witchcraft and—” he announced.

A man from the crowd shouted, ‘Where are our daughters?’ brandishing a pitchfork. He glared at Madeleine with hatred and fear in his eyes.

A woman from the crowd screamed, ‘She deserves to burn!’ throwing a fist size orange at Madeleine. The orange hit Madeleine’s cheek, leaving a bruise and a sticky stain.

The executioner yanked Madeleine’s chin up, forcing her to look at him. “You heard the man answer the question,” he sneered. She felt her knees buckle, but the executioner held her up with a cruel grip.

“Consider them as good as dead, “Madeleine declared, inhaling deeply after every word.

“Speak up! We don’t have all day,” the executioner snapped.

“Your girls have become what you passionately hate and burn,” said Madeleine yelling at the top of her voice.

The crowd erupted in a furious chant of “Burn her! Burn her!” as they waved their clenched fists in the air. The executioner grabbed a metal can of crude oil and drenched Madeleine from her tangled brown hair to her feet. He tossed the can aside and pulled out a flaming torch from its holder.

With a furious scowl, Queen Witch Moribund observed the scene. She and her grand witches hid their faces under the hoods of their long coats, blending in with the crowd. Queen Witch Moribund reached for her magic wand inside her coat, her hand trembling with rage.

Evanora seized her hand. “My queen, we have no chance against them. If we fight, we will die,” she said, releasing her grip slowly.

“How can you ask me to stand idle while they burn my only daughter alive?” Queen Witch Moribund hissed through gritted teeth.

Evanora said, “We will have our revenge, my queen. And when that day comes, I will let go of your hand.” She squeezed Queen Witch Moribund’s hand reassuringly.

The town executioner declared, “By the king’s decree, you are guilty of witchcraft and condemned to die by fire.” He raised the torch high above his head and brought it down towards Madeleine’s oil-soaked body.

The flames roared and devoured her hair, leaving her scalp bare. Madeleine twisted and shrieked in unbearable pain as the fire ripped through her skin, revealing the white bones underneath.

A tantalizing aroma of roasted meat filled the air, as faint as the scent of a primrose. The flesh split open and released its fat, which the hungry flames eagerly devoured, growing more furious.

The crowd fled in all directions like a pack of hyenas chased away by the true hunter. A fire had erupted among them, following a set course that scorched the earth and left a dark mark. The fire faded away, calming the chaos. The town executioner stared in awe, reading the words written in black for everyone to see: “THE BATTLE LINES ARE DRAWN GILFILLAN.”

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