The Mad Witch’s Orc (The Witches of Shalimar #1)

Chapter 1

Chapter one

Calypso

“Burn the witch!”

Calypso watched from the shadows of an alley a scene that she’d witnessed a hundred times prior.

Every corner of Shalimar contained the same townsfolk spewing vitriol, callous guards dragging the accused women, and unoriginal threats.

It was either “burn the witch” or “drown the witch.” She wished that once someone would shout something interesting, like “bake the witch into a cake.”

The guards passed the alley in which she was waiting with Nyx. There were so many guards, Calypso could hardly make out the woman they were leading.

Someone threw a pint glass from the tavern next door, and it shattered on the ground before the envoy.

One of the guards yelled in the direction from which the glass was thrown, but they didn’t slow their pace.

Bloody footprints emerged from the broken glass.

They hadn’t even let the woman wear shoes.

Black smoke swirled around Calypso’s legs as loose embers bit at her hands. She took one step forward, itching to leave the alley.

“Not yet.” Nyx’s stern voice grabbed her attention.

Calypso studied her sister, who’d insisted on conducting this rescue. For a moment, she considered ignoring her warnings and ambushing the guards.

It would be so much easier if her sisters would just let her lean into her power the way she wanted.

She cannot stop you. Your power exceeds hers.

The intruding voice hissed in her head. Her hallucinations were worsening and becoming harder to ignore. It wasn’t hearing the voice that worried Calypso, but the moments when she felt herself agreeing with its sentiments.

She forced a nod and stepped back to Nyx’s side. The black fog that had surrounded her a moment ago was nowhere to be found. Calypso almost asked Nyx if she had seen it, but she wasn't ready for her answer.

Instead, she stayed silent and watched the accused woman finally reach the platform at the center of the town.

The town magistrate wobbled up the steps to stand at the front, his black robes tightly stretched over his rotund belly. He looked over the crowd with an inflated sense of self-importance.

“We gather today for the trial and sentencing of Marianna Clairmont,” he bellowed. “This woman stands accused of witchcraft!”

The crowd erupted.

The sudden onslaught of noise caused Marianna to flinch. Even from a distance, her tremors were visible as she stood at the center of the wooden platform. Dark, grimy hair stuck to her face, and her eyes were wide with fear. They searched the crowd for even a hint of compassion, but none was there.

Calypso would give her something better than compassion. She would give her revenge.

“For your first offense,” the magistrate continued, “you were seen gathering plants on the outskirts of town.”

“That’s true! I saw her!” yelled a woman in the crowd.

The magistrate frowned at the interruption but resumed. “As I was saying. These plants were later used to create poisons, causing harm to your fellow townsfolk.”

Calypso resisted the urge to tap her foot in annoyance. She hated when these sham trials were drawn out. It was clear they would find her guilty regardless of the truth.

“Second, you summoned your witch’s strength to break the nose of the merchant’s son.”

Everyone’s glance flew toward an indignant-looking young man with a dark bruise coloring his face. Calypso snorted in disbelief, sensing the true reason Marianna was targeted.

“Are you sure she is even a witch?” Calypso whispered to Nyx. “Sounds like she’s just some poor girl who rejected the wrong boy.”

The agreement had been to rescue witches, not meddle in the plights of humans.

“I am sure,” was all Nyx responded.

Calypso returned her attention to the trial, noting the eagerness of the growing crowd.

“Finally, there is the undeniable evidence of these accusations.” The magistrate dramatically paused before continuing. “You possess the mark of witchkind.”

The magistrate waved his hand at one of the guards, who ripped the woman’s thin dress from shoulder to thigh.

Her breast, belly, and hip became exposed for the village to leer at as the magistrate triumphantly pointed at the black mark of magic.

The upside-down triangle with a single line running horizontal through it branded her as an earth witch.

Given the size of the mark, Calypso guessed the witch had likely come into her power only a year or two prior.

Murmurs and exclamations spread through the crowd.

“For these three signs, you have been deemed a witch,” the magistrate concluded. “And for this crime, you are sentenced to burn at the stake!”

Several of the guards climbed down the platform to grab torches while the other guards tied the poor woman to a large wooden stake. She struggled helplessly against their hold.

“Have at them, Calypso.” Nyx quickly moved toward the ladder, her bow at her back. “I’m headed for the rooftop.”

Anticipation spread through her as Calypso stepped out of the shadows toward the unsuspecting crowd.

“It’s in poor taste to start the festivities before the main guest arrives.” Calypso’s mocking voice rang out loudly.

There was confusion followed by gasps.

She had purposefully worn a black dress with transparent sleeves to highlight her numerous marks of magic, and with her untamed red hair, it was a striking sight.

“Who dares interrupt?!” the magistrate called out, adjusting his spectacles.

“I’m wounded that you don’t recognize me.” Calypso strode down the middle of the crowd, which had now parted, not wishing to touch her. “After Lacra, I thought my name would’ve traveled here.”

Whispers spread among the folk. “It’s the mad witch!”

“I will not tolerate this intrusion! If we are going to burn one witch, we might as well make it two.” The magistrate waved the guard forward. “Guards, seize her!”

Before the command finished, a faint whizzing sound pierced the air. Then two guards wordlessly dropped to the ground, each with an arrow through their eye. Nyx’s shots never missed.

The other guards stood stunned for a second before recovering and hurtling down the platform toward her.

Calypso reveled in the feel of her hands setting ablaze with that living fire that always burned inside her. The flames mercilessly struck the guards, searing their skin and melting their eyes.

The townsfolk screamed and scattered. Few tried to help but quickly fled as they saw how pointless it was.

It was a gruesome sight to behold, and Calypso made no effort to hold back. Burning was not a pleasant way to die, yet this crowd was so quick to inflict that on someone else.

Her worst wouldn’t make up for a fraction of the deaths that had occurred over the last ten years. The regent king’s decree banning witchcraft had triggered a violence so brutal that the soil surrounding past coven houses was still stained red.

With the guards charred and smoking at her feet, Calypso turned toward the magistrate.

She loved saving them for last. Something about their look of disbelief that their plans had fallen apart was so delicious.

“I think we should switch it up and burn a lawman instead.” She took slow, predatory steps in his direction.

The man stumbled to the ground, scrambling to get away. In his pathetic fear, he dropped his torch, which rolled toward the bound witch. The hay at her feet instantly caught fire.

“Damn it!” Calypso cursed and raced toward the platform.

She reached the woman quickly, but the fire was already spreading rapidly. Unfazed by the flames, which would not hurt her, Calypso grabbed a knife from her boot and sliced at the rope.

Once released, Marianna sagged forward from weakness and shock. Calypso picked her up, one arm under her knees and one at her shoulders, and jumped off the platform.

She glanced over her shoulder to see the magistrate running down the cobblestone road.

Then he fell. An arrow stuck out of his neck.

This was one instance where she would prefer Nyx to be a little less accurate and let the man suffer.

She turned her attention back to the shivering witch.

“I need to see your feet.” Calypso set her down gently on the stones and looked at her bloodied and blistering feet. The burns only went up to her ankles, but they were severe.

Whatever rush had been keeping the pain away was slowly dissipating, and the woman began to scream.

“Look at me.” Calypso grabbed the woman’s face, forcing her to meet her eyes. “I will help you, but you need to calm down.”

At first, Marianna didn’t respond, and Calypso worried she was too far in her own mind, but then the woman nodded.

Calypso used her knife to cut her palm, letting the deep red blood coat her hand like a glove. She reached out toward the other witch, who reared back, horror scattered over her features.

“It will heal your feet.” Calypso’s explanation wasn’t reassuring enough as Marianna continued to hold herself stiffly away. “If you think your pain is excruciating now, this is nothing compared to the agony that will come later.”

A wave of pain must’ve hit right then because Marianna's features went pale. Desperation set in, and she nodded, leaning forward toward Calypso.

It took only a handful of seconds for Calypso to leave the bloody inscriptions upon Marianna’s skin. They emitted a soft glow before disappearing, and Marianna’s body absorbed her black magic.

Marianna was still shivering but calmer. The magic would heal her burns and protect her from fire, never to be set aflame again.

Calypso picked up the small witch, who was losing consciousness from exhaustion, and began her march toward the meeting point.

Her steps were brisk with irritation at her sisters—Nyx and Astra—for the delay this detour caused. She wanted to leave these tiny villages and head to the northern district. She wanted to burn her mark onto the realm and spit in the face of its nobility.

Most of all, she wanted vengeance.

Thomas Haworth. Ker Beck. Hugh Davinger.