The Burning Witch 3: A Humorous Romantic Fantasy

CHAPTER 41 THE BLACKSMITH’S BENEFIT

Kat barely managed to cover her mouth as her twenty-fourth yawn of the day claimed her. Despite this, she did not falter in her stride as she and Eric made their way down the alleyway toward the blacksmith’s shop in Vessa.

There was a damp smell in the warming air that teased of the coming spring, which would normally have Kat feeling rejuvenated and excited … yet this time it only made her body feel heavier.

“After this, you are going to bed and you aren’t leaving our chamber until tomorrow at luncheon hour,” Eric informed his wife firmly.

“Gods, don’t say that. That’ll be torture!”

“Hardly. You need to catch up on rest. As impressive as your endurance has always been, you’ve hit your limit. If there is a battle in the next few weeks, you need to be ready. And if you insist on pushing yourself, I’ll make sure you’re locked in a cell.”

“What a loving husband you are.”

“It’ll be the best cell money can buy.”

“Still not better, but fine, fine. I’ll go back and rest, but if I wake up tomorrow morning feeling like myself, I want to be able to leave. We still haven’t heard anything about Likon, and His Majesty is talking about trying to persuade members of the Coven of Aguas to help should any magical beasts attack—you know that could make a massive difference in how the witches are perceived by everyone in Troivack.”

“Gods, look at you. Being responsible and enjoying working as a noble.” Eric raised an eyebrow at her with a wry grin.

Kat stuck her tongue out at him, making him laugh.

“Good to see you aren’t entirely different.”

“I heard my da went through a similar change when he first was ennobled … Though everyone lately keeps saying I’m like my mum …”

“Believe it or not, you can have traits from both parents.” Eric knocked on the door of the blacksmith’s shop.

“You sure are snarky today,” Kat remarked while eyeing Eric up and down. “What died in your ale?”

The prince ignored her and continued waiting by the front door.

When no movement came from inside, Eric knocked again.

Kat sniffed in the cold as they stood silently.

At last, the door opened and revealed … a shriveled old woman.

Her long white hair was unkempt, and her back hunched, bringing her closer to the ground.

“Err … Hello. I’m here because Dimitri has been asking for a meeting for … well a long time, I suppose.” Kat awkwardly showed the rolled message that the blacksmith had sent most recently.

The woman didn’t bother introducing herself and instead snatched the parchment from Kat’s hand and unfurled it.

She scowled at the message, then looked up at the couple, her brown eyes sharp. “It’s taken you long enough. He’s been waiting for you before fleeing to Daxaria.”

Kat straightened in alarm.

“Why is he fleeing to Daxaria?” Eric interjected with a frown.

The woman didn’t answer, merely rolled her eyes and made an irritable sound before turning back to the shop and disappearing inside, then closing the door in their faces.

Looking at Eric, Kat made sure to lower her voice. “Do you think this has anything to do with the devil? Didn’t you say he approached you the last time you were in Vessa? What if he has been following you every time you come into town?”

Eric didn’t have time to answer his wife’s speculations before the old woman reappeared, only this time she was wearing a gray traveling cloak.

“This way.” She waved to them as she shuffled toward the end of the alley.

“Pardon me, ma’am, but what is your name?” Eric queried politely while he and Kat fell in step easily behind her.

“I’m not telling either of you that,” she bit out hostilely. “You two are more trouble than you’re worth.”

Neither Eric nor Kat bothered trying to argue the point.

Instead, they proceeded to allow her to take them to the end of the alley, where there was nothing but a stone wall spanning three stories high and two stone buildings parallel to each other with windows boarded shut.

Kat was starting to wonder if the woman was perhaps unaware of her surroundings, when she let out a short, shrill whistle, followed by an imitation of a pigeon call …

One of the boarded windows to the left creaked open.

The woman nodded to it as though it were obvious what they should do.

“Do all those boards swing open?” Eric asked slowly.

The elder glared up at him. “Figure it out for yourself but keep quiet.”

She then stormed off as abruptly as she had come.

While the prince stared after her, amazed at her feisty yet rude attitude, Kat was already stepping forward to investigate the boarded window.

She gave it a small push and watched as, sure enough, the boards all swung open as though it were a shoddy shutter.

Kat leaned in carefully and peered around the darkened room.

Thanks to her golden eyes being able to see through the darkness, she easily found Dimitri sitting beside a fire that was little more than embers, a goblet clasped in hand.

Waving her hand, Kat drew Eric’s attention while already sidling up to the wall, then hoisting herself up and over the window ledge to enter the building.

Inside was a relatively sparse, dusty room with two dirty tattered armchairs by the fire that at one point may have been gold but now took on a tragic mustard yellow color. A wardrobe sat in a dark corner, its left door hanging slightly ajar. To Kat’s left was a large, rounded doorway that led even deeper into the seemingly abandoned building.

Eric landed behind Kat and squinted, unable to see their surroundings in the same detail as his wife.

Kat strode forward confidently while Dimitri reached beside his chair and procured a well-loved bottle of moonshine that he poured into his cup.

“Dimitri Phendor,” Kat greeted with a bow.

The blacksmith grumbled.

Kat noticed that he was still wearing the peculiar darkened goggles around his eyes despite the darkness of the room and being nowhere near his forge …

“Sit,” he ordered gruffly.

Kat obliged.

Eric, his eyes finally adjusted to the low light, made his way over to where the blacksmith and Kat sat and stood behind his wife, his hand casually gripping his sword hilt.

“What took you so long?” Dimitri asked after taking a gulp of moonshine.

“Had someone try to poison me, got married, my parents showed up, you know. Normal things.”

Dimitri set his cup down and leaned forward.

“I know who tried to poison you.”

Kat blinked and sat up straighter. “Well, technically, I know his name too. Sir Seth Herra.”

“He’s a puppet. That woman did it, and you need to stay far away from her, or you will help her unleash Gods know what upon the world.”

“Who is this woman?” Kat demanded next.

“The one who has been alive for centuries. Doomed to live alongside the devil until they make amends,” Dimitri rumbled, his darkened goggles turning toward the weak flame that struggled to rise from the coals in the hearth.

“You can’t mean the first witch. He killed her! In no record has she survived their last battle!” Kat insisted while shifting to the edge of her seat.

“In a sense he did kill her.”

“Speak clearly.” Eric’s voice, while quiet, was intent. “We have been searching for this information for—”

“Did I not try and contact you multiple times?” Dimitri barked irritably.

Eric fell silent once more as Dimitri refilled his cup.

“The devil … He took the first witch’s magic. He sealed away her abilities and, therefore, her means to go home to the Forest of the Afterlife. But by doing this … he also cut her off from her sense of balance. Her sense of self. She is not what she once was. However, the devil sees it as a proper punishment for her after she sided with humans over the ancient beasts they were raised alongside. In other words, he condemned her to humanity.”

Kat balked. “But … Why would the devil be afraid of her now if she doesn’t have power?”

“Connections,” Eric interrupted softly. “He … He said she had connections.”

Dimitri barely looked in the prince’s direction.

“That she does.”

“If she’s been alive for centuries though, and it’s his sister, wouldn’t the devil bloody well know who she is then?! Why in the world is he saying he doesn’t even know what she looks like!” Kat continued frantically.

Dimitri stared at Kat, not saying anything … as though waiting for her to calm down.

“Because he doesn’t know what she looks like. While the devil lives and dies and then is reborn from his ashes like his father, the Green Man, the first witch continues to live as her mother, aging from a young maiden to a matron to a crone without dying. Her features change as she grows from crone to maiden once more. She could look Troivackian, Zinferan, Daxarian, or Lobahlan, and no one would know.”

“How … How do you know all this?” Kat whispered as she absorbed the story.

“Because with your sword finding its master, it isn’t hard to guess the devil is near … And as for the other details of the first witch … There was a reason my grandfather crafted your sword. He was … close with the first witch many years ago.”

“He loved her,” Eric guessed.

Dimitri cleared his throat, then continued. “She recognized the power in his work. Saw that his weapons were capable of magical properties.”

“Magical properties? Like the mage crystals?” Kat interrupted curiously.

“In a way, but they had to be connected to their master. Whoever wields the weapon or item Theodore Phendor crafted has to have a master that possesses some sort of ability for it to have magic.” Dimitri paused but neither Eric nor Kat interjected with any questions. “The first witch asked my grandfather to make her a dagger. One that could absorb power. Even though her own magic was cut off, she still had the space in her being to have magic; she simply needed a means of obtaining it. He wanted to help her, to see if she could perhaps feel whole again … so he crafted the dagger.”

“Why a dagger? Why not a necklace? Or something infinitely less ominous? How did he not see where this was going?” Kat pointed out glibly.

Dimitri growled, and Kat held up her hands in surrender, immediately backing down.

“He made it a dagger so she could defeat the devil. She claimed that if she could absorb his abilities, she would then be able to unlock her own power once more and take them both home.”

“Buuut she got power hungry and started stabbing people?” Kat hypothesized while leaning back in her seat.

Dimitri shook his head. “No. She was careful, but the problem was the devil is clever, and if he ever worried she was about to catch him, he simply killed himself to be reborn elsewhere.”

“Can he predict where he would be reborn?” Eric queried interestedly.

“That, I do not know. While I know he is reborn of ashes, I do not know if it must be the ashes from his previous body, or if there is another component to it. Through his centuries in this world, he accrued loyal followers who aided him—though most didn’t know his true identity, so even when she would interrogate them afterward, she’d learn nothing.”

“How is it that this all ties in with my sword? And why are you fleeing to Daxaria?” Kat wondered next.

“The first witch used to be predictable. Her motive was to overpower her brother so they both could go home. However … that is not the case anymore. When she created Witch’s Brew and started bringing over the ancient beasts, it was so uncharacteristic, that it makes one wonder if she is after something else. Perhaps she thought they would help her subdue the devil, or if she swayed their alliance with a different kind of promise, but I can’t speak to that either.” Dimitri grunted. “I’m leaving Troivack because now that you are aware of the first witch’s past, you will need to inform the king, and it will not take her long to find out who told him. She’ll come for me. So it is best I disappear. As for your sword, Lady Katarina … Your sword was the original weapon my grandfather crafted for the first witch.”

Before continuing his speech, Dimitri plucked up the moonshine bottle and drained the last of its contents into his cup. Both Kat and Eric shared a look of amazement as he did so.

“He thought that if he simply made a weapon that could amplify the power the devil had locked away or hone the magic and power that still lingered in the first witch, that would be all she needed as opposed to a weapon that stole or borrowed another witch’s power.”

Kat went still. She remembered how when she’d drawn her sword while the imp was attempting to bind her that she had grown stronger as she pulled it free from its scabbard …

“Your sword feeds off your power and hones it to your intent.”

“Wait,” Eric interjected. “Does that mean it drains her magic more when she uses it?”

“It would allow her to use more of her magic in a single use, but it also helps stabilize her magic, as it will pull from the areas of her abilities that are strongest before it pulls from the weakest.”

“That’s why you’re tired.” Eric turned to Kat eagerly. “You used the sword how many times since getting it?”

“Erm … The imp and my duels are the only times I used my magic while wielding the sword.”

“You started getting tired after that,” Eric pointed out. Then he addressed the blacksmith. “Wouldn’t that make sense … ? Is the sword slowly draining her power?”

Dimitri made a rumbling sound in his chest as though irritated. “No. You might have had less power at the end of the day, but it wouldn’t still be draining you beyond the times you unleashed its full power. If you want my guess? You are spreading your power too thinly.”

Kat raised an eyebrow as Eric fell quiet again.

“How do you mean?”

“A … A seer visited my grandfather years ago, and she foretold your coming. Your ability feeds off people or magic around you, however you also are able to redistribute what you absorb, helping to amplify energy, strength, endurance … You are most likely doing this subconsciously by wishing to help those around you.” Dimitri shifted awkwardly and even turned his chin away …

Kat felt her hands tighten. “How do I control that if I’m not aware?”

Dimitri snorted. “I don’t know everything.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Eric countered evenly. “You know quite a lot for a mere blacksmith. How did you even know the first witch created Witch’s Brew and brought over the ancient beasts? That is classified information.”

Dimitri’s finger tapped his cup carefully as though calculating what he should say.

“A seer told your grandfather all this? We just discovered a seer the other day, and it’s quite a convenient answer.” Eric drew closer to the blacksmith, his expression icy. “Tell the truth, or I will carry your head out of here.”

Kat rounded on her husband in alarm.

The blacksmith must’ve seen the sincerity in the prince’s eyes, however, because he gripped his cup with an air of resolve.

“Fine. Have it your way. It would’ve been better for you if you’d just turned a blind eye.” Dimitri leaned forward, his upper lip twitching. “The devil came to see me. I already knew about the history of the first witch and the sword from my grandfather, which is why I had already been trying to find you. But he was the one who shared the details of Lady Katarina’s power and about the beasts and Witch’s Brew. He is the one who is telling me to leave Daxaria.”

“Why would he tell you anything? Unless”—Eric’s eyes narrowed—“he wants a weapon.”

Dimitri said nothing. Only set his cup down.

“He sent you to tell us all this instead of coming himself. Why hasn’t he reached out to me directly?”

At first, it didn’t seem like the blacksmith was going to answer.

Eric started to draw his sword, but Kat’s hand shot out and stopped him, her aura softly growing in light.

“He has given us a wealth of information.” Kat turned patiently to Dimitri while ignoring Eric’s hardened countenance. “Do you know where Likon is?”

Dimitri frowned. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

“What weapon does the devil want you to make?” Eric continued after both he and Kat studied the blacksmith but could see his confusion was genuine.

Dimitri snorted. “Once he learned of my limitations, nothing. I can’t make magic-infused weapons like my grandfather.”

“You do … have magic though,” Kat started while eyeing the Troivackian knowingly. “You’re hiding your eyes in the dark for a reason.”

Dimitri smiled bitterly, revealing yellow stained teeth. “That I do. Not entirely unlike your own eyes, I am highly sensitive to sound, light, smell, even touch. It allows me to make exceptional weapons, but not magical ones.”

“I take it the devil didn’t like hearing that.” Eric released the hilt of his sword and crossed his arms.

Dimitri shrugged. “He was glad enough that I could talk with you. He is suffering. He doesn’t want anyone to know, but I could hear the stressful beats of his heart, and troubled breaths.”

Both Kat and Eric exchanged looks.

Despite learning information they had been desperate to get their hands on, there was so much still unknown …

Taking in a deep breath and letting it out, Kat tried her best to wrap her head around the situation and what the blacksmith was telling her.

The scale of this feud between the children of the Gods was frightening …

But if it was going to help them stop a possible supernatural war, then she needed to ask the question that she was already anxious to hear the answer to …

“You mentioned how my presence will bring calamity. I need you to tell me exactly how it will, and then I’ll be more than happy to see about helping you escape to Daxaria once you tell us when the devil said you should leave by.”