Adventures of Castien Ertoris: The Witch - part 1

The aged wood of the dock is damp and slippery as Castien disembarks from the trade ship. The dock is bustling with traders and deckhands engaged in loading and unloading goods. The air is filled with the scent of lemon and sage as soap is washed off the ships into the water. Taking a deep breath, Castien proceeds to the market of Therindra. The streets are deserted, and rats scatter as he walks down the main cobblestone road. The faint sound of shouting draws his attention as he heads toward the city center. “Burn her!” “Kill the witch!” The cries grow louder as he rounds the corner to the city center.

The townspeople have gathered around a makeshift gallows in the town center. There, before them, stands a girl, no older than fifteen, stripped of her clothing and beaten severely. Her eyes, swollen from crying, plead for mercy, but her cries fall on deaf ears. Two mercenaries stand beside her, holding the restraints tightly bound around her wrists and neck. They grow more arrogant and violent as the crowd cheers. Emboldened, they kick her feet out from under her, causing her to fall violently onto the hard wooden floor below her bare feet.

Castien pushes his way through the crowd to the front of the mob. The mercenary to the right of the girl shouts out.

“This creature is accused of vile witchcraft, having killed her mother and brother with fires conjured from her hands in hatred for men and our kind!” The man says, pulling on the rope around her neck, lifting her to her knees. “What do we do with those who have given their souls to the damned?” he asks the locals.

The crowd excitedly demands to burn the witch. Castien looks in disgust at the “civilized” people around him, acting with such barbarity.

“What proof do you have of these crimes?” he shouts, hoping to appeal to their reason.

The mercenaries laugh and look at the crowd. “Her house is in ashes, and she is the only survivor. We have hunted witches for years, and she fits the description quite well.” The crowd cheers them on.

“A burnt house and dead relatives are not proof of witchcraft!” Castien yells. “In my experience, witches are more inclined to curses and spreading disease, not fire.”

The mercenary on the left kicks the girl over and laughs. She looks up at Castien, a bloody tear running down her cheek from her one open eye.

“Help, please,” she whispers in a cracked voice.

Castien walks around the base of the gallows and ascends the stairs. He is stopped by a mercenary at the top, who places a hand on Castien’s chest to push him back. Castien draws his sword and slices off the mercenary’s hand, kicking him over. The mercenary tumbles from the gallows onto the muddy ground below. The other mercenary draws his sword and drags the girl behind him.

“You would free this witch?” he yells. Castien laughs at the man.

“You have no proof she is a witch, and I will not allow you to kill this girl over your bigotry.”

He moves forward to engage the man when the girl screams violently. The air begins to burn as Castien breathes. The girl thrusts her hands toward the ground, and fire erupts, blowing the mercenary and crowd back. Castien takes a knee, blocking the flame with his sword. As the smoke and flame fade, the girl is gone.

The mercenary shakily rises to his feet. “You see, she is a witch, and you freed her!” he screams.

Observing the crowd and the blast area, Castien stands and sheathes his sword. Removing his glove, he runs a finger over the ash left behind. Smelling it, he whispers to himself, “Wild magic.” Looking up at the mercenary, he grabs him and throws him off the gallows, yelling to the crowd, “This was not the work of a witch, but if you wish to punish me, step forward.”

The crowd looks at each other, and a few men step forward with swords in hand. “Very well,” Castien says with a sigh, drawing his blade.

Before he can fully unsheathe his weapon, the town guard is heard yelling from the back of the crowd. A man in full armor, mounted on a black horse, makes his way to the base of the gallows and commands the crowd to disperse or face consequences. The mob breaks, and people begin to return to their homes and shops. Castien stands there, his hand firmly on his sword’s hilt, as the man dismounts and approaches him.

“You make quite an entrance, traveler. I am Herald, captain of the guard.”

Castien looks at the many men before him and removes his hand from his sword.

“I could not let them kill the girl,” he says calmly. “I meant no insult, but she was not a witch.”

Examining the charred circle around them, Herald turns back to Castien. “I don’t know much about the subject, but this looks like witchcraft to me.” He waves at his men to approach. “Hand over your weapon, and come with us.”

As Herald says this, a blunt object strikes Castien, and his vision becomes blurry before turning black. When he regains consciousness, his vision is dim, and a shade of red covers the images before him. He tries to stand but finds himself confined in a small cage hanging from the wall of the guard quarters.

“So, finally awake, are we?”

He hears from a distance. Sitting back, he tries to gather his bearings. As his vision clears, he sees Herald standing before him, now without his armor. The room is lit by numerous candle holders, and the smoke from incense burning on the desk fills the air. The walls are patched together with various stones and wooden planks.

“What is my crime?” Castien asks as he leans back against the cage, dusting off his hands.

“You disturbed the peace, released a witch, and dismembered a hired mercenary,” Herald says as he returns to his desk.

Castien chuckles, leaning onto his knees. “And what is the punishment for publicly degrading a woman and abusing a child?” he asks, staring intently at the captain.

Sitting down and beginning to write, the captain doesn’t lift his head at the remark. “Yes, we would have dealt with them if you had come to us with a complaint, but you...”

Castien interrupts the captain, angrily growling, “They were in the center of your town, and you didn’t notice. I wouldn’t trust you to uphold the law in the kingdom of thieves!”

Setting down his quill, the captain stands and walks over to the cage. “Even so, you should have come to the authorities,” he says as he unlocks the cage, releasing the floor. Castien falls to the ground with a thud. Grunting, he stands and demands his belongings.

“All of your items will be returned in due time. Now come, sit and speak with me.” Herald says calmly as he returns to his desk. Castien makes his way to the captain’s desk and sits across from Herald. Herald fills a glass with wine and hands it to Castien. “It isn’t every day a pirate disembarks from a ship and frees a witch. Where are you from?”

Castien looks down at his attire. Fine clothes, mixed with chainmail and leather, are brightly adorned with embroidered symbols. “The Northern Isles, a small fishing village on the southern islands. I am no pirate, though I can see the confusion.” He finishes his glass of wine in a single gulp and places the glass on the desk. “That girl is not a witch; she has wild magic. Uncontrolled, it is very dangerous. Where is your court wizard?” he asks.

Herald laughs loudly at this remark. “We have no wizards here. After we broke free from their magic, we banished them from our lands, vowing never to be enslaved again.”

“So what now? Do I hunt this girl down and kill her for you?”

“No, I want to find her and ensure she reaches a Tower to learn to control her magic.” Herald says as he refills Castien’s glass. Confused, Castien takes a drink. Herald continues, “I’m not like the others. I do not fear magic for its rarity; I embrace it for its gifts and wish it to be used for the betterment of mankind, not its enslavement.”

“Then why not allow a Tower to be built here? To show these people they need not kill what they don’t understand?”

“The people here are hardy and stubborn, perhaps due to the cold. We are Frey men, living in the harshest lands in the realm; opinions are not easily changed,” Herald says, disappointed. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t help those whom others fear. Will you find her?”

Castien looks around the room warily, fearing he may become a sympathizer and be killed. “I will find her,” he says.

“Good, speak with Varik Blackhand at the tavern before you go; he may be able to help.”

“I don’t work well with others.”

“That may be so, but he will accompany you.” Herald waves his hand at Castien and points him in the direction of his gear. “Get ready and be gone.”