Chapter 3 – The Fire Demon
Man, what a weird dream, I thought as I lay in bed. Going into a medieval village, Philipia turning into a lion, me breaking a glass with my mind…
A rooster crowed nearby. Dang. It wasn’t a dream.
I flung the covers off and glanced around. Philipia and Alye were still out. Soft sunlight streamed through the window, painting the room colors of gold and yellow. The effect was pretty; go figure, it didn’t last long. A shout rose up from the streets below and the roads came to life. Several brown-and-gray figures trotted along, carrying baskets, tools, and things like that.
Philipia stirred and fumbled for her non-existent glasses. She didn’t say anything…until she sat up and remembered where we were. “Crud. Still in the inn?” she asked when she spotted me.
“Yep.”
She groaned. “I’ll wake up Alye.”
Ten minutes later, having washed up and dressed, we plodded down the staircase to the main room. Thankfully, Aubrey had paid for our breakfasts as well, so we happily shoved food in our faces.
The room was quiet; most of the guys were probably at work or something. Only Clance, the crusty innkeeper, occupied the counter, wiping up spills and crumbs that had escaped him the night before. He glanced at us and nodded, then returned to his work. As we finished and began to walk out, his vocal cords came to life. “Four soldiers were looking for you.”
We whipped around. “WHAT?” Alye demanded. “When?”
“This morning. I told them that you were asleep.”
“Thanks,” I breathed. Exit three girls.
The streets had come to life this morning. Men with hoes and rakes plodded in the mud with donkeys or even gritty horses trailing behind. A few soldiers marched around as well, but none of them were the ones who’d bothered us yesterday. No one noticed us; we were just a trio of random girls wandering the streets.
Until all heck broke loose.
Several yards ahead, a girl screamed. We could see her stumble away from a group of guys, four soldiers by their shiny mail and bright swords. She darted to the right but one of the men grabbed her arm and held her fast. I could see his companions laughing. The girl squirmed and cried, but the guy wouldn’t let her go.
Alye was practically swearing under her breath and she ran forward, leaving Philipia and me to follow her. The brunette dashed up and slapped the soldier who was holding the girl, causing his grip to fail, and the girl fell into the mud.
“Back off, creep!” Alye yelled, but then she stepped back. As Philipia and I ran up, we saw why.
The same four soldiers who’d attacked us yesterday stood watching us with angry/ugly faces.
“So the damsels in distress need ‘help’ again, I see?” one of them asked with a disgusting grin. They surrounded us quickly. We stood back to back watching them; the villagers stared from their houses but didn’t dare go against those glittering weapons. I felt sweat dripping down my brow.
One of them drew his sword and lunged at Alye. And then, the crazy thing happened.
Alye, who’d never been within twenty feet of a weapon, ducked. “I’m not the damsel IN distress…” she spat, gliding underneath the sword and grabbing the handle while delivering a hard kick to the guy’s shin. He swore and dropped the sword. Alye spun up and crashed the blade onto the guy’s head, and he plunged into the mud with a splat. She twirled the sword with her wrist. “I’m the damsel OF distress.”
The three soldiers who remained looked far more apprehensive than they had a few second ago. But even so, we were stuck. Alye could fend off the one when he was off guard, but three trained professionals at once? Not so sure about that.
The trio drew their swords and eyed us with anger. I tried to concentrate on their movements, but a rattling sound was distracting me. Trying to keep my eyes on them, I jerked my head to clear my thoughts.
A metal pot crashed into one’s head, spewing yellow stuff all over him. He dropped. I stared. I’d just thrown of a pan full of…oh God, I don’t want to know what was in there…did that liquid look like…ew.
Without thinking, I glanced at another pan lying by a hut and stared at one of the remaining soldiers. His eyes widened…and then closed when the pot smacked into this head. He joined his comrades in the mud.
Now only one soldier remained, and he was backing away as fast as possible. I glanced at Philipia. She was changing again, but this time, she was growing wings! A beak protruded out of her skull and she shrank to a foot-and-a-half height. The bird she’d now become was an eagle, and she knew exactly what to do. With a screech, she flapped over to the fleeing soldier, who’d flung down his sword, and grabbed his hair. He screamed as her sharp beak poked at his head. Finally, she flew back to his sword, lifted it with an effort, and dropped it on the man’s head. He was down for the count.
I swear, the eagle grinned as it transformed back into Philipia. But that smile faded when she saw her friend. Alye was looking very comfortable with her pointy sword. Philipia and I backed away slightly. God only knew what she was going to do with it. She gave us an innocent grin and laughed.
“Oh come on, I’m not going to attack YOU!”
Philipia groaned. “Yeah, but what’s going to stop you from attacking everyone else?”
Unfortunately for us, “everyone else” was circling us with whatever heavy objects they could find in their hands. Not very comforting.
Once again, we were stuck, facing a crowd of hostile people. But this time, I didn’t want to fight back; neither did Philipia. Didn’t know what Alye’s thoughts were on the matter. Fighting off perverted soldiers is one thing, but harming villagers is different.
At least, I think it is.
“Witches!” someone hissed.
“Fiends from hell!”
“We must kill them or they will destroy our crops and make our babies sick!”
“Oh come ON!” Alye yelled. “We just saved that girl! You really think we’d hurt your food?”
She would have continued, but I didn’t hear it. Without warning, something hard crashed into my head. Going black…fading…
Note to self: chivalry is overrated.
Case in point: our act of defense for the kid.
We’d risked our lives fighting four professional soldiers, and what did we get?
Being knocked out, tied to stakes, and having angry villagers chant around us about how no witches would ever violate their village.
Good grief.
I sighed. “What did they hit me with?”
“One of them sneaked up behind you and bashed your head with a pole,” Philipia answered as she stood next to me. “Then he pulled out a knife and threatened to kill you unless we surrendered. Both Alye and I were knocked out, and we woke up in this cheery situation.”
Alye gave a barking laugh. “Next time I want to help someone, just remind me of what happened here.”
“Will do,” I replied. “At least, if we do have a next time.” I eyed the bales of grass and straw the villagers had collected in front of us. Death by burning. Not the way I would have chosen to go. The thought of a painful, fiery end terrified me, but I tried not to let my tears show.
“I can tell, Tanya,” Philipia said softly. “You can go ahead and cry.”
“I didn’t want to die like this,” I whimpered. “I have a family I love. I have a home I want to get back to…”
“We all do,” Alye pointed out. “I mean, my home life sucks, but you have something to worry about.”
The tears were coming. I couldn’t stop them from falling down my face. The watching villagers jeered and growled, and their excitement reached a high point when a man approached, a burning torch in his hand. He knelt at the straw. I closed my eyes and prayed.
A whoosh made me open my eyes again. The man with the torch stared at his torchless hand. Someone was standing nearby. Someone…my God…someone on fire! A girl, I thought. Her black silhouette flickered through the wall of flames that surrounded her. But the grass didn’t ignite. Instead, she raced up to our poles and burned the ropes off. We stumbled forward and she grabbed our hands. Then…we were off.
Imagine riding in a racecar. A REALLY fast racecar. Now imagine that the car’s on fire and you’re standing on the roof. That’s pretty much what it was like. This girl on fire sped down the street faster than two blinks of an eye. We held on for dear life as she ran. Within a few seconds, we were standing in front of a small wooden hut, far on the outskirts of the village. The girl opened the door and we tumbled inside, gasping for air. She stepped in and we stared in shock.
Fire enveloped her completely, obscuring everything about her features. But gradually, the flames started dying, and we could see her face. Ironically, she was pale, with jet-black hair and deep brown eyes. The fires continued to fade and we could see her clothes. She wore a black undershirt, a deepest violet bodice thing, and a dark red skirt. To be blunt, a medieval Goth. She grinned.
“Not exactly used to seeing people on fire, I see,” she laughed as she observed our incredulous faces. “But you are welcome.”
“Oh…yeah…thanks…” I stuttered. “But…how…who…why?!”
She nodded. The flames were all gone now. “My name is Selene. I live out here because the villagers are terrified of me. I am sure that you understand why. They once tried to burn ME at the stake, but because I have fire abilities, that did not exactly work.”
“How the heck do you do that?” Alye demanded.
Selene gave an enigmatic smile. “I have in my possession an herb that only I and one other person knows how to get. It is an Inosital herb, and it is very rare. If I eat some, I gain incredible speed…and fire powers. I don’t know how it works, but when it happens, it is highly enjoyable.” She yawned heavily. “But…after I use it…I’m left exhausted. Sorry…but I have to sleep.” She promptly collapsed on a nearby bed. We were left staring at one another.
“Someone pinch me,” I breathed as I slumped in a hard wooden chair.
“I’m already pinching myself,” Philipia retorted. “This is real, no matter how screwed up it is.”
“But why?” Alye asked. “Why would she care about us? She doesn’t even know who we are!”
“I guess we can only ask that when she wakes up,” I sighed.
And so we sat and waited for Selene to awaken. She didn’t. All we could hear was her heavy breathing. Alye tried poking her, even shouting in her ear, but that girl could sleep through a tornado. All I wanted to do was sleep, even if it meant sitting in a chair that had the softness of a rock.
A knock on the door shattered the silence. Backing up to the walls, we edged toward the door. Alye grabbed a small knife from a cupboard and flung the door open.
Standing in the door and backing away from Alye’s knife was…Aubrey.
“I hope that you are not intending to use that?” he asked wryly. Alye promptly dropped her knife and giggled.
“Sorry, didn’t know it was you!”
The man smirked. “I understand that you had some…difficulty in the village?”
Philipia snorted. “Yeah, if you call ‘difficulty’ fighting off four disgusting soldiers and nearly being burnt at the stake.”
His blue eyes flashed, with anger, I think. “The villagers will be punished, I assure you. And the soldiers you speak of will be whipped and serve in hard labor for six months.”
“Overkill, don’t you think?” I asked. He blinked.
“Overkill?”
“Yeah…um…you know…kind of excessive?” Hey, you try explaining slang to a medieval guy!
Aubrey gave a (cruel?) smile, “On the contrary, if I wished, I could have them executed.”
“Hold on,” Philipia stepped in, “you have the authority to kill soldiers? How, exactly?”
His laugh startled us, even Alye. “You do not know? Then I will tell you.” He chuckled again. “I am the son of Lord Delroy, who owns the village and all the surrounding lands.”
That bombshell went down nicely.
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