A/N: I thought I was okay with my one Season of The Witch story, but some dental work complications actually gave me a new idea that kept expanding until I had to revisit Behmen and company, as I do love this movie. Again, I've made it longer. And, the witch is a lot more sinister in this one: She's messing with Behmen in front of everyone this time, and pretty much everyone has to deal with the consequences. It takes until the second, last chapter before it gets completely away from the movie, but then gets back to it at the end. As last time, I let the movie kill off the friends, because I really don't want to go there.
Disclaimer: If I owned Season of The Witch, it would've been longer, definitely rated R, and had more sex! But of course I don't; that's what this is for! God bless FanFiction!
Cat Got Your Tongue
"You do realize you're being followed," Felson informed his friend suddenly, bringing his dark horse neck and neck with the long-maned white one.
"Again?" Behmen was pulled out of his thoughts immediately, turning toward the other man in shock. They'd just picked up the eager-to-please former altar boy, Kay, mere hours ago, and they were still only on the first day of their journey to Severac.
"Not again," the older man shook his head. "We were being followed earlier, but you're being followed, now."
"How can you tell it's just me?" he demanded in consternation, not seeing anyone this time. He felt like his fellow knight was playing a trick on him, but their mission was deadly serious, so he knew that wasn't the case.
"Fall back, stop, and wait a minute," Felson instructed, the blond dropping back immediately, patting his mount as they paused, trying to keep at least one of them calm. But the horse reared back suddenly as a pure black cat appeared on top, immediately resting itself in front of Behmen's saddle.
"Whoa," he managed, half to calm his horse, half his reaction to the feline that was now purring contentedly. Collecting himself, he pulled an apple from his saddlebag, taking a bite before letting the large animal have the rest, and he gingerly pet the cat before continuing on. Felson had paused not too far ahead, and had seen everything, and the younger man caught up to him: "If I were superstitious, I'd be reeling, now." Of course, neither of the friends was. But that didn't mean everyone else wasn't, and the older man grinned:
"Debelzaq's going to lose his mind."
The cat was so glossy that its fur shone blue in the little sunlight they saw on their journey thus far, and that fur felt like velvet against Behmen's skin, especially his battle-weary hands. And it purred constantly, as long as it was near the blond man. And anyone could pet it, then, as well. But when Behmen had to necessarily leave it behind, no one else could calm its mewling cries, or get near it. Everyone found it beyond creepy, but said nothing, certainly not to the leader of this mission.
That evening, around the campfire as Behmen regaled stories of his and Felson's enlistment to a curious Kay and the others, he fed the cat at his side bits of an egg that he was studiously peeling.
"The least you can do is name the damn thing," his friend piped up suddenly.
"Oh, I don't know," he replied easily, though unsure as his hand was head-butted: "No, you're not to eat the entire egg."
"When I said you needed to get some pussy, Behmen, this is not what I meant." And everyone started laughing, except for the priest. As usual. He even heard the witch laughing from her wagon cage some distance away, and looked towards the sound.
"She must be hungry, too," he whispered to the cat, which stopped begging immediately, nuzzling some bread no one was touching. So he covertly made a plate for her, and the night was chilly not around the campfire, so he also found an extra blanket to bring to the witch, and the cat did not follow as he moved stealthily towards the wagon.
The witch was grateful, and obviously feared Debelzaq, though to the knight he looked weak and timid, although the cat completely appalled him, so he obviously might not be what he seemed. Behmen still found it hard to believe he'd tortured the girl, but he didn't argue. She was worried what would happen to her at Severac, and he reassured her the best he could. Then he turned to go back to the campsite.
"Do you like the cat?" That stopped him cold, and he slowly turned to face the witch again:
"Very much so."
"Did you name it, then?"
"I doubt it'll stick around long enough." The witch was frowning:
"Have you no faith, Behmen?" It seemed an odd question, coming from her.
"Do you wish to name it?" he wondered, pleasantly surprised as it suddenly began winding around his legs, rubbing against his boots.
"May I pet it?" the witch asked, and he picked it up, cradling it in both arms, and moved close to the bars. The cat purred even louder as she stroked it, shifting in ecstasy, and the man smiled:
"Maybe I should leave it with you."
"It wants to be with you," she stated, her hand moving up to rest against the side of his face. Startled, he backed away, just out of her reach, as she stared at him intently.
"Name the cat, Anna."
"How do you know my name?" she demanded, now, but he was refusing to let her phase him, at least overtly:
"Do you want that as the name?" She shook her head. "Think about it, then. I'll get back—"
"Smyrna," she interrupted, and he swallowed hard, faltering. The cat leapt from his arms, back to wind around his legs.
"Why Smyrna?" he asked softly.
"Why not?" she challenged him. "It's an appropriate name for a she-cat."
"Very well, then." The cat was moving off, now, apparently satisfied with its new moniker, and it mewled impatiently for him to follow. "I'm being summoned," he said by way of explanation, nodding towards the feline.
"Sleep well, Behmen," the witch practically sneered now.
"I let the witch name the cat, Felson—" he whispered hours later, just knowing his friend was awake, Eckhart guarding the wagon in the middle of the night.
"You let the witch name the cat Felson?" the man echoed back, always ready for a joke, and the other couldn't help but grin:
"Always making light—"
"Well, you're always making dark," he retorted. Debelzaq was obviously awake now, rising and heading for the wagon, probably to relieve the third knight.
"How's this for dark?" he prepared his friend ominously. "Smyrna—"
"Smyrna?"
"Smyrna," he frowned.
"Did you protest?"
"How could I? She can't actually know that—"
"Then you're in denial."
"Maybe, but I'm not superstitious; remember?" Felson nodded, leaning up slightly, pulling out the flask and taking a swig before handing it to his friend:
"Have two on me; you could probably use it."
"Thanks for buying tonight."
"Anytime, my friend," but Behmen still looked troubled. "Anything else?" he prodded gently.
"Her name's Anna; at least, I think it is."
"She told you?"
"Not exactly . . . she touched my face, and I knew it, somehow."
"And you didn't ask her where the cat came from, did you." It wasn't a question.
"Of course not." Felson was getting seriously annoyed, now.
"If you're going to wonder about these things, Behmen, then you need to either start asking questions, or just stay away from the witch altogether."
"I challenged her on Smyrna, but she wouldn't give in—"
"You're pussy-whipped, Behmen," was the other man's conclusion.
"Obviously," he chuckled, the end of the cat's tail flicking at his chin as it lay against his chest, and the other man joined in.
And then they heard Debelzaq screaming.
Eckhart was buried the next morning, having impaled himself on Kay's sword, somehow convinced that the former altar boy was his dead daughter. Debelzaq blamed it on the witch, telling Behmen that he and Eckhart had been discussing Mila in front of the witch moments before she escaped. Torches aflame, the group had galloped to a tiny village obviously ravaged by the plague; in the confusion of night, Kay had even pointed out the wrong girl, a pitiful specimen. They'd all been searching for the witch near a mass grave when Kay had frantically called for the two remaining knights. While Behmen had confirmed the awful truth, Felson had found the witch hiding mere yards away, and she'd attacked him violently. Stunned, frustrated, and wild of thought, Behmen yanked the witch off his dear friend and threw her against the natural stone wall. Kay was heartbroken and wracked with guilt on his left, and the witch was begging not to be left alone with the priest and apologizing for escaping on his right. At least she didn't fight the two remaining knights as they each took an arm and escorted her back to the wagon before helping Kay retrieve Eckhart.
Behmen followed the wagon once the procession had started up again, needing to be alone, Felson riding alongside Hagamar, their guide, in the front. The cat was once again perched in front of his saddle, but he could barely see it, or anything else, for that matter, staring vacantly at the wagon wheels, head bowed deeply down. The witch was staring at him the whole time, but he didn't even notice her until she spoke, calling him a very brave Crusader and thanking him for not letting her come to any harm from the priest. But this time, he did challenge her:
"Debelzaq believes you're to blame for Eckhart's death," and she definitely took offense to that, before realizing that the knight was speaking from pain. She offered to take his hand, but he just looked at her with something akin to horror, remembering her palm against his cheek the evening before. He'd learned her name then, though no one would know that besides Felson, and that had only been the briefest of contacts. He dreaded to think what would happen with a closer, deeper connection. The witch started fondling the bars while eyeing him lustfully, and he halted his horse, profoundly disturbed. Behmen let the wagon get as far ahead of him as was reasonable before continuing on, back to studying the movement of its wheels. The witch wasn't actively staring at him, anymore, but it felt like her eyes were always on him, nonetheless. After a while, Felson fell way back to ride alongside him, acutely aware that his friend wasn't doing well, but soothed by the fact that he seemed to be taking last night's advice. Being the leader, Behmen couldn't avoid the witch altogether, but he certainly had no obligation to seek her out. He'd been more than kind, but seemed to be paying a heavy price for his good heart, and Felson felt terrible for him. They both looked up as the procession stopped.
"You just rest here; I'll check this out."
Behmen nodded wearily as his friend galloped past the wagon, but gathered himself when he heard him bitching at Hagamar, moving to the front, stopping his horse feet from the beginning of a ridiculously worn wooden suspension bridge. Apparently, it had been fine ten years ago, and his mouth hung open briefly before he dismounted.
"Come on, now; off you go," he whispered, trying to remove the cat, but it stood and swatted at him, hissing, before moving into the saddle and laying back down. Females. "Suit yourself, then." Everyone else did, it seemed. Nobody paid any attention to him and his horse until they were well on the bridge, like he had gone invisible. Felson finally stopped berating Hagamar as he noticed his friend, who seemed to have gone from merely disturbed to positively suicidal:
"Behmen?" Everyone was watching, now, in complete and utter disbelief, but no one more than Felson, who was somehow hoping to snap his fellow knight out of his definite insanity. "Behmen!" And then the older man realized what a stupid thing he was doing, calling his friend's name. The last thing Behmen needed right now was to be distracted, especially since he seemed to be doing quite well, leading the horse this way and that, but ever forward. Felson held his breath as a strong gust of wind swayed the bridge, the blond hugging the white animal's nose to him to calm both of them as their footing shifted even more. They were halfway across, now, and there was no way to turn back. The wind didn't exactly die down, but it became less aggressive, and the rest of the group watched as man and horse finally reached the other side.
"Help!" Kay shouted, but there wasn't anything Behmen could do, clinging precariously to the ropes at the side of the bridge as he laid against them. They'd been leading the wagon across, and it had been tethered to the three men still on the other side, trying to control its descent, but the priest had lost his grip, his hands bloody from the effort, the left one still damaged from the witch impaling it during her brief escape. Once Debelzaq had faltered, a chain reaction occurred, and the out of control wagon had nearly run Kay and Behmen down as it picked up speed, and they had both dropped and rolled to the side. But Kay had rolled too far, and fallen off. He'd caught the edge, but couldn't hold on, and began falling. And then he'd stopped. The wagon had stopped, and rolled back to the middle of the bridge, and Behmen noticed everything, even that Kay was still alive, as he finally managed to stand back up. And then he called to Hagamar, knowing they couldn't leave the wagon. If it stayed too long in one place, it would surely fall through what was left of the boards. There was no time to rest. Only time to think, and act.
"If you let me out, it'll be lighter!" Behmen paused in pushing the wagon, and if every muscle on his body hadn't been strained to the breaking point, he might've laughed. The witch didn't look or sound at all sinister at the moment; she just looked and sounded like a frightened, frantic girl who would die a horrible death if the bridge broke and plummeted many metres down. But it's not like she would be alone: Felson, Kay and Behmen would perish with her, being that they were behind the wagon, pushing and straining with everything they had, while the priest and Hagamar struggled to move the horses forward that were pulling the wagon from the safe side. Of course, if the wagon did suddenly plummet, there would be no 'safe side', as the downward momentum would most likely pull the others backward into the abyss, as well. But that was not going to happen, despite what the witch and Kay were shouting: "Let me out; I can help!"
"It won't hold!"
"It will!" Behmen insisted, only answering the boy. He needed to ignore the witch. She was not going to escape again, and she was certainly not going to use their currently dire straits to convince him it was a good idea. Did she really think he was that gullible?
"Push!" she screamed now, and the three men touched solid ground just as the bridge completely collapsed, falling so far that no one heard it land, except where it slammed against the sides of the chasm. Felson staggered, turned, and sat on a large boulder; Kay did almost the same thing on the other side. Behmen leaned against a tree, head down, but facing his friend.
"That was a little too close for comfort," the older man gasped, causing the blond to look directly at him:
"I've saved your ass a hundred times; have a little faith." And they both smiled. Debelzaq was shaking erratically; his face was nearly grey, and sweaty, and Behmen frowned, calling out to Kay:
"Bring me a fresh wrap for the priest's hand." He staggered past the wagon, his leg muscles still protesting, and the witch was no longer innocent looking.
"It'd be a shame if he bled to death," she scoffed at him as he reached the other man. Debelzaq almost looked as if he'd freeze to death, first, his teeth chattering madly, huddled way forward as he sat on a large rock. Behmen unwrapped the left hand, and eyed the previous damage critically before calling Felson over.
"The flask," he requested once the older man had reached him.
"Really?" It seemed a waste of good alcohol, but he handed it over, and his friend splashed the priest's hand. Needless to say, it hurt like hell, but Behmen knew it would help, and he started wrapping, Kay beside him, while Felson looked around at the eerie silence that seemed to be engulfing them:
"What is this place?"
"Hagamar?" Behmen called out to their guide, who was also looking around, somewhat fearfully. "Where are we?"
"Wormwood Forest." Yes, this was what Eckhart had been talking about when they'd first studied the map of the way to Severac. It was nothing to be trifled with; men had lost their way, never to be seen again. But, what was left of the group was here, now, and they certainly couldn't go back the way they'd come, so there was nothing left to do but move on. Behmen had finished tending to the priest, and took a hefty swig from the flask as he considered the forest ahead, the cat once again doing figure eights around his legs. He handed the flask back to Felson, then leaned over to pet the cat.
Dense fog surrounded them almost immediately after they started up again, badly obscuring their vision, but definitely not obscuring Behmen's ears: Felson and Hagamar were arguing again. Naturally, they hadn't seen him listening behind them, the three leading the wagon, and were startled when his horse strode up between them:
"Enough!" It was like scolding two school children; both of their heads went down in shame, so he continued: "We'll camp here on the road until the fog passes."
No one was telling stories like last night; everyone was too exhausted. But Kay had confided something to Behmen, something he felt he could tell no one else, and long after the boy was asleep, he decided to visit the witch again.
"Behmen," Felson protested softly, but the younger man shook his head, lighting a torch in the campfire.
"I'll be right back." He gave the cat a quick stroke and walked away.
The witch must've been mad at him for helping the priest, because she didn't have the innocent look, and certainly not the lusty one, either. She was just scowling at him, but he ignored that, though there was no way he could ignore what Kay had told him. Nevertheless, he stood beyond arm's reach of the cell.
"Kay told me what happened on the bridge," he began, keeping his voice soft. "He says you saved his life . . . with one hand." A pause, "Hard to believe."
"We believe what we want to believe," she answered, appraising him coldly before continuing. "Do you believe I'm a witch, Behmen?" His torch went out at those words, and then it was back aflame instantly, and he nearly jumped, Felson doing the same from a distance, watching the two closely. The blond eyed the torch briefly, then turned his gaze back to the witch, her eyes flickering, her mouth twitching: "You're not afraid of me . . . Are you?" He hated what he did next, but this was really getting to be too much: He reached to the top of the wagon and pulled the cover down between them, effectively shutting her out physically, but he knew it wouldn't shut her out mentally. She was laughing, now, but it was more in his head than in the cold, dense, dark air. Felson already had the flask held out to him when he returned, but didn't say a word, and he sat, leaning against a tree, the cat in his lap, and he pulled his cloak closer to better cover them both before drifting to sleep.
Behmen's persistent nightmare about killing the girl in Smyrna was now being merged into a new nightmare about the witch. His sword still impaled her midsection, and blood still poured from her open mouth, but now her hands reached up into the blood, pulling at it, smearing it all up and down her voluptuous body as her clothes vanished. "And who controls your insolent tongue, Behmen?" he heard as the girl turned fully into the witch, and he started as he appeared in the picture in his blue tunic, not in full battle gear, and the witch kissed him hungrily as blood covered them both.
"Ouch," he started awake from a cat's claw perilously close to his crotch. He'd obviously been moving around, and the feline would not be deterred from her resting spot. Felson was asleep against a tree close to the wagon, probably to prevent him from chancing any more encounters, though he certainly had no intention of interacting with her again any time soon, as the updated nightmare was causing her to laugh within his head again. But then he noticed something else, prodding the cat from his lap with great difficulty; she really did not want him to leave her, but he had to.
"Trouble sleeping?" he asked quietly, standing behind Hagamar, the much smaller, squirrelly man peeking behind the covering of the wagon, crossbow in hand. Startled, he spun around, and it was amazing he didn't accidentally fire the arrow. "Myself, as well." He paused, "I don't know if it's the fog, or the altitude. It's unsettling," he concluded. "Even for a knight."
"Not to mention a spineless scoundrel like myself, eh, Behmen?" he half-snarled, though he did keep his voice low.
"That is not what I meant." Trying to be the calm voice of reason, but Hagamar had worked himself into a lather:
"How many more have to die before we reach Severac?"
"None, if I can help it."
"And if you can't?" The man didn't wait for an answer, "Well forgive me if I'm reluctant to put my life in your hands, but I've got a better idea: We kill the bitch, and be done with it; tell the folks back in Marburg she tried to kill us; we didn't have a choice." He paused just a second, "I mean, who would be the wiser?" and then he turned for the wagon, but crashed into Felson's chest.
"I, for one," the man rumbled in a deep voice, arms folding menacingly. Behmen was relieved, and grateful to his friend, but the feeling only lasted until the three heard a howling sound from . . . within the wagon? He stepped up to it, pulling the covering, and the witch looked at him with a gleam in her eye.
"Did you hear that?" she taunted him, and then the real howling began.
"What is it?" Debelzaq wondered nervously. "What's going on?" The witch was smiling, and Behmen dropped the covering as he, Felson, and Hagamar moved away from the wagon, closer to the campfire. "Wolves," the priest finally realized, holding his breath.
"What do we do?" Kay asked fearfully, Behmen into his pack, tossing the unarmed priest an extra sword:
"Kill as many as you can."
The cat was at his legs again, seemingly oblivious to the approaching pack, and he picked her up quickly, lifting her as high as he could into the branches of one of the trees. "You'd be better off climbing, little one," he soothed as she mewled, not wanting to leave him. Felson had already killed the first wolf, and they came fast and furious after that. Both Kay and Hagamar went down briefly, Felson and Debelzaq rescuing them, respectively. Behmen's first managed to scratch him above and below his right eye, but he barely felt it as he shoved his sword in. Hagamar did surprisingly well with his crossbow, picking off two or three. Two attacked Behmen almost simultaneously, and he held his sword out to get one, than turned it at his side to impale the other. Kay, Felson, and Debelzaq each got one more, and then all was quiet again. For about five seconds.
"Oh no," Hagamar despaired as the howling started up again, and everyone looked around fearfully. It sounded like more. A lot more.
"Get the horses," Behmen ordered. "I'll take the wagon." And then everyone was moving as if chased by hellfire, the covering flying off the wagon in their haste, leaving the witch visible, and exposed to the cold. Not that she cared. A particularly aggressive wolf leapt onto Hagamar, knocking him from his horse. He got to his feet unsteadily, brandishing a knife, the crossbow back on the front of the wagon, and he was surrounded by a pack in seconds. Behmen stopped the wagon and was up instantly, pulling his sword, but Felson's horse blocked his way.
"Behmen!" he implored, the man tripping over his horse. "We can't help him," he finished despairingly as they heard Hagamar's death screams. The blond held the reins as if to keep from falling, and then he turned back, his face shadowed and unreadable. The procession continued through the rest of the night, and nobody said a word to each other.
